#(on each half. there are 2 sandwiches)

[b-blushes]

good god this sandwich fucks

[murderofravens]

BABY, I'M RIGHT HERE

pairing: hwang inho/young-il/frontman x fem reader

part: 2/3 [finished]

warnings: large age gap (20 vs late 40s) angst. slow burn. slight infantilization. no use of y/n. codependency. obsession from both sides. unhealthy dynamics. plot with porn. fingering. oral fixation. brat tamer inho. sub!reader. reader is very touch starved. a little yandere vibes. emotional manipulation. i made him very fatherly but toxic oops.

summary: he promised that you will make it out alive. he will make sure of it, no matter what it takes.

word count: 8k more or less

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

please ignore mistakes.

you can't remember half of it. everything happened so quickly— your little moment of bliss shattered by 388's quick warning. the lights went out. one moment you were in young-il's arms, the next he was dragging you down towards 456, who was hiding under another bed. he shifted to make room for you and you crawled to his side. young-il followed.

"stay quiet," 456 whispered, looking around. not much was visible in the dark, but soon enough, the loud noise of bottles shattering and people screaming began echoing through the hall.

"they're killing each other—" you whisper, eyes wide. you shift slightly, raising your head. you try to sit up. "they're killing our side of the people—"

young-il halted your movements with a hand on your arm, "don't move." he hissed. "we can't leave till the guards come in."

"what?" you snap, voice hushed, "if they kill all our people, what's gonna happen in the next vote? we'll lose!"

"there won't be a next vote," 456 added, flinching slightly at another sharp cry. he looked determined. "we're stopping this today."

you glanced at him, heartbroken. you looked out again, heartbeat picking up as you saw player 380 run away from nam-gyu. he was on her tail, visibly trying to kill her. a bottle lay there by the bed, and before young-il could stop you, you slid it out. nam-gyu tripped on it and fell on his face. luckily, it was too dark and he was too worked up to check who it was. you just hoped it gave player 380 enough time to hide.

young-il restrained you then, pushing you down slightly so you were fully sandwiched between him and 456, "don't compromise our position!"

"how much longer?" you whispered, ignoring him. you winced as more sounds of bones cracking and people choking on their own blood took over the entire room. neither of them answered, but even 456 jumped a little as the body of one of the girls on your side fell to the floor.

your eyes widened as the girl's eyes met yours, and then she sputtered out blood before laying there, lifeless.

"don't look." young-il voiced out, craning his neck down to meet your gaze. he clenched his jaw, settling you with a cold glare, "look at me."

"you should've told me this was the plan," you hissed through gritted teeth, squinting as the flashing of lights overwhelmed your senses, "would you be okay if that was m—mphh!"

he put a finger to your lips, shaking slightly as he gave you another warning glare. 456 watched with bated breath, as if counting all the people dying.

the lights go off again, and the room remains dark. only the noises of people fighting can be heard.

"time to move," 456 tells young-il, who nods and begins shifting out of the bed. you follow along, but he pushes you back in, "don't get out until i tell you."

"what?" you frown, confused. your words are quick, "you expect me to hide here while you go out there to do god knows what—

as you speak, young-il grits his teeth, frustrated. he's desperate as he grabs your shoulders. he glances back, makes sure no one sees before silencing you with a kiss. it leaves you breathless. he cups your face and looks into your eyes intensely, "don't get out until i tell you to." his voice is urgent, "close your eyes, put your hands to your ears. trust me, and listen to me for once."

you blink rapidly before nodding, still a little out of it. you don't think you'll ever get used to how good kissing him feels. you wish you could feel it again and again, under better circumstances.

456 hisses for young-il, and he pats your head before rushing away as soon as the doors open. the guards come in, rapidly firing their machine guns towards the ceiling, stopping the fight. you watch carefully, heart dropping to your stomach as young-il and 456 lay there, as if dead, along with 390 and 388. you almost rush out to check on them, but young-il's previous words hold you back. you watch as the guards start putting those devices to the dead bodies' ears, and when they reach your team members, 456 suddenly attacks. the rest of the team similarly manages to take their guns away, and kill the remaining guards. you almost jump out of your skin as a firing match starts— and young-il and player 120 skillfully kill most of them. you look on with bated breath, flinching as the guards fall to the floors. you begin to get out from under the bed, panting. one of the guards was still hiding, and he immediately aimed the gun at you. before you could move, young-il shoots him dead.

you look around the room, swallowing the lump in your throat at the sight of all the dead bodies. so many people with hopes and dreams. people with families, laying there, lifeless. cautiously, you looked around with purpose, before your eyes fell on player 380's body.

she couldn't hide.

you look away, sweat rolling down the side of your head. you clench your jaw and glare at the other team, eyes narrowing with resentment as you catch sight of nam-gyu. swallowing hard, you walk past the bodies, careful not to step on them. your eyes fell on your team members gathering the guards' weapons.

so this was the plan. you frown, rushing forward to help them. the guns are heavy, but you manage to place many of them along with some ammo on the bedsheet laying there.

456 announces the plan— something about capturing the ones who captured them all, and going to their headquarters to make them pay. you shift your gaze to young-il, who stares ahead blankly, as if thinking hard. you wonder if he's scared.

"anyone who knows how to use guns and wishes to join us—" 456 calls out, "please step forward!"

the players are silent, frozen. cowards, you think to yourself. you step forward immediately, and young-il's face hardens so dramatically, it almost makes you laugh. he takes a step towards you, "absolutely not!" he snaps, "stay right there."

"you need all the help you can get!" you argue back sharply. you point an accusatory finger at player 100 and his team. "don't you see? even these so called tough guys aren't willing to go with you! don't put your trust in these people, i can help more than they can! my aim's great!"

while you talk, young-il pinches the bridge of his nose, calls your name again gruffly. a warning.

"don't drag us into this!" player 100 interrupts angrily, his lip curling with disgust. "this is madness! you don't stand a chance against them!"

you quite literally snarl as you rush towards him, jabbing a finger to his chest. it makes him stumble backwards, "you had no issue with risking our lives and your own for money, but standing up to those who caught you is where you draw the line?" you glower at him, scoff at the rest of his team. to emphasize your point, you gather saliva in your mouth, spit it by his shoe. "fucking pussy !"

young-il quite literally snatches you away by the collar of your jacket before the other team can do anything. it's a little baffling how swiftly he moves, even while carrying such a big gun. he takes you to your side of the bunker, shoves you onto the bed, "don't make me tie you up." he grunts threateningly, "you are not going and that's final. you're built like a bird, you won't stand a chance against armed guards. i refuse to watch you get killed."

456 calls out for you, voice soft but urgent, "it's best if you stay here. we won't be able to focus if he's— if we're worried about you."

you grit your teeth as you scowl at young-il with glassy eyes. they're tears of anger. you want to scream at him. you want to pull him towards you and never let him go. you look at your team, watch with longing as player 120 guides them on how to use their guns. she's brave and badass, it makes you want to be like her.

"and you're okay with getting killed?" you drift your attention back to young-il, voice cracking. "what am i supposed to do if something happens to you?"

young-il sighs, gaze softening as he kneels before you . your lips wobble as you glare daggers at him, eyes narrowed. he shakes his head, "i'll come back to you alive."

you scoff bitterly. "how can you be so sure?"

"i just am."

"promise me." you hold your pinky up, clenching your jaw as you stare at him intensely, "promise me you won't die. promise me you'll come back for me."

he looks at your pinky, and then at you. you've always found him harder to read than other people. but you see reluctance in his eyes. he sighs, before raising his own pinky, joining it with yours. the contrast between your hands would've been comical if you were not in this shithole. he gives you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"i promise."

you can hear player 100 yelling at his team, clearly talking shit about you. you look over young-il's shoulder, and he glances at the old man too before turning to you knowingly.

"don't get in any trouble while i'm gone." he whispers softly. he reaches behind his back. "and just in case— i want you to have this."

it's a pistol. he probably took it from one of the dead guards. your eyes widen and you look at young-il. he teaches you how to unload it, and reload it, and how to work the safety, before placing it in your palm. your gaze never leaves his face. questioning.

"you've made enemies here," he explains, as if it's obvious, "if any of the men there try anything—"

"you want me to kill them?" you quirk an eyebrow.

his mouth curls into a smirk, "i want you to be safe."

he gets up, and as player 100 looks at you again, you jokingly aim the gun towards him. he jumps back in fear, stumbling into the younger men at his side. you chuckle, and young-il lowers your hand. "behave."

it makes your heart jump.

"why does that kid get a gun and we don't?!" one of the younger men yells. young-il ignores him.

you grin at him almost childishly. he shakes his head before addressing 149— the old lady who got here with her son.

"don't let her leave," he tells her, giving you a stern, sidelong glance. you roll your eyes.

before he can leave, you grab his hand and look at him intensely. you can only hope your eyes can convey what you can't verbally, not in front of people. for his sake.

"be careful." you decide to say, voice cracking. you memorize every feature of his face, with only one thought in your mind.

you're not allowed to leave me.

he nods, looking away before walking to his team. you yell at them too, telling them to be careful and watch as they carefully exit. you look on with longing as you watch them go, before glancing down at the gun in your hand, and then at the door again. soon enough, you can hear the faint sounds of guns firing. it makes you jump, but player 149 puts a hand on your shoulder, comfortingly guiding you to sit beside her.

you almost contemplate rushing out, what would these people even do? stop you? you have a gun in your hand, although you wouldn't want to pull it on 149. she's a good lady. people are already scared. you don't want to make it worse.

so you stay, and hope that young-il keeps his promise. pinky promises are sacred. you either keep them, or you die.

you decide that if he dies, you'll just bring him back to life somehow and kill him again.

you don't remember how long you wait. multiple times, you stand up and pace around the room. agitated, scared. every gunshot has you looking at the door again and again, hoping that somehow young-il will decide to burst through it. 149 tells you to be calm, tries to distract you with your life outside the games. it doesn't work.

thankfully, the pistol in your hand had scared the other team enough to not try anything with you. they talk within themselves, trying to busy themselves with conversations and anxiously bouncing their legs as they look at the ceiling. you wonder how they can be so calm after killing your team.

"you people are cowards." you say to no one in particular. the message hits the target though, because the ones who weren't willing to go and help shift uncomfortably.

"you'd rather die losing to a stupid game instead of a noble death trying to help people," you chide, chuckling bitterly. 149 tries to stop you from talking, but you shrug her words off with a shake of your head. you stand up and face the other team again. "it's shameful. you had no problem killing others who were in the same position as you, but your oppressors is where you decide to stop?" you gesture towards the dead bodies. the sight of blood doesn't make you squeamish anymore. it just makes you sad.

"these people died because you wanted to keep playing." you hiss, "you killed them."

the people on the other side don't respond, instead lowering their gaze to the floor. you look at nam-gyu sitting on the side, fiddling with something. you want to kill him. you want to kill everyone who stopped you from going home, who became the reason more innocent people died. your morals are a bit fucked, you think, but you're okay with it. people who do bad things deserve to die. you raise the gun, aim it at player 100. he flinches, and sits straight up, raising his hands. his team members shuffle away from him, and it makes you snicker. when he's on death's door, they abandon him. "have you gone crazy!?"

"game or no game, you were meant to die." you clench your jaw, your mouth twitching. "shall i kill you, old man?"

you don't get to pull the trigger. you're interrupted by player 388 rushing inside, panicked and covered in blood. your eyes widen, and you go straight to him, grabbing his shoulders. he looks shaken up, "what happened? where's 001? is he okay? did you find—"

"gather all the remaining ammo," he says shakily, fumbling over his words, "we ran out. i need to take some back."

you nod, and 149's son comes to help you check the dead guards' gear and gather the remaining ammunition. 388 wraps it up in a jacket, and rushes to the door, before suddenly stopping. you pause, looking at him, sweat breaking out across your skin. there's a bad feeling in your stomach. "what's wrong? aren't you going?"

he doesn't respond. you can't see his face because his back is turned to you. a moment passes and you step forward cautiously. he drops the walkie talkie, and your eyes fall to the floor where it lands— where you can hear the voice of player 120 asking where he is. they have no ammo.

"i can't do it." 388 whispers, shaking. he rushes back to his bed, drops the little makeshift bag full of ammo and cowers into himself. your eyes widen. you look at the walkie talkie, and back to him. if they don't get ammo soon, they're going to die. you rush to the bed, shoot 388 a frown— you consider comforting him, but you have another priority now. you grab the bundle and turn to leave.

149 runs after you along with a few others, pulling you by the sleeve of your jacket. she's trembling with worry. "your father told me not to let you leave—"

amidst the chaos, you let out a chuckle.

"he's not my father," you reply, yanking your jacket from her grip and composing yourself. the sentence would've had you cackling in a better situation. you can't wait to tell young-il about it. you can understand why she'd think so, even though you and young-il look literally nothing alike. the opposite, really. he's like a father in spirit.

your face hardens and you address the crowd. "they need help. is anyone gonna come with me?”

nobody moves. you scoff bitterly. predictable.

149 looks at you helplessly, pushes her son to grab you. when he advances towards you, you pull out the gun and hold it to his head, eyes crazed as you pull the safety. you warn him dangerously, "step back."

he raises his hands and steps back, lowering his gaze. holding the bundle to your chest, you walk backwards, aiming the gun to both sides of the room and ensuring no one grabs you. you look at 149, meet her crushed gaze and mouth an 'im sorry' to her before running out as fast as you can.

you're quite sure you got lost. you're running as fast as you can, trying to follow the sounds of the gunshots, and looking for any bullet holes or signs of struggle. you look up and see broken cameras, and recall 120 shooting them back in the hall. you follow them until one of the red guards encounters you, immediately raising his gun. he's slow, infuriatingly so— but it doesn't matter because in your panicked haze, you shoot him in the stomach, then rush forward and kick his gun away before running off.

you can see your team. you let out a breath of relief, and as soon as 120 meets your gaze, she gasps. you shake your head and quickly slide over to her, giving her the rest of the ammunition. she quickly reloads, and you toss the rest to the other players, before looking around frantically, flinching at the gunshots. "where's 001 and 456?" you ask her.

"control room!" she points towards the end of the hallway, and you nod before advancing. she tries to protest but you're quicker, and she's preoccupied with firing. luckily, the guards never seem to fire at you.

there are two sides. you hesitate, before finally taking the left one where you just heard two gunshots. you quickly rush forward, pistol held protectively. the whole area looks like some sort of purple maze, and you're wary as you walk, scared that a guard might jump out and shoot you.

finally, you see your young-il's back. he's crouching on the floor, looking at a dying player. the relief you feel is baffling. your eyes widen, and you call out his name. "young-il sir!"

he tenses, turning back so fast that you worry he'd get a whiplash. visibly stressed, he rushes towards you, shaking his head, "no— no, no, no, no, no, what are you doing here!”

you run towards him, almost tripping on the stairs. he grabs your shoulders, shakes you aggressively, "i told you not to fucking leave!"

you almost flinch at his tone. it's strange to see him swear. you answer him shakily, panting, "they— they ran out of ammo, i couldn't leave you!"

he looks upset and shaken up, clenching his jaw as he pinches the bridge of his nose, mumbling incoherently to himself. you turn towards the dying player, your expression pained. he tries to point at something, but you don't understand what. you kneel towards him, and his hand falls down. his croaking stops.

suddenly, you hear the footsteps of guards heading towards you. before you can move, you're surrounded. you hold onto your gun, shaking as you quickly stand up. you swallow hard, unblinking as they aim their guns at you.

that’s when you notice it.

they're aiming at only you, and not young-il. it makes you feel strange.

you look at him, and he's taking sharp breaths, as if trying to compose himself. or trying not to scream with rage. it's odd, how relaxed he looks. tense in the face, but relaxed in the way that he didn't take an offensive stance, or feel surprised at the sight of the guards. you frown in confusion, before he flicks his hand. the guards lower their guns.

you blink a few times, swallowing the lump in your throat, dread settling in your stomach. you look at the guards, then at young-il, who refuses to meet your gaze. you repeat the action.

guards. young-il. guards. young-il. then the players on the floor. then back at young-il's face. and it takes you a moment, but the realization sets in.

the guard letting you go to the restroom when young-il was by your side, him conveniently appearing to save you when you went exploring, him walking with that air of authority. how the guards never seemed to look at him too long. how easily he killed the man during mingle without a second thought. how one look from him had the guard lowering his gun during voting. how he was sure he wouldn't die. things that you never should've looked over.

you step back, your breathing getting ragged as you slowly raise your gun towards young-il. the guards point their guns at you again, ready to shoot. he stops them by raising his hand in warning. he clenches his jaw, his eyes unreadable and guarded.

"who are you." you demand tightly. your voice shakes pathetically, it makes you wince. you've never been this scared of anything in your life. not even the games.

"it doesn't have to be this way." he says quietly. his voice seems different, deeper. gravely. he holds his hand out to you in what he hopes is a comforting fashion. "put the gun down."

you step back, putting your finger on the trigger, just the way he taught you. ‘i want you to be safe,’ he'd said.

"i asked you a fucking question!" you yell, voice cracking. your gun feels slippery in your hands. it almost falls. you fumble trying to keep a tight grip on it. all this time, the prospect of death felt a little comforting with the idea that you'd have young-il by your side if it happened. but now, it just terrifies you. it looks bleak.

you sniffle, lips wobbling as fresh tears roll down your cheeks. you were always fucking unlucky. the first time you like a man this much, he turns out to be the bad guy. you feel utterly pathetic and terrified.

his eyes dart all over your panicked face before he gestures towards one of the guards, who raises his gun. there's a flash of guilt in his eyes that you can't miss. it makes your blood freeze. you refuse to die alone.

you straighten your aim towards young-il and pull the trigger. two gunshots ring out, and you don't get the time to react before something stings your chest, and you fall to the ground.

your vision goes black.

there are no dreams, no last memories. no flashes of your life. there's this heaviness in your chest, like someone is suffocating you.

you wake up with a startled gasp, sitting up immediately. your vision looks blurry, but with a few blinks you can make out a room. a lavish room with a closed window on the side. you frown in confusion, before putting your hand to your chest. there's no bleeding, no pain except the one in your muscles.

you swallow hard, your throat feeling dry. for a moment you wonder if it was all a dream, but when you try to move, you realize your right hand is chained to the side of the bed— with those strong black straps with locks that they used in the second game. you pull at it a few times, breathing getting heavy as you look down on yourself. your bloodied green jersey has been replaced by a comfortable pair of pink pyjamas that cover your arms and legs. you raise your hand to your head, and there's a small bandage on the right side of your face that you remember previously scratching in the bathroom.

you struggle a little, try to look for a way to unlock the straps, but it's like the room is purposely empty. absolutely no sharp or heavy objects to help you escape. like a prison cell.

you think of young-il. is he dead? you remember pulling the trigger. you knew the risk that came with aiming the gun at him when you were surrounded by guards— you just had this thought that if you were going to die, you would drag him with you. he won't get to live after what he'd done.

you don't get to brood about your thoughts for long, because the door opens and he steps inside— a man dressed in black, with a creepy mask. it makes you feel uneasy. you touch your chest again, look at him with a questioning gaze.

“it was just a tranquilizer.” he answers your silent question, voice distorted through the mask.

“is this really necessary?” you ask dryly, rattling the chain on your right hand.

“do you feel comfortable?” the man asks, gesturing towards your clothes.

you grit your teeth, “cut the bullshit. who are you?”

the man sighs, looking down, as if disappointed. he looks at you again before taking off the mask, and you feel like throwing up.

his hair looks different — slicked back with gel. his eyes look tired, even more so than back at the games. he looks more intimidating this way. you feel a strong urge to leap across the bed and ruffle his hair so he can look familiar again.

you have so much to say.

why did you do this? who the fuck are you? how are you still here, when i so clearly remember shooting you?

“you're alive,” you instead remark dryly. young-il gives you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

“your aim needs more practice,” he says quietly, patting his right shoulder. “barely grazed me.”

the idea of having hurt him almost makes your chest ache, but you remind yourself of who he is.

you sniffle, lips wobbling as you look at him. your dear young-il. who comforted you, protected you, held you and kissed you so dearly. he really made a fucking fool out of you.

“and what's all that for?” you tilt your head towards his hand. trying to put on a mask, just like him. a brave face.

he places the mask on the table, walks over to sit on the side of the bed. you flinch, moving away from him slightly.

he notices, and it hurts more than getting shot. he doesn't dare reveal that on his face.

“is your name even young-il?” you ask quietly, voice strained.

he shakes his head. you snort bitterly.

“i'm guessing you're the big boss then.” you remark flatly, looking around the room. forcing yourself to appear nonchalant. he wants to tell you to drop the act, because he can still hear your voice faltering.

he nods, “something like that. i design the games.”

you bite down on your lower lip to stop it from wobbling. nobody knows the strength it takes trying not to cry. you lower your gaze to your lap.

your next question is pathetic. you would expect yourself to scream and threaten him to let you go, but there's only one thing on your mind.

“was i a game to you too?” you ask quietly. you don't want to know the answer. perhaps you would've preferred it if he killed you.

he sighs, averting his gaze. he utters your name softly, and you feel like a weak woman because you still like the way he says it.

your voice almost waivers when you ask, “are you going to hurt me?”

he looks at you, blinks a few times before answering honestly. “don't make me.”

you hold back the urge to sob. your left hand comes up to clap over your mouth, and he looks away as you cower in on yourself. how can he say that, after covering your eyes and pulling you into him to ensure you didn't get scared by people getting killed? you wish there was atleast a lamp on the side table, maybe you could've cracked his skull to free yourself from this fear. and to take revenge for playing with your heart.

“you ruined everything.” he admits, voice growing tight. solemn. he clenches his jaw, mouth twitching with barely disguised anger. “i went into the games because of gi-hun, to make sure he doesn't stop the game. and then ended up paying more attention to you than him.”

you release a shaky breath, pulling your knees to your chest. your mouth twists with emotion. gi-hun. player 456. your eyes widen, heart leaping out of your throat.

“is he okay?” you ask, voice cracking with concern, “is he alive?”

his head snaps up— gaze hardening almost dramatically. his eye twitches, and he gives you a tight smile. it doesn't suit him because it's not the one you're familiar with. “are you worried about him?”

you glare at him, eyes narrowing.

“he’ll be fine.” he adds nonchalantly. his voice sounds different— cold in a way that makes goosebumps rise on your skin. “would you rather be with him than me?”

you snort bitterly, looking away with a roll of your eyes. he can't be fucking serious. he has the audacity to be jealous after what he's done to you. he is so unbelievably ridiculous.

“put me back in the game.” you hiss through gritted teeth.

“i can't do that.” he shakes his head, “you will die in there. you won't survive the next games. i made sure they get increasingly difficult—”

“i'll win!” you argue, “i’ll beat them all and win, stop treating me like a fucking child—”

“you are a fucking child compared to me!” he bellows, making you flinch. your gaze never falters as you grit your teeth, looking at him with all the rage you can muster. he grabs your jaw, squishing your cheeks so hard that your lips pucker. he would've kissed you if he wasn't so fucking angry. his voice is harsh as he continues, shaking your head. “you! are quite literally a baby compared to me and the others in there. they're ruthless animals who won't hesitate to rip you apart to win. you're going to die in there and i wouldn't be there to save you!”

his words have your stomach churning, because he's right. but that doesn't matter to you.

“since when do you care?!” you snap challengingly. your words come out muffled.

he glares back at you, his nostrils flaring with anger, “i wish i didn't care.” he hisses, voice low. hoarse. he leans towards you. “oh how desperately i wish i didn't care about you.”

your heart begins to race as you stare at him, dumbfounded, unable to speak. he looks into your eyes, then glances down at your lips, before making eye contact again. he lets go of your face and straightens up, composing himself.

“you almost ruined my entire plan.” his voice is collected, almost guarded. “you consume my every waking thought ever since i felt your head against my chest. do you know how many times i had to warn my guards not to shoot you? especially with how many times you kept crossing the line?”

your breath hitches, and you open your mouth to argue. he doesn't give you a moment to speak.

“i'm not sending you back in the games where you can die.” he continues darkly. he brings his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. the action is gentle— a stark contrast against what he previously did. the situation you're in, the kind of man he is. you blink at him, eyes teary. his gaze softens just slightly. “you made me promise not to abandon you. I don't plan to.”

“you're a sick man,” you whisper. you can't believe he's holding that against you— your promises from when he was deceiving you, “you designed those fucking games. you can stop them anytime you wanted. i got stuck here because of you, you killed all those innocent people. you're a sadistic, psychotic asshole—”

he shoots you a warning glare, pressing his hand against your mouth. “don’t test me, brat. ”

you sniffle, letting out a pained whimper. you push his hand off your mouth, “let me go.”

he looks unamused, “i can't do that.”

“were you not planning to leave me?” you try to reason with him, desperate. “when you left with the rest of the team? you wouldn't have come back after that—”

“i would've found a way to get you home.” he admits quietly. “i had a plan. but then you came running after me like the brat you are. you never listen.”

“then let me go now!” you protest heatedly. his words have your heart hurting. if that's true, then you're the one who sealed your fate. another impulsive decision ruined your life. “i told you about me. i told you about my mom! i miss her. she and my sister—" you almost choke on a sob as you croak the words out, the mere thought of them driving you to insanity, "they need me."

“i've settled your father's debt,” he mentions after a moment of silence, looking deeply into your eyes. he hopes it gives you some comfort, stops you from wanting to leave him. “you don't have to go back. they'll live a life of ease.”

your blood runs cold. that means he knows where they are.

“do you expect me to fucking thank you?” you can't hold back the tears rolling down your cheeks, shaking your head, “i wanna go home.” you sniffle, “you ruined our lives. you played with my feelings and my life. people are dead because of you. how can you say you'd have let me go home one moment, and then refuse it the next?”

"don't hurt them," you speak again, leaning forward almost pleadingly. perhaps you shouldn't piss him off. you're not the kind to beg for your life. but your family? now that's another thing. "please keep them out of this. dont hurt them, please."

"i won't," he says airily, his dark eyes deeply boring into yours, "not if you don't give me a reason to. just be good."

you sniffle, violently trembling. be good. you'll be good. for your family's sake.

his hands cup your face and you flinch. his thumbs brush the tears away. you avert your gaze. you can't meet his eyes— you resent him.

you resent yourself because his touch still makes you feel an odd sense of comfort.

"this is torture," you choke out, "why are you doing this to me?"

he says your name softly, guides your face up to look at him, “i’m selfish.” he admits. “the moments i spent with you.. was the happiest i've been in a… long, long time. i'm not ready to let go of that. ever. ”

he has lost everything. his wife, his baby. his brother. his humanity. only now he has control over his life, enough resources. he can change fate with a flick of his finger. he's not going to lose you, not after you've made him feel human again, for the first time in years. you've ripped open his ribcage and climbed inside, sealed it shut with your touch. he hasn't been needed by anyone like this— it gives him a sense of purpose. he doesn't trust himself to not lose his mind if you're ever out of his sight. he'll make sure you're by his side, where he can hold you and comfort you. whatever it takes.

you shake your head, lips wobbling. you try to pull away, your free hand coming up to hold onto his, to pry it off your face. he doesn't let up, instead climbing towards you and invading your personal space as he presses your foreheads together.

“i don't know about you kids, but in my time, pinky promises were a big deal,” he says lowly, the side of his mouth quirking up. he's trying to joke, he wants to see you smile again. the way you did when you looked at him— with stars in your eyes. like he's your hero. nothing else has ever made him feel more alive. “i’m afraid i can't let you go.”

you let out a shudder, squeezing your eyes shut as he pushes you till your back collides with the bed. you shake your head, voice tired. “just kill me.”

his face drops, and he looks at you coldly, “you think i'd have you here like this if i planned to kill you?”

you don't respond to that, your chest heaving. everything hurts. your head is pounding, and you feel faint.

his thumb brushes across your cheekbone. he looks at you tenderly, analyzing every feature of your face.

“you know, i really expected you to struggle harder against me.” he observes. the words make you feel embarrassed. your skin heats up with shame, and you clear your throat, looking anywhere but him.

he might be right, you think. you've struggled a little, yes, but he can tell you have the ability to be so much more insufferable. but you're not, not yet. it's fucked up. because even after everything, for some reason you can't seem to brush him off you. you can't seem to let go of the comfort and hope he provided you in one of the most terrifying moments of your life.

you convince yourself it's because your family's life is on the line. not because of your personal feelings.

you don't answer him. you don't have to either, because judging by the small smirk creeping on his face, he knows.

“i'll take care of you,” his face softens. he's trying to convince you. there's a desperate edge to his voice. you look so utterly beautiful to him— your complexion glowing even more because of the pink pyjamas he got for you. in that moment he makes a mental note of what color clothes he'd shower you in the most. “those people down there that you're so desperate to save? they would've thrown you under the bus to win. they don't care about you. i'll make sure you're safe. the life you were living before was worthless. let me look after you.”

“i hate you,” you whisper, voice cracking. another tear rolls down your cheek, and he wipes it away. you don't mean it. he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“i know.”

you don't get to speak again, because he tilts your head up and crashes his mouth onto yours in a bruising, punishing kiss. it makes you wince, and you choke on a soft sob. against your better judgement, you kiss him back.

the moment your mouth parts under his, he takes the chance to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding in. he moans into your mouth, holding your face as he climbs over you completely. you contemplate biting his tongue off, but you don't. as if reading your mind, his hand comes down to gently squeeze your throat— just enough to make you feel a little lightheaded. you gasp softly, eyes blinking dazedly at him. he pulls his mouth away, then places a soft peck upon your lips. then another. and another. you take greedy breaths as you squirm under him. his hand leaves your throat and slips under your top and you jolt at the feeling of his warm hands against your tummy. his mouth trails down, leaving soft kisses across the smooth skin of your neck.

“you’re sick.” you gasp shakily, throwing your head back, giving him more room to place his wet kisses upon you.

“you're the one letting a man like me touch you,” he whispers hoarsely against your neck, voice slightly teasing. “maybe you're just as sick as i am.”

his words make you shiver. you consider them, and you force yourself to think of all the people back there in the hall, ready to march to their deaths tomorrow. your eyes open and you snap out of your trance.

you use your free hand to push slightly at his chest, gaze pleading, “don't kill them,” you whisper. “let them go. atleast our team. they're good people—”

“are you really doing this?” the switch in his voice has you quivering slightly. his hand comes up, grabs your hair. it stings just slightly. a warning. "do you think they would've been this desperate to save you?"

you let out a noise of protest, looking at him helplessly. trying to touch a string of empathy within him. he has none, not anymore.

“they knew what they were getting themselves into. there's no favoritism. you either win, or die.”

your ears ring, heart pounding against your chest. “then what am i?”

he smirks, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip.

“you're my little girl.” he noses the side of your neck. goosebumps rise on your skin, “don't bring that up again.”

you grit your teeth, feeling even more remorseful. is there no way to change his mind? even being responsive to his affection doesn't help.

but you're not being docile to change his mind.

you realize you're pliant because you like being under him.

your logical side forces you to speak. your guilty conscience doesn't allow you to get too comfortable under a killer. "this feels wrong."

he stops, clenches his jaw with restrained anger. he squeezes his eyes shut, mentally counts from 1-10 to avoid doing anything he might regret later.

"let me make you an offer," he pulls back, cocking his head to the side. his eyes are unreadable, voice flat, "i'll let them go on one condition."

your eyes widen with hope, and you nod enthusiastically, eager for him to speak.

"with every player i leave alive—" a small smirk appears on his face, despite his best efforts to hide it. "i'll kill someone you love."

the way terror seized you was suffocating. your throat immediately felt dry, eyes widening with shock. you stared at him, motionless, images of your family, your friends, flashing through your head. his hand gently splayed across your stomach, pressing down a little.

"a life for a life." he announced again, giving you a tight lipped smile, "how does that sound?"

"no." you warned, clasping his wrist desperately with your free hand, breathing rapidly. "no— no. please don't. i'll— i'll stay with you. i'll do anything you say, just—" you held back a sob, "please don't hurt them."

in life threatening situations— people only look out for two types of people. themselves, and the ones dearest to them.

he smiled fully then, amused. predictable, he thinks, before leaning back down, "then conversation's over."

"you made the right choice," he whispered. you didn't bother struggling, squeezing your eyes shut. his hand pulls down your top just enough. his mouth quite literally waters as he bites down on your exposed skin, leaving cherry red bruises across your collarbones.

you have no choice, you tell yourself. it's okay to get comfortable now. you couldn't have done anything.

you mewl, and he slips two of his fingers in your mouth, watching intently with a hungry gaze as you suck on them enthusiastically— just like back in the hall. your eyes flutter, and you mumble incoherently as his fingers gently thrust in and out of your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. it’s messy and sloppy, and the sight of your saliva slipping down your chin makes him moan softly, “my pretty baby.”

you whimper as his hand slides down to your bottoms. you wait with bated breath as you look at him with hazy eyes. his hand slips down into your panties, and a desperate moan escapes your bruised lips.

“i just want to ruin you,” he chuckles breathlessly, teasing your entrance. he hovers over you, looks at you like a starving man as he pinches your clit. you yelp slightly. he taunts you, gaze full of faux innocence as he raises his eyebrows. “does it hurt, huh, sweetheart? do you want daddy to make you feel good?”

“oh fuck—” the moment that word comes out of his mouth, in his soft, breathy voice— you moan. you're pathetic. it's whiney and high pitched and so utterly desperate, it makes him proud to get a reaction like that out of you. and suddenly he understands a little more why you got so attached to him. he pecks your lips again, and smirks against your mouth. he teases your entrance with a single finger.

you whine, “please.”

“what did you say, hm?” he pretends not to hear you, pushing two fingers in. you've never been brave enough to use two even while masturbating— and his are long and thick. the stretch makes you wince. “come on, baby, tell your old man what you said.”

you try to capture his lips with yours again in hopes that he would stop teasing you. he chuckles breathlessly, then lets out a soft moan at the way your walls clench around him.

“i’m a sadistic, psychotic asshole, right?” he throws your words back at you, and you wince. you squeeze your eyes shut, bite down on your lips to hold back a needy whine. his fingers pull back and then thrust again, curling slightly. his thumb goes to your clit, rubbing it. you take a sharp breath, squirming on the bed as you moan again. he doesn't let up, “is that not what you called me? and now you want me to make you feel good?”

his voice grows serious again, face hardening. his motions stop. “apologize.”

your eyes snap open, and you look at him, surprised. “huh?”

“apologize,” he repeats, “for everything you said earlier. and i'll consider making you cum.”

that gets you to clench your jaw. you glare at him with narrowed eyes, chest heaving with frustration. but you won't do it. if anyone should be apologizing— it's him. he was the one who deceived you and ruined your life. and he hasn't apologized even once. he must think you're stupid. hell would freeze over before you apologize.

you almost reconsider your decision— but then again, his threat only stands if he leaves the players alive. he didn't say anything about language. you shake your head, your previous stubbornness taking over. “not a chance in hell.”

he snorts, looking at you, unamused. his facial expressions don't change, but you can see it in his eyes. little things like a twitch give him away. your heart drops as he pulls his hand out completely, his fingers glistening and wet. he brings them to his mouth, sucks the juices off so casually that it leaves you dumbfounded and flustered.

“i have no patience for brats.” he nods, standing up. you stutter over your words, mouth opening and closing like a fish. much like it did when you first met.

“b-but—”

“i have some work to do.” he announces coldly. you wonder if he's going to do something bad. he's having the time of his life, sexually and emotionally tormenting you. “i'll be back in a bit. i asked the guards to bring you some chocolate milk. feel free to tell them your favourite food for dinner.”

the sudden change in events has you so unbelievably baffled that you can't say a thing as he begins to leave. it's brutal, and it almost makes you want to cry.

“sir?” you call out softly, almost timidly. unsure of how to address him. you're not going to take a risk.

he stops midway, before sighing to himself. he turns to you, looks at the desperation in your eyes.

“inho is fine.” he remarks flatly, swallowing hard. he doesn't know why he decided to reveal his name to you.

perhaps because it would give him another excuse to not let go of you.

you keep looking at him, a devastated expression on your face. like you're dying inside. and maybe you are.

your only source of comfort is gone. you'd gotten too used to it in the past few days. now you wish you'd never met him.

the emotion on his face is unreadable as he walks back to you. he places a soft kiss to your forehead and turns to leave. you grab his hand. the prospect of being alone leaves you terrified. maybe if you can convince him to stay, be good for him, he wouldn't hurt your loved ones. you'll behave.

you start to miss how things used to be.

if things were different, he would have come back to you. he would smile as he walked through the door, and you would finally feel your heart pumping blood as you run to him. he'd drop his gun and hold you, and you'd cry into his chest. he'd ask you if you caused any trouble, and you would take him to your bed and tell him everything. you would tell him that 149 called him your father, and he would laugh— his old man laugh which sounds so sweet and makes his eyes crinkle. he would ruffle your hair and say something along the lines of, ‘with how many times i've saved your ass, i might as well be.’

from a younger age, all you've ever desired is comfort, something you never received. someone to hold you when you cry, to take care of you. protect you. you're sick of being the tough one. the mere idea of it was so far away for you, that the first show of affection and reassurance had you getting this terribly attached. perhaps, inho's biggest crime was taking that away from you.

“inho.” you whisper, visibly crushed. you don't even feel horny anymore. you just miss his comfort, his soft words of reassurance. his laugh. your eyes grow teary. “please don't leave me.”

he looks at you, contemplating. he sighs defeatedly, before grasping your hand properly. it's so warm, and you choke on a soft sob as the reality of your situation sinks in again. you're done for. there's no escape. you're alone, and there's no one to save you. your young-il will not come swooping in to protect you, because he was never there in the first place. you don't even realize when you break down into heartbreaking sobs, breathing ragged.

he isn't used to showing much physical affection. not after what he went through, not until you. and now with you like this, something softens within him. he sits back down on the bed, wordlessly leaning into you, his arms open. you feel utterly pathetic at how quickly you crawl into his lap, burying your face in his chest. you feel like you're betraying your team, but do you have a choice? perhaps you did. you could've chosen to be tough and refuse his affection. but the stakes are different now. your family's life is on the line.

you never stood a chance, not after you met him.

and you don't want to think of a single instance where you don't get to experience being held by him.

your morals are more fucked than you thought. even after all the threats, after him practically forcing you to stay, you can't help but desire his affection. you'll be selfish for once. what could you have done anyway? you would've died in there, and your family would be alone. if what he said is true, atleast now they can live a life of ease without any debts.

as for your team, 456 will look out for them. he's alive, afterall.

you force your mind to be silent.

“i miss you,” you wail painfully, your free hand clutching the fabric of his shirt.

he holds you like a child, a hand pressing your head close, the other wrapping around your waist. he shushes you gently, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. he doesn't regret anything he did. you'd made him promise to come back for you, afterall. he always keeps his word. “i'm right here.”

you lean into his neck, and breathe in the smell of him. you squeeze your eyes shut till your sobs die down into the occasional hiccup. the stretch of your right hand and the rattling of the chains is another reminder of where you are.

perhaps if you stay hidden against his chest, you can try to convince yourself it's still your young-il holding you like this.

A/N: so! that's the end of dusk till dawn. this story truly was my joker. i tend to add a lot of psychological elements and character interactions so the fic feels more immersive and realistic, like you're really part of the game. i hope you liked it. can y'all tell who my favourite characters are? lol. also, i'm very horrible with smut so i really tried but i just can't write too much 💔 I'm mostly an angst girl as you can tell. anyways, this was a little self indulgent. thank you so much for the support you guys showed me, it truly means everything! i might write blurbs related to this specific couple from time to time, but no promises! maybe if i get good ideas or requests. anyways i rambled a lot. thank you for reading. feedback is always motivating.

tags: @bonelessghoul @cowuies @auspicious-lilana @politicstanner @verouys @gloriousjellyfisharcade @carolinevoight @shadowmoonlight0604 @ancrygurl @sunoon @jessgentleman @colorwastaken @loversroq @clown-around-and-find-out @popcorm @xcinnamonmalfoyx @robertthehoover @iloveoldermen0204 @kpopsmutty69 @iamkali

[demonic0angel]

Exhausted college student Danny gets mistaken for a vampire one night when he tiredly hissed at one of the bat family and showed fangs as he forgot he was eating some cherry candy that stained his teeth red. He also has pointed ears. Red Robin is on the case to track down the vampire in Gotham. He also found him kinda cute

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Tim tapped his fingers together in front of him. He leaned back in his chair and looked at his cork board, which were covered in photos of Daniel J. Nightingale, red string connecting each piece of information together to form a puzzle that he needed to solve.

It had been months, but somehow, Danny was evading Tim's every attempt to find out where he lived and whether or not he was truly a bloodsucking creature.

With how he was consistently disappearing under Tim's surveillance every time, he was beginning to think that Danny was truly a vampire.

The door opened, and Jason waltzed in and leaned over the back of his chair, his elbow narrowly digging into Tim's head. Tim yelped as his chair suddenly leaned back at a drastically new angle before he glared at him.

"... found a new victim, stalker?" Jason teased, looking at the pictures of Danny.

"... I'm not a stalker. And he's not a 'victim', he's a possibly dangerous individual that I need to find and neutralize."

Jason raised an eyebrow, looking at a picture where Danny was passed out on a park bench, a half eaten sandwich on his stomach that was being stolen away by a pigeon.

".... dangerous?" He said, his tone slightly unbelieving.

"I have reasons to believe that he's a vampire," Tim said vaguely.

Jason hummed. "Oh. So that's why you have this picture of him where his shirt's riding up over his stomach?"

Tim turned pink. "That's— that's for research! That picture is very important to me!"

"Oh, I'm sure it's important," Jason smirked. "So while you're figuring out a way to... 'neutralize' this vampire, can you try to get me this girl's phone number?" He said, picking up and waving a picture where Danny was talking to a tall, red haired woman. "She's hot."

"No!! And get out of my room!"

[kurooh]

PROFESSIONAL ( AT LOVIN’ ) !

⊹₊˚. HAWKS’ BDAY 2024 — after six months of being his press agent’s friend with all kinds of benefits, keigo struggles to find a way to tell you that he can’t keep up his side of the agreement any longer. / or, his heart’s been in it since the very beginning.

word count: 14.3K (um….please read🧎‍♀️)

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, friends with benefits -> lovers, angst, unprotected sex, creampies, cunnilingus, drinking (everyone is mid twenties), dirty talk, squirting once, office sex.

xoxo, juno: happy LATE birthday to keigo <33 WOOO first fic of 2025 and it’s the longest one i’ve ever written.. inspired by the weeknd’s kissland! hope you enjoy, love you guys :,) 🩷

“this pussy of yours is pretty fuckin’ greedy, huh?”

“how could i not be when you always fuck me so g-good?” the filthy words rush out of your mouth in a surge of euphoria that has taken over your cognitive functions and renders you clinically cock drunk. in this state, things you’d normally never agree to are suddenly more alluring than a shiny trinket to a nesting bird. sex on the roof of the heroes’ safety commission is outlandish and obscene (you’d used those words when keigo had first brought it up in jest) — but here you are getting plowed by none other than the no. 2 hero of japan.

“aw, dovey,” keigo coos, gloved hand closing around the slope of your neck and tugging you back into his chest, “you’ve always got the best compliments, don’t ya?”

“ah, r-right there!” you gasp, eyes rolling back into your skull as your third orgasm of the half hour boils in your tummy like magma in an explosive volcano. “shit, kei, ‘m gonna cum again..”

“heh, go ahead ‘n let it out for me,” the heel of his other hand digs hard into the plush skin above your pubic bone and the crude slapping of skin against skin grows louder. “c’mon, baby, cum all over this cock. show me how good you feel, yeah?”

“yeah,” you whimper, desperately throwing your ass back onto his cock to get him even deeper, “oh my god, keigo, fuuuck—‘m cumming!”

it nearly sweeps you off your feet, the strength of your blissful orgasm leaving you shaking violently and clenching uncontrollably on keigo’s cock. his teeth sharply sink into his lower lip when he quickly pulls out of you, lamely stroking himself to completion above your ass and spraying strings of ivory onto your skin. your body is slick with sweat and now cum, but the messiness of the situation doesn’t hit you quite yet — you’re busy trying to catch your breath while he hangs his head lowly behind you.

keigo still holds you upright on legs of jelly, lightly beating his wings to help stabilize himself. watchful gold eyes sweep over your body, doing a once over and admiring every inch of you. he’s always considered you as the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and has always felt lucky to touch you — so why does he feel so damn unfulfilled? it’s probably a form of karma; keigo hasn’t ever had a consistent relationship, all due to his own actions. so many of his old girlfriends had clashed with him over his neglectful habits — his inability to give them time, attention, and effort. all of his relationships began positively, then quickly deteriorated into toxicity he’d grown tired of dealing with.

he’d been single for a year, and went without sex for longer. if he didn’t always have the press looming over his shoulder and scrutinizing each of his damn movements, he would’ve been able to get his dick wet sooner! keigo would certainly never admit it, but the total deprivation has been a good thing, allowing him to reset and understand why those relationships had completely gone downhill. at the time, he’d pettily blamed his girlfriend or the new guy she’d moved on with.

you let out a tired puff of breath and break away from his hold too soon just to look at your phone, which is sitting on top of keigo’s jacket. “so, my lunch break isn’t over just yet. we can hit the sandwich place around the block if you’re up for it?”

god, you’ve got that lazy smile playing on your lips like it always does after he’s made you cum. how is it possible for someone to look so elegant even as she buttons her blouse and wipes cum off her ass with a spare napkin? his brain literally short circuits when you hand him his jacket, plush lips shaping around a word. words. didn’t you just say something? maybe his post nut clarity has faded into obscurity, or he’s lost his hearing from how hard he just came.

“keigo,” you sigh, snapping your fingers in front of his face and briefly contemplating slapping him out of his stupor, “is the light on upstairs?”

a shiver jolts through him despite the fact that the weather’s warm, and his disassociated eyes finally hone in on you, standing right in front of him. “yeah, sorry. what’d you say earlier?”

you shrug on your suit jacket and slip into your heels. “i’m still free. we can grab sandwiches around the block if you’d like.”

so thoughtful. his heart swells happily at the prospect of eating lunch with you. it always does, usually accompanied with a flip in his stomach, whenever he tags along on something you’re doing, whether it’s eating lunch or sorting through lengthy documents after the office closes.

“sounds good. are we walking or flying, dovey?” your favorite sex petname rolls off his tongue naturally, and after months of this arrangement, you’ve stopped correcting him.

“let’s just walk,” you say decisively, wrapping the used napkin in another, “it attracts less press, showbird.”

☆ ☆

still thrumming with the sensations of sex, keigo walks into the restaurant behind you, piping up to place his order and then to swipe his card for the lunch. he dutifully waits at the table while you stand at the counter, glancing at your phone every now and then to alleviate the impatient boredom that accompanies most edible purchases. keigo allows himself a moment of respite, and instead of looking at his phone, he looks at you — particularly the way your clothes hug the slopes and curves of your body, much like he does when he’s coming down from an orgasm.

it was exactly eight months ago when keigo had first laid eyes on you. he knew right then and there that under no circumstances would he allow his old persona to shine through or mess things up between the two of you. for the first two months out of those eight, keigo had befriended you (with much encouragement from his friend mirko, bless her) and spent time getting to know you as a person over friendly lunches and the occasional drink. he’d committed each of your stories to memory and marked your birthday down on the calendar, something he’d never done for anyone else before. the beginning of everything was after one of those rare drinks that had landed you in keigo’s apartment and sitting criss-crossed on his bed, discussing your unlucky love life.

he’d listened with rapture as you pored over the freaks you’d met and gone out with in detail, mistakenly trusting your friends to set you up with someone nice on a blind date. in their defense, you’d drunkenly mumbled, it’s not their fault that there’s so many people catfishing. one inebriated conversation led to another, and you’d happened upon the fact that neither of you hadn’t had any good sex in a very long time. in the morning, you came into work late and sore all over, but also newly enlightened. for the past six months, you’ve successfully maintained a friends with benefits relationship with keigo takami, the no. 2 hero of japan.

“this one’s yours. here’s the receipt,” you push him a tightly wrapped sub sandwich and his tab.

he catches the sandwich after letting it spin on the table like an arrow on a game spinner, then crumples the receipt. “why don’t you believe me when i say i enjoy paying for you, hm?”

you sigh after a bite. “it makes me feel like a sugar baby . . but also, i can pay for myself.”

“so you’re either saying i’m old or rich,” keigo chuckles when you roll your eyes dramatically, “i know you can, but just let me spoil you, dovey.”

you knew it was a losing game the moment you brought it up, cheeks heating a little at the implication of his words. maybe being his baby isn’t that bad. conversation comes to a comfortable standstill as you both dig into your sandwiches, crumbs falling to the table and making a small mess. when you look up to pause and wipe your mouth, a laugh tumbles out before you can stop it.

“what?” keigo asks confusedly, holding his sandwich tightly and going so far as to swivel around backwards in hopes of pinpointing whatever made you laugh. 

you wrap a napkin over your fingers and lean across the table. instinctually, keigo leans in for a kiss, only to be a little more than heartbroken when you swerve to the side and dodge it to instead dab at a streak of mustard across his chin. the sudden intimacy and close proximity cause the apples of his cheeks to turn rosy in embarrassment. “did you just lead me on?” he asks when he notices you giggling at him again, voice taking on a playful and petty tone. “because it totally feels like you did that on purpose.”

“no, keigo,” a wide smile spreads across your face at his usual antics, “you were the one eating so quickly you got mustard all over your face! someone had to clean you up.”

in an instant, his voice drops an octave, becoming low and sultry. “you keep talking like that and i’ll clean you up.”

“i— we’re in public!” you exclaim, a dull ache pulsing between your legs at the thought of him using his tongue on you. 

he shrugs noncommittally, feeling triumphant now that he’s briefly flustered you. “public or not, you know you love it. now eat your sandwich.”

“way ahead of you,” heat floods your cheeks as you pick up the sandwich, feeling dirty because of the slick pooling into your underwear. keigo doesn’t understand how easy it is to get you worked up, whether it’s with his words or the mischievous footsie he keeps playing under the table with you. “if i come across a headline about this conversation, i’m gonna kill you.”

☆ ☆

“late night?” keigo hums, shattering your concentration on the current task. startled and disheveled, you glance up just in time to catch his typical smirk. his gold eyes shamelessly rake up and down your body as if he’s spotted something he wants—no, needs—to claim. however, his raunchy ogling comes to a screeching halt when he hones in on the shadowy dark circles beneath your eyes.

“the latest,” you blow out a peeved breath through pursed lips, doing your utmost to avoid looking out the window. it’s completely dark outside, the sky an inky blanket of night and stars over the city. “i’m fucking swamped.”

it comes out bitterly, and keigo cautiously steps forward, wings twitching nervously behind him. that well-groomed mess of vermilion feathers at his back seems to have a mind of its own, constantly betraying their owner by displaying his emotions so openly. 

“what, you coming to rescue me?” absentmindedly, you swish around your empty coffee mug. not a single drop flies over the edge, the porcelain totally dry as if it was never used.

“c’monnnn, you know i’m always up to rescue you,” he teases playfully, gently tugging the mug out of your grip and setting a reassuring palm down on your hunched shoulders. “i’ll get us some coffee and help you out when i get back.”

“i highly doubt that you’re qualified to deal with PR work, keigo.” a small though rascally smile plays on your lips, corners flicking up as your sour demeanor starts to mellow out. 

he sticks out his tongue and steps out of your office, heading to the kitchen. as his feet quietly pad along the hard carpet, he considers your recent behavior — last week you were fucking around on the roof and then getting sandwiches like it was nobody’s business. keigo was seeing you around the office and outside of it, but the time he’d been spending with you had decreased dramatically over the past few days. the coordinated lunch breaks and escapades were no more, and keigo’s been caught up wondering why. now, the reason for this couldn’t be linked to anything he did or said — still, it’s impossible for him not to overthink.

“god, you’re a lifesaver!” you groan joyously as keigo sets down a full mug of coffee in front of you and away from your laptop and notepad. “thank you for this.”

“slow down, you haven’t even seen the things i can do outside of making coffee.”

you rotate your laptop once he finally takes a seat in front of you, insistently pointing a finger at the various tasks on your metaphorical plate. “if i give you some work, you’ll have to do a lot of proofreading.”

keigo nods, and his eyebrows suddenly pull downwards in a mix of playful confusion and surprise. “wait, is that a virtual shrine dedicated to me?”

“what?” you mutter, squinting your eyes as you frantically look over the computer screen to no avail. “oh, shut up. just start reading while i finish up the rest.”

there’s a pause and a beat of silence as you both settle into your respective assignments.

then, “i actually came to the office because i missed you a little.”

“you what?” you laugh increduously, licking a finger to aid you in flipping through paperclipped pages. his eyes follow you, from the moment your tongue darts out to wet your skin and then flicks through pages you skim to find what you’re looking for.

“well, i haven’t seen you outside of work in a while,” keigo sniffs, tearing his eyes away from you and refocusing on the words on the screen. at the risk of sounding too vulnerable, he throws in something disgustingly horny to save himself. “was just wondering about my fuck buddy.”

fuck. he’s really cringing now, throat instinctually closing up once he feels waves of nausea crashing over him. but you don’t even bat an eye, too busy setting papers aside in different stacks and barely paying attention to him. “oh, yeah. i’m sorry, it’s just that a ton of people have been dumping so much work on me.”

“so that’s why i’m reading a drafted article enshrining endeavor as number one?” he grins, briefly catching your eyes. you’re not quite sure if it’s the exhaustion finally catching up or something else, but your stomach flutters when you automatically meet his gaze. loose papers drift to the floor, falling right past you. 

“yep, that’s why,” you laugh nervously, snatching up the papers so forcefully that they crumple in your grasp. keigo’s always so damn charming, and it affects you more now that you’re so tired. right?

“you want some dinner, dovey?” the affectionate pet name lingers in your mind, echoing loudly until it finally fades into a memory from a while ago. the transition of his affectionate voice into one choked with unadulterated pleasure is seamless, leaving you breathless in an instant. a glance at his wings has you sloppily picturing them fanned out above you and frantically beating the air as keigo ruts his hips into yours . . god, what’s gotten into you? he certainly could.

“i want you,” it slips out before you can stop it or even control it, words laced with a silent desperation only he can detect. “uh, i mean—”

“bold words,” a wolf whistle trills out into the air, reminding you that you’ve now started something you won’t be getting out of easily. “sure you can handle what you’re askin’ for, baby?”

“don’t act like i haven’t countless times before,” you retort, voice a little weaker than you’d like. it’s frustrating, the influence he has over your body — he hasn’t even said anything meaningful and yet heat’s surging to your cheeks while a shiver of excitement ripples through you.

“riiiight. aren’t you the one always saying you can’t handle it? ‘oh, keigo, please! i can’t, i—’”

the endless teasing is just too much — it makes your blood boil, gets your pulse racing, and absolutely does what it was intended to do. your full mug of coffee tips off the edge of the table and spills when you slam the laptop shut, leaping forward to rapidly close the distance between you two. your lips, slightly sticky with coffee, crash onto keigo’s hard, causing your foreheads to knock together too.

it’s a palpable invitation, one that he eagerly accepts without hesitation. his strong hands settle firmly on your hips in an attempt to stop their slight tremble, fingertips pressing into the curve of your waist. he pulls you into his lap and you fall into sync with one another just like always: keigo slips his tongue into your mouth while you tug at his blonde curls. impatience curated by time apart and characterized by frustration has the air in the room sparking with white hot electricity that’s strong enough to cause a power outage — you’re so close to finally scratching that unbearable itch, at least until it comes back tomorrow with much more ferocity.

keigo draws back with a knowing smile, lips curling up. “we should stop, dovey.”

a thin, glossy string of saliva connects your lips to his. you’ve got this desperate, needy look written all over your face, which crumples petulantly as you consider the possibility of being left unsatisfied. something purely horny twists in his chest, alongside his still yearning heart — keigo fucking loves being in control, being the only one who can give you the satisfaction that you so desperately need, but the thought of being something more resurfaces in his mind again.

it always comes to him at the worst times: right now, during a sexual moment, or before he falls asleep and when he opens his eyes to daylight in the morning. it’s eating him up inside, and he’s already too far in to stop — or is he? no, he isn’t! not if he finds a way to extricate himself from the suffocating casualness of this mess and advance whatever’s left into a real relationship, one that’s abundant in love and adoration. the evolution of the relationship hinges on the timing of his love confession, so he’ll definitely plan to wait until you’re not holed up in the office and on his lap looking like you’re about to shed tears.

“i c-can’t,” you gasp breathlessly, heart pounding in your ears, “kei, please— i need you so badly, i’ve been waiting so damn long.” 

and who is he to deny you, when you’re begging so beautifully?

“so you missed me?” keigo murmurs, pressing kisses to the column of your throat and savoring the way you softly gasp. this is his moment. he’s going to slyly frame a question for you, and when you answer it correctly, he’ll spring his confession onto you and then give you what you’ve been dying for.

“god, yes,” a moan rushes out from between your lips, head tipping back to give him easier access. with his nose pressed into your skin, keigo blissfully inhales the faint wisps of your favorite perfume. eight months later and you’re still wearing that scent daily, ever since he complimented you the day he met you. “you know i did, keigo.”

“what’d you miss the most?” he smirks between open mouthed kisses, guiding you straight to the answer with his warm hands that slip under your shirt and languidly caress the small of your back. 

“your cock, t-the way you fuck me,” you groan, unintentionally shattering his plan into pieces; but he doesn’t let it show, chuckling into your neck as he rapidly snatches them up and off the floor. it’s okay, he’s okay. all he has to do is ask a few more questions and offer up some multiple choice answers — in doing so, he’ll have a chance to tell you how he really feels.

“mmmm, is that all?” 

your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you tug him back by the hair, scrutinizing him with eyes clouded by lust and nothing else. a carnation colored flush sits high on his cheekbones, and his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows down a pesky i love you. not now, not here — this isn’t the right moment.

“keigo, why are you questioning me like my boss does?” he blinks, averting his eyes to your glossy neck, shining with his saliva in the dim light. it smells like coffee now, and he’s wondering if it’ll ever get cleaned up, dark liquid overflowing and soaking through the carpet, straight into the floor. he doesn’t want to be like the coffee, forgotten about and lingering in the air since it had fallen off the desk without you having caught it.

keigo knows you — he always has, and it’s too easy to pick up on the unmistakable tension twisted in your question, along with undertones of discomfort and deflection. automatically, he slips back into his typical persona, lips curling into an impish smile while he waggles his eyebrows to emphasize his words. “heh, you’re so impatient. can you blame me for wanting to build things up?”

you visibly relax, plush mouth forming into a pout he wants to kiss away. “i think there’s been plenty of build up. don’t tease me again.”

“yes ma’am,” he replies coolly, lifting his hands into the air in a show of submission. you release his hair and he pulls you into his chest, holding you tightly as he stands up from the chair. it rolls away into a corner, plastic backing hitting the wall with a soft thud just as keigo slams you down on the desk, papers flying every which way. 

“keigo, hah, you haven’t even gotten me naked yet,” you sigh, heat rushing to your face as he sinks to his knees on the hard carpet, his eyes never leaving yours. dexterous, impatient fingers find the clasp of your pants, and he drags them down your legs, along with your sticky panties. 

“i know,” keigo breathes, pulling your thighs over his shoulders and pulling your hips close to his face, “and yet, you’re already fucking soaked for me. aren’t you, baby?”

“yeah, i am,” you whimper, feeling your cunt clench around nothing when he rewards you by spitting onto your clit. “all for you, kei.”

“you’re so cute.” 

you really are, all spread out on the desk, pretty and pliant just for him. there’s not a shred of resistance when he manuvers you closer or teases his fingertips around your quivering hole, ignoring your strained cries for more. dark pupils enlarge against gold irises, and keigo’s wings flutter eagerly as his arousal crashes over him in continuous, steady waves of heat. now that he’s between your legs and focused on his favorite late night snack, the scent of the coffee dissipates along with his thoughts. 

“keigo,” you keen, fingers threading through his tousled curls, “please, just—oh god, stop fuckin’ teasing me.”

a sportive smack! lands on the side of your bare ass, kicking up a few papers when you jolt forward in surprise. “easy, baby. easy,” there’s a low, warning pitch in his voice, and you settle down frustratedly, gnawing on your lower lip. keigo’s never been one to rush when it comes to eating your pussy, even during quickies—you’d be more aggravated if he didn’t always make you cum so damn hard. his face is flushed pink and shining with eagerness as he pushes two fingers inside you, fixated on the way they slide in so easily. 

he experimentally curls them, and a lick of heat washes over his whole body when he watches your face crumple, head tipping back weakly while you tug at his hair. the blond curls are soft between your fingers, giving you something to grab onto when you need to steady yourself. 

“fuckkk,” keigo groans, attaching his rosy lips to your clit and lightly sucking at the swollen, sensitive bud. clumsily, you grind your hips against his mouth, body sweltering as the small office fills with the impolite smacks of his lips and wet squelches of your sloppy cunt. “loosen up for me, baby, you’re too tight.”

a trembly breath leaves your lips as you obediently readjust for him, spreading your legs and trying to relax so he can tug his fingers back. for a moment, he pauses to appreciatively look over his glossy, creamy fingers—he sticks them into his mouth, moaning and squeezing his eyes shut as he puts on a show of swirling his tongue around them like some kind of slut. once he opens his eyes, those piercing gold hues meet your own and he plunges them back inside, making you whimper.

“listen to me, dovey,” keigo murmurs, breath fanning over your wet clit, “i want you cumming hard on my fingers in the next thirty seconds.”

“but—oh,” your voice cracks when he deeply curls his fingers, purposefully interrupting you, “what if it’s not enough? i don’t think i can—”

sharp, pearly teeth lightly graze your clit and make you mewl noisily, the action both a warning and a reward. “yes, you can, dovey,” he utters in a hushed voice, “c’mon, show me you’re a big girl. i’ll be counting for ya.”

with that, keigo dives back in, furiously licking your clit while he roughly curls his fingers into that sweet, spongy spot inside you. it’s probably not serious, but something in your stomach flutters at the thought of disobeying him—if he wants you to cum, you’ll do just that. your hips rock into his tongue, developing a messy rhythm that could possibly rival his own when he’s inside you—he smirks against you, clearly pleased with himself. papers lift into the air, swirling around in a flurry of white as if they’re caught up in a tornado. the source of the miniature storm is his wings, uncontrollably flapping about as he determinedly licks at your clit like a lollipop. 

twenty five. a thin sheen of sweat shines on your forehead, making the skin tacky. absentmindedly, you wonder if it could be possible for him to cum in his pants just from eating you out. he certainly enjoys it enough — whenever he says he’s feeling thirsty or hungry, he’ll end up eating you out for so long you pass out by your seventh orgasm.

twenty. keigo’s absorbed in the smell, sight, and taste of you. nothing’s better than watching you fall apart on him, dewy tears in your eyes as you fight back overstimulation or impatience. but this is new: he’s never demanded you to cum after setting a time limit in place. it occurs to him now that he didn’t think far enough ahead to answer the question you’ll probably end up asking afterwards, something along the lines of ‘what would’ve happened if i didn’t cum?’ . . 

fifteen. with your eyes rolling back into your head as your hips lurch off the desk, a bit of drool pours down your chin. covered in a mixture of sweat, spit, and slick, you’re at a loss for words as keigo’s damn tongue rolls over your clit again and again. perhaps you’re too dazed, but you swear you feel him etch the letters of his name into you with the tip of his tongue.

ten. keigo’s pussydrunk, soaking his boxers with precum as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. his eyes are dark with lust, and the rosy skin of his cheeks and chin is smeared with that sticky wetness he just can’t get enough of. all of your muscles pull taut like a bowstring, and you sob out his name, pushing his face into you as euphoria hits you from every direction and all at once.

“kei, oh my god, ‘m gonna fucking cum,” within seconds of your frantic gasps, you abruptly gush on his fingers, hard enough to push them out of you — cum squirts from your cunt, getting onto his face when he curiously leans in to lick it away.

you don’t get a second to come down from your high because keigo roughly licks you through it as if he’s severely dehydrated. “mmmph!” you squeal, hips immediately pulling away from him like he’s given you an electric shock. “wai—wait, keigo, it’s way too much!”

he relents, rolling his eyes as if he doesn’t believe you. “fine, fiiiiine. you win this one, dovey.”

“pants off.”

he quirks an eyebrow but starts to undo his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a soft bang. “you’re so fucking greedy, i swear.”

you throw him a glare, wiping sweat off of your forehead as you sit up, slowly hopping off of the desk. 

papers fall all around you, quietly crinkling as they hit the floor and surround the desk in a sloppy circle. your lips press into a thin line as you take the sight in, mildly exasperated by the mess you’ll force him to clean up. “on the desk, keigo. tuck your wings in too.”

he laughs in disbelief, used to calling the shots when it comes to sex, “so demanding, baby.”

you fix him with a serious look, crossing your arms over your chest while papers ride the dying currents of air made by his wings. keigo clears his throat and folds his wings close to his back, “yes ma’am.”

his flushed cock is rock hard, bobbing as he settles onto the desk; it’s fraught with veins and beautifully curved to one side, something you’re endlessly thankful for when he’s inside you. above him, you’re dripping wet and ready to take him deep — keigo shudders when you grip the base of his cock, carefully balancing yourself on the desk so that you can easily sit down on it.

“holy—oh, shit,” he curses, abs clenching beneath his clothing as he forces himself to keep his hips down. if you want to take control, he’ll give it to you — anything you could ever want is immediately yours. bleary gold eyes clear up and hone in on where you’re connected; your pussy swallows his cock whole like it’s nothing, leaving him breathless.

you swallow, gnawing at your lower lip, “i’ve fucking missed this, kei. been s-so long.”

memories from your most favorite escapades rush back to you so quickly your head spins, momentarily distracting you from the task at hand. there’s a beat of silence before keigo grips your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he borderline begs you, “baby, c’mon, fuck me already.”

“don’t tell me what to do,” you breathe, placing your hands in the center of his chest to hold yourself up, “you don’t get to do that right now, keigo.”

“god, you’re gonna kill me.”

maybe you won’t, but your hips will — they start to move until you’re bouncing roughly on his cock, letting his tip bully itself against your cervix. it’s the kind of kiss that only the two of you can understand, filled with affection and an hungry obsession for more.

for what seems to be the hundredth time, this mahogany desk is christened with more sex. skin claps against skin, filling the room with the same applause that echoes in a theater after a successful show; the whole building is empty, and it’s only your window that’s flooded with fluorescent light in the otherwise dark night.

“dovey,” keigo moans, voice cracking on the familiar pet name, “if you keep going like this, i’m—i’m not gonna last much longer.”

you don’t answer, eyes squeezing shut against the burn of exhaustion setting into your muscles. handsy as always, he grabs at your tits, pulling you further on top of him and taking a hardened nipple into his mouth.

the sharp edges of his pearly teeth drag against your skin as he sucks, golden eyes shutting once he hears your whiny moans grow louder. you’re fluid and all too smooth, riding his cock into oblivion while working in these little humps against his pelvis that don’t disturb the rhythm you’ve built up. your clit drags across his skin deliciously—shit, it’s possible that you could cum together.

“haah, baby,” keigo trembles beneath you, wings spreading out and quivering against his will. “i’m so damn close, i want—” it nearly sounds too intimate, but he ignores the voice in the back of his mind and focuses on his impending orgasm that’s fighting its way out of him. “shit, i just want you to cum with me.”

sensitivity creeps up your spine and makes your body ripple with a shudder, “r-rub my clit ‘n i will, kei.”

everything happens so damn fast; it doesn’t take long for your body to respond to his frenetic touch, and you completely fall apart on his cock, triggering his own high. while your cunt desperately grips him like a vice, he’s shooting endless ropes of cum deep against your cervix. ultimately, it was pointless for him to fold up his wings — they’ve fought against him like usual, strewing more papers around the room and knocking objects off of your desk.

“d-don’t move just yet,” he wheezes, holding your hips in place the moment you try to retreat, “just stay here for a second, dovey.”

a mixture of slick and cum is smeared in the wispy beige hair that adorns his pelvis, and he looks at you pleadingly, cheeks a blotchy pink. it’s cute, but not nearly convincing enough for you to stay much longer than half a minute. “c’mon, i’ve got some stuff to finish up.”

begrudgingly, keigo lets you go and winces as you pull off of his cock. it flops lamely against his stomach, cum dribbling down the sides and adding to the creamy ring around the base. he sighs, unsurprised by your eagerness to depart — his thighs are cooling now that you’re no longer sitting on top of them.

“that was good,” you say, voice layered with praise as you stand on the tips of your toes and peck an appreciative kiss to his cheek, “let’s get started on sorting papers, shall we?”

you’re already across the room before he can grab your waist and show you what a real kiss feels like, slipping through his fingers like fine grains of sand each and every time. 

☆ ☆

rules are the stitches in the seams of anything, always there to hold things tightly in place. it’s natural to break a few every now and then, but what if there are some that should be broken? perhaps they tend to hold things back rather than securely in place.

“okinawa’s just beautiful,” keigo says wistfully, reminiscing about white sand beaches and the bird’s eye view of colorful tourist umbrellas dotting the shoreline from above. there’s a small glitch in his memories that adds you to the scene in a bikini, sunbathing on a towel while he convinces you to come swim in the water with him. he hears himself say something impulsive, but he doesn’t regret it. “maybe we can go on a trip there together. i’ll fly us.”

you stir your drink with a straw, watching the alcohol whirl around ice. “ah, i think we should build up to that, keigo. you’re forgetting that i’ve never flown around that far with you before.”

“we could always change that,” he replies, voice suave. “nighttime is the best time to fly.”

“someday i might just take you up on it,” a laugh spills out of your mouth after a gulp of sweetened tequila, and keigo’s face softens. one of the things he loves most about you is the fact that you’re not afraid to be yourself around him, never once hiding a smile or laugh. “anyway, is there anywhere you haven’t traveled?”

“hmm, let me think,” he raises his fingers to his chin and ponders momentarily, although the answer had come to him the moment you’d started to ask the question. “well, there’s your house.”

you shake your head, nudging his wrist with your own. “noooo, i’m talking about other countries and cities. haven’t you flown out of japan?” 

“only to okinawa,” he supplies, wings twitching anxiously. whenever he brings up your home in the city or worse, him going to it, you always clam up or push him away. granted, it was a boundary line you’d marked in the sand when you’d gotten into this reciprocal relationship all those months ago. escapades have taken place everywhere but your home—he could count on one hand the amount of times he’d mentioned doing it at your place, only to end up on a random rooftop or in an empty alleyway. ever the quick learner, keigo learned not to bring it up. but now, when he’s considering all the variables involved when it comes to confessing to you, he can’t help but feel that it’s necessary to see your house at least once.

sweat rolls down his spine and he unconsciously tugs at his fitted shirt, feeling the heatwaves brought on from both the liquor and the crowded atmosphere of the bar. there’s so many people walking behind the two of you, so much noise, so many bodies all in one space — he feels a little trapped.

“i’ve never been,” you say, derailing his train of thought as you drain your third drink of the night and then flag down the bartender for another. “it’s supposed to be a great vacation spot, though.”

he wipes away the sweat from his forehead with his arm and finishes his drink before nodding your way, wings fidgeting behind him. “it really is, dovey. you wanna take off after another drink or two?”

two glasses slide on the counter, the sides dripping with condensation and cold to the touch. it’s nice to feel in his hands, and he feels his nerves calming after a few long sips. “sounds good,” you answer, feeling hot yourself. the edges of everything in the room seem to blur, thanks to the halos circling the dim bar lights. “you might have to carry me out of here, though.”

“oh, i don’t mind,” keigo answers with a smirk that you can hear in his voice before looking up at him, “but only if you promise you’ll hold on tightly.”

“yes, keigo,” you drawl, scooting your barstool a few inches closer to him. he follows your shameless eyes, tracing your weighted stare to the small gold chain around his neck. it makes a tinkling sound when keigo loops a finger beneath it, hazy eyes meeting your own.

“can’t stop staring, can you?”

you automatically roll your eyes and look away, although your heart starts to race with anticipation. it should be an innocent question, but keigo’s words roll off his tongue in a way that is loaded with his unique charm and flirtatiousness. in a matter of seconds, you’re overthinking the question and the certain innuendo behind it; your breaths come in shallow pants that are just barely audible, and a finger slips beneath your chin to tip your head up. 

keigo leans in, lips barely grazing the shell of your ear. “gettin’ all worked up and i haven’t even touched you? that’s a first for you, baby.”

just stop it, you think, yet you’re unable to turn away. damn, he’s got you right where he wants you, and he knows it — keigo shoots you a knowing smile when he notices your thighs unconsciously squeeze together. it’s so hot in this bar, and it only grows hotter in his presence; an uncontrollable shiver races up your spine and you shakily reach for your drink. “stop it, kei.”

your words are shaky, and his wings twitch triumphantly behind him, feathers slightly puffing up. the dewy glass slips right out of your hand and splashes all over your blouse, sticky tequila soaking all the way through to your bra and dampening your chest. keigo stifles a snicker and plucks the glass out of your lap, a little bit of liquid still sloshing around inside it.

“that—that was your fault,” you drop a loose ice cube into the remains of your drink and glare at him angrily as he dabs a handful of napkins against your chest, unabashedly looking over the shrinking fabric. now that it’s all wet, it clings to every inch of your chest and emphasizes the outline of your tits.

“oh, but i wasn’t holding the drink,” keigo clicks his tongue and sends you a wink, sweat shining on his forehead. 

“someone has to foot the bill,” you grouse, sourly blaming him for your now stained blouse and sticky chest. then, it hits you—neither of you are drunk enough to leave the bar. after flagging down the bartender and requesting six shots, you look at keigo competitively. “listen up. whoever finishes the shots first wins and doesn’t have to pay.”

“really, a drinking challenge?” keigo grumbles, knowing you have a better chance of winning. normally, he wouldn’t mind paying for you, but you’ve challenged him and might risk covering the bill you’ve both racked up. his head is fuzzy, but one thought is clear: he won’t let you.

“yes, really,” you shoot back, nose crinkling at the smell of the liquor all on its own in the shot glasses. it’s not sweet and there’s no chaser, but you’re determined to fight your gag reflex as it goes down. “ready?”

“i’m ready,” keigo sighs, lifting a shot glass. 

it ends faster than the alcohol was poured. you’re proud to have won, and keigo doesn’t let on the fact that he assisted you. despite the liquid fire burning your throat, you’re happy—too happy; this is the most drunk that keigo has ever seen you, and he’s in the same boat as you, looking for the oars.

he nearly forgets his card when he struggles to his feet and walks out of the bar with you, right into the not-so-dark nighttime of the city. all of the streetlights are fuzzy and the sounds of racing cars are muffled; this is a different area of the city and it takes a moment for you to register where you are in relation to keigo’s apartment.

“dovey,” he says, cheeks flushed a bright red, “do you wanna go to my place?”

strong, possessive hands find your waist and pull you close, pressing your damp chest against his. those gold eyes of his search your face carefully, as if he’s taking in your features and committing them to memory or looking for something he’s intent on finding. 

your hand settles on his cheek and you pull him forward for a kiss on the busy street, not caring about who sees or writes about it. you’re in your own world, thinking of nothing but keigo and his plush, yearning mouth—he’s got the sense to pull away before it goes further, vaguely gesturing for you to turn around. when you oblige, he wraps his arms around you and under your own, holding you securely against his chest.

“i’ll treat you to a little night flight.”

vermilion wings beat the air powerfully, kicking up dust and litter along the sidewalk as keigo lifts you off the ground and into the sky. you’re shocked and speechless as you look over the city from above, thousands of buildings endlessly illuminated with light and color from the entertainment district. “it’s beautiful up here,” you breathe, feeling a little less drunk now that chill air washes over your face and cools you down. “why didn’t you invite me up here sooner?”

keigo laughs, riding on the wind and becoming one with it. “i did, you just never took me up on it. as to why, i don’t know.”

everything’s so much clearer from up here. the view is impeccable, and the air is fresh, free of the different scents of the city — exhaust fumes, restaurants, cigarettes, the occasional incense store. you’re shivering, a little too cold from the breeze blowing through your damp blouse, but being pressed against keigo’s warm chest makes it more bearable. something prods at the back of your drunken mind, a thought you’ve pushed away each time it arrives.

keigo thinks he’s slick. he thinks you don’t notice his lingering gazes, the odd way he tries to snuggle up to you every time you finish having sex, or the acute tenderness written all over his face every now and then when he’s talking to you.

but you do. you notice it, each and every time—in fact, you know exactly what all of this behavior stems from, but you choose to ignore it. clearly, keigo is in love with you. it’s evident in his actions and body language, yet he hasn’t actually said anything. it’s so damn easy to notice and understand because you feel the same, you’re just better at hiding it. something about the idea of a relationship with the no. 2 pro hero of japan is daunting — not only because you’re his agent or you’ll constantly have to face the public, but because there’s a possibility that transitioning into something more from being friends with benefits may be too dramatic of a change. 

“oh, fuck,” keigo groans, getting lost in the myriad of lights and buildings below. he doesn’t know where the hell his apartment is and isn’t sure if he has the time to fly around for a half hour looking for it.

“what’s wrong?” you ask worriedly, suddenly aware of the fact that your legs are dangling in the air. in order to preserve his pride and sensitive ego, you don’t bring up anything about him dropping you, but your body tenses.

“it’s the shots,” he grouses, speaking quickly, “they’re gonna come back up.”

“where’s your apartment?”

“i don’t know,” keigo answers, and now you can hear him starting to gag as he forces the contents of his stomach back down. “i can’t keep flying around much longer . . sorry to cut this little flight short, baby.”

“it’s okay, just don’t get sick,” you reassure him slowly, trying to pinpoint your own apartment. surprisingly, the building is a minute or two away from you, if he flies fast enough. “keigo, we’ll head to my place. see that dark building right there, near the red billboard?”

he nods, and the waves of nausea evaporate instantly. after months, he’s finally going to see your apartment—he’s now leagues closer to successfully confessing his feelings to you. keigo’s heavy wings slice through the sky as he hurdles toward your apartment; while the speed is steady, the course is not. from below, people watch as something wobbles through the sky, shifting awkwardly from side to side in a way that isn’t at all graceful . . or intimidating.

you assume he really has to throw up, when it’s quite the opposite. “k-keigo, see that balcony with the potted plants? there’s only one pot of flowers.”

“is that yours?” he asks, struggling to control how giddy he is. “i see it.”

☆ ☆

with the solid, familiar ground of the balcony beneath your feet, things around you are a little steadier. still, the alcohol buzzes persistently in your head and makes you giggle over nothing. it’s warmer now that you’re out of the sky, standing close to keigo and surrounded by all of your potted plants. a pleasant tingling sensation courses through your limbs as your body wobbles, adjusting to being out of the air and the new thoughts that rush into your head.

everything’s still a little fuzzy at the edges, a reminder of your tipsiness and disorientation. keigo wraps a supportive arm around your waist when you nearly stumble to the ground, quietly giggling at your own actions and sighing contentedly in his grip. there’s a beat of silence as your body meshes into his, the kind that settles between two people who’ve just shared a long day, and it feels so natural that your mind absently drifts to two pairs of shoes beside one another and two cups of coffee in the mornings—perhaps you didn’t notice the routine you’ve slipped into, one so innate that it makes everything else feel a little less important.

“hey, did i mention how sexy you are when you’re drunk, dovey?” keigo hiccups, wings quivering as he leans on you for some support, struggling to balance just like you are. his knuckles nudge into your side gently, grin widening as if he’s waiting for a reaction from you. the playful edge to his voice falters momentarily, and you exhale through your nose, shaking your head in disbelief.

“ugh, you must’ve had much more than i thought,” you laugh, kicking the doormat up and retrieving the brass key from beneath it to unlock the door. it’s dark out here on the porch and the same inside, leading you to awkwardly jam the key into the lock.

“you always blow me off,” he sighs ruefully, smile dropping as he notices you using the key upside down. “what, do i embarrass you or something?”

“i-it’s not that,” you breathe, tensing the moment his chest presses against your back and his hand envelops yours to help you with the key. goosebumps rise on the tender flesh of your arms first, then all over your chest, beneath your damp blouse. you recover once the lock gives, sliding the heavy glass door open and catching your breath. “kei, you’ve always got something to say to me.”

“you, of all people, have the power to shut me up whenever you want,” keigo teases, following you into your quaint apartment. instead of appreciating the moment, his mind races to find an answer to the million-dollar question: why were you so intent on keeping him out of here? even in total darkness, the place is cozy, shelves adorned with knickknacks and décor that suits you. totally lost in concentration, keigo’s wings bristle and he accidentally knocks something off a shelf, but manages to catch it in his hand. you’re in the middle of saying something, but he doesn’t even notice, his eyes completely lighting up at the sight of the object.

“is this that glass bird i gave you all those months ago?” 

a nervous laugh rushes past your lips and you nod, hand falling away from the light switch. “yeah, i thought it looked nice up there. it’s pretty.”

“wow, baby,” he gingerly puts the figurine back in its place, elated by the possible significance that this little glass bird holds. “if i’d known you liked it that much, i would’ve showered you in gifts.”

in the middle of unbuttoning your blouse, you trip over your own foot, and keigo, ever the hero, catches you as gently as he did the figurine. his fingers splay across your bare side and you blink up at him, faced with another small gap that’s dying to be closed. “i know what i want as a gift,” you utter, voice low and sultry. the words seem to hang in the air like more of a promise than a request.

keigo can smell the liquor on your breath and the temptation that accompanies it—without a second thought, his lips are on yours and he’s pushing forward with alcohol buzzing in his veins. he’s so full of hope, believing the best over what he’s considered a sign of something more; it feels so right to kiss you like this, with his hands spanning your bare waist and tugging gently at your waistband. it doesn’t quite occur to him that he is inebriated and therefore may not be thinking as sharply as he would if he were sober in this situation. 

you shove forward, pushing him hard into a wall and nipping at his lips hungrily. despite being a little bothered by him being in your apartment, you can’t say you’re not interested in fucking on your own bed for once. a shaky gasp leaves you when you pull away for breath, stomach fluttering delightedly at the hardness of his cock pressing into your thigh.

his breath hitches in his throat, hazy mind racing a thousand miles an hour. the question leaves his lips with more urgency than intended. “i—shit, you really want me to take you right here?”

“in the hallway?” you laugh, astonished. “i’d much prefer my bed, it’s easier for you to fuck me as hard as you want.”

desire and lust conducts your actions, has you dropping your blouse to the floor and unclasping your bra next. each article of clothing falls to the floor in a heap, forming a trail leading to the bedroom door. keigo follows your lead, wings jittering with anticipation as he crosses the threshold. billowy curtains blow up and around the window, lifted by the night breeze, and your room is dark, the details barely visible: keigo notices the many pillows on your bed (so that’s why you were on his ass about buying more than just one) and the full length mirror off to the side.

keigo stops to glance at his reflection in the mirror, fraught with the sculpted curves of muscle—each line a testament to years of hard work and dedication. dark hickeys litter his tanned skin, all left behind from the heat of many moments. momentarily, his eyes shift from the glass to you, perched on the bed and waiting for him. his fingers subconsciously graze over one of the marks, just as he recalls one of your rules, a line that had been drawn in the sand early on—no marks, nowhere near your neck or anywhere at all, even if people couldn’t see them. 

it’s a curious little thing, isn’t it? you clearly have no qualms about marking up his body, but you never let him give you some in return—he hasn’t voiced it, not yet. he exhales softly, feeling the ache between his legs flare once you call his name expectantly. it’s like a switch flips, causing his mind to sharpen and his pulse to quicken when he steps toward you.

bathed in opalescent moonlight, you sit back against your makeshift throne of pillows, eyes raking over him shamelessly, as if you’re looking for something else to sink your teeth into. vermilion feathers puff up and shake themselves out as the bed dips beneath his weight. “come here,” he beckons you lowly, with every intention of making you his. “you’re mine, aren’t you?”

now mussed with abundant wrinkles, the bedspread shifts beneath your bodies as keigo slots himself on top of you and hastily kisses down your neck, lightly nipping at the tender skin, just enough to elicit soft moans from you. doubt melts into desire, lacing his ministrations with something more urgent. for six months, keigo has never seen or left a single mark on you, and tonight, that’s about to change—you’ve already broken the biggest rule you had by bringing him to your apartment, so how much further could this go? 

“yeah, ‘m all yours,” you whine, back arching off the bed when he bites at the soft skin of your tits, tongue lapping away the sticky tequila you spilled earlier. it’s so different—he can’t believe he went this long without making any objections. 

things are heating up fast, and that haziness from the liquor creeps up on both of you, blurring your thoughts just enough. his hips chase yours into the bed, and he eagerly grinds his hardened cock against your thighs, all over them. your voice cracks slightly when you try to moan his name, impatient as always. but keigo decides to take his time with you, kissing and biting longer than usual—he’s in no rush, not yet.

it’s intoxicating in every way possible, causing your body to swelter and thrash beneath his own. keigo’s moving fast, delighting in your pleasure and drinking in every reaction unapologetically. fuck, to think you’d denied him and yourself for so long—he should make it up to you somehow, shouldn’t he?

“dovey,” he pants, fingers slipping under the fabric of the panties appreciatively, “you wore my favorites?”

crimson fabric adorns your waistline, threaded with soft lace. for lingerie, it’s pretty comfortable: it doesn’t floss your asshole like a thong or g-string does, something you’d told keigo when you tried it on in the dressing room. he knew he’d be buying it the moment you stepped out with a bright smile on your face. seeing it on you now is surreal, and he nearly creams his boxers at the sight of it, wings conveying his thoughts for him through a tremble.

your hips rise up and off the bed so he can pull away the last bit of fabric that covers your body. “yeah, but it doesn’t matter now,” you titter cheekily, shockwaves of arousal shooting straight between your thighs.

unceremoniously, your legs are thrown open and keigo’s wings flutter in amusement, always the first thing to react to whatever you have to say. “it matters to them,” keigo comments, jerking a thumb back to point at his pesky wings, “fair warning, this place might be a mess by the end of this.”

“so long as you help me deal with it tomorrow, i don’t mind,” your fingers swipe his cooling spit off your chest, and you’re a little startled as you press at a fresh hickey. it’s sticky, skin now sensitive and tingling in a way that’s just right.

fierce as always, keigo doesn’t waste any time diving between your legs, eager to fuck but even more so to eat your pussy. glistening strings of slick stick to the tender skin of your inner thighs, connecting them to each other thinly until he licks it away. “mmm, dovey,” he moans adoringly, and your pulse quickens, “taste so goddamn sweet.”

keigo’s a proud pussy eater, the filthiest and best you’ve ever met. he could be gasping for air with his face covered in your cum and yet, he’d still have something utterly nasty to say. unapologetically nose deep, he slurps loudly at your soaking cunt and pins your antsy legs down over his shoulders. 

“ngh, keigo,” you thrash forward, thighs squeezing his head like a vice while your hips uncontrollably buck into his face. “please don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—”

“keep squirming around like that and i will,” he grunts, one hand pressing you down into the bed while the other pushes between your thighs. those tenacious gold eyes of his are hooded now, gleaming rapturously as he devours everything you have to give him like he’s been starving. loud, sloppy slurps soon fill the room, falling into cadence with your whiny moans; scarlet feathers ruffle in response to his most favorite sounds, and his hips rut carelessly into the mattress, desperately seeking friction.

your head falls back into the downy pillows, jaw dropping slackly as you unsteadily sneak a hand down to your clit, fingers seeking to rub a lustful itch away. keigo’s fingers wrap around your wrist and snatch it away from your pussy, instead guiding your hand to his head in a show of acquiescence. 

“don’t go doing that,” he groans, pulling up for air and pressing a thumb to your swollen clit hard enough to make your eyes roll back into your skull, “use your words instead, dovey.”

you weakly nod his way, and a sudden, swift slap is delivered right to your clit, the force behind it causing you to see stars. a twisted yelp tears from your throat, and you’re doe eyed when you tearfully glance down at him, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“gotta work on using your words, baby,” keigo coos, thumbing away a stray tear from your cheek. “jus’ trying to make you understand that i need you to tell me what you want.”

there’s a dark edge to his voice that makes the apologetic tone he’s taken on seem ingenuine, almost a little mocking. and yet, you let out a sweet moan, leaning into his touch with a hushed, “yeah, kei. i understand.”

still reeling from the tingling impact of the pussy slap, you guide his head back down between your legs and unsteadily grind into his mouth. he greedily drinks you in, smacking his lips like he can’t get enough of your honeyed taste, and unconsciously pulling you closer. his fingers rub tight circles into your throbbing clit, occasionally pinching the bud to elicit a scream or two before letting go.

keigo had always been taught not to play with his food—but when she’s quaking against his face and sobbing out his name over and over, he just can’t help himself. he’s had a perpetual  mean streak that he’s only ever unleashed during sex with you, taking an overwhelming satisfaction in fucking you dumb and then teasing you about it. he notices the way your thighs tense at either side of his head, the way your head falls back whenever he tenses his tongue.

your clammy fingers claw through blonde curls, saccharine moans spilling from your lips with each ravenous push of his tongue through your folds. it’s a push and pull rhythm that is nothing less than addictive, dragging out the air from your lungs and leaving you utterly breathless. 

“g-god, keigo,” you keen loudly, shoving him down without any regard for his ability to breathe, “need you to—i need you to fuck me with your tongue.”

he groans in response, shamelessly humping the bed now that the ache between his legs has become too prominent to ignore. it flares dangerously every time you say his name or look at him with that blissed out expression written all over your face . . fuck, now you’re telling him exactly what you want and pushing him around, something he’s always enjoyed. his tongue slips into your awaiting cunt and pushes deep, tasting even more of you once he finds that puffy, spongy spot inside of you that makes you clench up every damn time. 

your breaths come in rushed, frantic gasps that soften each word. “fuuuck, right there—yeah, t-that’s it,” your voice shakes involuntarily, tight with inevitable euphoria. “kei, you’re gonna make me cum, hah—‘m real close, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

you chant those last words religiously, and keigo’s offended that you’re thinking he’d ever want to. “on my fuckin’ tongue,” he half groans, half begs, not sure if you even hear him at all.

keigo doesn’t dare to stop until you finally come undone on his tongue, shuddering uncontrollably as he licks you through your high, nearly passing out from a severe lack of oxygen. you’ve got him in a beautiful leglock that he regrets breaking out of, but seeing the dazed, drunken look on your face when he comes up erases the thought from his mind. the entire half of his lower face is covered in your cum, and heat floods your face when his pink tongue darts out to clean up his lips, all while holding your lidded gaze.

a few sanguine feathers float around your face, falling from the air like snowflakes and lightly settling on the bed like rose petals. it seems to make the moment warmer, more romantic as if this is your first time with him—in hindsight, it would’ve been nicer to christen the relationship with a bed of rose petals and scented candles scattered around the room. instead, it was something that happened fast and right after conversations about ex partners.

you pout at him as he positions himself on top of you once again, pressing a wet kiss to your mouth. instinctively, you lick away the mixture of spit and slick he leaves on your lips, tasting yourself on your tongue momentarily. it’s bittersweet and a little syrupy . . maybe he really isn’t lying about you tasting like candy. your thoughts fade away when you catch a glimpse of his vibrant wings — you’ve always seen them, but not like this. this time, you’re up close to them, so close you can see the downy barbs and delicate vanes of each individual feather.

“are your wings . . sensitive?” you ask curiously, voice carrying the barest note of reverence as your hand tentatively inches over his shoulder. after each and every covert tryst of yours, you’ve seen keigo smooth out the feathers or greet you in the morning with stimulating news of his freshly scrubbed wings. but this—touching them—feels like crossing an unspoken threshold.

keigo doesn’t answer, his breath catching in his throat. he’d been in the middle of dazedly tugging his boxers down his body when you’d just dropped a miniature bomb on him. this is the first time that he’s been this astonished, features mellowing profoundly. soon, he finds his voice and uses it, words intertwined with an unexpected tenderness: “ . . it’s alright. they’re just a little sensitive, heh. nobody’s ever touched them before.”

as if they understand you’re talking about them, his wings shift toward your fingers, obviously inviting you to touch them. this is certainly new — for the first time, his defiant wings are actually yearning to be touched, even though they get a little choosy when it’s him who’s brushing his hands through the feathers. gingerly, you reach forward and your hand disappears into the mussed feathers, fingertips brushing lightly against the sensitive skin beneath. the apex of his wings is abundant with small, downy feathers that quiver at your touch.

his eyelids flutter shut and he emits a shy moan, swallowing a sudden heart-shaped lump in his throat. courage swells in your chest and you push further, awed by the all-encompassing softness that meets your fingers. you’d expected them to be coarse, rough from years of flying and smelling earthy or musky. the faint scent of mango wafts through the air, stirring up a sense of familiarity and comfort in your chest, reminding you of all the times he’d protectively wrap his wings around your body as if to steady you. 

“they feel so nice,” you murmur, feeling his cock throb against your thigh. it draws you back into the moment, where you’re naked beneath him with anticipatory legs sprawled open. “so . . soft.”

keigo’s buzzing when you experimentally stroke your fingers through the thin feathers, an intimate form of worship that is only understood between the two of you. “you, ah, didn’t expect them to be?”

a wind created by his flapping wings kick up your curtains and make the metal rings clatter on the bar they’re hanging on. “i thought they’d be a little rougher,” you purr, voice smooth and sultry as your legs lift, locking tightly around his waist. his v-line is visibly sharp and hard to the touch like cut marble against the pillowy skin of your thighs, muscles flexing as he guides his cock to your soaked pussy. 

“i’ll show you rough, dovey,” keigo huffs, smearing his cock with your slick and pulling your legs away from his sides. he’s going to fuck you up, and he can’t do it properly in this position—your feet are thrown haphazardly over his shoulders, thighs folded tightly against your chest. he’s painfully hard, leaking sticky precum all over and trembling by the time he pushes the tip of his cock between your folds. your response is immediate; an eager moan slips out of your mouth, hips bucking impatiently onto his cock.

“damn, baby,” his chest heaves tirelessly, skin flushed pink and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, “you’re ready f’me, aren’t you?”

you look up at him with dewy eyes, electricity shooting through your every nerve. “i-if i was made for—ah—anything, it was taking your cock.”

god, you can’t just say shit like that and cluelessly think he won’t actually fall in love with you—he was only asking for a simple ‘yes’, but now he’s got hearts in his eyes as he finally pushes inside you, swallowing down the sudden urge to blow his load this fast. pulsating, gummy walls wrap around him and seem to suck him deeper without him even moving; he weakly presses his head into your shoulder, gasping frantically as he tries to adjust to the grip you’ve got on him.

“f-fuckkk,” he stutters out, regaining his cool composure after a moment despite the room feeling like a sauna, “i’m gonna hold you to that, you better not forget it.���

he’s relentless, going from zero to sixty in a second with no thoughts of slowing down — he’s jackhammering his hips, curved cock ramming right into your sweet spot and french kissing your cervix. you’re dripping wet, slick pouring down your ass and making each thrust slip ‘n slide all the more smoothly; the bed creaks ceaselessly beneath the weight of your bodies, groaning so loudly it occurs to you that it might just break. but that isn’t even a problem, not with keigo, who’d drop a ton of money on something you could just express the slightest bit of interest in.

“h-holy fuck, keigo,” you gasp out, back arching off the bed, “i could—oh my god, i could cum just from this.”

“yeah, dovey?” he grins, voice tight as he quite literally plunges deeper into heaven. “jus’ from my cock?”

sweat beads on your forehead, making your body swelter with endless steam that seems to vaporize any inhibitions you still had after all the drinks. “nghh, w-wait, ‘m gonna cum—”

“wait?” keigo practically barks out a laugh, shaking his head ruefully at you, “there’s no waiting. i want you to cum right on my cock ‘n i’ll fuck you through it, dovey.” 

you nod with mascara infused tears streaming down your face, legs quaking uncontrollably. everything seems to happen at once — a twinge of pain takes root in the backs of your thighs just as the built-up tension inside you snaps into thousands of sparks, finally igniting your long awaited orgasm.

keigo forces himself to keep his eyes open despite the fact that he’s risking an early orgasm, balls clenching at the sight of you: your lips form an o shape as euphoria washes over you, making your body quiver frenetically. he swallows dryly, closely rocking his hips against yours so you don’t push him out. 

“kei,” is the first thing you sob out when you recover, struggling to catch your breath with every thrust fucking the air out of your lungs. you’re sensitive all over, skin prickling with heat that doesn’t cool even with his wings creating a draft. 

he’s straining tight at the seams, heart pounding in his ears as he thinks of nothing but you.

you, you, you.

with your sweet, glossy-lipped smile in the mornings and the voice of a vixen when you innocently call his name. you’re nothing less than beautiful beneath him, clawing at his shoulders and staring up at him with those glazed over, blissed out eyes while your body molds against his. it’s a shape he knows well, one he’s pictured in his head when he’s all alone, one he’s been dreaming about whenever his eyes close.

his breath catches in his throat. “haah, fuck—dovey, i can’t hold it anymore.”

“right fuckin’ there,” your voice cracks into a squeal, “mhm, jus’ cum inside me.”

“you mean it?” keigo asks dumbly, nearly melting at the wild look you throw him in response.

“yeah, kei—shit, ‘m gonna cum again,” the words rush past your lips, urgent as ever and spurring him on to keep going, “i want you to—i need you to fill me up.”

something sweet flashes behind his gold eyes and he tucks his face into your shoulder, breath coming in frantic pants while he gasps your name. you’re practically in your own world, moaning loudly and dragging his slim hips closer to your own. when his cock starts to twitch deep inside you, the heel of your palm digs into his lower back, forcing his tip right against your cervix. he’s burning hot, utterly lost in you with no way of finding his way out — cum spurts from his cock and the spasms wrack his body, each stripping away a layer of him until he’s left with only his heart in his hands. 

“i fucking love you,” it rushes out and he doesn’t regret it for a second, “god, baby. i love you so much.”

your eyes roll back as your body surrenders to the toe-curling sensation of your third orgasm of the night, euphoria hitting you from all directions and rendering you clinically cock drunk. you muster just enough strength to wipe the salty tears away from your eyes, teeth chattering just the slightest bit as you drag in a gasping breath. 

after a moment, you yawn, stretching out your folded body and nudging at his chest to get him to lay down beside you. “ooh, that was great, kei. there’s no fucking way i’m walking tomorrow.”

coming down is the hardest part.

keigo’s shaken to his core by your flippant response to his confession, but most of all, he’s deeply embarrassed to have said something—no, to have thought something this stupid. finally, he’s getting a taste of karma from all of his failed relationships; he wishes that he could allow himself enough pity to ask the abyss of the universe what he did to deserve this. the heat that had once been sexy dissipates immediately, leaving him as cold as a corpse. he rolls over to the side, letting go of you and staring up at the ceiling, laying on top of wings that don’t even have enough life to twitch. pathetic tears prick at the corners of his marked eyes, and for the first time, he’s happy that the lights are off.

“keigo? did you hear me?”

“sorry, i didn’t. what was it you were saying?” he drags a forearm across his sweaty forehead, overlooking the tender inflection in your voice.

“i just . . i don’t know. that was really good,” he may not hear it, but you do. quickly, you clear your throat and tug up the blankets, inviting him to crawl underneath with you. “goodnight, kei.”

he should bite his tongue, but he doesn’t; this is the last time. “goodnight, dovey.”

☆ ☆

after tossing and turning the whole night, keigo finally decides to end the torture at 5:20 am the next morning. it’s still dark out, and he figures that he can easily slip away under the cover of night. he’s got a mild hangover, but it won’t impair him, not when he’s determined to keep it together until he gets back home.

soberly, he absorbs his surroundings and recalls the memories that have been plaguing him for hours. his body tenses, thick cords of muscle pulling taut as if he’s bracing against the impact of a punch, and like it has countless times before, the scene replays in his head again. his emotional, devoted admission of love was something you’d completely ignored—again and again, you’ve only ever shown an interest in his body.

in his chest, he feels his heart clench horribly as he looks over your sleeping form. you’re curled up in yourself under the warm blankets, turned toward him with a serene look on your face that makes it all the more difficult to slip out from under the sheets and into the cold. like a cat, he silently pads into the hallway and collects his clothes as if he was never there. he’s inches away from the back door he’d been so excited to step through last night when he stops in his tracks, head hanging lowly as pangs of guilt hit him like fists. it’s not right to just leave you like this, not without making an effort to say some kind of goodbye.

keigo hesitates in the hallway, feet seemingly glued to the floor. all he can hear are loud alarm bells—every instinct is begging him to leave, to spare himself the imminent heartbreak of going back in that room to see you. against his better judgment, he eventually tiptoes into your room with every intention of giving you one final kiss. at your bedside, he bends forward and presses his lips to your forehead; the kiss is entirely chaste, the brief touch carrying a blend of quiet grief and the tenderness of a love that was bound to fall through.

like most things in his life, this kiss doesn’t go as planned. there’s a momentary flash of blue and white—he’s managed to give you a strong, accidental static shock with an innocent kiss at 5:22 in the morning. you blearily wake up, squinting up at him in confusion and making out the high collar of his hero jacket.

“good morning, keigo,” you stretch under the blankets and reach for his hand, “what—what time is it?”

“it’s early,” he answers unsurely, sitting down on the foot of the bed. his wings droop, vermilion plumes seemingly inanimate. “y’know what, don’t worry about it. go back to sleep, baby.”

“but where’re you going?” you sit up abruptly, eyes narrowing at his fully clothed body. a glance over the edge of the bed reveals that he’s even got his boots on! 

“i’ve got patrol, silly,” keigo picks the easiest excuse out of an array of choices, and you sniff it out immediately. “i’m a hero, remember?” silence hangs in the air for a moment before you slowly speak up, sounding more confused than anything else. “but saturdays and sundays are your off days.”

keigo pauses, tongue sliding over his teeth as he contemplates what to say now that he’s been caught in his lie. like an idiot, he’s managed to trap himself. you scoff, cognitive functions coming to back to life as the final vestiges of sleep fade away into the ruined morning. did he actually expect you to wake up naked and hungover, all by yourself?

“okay, you caught me. i’ve got some stuff to deal with.”

“this early? c’mon, why’re you in such a rush?”

ultimately, it’s best for the both of you if he pulls away.

keigo’s usual smile drops and he sighs, “i’ve got shit to do, okay?”

it’s this early in the morning, and your blood pressure is already spiking in a way that is most undesirable. “are you fucking kidding me, keigo?”

the way you say his name so angrily, so accusingly—it fucking irks him, causing the corners of his lips to pull downwards into a scowl. he’s not really angry at you, he’s angry at himself for causing this dilemma to begin with, but you don’t know that. how could you really know anything about him aside from the way he likes to fuck?

“why are you getting so damn pissy? i’m going to leave whether you want me to or not, okay?”

stark naked, you exit the safety of the bed and make a beeline to your dresser, where you yank open drawers in search of clothes. keigo stands, watching longingly as you pull on some panties and a bra.

“i’m getting pissy because you wanted to take off so i could wake up naked and alone! you didn’t even say goodbye.”

“i was trying to,” keigo argues back, jumping to his feet, “but you were the one who ruined that for yourself, didn’t you?”

“a kiss isn’t enough!” you snap, now covered in a loose t shirt and pajama shorts. “couldn’t you have just waited a few hours? maybe then you could’ve told me why you were leaving.”

“what the hell? so you’re saying i need a reason to go back to my own house?”

“i don’t see why you think you can lie to me!” your voice raises furiously, words sharp as daggers, “i’m not just your agent, keigo. i know you, i care about you! don’t you get that?”

it’s quickly evolved into a dangerous game of catch, the pressure to be the one to drop the ball growing heavier atop his shoulders with each passing moment. painfully, a vein in his forehead pulses from the headache brought on by the hangover and the memories that follow it. it’s been hours and he can’t seem to shake away the pain that gnaws away at him. he’s so stupid.

“yeah, i know you are,” keigo grits out bitterly, “all i wanted to do was leave.”

“so abruptly?” you press him for answers, flicking on a small lamp so you can see him clearly. deep wrinkles span the entirety of each article of clothing that hangs on his body, but it’s the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes that makes him look unusually sloppy, getting you to pause as you take the sight of him in. concerned for his wellbeing, you soften, body relaxing. “what—keigo, what’s wrong?”

“it’s just the hangover,” he squints defensively, backing away and into a corner, “anyway, you got your goodbye, didn’t you?”

your gentle, worried face falls away. it hurts more than any injury he’s ever gotten, but he has to keep the walls up to protect himself from the pain even though guilt slips in through the cracks like mustard gas. with a pinched sigh, keigo backs away from the wall, wings limply hanging behind him as he prepares to exit your bedroom with no intention of ever coming back.

he’s blindsiding you, lying to you out of nowhere and slipping through your fingers like steam, too elusive for his own good. without a second thought, you close the distance and grab firmly at his wrist, a gesture that would’ve worked once. “i can’t do this anymore,” he mutters without looking over his shoulder, snatching away from you as if he’s been burned. “i just . . i can’t.”

“what’re you—what do you mean, keigo?” he looks out into the distance of the hallway, focusing on a specific floor tile and tracing its grooves so he doesn’t have to see your face. just from your voice, he knows you must be absolutely crushed. for courage, he allows himself a steady inhale before stepping past the threshold and leaving you in the lurch.

“this,” keigo turns, gesturing wildly and spitting out the words as if everything that’s happened in this room is horribly filthy, “it’s bullshit, all of it. i’m done, got that?”

there’s a beat of silence, and keigo stays a second too long.

“keigo, you’re breaking my heart here.”

you’re probably referring to the sex, aren’t you? surely you’re disappointed by the fact that you’ll no longer be fucking the no. 2 hero, petting his wings and calling him by a name few are able to.

“oh, come on,” he looks over you sourly, shaking his head as his eyes span the entirety of your body, “you’re pretty. you’ll find yourself a new fuck buddy, it’s not that big of a deal.”

immediately, he regrets saying it, feeling a rush of nausea in his stomach—he doesn’t want you with anyone else.

you blink back tears, his stare suddenly invasive and hurtful. “i don’t want a new fuck buddy, i want you.”

“tough shit,” keigo grunts, wings drooping further down. the longest feathers now drag along the floor, picking up whatever there is to offer. “i’m done being friends with benefits.”

“i just—all this fucking time, i’ve been wasting my time wanting to be with you,” the words tumble out of you bitterly, filling up the space between you with everything you’ve ever wanted to say, and his ears prick, grasping at a possible implication beneath all of it, “god, to think i was afraid we wouldn’t be able to become something more—all of this was a mistake.”

keigo pauses, heart pounding in his ears and possibly affecting his ability to hear. “you’re . . in love with me?”

“i was,” the correction is swift and choked, reverberating straight to his core and making his body stiffen. it hurts more than anything to hear, carrying a horrible weight, the kind that makes him realize you’ve given up on him.

“then why didn’t you—that doesn’t make any sense,” he gasps, the newfound information hitting him like a freight train, “if you were in love with me, why didn’t you—how couldn’t you have said something?”

“what’re you talking about?” you hiss, harshly rubbing away the tears in your eyes with the back of your hand. keigo’s bewildered now, face devoid of anything but shock and some kind of adoration as he seems to process something inside his head.

he stares at you desperately, struggling for the right words, “fuck, dovey, why didn’t you say anything last night?”

“don’t call me that,” you snap, the petname far too fond for a moment like this one, “why would i possibly have said something last night?”

keigo falters, and his voice cracks as the words rush out like a torrent. “i told you that i—god, i fucking told you i loved you. didn’t you hear me?” 

oh.

oh.

his heart squeezes painfully in his chest when the realization washes over your face, making him realize the gravity of this misunderstanding—you didn’t hear him.

wearily, you take a seat on the edge of the bed. he sees the way your spine curves forward, and bites down hard on his lower lip once the first sob slips out of you. in an instant, keigo’s beside you and pulling you into his arms, shaking all over. he doesn’t know what to say, but his voice breaks with endless regret when he finally comes up with something. “i’m sorry, god, i’m so sorry,” tears race down his cheeks and into your hair as he murmurs despairingly, “i thought you didn’t care, i didn’t know—”

there’s nothing more to say. 

keigo tries anyway, brokenly whispering apologies that fade into the air like smoke. his arms are tight around your body, holding you closely — it’s an unspoken promise to never let you go again. for the very first time, he truly melts into you without the walls in the way or the burden of hidden feelings. when you slowly relax against him and your sobs become quieter, something shifts in the air. vermilion wings, once held down by the weight of everything they’ve been carrying, finally come back to life. wings that have had no other purpose but to protect keigo now extend outwards to protect you too, soft feathers cradling you tenderly in the quiet of the morning. just over the horizon, the sun begins to rise, bathing the city in the light of dawn and new beginnings.

[smallfisheyes]

one suggestive paragraph hehe.

nanami kento who just doesn’t love you.

he tries. really. you are so easy to love, but he just can’t seem to love you more than admiration; more than the god-awful belittling role of a friend.

you are kind. he has seen you pick children from rubble. you had single-handedly halted an impeding panic attack that consumed the fushiguro boy. you pay out of pocket so that the children can do normal student activities: arts and crafts, team building activities, classroom and party decorations. he’s watched you be the most beautiful human that he has had the privilege of watching, defending innocents with, laughing with, but for some reason, he just can’t love you.

nanami kento who makes you cry because he says he loves you. trust him, he loves you so much, but as a friend. you had confessed your love for him. he broke your heart.

it was in the parking lot of your favourite post-mission meeting spot: the convenience store. (it’s family-owned, kento had said to you on your first visit as he gently took you by the elbow. it was his retreat. it would be yours too. you cradled the side of your face, your one eye badly bruised and rapidly swelling. you’ll like it here, he insisted. i promise).

the son was at cash that dark morning. kento would get the egg sandwich and coffee, you a banana milk and noodles.

“i’m on a mission to try every flavour,” you had declared one night, feet kicking and humming into your first dinner.

you had shrimp-flavoured noodles that fateful early morning. it was around 2:00 a.m., two second-grade curses with paired techniques. the following day, nanami turned down the offer of a sushi lunch with shoko. he wouldn’t be able to stand seeing shrimp tempura.

nanami kento who understands why you can no longer look him in the eye when you pass each other in the halls. you walk a tempo faster, a cold wind whisked up from your sudden distance and speed. it stings as you pass by. it stings when you rush to exit the staff room when he enters. he only dares to watch you when your back is turned and retreating far, far away from him. something under his sternum aches. he misses you. don’t you know?

it’s so hard to avoid him. he’s so big and he’s everywhere. he’s at work, he’s in the staff office, he’s in your mind. curses, he’s always in your mind.

before, fleeting images of nanami passed by. his small smiles. the big ones you managed to pull because “your humour is so childish,” so ridiculously stupid, but so stupid it makes him laugh anyway. the rumble of his voice that soothes you to sleep, especially the hard nights.

there are also the nights that your hand sneaks below the covers, then the hem of your pants, and thoughts of him doing less than innocent things run like a leaky faucet. it floods your mind, and suddenly, you can’t sleep. the only solution is to keep going until you’re tired. yes, that’s reasonable. besides, how could you not, not when he looked like that.

“what’s with you?” nanami would ask the next morning, then the morning after that, then every morning. it took you about half an hour some mornings (then most) to look him in the eye, your hands trembling around the mug he handed you. did he do something wrong? did he make you uncomfortable? should he back off? (or get back on?). stop thinking like that.

so, why can’t you seem to hate him?

you have seen him pick children from rubble. you have watched nanami perform four black flashes in succession during the black parade when it mattered most: students injured left and right. he pays out of pocket for lunches: yours and the students, with an exception of gojo. (he has a black card, kento ranted into his black coffee. he doesn’t need charity, just an ego check). you’ve watched him be the most beautiful human that you’ve had the privilege of watching, fighting with, laughing with, but for some reason, you love him and he just can’t love you.

if he does not love you, you fear who he does love. would she have long hair? short? curly hair? straight? does she have an excellent taste in fashion? is it more refined or street fashion? lolita or office-type? does she stand taller than you? is she funnier? does she have a million degrees and you’re out on the field doing the exact job nanami despises and fears? is she skinnier? prettier? the woman he would love (loves?) would just be better. he deserves better.

you cannot blame nanami kento for not loving you.

unknowing to him though, he does.

nanami kento stands at the till at the (your) convenience store.

“where’s your buddy?” it’s the son today, the one in desperate need of a haircut. he looks to be in his twenties. he scans nanami’s items: egg sandwich, transparent bandaids, a single carton of banana milk.

“by buddy, if you mean my partner, she is not with me,” nanami notes.

buddy. nanami wants to scoff. what an odd way of describing you.

“sorry, man.” the boy holds his hands out in apology. “didn’t realize you guys were together.”

there is a brief shock that pulls at nanami’s eyes. they widen, his mouth narrowing. together. why was that a less odd way of describing you?

nanami doesn’t notice his chest rising and falling rapidly. “she is my partner at work,” he corrects. he speaks in a murmur, eyes downcast. he studies the yellow carton on the till counter. banana milk. he didn’t even like it that much. a childish drink; childish humour. so full of energy but only experienced by a select special few. (why did you think he’s so special?)

“hmm,” the boy hums. “thought you guys were together. she seemed super into you. she looked at you like,” the boy shrugs his shoulders nonchantly, pressing buttons on the till screen, “like you meant a lot.”

nanami’s stomach sinks. he has to be the worst.

the convenience store bell tolls when nanami exits, paper bag in hand. the coolness of the night hits him. from this far out, he can see the speckle of the stars.

partner, nanami muses. the name suits you. it suits you and him: a pairing. together, as friends.

but not for long.

sorry guys but does anyone else wonder what would happen if nanami didn’t love you? and you love him? i do it all the time lol. if i feel it y’all have to feel it >:)

also it’s 2:00 am here please excuse the thought vomit.

[shidoglazer]

strawberry cream

rin itoshi fluff-smut enemy 2 lovers part 1

use of aphrodisiacs mdni ＠shidoglazer

you were stupidly giggling like a high school girl in love as you sat down on your usual seat in the class, placing your bag in the seat beside you for rin. when the professor walked in, you reached into your bag to grab your half of the project, but weirdly enough, rin wasn’t here yet.

it was only a matter of time that most people have already finished presenting their essay, and he still wasn’t here. well, that was until you heard your professor and rin having a heated conversation for being 40 minutes late to his class. your head lifted and saw rin with that familiar, annoyed look on his face.

“mr. itoshi, mind explaining why you were late to my lecture?” “hah? i was busy.” rin replied vaguely before walking away, only to be stopped by the professor. “you need to fix that attitude.” and before rin can even say something back, you’re pulling him to his seat, apologising to the professor. “sorry .. please don’t fail him, he’s just um, grumpy!..” you give him an apologetic look before walking away, making him sit beside you.

you wanted to scold him, to tell him to die like you usually do, or just tell him to show you his essay — but you couldn’t even muster out a word while remembering what happened yesterday. rin looked bored out of his mind, as if nothing ever happened, don’t fall for that tho. he’s panicking on the inside.

“so.” he looked towards you, and it was evident that you were a complete blushing mess. “the essay?” “oh! right!- let me just, give me your part and i’ll combine them together, yeah.” he hummed, taking out a few slightly crumbled up papers from his bag and sliding them over to you, his hand grazing over yours.

“about yesterday-” “wha?! nothing happened yesterday! um, what yesterday are you talking about? haha..” rin stared at you with a concerned look etched on his face as you organised the papers between your fingertips, clearly avoiding eye contact with him. “i was talking about the money. did you buy anything?” “oh, ah.. bought a strawberry cream sandwich.”

“childish. i’m surprised you don’t have diabetes.” “die.”

the rest of the class went on normally, you both presented and got a decent grade, but after class was a whole different story. “i have a gap between my classes right now.” rin announced blatantly “oh, me too.” the silence was deafening after that part. none of you understood each others hints. “..convenience store?” he blurted out, nothing except that, and god you didn’t need him to say anything else to immediately nod. “yes. you’re paying.” “obviously.”

at the convenience store, you bought the same strawberry cream sandwich and some other “processed trash” as rin calls them, while he bought a “boring ass” microwave lunch, as you call it. you sat down together at the mini bar, striking up random conversations about his football schedule, your interests, what you two saw out of the window in front of you, but something was. off?

even when staring outside of the window, you’d notice his eyes dart to the side to look at you instead of whatever you were talking about. and mid-way through rambling, his hand reached out to your face, cupping it gently before stroking off the strawberry cream left on the corner of your mouth. you were left stunned, confused, flustered— shocked, when you saw him lick it off his thumb. “you eat like a child too.” his face cringes from the overbearing sweet taste, and you can’t help but to smile all giddy, trying to make it at least seem like you’re not enjoying this. “..i hate you so much,” and for the first time in your life, you see rin crack the slightest smile at you.

“hate is a strong word, sweets.”

“and im quite a strong person myself, bitterness.”

it became your daily routine to walk with him to the convenience store each time you had breaks together, sometimes smothering strawberry cream on the corner of your mouth on purpose, just so he could clean it up for you, no matter how much he complained about “you’re just as messy as a toddler.” “you’re gonna make me have diabetes too.” “do you not get tired of this sandwich?” yet you can always see the satisfied look on his face when he realises you finally made a “mess”.

“well, if you hate it so much then stop helping me clean it up.” you said sarcastically. “i need to keep my blood sugar up somehow, sweets. your strawberry cream spikes it perfectly.” and you couldn’t help but to laugh like an idiot, leaning onto his shoulder as you giggled. so he made it his lifes mission to not move an inch as you laid there.

as your laughter died down, his head was leaning onto yours, complete silence except for the air conditioner blowing, so you took this chance to ask the question thats been eating you alive. “hey, rin.” “hm?” “..what are we?”

he didn’t respond instantly. your heart was pounding in your chest, but so was his. both of you don’t know how to communicate well, so you’ve ended up in this situation. “mn.” he hums, as if he was thinking. you were freaking out at this point, why did he have to think? is it because he didn’t really love you like that? that he had to do a double take? what if- “do you want to be official?” the question caught you off guard, you hesitated to reply in fear of making you look too desperate. “i, um. well, do you want to be official?”

you dont even have to look at him to know he rolled his eyes. he grabbed your hand into his, trapping it between both of his hands. “i asked you first.” you grumbled, yet you couldn’t stay mad at him from how gentle his rough hands felt. “you’re annoying.” you paused. “..i do. i really do. i wanna be more then whatever this is. but if you-” “me too. be my girlfriend.” you didn’t have to say anything more for him to blatantly confess just like that. “are you asking or demanding me huh?” “my apologies, your majesty. will her grace so kindly bless me by having a romantic connection between us?”

you scoffed in his face, yet the way you were smiling disregards every negative thought he had. “your grace shall bless you!” you announced proudly, and yet he couldn’t help but to pull you closer, to smile against your head so you could feel it. “you’re still the most annoying, childish girl i know.” “right back at you, clean freak.” you basked in each others warmth for awhile, in a state of disbelief that you both were really in a relationship now. so, why not take it to another step?

the next day was the usual thing, you got your “diabetes sandwich” and rin got his “old man” food, you sat down together at the minibar and purposefully smudged the cream onto the corner of your lips, expecting rin to cup your cheek to rub it away again. this time was different, much different. “you got cream onto the corner your lips again.” “did i? woops.” “mm. let me clean it up for her grace.” still with that stupid nickname.

but instead of his hand reaching out to clean it, he leaned in to kiss you. it was nothing like the kiss you “forced” him to give you, the one that was filled with desire, frustration and hatred. this one was soft, meaningful, the type of kiss that people could write novels about. he sucked onto where the cream was left, pulling away after he got it, smacking his tongue softly a few times to melt it. you were left there like a blushing mess, confused as to what just happened. “wha— hey?? don’t just go silent now !!”

rin cocked an eyebrow, the slightest tint of blush found on his cheeks. “what do you want me to say?” “something! anything!”

“i love you.” ..this was the exact moment you’ve realised you’d never be able to turn back anymore. “…hmph. i hate you.”

you only took a few minutes to immediately get ready, stopping by the convenience store to buy your usual strawberry sandwich and a normal lunchbox for him before heading over to his dorm. you knocked a few times, and you swore you heard a battlefield going on there from how much tripping and banging you heard as he ran over to the door.

he opened the door casually, letting you in and shutting the door before immediately wrapping his arms around you tightly, panting and shaking. you didn’t hesitate to hug him back, but it was still weird, he’s never been so .. clingy. “rinnie, whats wrong?”

“i, uhm.. hah, stupid teammate (shidou) gave me some weird chocolate n’said it boosts performance but, mnngh, i- i feel really hot and uncomfortable, jus need you to be here with me.” without another word, you quickly brought him to the bed and took off his shirt to cool him down, using his shirt to wipe off any sweat. “jeez.. what’d they even give you? you’re sweating like crazy.”

his arm threw over his eyes, crying out a choked noise out of discomfort as his other hand gripped the bedsheets tightly. “can’t..” he shifted onto his side, and thats when you noticed the godly hard boner tenting in his sweatpants. “..rinnie, any chance they gave you an aphrodisiac as a prank?” “m’gonna kill them,”

he sat up and reached out for his phone, immediately going to his soccer teams group chat and starting to type a series of vulgarities that nobody can repeat unless they want to go to hell. you took the phone out of his hands and throw it to the side, smiling softly as his childishness. “…its not like you don’t have someone to help you with it, right?” he shook his head so hard you felt like it was going to fall off. “no, i don’t wanna use you like that, feels so wrong.”

you didn’t wait another second to straddle onto his lap, both hands resting on either side of his shoulders, both of you being a flustered and blushing mess. “y..you sure you don’t want it? even just a little bit?” and it wouldn’t take a genius to know his dick twitched vigorously underneath you. “y’re driving me crazy..”

“more .. more.. need s’much more of you..” rin was blabbering like a little kid while thrusting into you with that vigorous pace, making the bed creak every time he does so. you were completely and utterly exhausted, you don’t know what type of aphrodisiac they even gave him for him to not be tired after 4? 5? 8? orgasms, you lost track after the second one.

truth be told, the aphrodisiac wore off ages ago, yet he knew something like this wasn’t ever going to come so easily in the future again, hell, he’ll milk himself dry if it means doing it like this with you. “rin.. y’re gonna kill me,” you mumbled softly, having no more energy to spare to even lift your hips for him

“won’t. love you t’much to kill you. just one more baby, please, m so close, please.” and shit, how could you say no when he sounded so vulnerable for you? the stoic and cold itoshi rin begging for you in that weak voice, who the hell would be able to restrain themselves? “..yeah.. jus’ one more..” your limbs wrapped around rins body to pull him closer, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you were letting out a breathy moan each time he hit that godly sweet spot.

“s’close.. inside or out this time mm?” you were too dazed with your orgasm gradually building up inside you, “i, don’t know.. m gonna cum rinnie!” “getting cockdrunk already? y’re so fragile.” nevertheless, just to be safe, he pulled out just as soon as he was on the edge. well, he tried to, but your limbs locked and pushed him closer, “brat- stop, let go, i’m gonna-” “m on the pill..” you cut him off abruptly, and that was more than enough for him.

his hips stuttered a few times before releasing his load into you, fucking it into you continuously as he let out a choked whimper, clinging onto your body as he continued to use his cock to shove his cum deeper and deeper into you. “i love you— i love you, i loveyouiloveyouiloveyou, y’re mine.” you let out a small whine of acknowledgment, falling limp onto the bed as he let go and pull out of you. you were out of breath, eyebrows furrowed and legs trembling. and rin thinks he fucked up.

“i.. i’m so sorry. i didnt mean to- i,” he scooped you into his arms hurriedly and brought you over to his bathroom, setting you into the bathtub as he got the water running. “princess, please tell me you’re okay. did i go too rough? i’m sorry.” and its funny how his face is completely full of frustration and hurt when you just had the best experience in your life. “no baby. it felt good. really good. okay?” and all rin can do is nod unsurely, his hand stroking your hair every now and then.

he briefly cleaned up in the shower while you soaked in the bath tub, changing into his usual hoodie and shorts before looking at the time, it was late. way too late to go home alone. so, he took a random jersey and shorts, set it down beside the tub and waited for you in bed.

you caught on quickly, flashing him a small smile as you got out the tub and dressed into his oversized clothes before immediately pouncing onto him on the bed, nuzzling into his chest.

“my moms gonna be ecstatic when she finds out about us, rinnie.”

“mm. good. she should be. her daughters dating such a handsome guy, whats there not to be happy about?” “you are literally your biggest fan huh?” and it’s probably the first time in your life that you heard rin chuckle. he doesn’t waste time to pull you closer and kiss your head. “go to sleep. i love you.”

“i love you too.”

few minutes later when rin dozed off already ..

masterlist

im craving strawberry sando now

tagging the people who asked for part 2 ★

@cheriiepies @chuurinnie @yoichiglazer @rin-rinmicheal @wettvagina @asphodeloss

[mahmahmahmysharona]

When you and Bob have your first time…twice (pt. 1)

Bob Reynolds x Avenger Reader (Part 5/?)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Here is what you learned about Bob after the kiss:

He loved kissing. Seriously, anytime you two were left alone, he was on you. In the day, these were light and quick, stolen out of the air in small moments of privacy. At night, when you two could hide out somewhere in the tower, they could be long, feverish kisses that left you both off-balance.

He stayed up late and woke up early. You never know what he did between those hours, but you were always dozing off before he did, and when you woke up, he’d already be alive to the world, watching the sunrise through the window or staring up at the ceiling. You wished you could learn the sound of him sleeping.

He waited up for you on nights when you headed out on missions. No matter how small, how easy, he was always there when you got back. (Apparently, he always did this.) Now, when you headed back to your room in the early hours, you’d barely touch your door before you heard his creaking open and felt him reaching out for you. He would follow you inside and watch you get ready for bed, climbing in beside you and letting you nest your head in the crook of his shoulder. Soon, it became the only way you could sleep at all.

You and Bob tried to hide your new relationship as much as you could at first.

You both acted normal in front of the rest of the team, but found solace in spending the nights hidden in one of your rooms. Honestly, it wasn't much different to what you were doing before — only this time, there was a newfound level of physical intimacy you were both trying to adjust to.

You hadn’t been in a relationship for years, thanks to your newfound status as an enhanced being and your never-ending line of duty. And Bob…well, Bob had his own reasons for a gap in his resume.

To put it bluntly, neither of you were novices in this particular field, but you weren’t exactly pros, either.

But it was undeniable: You both wanted each other. Now that you were allowed to, it was hard not to let the nights were you held each other get overheated fast. But you both broke away before things got in too deep. It became harder and harder, especially the more you fell for him.

Putting it down to a combination of shyness and lack of experience, you decided one day that it would be best to bite the bullet and take the plunge.

"Bob," you said one afternoon in the kitchen, with you and Bob eating lunch and hiding your joined hands under the counter. "Do you want to have sex with me?"

He let out a noise: half a laugh, half a strangled choke. "...What?" he asked.

"You heard me."

"Uh..." He looked around. It took him a few coughs to clear whatever food was now stuck in his throat from the double take. "Yeah. I mean, of course. Do you?"

"Yes." You picked some of the crust off your sandwich. You hadn't planned the conversation beyond this point. "Then I think we should. Tonight?"

He blinked. Then, remembering himself, he nodded, trying to match your professional tone. "Okay. Uh...looking forward to it."

You laughed: thank god. That was done with. And soon, you'd both have gotten over the initial awkwardness, and the real fun could begin.

That night, you waited up, wore your pyjama shorts and tank (the only thing you had that could even remotely be considered as alluring) and sat on the edge of your bed. You waited until you heard a knock at the door, and Bob came in.

He shut the door behind him and waited, softly smiling. There was too much waiting going on. "Hey. Come here," you told him, patting the mattress next to you. He moved over to your side, but you both remained in your own spot.

Eventually, he broke the silence. "I didn't know if you wanted me to get...stuff," he said. "Or if you already had."

"Stuff?"

"Condoms," he clarified. It wasn't a word you thought you'd hear Bob say when you first met him. Mind you, you never thought you'd be sitting here with him, getting ready to do what you were about to do. (Or at least, what you thought you were about to do.)

"Oh," you let out a small, breathy laugh. "Don't worry about that. It's not a problem."

He mimicked your laugh, not quite knowing why. "It's not?"

"I can't get pregnant. So, you know, it's your lucky day."

His eyebrows knitted together. "...What do you mean?"

"Just because of...what happened to me. The serum changed my biology. They said a lot of normal stuff isn't possible for me anymore."

You've told people this fact before enough times for it to become painless. But now, seeing the shattered look on Bob's face, you suddenly remembered the weight of it once again. You shifted in your seat, tearing your gaze away from him.

"I'm sorry," he said, resting his hand on your thigh. "...We don't have to do this if you don't want. Not tonight."

You snapped your eyes back up to him. You didn't want pity. You didn't want time. You wanted normalcy. You wanted him. You leaned forward and kissed him, bringing your hand up to his face and pulling him in.

He hesitated, but reciprocated as soon as he knew it was okay for him to do so. You stayed like this for a while, your lips moving against each other as you inched closer and closer. When his hand gripped your thigh harder, you took a sharp breath in. The sound seemed to flip a switch in him, and he brought his other arm to your hips, pulling you in and closing the gap between you.

You followed the movement and lifted yourself up, throwing your leg over him and resting yourself on his lap. Your arms looped around his neck, and you felt his hands grip handfuls of flesh on either side of your thighs.

"Do you want me, Bob?" you asked into his lips.

"Yes," he gasped in return. "You know I do."

In response, you rocked your hips against him, feeling the firm pressure underneath. He let out a soft moan, gripping you tighter, wrapping his arms around you. His lips found your cheek, your chin, your neck, striking the balance between pressing softly and giving away the hunger he was feeling from having you on top of him.

Your mouth found his earlobe, and you nipped at the skin there. "God," you heard from below you.

Taking that as a sign, you gently pushed him backwards until he was laying flat on the bed with you mounted above him. At being distanced from you suddenly, he appeared agitated, reaching up and grabbing you by the arms to pull you down and kiss you once more.

You rocked back and forth, increasing the friction between you, feeling him harden impossibly between your thighs. At seeing his face — a muddled mix of pleasure and concentration — you reached your hand down between you and guided your palm over him. The exhale he released was low and loaded. He was trying to hold back, and you didn't want him to.

As you slipped your hand along the border of fabric and firm muscle, one of his hands found your hair, hooking a handful and tugging gently. Finally breaking through, you reached down and took him in your grip. At the feel of him, you let out a soft hum, but he was nothing compared to the gasp that came from him.

"Shit," he said. "Oh, shit."

You held him in your hand, gently and slowly moving up and down, enjoying the feeling of his hips rising up to yours with each motion. He pulled on your hair even more, bringing your face down to his so your breaths became entangled between you. You increased your movement, pumping your hand harder. Bob moaned into your mouth, and you couldn't help it — your own moan followed, his name coming out right alongside it—

Suddenly, there was the sound of shattering glass. A lot of it.

A yell echoed from across the tower: "Holy hell!"

You and Bob sat bolt upright. You looked at him. He looked at you. You were both pink in the face and panting. It only took a second — and god, you didn't want to — but you slipped off him and went to the door.

"What the hell was that?" you asked, still feeling the knocks of your heart against your chest pounding through you.

"Uh...I think...I think that was me."

You turned to look at Bob. He was still sitting there, still at attention, now with a slightly bashful look painted on his face. You looked at him and back at the door.

"I'll be right back," you told him. You slipped outside, wandering towards the kitchen. When you got there, Walker is standing in the dark, in his pyjamas, staring at a pile of broken glass. It seemed every glass in the cabinet exploded, shattering fragments across the kitchen. Walker looked at you, dumbfounded.

"I just came in for some water, I swear to god," he said.

"Well..." You paused. "You know where the dustpan and brush is."

As you walked back to your room, you heard him yell, "But I didn't do this!"

"I don't see anyone else in the room with you!" you called back.

When you returned to your room, you were disappointed to see Bob standing, seemingly recovered from the position you were in not just a few minutes ago. Seeing your confusion, he came to you, grabbing your arms and pulling you closer.

"Is it a mess?" he asks, pressing his lips to your head.

"Yes. You really did that?"

"I guess so. I think I got overwhelmed, but in a good way. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I’m sorry. Maybe I pushed this too hard and too fast. I just wanted…I just wanted us to—”

“I know. Me too.”

God, now you wanted him even more. He’d never believe it if you told him, but you honestly thought that out of everyone in the building, Bob was the only one who ever said what you wanted to hear. You reached out and pulled him in. You felt his hand at the back of your neck, stroking the skin there. You wanted him again, and he wanted you (you could tell from the sound of his fluttering heartbeat by your cheek), but you wanted to let it be. You wanted to wait.

Turns out, you wouldn’t have to wait for much longer after all.

Coming soon: …Pt. 2.

Tag list: @purplefluffycows @i-shall-abide @avengersinitiative2012 @tatsunesworld @lovelyypythoness @yujyujj

[writingslob]

(Part 2) Lin Ling's guide to becoming an emotional support civilian [YANDERE EDITION]

[TO BE HERO X] x [LIN LING] [Part 1; Part 3 can be found here!]

Context warning: Cursing

Author's note: Finally! I'm finished! This took a hot second, but I hope you guys enjoy this as much as the 1st one!

Once again, thank you @kiraisrika for the idea! [ Also, @izarosf1833, you now owe me your firstborn. I'll be expecting it by mail on Wednesday >: ) ]

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.

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Lin Ling was having one hell of a weird day.

Not a bad day, not a good day. 

Just a weird day. 

Following Miss Juan and her crew into the lobby of Hero’s Tower. (His heart was beating frantically in his chest. He can feel his inner child fist-bumping the air because he’s finally here! After all these years, he’s here-!) He can’t help but try to get out of Nice’s grasp, his white hair tickling his jaw. “Man, can you like” —stop clinging to me like a koala— “not?” No matter how hard he tugged, Nice’s grasp was as hard as steel. 

“Nope!”

And that was that. 

The elevator ride was an equally awkward affair—the only sounds being the dull music, tapping of nails on tablet, and the light breaths of everyone in the elevator. The only one who wasn’t awkward was Nice, but Lin Ling, drunk off of hysteria and exhaustion, suspected that he had taken something and was high off his rocker, if only to make sense of this nonsensical situation. 

Like he knew he had ‘relaxation powers,’ but his number wasn’t nearly high enough for this! Hell, it wasn’t even affecting Miss Juan and the other men who were standing at arm’s length of him! Really, the only thing his powers should be doing is offering the same calming effects as lavender, not acting like…like-like catnip to drug-addicted cats! 

‘Holy shit, I compared Nice to a drug-addicted cat. What is my life?’ 

“We’re here,” Miss Juan announced, breaking him out of his thoughts before they could spiral even further. Stepping out into the apartment, he looks around, and he has to admit.

It sucks. 

Now, when he imagined a superhero’s apartment, and one belonging to the 15th hero at that, he imagined something grand, with white walls lined with gold and classical elements strung around to give it a real luxurious, Victorian feel. But even without those expectations, this is just a sad apartment. What with its barren walls devoid of life, not a single small plant to liven the space, and the less said about the gaudy, grandiose statue in the middle, the better. 

“Do you like it?” Nice ask, turning to look at him. Lin Ling doesn’t know what face he is making, but it must have shown his true feeling as Nice barks out a laugh. “Yeah, me neither.” He perks up. “But! Since you’ll be living here from now on, you can redecorate all you want! No budget! Here, let me give you a tour.” Detaching himself only to immediately grab onto his hand, Nice floats into the sky and begins to tug him when-

“Not so fast.” A hand shot out and grabbed onto Nice’s cape, yanking him back down to the ground. “We don’t have time for house tours. You two are coming with me and are going to sign enough papers to make your hands bleed, do you understand?” All Lin Ling can do is nod. Nice rolls his eyes, but they both dutifully follow Miss Juan as she leads them to the office. 

The office was just as sparsely decorated as the rest of the house, with only two white couches facing each other, a long glass table in between, and bookshelves sandwiching everything together. The only good part was the window wall, letting in enough light that they didn’t need to turn on the lights if they wanted to. 

Sitting stiffly on one couch with Nice and Miss Juan on the other, what ensued was a full hour and a half of back and forth between Nice and Miss Juan that was one blow away from a full-blown fistfight. He also had to sign enough papers to—like she said—make his hands bleed. 

His vision started blurring around the fifth paper, and by the 20th, his eyes were gorilla-glued together. It took all his strength not to faceplant into the stack of papers and sleep away the next year and then some.

“- He will not be joining you in your stunts with Wreck. How many times do I have to tell you before you get it through your thick skull?! “And how many times do I have to tell you that if he’s not joining me, I’m out! Permanently! What? Do you want me to spell it in blood? I’ll do it!” “Oh, for the love of God, you are acting like a child!” “And you’re acting like a bitch!” “You-!”

Okay, that’s it. “Can I go to the bathroom?” He asked quietly and flinched slightly as both snapped their heads at him. “Fine. Be quick.” “I’ll go with you!” They both said simultaneously. Miss Juan intensified her glare at Nice, but he was already getting up from the couch to follow him. 

“Huh? What? No! I- Thank you, but I really don’t want you following me to the bathroom.” Realizing a beat too late that it sounded a tad too rude, he awkwardly tacked on “Besides, you two still need to finish up...whatever you guys were talking about! Don’t worry! I’ll be back in a flash!” 

Nice narrows his eyes, looking like he wants to argue further. After a second and a half of silence, Nice sighs.

“Promise?” Lin Ling nodded in rapid succession, “Promise!”

He jogged out of the office. The door clicks softly behind him. Not looking back, he runs.

He didn’t know where he was headed, and frankly didn’t care. This wasn’t how his day was supposed to turn out. He was supposed to be at work, hunched over his computer as he edited frame by frame, or he was supposed to be in his boss's office, getting yelled at over his promo videos. Or, he was suppose to be at the ledge, looking death in the face before chickening out and going back to his shitty one bedroom apartment to enjoy another cup noodle dinner.

He wasn’t supposed to be here—why was he even still here in the first place? He should just take the elevator down and go back home. Leave this all behind him and—

“Hey! Cheer up!”

The elevator was in sight; just a few more steps to get there. But, even if deaf and blind, he would recognize that voice anywhere. Turning his head, he saw a blimp outside, displaying. 

“....Moon?”

“Being alive means experiencing many challenges, but please, don’t lose faith!”

Moon voices wash over him, and he can’t help but remember the long nights spent at his desk—the only light coming from the bright LED monitor in front of him, burning his eyes with its glow, and how the only thing that kept him going was her encouragement.

Does he want to leave Nice?

Sure, the last few hours were the most overwhelmed he has ever felt and sure, Nice was- well pushy was to put it mildly. But, does he really want to leave? Leave Nice and go back home to no one?  Continue his life like this never happened?

You don’t have a responsibility to Nice.

No, he doesn’t; he knows that. But… Nice’s mental state is clearly in tatters, and if his presence—if his ability—can bring him some peace, then he’ll stay. He may not be a hero, but if he can help one person, then that’ll be enough. 

If Lin Ling can be a hero to one person, that’ll be enough.

.

.

.

Stepping back into the room (he did genuinely need that bathroom break), he was surprised to find the place as neat as when he first walked in. Honestly, he was expecting a war zone. 

Miss Juan looked like someone had pulled multiple teeth out of her—scowling and rapidly typing something away on her table. Meanwhile, Nice looked like he just caught the canary. His smile was wide, smug, and real. (Looking at it, he can’t help but compare it to all the others he's seen before- plastered on billboards and ads. He never noticed how fake they were before.) “You came back.” Nice tilts his head to look at him, his smile softening. 

Lin Ling tilted his head back at him. Of course he did. “Of course I did,” he answers simply, taking a seat back on the couch. Nice wastes no time in scooting over until their bodies touch. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Nice’s tense body relaxing, his shoulder slumping, and his perfect posture faltering just a bit. 

“Ehm,” Miss Juan cleared her throat, breaking Lin Ling out of his train of thought. He turns back to her, “We finally managed to draft up a final contract for your—” Wait, what? “Hold on, what were the ten million other papers I signed before for then?” She raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “NDAs, of course. Since you will be living here, you are bound to see other superheroes and their teams. So, you have to sign an NDA for every single one of them.”

“Now this—” She waves a single white paper up in the air before placing it on the table. Nice reaches out to straighten it out while she continues, “—is an offer of employment to join Treeman Corp as Nice’s emotional support civilian. Inside, I have outlined all of the benefits you will receive when you join us.”

Yeah, that makes sense- Hold on. Snatching the paper off the table, his eyes skimmed to- Holy shit, there it is. Written in bold black ink. 

“EMOTIONAL SUPPORT HUMAN!? Why is that the name!?” He stares up incredulously at Miss Juan, only for Nice to reply.

“It fits, no?” He cocks his head as he skims the contract. “Originally she wanted your title and job to be one of a personal assistant, but!” His smile widened, bordering on blinding. “You will not have to lift a single finger as long as you stay by my side! So, we changed it to this!”

“…”

“Do you like it?”

“…Just hand me the pen.”

.

.

.

Lin Ling was starting to get nervous. 

After signing the contract (He tried getting the name changed to anything- anything else, but, coupled with Nice’s puppy eyes and Miss Juan pointedly looking at the clock, he gave up and just accepted his fate, his embarrassing, embarrassing fate), Miss Juan immediately chaperoned them to True Love Recipe’s studio where they were shoved into the makeup room with what he assumed to be the script and were told to wait for the makeup artist. 

They were told that 30 or so minutes ago at 7:00 pm.

It was now 7:43 pm

The show starts at 8.

Lin Ling was getting anxious, and from the sound of Nice reshuffling every item on the desk and him glancing at his phone every minute, so was he. 

“Shouldn’t the makeup artist be here by now?” Nice looked up, offering a reassuring smile to Lin Ling. “Don’t worry, he’s often late, so this isn’t out of the norm for him.” He gnaws on his lip, glancing at his phone. “Still,” He presses, “It might be a good idea to do your own makeup, Nice. Just in case he’s a no-show.”

Nice hums, “I should." He pauses, "There is a problem, however.” Holding up a finger, he turns to Lin Ling with an almost embarrassed smile, “I don’t know how to do makeup.”

“For real?” “Yes.” He turns back to the assorted makeup, picking up two of the nearest bottles. “It shouldn’t be too hard, though, it’s just blush and cream, right?” Lin Ling couldn’t help but snort, the sound making Nice blush a faint pink. “Here,” Getting up from the couch, he walks over and plucks the two bottles out of his hands. “Sit, I’ll do it for you.” Nice stared at him in shock before immediately slamming himself down into the chair. 

Leaning in close, he can’t help but marvel at how smooth his face is, not an acne scar in sight. This will make his job real easy then. Looking at the makeup supplies on the desk, he picks up a highlight and contour palette along with a big bristle brush. Opening the thing up, he begins to paint.

He should keep the makeup light, he muses to himself as the soft, repetitive motion of blending and smoothing things out lulls him into a trance, just enough so the stage lights won’t wash him out. Stepping back half a step and deeming the contour complete, he picks up a blush to continue the process.

Nice observes him with half-lidded eyes, “You’ve done this before.”

“Mmph,” he nods, carefully applying the blush. “A coworker of mine got really sick and begged me to fill in for them as the makeup artist for some small commercial. Feeling bad, I agreed.” A grimace tugged on his face as he further recalled the memory. “My boss got on my ass about it, though. Assigned me so much work after because ‘-If you have the time to play around with dress-up, you have the time to finish these by Monday!’ God, I had to pull so many all-nighters to finish those.” During his semi-rant, he didn’t notice how Nice’s eyes narrowed into slits, his hands clenching into fists.

“Why didn’t you quit?” 

Lin Ling freezes for half a step, his hand reaching for the gloss. He laughs, “Well, because I liked the job.” He starts, turning around with the gloss in his hands. Bending in closer, he uncaps the lid. “Sure, it wasn’t my dream to work there, and my boss was an absolute grade A asshole, but,” Tilting Nice’s chin up, he began to apply the lip gloss, the stick sliding across Nice’s lips, leaving them shiny and plump. “I always wanted to help, and what’s better than to help out heroes from behind the scenes?”

(He doesn’t mention the fact that his actual want was to be a hero, to punch bad guys and save innocents. He doesn’t mention the fact that when he was a child, he would look up at heroes like Nice and want.) Dammit, a bit of the gloss got onto his skin. Swiping it off with his thumb, he steps back to admire his work and—

Nice’s face was red. Pure tomato red.

Shit “Did I hurt you?" Fuck, fuck, fuck "I am so sorry! What do I do!? Are you allergic to something!? Hold on, let me go find a doctor!” Turning around, he was about to sprint before a hand shot out to stop him.

“...No, I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me.” Turning back around, Nice’s once tomato-red face has calmed to a dusty pink. “Still, shouldn’t you get checked out? I'm sure I can find a doctor before the show starts.” Lin Ling argued. Nice’s mouth opened to retort when-

Miss Juan bursts into the room, tablet in hand. 

“What’s taking so long!?” She demands, “We’re airing in 5! Get your asses on set!” 

.

.

.

Oh, Lin Ling,

Does he know how much he is affecting him?

How must know. He must know how much he drives Nice mad. 

His heart is still beating uncontrollably in his chest, the touches left by Lin Ling burn on his skin, and the way his face was just a breath away, his cute eyes focusing on him and only him. Oh, how it took all his patience not to pounce on the boy and take him right then and there.

The anger—the absolute fury he felt when Lin Ling began talking about the despicable man who was once his boss took him by surprise. A day ago, he could barely muster the energy to get out of bed, but now? His vision was filled with red and how he wanted to hurt. Hurt all who dared to lay a finger on Lin Ling. Lin Ling’s boss is a dead man on borrowed time because the minute he gets his hands on him—

Perhaps he’ll present his head as a gift to Lin Ling, showing him how deep his devotion goes. Show him that whatever he wants, Nice will provide.

Oh, Lin Ling, you truly are my heart.

Now, if only filming could end right so he can take Lin Ling back home. But alas, he must suffer sitting next to Moon as this new host, what’s-his-name, goes wildly off script, rambling about one thing or another. Really, the only thing stopping him from killing the guy was Lin Ling.

Lin Ling, who is standing behind the host. Far away from him so the camera can’t see, but close enough that Nice can see all the intricate details on his pretty little face. Nice smiles.  

Ah, what a good day. 

[scarletssienna]

I Was Heavenstruck

Summary - Wanda takes a liking for a young coffee shop worker. The only issue is, Wanda’s married. word count: 4.7k

Warnings - cheating, mommy wanda, age gap relationship, oral, begging, fighting, obsessed wanda, dom!sub undertones, angst

AN - milf wanda milf wanda milf wanda - I suppose I should post this rather than hiding all my writings in my drafts. Literally have like 3 currently held hostage begging to be let out. Part 2 here

18+ minors/men dni

Coffee shops have always been one of your favorite places. Luckily for you, your little college town had the cutest one. You’d applied nearly the second you’d gotten settled. Now you were happily on your third year of working there. You loved the busy work. It kept your mind occupied and distracted as you could focus on the coffee and making the customers happy. Recently, you found yourself getting slightly distracted at work. There was a woman who came in every morning at the same time. She would order the same cappuccino and chocolate croissant and sit at one of the corner tables while she caught up on emails. Lately, she had begun to get a little chatty. She would stop at the pickup spot, leaning over the counter as she would laugh and ask you about your day. The amount of darlings and sweethearts she used in each sentence never failed to make you blush. While she was older something pulled you towards her. You didn’t notice a ring on her finger. You found yourself quickly falling for her. Now, after two months of the same back and forth you needed more. Your hand shook as you wrote on a napkin your phone number. You placed it on the little dish visible next to the mug. You passed the dish over to her with a slightly shaky hand and a dark blush on your face. Her eyes glistened and riddled with confusion at your nervousness. She hadn’t seen your little note yet.

“Sweetheart, are you feeling okay? Maybe you should take a break. Come sit with me?” She offered as she set the dish down and reached to your arm. You shook your head politely declining. As much as you would love to sit with her, you couldn’t just leave what you were doing. There were other orders needed. She nodded and looked down at her mug as she went to pick it back up. It was her turn to blush as she noticed the note. She hummed a little ‘oh’ of contentment and understanding before hurrying to her typical table.

She was sitting there grinning to herself as she sipped her coffee. She pulled out her phone and you did your best not to stare as you tried to keep occupied. When you felt a buzz from your phone you glanced up at Wanda and your face quickly turned red as you locked eyes. Quickly, you looked away and pulled out your phone to see the notification. It’s from a new number with a simple text. “Hey <3”

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

After three days of spending much longer than you would care to admit texting you finally worked up the courage to ask her out. From there you’d decided on sandwiches and a walk in the park after your shift on Friday. Nervous as ever you’d woken up much earlier than anticipated but spent the entire morning anxiously getting ready for work. You did your hair in a half-up half-down look with two pieces in the front. You then did a simple makeup look. You got dressed before heading to work. Watching the time like a hawk, just on cue Wanda came in. She walked to the counter and ordered her usual drink but disregarded the croissant.

Your smile when you saw her had been apparent. She seemed almost as nervous as you as she made simple small talk as you made her coffee. When you passed it to her she smiled and winked before heading to her table. By the time she’d come in you’d have half an hour left of your shift. She waited patiently as she read a book, glancing up at you every once in a while. When you finished your shift she seemed to be lost in her book. You disappeared into the bathroom to put on a bit more of a casual appearance, changing your shirt and stuffing your old one into your purse. Looking into the mirror you took a few deep breaths to gain confidence before walking towards Wanda. She hadn’t even noticed you approaching her until you carefully settled your fingers on her book, pressing it into her lap softly.

“Ready?” You smiled down at her before pulling your bottom lip into your mouth with a nervous giggle. She nodded excitedly and shut her book, putting it into her bag before standing up.

“Ready.” She hummed and looked down at you now. She stood just a few inches taller than you which always made you blush. Her hand reached down and held yours confidently as if they were meant to be that way. She then softly tugged you out of the cafe and outside. Once outside she smiled down at you. “Where to?” You smiled and led her to your favorite sandwich shop. The conversation flowed easily as she confidently led you around. Anytime you would move too slowly a soft squeeze would be applied to your hand as a reminder, causing you to hurry next to her side again. The two of you walked closely, arms brushing every once in a while. The touch barrier is typically broken after several dates have been broken almost instantly with Wanda’s constant desire to be close to you. You didn’t mind it though. Her closeness and gentle grazes and touches made you feel comfortable as you moved down the busy streets. Eventually, you made your way to the park. She led you to a blanket with a small picnic basket and a bouquet on top. How she had set this up without you knowing and had nothing happen to it surprised you. You grinned excitedly as she handed you the fresh pink tulips. You practically squeezed with excitement and wrapped your arms around her engulfing her in a hug. She pressed a gentle kiss to your temple as you spoke. The action causes you to stutter slightly.

“I’ve never been given flowers before.” You muttered softly and she smiled at you before wrinkling her eyebrows in confusion.

“A pretty girl like you deserves flowers. What a shame. I’ll just have to fulfill that desire for you now.” She said with a little wink as she sat down. She motioned next to her for you to sit and you obliged, setting the flowers next to you. “Any other desires you need to be fulfilled, pretty girl?” She asked with a small smirk on her face. You blushed a bright shade and quickly looked away from her gaze. Flustered, you reached for the sandwiches and passed her hers. She grabbed the picnic basket and opened it. Inside she pulled out some fresh strawberries she had sliced up, a small container of veggies and hummus, and a bottle of wine with two glasses. You giggled when you saw the wine and bit your bottom lip slightly.

“Wanda is like barely noon.” You teased her for her drink of choice. You’d just barely turned 21 and despite how many college kids behaved you rarely drank underage. It had all been very new to you. She just chuckled and poured two small glasses, passing one towards you. You two fell into a simple conversation as you ate happily. Eventually, somehow you ended up lying, looking up at the clouds with your head in Wanda’s lap. Her fingers tangled delicately through your hair as she relaxed in the closeness. From an outside perspective, you two were moving quite quickly. But in reality, this was months of pining and small talk. Finally, you two were able to be close and together. When Wanda’s phone rang for the third time in a row neither of you could ignore it anymore. You reached over and grabbed it for her, passing it to her. You tried not to be nosy and avoided looking at the screen to see who was calling. She declined the call and set the phone to the side. You thought for a second before looking up at her, deciding to ask.

“Who’s in such a need for your attention?” You asked as you took her hand that wasn’t tangled in your hair into your own hands. Softly you played with her fingers, directing your attention to the clouds.

“Other than you? Nobody that deserves it.” She stated simply as she smiled down at you. You smiled at the answer before sitting up and flipping around to face her. You kicked your legs over hers carefully draping them over her lap. Her hands rested on your legs with a smile.

“Hmm.” You thought out loud as you leaned in a little bit. “I want you to tell me something.” You stated as you reached up to her hands with one of yours.

“Mmhm.” She hummed in response, causing you to continue.

“I want you to tell me a secret. Something no one else knows.” You said as a matter of fact. She chuckled at you and raised one of her eyebrows.

“No one else, huh.” She questioned as she leaned in a tiny bit. You nodded in response as you awaited her answer. “I want to kiss you right now.” She replied in a little whisper as she glanced down at your lips. You wasted no time as you quickly closed the gap between you. She immediately kissed back as one of her hands moved to your waist and the other settled on the back of your head. It was gentle and sweet. Delicate almost. She didn’t want to spook you too much. You weren’t exactly satisfied with her softness. When she pulled away you glanced back and forth between her lips and her eyes.

“Wanna know my secret?” You asked, desperation heard through your voice. She just nodded as the scene unfolded in front of her. Carefully you made your way to straddling her lap. Her breath hitched in her throat as it was finally your turn to fluster her. “I want you to kiss me, kiss me, Wanda.” You stated as your finger pressed into the center of her chest softly. She leaned in to kiss you again. This time it was real. It was passionate and deep and everything you could ask for. Her hands grabbed at your hips as she pulled you closer, your body’s flush. Her tongue swooped against your bottom lip, eagerly seeking entrance. You obliged happily as your hips ground softly against her. When you two eventually pulled away you became suddenly very aware of your public presence. You blushed red as you glanced around before hiding your face in the crook of her neck. She held you close as her hand found a slow pattern tracing up and down your back.

The next few days were electric. Then weeks passed and you continued strong. You’d hit the three month mark of your first date last Friday and you just felt more encapsulated with Wanda's aura than ever before. Sometimes after your shift ends you two would walk around the shops that line the street. Other times it was late and you just needed a break from the textbooks. You would end up tangled up in the backseat of her car like a high school couple hiding from the world. Your favorites have been when she shows up for her usual at work. Several minutes after she’s served, you take a ‘break’ and disappear off into the bathroom for hidden kisses. Never once have you gone all the way though. And never once has the conversation of going to either of your houses come up: Until today.

When Wanda came in for her usual you saw her and a big smile grew across your face at the sight of her. It quickly faded as you noticed her discomfort. You frowned in confusion as you saw the man surprisingly close to her. His hand rested on her back as they quietly discussed their orders. Wanda looked quite uncomfortable but you didn’t notice as you were trying to figure out who the man with her was. You knew you recognized him but weren’t sure where from. When he came to order you immediately realized.

“We’ll take a cappuccino and,” he started but you quickly cut him off.

“Vision?” You asked confused before gasping. “Vision. No way.” You exclaimed. Wanda’s confusion was evident as you two shared shocked expressions and surprised laughter.

“Wow! Oh my gosh! What are you doing here? Wow. Wanda!” He exclaimed as he looked down at her. “Our families were quite close when we were young! They still are but after college started I kinda disappeared into my own world.” He said as he shook his head. “We practically grew up together. Well, she is several years younger than me but you know.” He teased slightly before looking back at you. “This is my wife, Wanda.” He smiled. The words hit you heavily and suddenly you noticed all of Wanda’s discomfort. She was married. Your smile faded and you heard the blood rushing in your ears. You covered it well as he happily carried on.

“Yeah, uh, we’ve met sorta.” You said with a squinted look. “She’s quite the regular here.” You said with a faint laugh.

“We have to catch up soon.” He said suddenly and you just nodded sheepishly. “Friday. We’re having a little party. It’d be great to have you. Bring a plus one if you’d like? Boyfriend? Friend? Whatever.” You just nodded in agreement before smiling lightly. You scribbled down your phone number before sliding it to him and mumbling about getting their orders. They ordered it to go before leaving. The look on Wanda’s face stuck with you. How could she not have mentioned she was married? What was she doing with you?

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Friday came quicker than you’d expected. Throughout the rest of the week, you’d avoided Wanda: Her calls, her desperate texts, even your typical work hours. What you couldn’t stay away from was Friday. But you had a plan. Natasha. Your best friend. You’d asked her for a favor and she was quick to agree. Vision had approved you bringing a guest so there you did. You had a bottle of wine in your hand. You both were dressed quite nicely. Natasha in a tight red dress that complimented her hair nicely and accentuated her chest and ass. You were wearing clothes nicer than you’d put on in forever. A tight black dress that hugged your hips just perfectly and left your chest quite out and exposed. Despite your pleas of denial Natasha had encouraged you to wear heals and boy did they do wonders for your legs. You knocked on the door and waited nervously. Wanda opened it with a desperate but nervous smile. It faded when she noticed you had a plus one. She was wearing a white jumpsuit, a little more conservative than you two but it had you blushing anyways. You exchanged awkward highs and smiles. She let you in with a fake smile as she attempted to seem normal.

“This is Natasha. My girlfriend.” You smiled fakely as you watched them introduce themselves.

“Your girlfriend! Wow yes. So nice to meet you.” Wanda bore fakely through gritted teeth. She knew you didn’t have a girlfriend. Vision didn’t. And you planned on making the whole scene very convincing. You two entered and Vision made his appearance. You and Natasha were quickly pulled off into a conversation, weaving your way throughout the crowded house. You both found drinks and made attempts at casual conversation with people. Natasha made the practice of being extremely touchy. She would lean down and whisper in your ear which caused shivers down your spine. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you blush. Wanda watched the two of you interact from her place as she sipped her drink quietly. The quick kisses you and Natasha would share and her quite apparent hand on your ass caused Wanda to squirm from across the room. Your drinks were set down as you two moved off to the side of the crowd. Her hands roamed across your body as if there was no one else in the room. She leaned down and whispered in your ear causing you to blush deeply.

“Who knew this would all come so naturally.” She paused, her hands settling on your hips as she pulled your body’s flush. “I want more.” She whispered before leaning down to kiss you deeply. Thus began a heavy make-out. Her tongue made a quick fashion of taking control of the kiss. You moaned as you opened your mouth further. Your hand tangled softly in her hair as she squeezed at your ass. You grumbled a little when she eventually pulled away. She wasn’t done yet. She leaned down once more to whisper in your ear. “Forget Wanda. I could treat you so right baby. Let’s just get out of here.” Your eyes flickered over to where Wanda was standing as you made accidental eye contact. She was schaithing as she faked enjoyment with the people surrounding her. Her eyes rarely left you. You couldn’t even tell if this was all an act anymore or not. You didn’t even have a chance to consider the proposition Natasha had put up when Wanda practically stormed over. She seemed to have taken your eye contact as a signal to come over. A giant smile plastered on her face when she reached out and touched your arm.

“Honey, can we step over here for a second? I’d love to just have a word with you?” She asked as her arm slid down to your hand, gripping it tightly. She didn’t wait for a response as she began pulling you off down a hallway and away from everyone. You glanced back at Natasha and all she did was wink. The house was bigger than you’d expected it to be. She looked around making sure no one was paying attention before pulling you up the stairs. She tugged you into the nearest room and you clumsily fell into her embrace. She shut the door, catching you carefully before pushing you up against the wall. “What the hell is all this?” She started, as if she was allowed to be the person upset here. Your eyes avoided her as you looked around the room, noticing a bed and dresser you were suddenly fearful she had brought you into her bedroom. The one she shared with her husband. “Oh don’t get your panties all tied in a knot, this is the guest room.” She said coldly as she shook her head. You pulled against her grip causing her to just tighten it. You looked up into her eyes as you struggled with what to even say. Her cold demeanor dropped suddenly as she sighed. Her hands fell to her sides and her eyes looked into yours, now glossy.

“When were you planning on telling me you were married?” You started, cautiously. “That you have this whole extravagant life. And you just sneak around with me.” You groaned. “Because you’re married!” You practically yelled causing Wanda to quickly snap her hand up and cover your mouth.

“Shh.” She hushed you softly. You shook your head, shaking her hand off of your face as you swatted at her.

“Don’t shush me.” You growled as you frowned. She sighed and took a step back, giving you a little bit of space. Your arms fell to your sides in defeat as you finally showed how you really felt. The pit in your stomach grew as you spoke quietly. “I just thought it was real.” You looked away from her and shook your head as tears filled your eyes. “Was any of it even real?” You asked, not even sure if you’d want to know the answer. She stepped back towards you again and cupped your face softly.

“Sweetheart, it was real. It was all real.” She said, her voice cracking as she spoke. “It was more real than anything I’ve felt in so,” she sighed. “So long.” You finally looked back into her eyes. They were glossy as tears threatened to fall. “I got in too deep.” She whispered. “I fucked up Detka. It was never supposed to go as far as it did.” She now looked away from you, feeling guilty. “You were just supposed to be my little distraction in the morning. My beaming ray of sunshine I would get to enjoy with my coffee. I fell for you though. I hoped the date would be terrible and would push us apart and I would lose interest.” She looked back at you. You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth and frowned. “I didn’t. In fact, I grew to really quite adore you.” She smiled a tiny bit. It was a sad, guilty smile that faded when she saw your frown. Her thumb wiped your tears away and she kissed your cheek repeatedly.

“You used me Wanda. You used me as a distraction from your sad, boring life, and unhappy marriage.” Your words were cold and mean. They took her by surprise but she knew it all already. She frowned and sighed.

“Please sweetheart. You have to forgive me.” She pleaded, her hands sliding down your face and down your arms to your hands. The tears that had been threatening to escape finally fell. She gripped your hands tightly in hers as she began to beg. “Please.” She leaned forward again and began to kiss at your face and neck. Between each kiss a beg or plead would follow. Her hands moved to your hips and back to your ass. Her hands stilled as she leaned to whisper in your ear. “It can be our little secret Detka. No one has to know.” She nipped at your earlobe slightly, causing you to groan. You felt sick sneaking around like this. Though there was something that drew you to the situation so strongly. It pulled and urged you against all of your better judgment. You broke, nodding weakly. She saw you nod and gasped relieved as she kissed you deeply, passionately. It was a kind of desperation you had never felt from her before. The feeling suffocated you. Her utter obsession with you fueled a fire in you you hadn’t ever even dreamt of. She dropped to her knees, looking up to you with desperate eyes.

“Let me thank you.” She murmured, her hands sliding up your thighs underneath your dress. You groaned at her touches and nodded again as your hand went to her hair. It gently tangled in her curls as she left wet kisses up your thighs. You separated your legs a little as you leaned up against the wall. She pulled your panties down your thighs and faked a gasp at the wet spot on them. “I’ve barely even touched you sweetheart.” She teased and stuffed your panties into her pocket, not planning on giving them back. You whined softly as you pulled her head closer to where you needed it. She immediately gave you the attention you deserved. She lifted your leg over her shoulder for easier access. Her head was immediately buried in your cunt as she licked moved as if she was starved. Her tongue moved skillfully through your folds and around your clit. You had to hold back gasps and moans as you fell back against the wall harder. A hand covered your mouth to stifle the moanes she created as she hungrily ate between your thighs. Your hand held tighter in her hair as you pulled her closely, directing her to what you liked. You could feel her smiling below you, this caused you to blush a dark color as you closed your eyes tightly. The embarrassment washed away as you only felt pleasure. Her tongue brought you to a quick orgasm. You bit down on your hand softly to muffle the moans she was so easily eliciting from your body. As you came down from the high you nearly fell over. She was quick to catch you as she held you up carefully. Your eyes were still closed as you leaned your head against the door, catching your breath tiredly. She wiped her face a little as she chuckled at your exhaustion. She leaned forward kissing you deeply. You kissed back with desire. You moaned as you tasted yourself on her. You whined into the kiss as it turned sloppy. She pulled you into her arms, holding you closely as you snuggled into her embrace, leaning your entire body weight on her.

“Come here darling.” She whispered soothingly as she held you. “Mommy’s got you.” She whispered instinctively. The nickname she used on herself caught you a little off guard at first. But you smiled and blushed at the comfort and fuzzy feelings you were feeling. She lifted you carefully and walked you to the bed before gently setting you down. You laid back on the bed and reached for her to lay with you. She stayed standing though and tried to part from your body. When she tried to let go of you your eyes snapped open and you whined.

“No mommy.” You complained and grabbed her clothes. She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, soothing your worries.

“I’m just going to grab some things to clean you up sweetheart I’ll be right back.” She whispered, causing you to reluctantly let go of her. She disappeared into the bathroom and was gone far too long as she collected some things. She returned only a moment later and sat down next to you. You squirmed up against her and she made gentle work of cleaning you up. Her hands gripped at your thighs causing you to instinctively open them for her, whining at the touch. She gently wiped you up before setting the wash cloth aside and carefully taking off your makeup. Your eyes stayed closed as you drifted off into a relaxed, sleepy state. When she finished she peppered soft kisses across your face before stopping at your lips. Her tongue was immediately seeking entrance again, causing you to moan and press your legs together once again. She pulled away when she noticed your reaction, tisking you no softly.

“Mommy’s sorry honey, no more tonight.” She hummed and soothed your cheek. You nodded and looked up at her with big eyes.

“The party.” You looked up with concern. She shook her head a little with a sweet smile.

“I have it handled. I’ll be right back okay?” She assured you as she waited to leave your embrace until you approved. You nodded and she stood up. She went to the mirror and fixed up her appearance. You turned your body so you could watch her, a small smile on your face. She smiled back at you before leaving the room and going downstairs. She explained to Vision that you were quite ill and would have to stay the night. When he offered to come up and help she politely declined, explaining how he needed to stay to finish up the party. He agreed and Wanda returned upstairs. She stopped in her room first and grabbed some pajamas before returning to the guest room, locking the door behind her. You reached for her impatiently, whines leaving your lips.

“Come here.” You murmured, clinging onto her jumpsuit when she was within reach. She stood next to the bed while you nuzzled your face up against her thigh. She took your phone from you one hair playing softly though your hair.

“What’s your password honey?” She asked, causing you to mumble it out. She typed it in before finding Natasha’s contact. She sent her a text saying she could leave and you would be alright for the night. You didn’t even question what Wanda was doing on your phone, all you cared about was being close to the older woman. She then set to work getting you out of your dress and into some comfortable clothes. All of her touches felt like fire on your body. You squirmed beneath her as her fingers grazed up your thighs. She then stepped back and changed out of her clothes. You watched in awe, biting your bottom lip as she stripped in front of you. Her confidence radiated as she didn’t even hesitate changing with your watchful eyes. When she finished she climbed in bed behind you. You scooted back against her body as she pulled you flush against her. You relaxed in her embrace, falling asleep quickly. All of your comfort would be taken away though in just a few short hours when she had to return to bed with her husband.

[shadowsandsunset]

Ok, ok, I know this is pedantic, but in Stranger Things fanfictions when Eddie is selling weed and they give absolutely outlandish prices, not just for the 80s but for today too, it makes me laugh and disengage with the narrative.

Below the cut is some information that will help you write about Eddie selling weed. I've been around stoner culture for over 20 years at this point so feel free to ask questions.

Eddie is NOT charging $25 for a joint in 1986. Eddie would not be charging more than a few dollars at most for a joint in 1986 since you could get an ounce for $100 or less back then. An ounce makes about 56 joints of about half gram size. Now blunts, on the other hand, would be a little more expensive as they contain more weed, and you could get about 28 blunts of about a gram each. There are 28.35g in an ounce but most stoners just say 28g to an ounce.

So, he'd charge $2-3 a joint, and $4-5 a blunt, depending on his own markup.

A joint is rolled in white rolling papers, kinda like the thin sheets of a bible or like those oil blotting papers for makeup. Job or Raw are popular brand options.

A blunt is rolled in brown cigarillo paper, sometimes mixed with tobacco but not always. Think Swisher Sweets or Dutch Masters or Zigzag...you can Google those if you need.

Weed, by itself, is usually sold by quarter or half or full ounces but can also be sold by the gram. Usually, it costs just a bit more to buy by the gram because it's more work for the dealer. So, Eddie would have to be somewhat good at math and doing math on the fly. He'd also have a scale to measure it out with.

Weed is sold in a variety of containers, but the most common is cheap sandwich baggies. The 100 for $1 ones. Usually twisted and tied with a knot. You can also find dealers who use shopping bags, jars, paper towels and more depending on what they have on hand. From what we see in the show, Eddie uses cheap sandwich bags.

Eddie also wouldn't be selling high quality weed. He's probably selling "mid" or mid-grade weed. He might on occasion sell dirt/ditch weed, which is lower quality usually with seeds and stems instead of just bud/flower. He would probably not have access to loud/high tier weed. However, Argyle would, being from California, which was at the time, and remains, a stoner's paradise.

Ok, I'm going to end this here but if you have any questions please ask! Accurate fanfiction scratches my ND brain.

[incognitopolls]

Scenario: you are doing two things (or doing something that has two parts) that you enjoy. How you choose to approach these activities will affect how much you'll enjoy each of them.

Option 1: Activity A gives you 100% enjoyment. The time or attention required brings activity B down to 60% enjoyment.

Option 2: Both activities give you 80% enjoyment.

Example: You have a delicious hot sandwich that's cut in half. The left half is beautifully neat; the right half is very messy.

Option 1: If you eat the NEAT side first, it'll be nice and hot, and you won't make a mess eating it: 100% enjoyment. The messy side will be cold by the time you get to it, and you'll make a mess, so you'll only enjoy it 60%.

Option 2: If you eat the MESSY side first, it'll be nice and hot, but it'll make a mess. 80% enjoyment. The neat side will be cold by the time you get to it, but it won't make a mess, so you'll also enjoy that side 80%.

–

We ask your questions anonymously so you don’t have to! Submissions are open on the 1st and 15th of the month.

[jazzfromthevoid]

Me and my friend made a horrid creation called a fear sandwich, each ingredient is based of a tma fear.

1. The end: the bread, specifically the butt end of the bread that had been slightly burnt by the manufacturer.

2. The fleash: some kind of mystery meat. A horrid combination of a bunch of different meats.

3. The slaughter: a nother meat, but it has metal shavings in it.

4. The hunt: a mixed greens but it's poison ivy and grass. (With a bit of blood on it)

5. The desolation: a REALLY hot sauce, like inhumanely spicy.

6. The buried: an entire truffle. Dirt and all.

7. The dark: just squid ink. Way more than is necessary.

8. The lonely: a single very sweet pickle that does not go well with the rest of the sandwich.

9. The vast: a thousand island dressing that is actually just salt water. It's also really cold.

10. The corruption: very moldy cheese, it's just all mold, with maggots in the senter, as a suprise.

11. The eye: one of those toothpicks that goes through the sandwich holding it together. It also has a little olive with the capsicum in the middle of it on top. (The olive is uncomfortably moist)

12. The spiral: a very strangely cut onion that doesn't even really taste like onion, but you can't tell exactly what it tastes like, so you just sit there in mild confusion and terror of what you just ate.

13. The stranger: a sausage that you think is normal meat but is actually a vegan sausage.

14. The extinction: a very rare very endangered animal filled with micro plastics.

15. The web: what looks to be sesame seeds on the bread, but are actually very small spider eggs. (It's a delicacy in some places, it would be rude not to have it)

A million notes and I will attempt to make it. (Please don't I don't want to make this. I don't even know where to get half of these ingredients)

[lvmimis]

cw: set after dressrosa. reader has a vaguely described devil fruit power. selfship-coded.

“I’m not gonna lie, this freaks me out a bit,” you whisper to Robin and she giggles as you watch Bartolomeo, the only person you think might love Luffy more than you do, continues to show off the rest of his boat to the crew.

As if the eerily well done bow of the ship bearing the likeness of your boyfriend wasn’t disturbing enough, the fact that you are now looking at your own framed bounty, nicely rounded at 50 million Berries, is even more disconcerting. Prior to this, you’d escaped being noted by the Marines, and now you were staring at a picture of yourself - a far away shot of you dragging along the little girl you’d helped escape at Dressrosa. You’d think they’d aim to use a picture of you looking less sympathetic, but slap enough money on the bottom of the poster, and you’re as good as dead.

All of your hopeful attempts to not become noteworthy down the drain. While you watch Usopp panic, you wonder if you should start to panic too, but as you watch Luffy practically beam at the idea of his bounty going up, you try to realign your mindset to match his.

Your mentor at home back at your island is probably shaking his head, but at least you’re still alive and have helped do some good.

—

Robin is still asleep when you wake up in the middle of the night, even if you remember her head in a book as you dozed off next to her in a small portion of the ship carved out for the female passengers. As you come to, you feel the heaviness of a full bladder, and frown remembering that you’re not sure where the bathrooms are on this ship full of men. Remembering that it’s unlikely you’ll end up in an unsavory situation on this ship also carrying your treasured and extremely protective friends, you shift carefully with hopes not to wake up Robin and try to find your way through the vessel at night. 

Drawn to each other intuitively like moths to a flame, it’s not long until you practically bump into Luffy as you turn the corner. He’s surprised, but quickly wraps you in a hug before you hiss at him to let you go, keeping your voice low.

“What the hell are you doing up?”

His stomach growls in response and you shake your head before he can even speak.

“Hungry…” he moans.

You twist your mouth to the side, but you can sympathize with the call of nature, whichever one it may be. You squeeze his hand, a motion that’s become all too natural these days.

“Let me find a bathroom first and then we can try to figure out where the fridge is. I’ll make you something.” You offer, despite knowing he’d eat practically anything, even raw.

…

One pee break later, you’re seated in the ship’s kitchen, trying your best to coax Luffy into waiting for you to make him a quadruple decker sandwich with the leftovers from the feast earlier today, rather than leave him to his own devices and risk tearing up the Barto Club’s reserves for the next three months. Luffy is being surprisingly patient, but you’ve realized by now he tries a little harder to be considerate when it comes to you and as you slide the sandwich across the table and settle down with a glass of water, he looks at you quizzically.

“Not hungry?”

He’s already eaten half the sandwich in one bite.

“Nope. It’s 2am, Luffy."

“So?”

You should expect this answer from him.

“Is it good?” You ask. Luffy nods, then swallows the remainder in another record bite.

Before you can say anything else, he lets out a loud burp and pats his stomach.

“That definitely hit the spot! Sucks you didn’t have much of an appetite though.”

He frowns, and you consider reminding him that it’s 2 fucking am, but there’s no use. Instead, you smile, appreciating his good humor, and decide to take this rare opportunity alone together since you first set foot on Dressrosa to speak to him seriously.

“Thank you Luffy.”

He looks at you for a moment - really looks - as though he’s trying to parse out the meaning behind your simple words of gratitude, then smiles.

“Don’t mention it,” he says, casually. Dressrosa, despite being relatively recent, is already in the past in his mind, as he focuses on the future still on the horizon for him, but he can tell quickly that you’re still processing, as you rise. He can see the longing in your eyes, anxious attachment tugging your body towards him.

Perhaps you didn’t get up because you needed to pee, but because you needed to see him.

Luffy’s arms envelop you naturally as you slip into his lap. It’s been a while since he’s held you like this, and there’s a cathartic sigh that arises from you that seems to be unearthed from the very pit of your stomach. Your forehead presses against his chest, and you hug his waist tight as you straddle him. A few moments pass as your heart begins to thump in your chest, revved up by every feeling you’ve kept suppressed up to now.

“I was so scared,” you finally admit.

Luffy’s chin rests on your shoulder, and he kisses the side of your face gently, before humming in assent. Luffy doesn’t feel fear like you, but he does understand you deeply; he notes the slight twist of his shirt in your clenched fingertips, the slight tremble in your body. You’re not crying yet, and you probably won’t actually let a tear ruin his clothes, but all the emotion you’ve held in leaks through the very pores of your body into his.

“I thought we would all die. I knew we wouldn’t, I believed in you, but what if-”

And then you’re back there again -

A man with a broken leg, sitting in despair. Another man, trapped by rubble; three people help you uncover with the help of the hospital staff. A child who is too tired to run. 

All bodies that rattle in your head, contained in capsules, as you attempt to carry them to safety.

King Riku’s speech rings overhead.

You just have to survive for a few more minutes.

Even though your head is starting to wear heavy with the bodies of people who need just a little bit of time, you’re surrounded by others who stomp the streets, their hearts yearning for freedom, stalling with you for just a little bit of time, and you look towards the sky where Luffy does just that.

Fight with every bit of life in him to give you all just a bit more precious time.

Just as the others have trusted you, you trust him with your life and theirs.

Luffy’s hand rubs carefully along the length of your back.

“I’m here safe, and so are you,” he whispers.

“I’m thankful, of course… but I’m scared. What if next time…” your voice trails off. Luffy doesn’t need a coward as a crewmate, nor does he need a partner that only knows how to make a sandwich and shake like a leaf.

“I’m sorry, I’ll shut up now. I wasn’t the one up there fighting Doflamingo.”

Luffy says nothing else, and there’s a small comfort in that for a moment, that he neither pacifies your emotions nor berates them. Instead, he continues to rub your back carefully as he thinks.

What do you tell someone you love who’s crumbling under pressure?

“It’s just that sometimes I feel like I’m not cut out for all this.”

Luffy freezes for a moment; you feel his body hardening like stone, the held breath in his chest likening his form to a marble statue. Almost immediately, you find yourself apologetic, but there is nothing for you to apologize for.

Pulling back so that you can look at his face again, you find that he looks crestfallen.

“Luffy, I-”

“I’ll get stronger,” he says, quickly. “I’ll be able to protect you and I won’t lose any fights, ___. Just don’t-”

He doesn’t say the word ‘leave.’ He knows you have the right to leave at any time, he promised you it when the idea of joining first floated between you two. So rather than influence you, he waits to see a flicker of regret or hesitation in your eyes, if you have truly been thinking of deserting him - he knows that it’s within your right to, after all, your dreams can still be achieved without him in some way, you are tagging along out of love more than mutual benefit.

And you have no doubt that he’ll become King of the pirates some day. The question is if you’ll be able to see him through.

You take his hand and squeeze it tightly. “You’re strong enough already,” you offer him this meager reassurance.

“Not if you’re still this worried,” he’s quick to reply. You sink into his hold again, pressing your head against his chest.

“I’ll worry about you forever, even if you become some sort of invulnerable god.”

“You’re not truly free if you don’t feel safe. I want you to feel safe with me, all the time. I don’t want you to worry.”

His earnestness is impossible sometimes, but you can feel your body warm with his fondness and determination.

Your hands settle along the sides of his handsome face. One of the strongest men in the world and one of the sweetest. Adored so much that this borrowed safe passage is filled with his fans.

And he loves you somehow, and terribly so. 

You can try a little harder for him, can’t you?

“I trust you, Luffy.”

His hands carefully rest over yours. He nods and there’s a solemnity to the motion.

However, even if now a bounty rests on your head and the impending risk of death draws nearer and nearer, you trust him and you realize there’s no real reason to be afraid.

[crescenthistory]

heeeyyyy I love your series with Barty! Can I request for a one shot where they weren’t dating already but the Yule Ball or some Ball is coming up and Barty asks reader to go with him and surprisingly they say yes? Love your work!

hey love! thank you for your kind works<3 i couldn't make the ball work with the timeline and everything, but i've written a hogsmeade dancing floor equivalent lmao

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader (she/her pronouns), no use of y/n, some suggestive flirting, bickering, featuring jegulus and most marauders era characters, dancing, pretending to hate each other

Note: this is set in the grumpy!reader/bickering series before reader and barty get together, so after part 1 and before part 2 and part 3 <3 not sure how i feel about this one

The Three Broomsticks was alive with music, chatter, and a constant hum of laughter. Tonight, every chair, booth and barstool was taken, every inch of the pub was packed with students, all celebrating the Hogsmeade weekend. The air was filled with a kind of rowdiness that had you wedged between Lily and Sirius, sandwiched in a booth that was definitely not meant for seven people.

Across the booth from you, James had his head turned not-so-subtly to the side, practically bending his whole body to get a better look at Regulus, where he was sitting at a table a few metres to your right. The Slytherin boy was not any better, giving James a shy wave that Barty promptly slapped away, with some offhand comment you couldn't hear.

Sirius, stretched out with his arms over the backs of the seats, ever making himself comfortable, looked displeased as he took in the sight. "Can they be any more obvious?" he muttered.

"Let them be," you drawled, half-amused, half-mocking. "Who knows, maybe it'll soften your baby brother's rough edges."

"As if." Sirius smirked, but his eyes softened just a bit.

Your gaze shifted to where Regulus sat, surrounded by friends – Evan and Dorcas in some animated discussion while Pandora seemed to be petting the wall beside her. Opposite Regulus was Barty, hands still all up in Regulus' space. Insufferable.

Even in the dimly lit pub, even in the middle of talking to his best mate, Barty's eyes found yours with the ease of somebody who had been looking far too long. He didn't move his gaze either, instead tilted his head with a smirk. You rolled your eyes, going back to chatting mindlessly with your own group of friends.

James, upon catching Regulus’ eye for about the fifth time in the past couple of minutes, threw his boyfriend a wink that caused him to practically swoon into his drink, promptly turning the colour of a ripe tomato. That was about when you couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” you said, barely able to hold back a snort.

“I know,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “They are simply so disgusting.”

“I can hear you, you know,” James huffed, but didn’t look too defeated as he smiled at Regulus once more. If you knew this is what him finally making a move would come to, you might have not encouraged him.

Lily chuckled, reaching over to give James a nudge. “It’s not disgusting, Sirius, it’s sweet. Not that you’d know what sweet looked like if it hit you over the head with a Bludger.”

“Well,” Marlene added, giving James a sly smile, “it is a bit too much on a rather empty stomach.” She leaned her chin in her hands, staring James down. “But seriously, how long do you reckon you two will keep up the pining act from opposite ends of the pub? You're dating aren't ya, go talk and stop making it everyone's problem.”

James opened his mouth to respond, but he was cut off by a loud, cheerful voice from beside the table.

“Why not ask him yourself?”

There, grinning like he had just won the Quidditch World Cup, was Barty, hauling Regulus close behind him, having decided it was high time to join in on the fun.

"I'd rather not," mumbled Sirius.

"Fantastic news that I wasn't talking to you then, Black."

There was no room for more people to cram into your little booth, but James solved that problem by promptly pulling Regulus onto his lap, ignoring Sirius' pained noise. The two of them immediately launched into soft, excited chatter, blissfully unaware of any and all proceedings around them from then on.

Barty, on the other hand, was still standing, and his gaze swept around the group, eventually landing on you with that familiar, aggravating gleam in his eyes. In this position, you see his t-shirt had its hem cut off and was riding dangerously high over his hips.

“Evening, sweetheart,” he greeted with a lazy smirk, saying it with all the derision he could muster. “You look as miserable as always."

"Funny, I felt quite decent until you waltzed in," you shot back, barely looking at him.

"Was it because you were looking at me then instead?"

Lily furrowed her brows as she looked back and forth between Barty's flirty gaze and your tense expression. "Would that insinuate that you're decent to look at, but awful to speak to, Junior?"

"Yes," Sirius concluded before Barty could defend his case.

"I think decent to look at is a stretch," you mumbled into your butterbeer.

"Now we both know you don't mean that, baby." Barty winked at you, unaffected. "I'm happy to see you’re actually out tonight. Thought you’d be back in the library, plotting ways to charm your way through exams.”

“Only one of us has to charm our way through exams, Junior."

"Actually," Regulus for some reason beyond you, decides to chime in, reciting as if from memory. "He got 12 OWLs."

Barty just pointed at Regulus with a told you so look on his face.

Marlene let out a snicker at that. “Are you seriously fighting already? You've barely been here for five seconds." The last part was aimed at Barty, but the judgement in her gaze was for the both of you.

"You're acting like those old married couples who never shut up," Lily agreed.

“Oh, they wish,” Sirius chimed in, leaning in with a broad grin that dared you to disagree. “Unfortunately for Junior here, our dear friend hates him too much for that.”

Barty didn’t miss a beat. He leaned back, casually draping an arm across the back of the booth and raising an eyebrow at you. “You hate me that much, sweet thing? I hadn’t noticed.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no ignoring the way he was looking at you, with a glint of challenge and something that looked just a little like amusement. “Hating you isn’t something I’d exactly consider a challenge.”

“Oh, but I’m always up for a challenge, and I know you are too,” he said, smirk widening as he shifted closer. “Is that why you keep looking my way? To make sure I’m suffering from all that scorn?”

Your friends exchanged amused glances, most of them failing to hide their grins as they watched the exchange unfold. Even James and Regulus, paused to look your way.

"You are aware that me looking at your table does not equal looking at you, right? We were mocking Jamie here." You ignored James' soft hey at that.

“And," you added pointedly, crossing your arms in defence. "If I were to look at you it would only be to ensure you don’t do anything stupid, Junior. Though, I fear that’s a losing battle.”

Barty didn’t waver, even as your friends gave varying degrees of laughter, clearly relishing in his – and maybe your – misery.

“Please, darling. There’s only one losing battle here, and it’s you trying to resist me.” Barty’s voice dropped to a murmur, and his words sent a shiver up your spine despite yourself. You hoped no one could tell.

Sirius nudged Remus. “Taking bets. How many seconds ‘till she hexes him?”

Remus chuckled, holding up his fingers. “Ten, at best.”

You shot them both a glare, and Barty laughed, a low chuckle that drew your attention back to him. “Well,” he said, his voice just as taunting as ever, “think you’re up for one more challenge tonight?”

“Oh, Merlin,” you sighed, though your pulse sped up, aware of his hand still too close on the back of the booth. “What now?”

He leaned in, his gaze sliding briefly to the newly assembled dance floor in the middle of the Three Broomsticks, where more and more people were swaying to the groovy song that was playing. He didn’t look back at you right away, just enough to let you see his grin widen as he nodded in the direction of the music. “A dance. If you’ve even got it in you.”

There was a moment of stunned silence around the table, then loud, unabashed laughter. Lily was grinning, Marlene and James looked beyond entertained, and Sirius gave Barty a pitying shake of the head.

“There's no way you even tried that, mate,” he said, with a shrug of certainty. “She'll say no. You’d have better luck asking Nearly Headless Nick.”

“Oh, I’m counting on her saying no,” Barty replied, that trademark smirk still firmly in place. His eyes were locked on you now, a challenge shining in them that made your skin prickle.

Everyone was staring, eyes flickering between you both, waiting for you to deny him. Yet, spite bubbled in your stomach at that faux knowing look in his eyes, teasing you with some power you knew he didn't hold over you.

So: "It's on." You raised an eyebrow, matching his smirk. “I’ll dance with you.”

Barty’s grin faltered for just a split second, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly, and the surprise on his face was worth every second of this ridiculous charade.

It spurred you on.

Remus gave you an almost concerned look as you crawled over Lily to get out of the booth and face Barty, making sure to keep your chin up. Your fists were unconsciously curled by your sides and Regulus eyed them curiously.

“Knew you’d come around.”

“No, you didn’t.” You looked up through your lashes at that, and you swore you could see him gulp.

“Oh, well, this should be good,” Sirius muttered, looking around the table as if anyone else could see what he was. Marlene and Lily seemed to be the only ones who exchanged a knowing look, sizing the two of you up as you squared up against each other.

Barty didn’t waste any time. He took your hand, dragging you toward the dance floor with that signature air of self-assurance that was always just a little too smug. The moment you reached the floor, he turned to you, one hand sliding to your waist and pulling you in with far more familiarity than you believed he had any right to. It bothered you even more how natural it felt to you.

“Look at that,” he murmured as you started to sway in time with the music, his voice barely audible over the crowd. “Didn’t think you’d actually say yes.”

“I like keeping you on your toes,” you replied, rolling your eyes as you rested your hands on his shoulders, a bit closer than you had intended.

"Tell me," he drawled. "Do you really hate me as much as you pretend?"

"Even more." You raised a brow at him as you moved surprisingly elegantly together. "And it's not pretend."

"Liar." The smile playing over Barty's lips was coy. He dipped you – unnecessarily, might you add – and the smile widened as his face got closer to yours.

"I can still walk away, you know." You held his gaze, refusing to back down from this odd challenge between you.

"You could," he relents knowingly. "But you won't."

Barty’s fingers tightened just slightly at your waist, his gaze sweeping over you in a way that sent a flash of heat to your face. “Seems to me like you enjoy this as much as I do.”

As I do…

“Please,” you scoffed, but you could hear the slight edge in your voice, and his knowing look told you he’d caught it. “I’m just proving a point. Watching you struggle to keep up is its own reward.”

“Is that so?” His smirk softened into something more intense, his eyes searching yours as you swayed closer together. “Because from here, it looks like I’m the one with the upper hand.”

"You're embarrassing yourself, Junior. Looking entirely too pleased with yourself."

"And you," he replied in a low voice, head dipping slightly to be more in your line of sight. "Look entirely too interested."

"You wish." It was less biting than you had hoped for.

Before you could think of saying anything more, any words caught in your throat as he spun you, his hand steady and warm at the small of your back. You stumbled slightly, and he caught you, his other hand moving to your waist to pull you close again. That slightly cropped shirt of his rode up, and a piece of his bare skin was pressed against you, heat emanating from it. You had to force your eyes to remain either on his face or the background. Your heart was racing, though you fought to keep your face composed, determined not to let him see how much he was getting under your skin.

You decided to play dirty as well, and moved your hands that were around his neck so that your fingers brushed the exposed skin there. You bit back a grin when you saw him shiver, just ever so slightly.

Pushing your luck, you let your nails dig just slightly into his skin, enough for him to know it was deliberate, and you felt his chest hitch a breath against yours. You desperately wanted to shut him up, and this seemed to be working.

The song began to fade, but neither of you moved, the rest of the crowd and your friends seeming to melt away as you held each other’s gaze. His eyes flicked briefly to your lips before settling back on your eyes, and you felt a thrill of anticipation that you couldn’t let yourself fall into.

Your handy eye-roll broke whatever tension was there as you took a half-step away from him, letting your hands just barely brush your chest as they fell back to your sides. His smirk never left, but this time there was something else in his expression – an intensity that hadn’t been there before, a softening around his eyes as they held yours.

It was almost nice. Until he ruined it of course. 

"So, we're, like, lovers now, right?" he teased, cocking his head at you.

“Nice try, Junior,” you said, your voice deliberately cool. “It’s going to take a lot more than one mediocre dance to impress me.”

“Mediocre? I dipped you.”

“Mediocrely.” 

You found yourselves grinning at each other at that.

Something you couldn't quite place, and perhaps didn't really want to, flashed across his face. “Challenge accepted, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and promising. "We don't back down from those, do we?"

Before you could respond, he let your waist go – that you had not realised still lingered in his grasp after you dropped your own hands – and made a mocking bow before he backed several strides away from you, eyes glued to yours. He held his hands up in an I'm innocent gesture before cackling as he turned around to stroll back to his friends. You kicked yourself for still looking at him when he threw you a grin over his shoulder.

You let out a breath, from the total exhaustion that is sparring with Barty Crouch Junior, heart still pounding as you made your way back to your friends. Marlene was grinning like she had just witnessed the scandal of the century, and even Remus and Sirius were exchanging looks, barely holding back their amusement.

“Well, that was… intense,” Lily said, eyebrows raised as she made room for you and handed you your drink. You hopped in beside her, cracking your neck that had grown stiff with tension.

“Oh, please,” you said, waving her off as you took a sip. “He’s insufferable as always.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Sirius said, over your antics for the night.

As you glanced across the pub, catching Barty’s eye for just a second, you couldn’t ignore the way he was looking at you, his gaze lingering with a knowing smile, as if he had managed to peel back a layer of you that you tried to keep hidden.

And from the other side of the pub, his eyes still on you, Barty didn’t look away, his smirk softened into something genuine, something just for you.

[peachhcs]

samy struggling with a little bit of her ed and Quinn and Jack and Luke are helping her and being good brothers and are by her side

why have i not seen this ask until now omg (starting to respond to my 140 inbox) i kind of strayed off the ask, but it all comes together in the end trust

eds are always such a difficult topic to write about but i think it’s important to also show it’s possible to recover and overcome something so hard with the right support by your side.

warnings: ed, talk of struggling to eat, talk of skipping meals, talk of throwing up, mental health struggle, please read with caution if this is something that's triggering for you

my messages are always open if you ever need a shoulder to lean on❤️

au masterlist | part 2

it was hard knowing what was going on with one another when it wasn’t summer. the siblings didn’t see each other a lot throughout the year except for breaks or spontaneous trips, so the summer was the only true time they all caught up on each other's lives unless they visited.

jack noticed it first.

it was surprising since luke was always the one to notice changes in their baby sister before him and quinn, but with the brunette being back home again after his second shoulder injury, he caught on a lot earlier this time. samy came home for a weekend before finals started to decompress and take her mind off of studying. jack was happy to have company that weren't their parents breathing down his neck and babying his every move (as much as he loved it, it got old fast.)

samy had always been go, go, go, so her rushing out of the house at times and never slowing down was pretty typical. jack understood that part because he, too, was always in and out of his apartment and on the move to do something because he hated being stationary. her being home though was forcing herself to slow down some and because of that, jack finally noticed samy's behaviors he didn't notice before.

it started small and nearly unnoticeable to someone who wasn't as observant as jack could be sometimes. the siblings were eating lunch together. jack was basically shoveling the food into his mouth, and while samy was eating her sandwich, it was only in tiny bites. she mostly played with the crust and chips on her plate to make it seem like she was eating.

"are you gonna finish that?" jack had been watching her play with her food for the past 15 minutes now. most times, the brothes would eat the leftovers she didn't have, but jack knew she never had that much left over.

samy looked up, "i'm pretty much done. you can have it if you want." she pushed the plate in his direction.

for a moment, jack stared at the barely eaten sandwich and broken up chips. samy almost always ate all of her sandwich besides a few bites and the chips were usually cleaned off the plate. it hardly even looked like she ate anything.

jack was not one to say something though. whenever he noticed something not right he was never the one to mention it, so he didn't say anything as samy hopped off the stool.

"are you sure?" the older boy finally asked.

"yeah, totally. all yours," samy smiled and left the kitchen before jack could ask anything else.

the hockey player glanced at the plate one last time before deciding to let it go figuring maybe samy just wasn't that hunrgy at the moment. he was still hungry, so he'd gladly eat the sandwich so it didn't go to waste.

however, the pattern continued into dinner. ellen and jim were making mindless conversation between the four. jack was half listening, mostly because he didn't care for the topic, but also because he had his attention on samy. she was doing the same thing she did earlier where she played with her food with her fork to make it look like she was eating all of it.

the girl did take a few bites of everything, but what jack didn't know was the internal battle she was having within herself. the voices in her head were screaming at her and the anxieties about her exams coming up hadn't eased as hard as she tried to not think about them. samy couldn't handle the idea of eating.

those thoughts had been plaguing her mind for weeks now. she looked at food and wanted to throw up at the mere idea of putting it in her mouth—and she did even when she did eat something.

samy knew it was bad. she knew she shouldn't be doing it..but after awhile, something in her brain was enjoying the way she locked herself in the bathroom after every meal. the starving..it ignited this itch in her brain that she didn't otherwise feel in the offseason. she couldn't stop.

once dinner was over, jack watched as samy scraped what she didn't eat into the trash. she shot him a brief smile, not knowing he'd been watching her at dinner. she disappeared upstairs and the sound of a door closing could be heard. jack knew it was the bathroom door and he suddenly wondered what she was doing in there.

the situation was hard to approach when jack didn't even know if what he was thinking was right. he knew that confronting someone with an eating disorder always had to be treated delicately and if it was the case, he worried he'd set off samy even more.

for now, he decided to let it go. maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought and it was just high stress because of finals coming up. everyone slips up once in awhile and samy was an adult. she knew how to take care of herself. jack didn't need to be breathing down her neck like she was fifteen still. plus, there was a chance he was just looking too deep into things because of how long he's been at home and everything was just more heightened.

so jack let it go.

what a huge mistake.

two weeks later, luke and quinn flew home for a week once the season was officially over to just catch up with family before completely immersing themselves up at the lake house where they had guests coming every week of the summer. samy came home again too and this time, it wasn’t just jack noticing the changes in her behavior.

luke was the most observant out of all of them, especially with samy, so he caught on pretty quickly after hanging around her for a day. she honestly looked even different than when jack saw her two weeks ago. the bags under her eyes had deepened significantly and her dark circles were way more apparent than before. she looked completely exhausted and..maybe even thinner? jack couldn’t exactly place it, but he knew something was different and it wasn’t good.

like jack, the younger hughes brother watched the way samy threw out most of her lunch when she usually ate everything on the plate. it didn’t even look like she took bites of it and by the time luke dared to ask, she left the kitchen to do something else.

that something else was the youngest hughes crouched over the toilet forcing herself to throw up what she had just eaten. at this point, this was routine for samy. she ate a few bites to make it look convincing and then went to the bathroom to get it out of her system. the brunette didn’t even know why she was doing this. it felt good? she’d been living the past few weeks on autopilot and in anxiety because of her finals that she somehow made herself anxious to food. the mere idea of trying to get something down set the girl into a spiral of well what if she ate it and gained weight because she wasn’t playing soccer at the moment? what if she got sick? what if, what if, what if, what if—those two words phrase clouded her mind.

so she couldn’t eat. no matter how hard she tried. no matter how much she knew she needed to, she just couldn’t do it. it was just normal for her now to skip meals. she couldn’t even remember the last time she had a full meal. days? weeks? it was hole she was struggling to get herself out of the further down she went.

luke was worried for his sister though. she was an athlete. she had to eat and she knew it too. the middle hughes decided to go to his brothers to see if they picked up on their sister's behavior too.

"i don't really know how to not be blunt, so i'll just ask. is samy not eating?" luke asked one day when samy was out of the house and it was just him, quinn, and jack.

jack immediately frowned, "you noticed it too?"

"what do you mean too? you knew?" luke looked surprised while quinn had no idea what they were talking about.

"knew what? what's going on?" the older boy quickly asked.

"i noticed when she came home like two weeks ago before finals. i thought it was just stress of finals or something," jack continued without answering quinn.

luke's face hardened, "and you didn't think to say anything?"

"what would i say? hey, you're not eating, what's wrong?" there was an argument brewing and poor quinn was still out of the loop.

"yes! exactly that!" luke exclaimed.

"dude, in case you didn't know, first rule with someone with an eating disorder is that you cannot confront them like that. it will only make things worse," jack argued right back.

quinn finally understood what was happening as he put the pieces together. luke's expression twisted and the anger in his face dissipated as the weight of jack's words settled in the room. eating disorder. saying it out loud made it that much more real and the reality of their sister's situation quickly set in.

"you really think that's what's going on?" the youngest brother wondered softly.

"i mean what else could it be? she's not eating and if she does she's throwing it up. that bathroom door closes upstairs like clockwork every night," jack said and the brothers all exchanged wary glances.

the thought of what to do next was hard. they needed to talk to her, but they had to approach the situation from a non confrontational standpoint. if they came at her too hard about it, she'd probably freak and deny it and neither of them wanted that to happen. luke decided to call gabe and ryan since he knew they were there for samy when she struggled with her mental health earlier in the year and knew how to approach it without putting labels on her that she wasn't ready for yet.

"hey hughes, what's up?" gabe answered.

"hey gp, how are you?" luke wondered.

"i'm good, man. new york's been real good so far."

"that's great to hear. i've seen some of the highlights. it looks like you've been doing awesome. i'm proud of you," luke smiled.

"thanks, luke. that means a lot. congrats on your season too."

it was always so awkward to go from making small talk to getting to the point of the call. luke shifted on his feet as he changed the topic, "hey, so i don't know how to sugarcoat this so i'll just ask. has samy ever mentioned anything to you or any of the other guys about an eating disorder?"

there was a pause on gabe's end.

"eating disorder? no, why? is she okay?"

"i..i-i..yeah? i don't really know to be honest. she's been acting weird and..we think she isn't eating properly and we don't really know what to do. we were hoping you or ryan or someone may know something or how to approach it with her," luke grimaced.

"shit..i..i mean she's never really said anything about that to us. earlier in the season back in like the fall she passed out during her game, but she told us it was just because she'd been feeling overwhelmed with things, but was gonna work on taking more care of herself," gabe explained and luke knew that part. they all thought she was working on taking better care of herself.

"i think she has a habit of not taking care of herself when things get stressful or reaching out to anyone," luke mumbled and both boys frowned at that.

"how bad is it?"

"she hardly eats anything and jack thinks she's throwing up whatever she does eat."

a painful silence fell between the call.

"do you want us to fly out? help you talk to her?" gabe offered.

luke thought about it for a moment. he didn't wanna make the situation worse, but he also knew how much these guys meant to samy and maybe having them close by could help her.

"yeah, actually. if you could," the boy nodded.

"okay, yeah. we'll fly out. i'll call ryan, will, hannah, and all them."

luke knew if anyone could help samy out of something as serious as this it was her family and best frinds that have been by her side since day one.

—

the sound of a dish breaking and glass shattering woke luke up from a dead sleep. he sat up thinking something in his room fell, but when he didn't see anything broken, he pushed the covers off himself and shuffled into the hallway.

he could hear someone cursing downstairs. the door beside him opened and jack's head popped out. "what the hell was that?"

"i dunno. maybe quinn?" luke mumbled sleepily and the two brothers glanced in the direction of quinn's door. it opened as if they summoned him and his head popped out.

"what the fuck was that?" the older boy grumbled.

they knew it wasn't their parents because they were out of town for the weekend. the idea of someone breaking in flashed in their minds until luke's gaze wandered to his sister's door. it was cracked open which meant she wasn't in her room and it was most likely her downstairs making the noise.

"i think i know who," luke said and took the lead down the stairs. the other two followed silently behind him.

there was a soft glow of light coming from the kitchen. luke rounded the corner and like he suspected, samy was struggling to clean up the glass of a plate that must've fallen. remnants of what looked to be a sandwich was also scattered in between the pieces of glass. the girl jumped when she saw her brothers staring at her in the doorway.

"shit, you scared me," she mumbled.

"what are you doing awake? it's 2 in the morning," luke mumbled while jack went go find a broom to clean up the pieces easier.

"i couldn't sleep," samy shrugged like it wasn't a huge deal.

"so you made a sandwich?"

"yeah? i was hungry? late night snack."

jack came back with a broom, but stopped when he saw his younger siblings staring one another down. luke's fear had a habit of manifesting into anger.

"that's funny coming from you," the curly-haired boy said.

"luke," jack immediately warned.

samy's face twisted, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"we know you haven't been eating in weeks," luke spit out.

samy finally hearing someone say that out loud to her made it all set in. the anger the brothers were bracing themselves for from her never came because luke was right. she hadn't been eating in weeks. she ran to the bathroom anytime even a morsel of food touched her mouth. the only thing she thought about was how much she was eating and if she looked overweight. she thought no one noticed yet here were her three brothers were staring at her with eyes full of worry that she's never seen before—and that told her how bad it was because neither of them had looked at her like that before.

instead of speaking, she cried. her eyes watered and the tears started slow until they all poured out at once. the three boys were motionless until luke stepped over the glass to collect her into a hug. he sunk to the floor with her while jack and quinn huddled around the two once the shock was over.

"it's okay, pop. don't cry. we've got you," luke whispered. he rocked her like a baby and it reminded him of when they were younger and he'd hold her exactly like this when jack or quinn were being a bit too mean, except this time he was comforting her from herself.

"it's gonna be okay, i promise. you're gonna get through this."

when the tears settled the boys helped samy back up. she looked like a shell of herself standing there with puffy eyes and self-deprecating thoughts plaguing her mind. none of her brothers have ever seen her like this before. quinn got her some water to clear her throat while jack cleaned up the rest of the broken plate and sandwich crumbs.

"if you wanna talk we're here," luke brushed some hair from her face.

"it's like i can't get out of my own head..like ever. it's easier when i have soccer to distract me, but when i'm not doing anything for weeks on end, it gets bad again," samy explained briefly. her brothers frowned.

"has talking with that psychologist you mentioned helped at all?" jack wondered.

the girl grimaced, "i sort of ghosted her..."

"pop..you know you can't do that. she wants to help you," quinn said.

"i know, i know. i don't really know what it is or why i just can't ask for help," the girl frowned.

"i get it, it's hard. it's never easy, but there's so many people who love you, pop. we don't wanna see you struggle like this. we want you to get better," jack rubbed her arm and the girl leaned into his touch.

"i called gabe. i didn't know how to approach this and i was hoping him or ryan might know. they're gonna come down sooner. he said he'd call will and hannah too," luke explained.

"it was probably better they heard that from you then from me a second time. i appreciate it, moose," samy forced a smile.

"we don't have to get mom and dad involved, but we need to make sure you're going to get better because if you don't, we have to involve them," quinn stated truthfully. the brothers knew it was hard to bring their parents into things, but if this was something that couldn't get better on its own then they would have to tell them.

samy nodded, "i understand."

they cleaned up the rest of the kitchen and helped get their baby sister back into bed for the night. as if they were kids still, they tucked her in and kissed her forehead. when they let her be the three of them exchanged, sad but hopeful glances. samy was probably the strongest one out of the four of them mentally and they knew she could get herself through this. it may be a long road, but they'd stick it out with her for as long as she needed them for.

[hurtspideyparker]

Avengers Beach Day !

Tony is under a large beach umbrella, sat on a comfortable chair in bright red swim shorts and a flowy floral cover up. He has a large cooler with drinks, sandwiches and pickles. Also chips. Pepper is beside him reading a book about sustainability.

Natasha is in a simple black two piece swimsuit with large sunglasses, soaking in the sun.

"If anybody stares at my ass I will drown you and make sure your body never washes ashore," she warns as she lays out a towel and stretches out in the sun.

Peter and Thor are the first in the water, but only after Steve makes sure everyone has sunscreen on. "The water actually amplifies the harmful UV rays, so you should reapply in an hour. Don't worry, I'll remind you."

Peter and Clint tell Thor about chicken fighting, which delights him, and they are able to convince Steve to join so they can play. Peter sits on Thor's shoulders, and Clint on Steve's. It takes 4 rounds before Clint realizes Peter is cheating by sticking to Thor so he won't fall down. Peter and Thor switch places, but Thor still wins every time because well... muscles.

-

Bruce sets himself up on a blanket with a book but ends up falling asleep within twenty minutes. He sleeps for 2 hours and gets severely sunburnt.

-

Sam and Bucky sit down in two matching chairs a respectable distance apart, sunglasses on. Bucky is completely still for so long that Sam peeks over to see if he's asleep, his body casting a shadow over the soldier.

"Sam, I swear to god."

"Alright alright just checking, don't get your panties in a twist!"

-

Steve ends up floating around in the water peacefully, spread out like a starfish, while Clint and Peter show off their underwater handstand abilities to Thor. When Thor tries one for himself he ends up kicking Steve in the face. Peter and Clint can't stop laughing while Thor apologizes.

-

Natasha eventually joins the boys in the water, in which Clint begs her to play chicken with him because "all these guys are cheating super freaks!"

Natasha gets on Steve's shoulder and Clint on Thor's.

Natasha wins every round.

Clint grumpily complains about losing for the next half hour until he's distracted by food. (Tony makes fun of him for being such a loser on the ride home and Clint doesn't stop talking about how all his friends are freaks for the next 3 days).

-

Tony calls everyone in for some snacks and drinks, and Peter shakes his wet hair out all over Tony.

"Hey, hey! Watch where you shake that thing, I will hold your sandwich hostage!"

"You can't go to the beach and not get wet Mr. Stark, you're so spoiled. I barely talked you out of bringing that big ugly tent, it was practically a house."

"That's it. Thor, have another ham and cheese," he says as he tosses the sandwich to the god.

"No wait I take it back! Thor stop that's mine!"

-

Afterwards Peter finds a spot with damp sand to start building a castle.

"What are you, five?" Sam asks.

"Hey! I just found these old buckets on the shore and thought it would be fun."

"Mhm, keep telling yourself that boy scout."

"Like you could do any better!"

They stare at each other for a moment.

"Imma 'bout to whoop your ass so hard kid," Sam says as he snatches a bucket from Peter and gets to work a few feet away.

-

Bruce rolls over in his sleep like a gas station hot dog. His other side gets sunburnt.

-

"Kid, I'm ready for a swim. Kid?"

"Not now Mr. Stark, I'm in a sand castle building competition!"

Tony stares down at the teenager with his wild curls covered in sand, filling up a neon pink bucket.

"... move over. Where's your moat? You can't expect to win without a moat."

"The water just absorbs back into the ground," Peter says with a frown.

"Hm. We need insulation. Go back into the water and get stones and kelp. And driftwood for the drawbridge. How much time do we have? Can I get my tools?"

"Hey!" Sam yells, "you can't have help! And definitely no genius engineering toolkit."

"Fine, no tools. But I'm allowed Mr. Stark! Just get someone to help you too," Peter replies as he runs off into the water.

"Son of a- Barnes! Get your ass over here! We need to teach this spiderling some manners."

-

"You should reapply your sunscreen," Steve says while hovering near Natasha lying on her towel.

"Touch me and lose your hand."

-

"Tony, the sun's going to set soon, let's go for a nice walk down the beach."

"Not now Pepper, I gotta finish this brickwork," he says with his face millimeters from the sand as he chisels.

"I wanna go for a romantic walk with my partner. The sunset doesn't wait for anyone, even you Tony Stark."

"Mhm, sure after I finish this battlement."

Pepper huffs.

"Whatever, I'll just go with Natasha."

-

"BRUCE, YOU DIDN'T REAPPLY!"

"Wuh- ow, OW OW OW OW OW OW-"

-

"Okay, times up!" Peter announces.

Tony, Bucky, Peter and Sam all stand up. They step back, scrutinizing each other's work.

"Well obviously ours is better. We have a functional drawbridge," Tony is the first to point out.

"You guys are such freaking nerds. Ours is prettier, and taller. Buck found these beautiful baby conch shells," Sam points out.

"We need judges. Thor!" Peter calls out.

-

"Let's stop here for a second, I need to buy some aloe vera," Natasha points out as she and Pepper pass by a small street of local shops near the beach front.

"Oh, are you feeling burned?"

"No it's for Bruce."

"Now that I think about it, I haven't seen him much today."

Natasha keeps her smirk to herself, purchasing the soothing lotion before heading back out to the street.

"Maybe on our way home we can get some ice cream," Natasha says as she points out the shop. "Bet Cap would like some butter pecan."

Pepper giggles.

-

"Ah, finally, Nat! We need a third judge for our sandcastle competition," Sam waves her over as she and Pepper rejoin the group.

"You have Bruce, Thor, and Steve, what do you need me for?"

"Steve is corrupted!" Peter chimes in.

"He's a partisan of the veteran best friends party. For all we know Bucky used his secret Cap knowledge to rig their castle to the ice pop's liking," Tony explains.

Peter sets his glare onto the man in question, "bet you just go crazy for conch, don't you Steve."

"I'd really rather not be apart of this conversation," Steve tells them.

Bucky turns to the women. "Thor voted for us, and Bruce voted for them. You're the tie-breaker Nat."

Natasha hands the bottle of lotion to Bruce who thanks her sheepishly as she steps up to the castles. She circles them slowly, ducking her head and taking in every crevice.

"Functional?" she asks, pointing at the drawbridge.

"Yes ma'am," Tony smirks.

She steps up to the opposing castle.

"You buy these?" she points to the sea shells adorning the castle.

Bucky lifts his chin, "nope, swam for em. All the work was my own, just short of evicting the previous tennants."

Natasha nods before stepping back.

"I've made my decision. The winner..." they all hold their breath, even Pepper and Steve who have no stakes in the the competition.

"Is Tony and Peter."

Cheers errupt, along with the very loud complaining of the two losers.

"Oh come on man! Ours is bigger, and prettier!" Sam protests.

"Oh really Sam? Is size all that matters? Stark's is functional. I don't know about you but I like a little personality beneath the pretty pretty decorations."

Peter pumps his fists in the air with a "woohoo!" before launching himself at Natasha in tight hug.

"I knew I liked you," Tony interjects as he joins the pair's hug, placing a kiss on both Natasha and Peter's temple.

Bucky rolls his eyes at the gesture and hides an affectionate smile.

"Yeah yeah," Natasha chimes, "let's get out of here so you can buy us ice cream."

-

"What are you gonna go for Rogers? Butter pecan?"

Natasha and Pepper snicker at Tony's comment as they collect their own ice creams from the worker; a chocolate peanut butter cone and a raspberry and lemon sorbet respectively.

"Tony..."

"No, no, I got this. Butterscotch? Rum raisin? Pistachio?"

"I'll have you know my taste buds are very modern. Peter showed me this Thai place and now I'm a regular."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Tony says while grabbing his coffee ice cream.

-

"Kid you're making it too easy. You are genuinely a freaking toddler," Sam says when he spots Peter licking a bubblegum ice cream cone.

"If having a personality is childish then it's no wonder you got cookies and cream, ahembasicbitch." Peter coughs the insult out.

"How dare you, you overgrown Little Tikes ad-"

-

Bucky licks his mint chocolate chip ice cream contentedly in the back of the shop while he watches the others fight.

"What do you think they're on about now?" Clint asks from his left.

Bucky glances at the bubblegum cone in the archer's hand.

"No clue."

-

"AHAHHHAAH"

"What! Vanilla is the best flavour!" Steve tries to argue, although Tony's own laughter rings louder than all other conversation in the room.

"M-modern taste buds AH haha-"

-

Bruce watches with awe and slight concern as Thor happily licks his 3 scoop tall rocky road contentedly.

"You hungry man?"

"Aye, I do enjoy the mallow."

Bruce watches the tower lean in every direction, almost falling several times and looking more dismal with every lick.

He almost says something, but Thor always angles the cone perfectly just in time to save it. Instead, he watches silently while scooping a spoonful of cookie dough from his cup.

-

It seems they got the rest of their bickering out at the shop, as with tired and heat-soaked limbs they pile onto the jet for the ride home.

Tony looks back like a mom driving a mini-van.

"The baby's asleep," he smirks at Pepper who looks back at Peter.

The teenager is dead asleep, mouth wide open and head resting on Natasha's shoulder. She glares when she catches Tony's eyes on the pair and he looks away, glancing at the other passengers.

"I could've sworn Bruce's whole schtick was green. Is he rebranding to red?"

Steve looks over at Tony with a shameful pout, "he forgot to reapply."

Tony quirks an eyebrow but doesn't comment, settling back to cuddle with Pepper.

"Mission success," he whispers into her hairline with a soft kiss.