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[pedgito]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | Lucien De Leon x reader

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summary | it was never a favor, allowing him to take up space in your apartment. but, time after time, he finds his way back and somehow, it brings an unexpected normalcy to your life.

author's note | in my heart, it's still flores. but canonically its de leon. i had the opportunity to watch the movie and hot take, it was...alright. but pedro's character made me just as feral as i expected. so here's this absolute monster for no reason other than, well, me ovulating.

content warning | 18+ mdni, the uninvited spoilers, set post-movie, roommates to lovers, enemies to lovers, reader works in the film industry, financial hardship, shitty living situations, lucien is a schmooze and a drunk, but also a sweetheart, angst, feelings, reader has shit luck with dating, there's also smut in here somewhere i swear (oral, couch sex, unprotected piv, all the good stuff)

word count — 11k (sorry lmfao)

“Lucien?” You grumble around the chewy granola bar you’ve snatched from the craft table, “Lucien De Leon?”

The agent, Lucien’s agent—James, also working for a few of the on-set cast, looked hopeless.

He nods, squeezing tight at the phone in his hand, one more inconvenience text from snapping it in half.

“No,” You refuse, chewing at the sweet and sticky granola, “why—why me? My tiny apartment?”

“He’s exhausted any other chance,” The agent explains vaguely—yeah, real convincing, this guy, “listen—I like you, you’ve helped me in plenty of binds. It’ll be two weeks before he’s leaving for work, I just need somewhere to keep him for a while.”

“You’re making it seem like I’d be dog sitting or something,” You retort, watching as the agent glanced down at his phone, notifications spilling in, “this is Lucien—controversy magnet, and he’s rude—”

“You’ve gotta get to know him—”

“The one set I’ve worked on with him he spilled my coffee on me and acted like I made him do it. Fuck him, tell him to sleep on a bench.”

“I’ll pay you,” He scrambles, “Just—please?”

You pause, narrowing your gaze. Being a production assistant hadn’t been the life of luxury, minimal pay in an overpriced city in a shitty apartment with barely decent and affordable rent was nothing short of miserable.

“How much?”

“A thousand,” He offers—a shrug of uncertainty follows.

Silence stretches.

“Two thousand? Come on–that’s a thousand for each week.”

“Make it three and you’ve got a deal.”

The agent is quiet for a few seconds before he caves, sighing heavily, “Fuck, fine. Three. Can I drop him off tonight?”

“Tonight?” You balk, “You know, you’re actually the worst.”

His hands grip your shoulders, shaking you with far too much force than needed, “You’re a lifesaver, thank you.”

He’s long gone and buried in a phone call before you grumble a disgruntled, “You’re welcome.”

-

You consider later that evening that disclosing the recent…activities around your apartment complex would have been a good idea, especially with someone as high profile as Lucien taking up space in your one bedroom apartment.

Three break-ins in the past two weeks, noisy and unruly neighbors both above and sandwiching you—it wasn’t exactly peaceful or safe, but it was something. 

You wait with a creeping anxiety as you tap your chopsticks against the homemade ramen you’ve made for yourself, one true moment of happiness in the day as you’re finally sitting down to relax, feet aching terribly.

It was coffee runs and constant back and forths over forgotten supplies or paperwork—it was the perfect job to keep you active and on your toes, never sure when someone might blow up on you for whatever reason it may be—you were nothing special, helpful, but when it came down to it, you were more or less in the way, so you often made yourself small out of habit. 

The knock that startles you is hurried, like a panic. It sends your heart rate skyrocketing but your name echoes on the other side of the door, scrambling to open the door, you’re faced with two men.

The agent, James, a decent man despite his unorganized and erratic personality—and Lucien, a piss poor disguise covering his face.

You snort, addressing the ball cap and sunglasses with an amused expression, it was doing nothing to cover the instantly recognizable wispy brown hair of his and aquiline nose—the upcoming king of stage and screen. It was a wonder he even made it here in one piece.

“A natural chameleon,” You joke, widening your door to let them inside—the apartment was clean, thankfully. You’d scramble to get home after work and pick up, given you didn’t have much time to actually prepare, “seriously—get inside before someone clocks you.”

The agent stays though, like his feet were planted.

“He’s all yours,” He tells you, “you’ve got my number—don’t let him leave. I’ll check in when I can. Keep an eye out for paps.”

“Hey, no—” You interject, watching as the agent turned on his heels and departed, “we didn’t agree to—”, turning the corner with a shout of a long, helpless, “that!”

You sigh with a deep frown, turning over your shoulder to find Lucien with a chopstick in hand, noodle dangling from the utensil with a curious face, sniffing it cautiously. 

“Hey!” You chastise, plucking the chopstick from his fingers, “Stop that.”

He looks at you curiously, obviously taken aback by your tone of voice and lack of intimidation by him, like a startled cat.

Jesus, okay.

You force a calming breath through your nose and look up at him, “Would you like some?”

“Is it gluten free?” Lucien inquires, peering over your shoulder at the still steaming hot bowl of soup.

“Actually, yeah,” Your brow furrows, “it—it is.”

“Sure,” He shrugs, beginning to remove his cap and glasses, along with his jacket, resting them haphazardly on the kitchen island as he takes a seat on the only other unoccupied barstool in your kitchen.

“Oh no,” You swiftly rectify his actions, “we’re not doing this—there’s a coat rack for a reason and a shelf by the door for things like,” You walk toward the front door, hand circling the object like a cherished belonging, “keys—sunglasses, hats,” You stress the final two words and point at the items before jutting your thumb frustratingly at the door, “—if you don’t mind, while I make your dinner.”

It was clear he’s spent most of the past several years with people ready and waiting on him, never questioning or ordering around, but it was basic human decency, you weren’t going to allow him to be amiss to it.

He obliges quietly, a surprise to you. You hide the satisfied smirk as you pour the broth into the bowl along with the noodles before placing the bowl on his side of the island, placing another dish near him, scattered with different toppings.

Lucien looks silently intrigued, the ends of his mouth curling down in interest as he sprinkles various toppings over his food, beginning to eat silently as you return to your own meal.

After a long enough silence and Lucien’s occasional slurping you decide to set a hard boundary, given the various personalities you’ve dealt with in the industry, it was you being proactive out of habit.

“Let me be clear, I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart,” You inform him, locking eyes with his intense stare, something you hadn’t forgotten, not since the on-set incident, “This is still my home. Don’t be an asshole about it.”

“James said you were a firecracker,” Lucien smirks slightly, resting his chopsticks along the top of the bowl, “and a little bit of a bitch, but—”

“Good, he hasn’t lost his mind then.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a professional at this shit now. You won’t even know I’m here.”

Highly unlikely, you think.

He even makes a point by grabbing his bowl and emptying it before placing it in the sink before extending his hand out to your own bowl. You watch him wash the dishes, something that looks unnatural, but you aren’t going to complain.

“You always cook like that?” Lucien asks curiously over the running water, head turning over his shoulder briefly.

“No, only Friday. I never have time otherwise, work is…busy,” A generous way to describe it, but Lucien doesn’t seem to care or question, drying off the last dish before extending his hands out by his side in a grand gesture.

Maybe he was expecting a roaring applause, but you don’t give him the satisfaction. You offer him a genuine thank you but it doesn’t extend beyond that before you’re trailing a few feet over toward the living room, a clean pillow and blanket draped over the couch, along with a fitted sheet if he felt like using it. It was all unmade, allowing him to set it up himself.

“Also,” You clasp your hands together at your front, “James didn’t mention this because I didn’t tell him but we’ve had a string of break-ins for a while now, so—always keep the deadbolt locked. Please.”

His eyes widen, looking around the apartment for the quickest escape. You were on the seventh floor, the only other escape option was a less than reliable balcony that you barely used.

“I have a bat,” You tell him, before pointing toward the door beside the entrance, “in the shoe closet, but I think we’re okay.”

“Think?”

You shrug, “It hasn’t happened yet, but the police have shit response time around here.”

Lucien looks overwhelmed, but nods.

“Oh, and the neighbors like to have really loud sex—walls are thin. Have fun.”

“No puedo creer esta mierda—” He mumbles under his breath as you turn your back, a sharp flap of a sheet, and a short laugh from you follows.

“Blame your agent, Lucien.”

He didn’t think you’d understand him, but your astute hearing proved otherwise. 

Lucien was putting on an act with his gesture, clearly. 

He doesn’t respond, pouting his way through the process of setting up his new bed for the next couple weeks in silence, ignoring the soft click to your door as you turn in for the night, the creeping and soft city noises filtering in through the thin apartment walls.

It wouldn’t be an easy night but he's never really liked big, empty houses anyways.

—

The weekend is uneventful; you fear it might be a dream, too good to be true, a complete fluke.

Maybe he had a change of heart overnight, but Lucien is overly polite.

He deconstructs his bed both mornings, packing it away in a corner of the living room, listening to the television at a reasonable volume with fresh coffee in the coffee pot, he cleans up his dishes and leaves a marginal mess. 

The real kicker—he has the ability to keep the toilet seat down with your now shared bathroom attached to your bedroom, a real…gentleman. 

You eyed him suspiciously most of the day, when he’s unaware and preoccupied, wondering when the facade would drop. Does he even remember the coffee incident? 

He had to, right?

He approaches with a silent gesture of his emptied cup as you fill your own.

Fine—you pull the cup from his grip and fill it to the brim, sliding it back over carefully.

He sips gingerly as he raises it to his lip before speaking, “S’good coffee.”

“Thanks,” You answer nonchalantly, pouring a generous amount of sugar and cream into your coffee and stirring, watching as the dark black lightened into a soft brown, “are you a coffee guy?”

“I’m an anything guy,” Lucien responds, “but—good, it’s good. I’m impressed.”

“Why?” You ask with a little more bark than needed, a flippant tone rounding out your morning irritation as you readied for work. “Are you—you really don’t remember, do you?”

Lucien raised his eyebrows in question, expectant.

“Your last job, up in Hollywood Hills. You spilled coffee all over me, blamed me, then got me suspended for a week, because of your outburst. I barely managed rent that month”

His eyes narrow, recollecting the thought like he’d been stricken with temporary amnesia.

“You’re all so much of the same, y’know?” You continue, sipping generously from your cup as his face relaxes, following your movements with a casual glance. “Cocky, egotistical, little dicked men. Without me you wouldn’t have that ridiculous fifteen dollar hyper whateverthefuck water you insisted you needed in your trailer, or your dry cleaning? God forbid. Seriously, fuck you.”

“Wait—” Lucien staunches, hold his hand up in pause, “hold on—”

You wait for approximately half a second before you roll your eyes, pushing beyond him to gather your bag and keys, “You know, I don’t need a disingenuous apology. I’m not doing this as a favor. I’m being paid.”

James had lied to him, that much he was figuring out as he processed the situation. You weren’t someone offering up free charity, a helping hand for a starving actor in need—except that wasn’t the case for him. Despite his team's careful guidance; he was a repeat offender of bad choices and money management, a part-time alcoholic, and a serial flirt. He knew how to play his hand and he was good at it, but with you—it was clear that you were a challenge.

But, it was only a couple weeks. He could survive that. He was a people person first and foremost and he’d charm the hell out of you if given the opportunity. 

“James said he’d be by in an hour to pick you up for your meetings today—lock the door when you leave. Please.”

Still speechless, he watches you leave with a stiff, crisp shut of the door.

He couldn’t remember, racking his brain for one incident after another. His own fair share made him cringe in hindsight, but he…couldn’t remember. He’d almost hoped you were a fresh face, leaving him free of judgment, but it was clear that this situation was about pure survival.

-

“You did do that,” James confirmed to him as they left the first brand meeting that morning, “It was the morning of the big awards show—you remember?” He doesn’t wait for Lucien’s response, continuing, “Poor kid got her ass chewed out and had to take a trip to the clinic for the burns. It was…a mess. Never cried, though. I’ll give her that.”

And, like a strike of a match, it floods back. You’re shocked expression, mouth slightly agape as the sting of pain settled in, bracing for the impact of Lucien’s wrath because you knew. A man allergic to accountability, oozing power, it was almost too easy.

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Apologies seem pointless now, but it could help. But…be genuine.”

“I’m genuine.”

James gives him a certain look, one that argues otherwise.

“I am.”

Only time would tell, really.

By the end of your work day, it was with great relief as you stepped through the door of your apartment until you remembered one fine detail you had told Lucien more than once.

Lock the door.

The eeriness hits you as the door clicks shut behind you, the place falling into a dead silence for a brief moment, your bag hitting the counter as you maneuvered your keys between your fingers, ready to take on what you could with what little strength you had to offer.

Just maul their face off, that seemed like the best option.

You count the seconds in your head, breath held tight and constricted in your chest. You quickly check the available pathways—living room, kitchen, before slipping down the hall, left with the only room to flee if not away from your apartment.

Bedroom light off, not a thing out of place, pristine even—but your eyes track toward the bathroom light seeping underneath the gap in the door. With careful, measured movements you approach the door although you haven’t thought through the actual process of what you wanted to do.

But, before you can react the door is swinging open as the bathroom is plunged into darkness, revealing a sopping wet Lucien, towel tied tight around his waist as he slings a smaller one over his shoulders, completely relaxed until he spots you.

Both of you scream—you out of anger and fear, Lucien at the incoming hand that he snatches by the wrist, your eyes landing on each other, your nostrils flaring in frustration.

“You’re insane!” Lucien shouts, shoving your hand away, “You nearly tore my face off.”

“I thought you were an intruder,” You seethe, “—what kind of maniac showers with the front door unlocked while home alone?”

“You said you had a bat,” Lucien excuses, “I could have defended myself.”

You sigh, plucking the keys from your grip before you toss them on your bed, stepping away from Lucien and away from the radiating heat of his body as it glistened, obnoxiously.

“Get out,” You snap, “get out—go—”

“I was just gonna…grab my clothes and come change in,” He weakly gestures toward the bathroom, earning a sharp look of distaste in his direction, “alright—alright, Jesus.”

He pauses for a moment, though. Before the lightbulb clicks on and he’s scrambling into the living room and back in record time, shoving a small white envelope into your hands.

“What is this?” You ask tensely, blindly ripping at the seal as you stare at him.

“It’s uh—what I owe you, for the coffee thing. I…I remember now. Figured I could pay you for the work I made you miss…is that about right?”

You peer at the wad of cash. It was indeed, enough.

“You’re unbelievable,” You reply, shaking your head.

It gives him false hope, wondering if it was all going to be brushed under the rug and that he could continue the rest of his stay in a somewhat semblance of peace, but then your expression flips and oh…that’s not…

“Are you physically incapable of saying the words “I’m sorry”—would it kill you? Allergic to accountability? God, you know what, I’m gonna call James and tell him I just can’t do—”

“No,” Lucien panics, hand around your bicep as you attempt to push past him, immediately recognizing the fierceness of his grip he loosens it, calms himself, “no—please, listen…I…I didn’t think you’d care enough to hear it. I do remember now and I was a dick, I was trying to offer a gesture of good faith. Peace, even?”

“Is this even your money?” You ask curiously, brow furrowed as you help up the envelope.

“Yeah, yeah—I pulled it out of my savings. Why? Do you…not want it?”

You quickly snatch the envelope away, “No, I’ll take it. But, words mean a lot. Like calling me an ignorant little bitch.”

“Okay, okay. I am sorry. I had a lot going on and I know that isn’t an excuse either, but I am.”

You tilt your head in examination, peering through the raw emotion on his face, whether he was putting on a masterclass in acting or not, it was believable enough. You could remain bitter, even if it meant suffering in silence, but you liked the peace just as much as he, so you compromise.

“You still have to get out,” You inform him, walking your fingers tauntingly toward the door, “and I swear, Lucien, if you used all the hot water—”

-

Lucien was insistent about rehearsing at least five hours a day, even on weekends. Luckily, most of those days you were spared, but when you’re barricaded away in your bedroom, sound travels. And Lucien doesn't care much to stifle his performance, maybe it was a weapon to backfire at your inconsiderate neighbors, but it was driving you insane.

He’s stuck on one scene, clearly a building tension that explodes and apparently he can’t nail, having heard the lines a hundred times over through the muffled walls—your first instinct was to complain, tell him take it elsewhere, but you remember your deal with James. Lucien just needed a place to stay for a while and this was his job.

Eventually, you poke your head through your bedroom door with a cautious expression, watching Lucien examine his face in the mirror, filing through various emotions before he finally gives up, tossing the script against the counter.

He spots you as he turns, already gearing up to apologize or maybe even excuse—but instead, you speak.

“Is it for an audition?”

“How’d you know?”

“The yelling, the emotion—I guess? I help on set with self tapes from time to time. I’ve learned to spot the difference between just memorizing lines and trying to feel the script.”

Lucien pushes his lips out in thought, tongue rolling over his teeth as his hands settle against his hips, pushing the sweatpants lower on his hips as he stands, deliberating.

“Just ask,” You tell him.

“You any good?”

It was a genuine question, not meant to attack your own ego. Besides, it makes you laugh.

“I’ll get your good side,” You promise him, surfacing from your room as you beckon for his phone with your hand, getting straight to work.

It only takes a few minutes to find a solid place to set up, against one of your cream colored walls, pictureless and plain, but with ample lighting from inside and out, it highlighted the wispy grays in Lucien’s untamed curls hanging over his forehead, the wrinkles creasing there as he looked down at the script and examined the text.

“Do you have them memorized?” 

Lucien nods absently, his finger trailing down the side of the paper until it was suddenly gone, snatched from his hands with a smile on your face as you pointed for him to slide into frame. You take a step back, watching the screen with a careful eye before motioning with a finger for him to move a few centimeters to the left, “There. Perfect.”

You flatten out the creased paper as you speak, “From the top?”

Lucien smiles halfheartedly—the stress washing from his face for a moment—and nods.

–

You could keep up, that much was obvious.

Lucien is used to the monotone voice on the other side of the camera during auditions, forced tones and half-cocked emotion, it was hard to act against and with, but he’s learned to push through for the sake of a role. 

It was an emotional scene, almost a requirement to have that intensity to act against and Lucien caught your eye line at one point, face buried in the script as you uttered the lines with teary eyes, letting your own emotion fill you to the brim and flow out, giving him a real and authentic reaction to act against.

He watched it back with a grin, mostly out of his own cocky admiration for himself but the secret you’ve been hoarding, a welcome surprise.

“Have you never considered acting?” Lucien asks curiously, emailing the video off to his agent.

“Cameras are daunting,” You shrug, folding and filing away some freshly washed towels as Lucien reclined on your couch, “I prefer being behind them.”

“You’re a natural,” He offers honestly, “that’s really rare.”

You shake your head in amusement as you riffled through the unfolded laundry, separating in different piles until you come across a no longer white blouse, stained a soft pink—and of course, Lucien. It was Lucien who offered to take laundry down the night prior, needing a moment away from being cooped up in the apartment, swearing he had it under control.

“I told you not to put this in the wash load with the colors! Look at this—” You held up the obviously stained blouse, crumpling up the fabric and tossing it to the couch with a frustrated huff.

“To be fair, it’s been years since I did my own laundry,” Lucien responds casually, “—don’t worry, I’ll have James buy you another.”

Your face twitches, actually twitches.

“No, no—it…it’s fine. It’s only a shirt,” You tuck a loose hair behind your ear as you heave the towels into your arm, “just—whites and colors, always separate them.”

And while living with Lucien had mellowed out some, it was still tumultuous at times.

Fighting over the bathroom was a regular occurrence, both of you guilty. But, that could be worked through, it wasn’t the end of the world. Occasionally it was the lights, a bad habit of Lucien’s to leave them lingering in his wait, lamps and fixtures, nothing was safe. Opened cabinets, items forgotten and out of place. It was all tedious and frustrating, picking and choosing your battles as they came, brushing far too much under the rub for the sake of peace.

You knew it was almost over, enjoying a quiet night to yourself while Lucien was apparently out at dinner—you weren’t sure, you didn’t really care, but you enjoyed the glimpse of what was to return to you, tucked away on the couch while half-dressed, hand stuffed into a freshly popped bowl of popcorn.

It was Friday and your neighbors never failed to come home from a rowdy night of partying with everything but sleeping on their mind, getting straight to business and your grab for the remote was immediate, turning up the volume to drown out the obnoxious moans and groans of drunk sex happening on the other side of the wall.

Lucien arrives back somewhere near the middle of the movie, the soft laughs from you pulling his attention to the couch as he clocked the nineties rom-com on the television, your cheek resting against your balled up fist, placing his wallet against the counter to signal his entrance.

“Loud enough for you?” Lucien jokes, approaching the singular piece of furniture in your living room, fingertips pressing against the arm of the couch as he takes in your appearance, shirt barely reaching beyond mid-thigh, thick socks keeping you warm as you curled in on yourself, careless that Lucien was definitely looking you make a noise in question, the words processing in a delayed manner.

You reach for the remote, pausing the movie briefly to reveal the reason; the insistent thump of wood against cheap sheetrock and moans, squealy and high-pitched, forcing a raised eyebrow from Lucien that needed no words.

“Nevermind,” He concedes,hands thrown up in defeat with a chuckle hidden behind his teeth, walking closer to examine the screen, filing through his internal rolodex of films and drawing a blank.

“Are you going to keep standing there like a total weirdo or are you going to watch the movie?” You ask with a joking tone, tucking your feet underneath you as you made room, glancing down at your phone as a notification brought the screen to life.

Lucien catches the faint tug of a smile on your face as you type away, clicking the phone into sleep mode a few moments later before continuing the movie without a word.

You’re not sure which one of you succumbs to sleep first, but it didn’t matter, finding that you both aligned together easily as you slept, covered with a blanket that Lucien must have snatched somewhere near without disturbing you—and when you wake in the middle of the night, complex quiet throughout, you can’t even find it in you to move.

–

Lucien’s length of stay was diminishing quickly and you were relieved, only a few more days and things would be back to normal, you’d be three thousand dollars richer, and you wouldn’t have to confront the fact that Lucien wasn’t entirely as bad as he seemed, temper aside.

You’re both on your way out the door on a weekday morning when you spot him, navy blue hoodie draping his body, one you favored because of its size and comfortability.

“That’s mine,” You utter as you’re fisting your keys into your hand and tucking a makeup applicator away in your bag, “that’s…mine—why is it on your body?”

Lucien looks down, perplexed. He could’ve swore…

“It’s mine, I swear,” You’re peering over his shoulder and pulling at the collar, examining the tag by his neck, or lack thereof—you always cut them out, hated the feeling against your skin.

“It’s mine,” You say with finality, “But, it’s fine. I’ve been meaning to replace it anyways. And now that you’ve worn it, definitely.”

“Ouch,” Lucien chuckles, shaking his head at your bluntness, “I guess I deserve that. I did think it was mine, though. Swear. Must’ve gotten mixed up somehow.”

 “Oh, well, just burn it now—oh, shit, before I forget,” You point your finger at his chest, stopping him in his tracks, “I’ve got a date tonight. I’ll more than likely be gone when you get back here. I’m leaving a key under the mat, you know the deal. Respect it…protect it like you give a shit if anything happens, it’s all I have.”

“Date?” Lucien teases, “Sounds—”

“We’re not doing this,” You cut him short, finger raising higher in reprimand, “don’t do that.”

Again, Lucien values his well-being, so he admits defeat. 

It was difficult for him, his eagerness to please and charm, to command the conversation and impress—but with you, it was impossible. Truly, it was mesmerizing to him.

It was several hours later when Lucien arrived at the apartment, pointedly locking the door behind him as you had reminded him several times—he wasn’t completely aloof.

His orders takeout on a whim, disguised under a fake name and the careful directions to leave at the door, having practiced the art of subtly when it came to laying low, enjoying a couple beers from a pack James had bought him as a small celebration for a week of good, decent meetings. 

Things had been looking up recently and it made Lucien unsettled in a way, but thankful nonetheless, sipping at the beer generously and relaxing well into the night, dusk turning to black skies and few twinkling star lights, drowned out by the thick smog of city pollution. It started raining eventually, a soft pattern picking up gradually and he, for natural reasoning, is slightly concerned. So, he stays up despite some lingering exhaustion, barely hitting a quarter beyond eight o’clock when the door handle rattles, soft curses on the other side of the door that send him to his feet, peering through the peephole to spot a sufficiently blurry outline of you.

And what he opens the door to is not what he’s expecting, although, he wasn’t even sure what he was expecting in the first place, but this…it wasn’t it.

You were wet, clothes dripping and rain water pooling at your feet, everything sticking to you like an uncomfortable glue, cold and shivering, your bottom lip trembling.

Without thinking, Lucien shifts into action. 

He doesn’t ask a single question, not at first. Silently pulling the items off of you as you allow him; keys and purse first, clanging against the counter before he’s pulling your coat of, blouse, even kneeling down to remove your shoes before he’s carrying the clothes to the bathroom with you in tow, turning on the shower until it was steaming up the mirrors, heat radiating through the room as you pulled at the button of your jeans weakly, fumbling with cold and feeble hands.

He holds his hands up, careful not to approach in a way that would startle you or force you into attack mode, which seemed unlikely with the disheartened look on your face and he asks quietly, “Do you need help?”

You’re quiet for a long, tense moment before you nod, trying to quell the full body shivers as he assists you in stripping down to your underwear, also soaked. He pulls the curtain back and helps you over the side of the tub with the solid weight of his hand and speaks again despite your silence, “I’ll wait in your room—do you need anything?”

It doesn’t take a genius to piece things together as Lucien settles against the edge of the bed and it angers him for some forlorn reason, a feeling he hasn’t experienced in a long time. When the shower cuts off, he straightens, hesitates—should he leave? 

You’d want privacy, right? Yeah. No, definitely.

He rises to his feet without another thought, his awful timing sending you straight into his chest as you swung the door open, towel snug around your body and smelling sharply of fresh, citrus body wash.

“S-sorry,” You stammer out, “you don’t—you don’t have to wait around, Lucien. Or give a shit, either. I don’t expect you to and I don’t care—”

It was unusually cold. He’s become familiar with your snark, that sharp and cunning personality, but this was different. This was a push, a defense of hard and impenetrable walls building up before his eyes and he speaks without thinking, hoping that it slips through the cracks.

“Regardless, I’ll listen,” Lucien provides—it wasn’t an overwhelming expression of fake, forced care or, god forbid, love. But, it was a raw enough response that it grabs your attention, “—if you want me to.”

—

He cranked up the heat while you dressed, flipped open his leftover takeout, and listened. You weren’t used to this and for a while, you were half-expecting him to find a way to turn the situation on himself, a sob story for a sob story. But, he doesn’t.

“This sushi…” You savor the taste, eyes falling closed.

“Good, isn’t it?” Lucien smirks, popping another into his mouth with careful precision, chopsticks in hand.

You could cry, it was such a strong and startling feeling that it caught you off-guard, “Yeah, really good.”

You clear your throat, tears shoved aside, “Have you ever ditched a date before?”

Lucien shakes his head with a subtle frown.

“Right, Lucien De Leon,” You respond jokingly, that magical emphasis around his name, “any woman would be dying for all of….this,” You gesture to him lazily with a faux disgust that couldn’t even be forced, both of you divulging into a laugh.

“Hey, you said it,” Lucien shrugs with a pointed wink that you shouldn’t find so attractive, but the natural charm he emits makes it impossible, “—but, no. Can’t say I have.”

“Even the ones who wouldn’t put out?”

“At the risk of sounding like an asshole—“ Lucien begins, but you follow the rhythm of the conversation and it isn’t long before the lightbulb strikes on and you’re nodding.

“Right, you probably don’t have an issue in that department. Stupid question, sorry.”

You pluck the last piece of sushi off the styrofoam and chew, speaking behind your hand, “I should’ve known that dude was a prick, only stared at my tits the entire date.”

Out of reflex, his eyes drag to your chest and you click the movement in an instant, “Not helping,” You warn him lightly, “I guess I was too blunt, he kept…touching me. I told him I didn’t feel comfortable going back to his place, he made some excuse to go to the bathroom and I waited for a half hour. Until the server came by with the bill—so, not only did he ditch me, I paid a hundred dollar tab and I didn’t even eat my food.”

Even in Lucien’s wild days, he couldn’t imagine doing that. Not when he was drinking more heavily, partying, hooking up on a daily basis—before his first failed marriage, it was foreign to him. 

“You could’ve called me, or James, shit—an uber.”

“Phone died,” You shrug lamely, “it doesn’t matter, anyways. And don’t get me wrong, casual sex—it’s fine, but I got too hopeful, I guess. All men are the same.”

“Come on,” Lucien jests, “that’s not fair.”

“Fine, enlighten me, then.”

“You can’t expect fairytale shit—I mean, I’m one failed marriage and plenty of missteps in my life. Do you think I’m a bad guy?”

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?” 

Lucien sighs in defeat, scratching at his mused hair as he tosses the empty food container aside.

“I’m fucking with you,” You offer in a quieter tone—even if you weren’t friends with him, he didn’t have to put in the effort to help or listen, but he was, “I’m—just, thank you.”

“I’m in good graces now?” Lucien asks curiously, that playful mischief gracing his face with a smile.

You make a motion with your hand from your head as you grab, like pulling a thought and throwing it away, “Coffee incident? Forgotten—unless you pull some heinous shit.”

“You know, I might actually miss this,” His finger does a swirling motion, encompassing your living room, “you—eh,” a shaky hand motion that earns a jab to his thigh from your foot, “shit, ouch—that was a joke.”

“I know,” You concede with a smirk, “—I won’t, though. I want my couch back. And my bathroom.”

“If it makes you feel better, I think you’re a catch,” He tells you, “although, I do like the ones that bite, so—“

You reach forward this time, swatting playful at his chest with the back of your hand, but his fast reflexes beat you, your fingers smacking into solid rings.

He snickers softly and examines the grimace on your face as you pull back, “Pobrecita,” He coos mockingly, reaching for your hand and pressing a gentle kiss against the skin, “see what I mean?”

You ignore the heat that strikes through your body like a freshly lit match, pulling your hand away with a distinct eye roll. 

He’d be gone soon and this would all be a ridiculous memory to think back on. 

There was no room for newly evolving feelings, or worse, infatuation. 

—

The three months you spend falling back into your normal routine is monotonous, safe, but the kind of security that has you itching for change. You find yourself checking on Lucien more often than you should, regular social media checks, the occasional subtle question to James when you happened to catch him on set. It wasn’t healthy, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

He did seem more erratic, often coming across other quick clips and social media stories of him at the club during waking hours, pure reckless abandon, he was having the time of his life—you couldn’t blame him, but it was…slightly alarming.

It was a Saturday night when all hell broke loose, police sirens raining down the street as you raced to your open window, peering down at the obscured face of a man in cuffs as he was roughly shoved into a police car before there’s a pounding knock at the door, your heart nearly bursting out of your chest at the sound.

Turning on your heels and swinging the door open, you can’t help but find yourself speechless at the sight.

“Think they caught your burglar,” Lucien notes under his baseball cap, eyes catching the cascading red and blue lights outside your window, duffel bag at his feet and a regretful look on James’ face.

You tilt your head at the discovery, your brain working overtime before your eyes widen.

“Just hear him out,” He pleads with prayer like hands, phone sandwiched between two begging palms, “Lucien—go,”

Lucien seems to stutter-step in his mind, not expecting to be the one leading this proposition as he side-eyes James, “I…need a place to stay…again,” Lucien squints his eyes and stares up at the ceiling, looking almost embarrassed, “for the next six months.”

“No,” You nearly shout out incredulously, “the first time wasn’t a trial run.”

There’s a long moment of tense eye contact and uncertainty.

An underlying worry in your gut at the sight of Lucien, a little worse for wear but still mostly himself, gripping tightly at his carry-on bag in his hand, thumb rubbing nervously at the leather strap.

Goddammit.

–

He’s paying the entire six months of rent he planned on staying there while he filmed for a movie they were shooting a short ten minute drive from your complex, a quaint little studio gracious enough to let the crew film free of charge—he’d given you the whole spiel, in one ear and out the other still wondering how you’ve tangled yourself in this web again.

“Can I just ask you one thing?” You inquire, helping him file away some of his clothes in a drawer you had emptied out for him like this was normal. He makes a soft noise of acknowledgment with his lips pursed together, tired sunken eyes staring back at you, “Why not get your own apartment? A house? I mean, you’ve got the money?”

Lucien clears his throat, scratching at his neck where it jostles his chains, fingers slipping under the silk fabric of his shirt, “I, uh—feel weird…livingalone,” He rushes out, quickly turning to grab more clothes as you stand, hand placed against the top of your dresser as your brow furrows, feeling like you’d just fallen deaf.

“Come again?”

A small huff as Lucien passes a stack of expensive shirts, material that had to be ethically sourced or…some bullshit like that, he’s told you the story before in passing.

“I don’t like living alone, ‘s why I float,” He offers lamely, tossing the empty duffel into the corner of your room—you’d pick it up later, it didn’t matter, “I left all my old stuff to my ex-wife, it was easier that way.”

Often you had to remind yourself that Lucien was older, nearing his late forties while you were still managing through your late twenties, a big thirty on the horizon.

It dawns on you then that you don’t know much about Lucien at all outside of tabloids and gossip sites, the rumor mills running through Hollywood—you often find yourself reminding you of the fact he was still a person, with troubles, clearer now more than ever.

“It wasn’t always like this,” He assures you, “I’m a fuckin’ mess, I already know.”

“I think we’re beyond judgment, Lucien,” You assure him, “You saw me sobbing and nearly naked—just keep this place clean, like you give a shit about it, alright?”

Lucien nods dutifully, “Yes, ma’am.”

–

You learn quickly that his long term stay meant that little quirks were beginning to surface—always organizing your things out on the sink opposite of his own, a small gesture that didn’t go unnoticed when you were rushing out the door on days he wasn’t given a call time. Or how he always made sure there was food waiting when he arrived before you—takeout or not. He wasn’t a great cook, but he could manage.

In turn, you tried to cook more often. And he loved to hover, but not with a homey, warm feeling that made you feel safe, rather like a curious dog nipping at your ankles. And more so, he would finish his own plate before looking cautiously at your own before you nod, allowing him to pick from your plate with a greediness that made you giggle under your breath.

“My ex-wife never cooked,” He had told you once, “I mean, she tried—but she was terrible. And this,” His tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek as he steps at the homemade ravioli, “is there anything you can’t do?”

“Say no, apparently,” You gave him a solid once-over, a look from head to toe—he’s never offended anymore, taking the playful jest in stride, it had already been a month and it was beginning to feel like normal, again, having him there.

Your conflicting schedules meant a lot of time away from each other, which wasn’t bad. It almost helped more than you expected and while your apartment wasn’t well-fit for a roommate, Lucien made the place feel less empty.

You couldn’t say it out loud, but you were starting to understand the charm. You could see beyond the facade and the persona—a troubled man with ambition, purpose, but a mountain of struggles. The drinking wasn’t a surprise, nor his uptick in smoking. He always smoked out the window so the smell wouldn’t permeate, but the drinking started to become…an issue. 

It wasn’t that Lucien couldn’t handle himself when he drank, but he often did it to fill the dead time—so he said—when you were still at work, fighting with his own demons in his mind. He always ended up on your bed those nights, curled up in a fetal position at the wrong end and you couldn’t find it in yourself to move him, draping a blanket over him before you decided to spend the night on the couch. It was a weekly occurrence after a while, slowly growing in frequency.

He always apologizes, tells you he won’t do it again, but eventually you find yourself melding around him, sleeping in a way that keeps you comfortable and doesn’t disturb him. You don’t judge him, don’t think any lower of him—but there was concern and Lucien could see it growing with every passing conversation as the weeks dragged along. 

By the third month, the dam breaks.

You don’t sugarcoat anything for him either.

“Do you need rehab?” You ask bluntly, watching him peel the gold-flaked under eye patches from his face, shoulder leaned against the doorframe, “Or, like, therapy?”

“I’m not an alcoholic,” He defends, washing his hands under the warm water, “I can get sober if I wanna, but it helps with the stress, you know?”

“No,” You respond honestly, but softly, “I don’t. Unless this is just some big excuse for you to sleep in my bed, which if it is—”

Lucien chuckles, toweling his hands dry, “You caught me.”

“You would tell me if it was getting bad, wouldn’t you?”

It seemed like the least he could do, considering how greatly you were carrying the burden for him by allowing him to stay in the comfort of your own home, treating him like a human. You ignored the tabloids anymore, always negative and nefarious toward him, like he wasn’t allowed to make a few mistakes along the way. He had to be perfect, given his troubling start in the industry. DUIs, cheating, eventually settling down to marry but that didn’t work out great for him either—you’d done some research lately, out of pure curiosity to understand what he wasn’t always willing to share, but you preferred to hear it from him.

Lucien squeezes at your chin in a comforting manner that makes you grimace in feigned disgust, forcing a gentle laugh through your nose as he answers, “Yes, I would.”

–

When he should, he doesn’t. 

Award season was approaching and work was hectic, Lucien had wrapped on his next project and his previous one was gearing for a big release and line of promos, which meant Lucien had to be on his game.

The lamp in your living was broken, a shattered glass bottle on the floor beside it, a trail of clothes following to your room and a heat in the apartment that was sweltering in a way that had you stripping down immediately to the thinnest layer you could manage without getting to your underwear, jeans and a thin strapped top as you walked barefoot toward your room.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting or hoping for, but it isn’t this.

He’s naked, completely bare, save for the blanket draping his groin to save his modesty, out cold but skin obviously clammy, reeking of alcohol and sweat and you can’t help scrambling to the floor, unable to form any type of tangible sound. You check for a pulse, fearing that you might have just found yourself in an inescapable scandal, but it was there. That soft thump, thump, thump under your fingertips before you press the back of your hand to his skin and despite the sweat, he’s cold. He must have sweat out most of the alcohol in his system, your eyes dragging to the forgotten bottle on the ground.

You sigh, eyes falling closed as you gather your thoughts. You devise a plan, slow and methodical—first was to clean, grabbing the clothes and broken glass from the ground, leaving no trace of his mayhew before you’re returning to your room and straight for the bathroom, immediately turning on the cold water, the stream forceful as it pushed through the showerhead.

“Fuck,” You curse to yourself as you glance at Lucien who is mostly dead-weight, struggling to understand how you can get him from one point to another—with another quiet huff you approach him, shifting until you can get your arms under his armpits and heave him up, blanket falling from his waist as you yelp, eyes shooting toward the ceiling as you continue to drag his slumped body toward the tub, “okay—god, Lucien, you fucking owe me.”

It takes some maneuvering and the unbelievability that you are so incredibly close to his bare ass and dick in a way that most would fall over backwards for, regardless of the situation—it felt wrong, seeing him in such a manner and so completely helpless, but you shove the thought aside as you finally get him in the tub, the cold water waking him almost immediately.

It starts with a gasp, a sharp tug of the curtain and coarse, “Shit,” that assures you he was alive and well, coherent, even. A small smile tugs at your lips as you hear him let out a string of curses before he finally settles.

“There’s a bottle of water and some Advil on the counter—take it,” You instruct behind the curtain, “I’m going to grab dinner—try not to hurt yourself, please.”

He doesn’t acknowledge you, not that you expected it. And it doesn’t take long to grab the food either, calling it in and driving there and back in about twenty minutes, finding Lucien freshly showered and sitting on the stool near the counter, eyes telling a story of exhaustion but his insistently bouncing leg telling another.

“Chicken or steak?” You ask nonchalantly, holding the styrofoam containers in both hands.

He takes a moment to answer, unsettled by your calmness, “...steak.”

You hand it over without a question, grabbing a couple drinks before you’re digging in, standing opposite of him rather than sitting, eating in a silence that grows, thickens.

“It’s quiet,” You note the obvious before you scroll through your phone, searching for a soft tune to play through your speakers, something to fill the air, “better—how’s the food?”

“I like it,” Lucien responds with a full mouth, somehow endearing as he swallows and sips at the second water you offered him, attempting to help keep him hydrated, even if it was still annoyingly hot in your apartment, “—I…I think I broke your AC.”

“You did. I’ll put in a work order for it to get fixed,” You answer, a solution to the problem, “are you okay?”

If Lucien was being honest with himself, he can’t remember the last time anyone has asked him that—not genuinely, anyways. He falls silently, biting at his bottom lip in deep thought as his eyes squint, poking quietly at his food.

Talking was hard, you understood that. But, you hoped there was some trust built between you in the past few months, that you hadn’t laid your vulnerabilities out bare the night you came home rain soaked without the ability for him to share too. Plus, he’d broken your favorite lamp.

“It’s complicated,” Lucien diverts, but that doesn’t stop you, eyes lying in wait as you laid your utensil down to listen, “—I’ve got two kids. One, he’s eighteen…awesome, awesome kid. His name is Raynor. I didn’t meet him until a few years back, I’ve been tryin’ take make up for that. We even went on a roadtrip a couple summers back.”

Lucien fiddles with the cap on the water bottle idly, speaking further, “I, the other, my daughter, she’s a couple years old—it was a crazy night with a co-star,” You clock the information immediately, knowing who he was talking about without the confession, and he knew too—it wasn’t exactly a well kept secret in Hollywood as Delia was now married, to another co-star, raising that child, “a long story for another time, but we’re going through this nasty court battle.”

It would explain his financial situation a little, his willingness to take roles as he could, but the growing stress on his face as weeks passed, the tendency to hide or ignore the situation rather than face it—you understood, to a degree. 

“So, all the drinking? The transiency?”

“It just helps,” He shrugs—helps him forget, temporarily, before it all comes barreling back at him, “she wants to revoke shared custody—she’s got her more anyways, with my work and everything, but she wants to deem me unfit, make it—” Lucien’s throat tightens, exactly why he wanted to avoid this conversation entirely, “she wants to erase me and the moment the press gets wind—”

All hell would break loose. 

“Lucien, I don’t think it works that way,” You assure him, even if your knowledge was slim, “there’s…that's your right, she’s your child.”

“Given my history, the judge could consider it,” Lucien replies lackluster, ashamed, “look—I’m sorry to dump this shit on you, I fucked up your apartment, I can find another place to stay and I’ll pay out the rest of the rent like I promised.”

You look at him with a gentle expression, tilting your head until his eyes finally rise, “I asked,” You remind him, “and I hated that lamp anyways, so you did me a favor,” It was a lie, but given his emotional state it was acceptable, watching as he forced a weak laugh, “I’m not kicking you out either, if the media publishes anything about it, you hunker down here. I can deal with a few paps, you know? We do work in the same industry, after all. I may not understand the full scope but I do understand, Lucien.”

He returns a look with sad, red-rimmed eyes as you reach to clean up your shared dinner, before approaching him with a careful few steps, a hand gliding over his bicep and your fingers rubbing at the small dip in the back of neck, your first real initiation of genuine touch. He was a touchy person himself and seemed at ease by the feeling, your lips coming to press a soft kiss against his cheek. Kind, friendly, you pat at his back.

Something changes between that touch and the look he gives you as he turns, eyes flicking toward your lips out of desire, silently he pushes logic aside and leans forward, pulling your chin into his hand like he has before, a familiar touch followed by a foreign one, plush lips against your own that has you swimming in a mix of emotions, eyes falling shut briefly before you realize what was happening, lips parting slightly as the tip of his tongue touches your own before you’re ripping away, eyes wide.

“Oh my god,” You utter out, wishing the words had stayed inside of your head, “I, uh–I’m—”

You stutter relentlessly before you’re scrambling toward your room, door falling shut with a soft click as you sink into your sheets, heart racing uncontrollably and your hands covering your face, unable to face what you had just escaped from as a knock comes a few minutes later on your bedroom door.

You couldn’t face him. You couldn’t.

Eventually, he leaves. Slow footsteps that eventually lead toward another door that closes too, unsure of where he was wandering off to, but you couldn’t think about that, not with the conflicting, battling emotions in your head and chest, a startling yearning coming from just a simple touch.

He was everything you despised—somehow finding level ground, adoring him, caring about him, it was never supposed to go this far. He started as an inconvenience, a disruption to your life…and now, you weren’t sure you could imagine it without him there, in some form.

It takes a couple hours, already deep into your slumber, but the dip of weight in your bed startles you for a moment before the movements stop, the strong press of a back against yours, and an unspoken security that pulls you both under quickly.

He’d gone out drinking again, but at this point, you couldn’t blame him.

–

He awakes to a sweet smell, distinct and fresh. And air, cool air. It can’t be dawn, the sun is too far in the sky to be early morning. Lucien rises with a heavy grogginess, rubbing at his eyes as he finds his footing and walks toward the living room of your apartment, finding your back turned to him as you fiddled with the buttons on your AC as you bid someone goodbye, a man carrying a toolbox descending toward the hallway.

He gears up for an apology, the words balancing on the tip of his tongue.

Suddenly, you’re in front of him, two filled mugs in hand, coffee just the way he liked.

 And Lucien doesn’t know when or why the feeling overtakes him, but he kisses you again. It isn’t a simple peck. It was full, all-consuming, feet lifting off the ground type of kiss.

No, literally—you rise to your tiptoes as the cups jostle in your grip as two large, warm hands curl around your back and his lips melt against your own, earning a starling gasp that slips through slightly parted lips, followed by his name after a moment too long.

“Coffee, coffee,” You mumbled quickly, “hot—burning, my toes,” Lucien pulled away quickly at the words, watching as the tan liquid pooled at your feet before he rushed to clean up the mess.

You watch with an amused expression before you finally hand the cup of coffee over, “Good morning to you too, I guess,” You smirk, biting down on your cheek to stifle the laugh that was fighting it’s way out, “please don’t tell me you’re still drunk.”

“I need to apologize,” Lucien tells you, “...again—I’m—I’m sorry for kissing you—again, like that, assuming that was something you wanted. I got pulled into the moment—”

You’ve had all night and morning to think it over, mulling over the emotions and feelings, still not quite sure, but you couldn’t help the swirling feeling of nervousness that had grown more frequent in Lucien’s presence, his looks, his flirtatious nature and touches. You were under his spell completely.

And if you didn’t want to kiss him, you would have stopped him.

Besides, you didn’t want to be the bearer of more bad news after his terrible night, having been let go from your job position that morning, no notice—you were still reeling, but didn’t want to burden Lucien with the news.

You needed something else to occupy your mind.

“Drink,” You instruct, taking a seat on the couch as you sip at your coffee in silence, watching as Lucien mirrored your actions and sat at the opposite end, legs out-stretched and his chest on display, tanned skin with neatly trimmed chest hair, soft tummy leading into the charcoaled, stretchy lounge pants leaving little to imagination as he fidgeted in his seat.

“Where’d you go last night?”

Lucien’s face immediately flushes with guilt, “The—a bar. I didn’t drink. I swear, I—”

He makes a small noise of frustration and closes his eyes, “I did something stupid, I needed a distraction, alright? I shouldn’t have kissed you, that’s not what you wanted, I know that.”

With a silent reservation, you press the coffee cup into the table in front of you before slowly make your way toward him on your knees before you pluck the half-empty mug from his grip and return it to a similar spot, feeling a surge of bravery as you climb onto his lap—there’s some underlying stupidity there, you think. But, fuck it.

“You don’t know what I want,” You assure him, fingers dragging along the top of his head before you’re tugging at the stands to tilt his head back, kissing him soundly, sweet dark roast on your shared breaths as you lick into his mouth, the opposite hand pressed flat against his bare chest. It takes a while, but eventually his brain catches up, along with his movements, and his hands curl around your bare thighs, fingertips grazing the silk shorts you wore to bed the night prior, like butter against your soft skin as his fingers climb and dig, pressing into your skin as you continue to discover every inch of him he had to offer—mouth, tongue, neck, chest.

It was a dormant hunger that had awoken after careful thought and pure primal need, tired of waiting things out for perfection when you had something tangible in front of you.

He’s mumbling your name softly as you lean into him, the bottom of your lip dragging against the tip of his nose as he pulls you away, strong hands encompassing your face as he looks at you, searching your glazed over eyes, “What are you doing?” He asks, apparent concern.

“Distracting you,” You tell him, immediately diving back in to kiss him, nipping at his chin playfully, a shaking sigh falling from his lips, “are you distracted?”

He chuckles weakly, “What happened to me being a cocky, egotistical, little dicked man?”

“I can go back to hating you if you want,” You respond, nipping at his ear before you pull back to look at him, so close you can feel his breath against your lips, “If you’re into that sorta thing.”

He could see in your eyes that you needed this too, a way to shut your brain off for a while, months of failed dates you’ve told him all about, in detail, he can’t help but chuckle at your eagerness, stifling a groan as you core grinds against him, cock stiffening with the movement.

“Maybe,” He’s undecided, “we’ll see how this goes.”

You smile wide, feeling a surge of pride as he returns the kiss more fully, a hand twisting around the back of your neck as he kisses you fully, all wet and uncoordinated but it makes your heart flutter in excitement.

“Let me taste you,” He begs, clawing at your top in an attempt to get his hands on your skin, pushing up the fabric as you follow his movements, top off, stripping your shorts down along with your underwear, an eager Lucien gripping at your hips to maneuver you down into the cushion as he hastily shoves the table away with his feet to make room for him on the floor, no reprieve as he hooks your legs over his shoulder and splits his tongue through your folds, licking up the center.

A man of his word, he tastes. Noisily he licks and prods, tongue dipping inside of along with wandering fingers, sucking gently at your clit until you’re yanking at his hair, hand curling over the back of his scalp, fingernails digging into the top of his back, moans spilling from your lips like a flowing river, the rapids rushing through, walls clenching around nothing but cool air as Lucien parts from you, admires. 

He’s got two hands on your thighs to keep you open, “Wider,” He coaxes, your breath quickening as he squeezes at your thighs, “right there, don’t move.”

He shoves his pants down his hips, the heel of his palm rubbing down his shaft as he wraps his fingers around his cock, jerking himself off at the sight of you, glistening and eager, your fingers digging into the cushion fabric—you’ve seen him before, naked, in starkly different context. 

But, he had nothing to be ashamed of, your eyes counting the faint splattering of freckles on his chest as his hand glides over his cock, tugs, thumb sliding over the tip to spread the precum down his shaft and you don’t hear him calling your name until his hand touches your skin, gliding over your knee as he taps, coming to with a weak, “Huh?”

Lucien laughs under his breath before he’s beckoning you closer, pushing up with your palms as he cups his hand under your chin and asks—no, demands, “Spit,” He tells you, following his order without missing a beat, the saliva dripping into his hands as you push it past your lips and he moves closer, knees settled on the plush rug in your living room, guiding you until your ass was nearly hanging off the couch and using your saliva to aid the tug of his cock.

“No condom,” You quickly interject, slightly out of breath. His mouth opens like he wants to respond but you quickly shush him, “we can avoid the spiel, I’m on the pill.”

Lucien shrugs with a cocked smile, “Just checking. You alright?”

You nod eagerly, dying for a reason to shut your mind off.

It was the perfect angle, his hips just level enough with your hips that he slid in with ease, adding his own string of spit into the mix as rubbed it down your cunt and pushed his cock inside—deeper, deeper, the head of his cock sliding against your folds teasingly as he rocks his hips until he’s fully flush inside of you.

Your anxious hands are taken hold by him, curling around his wrists instinctively before they’re being shoved over your head and against the back of the couch, his towering frame leaning over you as his hips piston you at a bruising pace, deep enough that it aches. It’s been long, so long and you feel pathetic for already wanting it so bad, core pulsating with an insatiable need.

His breath is hot, wet against your skin as his teeth graze against your breast, sucking the skin between his teeth as you gasp, “Louder,” Lucien coaxes, “let ‘em hear you. Think they deserve it after all they’ve put us through.”

You laugh at that, full-body and airy, eyes falling shut as Lucien plants a foot against the floor, changing up the angle to an intense degree, his cock slipping out briefly as he adjusts, catching glimpse of the string of shiny slick that connects you both before the thick head of his cock pushes back in, a soft squelch of admittance, a tell-tale sign of your obvious enjoyment.

If he knew this would shut you up, he would’ve tried seducing you months ago—though, he had a feeling the attempts would be futile, he was floating on his own cloud of disbelief that after all his wrong-doings, his missteps, it hadn’t pushed you away.

“Show me—huh, show me what you like,” Lucien pleads through baited breath, hair sticking to his forehead from the sheen of sweat, his own hands leaving yours with the silent promise that you wouldn’t move them, finding purchase underneath your thighs and pushing them up toward your chest, your fingers gripping around the back of the couch in desperation, “touch—touch yourself, show me.”

The drag of your hand is slow, but eventually your fingers hover over your cunt, pressing against your sensitive clit as you circle, slow and intentional movement that rips a loud moan from your chest matched with his pointed thrusts, feeling his stamina weaning as he watches, hips stuttering.

“You’re a fucking dream,” Lucien admires, “makin’ a damn mess, too. You hear that?”

He slows down on purpose, partially for his own benefit but he’s proving his point, that sticky squelch of arousal, his faint grunts mixed with your quickly rising moans.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?” He asks curiously, eyes locked on your pussy, watching his cock split you open, gripping him and pulling him back in eagerly with every thrust, “Look at me—answer me, baby.”

There’s something so distinct in the way he says it, laced with an addictive drug.

Your eyes peel open, bleary behind near tears and you shake your head.

“Do you wish it did?” You counter, earning a subtle head shake from Lucien as he pulls out.

A moan of disappointment leaves your mouth before he’s quickly jostling your around, chest against the couch, his hand spreading wide over your back as he bends you over, fisting his cock as he feeds it back into your greedy cunt, the swollen head making you gasp as it pushes through your over-sensitive folds.

He uses the leverage as his hand climbs, gripping at your shoulder to pull you up, bracketing your body into the couch with a knee at your side, pressing you tight into his chest, his hand sliding around to your chin and turning your face to his, lips parting as he fucks you with a newfound ferocity, eyes rolling back so deep you aren’t expecting the fingers that find your clit, circling the senstive nerves until you’re tipping over the edge, soft encouraging words pulling you through your orgasm like a gentle wave, his fingers slowing down as you resurface.

He comes soon after, his hips stuttering out of pace again as you lean forward, feeling him pull out at the last possible moment before he’s painting thick strips of come against your lower back, the fingers of his left hand digging into your skin as he grabs you tight, the tip of his cock sliding against your ass.

You collapse with a content laugh, oblivious to Lucien searching frantically for something to clean you up before settling on one of the kitchen towels, your body slumped lazily against the couch and sighing when you feel his warm touch, the words slipping out on their own accord, “I got fired.”

“What?”

He tosses the dirty towel aside and passes over your clothes, pulling his own lounge pants back up his hips, sans underwear—and it makes you curious how often he does that normally, comfortable as he takes a seat, legs spread wide as he settles into the cushion.

“They called this morning,” You explain easily, pulling your top over your head and maneuvering your panties and shorts back on, “wouldn’t give me a reason, but it doesn’t matter.”

Lucien’s brow furrows in thought, rubbing his thumb against his fingertips out of habit.

“Is this one of those situations where you’re gonna ask if I’ll sign an NDA?” You half-joke.

He shakes his head almost immediately. He doesn’t seem to find it amusing, almost slightly concerned—or wounded?

“Come work for me,” He insists, “I’ve been needing an assistant.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?” You ask him, staring at his flush chest and mused hair, evidence of rigorous sex all over his face, it was almost enough to have you confessing some unspoken feelings, but you weren’t that easily broken down.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Are you just trying to find a reason to stick around longer?” You tease him, a smile peeking out behind your tired expression, “Because it won’t work.”

“No—I’m serious about getting my shit together,” Lucien promises, “I might need a little help…but I want to.”

“Can I think about it?” 

Lucien nods, hands dropping to his lap as he fiddles with a ring on his finger, eventually trailing toward the chains around his neck before his head is popping up, a quizzical look on his face.

“Wait—was that because you were having a bad morning?”

The sex, he means.

A smile breaks out on your face, “Nothing an orgasm won’t fix.”

He can sense it isn’t the full truth, but he doesn’t pry.

“Damn straight,” He chuckles, both of you falling into a comfortable silence.

–

Your answer doesn’t come for a solid week, thinking over the pros and cons. It was complicated, indeed bound to be messy if you allowed it, but Lucien was promising to double your pay, no undermining, no hovering—it seemed too good to be true.

But, you were taking the risk.

Lucien was still awaiting the imminent release of the court documents, the storm of press, but when you were secured in the safety of your apartment, hidden under the blankets as Lucien clung to you, head buried in your chest and his cock still buried inside of you, a slow and lazy day was what he needed, but he also craved you—and he was addicting, impossible to deny.

“We can’t keep doing this when I start working for you,” You remind him.

“Who says we can’t?” Lucien asks curiously, adjusting his hips as he slides deep inside of your cunt, peering up at you with soft eyes, “We keep it casual, if we decide we wanna stop. We stop. It won’t affect your job. I’m not that much of a dick, baby.”

“Well, for starters, you can’t call me baby at work.”

Lucien nods dutifully, listening to you divulge into a long lists of hardset rules, eventually pulling your focus back to him, his hips moving at a slow but gradual pace until you can’t focus any longer, giggling loudly as he buries his face into your neck, a sufficient end to the conversation.

The rest could be figured out later.

-

dividers: @/saradika-graphics

[hana-no-seiiki]

This is generally such a stupid ask but I feel like it would be.. Chaotic? At the very least amusing

Anyways

Batfam x Nicole from Class of 09! Reader

Do what you want (etc make it romantic or platonic, doesn't matter)

Just the batfam (yandere ofc) dealing with a chick who loves to ruin lives for her amusement and sometimes for revenge

Istg she'll just bully them at any chance she gets

~ 🕒

I just binged watched Class of ‘09 and all its endings/choices for you non. I don’t think I can fully depict how brash wittiness of Nicole is but here I go! (I am so traumatized) Didn’t know that’s where “No I’m flirting with you flash me a tiddy bitch” came from no wonder Nicole sounded so familiar.

btw if people are interested in watching class of ‘09 just be warned it’s basically a VN version of Degrees of Lewdity but the mc is actually a minor (without the sex/r*pe mechanic though) and it depicts a lot of just… pedophilia, necrophilia, assault, su*c*de, school shootings, racism??, BE WARNED.

The following content above ^ might be mentioned in this fic but in passing. MASSIVE DDDNE WARNING.

I don’t think I’m comfortable writing stepcest/incest in this blog so despite how perfect it’ll be to make Bruce your step father considering Nicole’s mom has divorced like a hundred times…maybe ask me in @yoru-no-seiiki and I’ll be down for it.

THIS IS ADMITTEDLY TIM + DAMIAN CENTRIC

“Do you even care? Do the results of your actions mean anything to you?”

“Yeah when they affect me, sure.”

You were a bitch. There was no denying that. But you were a pretty one. One many would grovel to be under.

You were used to this, ever since you reached a certain age people just looked at you different, acted in a way that… made you think they were boring, utter losers.

One of those losers was Tim’s friend.

Like all the stupid, horny men in your life, you hung out with him once and he spilled everything there was that you could share.

To the entire campus, the internet, even the news.

And because you were pretty, you got off scot-free. Those morons didn’t even check to see what you’ve been doing the past decade.

Except Tim. Timothy Drake. You only knew that his dad was super rich, and as much as it was tempting to sink your teeth into him and get a load of that daddy’s money, you knew better.

He apparently didn’t.

You see there was one thing every batfam member couldn’t resist. Well, two things. The first was saving people.

The second? Fixing them.

When Tim first approached you he was confused.

You were quite the popular figure in Uni. He heard the rumors. He fully expected to be cussed out to hell and back.

But you were… nice. Agreeable at most really. Brash was an understatement. But you were witty. Your comebacks were swift and deadly.

The more he studied stalked you the more he realized that the two of you were the same.

Two bright people stuck with dull idiots.

And Tim? Tim interested you enough for you to not to completely drop him after the first week. That and most of your bullying probably wouldn’t bode well towards the son of a billionaire.

He was smart, even more so than that nerd friend of his that you destroyed the life of. But more importantly he actually had some tact, and was surprisingly packed underneath all those baggy clothes.

Tim had to admit he was kind of forgetting his entire purpose of ‘fixing’ you.

Until you manipulated yet another guy into jumping off a school building for you. Thankfully he survived because Red Robin happened to be there to apprehend him but still!

And what’s worse, you met up with him afterwards talking about how that Red Robin ruined all your plans of crippling a r*pist.

Wait, a r*pist?

Tim looks through your past victims once more. Admitted he only did a surface level job of studying them in comparison to his PhD level knowledge on everything about you specifically.

And…you were right. Every guy you’ve harassed was being pushy with you in the first place, if not people with authority a decade older.

Fuck.

Well now he had no excuse. He had to make you his.

Meanwhile…

“Ugh, Damian. Can’t you tell your brother to like, fuck off or something? I can feel my social standing totally plummet every second he’s around. How do you handle being related to him?” You groaned. You weren’t fucking stupid. You knew Tim was stalking and drooling all over you lately. You hated it. He was ruining your chances with your new victims.

“Jeez [Y/N]. And here I thought you were like, into him.” Jessica, your actual crush and best friend, commented as she filed her nails.

You being the emotional stunted adult you were only replied with an (admittedly softer) “Eat a sandpaper cock and die bitch.”

Damian stared at you, the words die before they crawl out of his mouth. His hands clenched underneath the lunch tables.

Guess he had another thing to steal from his brother this time.

[noemilivv]

Here I am with the ask!!! I was wondering if I could request headcanons for Adam, Alastor, Lucifer, Vox and Lute with how they would be with a sloth like S/o. I saw someone ask this on a blog I follow and I was stoked, I love this concept so much it's so funny I decided it's my favorite. INSANELY sleepy s/o, they sleep ALL the time and still manage to be super sleepy, they'd be walking down the street? They randomly fall asleep while walking, needless to say that's very dangerous in hell. In heaven a bit less, but let's say falling asleep while flying is definetely dangerous too. They're talking to someone? They might be trying to pay attention but still can't help help falling asleep, characters like Adam and Luci would definetely have no problem with that tho. They are incredibly slow, and also have the sloth tendency to climb(for the tall ones) and cling to said partner and hang onto them like ragdolls. They can stay awake if they replenish the energy they use immediately or by being monitored, but they're very concerning. I imagine warm milk would probably knock them out cold, coffee probably does little to nothing, maybe a huge amount would keep them on the brink of consciousness lol. (Sorry this got long, that's how much I find this concept hilarious, you don't actually have to include all everything I said if you don't wanna I was just rambling)

heyy again!! this is so cute and honestly i’m fangirling at the ideas i have for this haha, enjoy!!

Adam, Alastor, Lucifer, Lute, and Vox x Sloth!Reader

Adam

There’s a solid chance he makes fun of you for your sleepy antics, but only he can do that, no one else!

Unlike Hell, if you fall asleep on the side of the road in Heaven, he’ll just toss ya over his shoulder like nothing happened

Honestly, Adam is pretty tall, and he’s got a bit of muscle under his fit, so he doesn’t mind a bit if you climb about him and all that

Alastor

Honestly, Alastor doesn’t mind your sleepy antics, it gives him an opportunity to get whatever he needs done for that time until you awake again

Although, he probably won’t let you climb him though, due to his dislike of physical touch, but dw he’ll let you cling to him a bit

If you start to daze off while he’s talking he won’t mind, his smile will soften, and he’ll tug you to his chest, talking you to sleep

Lucifer

You guys don’t go out much, so it’s not often you fall asleep on the streets, but if you do, he’ll pick you up bridal style, he won’t make a big fuss about it, at least until you get home

Like Alastor, if you fall asleep mid convo, he won’t mind, he’ll just bring you to his chest and talk you to sleep

Although he is on the shorter side, if you wanna climb him, he’ll certainly let you! He thinks it’s the cutest thing!

Lute

Honestly, Lute hates it when you sleep a lot, as because of her job, she’s busy most of the time and can’t see you, so when she does see you, and you’re asleep, it’s eh…

If you climb on her, she’ll tense up a bit, but she won’t deny it, but there’s a chance she will the first few times. Affection is new to her.

Vox

He’s another tall one, so you could climb on him, but he’s a bit of a twig tbh, so he might not be able to hold you 😭

If you fall asleep during conversation, he’ll be all pissy, but if you fall asleep ON him, bro glitches so bad

Tried to make sure you don’t fall alseep on the streets in the first place, but if you do, bitch is waking you up, ain’t no way he’s carrying you

[peachsayshi]

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ being wrapped in your arms feels like coming home ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

wc: 1,820

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

notes: here is a little drabble in honor of toji's birthday! this piece was originally titled as "adoration" but I changed it to this instead. I'm taking a small posting break, but I'll be back to my regular schedule within a week! I'm sorry if I haven't been responding to tags or messages, but I will do so soon <3 I hope you're all having a wonderful time and I'm sending all my well wishes out to you! xo

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: widow toji; age gap (reader is 30 while toji is in his early 40s); a little angsty; toji attempting to break up with you but failing because he's oh so in love

toji overstayed his welcome which was only supposed to last the scorching heat of summer, but he found himself lingering through the quiet stillness of fall. winter came in with a brisk chill and gloomy skies, and that's when toji knew it was time for him to end things with you.

he’s lost interest far quicker in previous relationships. they served their purpose of healing over the wound in his heart, of soothing away the ache of loneliness. he oftens forgets that he was once a loyal, loving husband whenever he abandons yet another fling.

the difference, however, is he at least had the guts to verbally cut things off before.

fucking pathetic, he thinks as he scolds himself. he's been a coward, reducing his actions to disappearing before the sunlight peeks through the horizon, and avoiding any chance of waking you up. he ensures that he is never there to see the way your brows furrow with concern when your hand meets the cold pillow, because otherwise he would falter in his attempt to escape.

this has been going on for over two weeks now but last night was the first time you've actually snapped at his cold, detached behavior. he approached the argument with nonchalance to wither you down, shrugging off the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach and then walking out halfway through the fight.

he stayed at a motel thinking that maybe you have finally taken the hint that he's done.

he arrives back to his apartment only to be met with unfamiliar silence. the entrance of his home is dark and lifeless, and it's so quiet he can even hear a pin drop. there's a tightness in his chest, followed by a wave of disappointment that runs over him like a feverish shiver.

despite his hard headed decision, he's still anticipating on hearing your lovely voice to greet him as he walks through the door.

he knows it's selfish.

toji expected many things to happen after last night's fight. he figured the reaction to him leaving you (again) would be far bigger. a screaming phone call or a string of cursing text messages to call him out on his shitty behavior.

after all he deserves it for acting like an insufferable asshole.

he tries to swallow his guilt but it remains lodged in his throat when he acknowledges that this might actually be the end. 

the expression on his features falls.

it’s better this way, he consoles, dragging his feet across the floor to approach his kitchenette. he shrugs off his beaten up, oversized coat and tosses it over one of the chairs. he opens one of the cupboards, and grabs a mug to prepare himself a cup of tea.

she’s too young to settle for a guy like me, he continues. widowed with two kids who he barely sees anymore, working paycheck to paycheck just to make ends meet…

a deadbeat.

he exhales, swirling his brew in his ceramic cup. the aroma of sweet leaves dances up the spiral of steam to kiss his nose.

she deserves more than me.

he places the kettle down but stares at the cup mindlessly, losing all train of thought as his hands grip onto the edge of the counter. 

he can acknowledge that his insecurities are clouding his judgement on something truly special, even though this was only ever meant to be purely physical.

except, the sex was growing more intimate. the experience wasn't about pleasure for him anymore. he would find himself losing all focus to the depth of your pretty eyes, stealing kiss after kiss like your mouth was the source of where all his happiness belongs.

belonged.

belonged.

it’s over now, he thinks again. it has to be.

a faint patter of footsteps distracts him, prompting him to ease his hold on the counter as the muscles on his face relax. his heart steadies itself, and he draws in a breath when he feels two arms delicately twine around his waist.

“you’re...still here...” he points out in shock. 

he feels you press your forehead into his back. “of course, where else would I be?” 

he clears his throat to release the guilt then spins on his heel to face you.

"I thought you might have taken off," he bluntly states as he rests his lower back against the counter.

his heart swells, emanates flurries of golden sparks when he meets your gorgeous irises. the will to carry on with his decision crumbles when he catches the corner of your mouth tick into a slight grin.

"I thought about it," you reply casually, loosening your grip to place your palms flat on the side of his stomach. "but the truth is I'm worried about you and I just…want to talk things out…make sure you're okay...”

“I’m the one acting like a jerk and you’re worried about me?” he blurts.

you quirk your brow at the slip of his question. “so, you know you’re acting like a jerk?”

toji’s eyes widen slightly, a hint of pink tainting his cheek. “I asked the question first.”

you purse your lips playfully, aware of the crack that's been revealed and ready to swing once again with another blow.

“it’s because you’re acting like a jerk that I’m worried about you,” you explain, “you’re not yourself when you’re unsettled about something…”

his face warms, the hue of pink deepening into a stronger blush. the familiarity of pointing out his personal traits feels all too homely. seven months shouldn’t feel like a forever but in this bubble with you time ceases to exist.

you trail the pads of your finger tips up his torso, your hands clasping around the back of his neck as you press all your soft and sweet parts right up against the frame of his body.

the brush of your lips on his scar prompts him to flutter his eyes close. he fails to stop himself from holding you then, his firm hands reaching for the outline of your waist

“so,” you murmur with a tempting kiss as you return to your question, “you know you’re acting like a jerk then?”

please don’t make me say it, he thinks, please don’t make me unravel right in front of your eyes.

he squeezes your side, whispering a defeated “listen…”

“did I do something wrong?” you question, a hint of pain laced through every vowel which only makes his heart ache further. “did something happen?”

toji shakes his head.

“it’s not you,” he grumbles. “look, you asked me a couple of weeks ago if this thing between us was serious and…it shouldn’t be.”

you narrow your gaze, tilting your head with adorable confusion that makes toji want to kiss you right there on the spot.

he can feel you pluck at the fabric of his sweater nervously, “why not?”

toji drops his head and sighs.

“c’mon, doll, let’s be real. I’ve got nothing to give you other than a good fuck in this shitty apartment. you're better off finding someone else and I don't want to waste your time”

you press your mouth into a firm line. “your behavior…” you reply, nipping your bottom lip slightly as you gather your thoughts. “are you acting like this because you…want to end things with me?”

toji has never felt smaller. you’ve reduced him into a shriveled pea rolling around his scuffed up boot. “look, it’s better this way, alright?” he admits with a raise of his head, still refusing to outwardly say what you easily deduced. “it's better to move on before things get too complicated…”

the silence hangs heavy in the air, the tension so thick toji feels like he can’t breathe properly. his heart rattles with no restraint, and he finds himself suddenly lightheaded. an apology rests on the tip of his tongue, ready to take back everything he just bombarded you with but his throat simply tightens once more when your hands cradle his strong jaw.

“I like your apartment,” you quietly speak, “your bed sheets always smell so good, and you fixed the water pressure after I complained that it sucked…”

toji blinks back his surprise.

“I also notice that you burn the candle that I got you and that you switched laundry detergents when your old one gave me that weird rash,” you giggle and toji couldn’t help but huff out an embarrassed laugh himself. “the windows let in the best kind of sunlight, and it’s always so cozy in here…”

you press your lips against his mouth to leave a chaste kiss, “as for the company…” you add on, nuzzling the tip of your nose over his, “I consider you more than just a good fuck.”

toji can physically feel himself wilting underneath the heat of your gaze. “I’m just looking out for you, doll.”

"you can look out for me by making me breakfast instead of running away from me..."

he looks serious but his eyes are sincere, holding a level of tenderness that he only reserves for you. his palm moves to seek out your lower back, a hint of pressure pulling you back into his warmth.

your lover has stayed tight lipped about his past, but over his period with you he's found himself spilling out a few secrets here and there.

"I haven't done this in a long time," he vulnerably admits.

"I know," you reassure him, "but...the real question is, do you want this?"

he parts his lips ready to seal the last nail in the coffin, ready to give you the chance to walk out of his life for good. but you're gazing up at him from underneath your eyelashes, your determined stare an opening of your own mercy. your plush, supple lips summoning his cowardice into oblivion.

"toji?"

his breath hitches, his apprehension silenced by the urgency of his desire.

you're so lovely, he thinks. you feel like home.

"I want you," he reveals, his deep voice smoky and untethered, releasing enough sentiment in those three words that he can feel you tremble in his arms. "I just don't deserve you. I don't want you getting caught up in my bullshit..."

""you're a lot sweeter than you look, you know?" you run your fingers through the streaks of his black hair, combing it back to reveal his forehead. "you deserve to be happy, toji, and...and I think I can make you happy..."

your aura beams with delight when he flashes you a wolfish grin in return. a smile you've grown to adore so deeply. his apology comes in the form of a kiss, one that's gentle and slow. a stroke of fire burns up the back of your neck, making you quiver in places when he glides his tongue across yours. you hum softly into his lips while he releases a content sigh, the barrier he's been keeping up turns to ashes beneath your feet.

[unalivejournal]

imagine a tumblr simulator set in the velvet goldmine universe lmfao

2 notes

🎹 wilderatz Follow

DNI if you still support br*an sl*de after the shooting hoax. what he did was fucking unacceptable and pathetic. the panic and heartbreak on the dashboard that day was absolutely traumatizing. and the fact that it was all for cheap publicity makes it even more despicable. if you HAVE to listen to his records the least you could do is buy them secondhand

#so glad curt never cut that record with him

186 notes

⭐️ glittersisgay

i got new boots! seeing the flaming creatures tonight :-) life is good

4 notes

👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼 wildemons Follow

sorry but the sladewild narrative is CRAAAAZY. like imagine you start off as a nobody performer and becoming enthralled by this rockstar after he shows up your act and you end up becoming famous by being inspired by his stage presence AND YOU BECOME FAMOUS ENOIGH TO GO TO AMERICA AND MEET THIS GUY AND YOUR LABELS START FABRICATING A RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN U TWO TO GENERATE PUBLICITY FOR YOUR NEW ALBUM BUT THEN YOU ACTUALLY FALL IN LOVE AND HAVE TO KEEP IT A SECRET BUT THEN THE PAPARAZZI FINDS OUT AND YOU HAVE A HUGE FALLING OUT BUT THEN A FEW WEEKS LATER YOURE SPOTTED IN THE CROWD AT THE DEATH TO GLITTER SHOW

♻️ 🦷 roxytunes Follow

lmfao WHAT are you talking about. swear to god i’m sick of you invasive freaks trying to make things up about real peoples lives. the part about the labels trying to market slade and wild as a couple isn’t even true. yes they were heavily publicized as close friends but they never admitted to being in a relationship. also receipts on brian being at the death to glitter show???? stop spreading false information

♻️ 👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼 wildemons Follow

anyways watch out for my new sladewild maxwell demon tour era fic that will be published in my next zine 💋

#my mutual was literally next to him in the crowd.

58 notes

🪩 girlboydragdemon

at the Sombrero Club with the glamrocktuals YAYYYY

♻️ 🪩 girlboydragdemon

Hangover.

#we may have made. mistakes. #also we think brian slade’s former manager was in the booth behind us

11 notes

🌟 venusinpurrs

♻️ 🎸 balladofmaxwellsemen Follow

WHY ARE WE PITTING THREE BAD BITCHES AGAINST EACH OTHER

♻️🌟 venusinpurrs

better question WHY ARE VENUS IN FURS LOSING GUYS CMON ITS OBVIOUSLY THE RATS

♻️🌟 venusinpurrs

do you people hate dykes

244 notes

💋 jack-fairy-fan51 Follow

Anyone else feel like this Tommy stone guy showed up out of nowhere?

6 notes

❇️ 20th-cxntury-bxy

Well…. it’s been a fun time on the road with Malcolm & co. (@/theflamingcreatures) but in the months following the hoax and the death to glitter tribute I’ve been feeling more and more inclined to move on. idk. i know there’s still an active tumblr community but in the real life scene it feels like everyone’s just…. given up. I’ll be starting a new job soon and won’t have a lot of time to post. Might delete this blog in the near future. remember to support local shows and keep being yourself

#a.journal

0 notes

👨‍🎤 lipstickkissedelbowglove

word on the street is that mandy slade divorced brian???? lmao get his ass

♻️���‍🎤 lipstickkissedelbowglove

[#finally i have a chance with her]

you’re funny if you think any of us on this site have an inkling of a chance with her

2,658 notes

🎸 balladofmaxwellsemen Follow

Just found this on the sidewalk. does anyone know what it is?

7 notes

[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller’s ff) - chapter 7

chapter 6 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 8

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. (it's actually 2004 now)

summary: as idyllic as chicago may seem, the world around you is still in shambles. your duties to the community take you on a rescue mission, one you think will be easy. but will it?

a/n: hiya! we are soooo close to the vision i had for this series, i'm literally shitting myself with nerves but also excitement, ugh 😫 i really hope you like this one! i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! even asks/requests if you want to! take care lovelies <3 x

warnings: 18+, mdni. a smidge of angst and fluff. filthy smut (don't you know me by now?). unprotected piv. masturbation (f receiving). oral (m receiving). spanking and one account of pussy slapping. joel's a boobs' guy in this one. soft!dom!joel. pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, baby). then clickers, clickers everywhere. death & violence. swear words. i'm sure i'm forgetting something lol. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 37. no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov.

w/c: ~4.7k.

tags aka the drama wagon (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!):

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981

@fancyyoouu @smolbeanzzz @guelyury @bishtrouille

“Joel Miller”.

Was that a suicide mission? Probably, but you hoped not.

It wasn’t like you had a choice anyway. The moment you heard Joel’s name being called for this rescue mission, you knew you were going to volunteer to go with the party. Yes, he was going to get angry and try to talk you out of it, but it would be in vain. You would follow him to the end of the world if necessary.

You stood there by his side, the canteen rammed with people ― all of you looking towards the platform in the north corner. One of the leaders, Troy, kept on shouting names to the void. You glanced up at Joel, who was completely still, his eyes fixed on the podium. You couldn’t tell if he was upset or not, but he would soon be for sure.

Once Troy finished talking, an uncomfortable silence ensued, only broken by the quiet sobs of a young fellow whose named had been picked. Eric, you remembered. He must have just turned eighteen, because he looked so damn young. His mother was by his side, hugging him with tears on her eyes.

That scene broke your heart a little.

“Any volunteers?”, said the leader after a minute.

You looked around. No one was talking, everyone pretending they didn’t hear the question.

You felt Joel’s hand firmly grip your left wrist, silently asking you to remain quiet. He knew what you were about to do, but he couldn’t stop you.

You raised your right hand, eyes to the front, avoiding visual contact with him.

“I’ll take Eric’s place”, you said with a steady voice.

Joel grunted audibly, his fingers tighter around your wrist.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?”, you heard him mumble under his breath.

You ignored him.

“Great, thank you. Y’all are dismissed, except for those elected. Come forward”.

Before Joel had the chance to even talk, Eric and his mother approached you. She hugged you, still sobbing, and you palmed her back in a calming manner. The young bloke stared at you, silently crying and mouthed a “thank you”.

“I’m eternally grateful. Eric is the only person I have left by my side. My husband, my daughter… everyone is gone”, whispered the woman in your ear.

You held the tears by gulping down the knot in your throat. Although you didn’t necessarily volunteer for his son originally, her emotion was so sincere it tugged at your heart.

The woman broke off the hug, touched your forearm in gratitude, and then walked off with her son.

You turned around to face Joel. His jaw was so clenched you worried he was going to chip a molar.

Joel wanted to shake some sense into you so badly, he had to tightly close his fists. He couldn’t comprehend why you would do that. He wanted to keep you safe, and you were not making it an easy task. What if he lost you? What would he do then? That simple thought made him feel sick. You were the glue holding him together, the only reason he woke up every day and didn’t give up.

The mere thought of losing you consumed his brain, whether he liked it or not. He… he loved you, all of you, but was too afraid to speak his mind, to jinx it. Because he was cursed. Saying it out loud would put you in the universe’s bullseye, he was sure of it.

When the woman and his son left along with almost everyone else, Joel pulled you from your elbow, slamming you against his chest. He really was trying not to lose his shit in public, but fear was gripping him by his neck, the grim reaper’s noose strangling him.

“You ain’t coming. I don’t fucking care if that kid dies, you’re staying right here. Tell Troy you have changed your mind now”, he muttered, teeth gritting, his fingers sinking around your flesh.

“You’re hurting me, Joel”, you whispered, and he relaxed his hand’s grip, although he didn’t let go. “Look, I know it’s scary, but if you’re going, I’m coming with you. You won’t get rid of me so easily”, you taunted him.

The joke wasn’t welcomed, which you expected.

“If you get hurt, even a tiny scratch ― I’m gonna fucking kill you myself”, his head was bowed towards yours, his mouth too close, your palms on his chest.

So close you couldn’t refrain yourself from placing a gentle kiss on his lips. That soothed him, but just a bit. You glanced at him, containing your amusement.

“Well, that’s a paradox, don’t you think?”, you spoke softly before taking a step back, holding his hand. “C’mon, they are waiting”.

“We’re not done talking about this”, he grunted.

You dragged Joel to the circle where the other six lucky people were standing around Troy, in time to listen to whatever he had to say about this mission.

“As I was explaining at the beginning of this meeting, our most experienced medic, Sasha, and her team, have not returned from their scavenging run. They went out a couple of days ago looking for medical supplies and we have not heard back from them in the last twenty-four hours. We must bring them back. That is, if they are still alive”, Troy explained while he flattened a map of the city on the table in front of him. “Their last contact was from Illinois Medical District, somewhere around Ogden Avenue. We assume they went in John H. Stroger, Jr. Hospital of Cook County”. Troy laid out the plan to follow, before finishing with a, “You’re leaving in three hours, good luck”.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?”, Joel growled as soon as the door closed behind him.

Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t stop himself from worrying. The memory of almost losing you still haunted him. The overthinking, the fear, the irrevocable doom ― it all made him feel uneasy. He just wanted to keep you away from all harm. That fateful night Joel swore to himself he would never let anything happen to you ― not while he was still breathing.

He had lost too much, but also gained so much ― he could not, would not, lose you too. Even if it was the last thing he did in this world. Over the last year, he had grown attached to you. You taught him there was light on the shore ― that life didn’t have to end the moment he lost Sarah, as much as he wanted it to. You showed him he could still care, laugh, protect, cry, worry, relax, feel. Feel so much, so vividly.

Joel could have said all that to you instead of his scolding question, but he didn’t know any better. His feelings were an entangled mess, one he didn’t have the experience to unravel.

His anger shimmered when you rolled your eyes at him.

“Honestly, I don’t know what you worry about, Joel. It will be fine. We’ve been through worse than this puny, little rescue mission. We’ll be okay”, you downplayed with a sweet smile, your hand stroking his forearm.

“What if we aren’t? What if you get hurt?”, he muttered, his jaw muscles rigid.

Your features softened; your sweet lips pursed.

“I can’t, you’ll kill me yourself, don’t you remember?”, he deciphered your joking tone, but to him this was no laughing matter. “Your paradox?”, you added cocking an eyebrow, mistaking his silence for forgetfulness.

“I know what I said. And I meant it. You can’t get hurt, got it? I forbid you”, his voice was serious. He knew you couldn’t make such a promise, but he insisted anyway, “Promise me”.

Something in you shifted because Joel saw your expression change from amusement to understanding. You got closer, sliding your arms around his waist. Joel draped his around your shoulders, his heart beating loudly in his ribcage. He held you tight, your nose poking his chest, your palms resting on the small of his back.

He shut his eyes, counting his blessings.

“I promise”, you conceded in a hushed tone.

His reply was simple ― he pressed his lips against your forehead as his body relaxed into yours.

At midnight, both you and Joel walked towards the 1999 Jeep Cherokee you had parked on South Damen Avenue. You had just done a reconnaissance mission around the hospital’s west wing. You had been in there for two full hours and didn’t find a living soul, just clickers. You were sweaty because of the physical effort, your gun still hot. You cleaned the blade of your knife on your jeans before sheathing it in your belt. You trotted to the passenger’s side while Joel headed towards the driver’s, both of you jumping in the car.

Two members of the team, Jordan and Margaret, had just taken over you after you reported back to them what you encountered inside. You saw them walking towards Winchester Avenue to sweep the north wing of the building. Daisy and Adam just returned too and headed towards the second car in West Polk Street ― they had explored the south wing at the same time as you had been inside. Luke and Taylor had just taken over them to inspect the east wing of the hospital.

“That was… interesting”, you said while closing the passenger’s door. “If they really went in there, there was absolutely no trace of them. It’s like they have vanished”.

“Yeah, it’s weird. Not even one clicker was dead before we entered. If they had encountered any issues, surely they would have killed some of them. We should have seen bodies or something, I dunno”, Joel thought out loud, leaving his firearm on top of the dash at the same time you did.

“Let’s see if Jordan and Margaret, or Luke and Taylor get back with news, otherwise this is going to be boring as fuck”, you commented as Joel leaned towards you to open the glove box. “What are you doing?”, you asked him out of curiosity.

“Looking for entertainment”, he then pulled a pack of cigarettes with a smile on his face. “You smoke?”, he asked while breaking the plastic seal around it.

You shook your head. It wasn’t a habit you wanted to pick up now, although you didn’t mind others smoking. Joel rolled down his window while pressing the car’s cigarette lighter against the tip of the fag. He then put the lighter back in its slot and laid his right hand on your left thigh ― his fingertips stroking your inner thigh. So possessive, your temperature started to rise, a slick warmth pooling in your lower belly.

You glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, but he didn’t notice ― Joel was looking through the driver’s window, his elbow poking out and resting on the door frame while he took a puff. You hovered your fingers over his on your thigh, your palm against the back of his hand, your digits intertwined in a fist as you slid them closer to your crotch.

“I could entertain you, if you wanted me to”, you whispered when his knuckles nudged your cunt.

Joel turned to look at you so fast you thought he might snap his neck. His eyes drifted down and darkened. He poked your pussy with his knuckles again, this time of his own volition.

“We shouldn’t”, a muscle twitched in his jawline.

You smiled.

“I’m sure Adam and Daisy can keep watch on their own for a while”, you bit your bottom lip as you flattened his hand against your belly and guided him down, underneath your jeans and panties. His palm flushed against your mound. “Please?”, you added, flashing your eyelashes at him.

Joel dunked his middle finger in your wet slit and stroked your clit. You pressed your lips, gazing at him like a needy puppy. He didn’t break visual contact as his index joined the middle finger, both digits tracing your damp furrow. You sobbed quietly as Joel took another drag, submerging his long finger until it disappeared in your weeping hole. He moved it in a circular motion, and you gasped.

“Is this what you need, sweetheart?”, he murmured. You nodded frantically. “Always so needy for some cock, aren’t you?”.

“Not just any cock, yours”, you emphasized with a stuttering voice, your insides melting for him.

His eyes flickered with lust, a sinful grin taking over his lips.

You whimpered, tilting your head backwards to rest against the headrest, as his index joined the middle one in your warm pit. You started panting when he caressed your g-spot non-stop while he finished his cigarette nonchalantly. Joel stubbed it out when he was done with it and then pushed his fingers in your cunt as far as he could take them, bottoming out, to the point where the force he was using made you lift your hips off the car seat.

You were so close to coming ― your sleek pussy beating for him, clasping around him. You were so soaked, his digits were drowning inside of you, making squelching noises as Joel fingered you relentlessly. You held on to his torturing wrist, feeling the rhythm he was imposing on you. Your drenched pussy palpitated, your clit on fire ― and so you came with a loud, prolonged moan, your knees shaking.

Joel rubbed your clit one more time before removing his hand from your underwear.

“C’mon, be a good girl now and do your job”, he ordered, cupping his swollen groin.

“Yes, sir”, you murmured, your cunt still gushing, deluging your panties.

He took your right hand and placed it on his bulge, rubbing your palm against the zipper of his jeans. You grasped the metal rod of his headrest while you leaned forward and ghosted his mouth, your playful hand kneading his erection. Your lips crashed and the kiss got sloppy ― his tongue wrestled with yours, while you unbuckled his belt and undid the zipper.

The palm of your hand slid off his length over his briefs. Then you pushed down the elastic of his underwear and his cock popped out. You ignored his shaft to massage his ballocks. You squeezed them gently and Joel let out a horny moan in the middle of the messy kiss. The most perfect melody you ever heard.

You broke off the smooch to catch a breath, your hand still holding his balls, your thumb rubbing the ridge in between his nuts. You pecked his Adam’s apple as you wrapped your fingers around his shaft, moving your hand up and down slowly. Joel sat up a bit to remove his shirt and then rested his back against the car seat again. You kissed the centre of his collarbone, your lips drifting southwards on his skin.

You bit around his belly button when you heard him lit another cigarette, the smoke filling up the cabin. You finally went down on him and showered his cock with wet licks. Joel sighed audibly, relaxing on his seat, which made you smile. Your tongue twirled around the tip of his dick once before you backed off and spit on his erection. You slathered your saliva on his steely column, then bente forward with your mouth open to imprison his glans with your plush lips.

A controlled groan escaped Joel’s mouth ― squirming in place, trying to make himself comfortable when you took his dick in your mouth. He looked down, your head bobbing up and down on his lap, your lips pressed around his cock, creating a seal. He felt himself trapped in your throat, his tip touching the back of your wet cavity. His left hand put the cigarette on his lips and took a long puff as he placed his right hand on your neck. You were wearing a ponytail ― in a moment of weakness he grabbed it resolutely, forcing you down on him.

Your eyes watered, your gag reflex being tested, your chin caressing his testicles. You retched a bit, your throat adapting to his massive girth and length. He had gotten rough for a second, which meant you were pushing him to his limits. When Joel realised that you were struggling a bit, he quickly let go of your ponytail.

“Shit, sorry, darlin’”, he growled.

You freed his cock to breathe and giggled, your mouth full of sticky precum. You started pumping him, kissing the velvety skin on his balls, while his right hand travelled down your back until he seized the back of your underwear and yanked it. The rims of your panties slid over your skin and got stuck in your slit and butt crack, as if you were wearing a g-string. The clothing caught on your clit and you gasped as he pulled upwards, the garment scrunching in your fold, causing a delightful friction against the centre of your pleasure.

Joel stirred his hips, which told you he was close to coming. You sat back up, your teary eyes meeting his lustful ones. He wiped away a tear off your cheek.

“Come sit on my lap, baby, let me fuck that pussy of mine”, he offered, tapping his left thigh, and putting out the cigarette butt on the car’s ashtray.

Before you happily obliged, you pushed down your jeans and panties to your ankles and kicked your feet until they came off. Your t-shirt quickly followed, no bra. Then you hastily straddled him as commanded. Joel set down his hands on your ass and abruptly spanked one of your buttocks. You jerked your hips up at the surprise ― your cunt above his belly button.

Holding you there, he lapped your right nipple with the tip of his tongue. The tight button shrunk in excitement as you whimpered. Then his lips closed around the puckered teat and sucked it in in his mouth. This time you whined, the sound reverberating in your throat as you slammed your eyes shut. Your wanton pussy was dripping on to his belly while he alternated between your boobs to eat them like a glutton ― the discharge of your passion running down from your leaking hole on to his belly button, then pooling on the tip of his manhood, sliding off his happy trail and length to finally gather on his balls.

His tongue gave you no truce ― licking, sucking, taunting, smothering your nipples. You dug your fingers in his hair, pressing his gorgeous face against your breasts. Joel palmed your shivering pussy from behind, his fingertips caressing your clit, which he started tapping sweetly. Your head leaned forward in awe, eyes closed, to kiss his crown. His fingers became more intrusive, his mouth more demanding, until you couldn’t deal with it anymore. You wailed his name as you came, your knees quivering. Then he slapped you hard on your pussy ― one of your hands flew to your lips to stifle your own scream. Joel immediately massaged your puffed-up flaps, his cold skin a calming balm on yours.

“Good girl, sweetheart. Now fuck yourself with my dick”, he instructed you before trapping your nipple in between in his teeth and pulling.

You saw stars behind your eyes.

You let go of his hair, curved your back and cradled his face with both hands, tilting it up towards you so you could kiss him fondly as you dropped your hips. His cock found your pulsating opening ― it was like his body knew its way to yours blindly. Your palms flat against his cheeks, your breath and his collided like a tornado when you both moaned in each other’s mouths. You plummeted on his lap, burying him completely inside of you. Your hips rolled of their own accord. Slowly you rode him, up and down, back and forth, your lips attached to his at all times. The tip of his cock kept stroking the right spot over and over again ― every single time it would drag along your anterior wall, driving you crazy.

You felt like riding a rollercoaster ― your orgasm building up as you approached the top and then you tipped over with no warning. Your lips parted as wave after wave washed over you in bursts. Your cunt narrowed down, choking his dick, palpitating, involuntarily pleading for him to come with you.

“Fuck, fuck ― FUCK”, he groaned painfully, lifting your ass off his cock rashly.

Just in the nick of time, he came ― his cock twitching against your belly button, you wielding him, gently pumping his shaft as the last shots of cum spurted out the slit on his glans. You squeezed his erection one last time, kissing him lovingly on the chin.

Labouredly breathing, both of your hearts slowed down together as you recovered. His gaze darkened ― you could see the longing, the yearning in his eyes. The care, the affection, but also the fear. Your heart swelled at the realisation ― he hadn’t said it yet, but you knew, even though you thought he hadn’t realised it himself. You just needed to be patient with him. You had time.

With a doting smile, your thumb hovered over his lips before you pressed them with yours.

An hour had gone by, and there was no news from Jordan nor Margaret. You had radioed the second car ― they hadn’t heard back from Luke and Taylor either. The pack of cigarettes was only half full now, Joel chain smoking, both of you watching the building attentively. You tried to contact Jordan over the radio, but there was no reply.

You clicked your tongue, handing Joel the radio and grabbing the gun off the dash.

Joel’s eyes darted to you.

“Where do you think you are going?”, his brows furrowed.

“I’m just gonna have a quick look around the corner, that’s all”, you said, opening the passenger’s door.

“Then I’m coming with you”, he grunted.

Joel grabbed his firearm and left the radio on the dash. Both doors shut silently, the night was so eerily calm you could hear a pin drop.

The chilling early December air greeted you as you stepped out. You started walking towards Winchester Avenue, where Jordan and Margaret had disappeared from sight. Joel was a few metres behind you, covering your back.

Then you heard it before you saw it. You signalled for Joel to stop in his tracks. A quiet sob, a thud. With your back against the wall, you sticked out your head to sweep the entrance to the emergency room. Sasha was on the floor, all bloody, Margaret crouching over her. You couldn’t hear their whispers. As Margaret helped Sasha to her feet, the medic whimpered and hobbled, her knees touching the pavement again.

“Shit”, you cursed, running towards them, Joel on your heels. “What’s happened?”, you questioned, putting your gun away, grabbing Sasha’s left arm to drape it over your shoulders.

Sasha just wept, shaking uncontrollably, so you looked at Margaret for answers.

“Where’s Jordan?”, you asked before she shook her head with pouty lips and mournful eyes.

Fuck, you thought, the weight of a massive stone grounding your stomach.

As Sasha stood with you, Joel clutched his fingers around your left elbow, yanking you away from both women. You lost your grip on Sasha as you stumbled with your own feet, Joel’s hand steadying you to prevent you from falling.

You wanted to shout at him, but you refrained. He had drawn his gun and was pointing it to Sasha’s forehead.

“You’ve been bit”, he sentenced, unruffled, his hand still.

You looked down and then you saw teeth’s marks on Sasha’s forearm. Your eyes jumped to hers, a mixture of fear and sympathy.

Margaret sobbed, her hand flew to Joel’s wrist, trying to push down the gun.

“Joel, please, she’s my best friend, we can’t just―”, before she was able to finish, a commotion caught your attention.

Both you and Joel looked up at the same time, a clicker dragging its feet towards you. In its past life, it had been a teen girl, brunette, curly hair. Had it not been for the fungus growing around her mouth, her decomposed expression and awkward walking, you knew she would have been beautiful.

Then it lunged forward towards you, but Joel was quick enough to shoot it right between its eyes. You gasped, clutching onto him. You had a glimpse at his face ― he seemed to have seen a ghost, but the moment was fleeting, his demeanour composed again.

He turned his gun to Sasha once more. You really thought he was going to execute her there and then.

More clicking sounds, dragged by the wind. You could see movement through the glass doors.

“Are you coming or not? She’s staying though”, Joel repeated, his tone soulless.

There was no time to respond, as a small group of clickers tumbled through the emergency doors, throwing them open and running fast towards all of you, as if they had awakened from their lethargy.

Joel reacted before you did ― he snatched you and pushed you in front of him, urging you to run.

“Run! Run!”, he screamed at you, your legs taking you away as fast as they could, Joel racing behind you towards the car.

You heard the loud shrieks as both women were torn apart. You blinked to keep the tears at bay, and you didn’t look back.

Joel skidded through the mud, his hand grasping the handle on the driver’s side as you jumped inside. He swiftly put the keys in the ignition at the same time the radio went off.

“Abort! Drive! GO! THEY ARE HE―”, you both looked towards West Polk Street, the headlights of the other car blinded you as they turned the corner towards South Damen Avenue.

Three clickers were on the roof of the car, two on the hood. The driver steered the wheel to the left abruptly to get rid of the infected, but lost control of the car quickly ― and then hit a tree. Both Daisy and Adam jumped out of the car, horror folding their faces.

You opened the passenger’s door, standing on the edge of the car. The whole scene was hectic, your heart pounding so hard you feared it was going to explode inside your chest. You waved at them.

“RUN! OVER HERE!”, your screams drowned by the characteristic sounds of the clickers. And then the infected caught up with them, knocking them to the ground. “NO!”, you squealed as their deathly screams filled the air.

You froze in place, in shock. You couldn’t look away ― Daisy’s hand emerged from the mass of bodies she was buried under, her fingernails digging the ground to get away. You caught a glimpse of her imploring eyes, a silent plea asking you to save her.

Bile travelled up your throat, but you swallowed hard.

Joel grabbed the back of your t-shirt to pull you back inside the car and pointed to the crushed car, now on fire, the motor of yours roaring awake. Then you saw them. Dozens of infected coming towards you. Your eyes widened, but you managed to slam the door shut as Joel drove away towards Interstate 290.

His driving was manic, as if the devil himself was following you. He turned the wheel so harshly, so many times as he dodged anything and everything in his path, that you had to hold on to the grab handle.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You surveyed the outside world ― your forehead almost touching the window as you saw herds of clickers in motion. Hundreds of them pouring out of the buildings. You scanned the landscape in terror ― there were so many.

Now you understood why this was no man’s land.

Joel laid his hand on your left thigh, a soundless beg to look at him instead of out the glass. So you did. You gaped as if you were about to say something.

“It’s okay, we’re okay, baby”, he whispered, his eyes never leaving the highway.

You both were okay. But at what cost?

Sasha and her team. Adam and Daisy. Margaret and Jordan. And Luke and Taylor, most probably dead too.

So was the world you lived in. So fucking dead.

But you kept your promise, the paradox forgotten. You were okay.

[neiptune]

on the outside of the greatest inside joke

cw: 3k wc, female reader, reader goes to therapy, enemies to potential lovers, swearing, pining, you simply can't believe the same tsukki your best friend has told you about ends up being the biggest asshole you've ever met. thank you @tetsuskei for helping me with this one!!!

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Kenma’s pace is slow as he walks next to you, hands buried in the pockets of what is probably a very expensive jacket. He doesn’t seem fazed but you know he’s secretly pleased about the guy who stopped him right after getting off the subway, so pleased you had to gently pull him by the sleeve to remind him that it was getting late. The pout was there: no doubt, he would’ve loved to stay and spend the evening discussing fortnite strategies with a complete stranger who swore he didn’t miss a single one of his streams.

“Why are you coming anyway?”, he shoots you a glance from the corner of his eye, “you could’ve spared yourself this torture”.

“Tetsu insisted. I’m actually curious, I only ever met a few of your high school friends”, you lightly nudge his shoulder with yours. He pulls a face.

“You’d like Shoyo but he couldn’t make it. The amplified version of him will be there, though”.

“The amplified version?”, you chuckle.

“Yeah. You’ll see”.

“Stop pretending to be grumpy, I know you’re happy to see them again”.

His golden eyes find your fond smile and he scoffs. “Tetsu insisted”. 

“Whatever you say, Kenny”.

“Don’t call me that ever again”.

You stick your tongue out and Kenma rolls his eyes, turns his head the other way to hide a small smile. You’re actually happy you managed to form some sort of bond with him, somehow climb over the wall of paralizing shyness that has followed him like a shadow to his current quite popular, very successful days. Tetsu loves him dearly and so do you. Whether he sees you as a friend or as a presence that doesn’t necessarily bug him, isn’t really important. Kenma likes you enough to call to ask if you’d be down to head to the apartment together and gently take the bag containing the bottle of wine you insisted on bringing from your hand. That’s more than enough.

Tetsu’s apartment is in a fancy enough condominium, at walking distance from the Omotosando station. Aoto, the concierge, knows both you and Kenma by now and you bow to each other as soon as you walk through the carriage porch to enter the complex. Sometimes you still can’t believe the little kid with perpetually scraped knees who used to collect his ball from your backyard, toothy grin so big it took over his entire face, now has a house with heated floors and a freaking mist sauna.

A foreign, boisterous laugh echoes through the empty hallway the second you step out of the elevator and Kenma meets your astonished glance with a shrug. “Told you. Amplified”.

The door swings open before you have the chance to knock, your handsome, disheveled friend grinning so hard his dimples are showing. “Finally! Took you long enough!”, Tetsuro pulls you in a hug to tight you groan and a laugh rumbles in his chest at your playful attempts at pushing him back.

“Are you drunk already?”, Kenma gets inside with outstanding nonchalance, skilfully escaping the hand that threatens to ruffle his perfectly styled hair. 

“Of course not, we were waiting for you to get the party started”, you finally manage to escape his ironclad embrace but Kuroo simply refuses to let go and barely gives you the time to kick your shoes off before throwing an arm around your shoulders and quite literally pulling you inside.

There’s a small group of people crammed around the horigotatsu table in the living room. Despite his appetite for fanciness and expensive taste, Tetsu always preserved a sense of tradition that, to this day, brings him comfort. You remember the evenings spent at his grandparents’, all the dinners shared around that very same table.

“Everyone, please pay your respects to my second best friend in the entire world!”, he pushes your head down in a forced bow with a grin and you swat his hand away with a chuckle.

“Oh my god, it’s you! Finally!”, round, golden colored eyes that glimmer with sincere delight are suddenly in your line of vision, along with spiky grey hair and a muscular build that just screams pro-athlete.

“Hello!”, you smile, “I’m—”

“I know! Call me Kotaro!”, he grabs your hand to energetically shake it but you can tell he’s barely containing the urge to suffocate you in a hug. Oh. You chuckle as realization suddenly washes over you. Of course you know who he is, too.

“Hi, Kotaro. You’re the first celebrity I get to meet”.

He dramatically clutches his chest, astonished stare finding a very skeptical Kuroo who is looking at you with a frown.

“A celebrity. Oh, she’s wonderful. Where were you keeping her, Tetsuro? A celebrity. Keiji, did you hear that? She called me a celebrity! Can’t wait to tell Atsumu, he’s gonna hate it”, Bokuto grins so wide you can’t help but mirror his genuine joy, “come sit! Move over Tsukki, she’s sitting next to me”, he locks his arm with yours and you slip out of your best friend’s hold with ease and a giggle. That is until Kotaro frees your sightline and you freeze on the spot as soon as your eyes find those of the last person you’d expect to find there, casually snacking on a bowl of senbei. His hand stills mid air when your gaze meets his stoic one.

“What the hell”, he mutters, voice every bit as annoying as you recall. Somewhere on your forehead, a vein throbs.

“What the hell indeed”, you turn to look at Kuroo with an outraged grimace distorting your features, “you know him? As in he’s your friend?”.

“Who, Tsukki?”, Tetsuro cocks his head, “yeah, of course? I’m sure I mentioned him more than once”.

“That one’s Tsukki? The fun, talented, kind kohai from high school?!”, it’s clear that skepticism is oozing from every syllabe and Kuroo is taken aback, mouth opening and closing like a koi fish. 

“I was never his kohai”, the absolutely indifferent pitch makes your blood boil.

“I wasn’t asking you”.

“Hmm”, the hint of a smile teases his lips, “you’re being kinda rude. Again”.

“Okay, I’m honestly lost here”, Kuroo clears his throat but Bokuto lets out an amused laugh at complete odds with your suddenly sour mood.

“Let’s sit, so you can tell us all about the fascinating sparks that are flying here”, the wink he offers is met with a grimace.

“There are no sparks—”

“You haven’t met Keiji yet! Here, give me your coat, Tetsuro will take care of it”, you’re quite literally dragged to the table and then down on the floor, before you can protest or beg Kenma to sit next to you. For some foreign reason, Bokuto has you uncomfortably squeezing between him and the last person you’d want to sit next to who, for the record, is doing absolutely nothing to make room for you. Which, unfortunately, means that your leg is flush against his and your arm is dangerously close to be grazing the sleeve of his black shirt.

“This is Akaashi”, Kenma, sitting across from you, politely comes to the rescue and nods toward the one stranger you haven’t been introduced to yet.

“I’m sorry”, you duck your head with an apologetic smile, “nice to meet you. I promise I’m usually pleasant to be around”.

The little smile he tosses back supports you immensely in the grim task of ignoring the snort that comes from your left. “You wouldn’t be able to endure Tetsuro if you weren’t”.

“Yes, yes, that’s enough small talk”, Kuroo, hands free from your coat, arms occupied with more snacks and the wine you brought, flops down next to Kenma and narrows his eyes, “tell the story”.

“What story?”.

Tsukishima sighs, patience already running thin. “He’s asking about us. Not really the sharpest tool in the shed, are you?”.

“I see, so you’re just as much of a pain in the ass in your everyday life too. As expected”, you don’t even look at him as you accept the bowl of chips a frowning Tetsuro is offering. If Bokuto’s eyebrows could shoot higher, they’d be hanging on the ceiling by now.

“What happened?”, Kuroo is one snarky comeback away from imploding.

“She’s the reason why I couldn’t get my coffee this morning”, Tsukishima’s bored inflection is what prompts you to finally look at him. For a second, just a split second, you’re startled. By what, exactly? You’re not sure. He’s drinking from a can of beer so the pink on his cheeks was to be expected. What wasn’t expected is the speed at which his eyes dart to you in turn. Those glasses do an awful job at hiding just how big and brown they are. Are those golden specks? You’d have to get closer to find out but that would mean breathing in more of that masculine, woody cologne. Suddenly, you’re all too aware of how hot and sturdy his thigh feels against yours.

“Well, that’s an awfully long pause”, Bokuto snickers from your right and you flinch, pulling back so abruptly your back hits his chest.

Tsukishima offers another one of his enigmatic smirks.

“He’s the reason we’ve been kicked out of the coffee shop”, you grumble. The skin of your face feels on fire when you meet Kenma’s skeptical stare. You know him well enough to grasp that he’s clearly assuming something entirely different than what’s to assume.

“And that’s happened how?”, Akaashi’s gentle voice serves as an anchor you find yourself grabbing onto for dear life.

“I’ll tell you exactly how that happened”.

The place is busy and it’s your first time trying it out. The advice came directly from your therapist: trying something new opens up the possibility to find joy in something new. And that’s precisely why you’ve been staring at the list of hot beverages, cold beverages, drinks, cocktails, mocktails, teas, iced teas and desserts hung right behind the cashier.

“Have you decided?”, the woman is smiling but you can tell her eye is one second away from starting to twitch.

“Uh, not yet? I’m sorry, just a second”, your eyes keep frantically scanning the options over and over again but it’s like your brain is failing to register them, palms sweaty, self-awareness gnawing at your alarmed mind.

“Can you hurry up? Some of us can’t spend the day waiting in line”, the sharp, annoyed voice makes you jump and you turn around to apologize, tears practically teasing the corners of your eyes already, but you find a young man looking back at you with such an infuriating scowl that the apology dies on your tongue.

“Menu is the other way”, he points an annoyingly long finger toward the wall behind you, “just get a cinnamon vanilla latte with soy milk and caramel drizzle or something and let’s get going”.

The condescending, bordering mocking suggestion is what infuriates you the most and suddenly all the humiliation you were feeling leaves room for nothing but rage.

“Why don’t you learn how not to act like a primitive asshole?”.

“You have ten people who’ve been waiting for you to make up your mind for the past hour and I’m the asshole?”.

“I would be done by now if you hadn’t rudely interrupted me!”.

“Hey…”, the cashier attempts to chime in but your anxiety and frustration are getting the better of you and this stranger is just being so unnecessarily mean.

“And, for the record, that is so not my usual order!”.

His eyebrows furrow and a tiny crease appears between them, right above the bridge of his infuriatingly petite nose.

“I’m sorry if I came off the wrong way”, he balances the words carefully, with a seemingly sweet inflection “truth is, I couldn’t care less about your usual order. Just order anything before we all grow collectively old here”.

You let out a scoff with an incredulous smile. “You really are the biggest prick I’ve ever met”.

“I’m sorry, I’m gonna have to ask you both to leave”, the cashier interrupts the ridiculous quarrel and the humiliation is back in all its glory, the annoyed stares of all those standing in line suddenly burning through your body.

“I hope you’re not insinuating that any of this is even remotely my fault”, the stranger is visibly experiencing utter disbelief but really, you’re done. A quick bow to the cashier and a barely uttered apology to the strangers still waiting for their turn is all you manage to put together before heading out. Oh, the entire thing is going to become such a fun conversation to have with your therapist.

“Hope you’re happy, I only arrived in Tokyo half an hour ago and I’m already out of the best coffee in Ueno”, the voice, the literal stuff nightmares are made of, follows you outside and once again you are denied a very much needed crying sesh. Jesus, fuck this guy. Seriously, fuck him. So what if you took a little too long? Hasn’t he ever heard of distress? Fatigue? Just how familiar is he with the human emotional spectrum exactly?

“You may as well choke on your next coffee for all I care”, you direct him a saccharine smile and the way his jaw tenses can finally count as a small win.

“How civilized of you”.

“Hope you have a horrible day!”, you wave and turn around to march back to your neighborhood, to your favorite cafe, to the coffee order that hasn’t let you down once in the past ten years. Phone in hand, you’re already calling Tetsuro to tell him all about your horrible, horrible morning. Only to curse under your breath when, against all odds (because who the hell could he even be talking to this early?), you’re met with a busy tone.

“Wait, she’s the crazy coffee shop girl you were telling me about?”, Kuroo stares at his friend in complete shock and Tsukishima’s lips twitch.

“Obviously”.

Bokuto lets out a low whistle. “Wow. What a heated first encounter”.

“I feel like I couldn’t properly convey just how presumptuous he was”, you hope you have found an accomplice at least in Akaashi, who seems the only genuinely sane person in the room and yes, that’s including you firsthand.

“There’s no need, we’ve known him since high school”, he succeeds in drawing a smile and you’re grateful. You wish you were sitting next to him instead of the annoyingly-tall-even-when-seated dude who scoffs once more.

“I feel so welcome, thank god I accepted to take part in this reunion”, Tsukishima finishes his beer with a single, long sip.

“Of course you’re welcome, Kei!”, Bokuto leans over from behind your back to squeeze his friend’s shoulder, “you just need to hone your social skills some more!”.

“She gets nervous”, Kenma’s calm voice cuts through the conversation and, as it usually happens, all eyes turn to him in quiet surprise, “in unfamiliar situations, when she’s doing something different. She gets nervous”, he doesn’t look at you, he isn’t looking at anyone really. The dorayaki tray seems to be the only one deserving his undivided attention.

There’s a pause. Tetsuro’s stare softens when he locks eyes with you.

“Yeah, that’s true. Insecurity can be easily played off as aggressiveness, did you know?”, his signature smirk is back when his eyes shift to Tsukishima. The leg still pressing against yours gets suddenly stiff.

“Enough talking about me”, your chuckle sounds forced and Kenma looks up from the tray “I want to know all about high school and volleyball”, you avoid his gaze and refuse to meet Tetsuro’s, the giant smile tense at the corners directed at Bokuto and Akaashi only.

They indulge you. In fact, they all do, and soon enough your little dispute is forgotten and the atmosphere gets less tense. You decide to be the bigger person and, instead of pretending Tsukishima isn’t even there, you politely look at him when he talks and laugh if any playful banter rises between him and Kuroo. You don’t notice that Tsukki looks and listens too, when you’re deep in conversation with someone else or reply to Bokuto’s dumb never have I ever statements. He finds it odd that you two end up drinking almost the same amount, a list of seemingly stupid shared experiences that grows longer the more the game continues around the circle.

Tsukishima Kei doesn’t feel guilty, he’s just good at admitting to himself when he’s wrong. Not that anyone else needs to know, of course. The habit of being too quick to judge others has followed him ever since high school and it annoys him that, as an adult, he still doesn’t know better. Does he want to make this right because he’s not sure he’ll have the chance to do so again? Is the beer clouding his mind, making his body move on autopilot when he gets up shortly after you disappear into Kuroo’s kitchen? Either way, he’s there when you turn around with a tray of fresh mini sandwiches and you’re not immediately bolting by him and he thinks this would be a wonderful time for his big brain to put a few judicious words together.

But then you awkwardly shift your weight from one foot to the other and clear your throat. “I’m sorry about this morning. And for insinuating that you’re a caveman”, you shrink in yourself a little, head hanging lower.

“And for hoping I choke on my next coffee?”.

You snort out what almost sounds like a laugh. “Yeah, definitely. That was mean. But, honestly, you—”

“I was an asshole”, he calmly interrupts, the actual apology clawing at his throat to come out to no avail, “happens a lot, or so I’m told”.

When you finally look up from what you’re holding in your hands and your lips curl into a smile so sincere, Tsukishima almost smiles back. What the hell.

“Let’s chalk it up to us both having a bad morning. Deal?”.

He stares for a second too long, then gently offers “deal” and you leave the kitchen with a friendly nod, fully missing out on the opportunity to catch an amused twitch of the lips, honeyed gaze turning inexplicably soft.

[moonywritez6]

Mark Me (Reupload)

Character: Toji Fushiguro x Tattoo Artist Reader

Reader: Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, drug use, high sex, smut, violence, unprotected sex, blood, harsh language, pet names, Praise kink, Dacryphilia, Exhibitionism kink, Daddy kink, degradation, marking kink, Age gap (Reader is in 20s, Toji is 30), brat kink

Wc: 7,293

A/N: Hello my sweets! Unfortunately, I got locked out of my old blog account, so I had to make a new one! So, chances of you having seen this before are high as it's on my old account! (I am so sad about it honestly). But I am going through all my old accounts posts and reuploading them here! I hope you can still enjoy my works!

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Ding! 

The sound of the front door opening, indicating that a customer walked in, filled your ears, along with the quiet buzzing of the tattoo gun in your hand. "Oh! Welcome, do you have an appointment?" You hear your person at the front desk cheer, followed by muffled voices. Your eyes, which were once solely focused on the piece of art you had been skillfully engraving into the tender flesh of your current client, drift over to the small watch that rests on your wrist. "How's it looking baby?" Your client questions his eyes, looking back at you with a slight smirk, causing you to groan in disgust. This particular client of yours had been flirting with you since the day he walked into the shop, which at first didn't bother you as you were used to those occasional clients; however, this one was super persistent about it, always giving you a hard time with his tattoo design making you change things that he was once okay with into something else the next visit so that he could keep seeing you. 

"It looks fine, however, we're gonna have to cut this session short as it's almost closing time and I have one more client for the night." The man lets out a small grunt, not finding a problem with your words as it just meant he could see you again, much to your dismay. "You got it boss!" He laughed while tossing his shirt back on, following behind your smaller form as you walked towards the front of the store. "Ya know I always found all those piercings and tattoos of yours to be." The man started his usual flirting with you, always leading with the art that covered your body. This time, you tuned him out, your eyes traveling to the two figures seated in the waiting room area, one of them being very familiar. "Ichigo set this guy up with his next session for me, will ya?" You mumbled while snatching the last clipboard from the desk, your eyes scanning your next client's information. "Of course, boss right away!" Ichigo cheered brightly while quickly booking the man's next appointment. You didn't get many clients at your shop, at least not many rich ones, as you had built your place in a dangerous area where lots of criminals claimed to call their homes. 

It didn't bother you, of course, as you were already seen as a problem by many people due to your appearance, so you thought, why not make a profit when people will happily give you their money for the dumbest shit sometimes. "By the way, I see Mr. Playboy is back," Ichigo whispered into your ear, a playful smirk tugging on her lips as she went and pointed to what kind of tattoo the client wanted. You hummed, feeling your eye twitch as you read that same name. You found yourself tattooing on what seems to be hundreds of different women every few weeks. Toji. "This has to be his, what? Sixth girl this month?" Ichigo Scoffed before bidding your client goodbye as he shot you a slight wink, causing you to throw up in your mouth. "It's his seventh, actually." You sighed before pushing yourself off the counter as you called the two figures over. 

In front of you stood the familiar face of one Toji Fushiguro. Next to him was a girl not much older than you who desperately clung to the man's bicep, pressing her exposed cleavage against his bare muscle. "Okay, so who's getting the tattoo?" You questioned as if the answer wasn't as clear as day in your mind. You watch as the girl lazily raises her hand with a slight giggle as she makes goo-goo eyes up at Toji, who stares at you unimpressed with how long it had taken for you to see them. "That would be me~ I want it as a tramp stamp~" She sang, eying the tall male to see if he would give her the reaction she wanted. Toji grunts a lazy smirk, tugging at his lips as he tilts his head down at you, an all-knowing look in his eyes at what you must be thinking right now. "And this must be the lucky guy, huh?" You heard Ichigo laugh from behind the counter, earning her a slight glare from you. 

"Mhm! Isn't he so handsome?" She asked, squeezing him closer. You watch as Toji goes and wraps his arm around her waist, giving it a slight squeeze. "Think you can give her what she wants? Especially since you kept us for a bit?" Toji asked, giving you a smug look, knowing you hated doing these tattoos even more each time he brought in a new girl. "Follow me." You muttered, tossing the clipboard to the side. The two of them follow you towards the back, where you have all your equipment set up. "Let me just clean up really quick. My last client ran late, so it took a bit." The girl nodded in understanding; meanwhile, Toji just scoffed, scratching his head as he leaned on one leg. "You mean that scumbag was your client? Damn, how low have your standards become, Y/n?" He mocked while watching you sanitize your equipment and replace the ink. 

"Oh, shut it. He gives me money, so who am I to complain?" You muttered before glancing between Toji and the girl. "You should know what I mean after all." You added, causing the girl to frown, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. "Toji!" She cried, wanting the man to say something. Toji stayed silent, knowing your words were true as he did many things for many people, the girl next to him being one of his more frequent clients who paid him pretty well to go on dates and have sex. You just shrugged, taking Toji's silence as not wanting to get involved as you went and put your gloves on while carefully getting the stencil out. "Whatever, just lay down for me, cutie." You mumbled, a slight smirk forming on your lips at the girl's shocked expression, along with the tinge of pink that lightly coated her cheeks. 

Once she laid where you needed, you carefully took care of the area of skin she wanted the tattoo on as you set the stencil down. Toji hovered behind you, watching the placement, nodding in approval. "Looks good, baby~" He sang lazily, smirking, earning a giggle from the girl. You scoffed as you put your mask over your mouth and nose before turning the gun on. "Yeah, let's see how long it's gonna take." You muttered before getting to work. The sound of your tattoo gun and the girl's whines and cries fill the room as you carefully paint her lower back with the letters of Toji's name. 'Honestly, I'll never understand why so many girls get this.' You carefully wipe away some excess ink while glancing over at Toji, who stood leaning against one of your walls, eyes closed, probably thinking of other things he could be doing right now. 

'Especially when they know they're not the only girls in his life.' The girl suddenly jolts, causing you to pull away as you glance at her trembling form. You let out a small sigh, turning the gun off as you go and remove your gloves. The sudden disappearance of the buzzing causes Toji to open his eyes as he looks at you, a brow raised in curiosity. "Ya done already?" His tone sounded impressed with how your speed with these things has increased. You shake your head as you go and pull your mask down with a finger pointing to the girl who is lying on the table, still shaking. "I'm going to give her a break for about fifteen minutes, maybe twenty if she still needs time." You sighed before standing up to exit the room. 

"Ichigo, I'll be outside for a bit." You muttered to the girl, who responded with a pitched kay as you opened the front door to step outside. The nighttime breeze smacks you in the face, causing a relaxed moan to slip past your lips as you lean against your shop wall, reaching into your pocket to pull out a joint. You never smoked during your shifts or when you had clients; however, you had gotten so good at tattooing Toji's name on these girls that it didn't even matter if you were sober. You place the joint in your mouth before patting your pockets for your lighter. The bell to your shop rings, causing you to glance to see Toji standing in the doorway, lips curled up in a cocky smirk. 

"Oh? Is smoking while on the job allowed?" He teases, watching as you roll your eyes before returning to looking for your lighter. "Tch, I would be heading home right now smoking it anyways if it wasn't for you always bringing your girls to my damn shop last minute almost every fucking night." You growled, getting frustrated that you couldn't find the small device. Toji just scoffed, standing next to you as he leaned against the wall, pulling his lighter out and aiming it towards you. You hummed, nodding as you pressed the joint's tip to the flame, watching it light. "Thanks." You muttered, leaning against the wall. This wasn't the first time you and Toji had been in this position, as this happened with almost all the girls he brought over, one of them needing some break from the pain. Toji was the first to start conversing with you about who did your tattoos. He was impressed When you told him it was you or some friends of yours. Since then, the two of you found yourselves outside your shop, often talking about life and random things whenever you waited for the girls to feel better. 

You let out a puff of smoke, watching it disappear into the night sky. "How's she doing?" You asked, glancing at your watch to see how much time she still had for her break. "She'll be fine. Just give her the full twenty minutes." He muttered before going and plucking the joint from your lips, causing you to growl as you glared up at him. He just smirked, giving you a wink before hitting the joint himself. The two of you went back to saying nothing, a comfortable silence falling between the two of you as you passed the joint back and forth. You sneak a glance at Toji, taking in his well-built form, watching as the muscles in his neck slightly tense as he inhaled, how his bicep flexed every time he brought the joint to his lips. 

Yes, you found his muscular body attractive, and yes, you found Toji to be your idle type, but that wasn't what caused you to grow an interest in the man. What grabbed your heart were those piercing green eyes that held a mysterious dark hue over them as if hiding his true feelings. You don't know when you started feeling this attraction towards the man, but you knew that you would never give in or act on your lustful desires as you knew nothing would come of it. "Come on, don't take all of it, you jackass." You growled and jumped up to snatch the joint, which Toji had practically smoked all of. Toji chuckles as he leans his arm on your head, causing a vein to pop as your eye twitches in annoyance. "Oh, come on, Y/n baby~ You know I'll pay ya back." He cooed before snatching a strand of your hair between two of his calloused fingers. You ignored him, not minding that he was playing with your hair as you finished the joint before glancing at your watch. 

"Come on, lover boy." You tap Toji's chest with the palm of your hand as you walk by him to open your shop door. "Let's finish marking your latest victim." Toji just grinned at your words as he obediently followed behind you with a slight chuckle. "What? You want one too?" He joked, his eyes trailing down the back of your form, resting on your ass unbeknownst to you. You scoff, waving him off as you continue to make your way back to the girl. "As if! Keep dreaming, Toji!" You scoffed. 

Oh, he will.

__________

You stood outside your shop, a joint in your hand, as you quietly watched the night sky. It's been weeks since Toji has stopped by with another girl, making you wonder if he's finally found someone or if he's marked every single client he has. "Hey, baby~" A familiar voice calls, causing your eyes to drift over to the sound. To your dismay, it's that client you had finally finished giving the tattoo to who had been nonstop flirting with you. You internally cringe but keep your professional, laidback persona as you provide a superficial nod toward him with a half-assed smile on your lips. "Oh hey, it's you. What's up? Is there something wrong with the tattoo?" You asked, tilting your head at the man curiously. The man shakes his head with a cocky smirk as he leans his arm against the wall. His head rested in his palm as he looked down at you with a predatory gaze. 

"Oh, the tattoo is bitching, baby~ thanks again for such a good job on my body~" He cooed his body language, signaling that he was feeling pretty bold and wouldn't be taking any rejection today. You stared at him momentarily before letting out a small sigh as you carefully took the joint from your lips. 'What should I do? I sent Ichigo home cause we didn't have any more clients tonight, so no one is around to help me get out of this one.' You think a vein is popping on your temple. The man notices this and smirks, letting out a small whistle as he reaches his hand towards your face. "I noticed you've looked stressed and annoyed lately, baby~" You go to move away from his touch, which causes him to get annoyed as he suddenly grabs your chin, forcefully lifting your face to his. "Hey, now don't go being a bitch just cause you look like some trash whore always showing off so much skin. Be honest, you don't do it to show off those shit tattoos; you do it because you want men to see how easily fuckable you are." His voice was harsh, his ego probably not liking how you had tried to reject him. 

"Why don't you come home with me tonight and show me all those shit tattoos, baby~ I can paint them so pretty with my-!" The man's words abruptly cut off as you watched a fist collide with the side of his head, causing a giant dent in your shop's wall. "Toji!" A girl's voice cried out in horror. You slowly followed where the fist came from, your surprised eyes meeting Toji's enraged ones as he went and grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, lifting him off the ground. "Whose tattoos are you calling shit, big guy?" He growled, face inches from the man's now bloody one. "Or better yet…" You watched as Toji's jaw shook from how tight he was clenching, its veins popping out from his neck and face as he bared his teeth at the now-crying man. 

"Who the hell do you think you're touching and calling baby you motherfucker?" Your body shivered at how bloodthirsty Toji's tone was not expecting to see such a sight from the usually calm and laid-back man. "H-hey, man! I was trying to get laid! I didn't know the whore was yours!" That did it. Whatever self-control Toji had was instantly gone as he went and smashed the guy's face in blood, splattering all over himself and you in the crossfire. The girl Toji had come with, stood there horrified as she trembled, not knowing what to do. You quickly snapped out of shock as you grabbed Toji's arm. "Hey! Toji, that's enough! What's gotten into you?!" You yelled, trying to pull the bigger man away from the unconscious body. 

Toji's eyes shot at you, causing you to freeze as you felt your heart skip a beat at the feral look in his eyes as if he was a wild animal being torn away from his prey. When Toji realized it was you, he instantly calmed down, allowing you to feel the muscles in his arm relax as he went and dropped the guy to the ground. "Fuck." He hissed, running a hand through his messy hair as he looked from the guy to you to the girl he came with. "Give me that." He growled, snatching the joint you had forgotten all about. You watched him take a resounding hit off it before walking over to the girl. He appeared to be comforting her as he went and called her a cab. In the meantime, you dragged the unconscious guy into the alley next door, making sure he still had a pulse before heading back. When you got to the shop, you saw only Toji leaning up against the wall, a hand ruffling his hair as he let out a deep sigh, the joint hanging from his lips. 

"Toji." You called, getting the man's attention. You smiled as you carefully took the joint back, putting it between your lips. "I believe you still haven't paid me back for the last time I shared one with you." You joked, trying to ease the tense atmosphere. Toji looked down at you for a moment, a frown still on his face, before you saw the scar curl up as his facial features softened. "Is that any way to say thank you brat?" He scoffed. You hummed, scratching the back of your neck as you eyed the blood-stained sidewalk and the dent in your building. "Fix my wall and clean that blood. I'll call it even." Toji let out a gruff laugh, finding your response to the situation amusing. "So did you send her home?" You asked, addressing the fact the girl was no longer around. 

"Yeah, I apologized to her and said the next date was free." He sighed, annoyed that he had to waste his time for free on such an annoying girl. "How nice of you." You joked before stomping out the butt of the joint. Your eyes scanned Toji's hand, noticing the mix of his and the man's blood dripping onto the cold cement. With a sigh, you carefully take his hand, causing him to give you a confused look. "Come on, I'll clean you up." The two of you walk into the quiet shop as you go and sit Toji on one of the couches in the waiting room. He leans against the couch, spreading his legs as his arms rest on the back. "Where's your nosey assistant?" He muttered, taking note of the dramatic girl's absence. "I didn't have any more clients tonight, so I sent her home. Of course, I see you were planning on stopping by without even an appointment." You scolded while going through the first aid kit. 

"Hey, if it wasn't for me not making an appointment, who knows what that guy could've done to your dumbass." He scoffed before cursing as you went and pressed the rubbing alcohol against his cut knuckles without warning. "That's what you get. As for what happened, I could have handled it." Toji just scoffed, looking away from you with an annoyed look. Neither of you said anything as you silently treated his wounds before feeling yourself starting to get high. "Ah shit it's kicking in already." You muttered as you finished treating his hand. "They're all better. Next time don't waste your time getting hurt on a girl who does tattoos for your clients, and you occasionally smoke with." You scold, standing from the couch. Toji was still looking away, causing you to sigh as you went to put the first aid kit back. 

You looked in one of the mirrors to see blood on your face. You stare at it for a moment, the look in Toji's eyes filling your mind as you bite your lip, feeling your thighs rub against each other as the effects of the weed and the memory of the fight cause your body to start heating up. 'Fuck I should head home.' You mentally cursed as you walked out of the room. 

Toji sat on the couch, his blood still boiling as he remembered walking the familiar route to your small shop. Yeah, it was small and out of his way, but he always found himself at your shop for some reason. Maybe it was because there weren't many people that stopped by when he showed up, or perhaps he was starting to find your assistant Ichigo entertaining as she would sometimes trap him in the waiting room to talk about some random shit he never cared for. Or maybe he came to the shop so much because of-! Toji's thoughts stopped when he and the girl turned the corner, his eyes landing on your familiar form, trapped by an unfamiliar, much bigger one.

 "Hey now don't go being a bitch just cause you look like some trash whore always showing off so much skin. Be honest, you don't do it to show off those shit tattoos, you do it because you want men to see how easily fuckable you are."

Toji instantly felt his body seethe with rage as he listened to the guy's words, his gaze finally falling on how the man squeezed your pretty face between his disgusting hand. Before he knew it, his body was moving alone as he angrily stormed towards the two figures. 'Who the fuck does this fucker think he is touching what's mine.' He thinks, remembering all the times he would mess with your hair or brush up against your body, pretending that it had been an accident or that he wasn't paying much attention. Toji loved it when he would poke your cheeks, feeling the squishy skin against his rough finger and how your eye would twitch each time, finding it adorable. As Toji reached the two of you, he heard the man's following words ring through his ears like a siren. 

"Why don't you come home with me tonight and show me all those shit tattoos, baby~ I can paint them so pretty with my-!" All Toji could see was red as his fist collided with the man's face. He watched as the man slid to the ground, face bleeding from Toji's fist breaking the skin. Without hesitation, Toji picked the guy up, feeling so enraged that he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. "Who the hell do you think you're touching and calling baby you motherfucker?" The words left his lips, but in his mind, there were so many things he never got to say, especially when the man went and called you a whore. Toji didn't know how many times his fist collided with the guy's face; the only thing he could hear was the loud ringing in his ears as he clenched his teeth, eyes feeling like he was about to break every blood vessel they had. 

Toji thinks back to one of the times the two of you sat outside. He had asked you about all your tattoos, questioning who did them. When you answered that it was mostly work you did, he remembers being impressed at how well the artwork came out and how proud you looked when you recalled all the time and effort you put into each one. "It's something I love to do…and I want to keep adding more and more art to my body because it's something I really love!" You cheered with the brightest smile Toji had ever seen across your face, a happy blush tinting your skin as your eyes sparkled with pure joy. Toji remembers feeling his chest flutter at the sight. 'How fucking dare this scumbag say they're shit!' Toji's blood boils as he feels his chest tighten in anger. 

 'Don't fucking touch her! She's mine…Mine. Mine. Mine!' The thoughts ran wild in Toji's head. A sudden grip on his arm causes Toji to shoot his eyes to the side, ready to kill whoever got in his way. "Hey! Toji, that's enough! What's gotten into you?!" Until it was your face that slowly cleared the red that had drenched his vision. You stood there with your small arms wrapped around his giant one, eyes filled with worry. Toji felt his entire body relax as he took in your expression, noting the tiniest glint of tears that lined your eyes, which he always wanted to see crying under him. 'Who are you making that face for, Y/n? Are you worried about this fucking scumbag? Or that useless bitch crying in the back?' After that, Toji only thought of you, not processing anything else that happened. 

'Will you worry for me? Will you cry for me again? I only want you to think of me.' 

Toji sat on the couch staring at the ceiling as he felt himself getting high from the joint, his body relaxing, allowing a small moan to leave his lips as he continued to picture your worried, tearful expression, wanting to see it again as he started to imagine you under his body eyes leaking tears as you reached your arms up for him while crying his name like you did earlier to get him off the guy. "Fuck." Toji curses, feeling himself start to get hard as he crosses his legs when he hears your footsteps approaching. "I got some of that guy's blood on my face." You grumbled as you went to the front door, carefully turning the open sign off. 

Toji watched as you tried to wipe the scumbag's dried blood off your cheek. As you stood there, blood staining your skin, Toji couldn't help himself as he bit his lip, letting out a low growl before standing up. Unknowingly to you, you continued to try and get the blood off your cheek while staring at your reflection from the door. "Hey, Toji, I'm about to head home. Are you going to be!" Your words stop as you feel rough hands gently grab your hips, pulling them back as your ass feels something poke and slide against it. You stand there stiff as a giant blush slowly makes its way to your cheeks as you slowly look up at the door's reflection. Toji stands there, his eyes narrowed, a slight frown on his face as he goes and lightly grinds against your ass, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hips. "T-Toji?!" You cried, shocked and embarrassed, as anyone who walked by the shop would be able to see the inappropriate scene unfolding. "Let me see it." Toji mumbled, his voice an octave lower, causing a shiver to run through you as you nervously looked back at him. "C-come again?" You asked, watching as Toji scowled, his brows knitting as he went and grabbed your face, turning your cheek towards him. "Fuck that scumbag's pathetic blood did get on you." He growled, his fingers twitching. 

You whined, feeling your upper body press against the cold glass as you placed your palms against it for support. Toji's hand that still held your hip tightened as he released your face, causing you to look away embarrassed as you felt the familiar warmth between your legs quickly forming from the constant grinding. "Y/n look at me." Toji commanded as he licked his thumb, ensuring it was coated in his saliva. You do as told, slightly turning your cheek towards him. You cringe when he presses the wet digit against your heated flesh, making sure to rub all that scumbag blood away. "Y/n, from now on, I want you to keep this in mind." He growled before roughly shooting his hips forward, causing a small gasp to escape your lips as you felt your chest rub up and down against the cold glass. 

'Fuck, this is bad...I didn't wear a bra today.' You thought, feeling your nipples poke out from your top, thanks to the mix of friction and the cold. "No scumbag is allowed to touch you, got that?" Toji growled as he pressed his body against yours, his giant size trapping you against the door. You can only whimper, your eyes slowly clouding with lust as you look into the reflection. Your eyes locked with Toji's as he smirked, sliding his hands up your sides and under your shirt, causing you to let out a small cry. Toji stiffens when he notices the lack of a bra before a giant smirk crosses his face as he goes and bites at your ear. "No bra today, naughty girl~?" He purred his rough hands, groping your breasts as he skillfully took your perked buds between his rough fingers, pinching and pulling them as if they were some instrument, loving each noise he pulled from your precious lips. 

"Fuck baby, that's it…come on, keep making noises for me." Toji moans as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, feeling his erection getting more prominent as his mind becomes slightly clouded from the weed. "T-Toji, stop…what if someone comes by?" You whined in protest as you tried to push off from the glass door. Your actions cause you to grind into Toji, earning a rough grunt as he sinks his teeth into your neck. "A-ah Tojiiiii~" You whined body shivering as his teeth lightly pierce your sensitive flesh, a bit of drool escaping the corner of your mouth as you relish in the slight pain. Toji hums at this as he lightly sucks on the spot pulling away with a small pop as he grins his fingers roughly pulling at your nipples, causing your eyes to widen as you arch your back. “Is my Babygirl a fucking masochist? Do you like it when I pull on your nipples~?" Toji coos while leaving sloppy kisses up and down your neck, making sure he leaves as many marks as possible. "Sooooo sensitive, haha~" He mocked, feeling your body tremble in his grip. "I-It's cause of the weed…. MMH!" You slap a hand to your mouth as Toji goes and slides his hand down to your crotch, roughly cupping it from your shorts. 

"T-Toji, please, someone will see…ah… i-i'll be ruined." You cried between moans. Toji growled, not liking that you thought of others when he was groping your body. "Tch." He clicked his tongue as he pinched your nipples as punishment, causing your knees to buckle. Thankfully, Toji had quick reflexes as he went and wrapped an arm around your midsection, making sure to hold your weak body up, his muscles flexing. "Who the fuck cares? Do you think you can think of others while I'm right here? What if I want them to see you like this, huh?" Suddenly, you feel your shorts get pulled down, exposing your wet panties to anyone who was to walk by. Toji glanced at you in the reflection, watching as tears of embarrassment filled your eyes, causing his chest to fill with pleasure as he loved seeing you so vulnerable. 

"What do you think that scumbag will return and see you like this baby? All wet and messy for the guy who beat him unconscious?" Toji's words cause you to moan as you recall the look in his eyes from the fight again, causing your eyes to roll into the back of your head. "Yeah? Does thinking about that get you turned on, baby? It's turning me on too. You can feel it. Right." He growls as he grinds into you faster while sliding his hand up your neck to tilt your head back. "Fuck Y/n, you look so fucking hot like this…" You whine, your mouth opening as you look up at him with lustful eyes, drool falling from your chin. Toji growls as his grip on your neck tightens before smashing his lips against yours in a heated, messy kiss. You whine, going and grabbing a fist full of his hair as he shoves his tongue around your wet cavern, wanting to taste every inch of your flavor. He moans into the kiss, pulling away with a few strings of saliva still connecting the two of you as he looks at you with dark eyes. 

"Open your mouth." He commands. "I wanna see you stick out that pretty tongue." You feel his fingers dance around your neck as you obediently do as you're told, making sure the wet muscle stretches out as far as possible. "That's a good fucking girl." Toji groans as he spits into your mouth, his dick twitching as he watches the glob slide down your tongue and into your mouth. "Swallow it, princess…let me see you swallow daddy's spit like a good slut." He groaned, watching you close your mouth, his hand feeling your throat expand as you swallow. "Fuck…Come on." He growled, pulling away from you roughly, picking you up as he tossed you over his shoulder. You let out a surprised squeal as you gripped the back of his shirt, causing him to chuckle as he went and smacked your ass. 

"God, you're so fucking sexy baby." He purred as he walked back to your station, carefully placing you on the chair. "You know how often I've wanted to fuck your dirty ass in this chair?" He growled, pressing his fingers against your soaked panties, causing you to moan as you tilt your head. "W-why my chair?" You sighed, finding that Toji fantasized about you sexy as you tried to rub your thighs together. Toji scowls at this as he roughly spreads your legs apart, pressing his fingers deeper against your wet panties, causing you to gasp. "Don't close your legs, princess…you better keep them spread for Daddy or else." He warns as he goes and sits himself between your legs. You watch through lidded eyes as he lifts one of your legs, pressing kisses up and down your inner thigh, leaving the occasional bite mark, shivering each time you cringe and squirm in his grasp. 

"Now be a good girl for me, Y/n." He whispers as he slides your panties off his breath, stopping as he watches a string of your slick connecting your needy hole and the useless piece of fabric. "Fucking hell, brat." He growled before ripping the material off as he wasted no time in consuming your sweet juices, a deep growl escaping his throat as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Toji mentally curses to himself as he swears, you're one of the best things he's ever tasted, wanting to eat you out for hours as he slides his thumb down over your clit, the rough pad aggressively assaulting the bundle of nerves. You let out multiple moans and curses as you arch your back, your hands gripping the armrests of the chair as Toji eats you like a starved animal. "Tojiiiiii~ mmh So fucking good~" You cry out as you weakly grab a fist full of his hair. Toji grunts his tongue, sliding up and down your folds before he plunges the slick-covered muscle into your hole. 

"Fuckfuckfuck!" You cry, your legs tensing as you push Toji's face deeper into your dripping pussy; you feel your orgasm rush through you, sending waves of pleasure throughout your entire body. Toji growls as he makes sure to lap it all up, his tongue greedily sucking it into his mouth as he gulps your sweet juices down, pulling away from your needy hole, his face dripping with your cum. "Did my baby girl cum just from my tongue~?" He purred, his fingers sliding up and down your slick folds. You watched with hooded eyes as Toji watched some of your juices drip to the ground, some landing on the chair, causing him to grunt. "Come on, baby again…you can cum for daddy again, right?" He growled, leaning over your body as he pressed rough kisses along your neck, one of his fingers sliding into your needy hole. 

"Mmmmmm!" You moan loudly, your walls clenching around the rough digit as he presses it against the squishy flesh. "That's right, baby if you can cum for me, Daddy will reward you." He chuckles, watching your pleasured expression. "So, fucking pretty." He mumbled before sucking one of your breasts into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as he lightly bites and pulls, causing tears to roll down your cheeks. "T-Toji don't! H-hurts! EEEEEK!" You cried, feeling the man pull harder as he looked up at you with narrowed eyes. "That's not what I want you to call me princess." He growled before leaving a few apologetic licks to the irritated bud. You whine, looking away, too embarrassed to look him in the eye, when you feel another finger being inserted into you, causing your hips to buck up. "Fuuuuuuuck~" You moaned, earning a satisfied hum from Toji, who decided to mercilessly pump his fingers in and out of your puffy pussy, licking his lips as he stared down at you with a cocky grin. 

"Come on baby say it! Say my name and I'll make you cum~" Toji went and licked your bottom lip, gently biting the tender flesh as you whined, eyes rolling back again. “D-daddy…ah…I wanna cum please." You cried while shielding your eyes from his gaze. This didn't sit well with Toji as he went and pulled his fingers out, causing you to whimper at the loss as you felt your walls clench around nothing. You let out a loud gasp followed by a pathetic cry as Toji slapped your pussy, eyes narrowed. "Y/n, you're being such a brat." He growled, pinning your arms above your head with a tight grip. You winced, letting out more whimpers as you looked at him with a pout. "Stop being a brat and I'll reward you now instead of later~" He whispered, licking the lobe of your ear, causing you to shiver as you felt yourself needing more. 

You bite your lip, eyes wide, watching Toji free his erection from his pants. You felt yourself starting to drool as you watched his sensitive tip pulse as precum oozed. Toji smirked, his ego growing as he watched you go dumb at the sight of his cock. "That's right, baby~ If you beg me for it, I'll fill your needy pussy as much as you want~" You watched as he slid the tip up and down your folds teasingly, causing you to whine as you tried to free your wrists from his grip. "Toji!" You cry, not liking how he was teasing you so much. "Uh uh…." He tuts as he smacks your pussy twice with his rough hand, causing you to arch your back, tears falling. He chuckles, leaning to lick the tears up while nibbling on your jaw. "Come on, princess…say it. Beg me." He growls while pumping his twitching cock. 

You bite your lip as you look up at him. "P-Please fuck me D-daddy." You beg with the most pathetic look Toji has ever seen. Before anything else can happen, Toji roughly thrusts into you, causing you to arch your back as you toss your head back from the intense feeling. "That's my good girl! Fuck you're such a good girl for me Y/n! Your pussy is so tight it makes me want to ruin you." He growls as his hips press against you. "Fuck! Daddy too deep! Too deep daddy!" You cry Toji just grins as he continues to pound into your abused hole, loving how fucked out your expression is. "Fuck baby, you look so dumb on Daddy's cock." He releases your hands as he tosses your legs over his shoulders, guiding your hands to his biceps. "You wanted to know why I always wanted to fuck you in this chair, right?" He growled as he pressed his forehead against yours, scanning your every expression with those eyes of his that you loved so much. 

"It's because every time one of those fucking scumbags comes in here to get a tattoo while their filthy eyes scan your hot body…fuck… they're going to be sitting in this chair embedded with all your slutty juices from being fucked by your best customer." He laughs at the thought while relishing as he watches your eyes go back into your skull as your walls clamp down around him. "Fuck baby, are you gonna cum for me?" He growls, grabbing your wrist and bringing it to his face, kissing each tattoo that graced your skin. "So, fucking beautiful. You look so fucking sexy with these tattoos, baby. That fucking scumbag didn't know what he was saying." He moaned out, his thrusts becoming sloppy. You moan, your nails digging into the flesh of Toji's biceps. 

"Daddy~ am I really that pretty~?" You whine, wanting to hear his praise again. Toji smirks as he presses his lips to yours in a passionate kiss while cupping your cheeks in his hands, his thumbs rubbing your tear-stained cheeks. "The prettiest baby. You're so fucking sexy crying under me, covered in your art. Fuck baby, let me mark you~ I want everyone to see you, mine." He growls as he feels himself reaching his limit, gritting his teeth. You moan as you feel your orgasm quickly approaching. "Mmmh~ I won't be labeled like one of your whores." You admit causing Toji to scoff as he bites at your lip, his lustful green eyes locking with yours as he presses a deep kiss to your lips letting out a deep moan. "You're nothing like them, baby; ~ You're only mine~ I'll make you a new mark, yeah? Would you like that princess?" He leaves messy kisses across your face while gritting his teeth. "Daddy will give you a mark that only you can have~" He moans before giving you one last harsh thrust, his cum spraying all over your walls as he roughly bites into your shoulder to muffle his noises. 

The two of you stay still for a moment, both recovering from your highs as Toji caresses your body, his hands admiring each tattoo he knows you worked hard on. "Yeah…I know what I'm going to do." He cooed, slowly pulling out from you and kissing your cheek as you whined from the sudden loss, causing you to feel empty. Toji hummed as he watched his cum spill from your messy hole, pride filling him as he reached for your tattoo gun, carefully turning it on as he gave you a sadistic smirk. 

"Be a good girl for Daddy one more time tonight, baby~" 

_______

Ding! 

Your eyes slowly travel to the front door, where you see Toji standing with a new girl by his side. Ichigo giggles as she watches you lead them to the back and start tattooing the usual name onto whatever body part she's chosen. As you sit there carefully tattooing the girl, Toji stands behind you, his eyes landing on the tattoo, still healing on your shoulder. The detailed bite mark slightly starts to peel from the healing skin, causing Toji's eyes to narrow as he walks closer to you. "How's it looking Toji~?" The girl questioned with a giggle. Your body stiffens as Toji gently cups your shoulder, running his thumb across the healing tattoo. His eyes fill with lust as he licks his lips, noticing the deep blush on your cheeks. 

"Oh yeah… it's looking perfect baby~"

[sourw0lfs]

dance with the devil - part six

I've decided this will eventually be available on AO3, but I want to get through some major plots points for everyone following along here before I have to spoil them with AO3's tagging system.

Words: 525 | Rating: E (mostly parts 1 & 2, but also future parts) | CW: dead bodies, Eddie is having a bad time

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || part eleven || part twelve

Once the front door of the apartment closes, Eddie spends the first few minutes by himself just staring at it. He isn't sure exactly what he expected when Joyce gave him this assignment, but he's pretty sure what he got isn't even near the list. Having to help cover up a murder definitely isn't on the list. And now that he's done that, Eddie isn't even sure that's what he was supposed to do. The only instructions Joyce gave him before sending him on his way was take care of Steve Harrington. No details, no helpful hint or clues. Nothing but the world's vaguest instruction and a stern warning not to fuck it up.

Eddie's eyes wander to the body still in the middle of the floor and he grimaces slightly. "Guess it's just you and me, buddy," he tells the man as he pulls the fourth angelic miracle of the hour to cover up the murder even further. A pool of ochre colored vomit appears next to the body. Hopefully it's enough to throw off any suspicion of foul play, because it's all Eddie's got left. He's only even had the ability to do things like that for a handful of hours at this point. He probably shouldn't be testing their limit. Or cleaning blood off people with them, but what else was he supposed to do? He can't help a guy that gets slapped with a murder charge five minutes into his assignment.

Sighing and taking one last look around the apartment for anything he missed, Eddie finally lets himself go after Steve. There's a chance it's been long enough for him to have the breakdown he was clearly teetering on the edge of. Or maybe he's actually fine and Eddie's just assisted a psychopath or something. That'll look great on his soul's record. All it takes is a blink for him to find out.

And yeah, maybe he should stop with the magic for now, considering the dangerous wobble to his landing once he let's it guide him back to his charge. And maybe he should have made sure Steve was alone before teleporting to him, because a shrill, frantic female voice is the last thing he needs when his head is already kind of spinning. "Holy shit! Where did you come from?"

Blinking hard to clear his vision, Eddie looks in the direction of the voice. He sees Steve first, looking just as frazzled as he had when he’d stormed out before, but now there’s a girl, too. “You want the long answer or the short answer?” he asks, lips already spreading into a grin to hide his discomfort. “Because short is some guy’s apartment and long is, well, a long story.”

The girl looks at Eddie for a moment longer before glancing at Steve, seeming to have a full conversation with him with just their eyes, before they move back to Eddie again. “Long,” she replies with a smirk of her own. “And it better include how the hell you just popped up in my apartment out of nowhere.”

Grimacing, Eddie takes a deep breath and launches into his story.

Did a quick little Google about why some people might not be showing up, so if you're down below and your tag didn't work, check to see if your blog is searchable in your settings! If it's not, I can't tag you.

If you want added to the list, let me know!

tags: @chaosgremlinmunson @soaringornithopter @hbyrde36 @shares-a-vest @dreamwatch @quevadilla @tboyeddie @penny00dreadful @momotonescreaming @stevesbipanic @dawners @steddiejudas @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @estrellami-1 @vthx @lolawonsstuff @gleek4twd @littlebluejane @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lawrencebshaggoth @sadisticaltarts @queenie-ofthe-void @r0binscript @anaibis @hairdressersdoitwithstyle

[keigh0e]

Friendzone ♥ Bakugo Katsuki

Prompt: It wasn’t just a one off for me; it was me hoping you’d see the connection

Word Count: 3.6k

Triggers: No spice, just fluff, some explosive behavior and naughty words

Author Note: Hi guys! This is my first ever post on this blog, I’d really appreciate some feedback. I’d also love it if you sent me some requests, check out this pinned post to see what anime’s I write for and find a very big prompt list

This is an unedited piece so apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes

Being Bakugo’s longest friend comes with its own perks, at least in your eyes.

You and Bakugo had existed together for as long as you can remember, your mother was best friends with his and they’d ended up getting pregnant around the same time which meant you went through school together. You followed one another to UA as well, and there was no doubt you’d start a Hero agency together, or at least share the same building… Maybe just the same street, depending on how overbearing Bakugo is with you.

You and him were petals flying in the same gust of wind, there was no questioning it, you were simply together.

That didn’t mean you avoided his wrath, you probably got it more than anyone actually, that was only because he knew you could handle it and even match against him.

But you also got all of his softness, it wasn’t as loud as his rage and it made itself apparent in ways most people missed, but not you, you were Bakugo’s best friend, your soul attuned to his.

His quiet softness appeared when he always rushed ahead of you to open a door for you, and when he’d stop mid sentence and kneel down to take care of your undone shoelace, or when he’d always step closer to you and wrap his arm around your shoulders because a stranger had gotten too close to you (or Mineta, but Bakugo normally kicked the little perv away before he got the chance to get too close to you).

There was only one time his softness became loud and that was at night.

You’d taken the UA move into the dorms as bravely as you could, but after a week you were homesick. The longest you’d ever stayed away from your parents was when you had a sleepover at Bakugo’s, that was usually only for one or two nights, plus, it was only a trip down the road.

You struggled with falling asleep and it didn’t take long for Bakugo to notice the change in you. The same day he finally clocked on to the bags under your eyes and the invisible weight slumping your shoulders, he snuck into your room that night.

As he got into your bed you asked what he was doing and he respectfully told you to ‘shut your face’. The next thing you knew, he’d wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you onto his chest, then his hand was running through your hair and sleep came so easily it swept you as easily as he had swept you into his arms. He hadn’t cured your homesickness, he’d done something much better than that, he’d given you a new place to call home.

That was also the night when the lines between friendship and something more started to get blurry. He was still your best friend, still protective and caring, still a pain in the arse. But suddenly, his hand always found its way into yours, his arm always around your shoulder even when no one else was around. And every single night, without fail, he came to your dorm room and snuggled up with you, petting your head before falling asleep.

You did try speaking to him about it once, but it didn’t go very well.

A month had gone by of him sleeping in your dorm room. Once it got to the weekend, you and Bakugo went for your routine coffee which you treated yourselves to every Saturday as a ‘well done’ for making it through another week of high school and surviving all the villian attacks. 

You got a caramel latte while he went for a black coffee, after getting your drinks Bakugo walked you over to a table with his hand on your back and pulled out your chair before sitting down.

“So,” you began, and then you stumbled on what to say so you just blew on your latte to cool it down.

It had never been like this with Bakugo before, so stilted and awkward. He seemed to be noticing the tension as well as he stared down at you with a raised brow. “So?”

“So…” You tried to start again, tried to push through your awkwardness. “Are sleepovers a regular thing now?”

His whole body tensed, but that was the only sigh he gave that your question had affected him. “Yeah, that a problem?”

Yes, you wanted to say.

Yes, it was a big problem, because even after a month you got excited whenever it got to night time and your heart fluttered every single time he wrapped you up in his arms and pulled you so tightly against his body, as if to say ‘you are mine, and you’re not going anywhere’. You were 90% sure those weren’t feelings friends were meant to have for one another.

But, at the same time, the thought of losing that, losing him, was too painful.

You shook your head. “No, not a problem.”

“Then stop acting weird, you’re freaking me out,” he snapped, no real bite to his words. There never was.

That was that. You and Bakugo were still best friends, still hung out, still argued and every night, no matter what kind of day you’d had, you cuddled up together and fell asleep.

It became the new norm, as did living with your brewing emotions.

Until you and the gang had all decided to play a game together one night.

You and Bakugo could have only lasted so long, one of you would have broken eventually, you were just surprised at who broke first.

♥♥♥

You laughed along with Kirishima as Denki did his best opera impression, the noise filling up every crevice in the room and making you cringe to the point your teeth were grinding together.

On your other side was Bakugo, one hand covering his ear, the other resting on your bicep as his arm wrapped around your shoulder. 

“Will you shut up already?!” He yelled. Whilst you’d been coping with Denki’s singing, you did have to lean away from your friends as he yelled directly in your ear. Once he finished, he sent you an apologetic look and then used the arm around your shoulder to pull you closer.

“I caaaaaan’t!” Kaminari sang with a dramatic swing of his hands, “I was daared too serenade the ever-so-lovely Jiroooooooooouuuuuu.”

“She also wants you to shut up, moron,” Jirou hissed. Her words made it out like she was angry, but the blush on her cheeks and the fact she couldn’t look Kaminari in the eyes made you think she was feeling something else other than anger. Though, you may have just been projecting. 

“Fine,” Kaminari huffed, arms flopping down at his side as he finished his performance. He gave you and your friends the gift of perfectly serene silence, for all of three seconds before he straightened up and pointed a finger directly at Bakugo. “As it’s now my turn, I choose you, Bakugo, to be my next victim.” 

The hothead smirked, and you hated the way your stomach flipped at the sight of it. “I’m no one's victim, do your worst Sparky.”

The night had escalated after Mina had proposed a game of ‘truth or dare’, but you had an awful feeling stirring in your stomach when you saw the devious glint in Kaminari’s eye. You knew whatever Bakugo got given, he had too much pride to bow out.

“Truth or dare,” Kaminari asked.

“Stupid question, dare,” Bakugo replied.

“I dare you to kiss Y/N.”

You were the first to move, before Kaminari had even finished his sentence, you were up on your feet, putting space between you and Bakugo. “No, no, no,” you laughed, noticing it sounded more strained than joyful. “Absolutely not.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to?” Mina asks, her tone teasing. You’d been asked a million and one times if there was something more between you and Bakugo by your fellow students. It looks like no matter how many times you say no, they just don’t believe you.

“Yes, I’m absolutely sure,” you gruffed, doing your best Bakugo impression as you scowled over at Mina.

You take another step back as Bakugo stands up turning to face you, that usual frown playing on his lips and a surprising amount of determination in his eyes.

You’d seen that look before. The day he decided you were both becoming heroes, the day you decided to go to UA. That look only ever appeared whenever he decided something monumental and life changing. Normally you were filled with excitement when you saw that look in his eyes. Not on that night.

“What are you doing?” You asked whilst taking another step back. It became a new game for you and Bakugo, he took a step forward and you took a step back. Unfortunately, the wall behind you was closer than you realised and the next thing you knew, Bakugo was standing right there, centimeters from your face.

You’ve stood that close before, plenty of times, but never before had you been so aware of his body, of the heat emanating from him. When you looked into his eyes, you saw them solely focused on your lips.

He wanted to kiss you, wanted to break that line between friends and something more.

Is that what you wanted? You weren’t sure and Bakugo wasn’t giving you much choice as he grabbed your face and pulled your lips towards his, the momentum slamming the two of you together.

It started rash and rough, which wasn’t all that much of a surprise as this was Bakugo you were kissing. But then it hit you, the most achingly beautiful thing about every moment you’ve spent with Bakugo, his quiet softness.

The way he moved his lips against yours, guiding you rather than demanding you. It had you melting against him, your hands searching out his chest to relax on, your body leaning on his for support.

His own hands had fallen to your neck, his palm resting on your pulse point while his thumb stroked encouragingly against your jaw, gently moving the angle of your face so that he could explore your mouth further.

You would have given up a lot in that moment if it meant you could stay there in that embrace. Screw the line, it was boring. This, Bakugo’s lips, were exciting and awe-inspiring. He was everything, he was your everything.

“Alright kids, time for bed,” Aizawa appeared out of nowhere, or at least you hoped he had. If he’d watched you fall apart in Bakugo’s arms the way you just did, you weren’t sure how you’d face him in your next class.

You were meant to be a superhero, a badass, but when Bakugo pulled away from you, your lips tried to follow him and a whimper escaped before you could stop it.

You watched him take in your expression, you weren’t in control of it, too taken by how good it had felt to kiss your est friend and how shocked you were by how much you wanted to do it again. At best, you imagined there was a hazy and dim look in your eyes.

That determined look was still fiery in his eyes as he straightened you up so you weren’t leaning completely on his body. Then with a slight nod of his head and one more glance into your eyes, he said the very last thing you expected: “Talk to you tomorrow.”

You blinked at his retreating figure, so many questions floating through your mind as you watched him meander his way to the boys dorm rooms.

‘Talk to you tomorrow’? What did that mean? Surely it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to come to your room later? Right?

♥♥♥

That bastard wasn’t coming to your room. It would be the first night in months that you didn’t have him, and he’d decided it needed to be after he kissed you. He got you hooked and then took away your addiction.

Well screw him. He didn’t get to just do that, not to you.

There was a reason you were best friends for that long, because you could be just as explosive as him when you wanted to be.

The fact that you needed to sneak to his room ruined your ire a little bit, especially when you had to gently tap on his door when what you really wanted to do was knock the damn thing off of its hinges.

A few moments later a tired looking Bakugo appeared. It was well after ten O’clock at night so it didn’t surprise you to see a sleepy expression on your best friend, he was very strict about his sleeping routine and the conditions that he needed when sleeping. You didn’t mind most of the time because it just helped you fall asleep as well.

One rule you’d both always followed was to never go to sleep angry with one another, it stopped you from being able to fall asleep quickly, the anxious thoughts keeping you awake, and Bakugo obviously wouldn’t stand for that when his beauty sleep was much more important..

“What are you doing here Y/N?”

Not bothering to respond, you pushed past Bakugo, earning no resistance from your best friend who often let you have your way. Up until your kiss, you hadn’t though much about why.

“It’s bed time.” You simply answered, shuffling onto Bakugo’s bed and settling yourself on the side furthest from the door. That was Bakugo’s rule, not yours. He wanted to be close to the door in case someone tried to break in and he needed to protect you, when he’d confessed that to you, you’d just rolled your eyes at him.

He continued eyeing you as you moved the comforter over your knees, you met his stare head on, refusing to back down. “Exactly, both of us should be asleep, not knocking on my door.”

“Well I wouldn’t have to knock on your door if you’d come to my room, you know, like every other night,” you sassed back.

He averted his eyes from yours, something had flashed in them though before he’d turned away. Was it hurt? Or shame? “Well I guess things have changed now.”

“And that’s my fault?” It certainly felt like it was. You were the one losing your best friend, even though he’d been the one who’d kissed you. It was unfair, you’d been safely balancing on the line for years, not reacting at all to the way he’d make you feel sometimes. But now he was messing it all up!

He scoffed again at your words, just fuelling your rage. “Did I say it was?!”

“You kissed me Bakugo, then you just walked away and told me you’d speak to me tomorrow? I’ve been your best friend since the day I was born, I deserve better than that.” You were getting so passionate you’d started speaking with your hands, throwing your arms out and slamming your hands against your chest. 

Your former best friend (at least for now) took several moments to take in your words, then he started walking over and you prepared yourself to get manhandled. Instead, he flumped down on his side of the bed, still not looking at you. “You’re right.”

“No, you shut up! Wait, what? I’m right?” He said you were right? Those were rare words form your best friend, you’d totally been prepared to have a screaming match with him, thats how your arguments usually went. You weren’t sure if this was some new tactic to try win arguments with you, so you chose to stick with being defensive. “Yeah, I am right! Glad we’re in agreement.”

Finally he looked at you. “Will you quieten down? Someone will hear you’re in here.” Those his words were aggressive, there was nothing on his expression that showed he was angry with you. He looked upset more than anything else. For some people it might have been hard to tell the difference, but you read his every feature like it was your favourite book. 

So he wasn’t angry with you. Anger would make more sense than that upset expression on his face. You couldn’t figure out a reason for why he’d be upset, unless the kiss had been that bad? No, you realised, if it was bad then you definitely would have known, even if Bakugo didn’t tell you, you’d have been able to read it from his body if he’d not enjoyed it.

“The fact you of all people are telling me to quiet my voice is very laughable, I hope you know that,” you commented. Your voice had gone softer, the anger being swept away like the tide.

“Funny.” He responded, in a tone that held no amusement. He seemed to take a moment to do a deep breath before he continued to speak, finally explaining himself but still not looking you in the eyes. “I thought maybe you’d want space after I kissed you, I know it’s going to change things, I know how I want things to change, but I wanted to give you time to figure out what you wanted.”

“What do you mean?” You knew what he meant. You’d been thinking the exact same thing, but the difference is you weren’t as brave as Bakugo was. You needed him to continue being brave, because you couldn’t just step over that line, you needed his guidance. No, you needed reassurance that he’d be stepping over that line with you.

Maybe he knew that’s why you asked, maybe he heard it hidden behind your nervousness, despite you not saying it. He finally looked up and he even reached out, grabbing your hand in his. “It wasn’t just a one off for me; it was me hoping you’d see the connection.” 

You looked from his hand in yours to his eyes, he was analysing you just as much as he was analysing you. “So you want to be like, boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, and it was almost laughable at how nice he was being to you in that moment. Of course, as soon as you thought that he had to go ruin it. “I mean, we pretty much are already, you’re always hanging off my arm and cuddling up to me at night, only difference is we’d be kissing, and you weren’t that bad.”

The thing is, you liked his backhanded comments, because you knew they were always just compliments disguised. He wasn’t loud with his kindness, and that worked well for you. He was loud with everything else, and nine out of ten times, it amused you.

So even then, as he tried to blame you for all the cuddling you’d been doing together even though he’d been the one who started every interaction, you were completely and utterly charmed. Whilst you may have said ‘so you want to be like, boyfriend and girlfriend?’ He had heard ‘I’m scared you’re not thinking this through and we might be risking our friendship’. And whilst he’s said a load of hot air, you heard ‘you’re who I choose, you’re worth every risk’.

“Uh huh,” you hummed in response. “Ask me.”

He blinked over at you. “What?”

A prideful look that matched Bakugo’s filled your expression as your stature straightened slightly. “You want to date me, then you need to ask me to be your girlfriend.”

“You’re a real pain in my arse, Y/N,” he groaned, letting go of your hand and flopping down on his bed beside you.

“Back at you.” You got comfortable beside him, snuggling under the blanket and turning to face him.

He was looking up at the ceiling. “Be my girlfriend.”

You frowned at that. Did he really think you’d agree so easily? Had he forgotten who his best friend is. “You gonna say please?”

Turning around, his arm automatically fell onto your waist. “You want to be my girlfriend, I don’t need to say please.”

“It’s polite Bakugo.” You admonished.

“After all these years we’ve been friends, you still don’t know I don’t care about manners, they’re just a waste of time.”

“Guess being your girlfriend would be a waste of my time then,” you tutted. 

“Whatever. I’m done with this shit, I’m going to bed.”

“Fine.” Your words were terse but you didn’t budge an inch, comfortable in his hold.

“Fine!” He yelled, showing just how much you’d riled him up. You’d lying if you said it didn’t make you smile.

“Will you stop yelling? They might figure out I’m in here,” you hissed, mirroring his earlier words because you apparently weren’t done with pissing off your best friend.

His arm raised from around your waist to your shoulders, until he was shoving your face into your chest. “Shut up,” he hissed, smothering you. You slapped your hand against his chest three times before he relaxed.

Neither of you said anything, just fermenting in your annoyance towards one another for a little while before it faded. Anytime you argued with Bakugo, it would always fade, the feelings of anger or disdain taking off their mask and revealing themselves as something else, normally frustration. 

Because you loved him, a lot, and you hated fighting with him. It was a difficult thing to avoid when you were both so spirited sometimes, but it didn’t matter, because that love you had for him was stronger than anything else.

It seemed Bakugo agreed with you as his hand lowered back down to your waist, crawling under your vest. He didn’t need his powers, just his touch had you feeling like tiny explosions were going off wherever his hand moved. He gripped you on the curve of your hip bone, his entire body stiffening.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice low, giving it a rough tone that had you trembling in the most wonderful way. “Will you please be my girlfriend?”

[acourtofthought]

I don't know if I'm being petty, but I like to think that some of Elain's actions toward Azriel are just foreshadowing for Elucien's dynamic. For example, Lucien is very thoughtful about his choices for Elain's gifts, and Elain is invested in the presents she gives to others, including Azriel, even if it's in the form of a prank. This makes me think that receiving gifts will be one of their main love languages.

The scene where Elain called Azriel's scars beautiful could mean that if Lucien still holds any insecurities regarding his scars, it'd be no problem at all for his mate to help him realize how gorgeous he is, inside and out.

And, most of all, the theme of choice would fit so much better in an Elucien romance. I mean, Azriel isn't the one banned from two courts, prohibited to see his mother, exiled in a strange land, the one who has only two humans (who will die in a few decades compared to a fae immortal life) as his only friends, and he's definitely not the one being ignored by his mate and fearful of her rejection. If there's a character who deserves (plot-wise) to be chosen, it's definitely Lucien.

Besides, it would make so much sense with Elain's and Lucien's characters and with the development of their relationship. The fact that Lucien respects her time and space (or his passivity, as some like to call it) allows Elain to make the choice of pursuing the bond when she feels comfortable and secure enough. She'd also have more agency than her sisters in the beginning of their relationships.

But these are just thoughts.

Thank you for your blog and your theories and thoughts. You make me feel hopeful not only for an Elucien's endgame, but also that they really have the chance to get the next book. You have been a light in the end of this three-years-length tunnel.

P.S. I also have a guess that the announcement will be on May 1st. Hope we are right!

Also, the scene where Elain called Az's scars pretty could actually have been Elain calling his siphons pretty because Feyre wasn't sure what she was looking at.

However, I do agree that Elain is going to find Lucien's face devastatingly handsome and the reason for that kind of ties into her mother. Which sounds weird but I'll try to explain.

Her mother made assumptions about her, that she did not dream beyond her pretty dresses and gardens and that she would marry for love and "beauty". So of course, Elain tried to follow those expectations, getting engaged to exactly who her mother would have imagined for her.

I know Elain loved Graysen and probably found him handsome but he seems cookie cutter. Even Feyre said, he was sort of the human ideal of a lord come to sweep a maiden off her feet.

Lucien's face isn't perfect. He's handsome no doubt but he has long hair (no proper mother would approve of that), a scar running down his face and his eye. He is not the image of a baby faced Lord set to inherit his fathers estate someday. He's cruelly beautiful and looks dangerous and, we're all human here, that's going to thrill the "good girls" which everyone assumes Elain to be. Graysen is the kind of guy you have missionary sex with while the lights are out. Lucien is the kind of guy you are willing to do anything, anywhere with and that's probably a bit overwhelming for Elain given her upbringing. Right now, she's still stuck in the past, how she was raised, the kind of guy her mother proclaimed she would marry rather than embracing what lights her up like a pinball machine but I have no doubt once she does break free she's going to make sure he knows exactly how appealing she finds him because of the scars, the hair, the eye. Because of how it all comes together.

And I agree regarding the gifts! I think we see bits of Elain's personality around members of the IC but she never fully blooms, it's like a quick flash then it's gone. I could see Elain and Lucien teasing one another on regular days, silly gifts, sweet little gifts, but the important days I think will be when they reserve the really thoughtful, heartfelt gifts for.

With choice, I wonder if it's so much about that as fight.

(that sounds weird too but I wasn't sure how to word it).

What I mean by that is Lucien was chosen by Jesminda. He was chosen by Tamlin. He was chosen by many friends of which we're told he has many. He was chosen by the LoA as her favorite son. The problem is nobody fought to keep him.

The same with Elain. She was chosen by Graysen, she was "chosen" by Azriel, she was chosen by the chef and servants who wanted to do nice things for her, she was chosen by her many friends. But, none of them fought for her either. When things got hard they walked away.

Lucien and Elain are parallel in that they're just accepting life as it happens to them, trying to accept that when one door closes (to their dismay) and another opens, they roll with it even if they're not happy. They haven't learned to fight for themselves, possibly because they are used to not being fought for and as a result they try not to ask for much because they realize how expendable they are to others.

But in their book, I think they'll push past that to fight for what they do want and they will fight for one another. Lucien has been doing that so far when it comes to Elain. He is the one person who despite the odds did not walk away from her. Graysen gave up after Elain was turned. Az gave up easily, moved right onto feeling calm because of another female, admiring another female, thinking of another females eyes light up, even though Elain was probably upset after his rejection for the simple fact that any rejection hurts. But Lucien though he hasn't pushed her, has quietly fought for her for two years, by showing that he is still loyal to her and only her. And I imagine we'll also see Elain begin to fight for Lucien. Fighting against those who have wronged him, fighting for him to understand that he's not guilty for Jesminda's death or what happened to Feyre, etc.

Your last paragraph before the P.S. (May 1, May 1!!!) was so incredibly sweet and I wish I had better words to thank you for it.

I hope you have a fantastic day and I appreciate your message!

[pjsk-headcanons]

*deep breath pt 2* YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS!! MMJ UNIT SWAP LORE THIS TIME!! EXCEPT THAT IS NOT THEIR NAME!! (again heavily simplified for the sake of your blog)

mmj: shizuku (unit leader), ena, mafuyu, rui

MORE MORE JUMP! -> stage○•SHOWTIME!

-shizuku realized that the reason why people wanted her as an idol was because she has a pretty face, and that no other part of her was idol-like

-decided out of spite and some sort of desire to prove herself (to whom? who knows ;) hehe)

-met mafuyu at archery club. you probably know what happened next

-honestly trying to figure out how mafumom didnt reject the idea. probably brushed it off as a "side hustle" and "good work experience"

-mafuyu's "good girl" persona is badly crafted. she has snapped in public and will snap in public.

-they met ena while out on a cafe stroll. ena could not believe that she was being offered the chance of a lifetime and took it without hesitation.

-the trio were checking out some places they could do preformances at when 1. mafuyu snapped when she heard someone badmouth shizuku and 2. they met rui taking "a walk" (he was probably figuring out how to bomb his school" and rui manages to convince them to hang out.

-they learn that rui is VERY GOOD at management. you know what happens x2

-shizuku wanted an all girls group but rui is just so girlypop yk haha

-shizuku - unit leader/choreo, mafuyu - main vocalist/designer, ena - lyricist/illustrator, rui - manager/composer

TRUST RANKS

mafuyu - shizuku -> "beauty and honor" (how theyre seen at school), "archery aces" (they are both very good at their club activities in this au. once again i forgot if this is canon), "mask of perfection" (iykyk yadada *cries*)

rui - ena -> "that guy from school..." (bless ena for attending night classes she does NOT know what happens at kamiyama day classes. she only knows rui from occasional talks with a certain someone), "newfound respect", "follow that dream again" (rui and ena can fufill their passions now! yay!)

shizuku - ena -> "social media stars", "i wish i was your sister", "out of spite, out of love" (heh. up to interpretation.)

rui - mafuyu -> "two different purples" (is this just about hair? or something else? ;)), "author and artist" (not literally, composer and singer is what i meant but this sounds cooler sorry ena), "a facade or yourself?" (this is a point in the main story where rui finds out about mafuyus persona. very important line)

mafuyu - ena -> "speaking your words" (again. just pointing out roles), "family, right?" (mafumom is still mafumom and the shinonome household is a bit more problematic hehe), "if i was you..." (reference to original nightcords main story about how ena complains about mafuyu having the life ena wants. might keep it here?)

shizuku - rui -> "elegant with downsides" (rui being bonkers, at least with school, and shizuku being clumsy and bad w technology), "frontstage and backstage" (like nene, rui wasnt actually preforming with the rest of stage○•SHOWTIME! until later), "opposites in every way" (thank about it - opposite hair length, hair colour, eye colour, role in the group (w songs too), technology, school...yapyapyap)

anyways thanks for screaming in the tags mod it actually makes me so happy i love reading your opinions in the tags. please yap more its so fun to read

next is vbs!! who do you think is in there??

🌐 anon

.

[peachsayshi]

heyy idk if you're still doing ex husband nanami etc but here goes nothing!! maybe after the new year's party nanami finally meets the guy she went on a date with?? you're free to write anything on that ♥️

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ A Reason To Celebrate ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni) ↬･tags: ex husband nanami x reader; angst; mostly fluff; nanami has a son; angy nanami; kissing ↬･ wc: 6,740

↬ notes: I was supposed to post this in honor of kento's birthday, but better late than never! here is a highly requested update for you all x there is a bit of a time skip from the last part!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Nanami regrets agreeing to this divorce.

He knows that he shouldn’t have conceded to you so easily. He understands that he shouldn’t have turned his back on you when you confessed that you wanted out of this relationship. He hates that he allowed his pride to get in the way of your true feelings, and is ashamed for cowering into a corner when what he needed to do was fight even harder to keep you by his side. He’s sorry for the terrible words that he threw at you early on, when he placed the blame entirely on you for ruining what was so, so perfect.

When you said “I do” it was because you accepted him wholeheartedly, but he broke his a vow by not leaving his job as he intended the minute that pregnancy strip turned pink.

The trials and tribulations of a jujutsu sorcerer never ends, but nothing he’s ever experienced compares to how hollow he feels.

That’s why he’s been spending every hour dissecting the current status of your relationship. He’s struggling to figure out his balance now that he’s turned his entire world upside down.

All he wants to do is rekindle the flame of what he lost.

“Be honest with me…are you truly happy with how things are between us?”

Your eyes revealed the softest, most vulnerable parts of yourself when he posed that question. He saw how quickly you buried the weight of your emotion into his chest, could see that it was a desperate attempt to hide from confronting the truth.

Months have passed since that night.

Your relationship with your ex-husband is the best it’s ever been - the two of you have finally figured out how to construct your lives in these two separate parts.

You get to have him in doses, and he no longer burdens you with worry.

This arrangement has been working out swimmingly, but Nanami still can’t ignore the feeling that if you could just meet him halfway, then maybe there might actually be a chance for a real reconciliation.

Things took a turn last week when you surprised your ex-husband with a call while he was at work, asking him if he had the time to take Hiroki off your hands for the rest of the afternoon.

“I just need a little bit of time for myself,” you reluctantly blurted, the unusual statement sounding foreign on your lips.

Nanami’s concern wouldn’t stop him from prying. “Is everything alright? Are you feeling unwell?”

“Oh, yes, I’m fine!” you squeaked. “I just…uhm…I just really need the quiet today. I know this is very last minute, and of course I understand if you’re too busy-”

“I’m not busy at all,” he immediately interjected, his heart screaming that he would willingly jump at your every command if you asked. “I’ll just inform Gojo that I’m taking the day off. He won’t have any problems with it…”

Later that evening, while running a quick errand with his son, Nanami saw you stepping out of his favorite bakery.

His heart fluttered in his chest at the sight of you in your summer green dress, the heat already rushing to his cheeks as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He was already contemplating with an idea on how to swing you out of your alone time to indulge him for a quick bite to eat, but that blissful plan was rudely interrupted by a gentleman who followed your footsteps soon after.

Nanami blinked his brown eyes in disbelief, staring with his mouth slightly apart as you spoke to the man with a level of familiarity that made your ex-husband nauseous. He saw the stranger reach for the tip of your fingers to help assist you with one of the many, many shopping bags in your hands.

The radiant glow blooming from the deepest parts of his chest collapsed in on itself upon seeing your flustered expression from the contact.

Dread overcomes him when he recalls that the last time you had asked him to watch over Hiroki was when you decided to go out on that stupid date.

Nanami had allowed the center of his own feelings to distract him from the current state that his marriage is in. Just because he is willing and ready to reconcile, that didn’t necessarily mean that you felt the same way. He’s just been trying so hard to stop you from pushing him out, and after the recent events that transpired between you both, he actually thought he was making some kind of progress.

You didn’t even seem interested in the guy when you relayed to him how your date went. The little incident that happened at the Gojo’s New Years Eve party suggested that maybe your feelings for Nanami weren’t so far out of his reach. Nanami rarely ever remembers his drinking sessions with Shoko, but what remained perfectly etched in his brain was the question that he boldly asked you - the one that continued to haunt him as the weeks passed by, and which he prayed that he would eventually get an answer to.

Did he misread the signs?

He wondered if you thought his question was simply the ramblings of a disoriented drunk, even though it was the most honest he’s been about his feelings in a while.

The longer he stood there watching you with this other man, the more he could feel his heart shattering.

His logic contradicted his apprehension with a gentle reminder of the words that you shared with him - of how your intimate and close relationship with him will always mean something to you…

He hesitated approaching you both at first, but you are still his family after all and he wasn’t about to pretend like couldn’t visibly see what was playing out before him.

If you were, in fact, seeing somebody else…then the man had every right to know about it.

Anger and betrayal guided him towards you and he greeted you with a cold and polite, “hello”.

Despite his stoic expression, he was barely holding it together watching your eyes widen in a state of shock. He instantly knew that he was the last person you were expecting to run into.

“K-Ken!” you gasped, flickering your pretty irises between your ex-husband and the man beside you. “uh-what…what are you doing here?”

Nanami’s eyes never left yours; he’s studied every reaction out of you like they were written out as sacred texts. He memorized the tempos of your breath, counted the blinks, and interpreted the many ways in which your lips could speak without ever making a sound.

“I ran out of bread. So, I decided to take Hiroki for a little walk and pick some up,” he replied before shifting his sharp and scrutinizing gaze towards the man.

The gentleman seemed equally as taken aback by Nanami, and your ex-husband could see an uneasiness washing over him.

“Hello,” he firmly greeted, introducing himself without any consideration over the thick tension that suddenly manifested. “I don’t believe we’ve met…”

The man parted his lips to speak but you were quick to cut off his answer, your suspicious behavior only fueling Nanami's anxiety.

“This is Matsuda-san! Matsuda, this is Kento Nanami…he’s my…uhm,” you fumble but quickly recollect yourself to avoid anymore awkwardness, “he’s Hiroki’s father…”

That nearly split the sorcerer in half.

You took a second to catch your breath, unreasonably winded from the explanation alone.

“Ken, Matsuda-san is an acquaintance of mine. We actually had dinner a while back…I think you might remember me telling you about it?”

Nanami’s face turned to stone, hardening every muscle to stop himself from reacting.

Of course he remembers, he grumbles to himself, just like how he can still feel you on the tips of his fingers when his hand was between your legs while you were telling him all about it…

So, this is the guy, he acknowledged, a slight tremor shaking down his spine.

“Yes that’s right,” Matsuda confirmed with giddy amusement, but it only made Nanami want to knock the teeth out of that smug grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nanami-san....”

“You as well” Nanami responded bitterly but tried his best to remain cordial. He quickly averted his attention away from the man and back to your skittish self.

“Are you heading back to your place? I’ll gladly walk you home…”

“Actually…” Matsuda interrupted, and the cold stare Nanami shot at him was enough to shut him up before he could even pose any kind of bold suggestions.

“Well, you see…” you stammered nervously, “I’m actually not heading home just yet. I…uh, wanted to stop by this new boutique shop that just opened! You know, the one where I got my body wash from? They apparently have a great sale going on, and I really don’t want to miss it…”

“If I’m not mistaken, isn’t that shop just around the corner from your place?” Nanami pressed, slightly annoyed over the fact that this guy has not taken the hint and scampered off somewhere else.

“Oh, yeah…it is,” you wince unsuccessfully , “but the things is, I don’t know how long I’m going to be, and…uh…”

He can see you panicking, notice the way you were crafting a brand new story out of thin air to play it off as the truth.

He couldn’t hide the hurt on his face which softened at your desperate attempt.

You’ve always been such a terrible later.

“The thing is,” you carry on , “I actually made plans to meet with my co-worker…and, and… Matsuda-san is joining us as well! But…But, I’ll call you once I’m done to pick up Hiroki, okay?”

He hated how formally you sounded when speaking to him, like he was just another friend and not the man who was your former husband, not the man who you shared your body with or confessed your unconditional love to.

“Of course,” he conceded with resent, “I guess I’ll see you later this evening…”

He turned on his heel and walked in the other direction, refusing to look back to where his broken heart had remain fragmented.

When you picked up Hiroki that evening, Nanami couldn’t help but remain frigid towards you. He didn’t extend the usual invitation of welcoming you to his home, nor did he care to engage in any small conversation.

He was tired of having you drag him around with absolutely no consideration of his feelings.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

On any other day, Nanami would have the patience to deal with his superior’s animated personality. He closes his tired eyes for just a second in an attempt to tune out Gojo’s boisterous tone, and reluctantly releases a long, drawn out sigh.

“Nanamin,” Gojo lectures, “don’t frown on your birthday or you’ll be miserable until the next one…”

The blonde felt his eye twitch, noted the sudden tension pinching in the space where his brows furrowed together and he quickly glances over his shoulder to see the flash of a pearly, white grin looking right at him.

He can’t help but grimace.

Gojo raises his eyebrow, taken aback by the disdain on his subordinates face. “What? Are you really that upset because we decided to do something nice for you?”

Despite their best efforts to keep it all a secret, Nanami knew that Gojo and his band of students were planning out something special for his birthday.

Itadori wouldn’t stop pestering him with questions over what kind of gifts he likes, and what his favorite treats are. He would run off in secret with the other students and nearly flew across the room whenever Nanami caught him alone with Gojo.

For Itadori’s sake, Nanami attempted to display a level of surprise when he walked into the break room earlier today and was welcomed by a small party which everyone had pitched in to put together for him.

“I-…no…that’s not it…” He replies to Gojo’s initial question with a somber tone. Dropping his shoulders in defeat, he continues to carefully pack the array of gifts that have been left for him. “Although I find it quite unnecessary, I am very grateful for this, for what you all did…”

“How unfortunate for you to be so loved and cared for…” Gojo sassily remarks with a click of his tongue.

“Let’s not ruin a good thing, shall we? That’s probably the nicest compliment you’ll ever receive from me”

His superior laughs, “I’m sure I can drag another one out of you”

The echo of Gojo’s boot surrounds the room as he slowly approaches Nanami to stand by his side. “Seriously though,” he presses as he slides his hands deep into his pockets, “anything you want to share with me?”

“Not particularly,” Nanami huffs as he places the last gift into the paper bag.

“Not that it’s news, but you’ve had a particularly displeased scowl resting on your face for over a week…”

The blonde pauses what he’s doing to exhale with frustration, and it only prompts Gojo to quirk a curious brow.

Nothing Nanami could say would make him feel better about the fact that he saw his ex-wife with another man. Nothing will ease the wariness in his chest that you two have barely spoken to one another since that god awful encounter, and the one thing that Nanami least expected to happen on his birthday was for you to forget to call or text him a wish.

Instead, he swallows the hurt that lumps in his throat and glosses over Gojo’s concern over him.

“Nothing’s wrong”

He glances at his wrist to check the time. The festivities of the afternoon has him running late, which means that he’ll have to rush home and get ready quickly to make it in time to your place.

He picks up the two paper bags laying out on the table, “I have to go. I have to pick up Hiroki…”

His superior pouts his lip while complacently nodding his head, and taking into account the sudden sensitivity around the subject. His knowing eyes hidden behind his blindfold can tell that Nanami was avoiding the discussion entirely, but the blonde refused to stay behind and give Gojo anymore ammunition for him to pry even further.

But before he walked out the door, he could hear Satoru yelling from the back room.

"Cheer up, Nanamin! You never know if the day will take an unexpected turn!"

As he made his way out onto the grounds of Jujutsu Tech, Nanami considers that there is always a reason to celebrate one’s birthday, but for whatever reason, none of them seemed good enough for him this year.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

On his way home from work, Nanami tries to show gratitude to the small pockets of joy in his day.

He begrudgingly sent Gojo a follow up text to thank him for what he put together with the students after feeling a tad bit guilty about his rude responses earlier.

He was soon met with a bombardment of annoying pictures and I love you posts from his superior, to which he immediately muted the chat to in order to stop getting harassed with endless notifications.

He can feel the exhaustion settling in by the time he arrives to his place, slowly turning the key to his front door. Carefully taking off his shoes, he neatly places them on his shelf by the entrance before dragging his tired heels down the hallway.

He can’t stop thinking about the way the students showered him with such affection, and it is a conscious reminder of why he continues pursuing being a jujutsu sorcerer.

He cares for every one of them deeply, and would never allow the archaic practices of the society to strip them of their golden hearts and pure minds.

Things have to be different with them.

He places the paper bags filled with gifts on the floor, thinking that he’ll get around to opening them sometime tomorrow, then proceeds to loosen the tie around his neck. He steps out into the open space of his apartment, only to find himself walking into a sea of golden strings that were tied to round, blue balloons.

Nanami freezes.

You’re in the middle of his living room, wearing a pair of denim jeans and an embroidered white top that he specifically remembers buying for you while you were both dating.

You’re holding his son in your arms, the two of you beaming a very similar smile, and wearing an obnoxious pair of frilly party hats.

“Wha-”

Hiroki interrupts him by blowing into the party horn, the silly noise making him giggle as he repeats the action for a second time.

“Surprise!” you bounce with a little excitement, and Hiroki mimics your phrase as he attempts to speak out this new word.

Your ex-husband stares at you in shock.

He’s still absorbing all the elements around him, taking in the new details of the colorful, piped cake resting on the dining table, along with a full spread of dinner when the aromatics finally envelop his senses while also recognizing that there is music playing as low, mellow beats surround the room.

“We got your daddy good,” you adorably whisper into Hiroki’s ear, and Nanami swears that he can feel his heart beat for the first time in a week.

“What…” he rasps, snapping himself out of the disorientation and breaking the silence. “What are you doing here? How…How did you even get in?”

“I used the spare key you gave me…” you explain.

“But you’ve never used the spare key…” he argues back courteously.

You step closer towards him, and Hiroki immediately extends his chubby arms out to his father while dropping his party horn in the process.

Brown eyes stay watching you as Nanami reaches for his son, he secures him in one arm while the other searches for your waist to stop you from crouching down to pick up the insignificant object.

He squeezes you affectionately, begging for answers.

“I know, but today is different…It’s your birthday, Kento!”

“But…”

“But, what?” you question with a raised brow, your eyes glancing away for only a minute to look at how Hiroki mirrors his father. “Did you really think we weren’t going to celebrate this together?”

He slips his arm around your waist, resting his large palm flat against your the small of your back.

“I just thought that…I just thought that you were busy. I haven’t really heard from you this week…”

His voice is small, cautionary almost, like he’s too afraid to let his woes slip out.

You giggle sheepishly, and it sends goosebumps to run all over his skin.

“Well, I’ve been running around planning out a little something for somebody special,” you admit with a sly smile, “plus, I’ve also been helping out Yuji and Gojo with their secret surprise for you…”

Nanami can’t help but crack a smile, sensing the frustration of his stress dispersing.

“Don’t tell me that was your idea too?”

“Not necessarily, but I offered to help them out after Gojo called me. Besides, Yuji was struggling with ideas because he couldn’t swing any decent answers out of you…”

His fingers lightly tense around the fabric of your top, scrunching the material just a bit. “You knew about it but you weren’t there today,” he points out.

Your heart shivers from the innocent contact, but you hold your unwavering grin before replying, “I was thinking of stopping by at first, but I told Gojo that I would rather do something more cozy. I thought-I thought you might have appreciate if it was just the three of us celebrating together…”

Nanami smiles and it brightens his whole face. His eyes gleam with pure, unfiltered joy and he tenderly tugs you closer into his frame as he pulls you in for a much needed hug.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” he murmurs into your hair.

He keeps you there, the stillness only disturbed by Hiroki’s slightly fidgety state. He strokes his thumb up and down against your back, and rests his chin on your temple as he allows you to meld into the contortions of his frame when you return his embrace.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Nanami was the one who always cooked.

In a way, your former husband spoiled you from ever wanting to go back into the kitchen by yourself because he always put together the most delectable meals.

Tonight, you decided to take on that role.

Gojo managed to keep Nanami distracted enough with their own party which gave you enough time to put together the spread of dinner. You sliced up fresh bread that you picked up from his favorite bakery, prepared homemade garlic oil which you used to cook down pieces of steak, and assembled a hearty salad.

The look of appreciation on Nanami’s face was more than enough to make you happy.

Content and stuffed with delicious food, you can’t help but admire him as he holds Hiroki’s cheek. The comparison of their size shows you how much time has already passed. Your son was no longer a tiny bundle with a pink nose wrapped up in a little blanket, he was growing into a whole new form of cuteness. He laughs with comprehension, and looks at you and Nanami with a recognition that reassures his safety.

“Da da da da…” he sings mindlessly, and Nanami chuckles as he swipes his thumb over Hiroki’s cheek to pick up a streak of pink buttercream.

“He’s covered in frosting,”

Your eyes immediately drop to your ex-husband’s lips, and you can’t help but tuck the bottom of your mouth between your teeth as you watch him suck off the frosting from the pad of his finger.

Your stomach coils, a tight band forming deep in your core, it’s so easy for you to get wound up whenever you’re around him, but lately that feeling has been much harder to fight off.

You sink your fork into your half-eaten piece of cake, picking up a tiny amount of vanilla sponge and moving it closer to your son. “Hiroki, you want another bite?” you ask, but you watch as he scrunches his nose in disdain.

His big, curious eyes catch the pretty color bordering the sponge, and he mindlessly reaches his fingers onto the plate to grab a fistful of cream.

“Ah! Hiroki!” you laugh playfully, as you pull the plate away and place it down onto the coffee table, denying him a second chance to do the same thing with his other hand.

“We should probably get him cleaned up…”

He’s already devouring the buttercream, and a deep, rumbling laughter erupts from right next to you.

“He’s fine,” Nanami shrugs off, lightly pushing his son’s blonde locks away from his face.

“Yeah, but I don’t want these sticky fingers getting all over your presents…” you insist.

You stand up from your seat and reach your arms out to grab Hiroki, but to your surprise Nanami simply gets up from the couch as well.

“Alright, my darling, you heard your mother…let’s get you cleaned up…”

He follows you into the kitchen. You immediately turn on the faucet to the sink, checking to make sure that the temperature is neither too hot or cold. Nanami leans forward, keeping his thumb and index finger around Hiroki’s wrist and directing it towards the water.

He rinses off the mess while you look around for some hand towels, to which your husband informs you that there are some extra ones folded in the bottom drawer.

You reach down to grab them, but by the time you return upright you see that your son has already found another way to dry off his wet little hands. He’s smoothing it all over Nanami’s blue shirt, leaving damp patches across his chest.

“Mama!” Hiroki calls out, turning his body within Nanami’s grasp to reach for you.

You press your mouth together as you look at your former lover with sympathy, but he nonchalantly just shrugs his shoulders.

“I guess he’s done with me now that he’s dried himself off”

You place the hand towel back on the counter, and carry your son in your arms. He flashes you the most angelic expression in the world, a look of such innocence that makes it impossible for you to hide your smile. You press you forehead against his own, and leave a peck on the button of his nose.

“Ready to give your daddy his present?”

Nanami leans his hip against the counter, keeping only a short distance of space between you both. You don’t have to face him to know that that he’s looking at you both with eyes dipped in pure devotion because you can feel the sheer intensity of his gaze from standing right where you are.

“Dinner, cake, and now presents? I’m truly a spoiled man today…”

You gaze at him from underneath your lashes, aware that you’re allowing your heart to speak on your behalf before replying, “you deserve to be spoiled, Ken”

He takes another step closer, narrowing the gap, and your entire body tenses up. You breathe in the faint scent of his lingering cologne, a fragrance of smoked wood and spicy herbs, and for whatever reason you can’t stop thinking about pressing yourself into the source.

“Alright,” he teases with flirtatious grin, “spoil me.”

The three of you are soon back on the couch, with Hiroki seated comfortably on your lap.“The first present is from Hiroki,” you announce as you pass the gift towards your husband, “he even wrapped it up himself.”

“I can see that,” Nanami acknowledges and starts to peel away at the messily folded paper to reveal the what is underneath.

The ceramic plate is hand painted. In the middle was the palm print of Hiroki’s right hand, and the detailing consisted of uneven brushstrokes in various colors. You spent a whole hour with your son to guide him with the design, practicing the motion of how to paint over and over again. Nanami smoothed his finger over his son’s imprint, focusing specifically on the letters right in the center which read: “I love you”.

“My, my, Hiroki…” he beams with pride, but his ears were turning pink knowing whose true hand wrote those words. “I didn’t know you had such artistic talents…”

His son smiles despite not quite comprehending his father’s sentiment. Nanami leans down to kiss his cheek, before leaving a second on the top of his head.

You don’t know why you’re so nervous to give him your gift but your hands tremble slightly as you pick it up, and a spark of electricity bolts up your left arm when he deliberately brushes his fingers on yours as he takes it from your hand.

“I know you have a whole stockpile of gifts to go through, but this is another that you can add to the list. You don’t have to open it now, you can save it for later if you like-”

Nanami unravels the tiny ribbon wrapped in the center, “it’s okay, I don’t mind opening it now.”

Your hands clasp themselves around Hiroki’s belly, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you keep your eyes focused on his face in anticipation of his reaction.

Nanami holds the vinyl record in his hand, his brows lifting almost instantly.

“You always mentioned how much you loved collecting cds when you were in teenager, and that you wanted to invest in having your own record collection one day. So, I thought this might be a good place to start! I remembered you saying that this band in particular was your favorite, so I wanted to make sure to get one by them…”

“This,” he interjects quietly, “This is a very rare vinyl…it’s not easy to get your hands on an original…”

Your cheeks grow hot, “yeah, well, it took me a while to find it but the search was worth it!”

“This is very sweet of you…”

Your mouth stretches from ear to ear, your cheeks pinching with delight. “I’m so happy you like it, Ken!”

When he looks at you this time, you’re completely captivated by the warm tones of his eyes and slight dilation of his pupils. His attention dips to your parted lips, before returning back to meet your heated stare.

He places the vinyl carefully onto the counter.

“I love the present,” he confesses, “I loved the cake, the dinner, having you both here…everything was…perfect.”

“Good, good,” you nod with approval, all the while trying to ignore your throat suddenly feeling tight. “You know, when I ran into you last week, I was genuinely worried that I might have given it all away…”

“Right, when you introduced me to Matsuda…”

His face grows sullen, and you’re caught off guard by his sudden indignation. Just as he found a moment to get a closer, Nanami decides in these fleeting seconds to pull himself away. He clears his throat as he shifts down, “thank you so much for the gifts,” he repeats with a stiff tone, “I think I’ll just get a head start with cleaning up…”

You look at him peculiarly, unsure of what triggered your handsome ex to shut down so suddenly around you.

“Don’t worry about cleaning up, I can do that-”

“I don’t want to keep you,” he harshly remarks, but the way he cuts off you makes you crinkle your eyes in frustration.

“Wait a minute,” you shoots your hand out to grab the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m not-I’m not in a rush to leave or anything…”

Nanami shrugs off your touch and it feels like a slap to the wrist.

"It's alright," he adds, "I don't want to intrude on you if you have other plans..."

Confusion gets the best of you, you can't seem to figure out what exactly set him off so quickly. You know this man well enough that you can tell that he's visibly upset, except he's doing everything in his power to hide it from you.

He picks up the plates on the coffee table before proceeding to head towards the kitchen.

You glance down at Hiroki for some level of consolation, but your son just looks back up at you with equal uncertainty.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You settle Hiroki onto his play mat before making your way over to a very disgruntled Nanami. Your brain replays the last five minutes to decipher what it was you said that set him off, and you slide your hands into the back pocket of your jeans as you hesitantly approach him in the kitchen.

He's placing dishes into the sink, the warm light illuminating his face and highlighting the tips of his sharp cheekbones. You can see the twinge in his jaw, notice the tight knot of tension resting between his brows as he keeps his lips pressed into a firm line.

"Ken?" you speak softly, a wary smile forming on your lips. "What's wrong?"

He stops what he's doing, his hands reaching the edge of the counter and he squeezes the surface until his knuckles turn white. He's still trying to keep a level ahead, drawing out another exhale until he finally motivates himself to face you.

His eyes darken and your body shivers.

"Is this supposed to be test?"

"Test?"

"You need more proof to see how far I'll go just to make you happy?"

"What proof? I don't even know what you're talking about-"

He shakes his head in disbelief, standing upright before taking two long strides to close the gap of space so he's looking down right at you.

"We're just going to sit here and pretend like I didn't interrupt you on a date with your dear friend, Matsuda-san..."

"Date?!" you blurt in shock, taking in your ex lovers odd accusation with full surprise. "Kento-"

He folds his arms over his broad chest as he shifts his weight from one foot to the next.

"Look, I get it. We aren't together anymore, but you're still...very, very Important to me. I regard you so highly..."

"As do I-"

"I haven't asked anything of you in all this, not a single thing. I've said yes to whatever it is you have asked me. I did that all for your sake, not mine. The least I expected was some decency in return, and for you to be honest with me when you decided to jump into another relationship..."

"Kento!" you call out, reaching your hands up to his cheeks to stop him from rambling on any further.

The act renders him silent.

"I'm not...I'm not dating Matsuda," you state with a slight laugh like it's the most comical idea to cross your mind. "As a matter of fact, I'm not seeing anyone right now...I...I haven't even considered the idea...."

"But last week..." he insists with a panic that makes your chest ache.

You drop your hands to his shoulders to give him a reassuring squeeze.

"Kento, I asked you to watch over Hiroki because I was trying to sort this out," you clarify, glancing your eyes towards the party decorations and the entire set up that you had worked so hard to put together. "You never go to the bakery on a Wednesday, so I thought it would the perfect time to reserve all the stuff that I needed. I ran into Matsuda while I was there. The last time I saw him was when we...when I agreed to have dinner with him..."

Nanami breathes in softly, steadying himself as he hangs on attentively to every word that you have to say.

"Matsuda couldn't take the hint that I wasn't interested. I was about to decline his offer of walking me home when you showed up, and I...I really didn't expect to run into you. I overreacted because I was worried that you might catch onto my little plan. I just came up with a random excuse to lead you off the trail. I didn't..."

You sigh with remorse, shifting to look up at your ex from underneath your lashes as you finally piece together the source of his contention.

"I didn't even realize how that must have looked to you. I'm so sorry, Kento. I would never do anything to hurt you like that. Ever. You're too...you're too important me...and all I was thinking about...all I wanted to do was to make your birthday special for you. I really wasn't giving Matsuda any consideration..."

A wave of relief washes over him, all the while you can't stop thinking about how cute he looks all flustered.

"Shit," he murmurs, bringing two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose as his cheeks turn a subtle shade of pink. "I feel like an idiot..."

You purse your lips into another small grin, "you're not an idiot, it's just a misunderstanding..."

He stays silent for a moment, returning his sights back on you as he nips at his bottom lip.

"I'm...I'm never going to be okay with it..." he boldly admits, his voice dropping another octave as two hands settle against your sides. "I'll tolerate everything else between us, but I'll never be okay watching you move on with somebody else..."

His words make your heart shrivel like a piece of fruit bathing underneath the golden sun. Heat rushes to your cheeks as the band in your belly twists into another knot.

When you part your lips to say something, no words come out.

"Are you really that shocked?" he questions, clenching his hands around the waistband of your jeans. "Put yourself in my shoes, how would you feel if you saw me with someone else?"

You feel a catch in your throat. You don't want to admit how often you've thought about it, considered what he does in his spare time when you and Hiroki weren't in the picture. Whenever your mind spirals with the idea that he was with another woman, it would bring tears to your eyes every. single. time.

"I don't even like thinking about it," you disclose, your voice cracking slightly as your throat goes dry.

"I guess," he whispers, tugging you forward so that you were both now chest to chest, "we can at least agree on one thing..."

Your hands trail to his pecs, your eyes growing heavy as you feel the weight of his forehead press tenderly onto yours. His fingers find your chin, the featherlight touch tilting it only slightly upward so your lips can brush over his.

He doesn't stop himself this time, doesn't consider the laundry list of reasons as to why this will only complicate things further. He's tired of this divorce, tired of not having you around, so fucking tired of not kissing you whenever his heart desires-

So, he presses his mouth delicately down onto yours and throws caution to the wind.

Your knees buckle, your fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt as your eyes fall close like you've been cast under a spell. A surge of adrenaline rushes through your veins, making your body buzz from the tip of your fingers down to your toes. You can feel Nanami's heart race from beneath your palm just as he parts his lips to invite you to taste him even further and you can't help but sing sweetly into the kiss as you allow your tongue to slip through.

"hmph, Ken," you mumble, attempting to draw your spit slicked lips away but the man simply captures you back with ease.

He can hear the resistance in your voice, but there was no way he was letting you go that easily again.

"Stay the night," he requests with a gentle snag of your bottom lip.

Your shaky arms circle around his neck, your body melting into him as he daringly draws his hand from your lower back to dive straight into the back pocket of your jeans.

With a kiss to the corner of your mouth he follows up his demand with a loving "please?"

"I don't know...mmph," you sigh, but in between Nanami interrupts you with another peck.

"I don't know..." you repeat again under your breath, only this time you find yourself searching for his mouth.

The exchange carries on, light smacks and tender licks distracting you both and Nanami drops his other hand to circle around your throat.

The blood rushes between his legs feeling the vibrating flutter of your pulse beneath his fingers.

"Hiroki's staying" he insists as he nuzzles the tip of his nose over yours. "We'll have some more cake, get him ready for bed, and then you and I..."

Your fingers thread between the strands of his blonde hair, your neck falling to the side as he travels to the spot that makes you go weak.

"can keep talking."

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

regarding ex husband nanami requests - requests for this series are still open, I feel like I'm building the story with you guys so I'll keep it that way until it's complete. please note that not all requests will be fulfilled - I do get some that are quite similar so I'm selecting based off of how the story progresses xo

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let know if you would liked to be tagged! x

@hisheadismountfuji @clara-geekhime @moonmalice @bibemiiu @nutheadgeenat @satoruhour @i-be-teff

[thankeywa]

Can i request a FILTHY SMUTY IMAGINE. that lo'ak has a wet dream of kiris best friend.that he hates.. 😔and then he has to deal with the results (bôñér) then later he like kisses us then that leads to filthy smut. 🧍🏻‍♀️

Cruel to be kind | Lo'ak x fem!Na'vi!reader (Smut)

Summary: request (above), enemies to lovers, a lil angst, NSFW, p in v, oral (reader receiving), Lo'ak and f! Omatikaya! reader are AGED UP (20+)

minors DNI with this or anything on my blog.

A.N: oof anon, this request got me bad, also the way you wrote boner is funny as hell. Going to try something new and write 'you' instead of 'y/n' for this. Also the fact that Lo'ak kisses both of us, I love that for us. I hope you enjoy 😉😘

word count: 4.2k

Lo'ak hated you. No, seriously. He quite literally couldn't stand the sight of you.

Kiri just had to choose you as her best friend for some reason, and you'd always been hanging around his family since you were little. Even though the years had passed, and you were no longer that annoying little girl who teamed up with his sister to bother him, you still found other ways to infuriate him.

Your constant strive to know more about humans, for example. Lo'ak could see right through your phoney attempts to pretend to be interested in Kiri's origins, no matter how often he caught you listening to her mother's music or learning how to read English through her 'books'. It was all a farçe and he knew it.

Your looks were another thing. Every single male his age couldn't help but fawn over you, and he just didn't get it. Honestly, it was hard to even look at you most of the time. Especially into your eyes. The mere idea made his stomach flip. One night, Neteyam had even briefly mentioned how 'beautiful' you'd become, and Lo'ak had almost torn his head off. How could his brother actually be so stupid? It had been completely lost on him that Neteyam was simply trying to make his brother realise he actually had a crush on you, and that's where all of his pent up anger was coming from.

It wasn't a secret that Lo'ak didn't like you, not even to you. Yet you still tried to be nice to him all the damn time. You were such a fake, it was unbelievable.

One night Lo'ak wanted to be alone, but on his way to one of his usual hiding spots he ran into you and someone who could have only been... courting you.

"Kaltxì, Lo'ak!" You waved at him sweetly while holding the guy's hand. It made Lo'ak sick. You made him sick.

"Bite me, [ ]." Lo'ak answered rudely, not stopping to engage in any further conversation.

You weren't really taken back by his hostility, but as always the hurt showed in your face. Sealtiel, your date, wasn't at all impressed with Lo'ak's behavior. "How dare you talk to her that way, you five fingered freak?"

Rage boiled up inside of you even before Lo'ak had a chance to react. You pulled yourself away from Sealtiel's hold on your hand and gave him a piece of your mind. Lo'ak imagined you were more intent on defending Kiri than him, since she had human features too, but he still felt like shit for being rude to you in front of someone else at that moment.

You stormed off, and after a few seconds of contemplation, Lo'ak tried to follow after you. But you stopped him in his tracks. "I don't need anymore of your crap right now, okay Lo'ak?" You snapped at him, turning around to face him.

"No, it's just--- I wanted to—" Lo'ak stammered. It had never happened to him before. Maybe only once, when he was 12, and he'd alone out in the forest, reciting all the ways he could think of to ask you a girl he liked out. Just for practice. It wasn't like he'd gone out to pick flowers, or anything.

"What? Make another cruel joke? Wait for someone else to come by so you can humiliate me in front of them? I don't know what I ever did, for you to hate me so much, but I'm done trying to understand." You hissed at him. "Stay. Away from me."

Fine, Lo'ak thought, as he watched you walk away from him. He had nothing to apologise for anyway. It wasn't his fault he couldn't be obsessed with you like everyone else seemed to be. Lo'ak had already been keeping clear of you, you were the one who always seemed to want to talk.

"Yeah? Well maybe you should take your own advice, then!" He yelled back at you, his voice cracking. You were already gone.

That night he couldn't sleep. It was just another thing about you. On those days that you really irked him, he just couldn't relax. Lo'ak would toss and turn for hours on end, rethinking all the things he could have said and done instead. Until finally exhaustion would take over in the early hours before the end of the eclipse.

...💫...

Lo'ak was making his way through the forest, longing for a soak and some well deserved time alone in the small stream just past the waterfalls. He'd gone out at night as usual, so none of his annoying siblings would follow him.

Soon enough he could hear the stream, and finally he came upon the small pond of clear water where he usually went to clear his head. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw someone had already had the same idea as him. Before the other Na'vi could notice him, Lo'ak panicked and hid behind a tree.

But then he made the fatal mistake of peeking around the corner to see who it was and was caught by them immediately.

"I know you're there, Lo'ak." Your voice called out to him, followed by a soft giggle. Lo'ak felt himself grow hot all over from the embarrassment, screwing his eyes shut and drawing his ears down as he desperately hoped for the ground to swallow him whole.

The last person he wanted to see at that moment was you. Especially underneath those circumstances.

When he dared to open his eyes again, he was staring right at you. Your body was wet and glistening in the darkness, and you were shivering lightly from the cool air of the night on your skin. Lo'ak could see all of you, or the best approximation of what his mind could come up with of your features, and he was completely frozen in place y the sight of them. "I was— I didn't know that you were..." He breathed out with some difficulty, doing his best to keep his eyes trained on your face.

"It's getting a little cold now..." You murmured, cozying up to him. "Come warm me up a little?"

Lo'ak was a goner as soon as he heard you say those words. The second he nodded and leaned into you to catch your lips with his own, your hands were on his waist and making quick work of ridding him of his loincloth.

All the desperation Lo'ak felt down to the very core of his being, made the scene in his mind escalate pretty quickly. The Na'vi pulled you close, finally able to let his hands roam your body as he pleased, and trapped you between himself and the tree he'd been hiding behind only a few moments earlier.

"Lo'ak, I need you, please..." You almost sobbed as he ran his fingers between your slick folds just to feel how ready you were for him there. Lo'ak took a moment to appreciate your arched back and spread legs as you presented to him, before taking his stance behind you. "This why you mess with my head all the time?" He whispered in a low voice as he began to pound into your warmth, but you could only answer with broken moans as you feebly tried to meet his thrusts. "You just wanted me to pay you a little attention, uh?"

He gave your tail a harsh tug when you didn't answer right away.

"Y-yes! Hh-hhn, w-wanted... you... t-to..." Your answer got lost in a babble of incoherent mewls and wails.

The night began to twist itself in a fever dream of Lo'ak body entangled with yours in different scenarios that came and went in his mind. If at first he was staking his claim on you at a punishing pace until the roughness of the tree bark began to cut into your skin, the next moment the two of you were by the stream and you were riding his cock like your life depended on it.

"See this?" You asked him sweetly as you gestured towards yourself. Lo'ak watched you run your fingers over your breasts (which were now covered in all sorts of marks left by him), down your stomach to your thighs, and finally back up to your core that was currently clamping down on his shaft. "You'll never have any of it..."

Those words startled him.

"And you'll—never—have—me, Lo'ak Sully." You punctuated each segment of that scathing sentence with a roll of your hips. Your words cut Lo'ak deeper than he'd ever been, all the while the sight and feel of your body on top of him kept knocking the air out of his lungs.

Lo'ak listened to you cry out from the pleasure of the two of you reaching your peak at the same time, meanwhile, a feeling of dread began to settle over him. You languidly let yourself rest across his chest, leaning down to leave a trail of soft kisses across his face that he was now desperately trying to commit to memory. "Don't... don't go..." Lo'ak mumbled, wanting to hold on to you for as long as he could.

But you were already fading from him. "Why should I stay? You hate me, remember?"

...💫...

Your voice was far away from him now. Instead, all the hateful things he'd said to you and about you during the years began to ring louder and louder in his mind, until finally, he woke up with a start.

"...I'm sorry." Lo'ak heard himself saying, as he woke up drenched in sweat, all the while sporting the most uncomfortable erection he'd possibly woken up with in recent memory. Thankfully he'd spent the night in one of the hiding places the Sullys had built for themselves across the years away from the rest of the clan. He had no reason to think anyone else would be coming by there so early in the morning, so Lo'ak saw no harm in taking care of himself then and there.

If anyone else were to climb up the treehouse, Lo'ak was sure he'd be able to hear their movements in time to cover himself up. There was little risk involved, and he certainly couldn't walk back home sporting a boner.

Little did he know, you were still trudging through the forest, your thoughts once again plagued by his hurtful behaviour. You'd always liked Lo'ak, despite your better judgement. He'd always been abundantly clear about not wanting you around, yet your heart seemed to have a hard time accepting that. Recently, you'd thought that maybe it was time for you to start courting and be courted. To know what it really felt to be cared for the same way you'd cared for the younger Sully brother.

But that night you'd realised, your heart had been completely wasted on him and there was nothing you could do about it.

Suddenly, your acute hearing picked up some ragged breathing coming from way up in the trees, and you were snapped out of your reverie. It was one of your people, and they sounded like they were hurt. You couldn't ignore it, especially since nobody should have been that far away from Home Tree after the eclipse.

Pushing your sadness to the side, to quickly climbed up the tree where you could hear the pained moans coming from. The closer you got to the top, you began to recognise the voice as Lo'ak's. Of course he'd gotten himself in trouble at that time of night. The adrenaline rushing through you made you perform a couple more reckless jumps until you finally found yourself outside of a hut built in the middle of the branches.

You rushed inside, worry written all over your tear stained face. "Lo'ak! Are you —"

The scene you were met with was a far cry from anything you'd been imagining until that point. Your eyes were perfectly capable of seeing in the dark, and there was no mistaking what was happening. Lo'ak's five fingered hand was wrapped around his... his... well, you knew what it was called, you'd just never seen one before...

The shameless act brought colour and heat to your face. Lo'ak had looked completely feral in that moment, and now the cries you'd been hearing took on a whole different meaning. The second he saw you, his pupils widened almost comically, and he quickly attempted to cover his arousal back underneath his loincloth, but the hard outline of it was still there, completely unaffected by your sudden appearance.

"[ ]" Lo'ak called your name as you began to turn your heal and run away from what you'd just seen. You couldn't deal with the way the sight of him naked and pleasuring himself made you feel, not after the way he'd treated you a couple hours prior.

You were about to jump down from and incredibly tall branch without even checking your landing, when a pair of strong arms wrapped around your middle to keep you from doing something utterly stupid. "Just what do you think you're doing?" It would have sounded like his usual rude self, if it wasn't for the soft tone and the clear concern in his voice.

"N-none of your business..." You struggled against him weakly. "Let me go, Lo'ak..." Lo'ak didn't even have that good of a hold on you, he was trying his best to keep his excitement angled away from you. You looked mortified, and he felt beyond ashamed that he'd been touching himself while thinking of you, when clearly you despised him. And with good reason.

"Forgive me, [ ]. Please forgive me." Lo'ak begged you. The words sounded so foreign coming from him. He didn't even apologise to his family most of the time. "I... never meant for you to see..."

Your ears lowered in understanding. Lo'ak wasn't apologising for his behaviour, just for the dishevelled state he'd put you in now. "It's fine..." You breathed out, relaxing a little bit in his hold. "I just... I thought you were hurt..."

Lo'ak couldn't deny the sincerity of your words, nor would he ever forget how worried you'd looked as you'd barged into his tent. He didn't deserve any of your care and attention, yet you kept giving it to him despite his brutish behaviour.

"You were crying..." He blurted out suddenly, seeing the tear streaks on your face and the redness in your eyes now that you were so close. Lo'ak thought back to the way the two of you had parted ways. Only he could come to the realisation he had feelings for someone just after bringing them to tears. "I... I made you cry..."

You didn't want to answer Lo'ak, and suddenly the need to get away from him became much stronger. It was humiliting, and you knew he'd realise soon how badly you had it for him. "Lo'ak... please... " You didn't know if you were asking for. To be let go? To somehow have this pain taken away from you?

Lo'ak didn't let you go however, and he decided he wouldn't, not until you calmed down. His hold wasn't forceful, you could have pulled away from him if you really wanted to. Instead, he was holding you like you were the most precious thing to him in the world. His hands began to caress your skin gently, all the while he was crooning soft apologies to you. It made you melt against him almost too easily, clinging to him while your breathing began to settle down.

To the back of your mind, a nagging thought began to grow. "Is... is this your way of playing a prank on me?" You asked, your words breaking Lo'ak's heart. Finally, he'd found away to be with you without reflecting the negativity inside of him onto you, but of course you didn't trust him.

Lo'ak was the one trying to fight back tears now. He looked angry, distraught even, as his face twisted into a side of him you'd never seen before. "Of course you'd think that..." He said, taking a step back from you. "What have I ever shown you if not hatred over the years...? I'm so much of a loser and a fuck up, why wouldn't you think I'd try to trick you when you're this vulnerable?"

"Lo'ak —" You tried to stop him from being self-deprecating, which hurt you more than anything.

"But what choice did I have?" He snapped back, his voice filled with grief. "You were always off with Kiri or Neteyam when we were kids. And that was fine, I could never live up to my siblings anyway. But then... everyone in the clan started to understand... how goddamm perfect you are... and I knew, I would never be enough for you... I would have brought you nothing but shame... so, so I had to shut you out. I had to make you understand how big of a disappointment I really am to everyone around me..." Lo'ak took a glance at his demon hands, a constant reminder of how sick his longing for [ ] truly was. Someone like him was meant to end up alone.

Lo'ak's words almost broke you. The realisation he longed for you just as much as you did, was unfortunately overtaken by the pain you felt for him. You didn't want him to believe these things he'd clearly been telling himself for years. Those thoughts of his had kept him away from you for too long.

You threw your arms around his neck, holding him so tight you would have cut his circulation off if he wasn't much stronger than you. "You... complete and... utter skxawng..." you reprimanded him. "I never want to hear you say those things about yourself again. What you are, Lo'ak Sully, is a moron, nothing more." Lo'ak gave you a little grin through his tears. "Because I have always been yours... and you never saw it."

Hearing those words leave your lips almost made Lo'ak's knees give out from under him. Afraid it was all just a dream, a sudden need to feel you and brand his touch onto you overcame him.

Lo'ak ran his nose against your cheek a little before capturing your lips into a searing kiss. You arched into him, letting out a soft mewl at the heated contact you'd never experienced before. It didn't take long for the two of you to retreat back into Lo'ak's hideout, and only then did he pull away from you.

"J-just... gimme a sec..." He said nervously. You were a little dazed from your shared kiss, and both of you were starved for more. Lo'ak was doing his best to create a comfortable spot for the two of you to rest on, and you couldn't help but giggle at how cute it was. You walked over to where he was fretting, laying down and pulling him down with you.

It wasn't uncommon for Na'vi your age to mess around before bonding, even outside of an official courtship. However neither of you had ever wanted or even contemplated having fun with someone else. So you were both completely inexperienced. That didn't stop Lo'ak from doing to you all the things he'd been dreaming about for years.

Once he'd made sure you were comfortable, he began to worship every single part of you, committing every single inch of your skin to memory. The little sobs you let out when he started playing with your breasts, had him teasing you relentlessly until you were in tears. "L-Lo'ak... I'm sensitive there... please...!" You didn't know whether you were beginning him to stop or keep going.

He absolutely loved having you at his mercy in that way, but the sweet scent of your arousal had him finally relenting as he directed his attention to your glistening cunt. "Look at you, what a pretty little syulang, huh?" Lo'ak licked a stripe up your slit without as much as a warning, making you moan and tug at his braids. His eyes were completely transfixed by the sight of you, letting his fingers pet you gently at first. "I hope you know, your little syulang is all mine now... I don't plan on sharing you with anybody else." He growled possessively, before burying his face between your thighs to drink down the sweet nectar you couldn't seem to stop producing. "Y-yes... Lo'ak... all yours..." you whined softly, fully losing yourself into the pleasure he was so adamant to give you.

You were so foreign to the feeling of an orgasm approaching, you ended up squirting all over Lo'ak face. When he pulled away to look up at you with fully blown pupils, you were completely mortified at what just happened. You tried to pull away and apologise, but Lo'ak didn't let you second guess yourself for a second. He'd never been more turned on in his life. "No way, baby... can't have you saying that... this pretty little cunt deserves all the praise and care in the world... now stay still, I'm not finished..."

He lapped up all the slick that had been running down your thighs before attaching his lips to your folds once again. Soon, you were begging for him to claim you. All of you. While Lo'ak had been painfully hard the whole time, he hadn't thought about his own pleasure for a single second until then. His hands and even his sex were different to the ones of other Na'vi. He was afraid of disappointing you again, of not being up to the standard of what you needed.

"Lo'ak, please... I don't want you to take care of it by yourself..." you crawled over to him now, your shyness almost gone while his own insecurities were back. He let out a deep croon, holding you tight as you sat in his lap, your back against his chest. You tilted your head to the side so he could kiss and mark up you neck, all the while the two of you were rutting against each other. "You're already taking care of me..." He reassured you, but you still positioned yourself to line yourself up with his cock.

Lo'ak bit into your shoulder then, the feeling of your tight walls awakening a feral need to claim and breed inside of him. You were so small, you were struggling to even take him more than halfway, but Lo'ak was there to reassure you everything was perfect, you were perfect. "You're doing such a good job, yawne... fuck, fuck, fuck.... you're just so tight aren't you? Gonna have to ruin that cunt nice and proper first, if I you want to take me all the way..."

"Yes, Lo... I need it..." Lo'ak's words had you completely dumb and needy for him, and the two of you had just lost any semblance of self control you may have had until that point.

Your sweet and pliable nature give Lo'ak an immense sense of power and control over you. While it was undeniably hot to watch you struggle to take in the size of him, it was time to give both of you what you wanted. He gripped your hips tight and pulled almost all the way out before driving himself back in, loving the obscene sound of your wet walls dragging against him. You cried out his name, as he repeated the harsh motion, steadily driving himself deeper and deeper inside of you.

The two of you went at it for the entirety of the eclipse. The desire you had for each other was so desperate, the promise of feeling each other's pleasure once more was stronger than any ache in your body or sense of tiredness.

Waking up the following morning, you still felt the need for Lo'ak to mate you before the two of you had to once again go back to reality. This time, you finally managed to take him all the way and he thrust into you in one swift motion. The two of you were outside in the sunlight, your body trapped between Lo'ak's and the rough bark of the tree he'd pinned you against.

"Good girl... such a good girl... knew you could take me all the way..." Lo'ak praised you, pounding your raw and sensitive cunt, now able to make you feel every single inch of him. The pleasure was indescribable, even if you were overstimulated and sore from the previous night. You were calling out him name and begging him not to stop.

Unbeknownst to you, he'd dreamed about having you exactly like that the previous night.

[nobodysdaydreams]

For my Wolf359 fans: I have an earth shattering theory about Blessie! 🪴 (Specimen 34)

As many have deduced from my recent poll, Blessie has become my favorite character in Wolf359. And as typically happens when I hyperfixate, the brain bees have activated, leading me to a groundbreaking theory about Blessie (trust me guys this is important).

So in my last reaction post during the episode where Mincowski hunts the plant, Hilbert doesn’t get a chance to say what species he mixed to create specimen 34. He makes guesses about the plant’s behavior based on how the species that he used to create the plant act (though he never names what they are), but doesn’t offer any more information than that. However, we know Blessie is intelligent and capable of understanding human speech, which means one of the species that it was created from was likely an intelligent life form; thus, Hilbert would need the DNA of an intelligent life form to make it.

And since the only intelligent life forms around for miles around are the humans on the station, it stands to reason that one of them is (technically) one of Blessie’s parents. But who?

Well, we know that Blessie, despite only being conscious for a few hours/days/weeks is resourceful, good at hiding out, and its first move was to take command of the ship and disable Hilbert (who it called “The Oppressor”). Once the plant discovered the other humans had locked Hilbert (“The Oppressor”) away after he betrayed them, it stopped attacking them and only reacted in self defense, refusing to kill Minkowski even when she wanted it dead. So the plant is instinctually trained for battle but also seems to follow an ethical code.

My conclusion? Specimen 34 was created in part with DNA from Reneé Minkowski. Which makes her conversation with Hilbert where she cuts him off before he can tell her what the “parent species” of Blessie actually are even more ironic.

Feel free to comment on the theory if you’d like. However, please don’t add spoilers to this post! I’m still listening to Season 2. If you want to follow my reactions or look up the ones I’ve already posted, you can do so by following the “#bods wolf359 reactions” tag or by following this blog.

UPDATE: I finished Wolf359 and wrote a fic on about this:

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading roundup: April 2024

oh my god you guys I've read SO MUCH this month!!! I got BIG into reread N.K. Jemisin's tremendous Broken Earth trilogy and it's been jaw-dropping, and I have been reading a HEAP of comics and manga a

on the extremely off chance there's anyone following me who doesn't think comics, manga, graphic novels, etc don't count as "real reading" lmao lol get out of here??? you're on the Reading 1000s of Pages of Old Batman Comics blog. go feel the whimsy of reading a whole graphic novel in one afternoon and maybe you'll calm down.

ANYWAY!!! what have we been reading?

Earthdivers Vol. 1: Kill Columbus (Stephen Graham Jones, Davide Gianfelice, Joana Lafuente, 2023) - Stephen Graham Jones is one of my all-time favorite authors, and I was super excited to check out his first comic series. Earthdivers takes place in the wasteland of the 22nd century, where four Native survivors have hatched a plan to try to stop the disasters that are killing the world: use a time-travelling cave to send one of their number back in time to kill Columbus before he can launch the colonization of North America. it's a one-way trip, and the time traveler will have to be ruthless to achieve their goal. beyond the attention-grabbing hook of killing Columbus, this story dives (you see what I did there) deep into an exploration of what it means to sacrifice everything for a cause and find the will to be ruthless in pursuit of the greater good. I'm not 100% sure I tracked all of the twisting threads of time travel in this first volume, but the hook is compelling and Gianfelice's art is beautiful, so I'm really looking forward to seeing the series progress!

Spoiler Alert (Olivia Dade, 2020) - at this point I've written 8000+ words about this book on my patreon and it's becoming difficult to figure out what else to say or how to say it briefly. this book ties itself up in knots with its contrivances and makes both of its protagonists look dumb in the process. I don't like either of these people but - spoiler alert! - I still think April can and should do better. Olivia Dade please call me I just want to talk.

Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 1-3 (Ryoko Kui, trans. Yen Press, 2017) - I don't need to explain Dungeon Meshi. surely you've seen the gifs of Dungeon Meshi. all that matters is that I fucking love Dungeon Meshi, this shit rules and it's going to be so hard to hold off on reading Volume 4 while I try to prioritize some other books first. this world is great, the characters are a delight and a joy, and the way that Kui is so fascinated by the food and biology and exploration of adventurer fantasy tropes in her world makes my brain go wheeeeeeeeee!!! I'm having so much fun.

The Fifth Season (N.K. Jemisin, 2015) - historically I've very seldom reread books, but I'm starting to think that I need to change my stance on that. revisiting the Fifth Season years after I first read it, with the time to really enjoy it and also the maturity and perspective to actually appreciate what Jemisin is cooking, has enhanced the experience immeasurably. a thing that really struck me this time was how artfully Jemisin depicts the way orogenes are conditioned and groomed from the jump to be subservient and scared and willing to settle for life at the margins of society; it's not something that I could totally understand the nuances of when I read this book fresh out of my first year of college. this novel and its sequels are so brilliantly devastating, I cannot say enough great things about them.

My Pancreas Broke, But My Life Got Better (Nagata Kabi, trans. Jocelyne Allen 2022) - I did it, I'm officially caught up on all of Nagata's works that have been translated into English! and man, I'm still worried about her. the experience of reading My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness hasn't quite been replicated for me; I think that was a once in a lifetime event, although I've certainly found a lot that I relate to in Nagata's subsequent struggles to sort of out anxiety, independence, art, and figuring out what kind of relationships she event wants to have in her life. at this point I feel like I'm just reading the illustrated life updates from a friend I haven't seen in a long time who stresses me out because her life is a mess. which is still interesting! but god I hope something good happens to this woman soon.

The Obelisk Gate (N.K. Jemisin, 2016) - The Fifth Season is a book about the end of the world and of one woman's personal apocalypses that happened prior to that. its sequel, the Obelisk Gate, is a book that's extremely preoccupied with the tedium of figuring out how to run a halfway-functioning society in the midst of the apocalypse, which is genuinely fascinating stuff. and it's also a book about the fear and desperation and sheer levels of exhaustion that might drive someone to decide that, fuck it, maybe the world should end and we should be done with all of this, actually. it's also a book about devotion and dependence and destruction and devouring people you love in a VERY literal way, which it must be said is pretty sexy. the stuff that pops off between Essun and Hoa in this book makes me think of Octavia Butler in the best way; I think she would have adored them. I'm so excited to get to the final book and see how this all pays off, because the first time I read it I barely understood a single goddamn thing that was happening.

I Hate This Place Vol. 1-2 (Kyle Starks, Artyom Toplin, Lee Loughridge, 2022-2023) - a short and spooky comic series that wraps up in two tight little volumes. I have some gripes with the pacing, but it makes for a fun afternoon read. a mid-tier streaming service is going to adapt this into a live action series within a couple of years, mark my worms. personally I'm fancasting Mackenzie Davis as Gabby and Samira Wiley as Trudy.