#BASEBALL LIP MY BELOVED

[oscquinn]

High school sports au with Lip maybe dating a cheerleader + "shut up and kiss me already"

sonia i love u sm bc you're enabling me and my baseball!lip x cheerleader!reader addiction >:) no warnings, all characters are 18+, the assumption is they're high school seniors.

prompts from this au list and these subtle smut dialogues. part of my 1,500 follower celebration. celebration masterlist -> here.

the cheer team didn't normally come along to baseball games. however, a special exception was made for a game as important as the state semi-finals.

you smooth the skirt of your cheer uniform nervously and peek into the unused room where the boys are eating before the game, hoping to offer your best friend words of good luck. one of his teammates nudges lip and points to the door, and he looks up with a wide grin once he meets your eyes. he's out the door in a moment's time and his arm wraps around your waist to tug you into his side. "'s pretty cool that y're here," he mumbles.

you smile at him, taking the eye black stick he hands to you with a silent understanding of his question. your hand cradles his jaw to keep him still, applying dark streaks across his cheeks and curving them down into two little points. then, an idea pops into your head. "wait, stay right here," you tell him, tapping your hand on his chest.

you dash down the hallway to the area where the cheer girls have stored their bags, pulling your smallest detail brush from the clutch that held your makeup. you hurry back to a smiling lip, stepping into his space and running the brush over the eye black stick. you hold his face again, your cheeks heating up as his hand falls to your hip. he looks at you like you hung his moon and stars—the same way he has since you were kids—and honestly, to him you probably did. you mentally shake away the butterflies in your stomach to continue what you're doing. your brush draws a small heart beneath the dark line on his right cheek, then you add your initial next to it.

"there, signed my artwork," you say with a smile. "good luck, lip, i know you guys are gonna do great. and i mean, even if you don't, just getting here is-"

"shut up and kiss me already," he cuts you off, and you don’t need to be told twice. your fingers delve into the curls at the nape of his neck, lips pressing together, finally quelling the ache you’ve felt for so long.

the first kiss you share is short, followed by two quick pecks as lip chases your mouth then finally allows you to pull away. his hands stay on your hips like he never wants to let you go. one thumb rubs over the small stretch of skin revealed by your uniform. he stares at you, reverent, eyes moving from your pink lips, to your cheeks, to your eyes.

“what is it,” you ask softly, leaning in tentatively to kiss him one more time. he hums against your lips.

“you’ve, uh,” he traces a finger over your cheek. “you’ve got a little eye black on’ya,” he mumbles.

a giggle bubbles up from inside your chest and you lift your thumb up to pull his bottom lip into a pout. “well, you’ve got a little gloss, so. i think we’re even.”

“yeah?” lip asks with a smirk. he places a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your forehead, then finally breaks your shared bubble. “go on, get y’makeup fixed before the game. i’ll see you after, right?”

you can’t help the wide smile on your face as you respond, “right. i’ll see you then.”

lip gives you a little wave, turns towards the door, then hurries back to your side to steal one final kiss. you exclaim a soft, surprised ‘mmph!’ against his lips, to which he whispers, “for good luck,” before returning to the room with the rest of the team. as soon as the door closes you hear the boys whistle and clap and you laugh with delight, hurrying back to rejoin the rest of the cheer team.

when you step in with eye black smudged on your flushed cheeks they all gather around you, bubbling over with excited giggles and whispered questions.

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 190 }

labor of love.

kenji (ken) sato x fem.reader

ken sato had never known the joys of being pampered and cared for in his adult life-

that is, until the moment he meets you.

you were someone he believed he never truly deserved; a woman who was far too giving, far too kind for the likes of him. yet against all odds, you were someone who remained by his side, knowing of his struggles with taking on the responsibilities of ultraman while maintaining his status as a star baseball player.

you kept him grounded; filling his days with joy when the weight of own personal world was on the brink of collapse as you gave him an unconditional type of love. he never had to hide his emotions or his true self from you when things got hard-

and he loved you dearly for it.

coming home from practice with his team, ken parks his motorbike on his driveway, settled directly next to your car as he smiles at the sight of it. knowing you were already home fills his heart with joy as ken walks with a noticeable bounce in his step up to his house.

his keys weren’t even inserted into the keyhole when the front door suddenly opens, revealing your beautiful features to him. ken smiles, calling out your name with a fondness as you eagerly welcome him into your embrace. “kenji! you’re home…”

he chuckles and wraps his arms around you, stepping into the living room with you still clinging to him while locking the door in the process. “yeah, i’m home, babe.” he brushes his lips against your hair, watching as you scrunch up your nose in response.

“gross, ken, you smell musky and damp.”

feigning offense to your words, ken ends up wrapping the entirety of his limbs around your form, earning a series of giggles from you. filled with affection and a playfulness for you, ken ends up leaning the entirety of his weight on your back, making you let out a grunt as you dragged him with you into the bathroom.

“you’re such a big baby, ken…!”

“yeah? well i’m your big baby, sweets.” ken finally loosens up his hold on you, bringing you back into his powerful embrace when his eyes take in the sight of his bathtub filled to the brim with warm water.

ken could feel his muscles aching with need from the sight, the memory of his coach’s training regimen coming back to him in full force as he let out a loud groan. “babe, for real? you did all this for me?”

“of course i did, you big baby.” you hum while peeling off the rest of his clothes, not stopping until he was bare for you as you carefully lead him into the tub filled with piping hot water. as you help him get into the tub, ken lets out a hiss in response before visibly relaxing, letting out a sigh before submerging the entirety of his body beneath the waters.

“honey, you shouldn’t have… but i ain’t gonna start complaining now.”

your constant giggles were like music to ken’s ears as he felt your hands massaging at his shoulders, working out all the tension his muscles had developed during practice today. “baaaabbbby damn, this feels so good. you’re spoilin’ me too much.”

his voice was drawn out, letting out deep grunts and purrs of your name as you continued to treat him with your massages. when you were certain he was satisfied, you turn away from him and grab his trademark beer, cracking open the can for him while silently beckoning your beloved to take a hold of it.

“holy shit, what in the hell did i ever do to deserve you?”

you giggle again and give him a loving smile, carefully wetting his dark strands of hair before lathering it with his favorite shampoo. you work on massaging his scalp, basking in his groans before admitting to him, “what can i say? my beloved is a star baseball player and ultraman; of course i’d wish to spoil you, kenny.”

ken visibly blushes at the sound of your nickname for him. he lets out a gentle scoff, trying to hide his embarrassment by taking a sip of his beer. the smile was heard from your voice, and you continue to wash his hair until he was satisfied.

after helping him rinse off his hair, you carefully dress your boyfriend in his signature silk robe, pressing a chaste kiss against his lips before leading him back into the kitchen. “sit at the table and i’ll heat up dinner for you.”

ken hums, but stops you from moving when he grips at your wrist to press another chaste kiss against your lips. “you know how much i love you, right?”

“of course i know, you dweeb. i wouldn’t have stayed by your side if you weren’t as crazy about me as i am about you.”

ken rolls his eyes upon hearing your words, but couldn’t stop the blush from deepening against his cheeks. finally, he lets you go and allows you to heat up dinner, continuing to take casual sips of his beer all while eagerly waiting for your return.

within the next 15 minutes, you come back to the dining table and place a piping hot plate of omurice in front of him, drawn with a cute ketchup heart on top of it. feeling like he was on top of the world right now, he gives you a grateful smile before digging into his food, telling you how delicious it tasted as he practically devours his meal within seconds.

not only was his stomach full, but his heart as well. ken was filled to the brim with so much love for you that he honestly felt as though he were living in a dream. as if mesmerized by your tender love and care, ken simply follows you without saying a word, allowing you to take his hand before leading him back to your shared bedroom.

you slowly take off his silk robe, helping him get into his shirt and sweatpants before beckoning him to get into bed. he does so with a low grunt, his handsome features slowly upturned in a smirk before teasing you.

“heh… i’m surprised you haven’t pounced on me yet with the amount of times you’ve seen me naked…”

you roll your eyes at his attempts at seducing you, “don’t be ridiculous, ken, you’re exhausted and mentally drained right now.”

ken merely hums in response, his eyelids starting to grow heavier while yawning. once he was tucked in, you had every intention of finishing up some chores around the house when ken manages to stop you, his large hand gripping at your wrist. you look back at him with a smile, hearing him mutter to you, “mmm stay….”

“you want me to stay with you?”

cue ken giving you a sleepy nod.

“but i’ve got dishes to clean.”

“fuck the dishes.”

you let out a gasp when ken takes advantage of his strength to pull you back into bed with him. he lets out a satisfied hum, allowing you to rest your head on his broad chest. the sound of his calm heartbeat against your ear makes you visibly relax, finding comfort within his warmth while being surrounded by his scent.

“you’re spoiled, you know that, kenny?”

“hmph… y’love me anyways.”

you giggle and nod, pressing a kiss against his chest. “you’ve got me there, kenji.” was your whispered reply, but by now, you were certain that he had fallen asleep. you could feel the way his chest rose and fell in tune with his breathing, making you smile in response.

with a sigh, you cuddle your body closer to his, feeling your eyelids grow heavier before falling into a peaceful slumber. for the next several minutes, silence was heard, and only when ken was certain that you were in a deep sleep did he open one eye to look down at you. remaining ever so careful with his movements, he takes a hold of your left hand and makes a note of your ring finger, already imagining the perfect engagement ring for you.

he lets out a gentle whisper of your name before pressing a kiss against your left ring finger. “i hope you’re ready to be mine forever, babe, because there’s no way in hell i’m letting someone as good as you go.”

a.n. - ken is so cute tbh tbh, i can’t stop thinking about how cute and soft he looks in ultraman rising ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[ghostgirl-22]

Idk why I did this. But since I wrote it yall have to see it (if you choose to read it of course!). Blame my beloved agegap!anon I fear <3

CW: 18+, NSFW, AGE GAP, teacher/student, power dynamics, semi public sex, jealousy, mild possessiveness, super mild D/s

—-

Original.

Pt 2.

Art can’t really help himself. If he could stop he definitely would… Maybe. He wasn’t a virgin before he had sex with his tennis coach, Patrick Zweig. He’d just never been with a boy before. Now that he’s done it, and done it, and. done. it. All over Patrick’s house. He feels a little more confident in his sexuality. And it’s weird. Because now he’s suddenly getting even more attention.

He’s not a slut. Not really. He doesn’t always give it up. But he likes to tease. And he likes the attention.

A lot.

Probably what he likes even more than the attention is the way it seems to break away at Patrick's ever present cool and calm demeanor.

Art was barely flirting, honestly. Kneeling on Chase Roberts feet so he could do sit-ups. Chase has these really pretty brown eyes that sparkle in the sunlight, and Art wasn’t really straddling him, he was just crawling between his legs to get a closer look. He didn’t expect Chase to sit up and kiss him. Or the other boys to tease and jeer when Chase did it. Chase is smirking at him and Art shoves him back down on his back, licking his lips. “You’re such a freak.”

Chase laughs. ”You can’t blame me for wanting a little taste pretty boy.” Art sits up properly, when he hears Patrick blow his whistle. Conditioned for it by now. Patrick’s looking at him but it’s only for a second before he’s yelling at everyone.

“Enough messing around,” he shouts, “since we’re all in a silly mood without the silly skills to accompany it, we’re all doing fucking drills. He says. “Come on…get up. Line up behind the baseline, middle court. Roberts in front.”

Everyone gets up. Patrick bends over leaning in to whisper in his assistant coach, Meg’s ear. His little purple shorts, forming to his ass, riding up so Art can see more of his muscular thighs. Thighs Art has sat on, that he’s felt hot and warm beneath him while taking the full length of Patrick’s cock. He never felt more grown up. He bites his tongue trying not to get hard.

Coach Meg gets up and pulls on her baseball cap. “Okay everyone we’re doing baseline, mid court, center shots.” She shouts. “For every ball you miss or hit out of bounds you run a lap and get back in line.”

There’s some irritated mumbling as Art gets in line but no one gets too loud for fear it will get worse.

“Donaldson, come with me,” Patrick says. Grabbing his clip board and walking towards the locker rooms. Art looks around and some of his teammates are smirking. Roberts makes a kissy face at him.

“I hope you’re all paying attention,” Coach Meg says, whacking Tyson Wahler with her clipboard when he mimics a sloppy make out. Art grins and hurries to catch up with Patrick.

Art is breathless when they get into the facilities building. “Am I in trouble, coach? Art asks playfully, but Patrick doesn’t really give him anything. Just keeps up his breakneck walking pace.

He approaches his office and pulls open the door, holding it for Art. Art walks in and looks around. He’s probably only been in here once, with a teammate to ask about switching doubles partners because they were both left handed.

Art turns back around to face him. “So what’s the big—“

Patrick covers him mouth and walks him backwards up against the closed office door. “Mm Donaldson, you talk too much.” He’s all in Art’s face. Art’s heart rate speeds up quickly, blood furiously rushing to his cock. “Did you fuck him?”

Art raises his eyebrows.

“You can nod, yes or no. Did you and Roberts fuck?”

Art shakes his head.

“Did you fuck any other boys since the weekend?”

Art shakes his head again. He’s actually falling apart for how fucking hot this feels. Patrick going insane over a little kiss. He licks at Patrick’s palm just to get a taste of him.

Patrick presses his forehead against the wall next to him. “Mm…you have to fucking stop.” He whines and pulls his hand off of Art’s mouth.

“Did you fuck your girlfriend since the weekend?” Art says, grinning as he tries to catch his breath and settle down.

He can’t settle down.

Patrick pushes up against him and he can feel. Fuck. He can feel it. “You’re such a fucking brat,” Patrick whispers in his ear.

“And you’re a pervert, all over me and I’m barely out of high school.” Art breathes as Patrick’s rubbing up against him. “Won’t even let me fuck a boy my own age.”

“No one your age knows how to do it properly,” Patrick whispers.

Art starts sucking kisses into his throat.

“You… fuck… you know you make me crazy. Sitting on my court, showing off that body, crawling on boys laps and letting them… oh fuck it…“ Patrick grips Art by the waist, taking his mouth in a bruising kisses, all while walking him up against the desk and bending him over. Art is pushing back on him while he’s rummaging in his desk drawer. He pulls out a condom and then he’s pumping lotion out to use as lubricant. Art feels his mouth watering. As hot as he was earlier he’s going insane now.

“I knew you’d be this fucking tight still,” Patrick groans as he’s filling Art, big hand covering his mouth to keep him quiet. Or muffled at least. Art licking, talking, moaning against his palm. Fucking in Patrick’s office while the rest of the team is running around the court. Patrick, so frantic and desperate to claim him. Ramming his prostate over and over and over till Art is spilling all over the desk, muscles trembling, head dizzy. God. He can’t believe it took him so long to start. It feels so good getting full on Patrick’s cock. Art wants it every fucking day.

“Holy shit,” Patrick sighs as he’s tying off the condom and easing his shorts back up.

Art’s all dizzy and in love with him. And now he smells a lot like cherry almond lotion.

Patrick settles on his desk chair, manspreading as he pulls out his pack of cigarettes. “I shouldn’t be doing this. Fuck. I’m gonna get caught and get fucking fired.”

“Have you ever done it with a player before?” Art asks, lightly.

“Are you kidding? I’ve done fucked up shit before. I’ve done stupid shit before, but never anything this stupid and fucked up.”

Art sits on the desk, he’s all sore and it feels so good he wiggles just to feel the ache and he puts his foot between Patrick’s thighs.

“If you give me your number, I’ll do whatever you want. I won’t fuck anyone else,” Art says.

Patrick takes a deep breath and pops a cigarette in his mouth before playing with Art’s shoe laces. He then takes the cigarette out of his mouth like he’s just realized he’s still inside. “No you’re a kid. You’re gonna be calling me and texting me at insane hours asking for things that I’m gonna fucking do because I have no self control. And I’m gonna end up seeing them blown up on a board in front of the school ethics committee.”

”I won’t say anything bad. I swear.” Art says. “If I’m horny I’ll just send you an eggplant emoji. Like 39 times. Isn’t that how old you are? Or is it one for good luck?”

Patrick snorts. “Get up and go back to practice, you little shit. And tell Megan we were in here talking about that recruiter that was here last week.”

Art shrugs and pushes himself off of the desk. “Can you come with me?”

“I’ll be there in 5 minutes… I promise.”

Art sighs and lingers to the point where Patrick just smiles. “Fine, come on. You get so fucking clingy after.”

“No I don't," Art says, defensive and a little warm because it’s true… Art does want to be around him. Though he doesn’t think clingy is the word.

Patrick straightens his office and Arts hair and checks himself in the mirror before they leave. He lights up as soon as they get outside. Art falls into lock step with him. “Try to relax— cause as soon as we get up there, you’re not sitting around me, it’s gonna be laps. And no more fucking kissing Roberts or anyone else.”

“I’ll try not to,” Art says grinning, knowing that if this is his punishment he might just kiss everyone on the team.

(Btw…Other anon with the brilliant ask in this au I can’t resist — I’m totally coming to that! A thousand percent! Trust!)

[amyriadofleaves]

୨ kenji sato — old habits die hard. ˚୧

synopsis : kenji sato breaks under the weight of new, unfamiliar eyes ─ foolishly confessing his love to the public. you, the one that got away, are stupid enough to fall into his trap. will you two ever be able to just be friends?

⌗ pairing : kenji sato x fem!reader ; warnings : alcohol consumption, sexual innuendos ; word count: 3k ; angst!!!

© an amyriadofleaves work. do not plagiarise, translate, or use to train ai.

KENJI SATO, newly recruited, renowned and beloved baseball player of The Giants, is being interrogated to the bone.

“Come on, relationships have nothing to do with my career,” he sneers with a curl of the lip, guise of unease betrayed by the incessant movement of his knee concealed by the navy blue tablecloth.

A woman, clad in a blazer, follows up with her question. “They have everything to do with your career, Mr Sato. You return to Tokyo only weeks before your championship with the Dodgers. Why?”

The silent, yet deafening clicks of cameras give Kenji a pocket of air to swallow hard, clearing his throat into his fist. Perhaps it’s the heat of the moment, but he doesn’t realise that the baritone of his voice had been caught by the mic, blaring through the speakers. Not that it was his intention to shut the whole room up, but he’ll take his victories. 

Kenji eyes his PR team in the back of the room, giving them the look they’ve been trained countless times  to know he’s about to make a dumb move — after many close misses, perhaps this is the blow he deserves to take. “Ms. Wakita, right? Ever associate something you love with someone you’ve loved? Well — I’m simply here to feel a little closer to that someone. I hope you understand, Ms. Wakita, that I wish to not elaborate any further.” 

He shoots a small smirk at the camera airing this conference live, hoping with some semblance of his untouched ego that you’d see it.

Ami Wakita eyes him with an amused look, penning down every word of his down to a T. Kenji Sato, sitting on the other side of the room, takes a generous gulp of water before plastering that shit eating grin that glitters amongst the sea of camera flashes. “That’s all for tonight, everyone. Keep your eye out for the Ken Sato on the field.” A subtle wink at the camera goes unnoticed by the man behind it, but certainly not by you. 

Because nothing gets past you.

You chuckle nervously at the man seated next to you, the silhouette of your ex tracing every inch the projector can cover. Sure, word had spread about Ken Sato returning to Tokyo, but you thought it an utter sham; whether it was in the States, or home in Japan, gossip columns would and still will fight tooth and nail for ways of profit. And you, of all people, should know this well. Though hard to admit, his face swamped you with a multitude of emotions your trip to the bar was supposed to help with, but little Ken just had to ruin the fun — along with the pleasure your distraction, a white, tall, and borderline conceited man was supposed to provide you with.

Looks like that’s going to have to be another day, then.

“You a fan of that guy?” the man asks, brusquely pointing to the live broadcast. 

Adjusting your top, you sceptically analyse the way his eyes dip to your chest, and your brows furrow as his gaze trails lower, and lower… “More than a fan actually.” your voice comes out meek, and you think this is how you broadcast your lie to the world. But your audience is a tipsy man with a shell for a brain, so what threat does he bring to you?

More than a fan, huh? It was definitely more than that. From late night drinks to advancements you swear on your whole being to not speak of, you think you’d consider yourself more than that. 

Frankly, with no terms to address the man except for using the term ‘man’, you know nothing about the drunk specimen in front of you — and he knows nothing of you, either.

He scoots closer to you, arms rested against the bar table. The stifling scent of his cologne does nothing to drown the beer’s breath with every syllable coming out his mouth. “Well if you’re the fan you claim to be, how have you not recognised me yet?”

You almost scowl at his cockiness. It’s even worse than Ken’s! God. “Well, unfortunately, I only focus on the important players. ” Your words come out muffled as you take a shot of vodka, sliding it across the table to request for another to add to your tab. It’s your fifth, and you haven’t even started feeling fuzzy yet; this is going to be a long night.

The man, on the other hand, seems piss drunk — and given your observations, this is only his third shot.

Lightweight, you note, his flushed cheeks and lidded eyes a spectacle for sore eyes. You feel your heart constrict into itself; for a second, in your stupor, his face flits to Ken's. Pulling away from him, you turn your head to the couple sat in a booth to divert your attention, but it only makes matters worse — so you resort to shutting the world out.

“I could show you how important I am if you’d come over to my place,” the man mewls, slithering his hand onto your thigh. It’s awfully easy to catch his bluff, and you certainly aren’t buying that awful sneer.

A nervous, polite laugh leaves your lips before you swat his arm away with a chastising glare. “I think you’ve got this wrong. I don’t think you know how important I am.”

He begins to giggle, and he keeps on giggling until he’s caught by a snort. You can’t help but grimace. There are many things you aren’t sure of, but you know for a fact that there was absolutely no shot that this man was an athlete. “And just who might you be?”

A satisfied smile tugs at the sides of your lips. “That just gives you your answer. I’m too important for you, and our conversation is over.”

You grab your purse and slam a hundred dollar bill onto the table, swiping the man’s shot and downing your own shot and his at once. The buzz of alcohol numbs the burn as it travels down your throat. 

He grabs your wrist with a quivering grip. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Haven’t you heard? I am the most demanded model in this city. So if you think you can win me over with sweet talk, you’re wrong.” You wrench the hold he has on you, and backhand him (though the swing is terribly calculated). 

See, if you were sober, you would’ve held him to it — that he owed you. But with seven shots of vodka now finally working its way through your system, you let it slide.

Your stilettos click angrily against the marble floor, and you walk out with two lies.

The first: You weren’t at the bar for a good time.

The second: You definitely aren't a model at the biggest agency in Tokyo.

The bell tied to the handle of the door jingles as you storm out (with a concerning amount of difficulty) of the bar with your thumb out on the road. 

“Taxi!” you shout, to no fruition. 

After ten minutes of nothing, an orange taxi stops and swerves to your end of the sidewalk.

Stumbling into the taxi with nothing to show for the decorum you had seven shots ago, you slip off your heels and hug the headrest of the taxi driver. “To the Sato Residence please,” you command — or so you think you do — before keeling to the side and vomiting up your dinner.

“Ken. I don’t think that was a very good idea,” the supercomputer Mina reprimands, robotic arms reaching for her spherical head. 

Ken maintains an unbothered pose with his arms crossed. “But it sure as hell was an amazing one.” He curtly taps the bottom of his couch with his heel to reach for a drink in his mini fridge, only for it to shine with the enthusiasm of seven coconut water cans.

“Ugh Mina,” he groans, sliding a clammy hand down his face. “Do you not have anything else?”

“Would you like it if I gave you water instead?”

This only spurs him to move both his hands to cover his face in what Mina detects is shame. She floats closer to him, the light of her eyepiece a stinging pain against the backdrop of dimness. “Is something wrong? I detect you are going through… some stress.”

“Yes Mina, yes I am! And it’s not ‘cause I just outed being in love with someone in Tokyo —” He trails off, digging himself into a deeper hole when hit with the realisation that Tokyo, out of the cities in Japan, is a small world of connection. Everyone knows everyone. Shit.

She reaches for a can of coconut water with a metallic arm and opens it, offering it to him. Ken, coming empty for excuses, accepts the drink, wincing as he sips it. “It’s ‘cause I still — nevermind.”

“Because you still what, Ken?”

“Goddamnit Mina. Do I have to spell it out for you? I still miss this girl!” He thinks of you and almost makes himself sick at the thought of you with another man; and for a sudden, lurching moment, he wishes he never had an imagination at all. 

He slumps into his seat, peeking through the slits of his fingers, admittedly curious to see what the robot’s reaction to his statement would be. 

Ken visibly wilts when she doesn’t move a muscle — or robotic limb, or whatever.

“Would you like for me to contact her?” “Yeah no, no.” He shakes his head, but stops mid-action. “Wait — how do you know who I’m talking about? I don’t think I’ve ever talked about her, have I?”

She floats around him as if in orbit, and pokes at his head. He whines out an ow! “You have. When severely intoxicated. Which is why I’m not giving you anything other than coconut water.” “God save me.” 

And that He does, when Ken’s moping is interrupted with a ding of the entrance. 

You rethink what you’ve known about yourself, and it’s that you certainly cannot take seven shots of vodka, and that it leads you to doing stupid things: like walking half a kilometre of an automatic bridge just to have it out with Ken Sato. 

Any normal person would have walked the distance in less than five minutes, but it took you twenty. Still, in your eyes, pretty impressive. You give yourself a pat on the back; but for some reason, the intention is off and you’ve just slapped yourself in the chest. Way to go.

The alarm to his house doesn’t blare when you heave the gate open. Woah, since when did it get so heavy? You giggle to yourself, the prospect of no alarms going off an unimportant matter in the midst of your exhilaration.

Stumbling to his doorstep, your heels click sloppily on cement — confident stride muffled by the slurring of words you never knew existed in the first place. You feel your way to the entrance, sliding your hands across a bike — his bike. If your sight wasn’t blurred, you could spot a polaroid of a familiar face taped just a little to the left of the speedometer.

Your wandering hands lose hold of the vehicle and feel for the doorbell, and clumsy you misses the mark. Bullseye, your Ken would say, glimmering with all the love in the world when your arrow proved as accurate as your aim.

Leaning against a pillar, you almost slip forward before the door opens just in time. But instead of meeting marble, you meet the warmth of an embrace.

Seeing him in the flesh stirs something terribly nostalgic you could definitely use for vomiting in the taxi again.

“Hey, Ken Sato, how’s it going?” you mumble with your gestures sluggish — and ultimately, very miscalculated; so your attempt at sounding sober goes to waste the second you bump head first into the man who completely did not expect to see you.

Ken stumbles backward in both surprise and the sudden addition of weight on either side of his arms; and to him, you sound like a garbled mess. But above all, you’re still the same girl who cussed him out the first time you met. 

You try to walk, but the attempt goes to shit, and you see a floaty thing manifest a bed at Ken’s own command. Crazy stuff. You almost fall for Ken’s offer to carry you, but you’re not one to fall back into bad habits.

When you sag onto the mattress, you see him crouch down so your face is level with his. “[Name], what happened?” 

“You happened, Ken. Finally found me worthy enough to come back for? I saw your little speech about love at that press conference,” you seethe, ignoring how your words end in a quiver. Brimming, hot tears, betray whatever semblance of composure an intoxicated woman can hold for herself. Suck it up, you tell yourself — because if you needed to cry, it would not be in front of the reason.

This mantra doesn’t seem to hold for any longer than you think it will, because you finally find something that makes you break: his own, crestfallen curl of the lip.

“Hey, hey,” he starts, hesitantly reaching to wipe the tears staining your face. But seeing you after two years, such intimacy came at a price: your complacency. Would she want it? Want me? He thinks, eyes diverted so he wouldn’t have to bear the sight of someone he never knew as messy. Someone he never knew to break. 

He, against all his strongest desires, retracts his hand. In some act of desperation, in some act of needing to feel him, you take his hand and press it against your cheek. He brushes the tears pooling around his thumb in slow circles, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. You wouldn’t consider his words nothing, not after he mutters a quiet, incomprehensible ‘I won’t leave you. Not this time.’ under his breath. 

Nothing gets past you.

“But you lied. And I believed you. Over and over —” you hiccup, your hand over your mouth to muffle your cries. 

His voice softens a notch, and it's so subtle someone as wasted as you wouldn’t notice, but you find you notice it more than you would’ve with a clearer mind. “I know, I know. And I’m sorry.”

“Are you really? Because the last time I checked, you were the one who left me behind.”

He doesn’t reply.

He knows he should take your words with a grain of salt, and against his better judgement, he doesn’t. To be frank, he never did. Every word from your lips dripped with golden honey, and he still, against his better judgement, savours every last drop.

You choke up on a sob, and Ken rushes to trace lines from the cliff of your shoulder bone to the very tips of your fingers. It was something he used to do — a little joke between the two of you. Something you shook off as a placebo, and something he insisted helped you with your anxiety.

Or rather, the only way he knew how.

It was — and still is, the only way for him to level the wrinkles of your face, just so he could at least see you soothe in his arms — for some morbid part of him crunches up at the thought of this being the last time he sees you; in this state, delirious, yet, for lack of better words: painfully right.

“I just — I just wish we could go back to being us,” you croak, reaching to trace the fine lines of his face. Your touch blindly feels for the familiar: the dip from his jawline to the nape of his neck, the scar soldered into his cheekbone, the softness of his lips. 

All rhyme or reason (if there was any to begin with) blurs into the fray, and the war raging in your chest comes to a standstill, docile in nature. You feel his Adam's apple bob against your touch, and your hand travels, and travels, until met with your comfort against the cacophony of searing voices. 

The approach is slow and borderline sloppy — though you can’t expect much of it. It’s just how things were with the two of you. Your lips hover against his, before you give up everything you’ve ever believed in for a crash against his lips, the taste of vodka weaving into his veins (except that it’s not the vodka, it’s very obviously you).

He rounds around the curve of the bed to feel you, and you let his hands wander. Some part of you screams in reprimand — that for some inexplicable reason, you’d regret this in the morning. But why would you regret having everything you’ve wished for in the very palm of your hands?

That is exactly why.

The high is stripped from you like an angel of its wings, and you pull away, eyes puffy and lips swollen. “I — we can’t do this.”

He pulls away, brows knitted. “We can’t and yet we still are doing this! [Name], what is it you really want?” His eyes search yours for an answer, before he gives you that look again. 

You smile, and this time, it’s beautifully real. “I don’t know. But it has to stop. We’re a mess, can’t you see?”

“Yes, we are. But that was our thing.” That is our thing, a voice inside him screams, but the words die on his tongue. Again, and again, his words fail him like he does a lost game.

Everything around you is a swirl of blocked colour, but you squint through the grain and push him away with a light nudge of his chest against your palms.

“And it isn’t gonna stop until one of us does,” you say, biting your lip from going back on your word.

“We can make it work. I promise,” he begs, reaching for your hands. 

In an attempt to shrug off your daze, you rake a hand through your hair and reach for your purse that had fallen in the heat of it. “We loved each other, Ken. But I think we should stop convincing ourselves we still do.”

His eyes flit to the floor, and his tousled hair falls against his nose. And to a certain pair of people an arbitrary moment ago, they would’ve thrown themselves against all propriety upon white bed sheets with sun peeking through the blinds, and your fingers would’ve combed through strands of tousled, jet black hair that appeared honey like in the dawn.

Through the haze of your high, you catch a glimmer of hope you’ve never seen him have. “Please, you’re still drunk. Let us discuss this when both of us are in our heads, yeah?”

Tilting your head to the side, it is your only sign of complacency that he recognises amidst it all. Through your insobriety, your smile can only tell him just as much: 

This is never gonna end, and we both know it so.

a/n: hello hello!!! please excuse the sappiness i've written the bulk of this at times where I shouldntve been awake GOD I blame it on the fact that this guy actually consumes every morsel of my SOUUL

[kierewrites]

What Would Karma Do... when you support him at his baseball game?

navi - masterlist

Karma Akabane x Reader

Mood Song: dare

Summary: Remember the beloved Assassination Classroom anime? This is pretty much that, except you enter the picture of Karma's chaotic school year. Let's see just how compatible the two of you are.

Warnings: mild cursing, just some chaotic fluff

Ever since the kidnapping incident, things have been ironically great.

It was ironic because to any regular person, said things should’ve been horrible. You had a new classmate that was a robot, Korosensei's apparent brother came and tried to kill him, and Professor Jelavic's old teacher came to try and show you all a lesson.

But somehow amongst the chaos you found harmony. Honestly you were surprised with the way you were handling things. Between getting kidnapped and the rest of the unusual events, it’s safe to say you didn’t see this much action back at your prestigious school from your old country.

Regardless, you couldn't help but feel this newfound comfort was thanks to your lovable (and slightly chaotic) red headed boyfriend, Karma Akabane.

Ever since you had almost been kidnapped your relationship with him grew stronger. He began to open up new sides of himself with you, just as you did with him. For once everything seemed to be going great. That is, until the A Class came back into the picture.

"Well, that was a beating." Nakamura sighed as the females of your class trudged to the baseball fields.

Thanks to your training, you didn't feel too sore from the rough loss you just endured, but that didn't help your deflated ego.

Back at home you were great at many sports, winning was just something you were accustomed to at this point. But unfortunately you had to play the one sport you despised: basketball.

Each of the classes had a tournament of different sports, the boys were currently playing baseball while the girls just finished their basketball tournament. You would've killed to play baseball instead, but beggars can't be choosers. The A Class had olympian-like players anyways, so at least the outcome wasn’t that big of a shock.

"For real, I feel like all my fingers are broken." You whined with a pout of your lip as you wiggled your sore fingers around to help the aching feeling.

"No worries, there's always next time, yeah?" Kataoka said with a soft smile, her words making the group of defeated players feel just a bit better.

Kayano whimpered as she looked down solemnly, "It was my fault. My suckage dragged the whole team down." 

"Oh come on don't be like that." You sighed as you wrapped an arm around her.

"Yeah Y/n is right, we all sucked"

Kayano let out an annoyed growl as she crossed her arms, claiming her lack of skill was due to the rather… feminine build of the Class A players. At this you couldn’t help but snort, watching as your classmates argued over whether that truly mattered.

You knew your own chest was a fair size so you decided not to butt in for the sake of the argument. Luckily for all of you, the large fence of the baseball field came into view about halfway through the conversation, a smile curling onto your lips.

The feeling of an elbow jabbing your side caused you to choke a bit as you looked over to see Nakamura smirking at you.

"Excited to see your boyfriend~" Nakamura playfully sang, the girls all squealing at the sight of your cheeks glowing a bright pink tint.

Laughing bashfully you fiddled with your fingers as you grinned over to her, "Maybe~."

"I still find it ironic you and Karma became a pair, he gives me the heebeejeebees." Kurahashi said with a shiver, a few of the girls nodding in agreement at that.

All you could do was really shrug. You knew where they were coming from, but you just saw things differently with the chaotic brute.

"Anyways, let's hope the boys are doing better than we did." Hayami said, all your gazes now focusing on the field where you watched your fellow classmates in uniform.

-

Based on the sight of things, the game didn't seem to be going well. Or even fair for that matter.

Class A's team was mere steps away from your class' batter. It was obvious he wouldn't be able to swing without the ball being caught immediately.

The sight made your brows knit together in frustration, your fingers clinging to the thin metal bars of the fence as your classmates gathered close by. Karasuma was already there watching intently, his expression understandably grim.

"Looks like the boys were doing better than we did," Nakamura said with a sigh as she pointed out the scoreboard with your class in the lead, "But it looks like they're suffering the consequences now with Mr. Stick-Up-His-Butt."

Your eyes moved from the scoreboard to the very principal himself who stood from the dugout, a devious intent in his eyes.

The sight alone made you shiver. Just like his son, something just seemed very off about that man.

Your thoughts came to a halt when the sound of a familiar tongue clicking filled your ears. Tilting your head to the side, your eyes widened to see a familiar redhead leaning against the gate entrance to the field.

"Tsk tsk tsk, I'm disappointed your eyes weren't on me first angel."

Smiling wide, you jogged over to your boyfriend and jumped into his awaiting arms.

"Sorry Karma I got distracted, I missed you today." You mumbled with a smile as you stood on your toes just to peck at his lips.

Karma simply chuckled as he returned the peck before glancing back to the field with a raised eyebrow, "I missed you too Y/n, but mind me asking who distracted you first?"

Karma's jealousy never failed to peek out from his nonchalant facade, his words making you roll your eyes at him playfully before you glanced back at the field to search for your prior distraction.

"Principal Asano just caught my eye... I don't know what it is but something about him makes me feel uneasy everytime I see him.”

The slight shiver of your body didn't go unnoticed by Karma, his arm squeezing your waist gently leading you to look up to his confident golden hues.

"What the old man? Don't let him get to you, it's just a facade." Karma said with a grin as he shifted your hips so that you were facing him once again, "Just you wait, once we beat these Class A jerk-offs you'll get to see the principal lose his cool, it'll be a dream come true."

Giggling at Karma’s all too excited plan, you snaked your arms up into his red locks giving them a ruffle while playfully raising a brow.

"Be nice my prince of chaos, we don't wanna hurt their egos too much."

Karma let out a genuine laugh at that, smooshing his lips up against your cheek before backing towards the gate entrance, "Whatever you say, princess."

His return of the mocking nickname made you roll your eyes, but not before blowing him a kiss as he jogged back to his classmates. This game was sure to be interesting.

-

"We're at the top of the second inning and the invincible defense is still the order of the day!" The sports newscaster exclaimed over the radio.

"Batter number eight, left-fielder Akabane."

Your eyes lit up as you saw your boyfriend walk up to the base, you were about to shout his name but paused in your decisions when you noticed the redhead looking deep in thought.

Blinking at this, you glanced to the field and noticed the rest of the team just a few footsteps away from Karma as some sort of defense. Though you were no expert in baseball, you knew there's no way that was allowed.

"Move it kid. Get your tail in the batters box." The referee shouted, he sounded a bit agitated.

Karma simply glanced towards your principal, his eyes narrowed in focus causing you to raise a brow.

"Never pegged you as the type to play dirty, sir." Karma spoke, venom on his tongue as the principal simply smiled at the boy.

Now it was all making sense, the principal was Class A's new fill in coach of sorts. What happened to their old one?

"If the rules haven't changed, this little gambit ain't legal. They're guarding the infield, umpire should've called it by now." Karma hissed, his head glancing back at the A Class spectators with a grin, "Oh come on, anyone smell a rat or is it just me?"

At this your classmates seemed to snort. Though Karma was being his usual snarky self, everyone knew he was right. This was a risky call for the principal; was he really that scared of your class winning? This rivalry the classes had amongst each other must have been much more personal than you thought.

"Oh, never mind!" Karma exclaimed with a sly smirk as he pointed towards the A Class spectators, "You guys are morons, baseball is like a foreign language to ya!"

At that final comment there was a mix of laughter and yelling. You couldn't help but giggle as he stood amongst the angry students with his arms out, as if he was welcoming the angry cries. 

His golden eyes landed on you for a quick second, he flashed a smile and winked before turning back to bat for his team. This trouble maker was going to start a riot and his only response was sticking his tongue out.

Sure enough the rest of the game went as expected. The A Class was playing dirty, from getting too close to the players to even bunting the ball making it nearly impossible for the E Class to have any sort of defense.

Your poor classmates looked exhausted and drained, you felt horrible for them. This game was getting dragged out in the blazing heat all because A Class couldn't take a loss.

Just as it was Class E's turn to play defense, Karma ran to the group with what looked like an idea in mind. You knew he had been talking to Korosensei, maybe it was a new plan for them to win?

Sure enough as your classmates broke away from their huddle the plan was revealed, but you weren't very fond of it.

Karma and Isogai moved not even three feet away from the batter that was up. Karma's golden eyes glared towards the principal as you heard him speak up.

"Choking up the infield isn't helping the batter's concentration, but what are you gonna do? Now if the umpire had called you on earlier there'd be a precedent for telling us to back off." Karma explained as a matter of factly, his eyes narrowing as he grinned to the principal, "You're cool with this, right chief?"

Suddenly your heart began to race a bit faster. There's no way the principal would okay this right? It was just a silly baseball game, it wouldn't even hurt your school's reputation.

Unfortunately the principal didn't seem to care as he simply smiled and nodded his head.

"Proceed as you will, a true athlete does not falter before such trickery."

Your eyes widened as Karma's grin turned into a wicked smirk at his words.

"Wow, duly noted." Karma cooed before him and Isogai walked even closer to the batter until they were a mere footstep away, "We'll hold you to that sir."

Moving closer to the fence you attempted to call out Karma's name until you felt a hand on your shoulder. Glancing up you noticed it was Karasuma's hand but he kept his eyes glued to the field.

"You have no reason to worry Y/n, the boys know what they're doing and they're following the octopus' order."

Biting your lip you let out a shaky sigh and nodded before glancing back to the field.

Even the batter seemed to be a bit shaken up, but the principal simply said to ignore them. His words nearly made your head explode, your foot nervously tapping against the messy clay of the field.

As Sugino made his first pitch the pitcher sure enough followed the principal's orders and swung, the bat just inches away from Karma and Isogai's heads as they moved back barely an inch. The sight made you gasp as you began to anxiously bite at one of your nails, this was insane!

Karma only seemed amused as he moved closer to the batter with a psychotic grin, "Give us a break, holding back ain't gonna cut it pal. On the next throw, swing like you're trying to kill us."

In the next moment you expected to see Karma and Isogai on the ground with cracked skulls, but instead you heard the batter cry in fear as he hit the ball awkwardly causing it to bounce on the ground.

Karma was quick to jump and catch it, throwing it to Nagisa so he could place it on the home base. Isogai then quickly instructed Nagisa to throw it to third base which he did, Kimura catching it just in time to get the last player of Class A out.

"T..The game is over!" The sports announcer said shakily, "I can't even... this is insane! The winner is... I never thought I would say this but the winner is E Class."

Though there were obvious groans and gasps of shocks, the cheers from your class were much louder as you all clapped and shouted their names. Your classmates soon left the field to meet up with you guys, your classmates all high fiving and cheering for one another.

Skipping to your boyfriend you gave him a tight hug, his arms raising in surprise before he chuckled and hugged you back.

"That was amazing Karma!" You exclaimed into his chest as he ran his fingers through your locks before taking a step back and glaring at him as you grabbed onto his collar and pulled him down to your level, "But if you ever do that again I'll kill you!"

Karma's eyes widened in surprise before he laughed and shooed your hand off his shirt, "Yeah yeah. You know I wouldn't have let those A Class jerks touch me angel."

His smug words made your lips tug into an annoyed frown as you crossed your arms at him, the sight making Karma roll his eyes before snaking his arms around your waist and tugging your turned back against his chest. Your attempt at remaining annoyed with him slowly cracked as he kept placing messy kisses on the sides of your face.

"Don't make that pouty face, you'll get ugly wrinkles."

Your pouted lips immediately fell in feigned offense as you narrowed your eyes up at him, but before you could rebuttal, you heard some of the A Class students grumbling to themselves.

"Oh damn that was totally pointless, how did they lose to those E Class jerkwads?" One of the boys snarled. Their words made your brows furrow as you gripped onto Karma’s arms that were wrapped around you.

Karma seemed just as annoyed as his grip on you tightened slightly.

"All that superior fire power wasted."

Finally having enough of their passive aggressive comments, you stood up a bit straighter as you shouted over to them with a grin, “I think you mean all that superior fire power lost.”

The sight of you sticking your tongue out at them soon after your comment made their faces scrunch in anger, but as soon as they caught sight of the scary looking man behind you, they quickly averted their gazes and mumbled amongst each other.

Watching them walk away made you huff, your body turning around to face Karma as you puffed your cheeks out in annoyance, “Those jerks just won’t leave us alone! Someone ought to teach them a lesson.”

The sight of your frustrated expression nearly made Karma groan as he smirked down at you. Though a rare sight, you always looked so adorable all fired up. He couldn’t help but tease you.

“Woah don’t get too fired up there angel, you may do something crazy like try to set their alarm clocks an hour back so they’re late to school.”

Karma’s words made your lip pout as you glared up to him with folded arms.

“Have fun walking up the hill by yourself.” You huffed, turning on your heel to walk off with your classmates, but you were stopped in your tracks as strong arms lifted you into the air, your growls slowly molding into giggles as Karma ran with you to catch up with your class that already began their ascent to the classroom.

Nothing out of the ordinary for your classmates, they simply observed your interaction with smiles before Karma placed you down, the large group of you walking up together with a sense of provide filled in all of you.

“So, how did the basketball tournament go?” Nagisa asked, turning back to his classmates only to be shocked at the dull expressions on the girl’s faces.

“Oh yeah! Did you kick-” Karma’s words were cut off when a collective sigh of groans filled the air, your lips quirking into a sheepish smile as you glanced up to your boyfriend who wore a confused expression.

"Uhhh, let's not ruin the moment."

next chapter

[circle--of--confusion]

A Breathtaking Affair

Summary:

In an alternate Universe @ficandkaboodle and I have been spitballing, this is a vignette in Reader and Copia's lives. Copia's old nose was a very lovely feeling down there when you two would have sex. Now that it's changed, you miss it. A solution was brought up and you two try it out with unexpected results.

A/N: Thank you for encouraging me to write this, it was so fun. Also, itallian endearments were helpfully provided by @foxybouquet

Paring: Papa Copia x fem!reader

Words: 4.2k

Tags: Explicit! MDNI; Crackfic vibes, established relationship, fluff, smut, hand jobs, oral sex, unconventional sex toys, passing out

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Copia’s face changed when he became Papa. He’s still the handsome man you devote yourself to – and he is devoted to you as well – but there’s something missing from his gentle, wrinkling face. Something that was always a beloved inclusion to the lovely feeling of him going down on you.

When he had plastic surgery to fix the crooked nose he received from an impromptu, clumsy Papa Terzo incident, you mentally mourned the loss of his nosey companion. Terzo was going on and on about how to plan the staging for his next tour when tragedy struck.

“I was thinking of opening with Cirice, eh? Get the crowd going. I’ll dazzle them by showing how wonderful I am.” He gestures outward as if to say you agree, yes? Terzo picks up the small Baphomet statue placed on the table. “Then after I have them in my hands, the next song is Con Clavi Con Dio. BAM! SATAN!”

Terzo lobs the statue forward like a baseball, not realizing his grip wasn’t so secure. It thuds painfully against a grunting Cardinal. Copia.

“Ah shit, Papa!” Copia groans, covering his now bloody nose.

Terzo rolls his eyes. “Stop being such a baby, Fratello. I think I made some improvements.”

Improvements they were not. The following days after the incident, Copia’s nose was swelled up like a balloon. Once it died down, all that was left was a slightly crooked version of his nose from before. You still cooed at him, comforted him after the entire thing and jokingly told him he’ll have to get his revenge when he became Papa.

Copia smirked at you as if he already had something in mind. It was a bit ominous.

Now, as Papa, he decided to get his nose fixed as a “treat yourself” moment in his rise to the Papacy. You supported him in the decision with a small kiss and thought his snoring would probably improve a bit with less bent airways at night while the two of you slept together in his bed. For some reason Sister Imperator tagged along for the ordeal and got a procedure of her own.

After the bandages came off, you had to hide the initial shock of truly how different his nose was. Gone was the adorable, handsome angled protrusion you grew to love. Now he had a regular, slightly curved slope to his nose and the point was more rounded. His jaw was also now more pronounced. It was still your wonderful Copia but it took a minute to adjust every time you saw him the following few days.

Every time he nudged his nose around your face in the mornings, cuddling into you, it was almost as if you felt phantom touches of where the former would’ve grazed as he kisses over your face and further down.

For a couple weeks, any sharp angle had you sighing wistfully. Triangles made you sad. A wedge of cheese at dinner one time nearly made you whimper.

Now, finished with his healing and with a little bit of free time at night from not being on tour, you hatched a plan. You figured there was one way you could get your favorite toy back. Copia caught you grinning to yourself as he came back into his bedroom from the bathroom.

“What has you smiling like that amore mio? It better not be something other than me.” Copia teased, crawling towards you on the bed. He sits back against his pillows and leans over to kiss you. Rising a hand to your cheek, he holds you in place as the two of you press your lips together, sighing contently.

You, feeling bold, nudge forward and manage to get Copia on his back. He raises his eyebrow towards you with a dirty twinkle in his eye. “It was about you, actually.” You smile, leaning over him to lean down and continue kissing for a moment.

“Was it about you doing this? My piccola diavoletta.”

“Something else, actually.”

Copia chuckles. “I see. Buttering me up to ahhhhh.” He looks down to find your hand gently palming his semi-hard dick over his pajama pants. “Piccolo angioletto mio” He breathes, settling further into the mattress to let you continue.

“And if you play your cards right,” you laugh lowly, pressing harder for just a moment. He lets out a few stuttered huffs in response, closing his eyes. “,I’ll give you what you want.”

Copia laughs nervously. “I was wrong. You’re my naughty little angel.”

“Good.” You lean down to press a kiss to his lips. He scrunches up his face from the pleasure you keep at bay for him below. “I’ve noticed something missing when we have sex.”

“What?” He whines, on the brink of falling already.

“Your nose.”

Copia opens his eyes, distracted and confused enough to briefly open his eyes and look at you. “I know what?”

You look taken aback. He can’t be this obtuse, right? Delicately, you lean down and peck over his paintless nose. “Are you following?”

The lights click on in his head and he smirks only to have it fade into an O shape as he closes his eyes from another wave of pleasure. “Yes.” By now you’ve nudged down his bottoms and have his freed erection in your hands, slowly pumping away.

You can’t tell if he’s responding to the thing your hand is doing or if it’s what you’re implying. “Would you be willing to try something new?” More pressure is applied to his pulsing cock in your hand. He’s shaking, babbling, and nodding wordlessly as he moans and writhes under your touch.

“Anything, amore mio. Just please let me come.” Copia grumbles desperately with his eyes scrunched closed.

“I have one question.”

“What?”

“Are you allergic to latex or silicone?” Copia shakes his head. “Perfect.”

You lean down to kiss him, picking up pace with your hand below. A few more final pumps have Copia crying into your mouth in euphoria. His spend runs down your closed fist and parts of his lower stomach. You’re both too focused on each other’s lips to care about the mess right now. You stroke him through the satisfying bliss, stopping when Copia whines in oversensitivity.

Later, after you clean him up, you give him the explanation.

“How do you feel about prosthetics?” You ask as casually as possible.

Copia thinks to himself for a moment, tossing around his forming response in his head before looking over to you below in his arms. “Are you saying you want me to wear a fake nose?”

“I knew you weren’t just a pretty face.” You smile, looking up at him.

Copia scoffs a high-pitched, realizing note. “Is this why you were so sad after my surgery? Was my old nose your favorite sex toy?”

You rise on one arm and rub a hand over his chest in an attempt to placate him with your touch. “It nudged so perfectly at my clit when you were kissing… other places below. Copia, it helped me squirt for the first time.”

He looks at you, then off to the side, then back at your hopeful eyes. “You’re lucky I’m in love with you.”

You smile ear to ear. “So, it’s a yes?”

“Amore mio, with you I’ll try anything once.”

Famous last words.

A few days go by before it’s showtime. There was a local costume shop in town so you took a lovely stroll and stopped by. The options were slim but you managed to find something similar. Thanking the cashier, you carried your experiment and its accompanying items into the ministry as if it were contraband. You hid it in your bag and made your way to Copia’s Papal suite as quickly as you could.

Copia, lounging on the couch, looks up to find you rushing inside with a smile. “Did you get it?” He asks, a bit of apprehension creeping up.

You nod, pointing back and forth. “You. Me. Tonight?” The plastic bag rustles in your hand as you hold it up.

“Tonight.” Copia nods back.

You can barely eat dinner, you’re too excited. Copia on the other hand looks over warily and it’s noticeable. You set down your fork, reaching over with your other hand across the small table to grab his gloved hand.

“You don’t want to do this, do you?”

Copia’s eyes widen in shock. “No! I do! I just…”

“What?” You rub your thumb over the back of his hand.

He shakes his head to himself. “It’s silly.”

“Not if it has you like this.” You urge him to say it.

Copia sighs. “If I don’t do this, will you not like me as much?”

You sit up straight. “Of course not. I still like you the same. I dare say I love you.” Copia smiles softly to himself.

“But my old nose was your favorite thing about me when we had sex.”

You sigh, standing up. Nudging the table away from him, you sit and straddle his lap. He smiles as you place your hands on his shoulders, sliding back to play with the ends of his hair at his neck. “I may have said it was but honestly, I’ve realized that my favorite sex toy is simply… you. All of you. The pointy nose was just a bonus. A nose-us.”

Copia groans, leaning his head back to laugh. You join in and soon his body relaxes. The air in the room feels lighter as the two of you grin lovingly towards each other.

“I think I’m ready now.” Copia looks on, leaning in for a small kiss.

You smile, running your fingers through his hair a few times. He closes his eyes, relaxing into your touch. “Let’s get ready.”

The dinner dishes get cleaned and then the prosthetic supplies are drawn out. The glue, brushes, and liquid latex, and removing solvent are placed onto the table and then the moneymaker comes out.

“It’s modeled after Vincent Price. It’s the only one I could find that looked similar enough.” You smile sheepishly.

Copia wraps an arm around you, tugging you into his hip. He kisses the side of your head. “It’s fine, amore mio. I think it looks very similar, indeed.”

You clean the area around his nose and then get to work prepping the ends of the fake nose. Delicately, the prosthetic is applied over his new nose and you press in the material around the edges. When you feel like the hold is strong enough, you step back.

“Well?” Copia asks, a bit more nasally than intended. The nose had very small air holes.

“Perfect. Though your voice is a bit off.”

He tries to talk and then attempts to sing something but it’s slightly muffled. “It’s a good thing I don’t do stuff like this on stage.”

You both laugh.

Copia walks towards you and then grabs your hand, leading the two of you back to the bedroom. He leans down to kiss you and the point of the nose bumps yours on the way down. He chuckles, “I guess this is going to work, eh?”

You nod, eager now to test it out further. “Let’s see what this bad boy can do.”

You both make quick work to take off your clothes and soon the two of you stand as naked as the day you were born. Copia takes your hand and rises it to place a kiss to your knuckles. “Shall we get to it?”

You nod, leading the way. You’re laid back into the bed, legs bent as your feet rest flat to the covers. They part, resting open, leaving your body on full display for his hungry eyes. You playfully rise a hand, curling a finger, beckoning him forward. He practically floats on autopilot and crawls onto the bed, stalking closer until he’s nestled between your legs. Copia holds himself up as he hovers over you.

“Amore mio…” He sighs, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You stay like this for a moment, simply enjoying the feeling of intimacy. The soft silicone on his nose grazes next to yours and you smile into his mouth. Slowly, he pokes his tongue over to your lips and you gladly open wide for him.

He lowers down into your body slowly and the pressure of him on top has a sigh leave your lips. Your arms wrap around him, holding Copia to you tenderly. There’s a comforting warmth spreading through your body as he begins a path from your mouth downward, dragging the tip of the nose along to fluster you. Copia’s feeling lightheaded and he pulls back to take a deep breath.

“You take my breath away.” He huffs, chest moving quickly up and down.

You tilt your head, grinning. “I think it’s the nose cutting off the airflow.”

Copia chuckles. “Wish me luck down there?”

You look on with concern for a second, reaching out for his hand. “Oh, please don’t push yourself. I’d hate for you to die because you didn’t take a break.”

“And if I die between your thighs? I go doing what I love, cara mia.” He looks at you like a man in love, leaning back in to kiss your lips one last time.

His sweet albeit morbid words put you at ease and you lean back into the pillows. “Well, I’ll just let you continue I guess!”

Copia huffs out a laugh, lowering down to his stomach. He presses a trail of kisses down from your shoulder, between your chest, down the soft expanse of your stomach, stopping right where you both want. He spent a good couple minutes worshiping your breasts, licking and kissing over the soft and sensitive flesh. When his lips took a nipple in to suck, you gasped, feeling the growing wetness below from his attention. Oh, that mouth would make you do anything, you think.

He looks up at you from between your thighs, starving in anticipation. You fidget under him, feeling restless for the first touch of the nose when Copia puts his mouth on your pussy. He looks at you when his head begins to sink down lower, lower, lower until –

“Ohmmmm, Copia.” You moan out, finally feeling the glorious attention of his lips on yours below. Your head falls back into the pillows and one hand slides over to grip into his hair. He hums from a slight tug on his follicles and the vibrations directly into your clit create a fluttering of butterflies in your stomach. Content hums come from you as your hand in his hair encourage him to continue.

Another deep breath from Copia can be heard before he gets back to it. He gives some attention to your clit, licking and sucking just like he did on your nipples. His delicate work builds up and the occasional flutter of your pussy have small whimpers leaving your lips. He smiles, satisfied that you’re already so worked up. Slowly, his tongue leaves the delightful bundle of nerves to explore further down, happily slurping up the arousal you’re making for him, and only him.  

“Oh, Copia,” you moan. “You always know how to make me feel so good. You, ah!” Your thought was cut short but it was because you felt it. The prosthetic nose brushes just slightly across your sensitive clit as Copia licks and kisses your labia. A shudder runs down your spine and it feels heavenly and sinful at the same time. He builds and builds your pleasure on is tongue and without thinking, your hips shift to match the rhythm of his mouth. A wide smile graces your face as your eyes close as you rock your hips against his mouth and nose.

Copia smirks and leans back slightly for another deep breath causing you to whine. “It is everything you hoped it would be?” His voice is husky as he huffs deep breaths.

You can’t think properly, babbling out a string of “yes, yes, yes” for him so he’d keep it up. Copia grabs your thighs, pulling you closer to him and he picks up in enthusiasm. “Fuck, keep doing that, please Copia!” You cry out from the rapid nudging of the silicone over your clit as he licks and drinks from you like a man starved.

“Amore mio.” Copia rumbles in his chest, humping into the mattress to give his aching cock some relief as he brings you over into bliss. He grips firmer into your thighs, picking up pace at the sound of your staccato whimpers. His head is starting to feel funny and his vision goes blurry. Copia closes his eyes and presses on, making sure to angle the nose just right over your clit to have you shaking in his grip.

The sound in the room is beginning to fade for Copia as the cries of your orgasm ring out into the air and flow onto his tongue. He grunts and shudders, feeling a warm, wet sensation spurting out from his cock into the comforter in his satisfaction of making you overcome with pleasure. Spots dot around behind Copia’s eyelids and his heart races as the sound in the room ceases around him.

The last think he heard were your pleasured cries of “Oh, fuck.” as your hand gripped his hair when his consciousness went dark.

You’re too distracted from the ecstasy Copia gave to you with the fake nose and his talented mouth to notice his hips have stilled as well as his mouth. Coming down from the high and trying to settle your racing heartbeat, you look down to an unmoving Copia. You move his head up to find his eyes are closed and when you release his head, it plops back down between you.

Your heart is now racing for a different reason as panic sets in. Survival mode takes over and you jolt from the bed, rushing to find the solvent to remove the nose from him. If need be, you’ll cut it off. You mutter “Shit, shit, shit” through the apartment as you run around like a Papa Terzo with its head cut off.While turning over his body, his chest is still rising a small amount and you can still feel a slight, desperate pulse. You get the nose off quickly and search for your phone, dialing the all-hours clinic.

“Copia, my love. Please be alive. I don’t want my vagina to have a body count.” You whimper into his hair as you brush your fingers through it. You managed to awkwardly pull up some sweats onto his legs after cleaning him up and you yourself have thrown on whatever clothes you can find so the paramedic ghouls don’t walk in on you two naked.

The ghouls take him to the clinic after making sure he was, in fact, still alive but just passed out from the lack of oxygen to his brain. The head nurse on duty sat you down and talked you through it. She’s asked you if he showed symptoms earlier in the day, if he was feeling tired and short of breath. You shook your head and said it was more sudden.

“What were you two doing just before he passed out?” She asked, holding her hand over yours to comfort you.

“Well, uh,” you blush, looking away towards where he sleeps in a bed. “We were doing something new in bed and uh.”

She encourages you to continue. “Yes.”

“He had something over his nose and it might’ve restricted his airflow when he was,” you point with your free hand. “,when he was down there.”

The nurse smiles, chuckling. She pats your hand and then gets up. “He should wake up soon, if that helps at all. His pulse isn’t too weak and you can pull up a chair and sit by him if you want to wait.”

You nod rapidly. Slowly walking over to Copia, you sit down at the side of his bed. Resting your head on his leg, you take his hand and kiss his knuckles softly. You tenderly hold his hand in yours and never let your eyes wander from his face, eager to see the fluttering lashes when he wakes up. The adrenaline from the emergency has left now and your eyelids start to feel heavy. There looks like there could be room for you on the bed and slowly you crawl on top, the metal frame squeaking below from the extra weight.

You cuddle Copia to you and finally close your eyes, holding his hand up to your chest with your hand over it. The night passes and now the beginning rays of sunshine bringing in the next day float through the crack in the curtains. The light brushing of a thumb over your hand had your eye opening to see yours and Copia’s hands switched at some point in the night. Did you do that? You stare down at the intertwined hands before the soft chuckle reaches your ears.

“It was me.” Copia softly teases. “Good morning, cara mia.”

You jerk your head towards him, smiling. “You’re awake!” You softly exclaim.

He removes his hand from yours to gently cup your face in place so he can lean in for a kiss. “I’ve been up for a few hours now, actually.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” You pout.

Copia runs his thumb over your lips and smiles. “I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful, finally resting after what was probably a very scary experience.”

You frown, nuzzling into him. “It was.”

“I’ve always heard about autoerotique asphyxiation but I’m not sure that’s one I’d like to repeat.”

You shift, laying on your side, wrapping an arm around his stomach. “I think I know what the issue was. Part of the instructions said to make the nose holes bigger after you get it on so it can sit flush with your own.”

Copia chuckles. “And you didn’t think to read that!”

“I,” you huff. “I think I was too blinded by excitement and pure lust to think straight.”

“Story of our lives, eh?”

The nurse comes in, a different woman from last night, and you hop down from the bed so they can run some vitals. His left hand is held in both of yours as you sit down in the chair on that side of the bed while they check on him. The nurse deems him back at a normal heart rate and that he’s ready to go back to your shared apartment, warning only to pause any strenuous activity for a couple days. She signs off a discharge note of rest and hydration.

“Rest up, Papa. Take it easy.” She says, bidding you two a goodbye.

You borrow a wheelchair from them and after a stroll through the halls, thankfully free of anyone this early, you two make it back home. He slowly rises from the chair, grunting and making the occasional “ehe” noise as he eventually stands upright.

“I have never felt more like an old man than I do now.” Copia sighs, moving a hesitant foot forward.

“Your energy will return; you just need rest like they said.” You walk over, wrapping your arms around his waist. With your help, he’s able to walk the short trek into the bedroom to lay down on his side of the bed. A couple ghouls have come in and changed the sheets and comforter for clean ones while you two were away. “Need anything?” You ask, brushing his hair with your fingers. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch.

“Just you.” He opens his eyes and his mismatched gaze looks up at you longingly, pleading for you to cuddle with him.

You grin. “One second. Let me go grab some water and snacks for later.”

He’s reluctant to let you go but upon your return, his face lights up. Copia makes grabby hands at you, restless to have you wrapped together once again. You giggle, scolding him without any actual anger for being so impatient.

You sigh, settling together in bed. Copia lies on his back while you rest your chest on his. Your hand rubs soft, soothing circles over his heart. Copia handles the remote to the TV in your room, tapping through the list of movies he’ll put on for background noise. Some time passes and you look up to find his eyes on you first.

“What’cha thinking about?” Copia smiles.

“You were such a champ through all of this, and I just wanted to say thank you.” You move to kiss the bottom of his chin from where you’re positioned. “I think you’ve earned something.”

Copia looks puzzled. “Earned what?”

You shift again to rest on your arm, propped up next to him. You hand on his chest continues to rub small circles, smiling. “The next time we have sex, I’ll call you Papa in bed.”

He makes a sharp humming sound and locks eyes with you, grinning deviously. “Oh, really?” Copia begins to lean over to get you on your back. He seems ready to pounce but in the next second, He’s breathing heavy and his face pales. You can feel his heartbeat picking up under your palm.

Slowly you coax him back down onto his back. “Please, Copia. Follow orders. I don’t want a repeat incident so soon.”

Copia winks up at you and you lean down to kiss him, humming into each other. When you pull back, his face has returned to its usual color, now with a faint blush. “As I said, amore mio. You take my breath away.”

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it Translations: My piccola diavoletta [little devil] Piccolo angioletto mio [my little angel]

All credits to FicAndKaboodle for the cheese wedge line and the "nose-us" pun. it was too hilarious not to put in there.

[small-sinclair]

Rings and Keeps

@fluffy-little-demon and @sketchy-rosewitch, I give you, your husband—

Bo Sinclair x reader

“Are you sure you haven’t seen him in the shop?”

“Sorry, y/n,” Lester said over the phone. “Haven’t seen Bo all day. Promise.”

You sighed tiredly and said, “Okay, Les. Call back if you hear from him.” You hung up and looked nervously at the front door again. It’s not like your fiancé to up and leave Ambrose without telling anyone, let alone, not tell you. So, why’d he left? What made him up and leave?

Is he getting milk and cigarettes like my dad did? You thought jokingly to yourself, but that didn’t help you at all.

Still, dinner had to be finished and put away. You didn’t want to eat without him, and you felt too nervous with him gone. So, you started pacing to keep your mind off things. Back and forth in the house you tried to keep your thoughts on something else. Baseball. Football. Weather. Vincent. Lester and his raccoon army (don’t tell the twins). Bo’s ass— but noting. You flopped down on the couch and hugged a throw pillow as you looked at the door.

Maybe he doesn’t love me? Maybe he up and left to figure out the best way to kill me?

“No, don’t think about that,” you told yourself in a whisper. “Bo’s fine. He might be getting something.”

When 10:30 struck on the clock, Bo’s truck lights lit up the front of the living room, but you were already asleep, cuddling Bo’s sweatshirt, when he walked in the house. He bit his lower lip nervously as his eyes found you sleeping on the sofa. Quietly, he took off his jacket and hung his hat next to a picture him and you, where he’s hugging you from behind and your laughing in the summer’s glow. Vincent took this gem and had it framed next to his hook on purpose, but Bo’s not one for complaining. It just reminds him what his aching arms are for when he comes home to you, to his beloved.

He kneels in front of you and kisses you gently to wake you up. “Sweetheart,” he drawled tiredly. “‘M home.”

He watched your sleepy eyes flutter open as he thumbed your cheek. “Bo? Where have you been?” Your voice is so soft and tired it reminds him of a kitten.

“Was gettin’ somethin’,” he hummed.

“What?”

“Gimme your right hand.”

You do as your told and showed him your hand. He digs into his pocket and pulls out a little black box. Your eyes brighten as he slipped on a simple silver ring with a small white diamond in the center. “It ain’t much,” he started, “but I thought ya need somethin’ better than ‘at paper ring.”

“Bo,” you sigh, getting a better look at it. “You didn’t—“

“Hush,” he said. “I wanna do something right for ya. So, I, well…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I sold the ‘86 Dodge.”

“But,” you sat up and held his cheeks. He rested into your touch and closed his eyes. “But that’s your baby!”

He shrugs. “I know, y/n, I know, but,” he kissed your palm, “I wanna to do something good for you. Somethin’ right.” He leaned back and took your hands. “I wanna to give ya somethin’ better than Mama’s ring. Shit,” he eyes shines as he looks up to meet your eyes, “when I saw ya looking at that ring the other day, I knew I had to get it for ya because…” his voice trails as his head fell. “I’m afraid to lose you. I have so much blood on my hands, so how? How can you even stand me? Let alone, love me?” You’ve never heard him talk like this before, and this side of trust was so valuable that you felt like he was glass waiting to shatter. “Just wanted to do something right for once.”

Your shoulders fell, and you pulled Bo into your chest, rubbing his back. “That’s why you’ve been nervous lately,” you sighed. “Beauregard, I love you no matter how bloody your hands get.” You curled your fingers through his hair. “And I love this ring because you got it for me.” You lifted his head and kisses his lips. “You never have to worry about me not loving you. I’ll always love you.”

Bo smiles and lays a kiss on your neck. “Even if I lose control?”

“Even if you lose control,” you reassured. Then your face turned serious. “But, promise me one thing?”

“Anything, y/n.”

You looked at him dead in the eye and said, “Don’t sell the T-Bird? I love that car.”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Promise, darlin’. I’m keeping that like I’m keeping you.” He placed a passionate kiss on your lips, rocking into you. “Now, on t’bed, sugar,” his voice rumbled like thunder in his chest, “been missing you all day.” He pulls you up and carries you bridal style. “Lemme make up for leavin��� ya alone like that.”

[as-is-above-so-below]

i would physically break my bones if you wrote a little thing about simon waking up with joanie in the night 🥹

Thunder

I take your Simon waking up with Joanie, and raise you Mama Freyja waking up with her :D (p.s. Simon holds his babies like this, and you can't tell me otherwise) << Previous | Next >>

Freyja flinched at the sharp cry as the monitor on her nightstand crackled to life following a loud boom of thunder. She stayed still momentarily, waiting to see if Joan would lull herself back to sleep as she patted Arthur’s back.

After a brief break, assumingly where Joanie allowed herself to take a breath, the wailing presumed.

Simon’s hand trailed up her thigh, his thumb dragging across her hip. He was awake, as always during nighttime feedings, but had been laying down while she fed and burped their son. “Do you want me to get her?” he asked, leaning into her shoulder and nuzzling her neck now that he had pushed himself up.

She smiled softly at the gentle kisses against her throat, pressing into them. “No, I’ll handle it. Take Artie?”

“I’ll finish with ‘im downstairs.” Simon shifted Art from her lap, laying the baby, stomach down, across his forearm with his head up toward his elbow. His feet landed on either side of his big hand, engulfing one of his chunky little thighs. “Alright, pup, time for a little father-son bonding,” he whispered, and his footsteps disappeared out of the room and down to the kitchen.

Freyja followed shortly after, her slippers scuffing as she barely picked up her tired feet. Joanie’s nursery was right next to theirs, making the walk short. When the door creaked open at her presence, the toddler’s sobbing softened but continued as she reached over the wall of her crib, little fingers making grabby hands in Frey’s direction.

“Mumma!”

“Hi baby,” she whispered, smiling softly as she approached the bed. “What happened? Did the thunder wake you up?”

She carefully drew her fingers through the baby’s delicate curls, taking care to detangle any knots she found. Frey had noticed that her once tight ringlets were losing their body, and starting to melt into loose waves. She had a sneaking suspicion that their daughter’s hair would eventually forgo all of its texture and end up pin-straight. At least then, it would be more manageable.

Joan jerked her head away with a whine, pouty lip jutting out as she bounced with her knees. The frustrated display and the look on her chubby little face would’ve been funny if Freyja weren’t so tired. She pointed outside of her bed, “Gaz frug.”

Gazzy was Joan’s beloved stuffed frog, clad with a baseball cap with a Union Jack patch on the front. One could take a wild guess at who Gazzy the frog came from. And there he was, just next to Freyja’s feet. She bent down with a soft hum, plucking her lovie off the floor. “You kicked Gazzy out! What happened?” she asked, bopping the toddler with it. 

Even with her friend returned, Joanie pouted again and held her arms up, making grabby fingers with her free hand. “Up, Mumma,” she whimpered, her big brown eyes pleading.

Not very eager to deny a request at three o’clock in the morning, Freyja grabbed her soft felt blanket (courtesy of Mrs. MacTavish) from the bottom of her crib and draped it around her daughter. Joan automatically wrapped her arms around her mum’s neck as she lifted the baby to her chest, one arm under her and the other hand guiding her head to her shoulder.

Her hair still smelt like her baby shampoo from her bedtime bath. Frey inhaled the scent, placing gentle kisses against her baby’s temple at the same time. Neither she nor Simon had a tendency to get annoyed with their babies waking up throughout the night. Freyja was thrilled every instance she was able to comfort her children. She always told herself that every time Joan or Artie cried for them was a reminder of how loved and needed they were.

And if that meant getting up at three o’clock in the morning just to hold her daughter, then so be it.

“I love you, baby.”

“I lub you, Mumma.”

Copyright © 2023 as-is-above-so-below. All rights reserved.

[icecreamandpizzawrites]

Snippets - Baseball

"Alright, everyone! Get those lips ready because it's time for the Kiss Cam!"

As the cartoony music started to play, Misty groaned, rolling her eyes. She despised the idea of the Kiss Cam. It was just a stupid ploy to embarrass people and to get a rise out of the crowd. Thankfully, she was safe. Ash had gone with Brock to get some snacks during the break, so it was just her and Casey occupying the row of seats.

"This is stupid," Casey whined. "They're going to screw with the Electabuzz's momentum! It's the bottom of the sixth, and they're up to bat! They don't need these distractions."

Misty was fairly confident that Casey's beloved baseball team would be fine. They were down by six runs and hadn't been hitting well with three consecutive strikeouts the previous inning.

"What'd I miss?" Misty turned to see Ash slipping back into his seat, a giant tub of popcorn in his hands.

"Nothing," Misty replied, snatching a handful of popcorn from Ash's tub. "Where's Brock?"

"Hey! That's mine!" he protested. "If you wanted some, you should have gotten your own!"

"Guys! Look, you're on the screen!"

Misty whipped her head around to stare at the jumbotron, her face paling. Damn it! Her worst nightmare was unfolding in front of her. Like a crazed animal, she wildly threw her hands up into an X, shaking her head vehemently. Finally realizing what was going on, Ash's face turned red, and he slumped down in his seat, covering his face with his hat in an attempt to hide. Around them, the crowd booed, but the camera moved on to another unsuspecting couple.

Misty sighed in relief, having nearly avoided a public catastrophe. Mimicking Ash's posture, she slouched down in her seat, trying to make herself appear invisible.

"Misty," she heard Ash whisper beside her, but it sounded more like a groan. "It's back…"

Misty looked up to see that, sure enough, the Kiss Cam was displaying their faces. Again, Misty shook her head while Ash buried himself in popcorn until the camera moved on. The protests from the crowd around them grew in volume and exuberance.

"You guys are funny," Casey remarked.

"I'm glad our pain is amusing you," Misty sneered.

Chanting voices echoed around her as the slightly inebriated crowd began yelling once more. "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

"For the love of god," Misty gritted through her teeth. Ash turned to look at her, helpless.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Misty grabbed Ash's shirt collar and yanked him forward, smashing her lips against his. The crowd around them erupted into cheers that rivaled those from the home team's home run. Ash's body went rigid underneath her, his popcorn falling onto the stadium floor, and the stadium around her faded away. As she was about to pull away, Ash's body relaxed, and he leaned into the kiss.

From a box on the opposite side of the stadium, Brock watched his plan succeed, a satisfied smile on his face. Turning away from the camera, he reached into his wallet and pulled out a $50 bill. "Thank you, my good sir!"

[zeninsama]

silas i am bringing u a present.... would u mind feeding us some self indulgent naoya hcs? or perhaps some of ur toji hcs ? many hugs <3

m me me when. me when. me when my . my husband. breasts boobily. mme when.

HGKDJFSK RUST THIS MADE MY WHOLE DAY! ☹️ LIKE THAT IS REALLY US! THAT IS REALLY ME AND YOU MADE THIS FOR ME I WANT TO SHAKE YOU BY THE SHOULDERS SO HARD RN. OUT OF LOVE OBVIOUSLY!!!!!!!

as for the naoya and toji headcanons... under da cut...

naoya has an eyebrow piercing and perhaps a lip piercing. just your standard eyebrow (it would be hot as a ring though, super 90's) and then spiderbites, but studs instead of rings. underneath his clothes, he's hiding a bellybutton piercing and a prince albert. not sorry, the image is hot.

naoya learns to knit so he can make little sweaters for his beloved chikin-san.

naoya doesn't drink often, it makes him feel weird because his dad has been a heavy drinker his whole life. when he does drink, it's usually something mild like beer, or sake during celebrations. when we're off the estate, he treats himself to one nice cocktail.

this goes for zen'in men in general but toji specifically is a big ole hairy guy in my head. hairy arms, hairy chest, hairy tummy, hairy ass, thick bush, etc. this isn't even unrealistic, look at his brother jinichi.

toji loves baseball and only drinks domestic japanese beers.

[sunflwryu]

warning: yandere, murder |  requested by: anon

perfect

“w-what? baby, what is this...?” niki’s head snaps towards the direction of the familiar voice, only to see you, his beloved, standing there at the bottom of the stairs to the basement with wide eyes and a mortified expression.

fuck! he doesn’t know what to say to explain the situation. what, should he say that he kidnapped and beat the shit out of your ex because you ranted to him about them last night about how they led you on and broke up with you and dated someone new immediately? there’s no way you’d be okay with something like this, even if he did it to take revenge on them for hurting you.

“i-i-i...” he stammers.

your terrified gaze falls to the bruised body on the floor, registering the sheer amount of crimson red pooling around them to the metal baseball bat in his hands. “...you killed them?”

he drops the bloodied weapon on the floor at the horror in your voice. doom weighs on his shoulders as he dreads what comes next. he can’t lie to you, especially when you’ve caught him in the act, and because of the truth, you’ll definitely leave him. you will, won’t you? he closes his eyes for a moment, remembering all the good memories you had together, how much he loved you and dedicated himself to you, how much he loved hugging you and holding you close, how much he loved taking you out on dates, how much he loved how you folded into his side as you stuck to him like glue.

he opens his eyes, clenching his fists, preparing for the worst and taking in your beauty for what probably will be the last time. “i-i did this because i love you...” he blurts out, nervously waiting for your inevitable rejection.

that’s the truth, and that’s the only thing he can say right now. he swallows hard, knowing you’ll probably just scream, run away, and report him to the police for this, knowing that you could just ruin his life if you wanted because he’d never raise a hand against you even if it was to stop you, but he still hopelessly hopes that you’d notice his sincerity, that you’d stay and love him back.

but you don’t run away like he expects. instead, you’re still standing there. there’s no hint of fear in your demeanor, only acceptance.

“y-you’re not scared of me...?” he asks hesitantly, not knowing if that act is real or just some strange response because you’re scared of him. he’s afraid to know the answer to that question.

you walk over to him, reaching up to caress his cheek, smudging the red splatters on his skin, the gentlest of smiles on your face as if you hadn’t just witnessed him standing over your dead ex with a bat, as if you hadn’t just stepped over a bloodied corpse, as if you just happened upon something completely normal. there’s a familiar glint in your eyes as you stare into his, and then you press your lips to his before throwing your arms round his neck.

“why would i be? i’m so lucky to have you. you’re one in a billion to me, darling.”

he blinks once, twice in disbelief. “r-really?”

you jump up and down eagerly, your tone extremely enthusiastic. "i’ve always dreamed of someone proving their love by killing for me! don’t you think that’s so romantic?” you sigh dreamily in satisfaction. “that’s the biggest form of love, wouldn’t you think so?”

huh...?

“and you did this because i told you about how cruel they were to me, right? and you did the same to all my exes, right?” you barrage him with questions, and he gives a slow nod to all of them, still processing what you’ve said. “you’re absolutely my dream, baby! you love me so much to even commit murder for me, to even risk being taken away from me just to avenge me and my pain!” you peck him on the lips again excitedly, pulling away with a sick grin. “i love you even more now!”

niki’s ecstatic from hearing this side of you he’s never known, this abnormal dream of yours he’s somehow embodied. you actually accept him! you actually love him even after knowing all he did, all his twistedness. he beams at you proudly, showing how happy he is at your words, how happy he is that you’re staying, that those memories won’t have to disappear, that they’ll be new, better ones to be made.

you brush a lock of hair away from his face before gesturing towards the body still on the basement floor. “we should clean up and dispose of that thing quickly. wouldn’t want my darling to get caught, hm? i’d be devastated if someone as wonderful and romantic and loving as you were taken away from me because of it, you know.” you click your tongue as you make your way over to the mop and bucket, dragging it across the floor to clean up the blood nonchalantly, humming a lighthearted tune.

and that's when he knew...it wasn't a dream when he saw you at the sink yesterday morning at the crack of dawn, grinning almost too widely as you washed a knife. he sighs happily in relief, reaching for a garbage bag to stash the body in.

aren't you two just perfect for each other?

anon said: Hellooo good day. May i request a yandere riki where y/n found out about his yandere behavior so riki thought that y/n is going to leave him but y/n didn't because of the power of love(lol jk) i just thought it'll be a cute scenario lol

note: thanks for requesting, anon! i hope you like this one! i already have a disclaimer on my pinned post, but i just wanted to reiterate here: i don’t condone this behavior nor should you! it’s not romantic y’all, okay? this is just fiction and purely for entertainment. mc is really twisted in this one so oops (thought: they had so many exes cuz they were looking for someone like niki), sorry that it’s not so cute. anyway thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed this fic!! it was different from my other ones so i had fun writing it. <- my original note lol but this is also part of my publishing-drafts spree.

enhypen masterlist  |  main masterlist  |  by @sunflwryu

[taehyungday]

𝗦𝗔𝗦𝗔𝗘𝗡𝗚 - 𝚖.𝚢𝚐.

𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀…𝗒𝗈𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗂 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾…𝗒𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗎

𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍…998

I'm still not sure how I ended up here, but I was tethered to a chair in a basement of a building. My lips was also taped, so I couldn't shout for help. I just remember walking back to my apartment after a successful concert a few hours ago when I suddenly felt a great deal of pain in my head region. I turned around to find a masked man with a baseball bat smeared with blood, most likely my blood. I awoke here after that. My head was still aching, therefore I got a headache. I could only hope that my fellow members of my group would come here to look for me. But I knew they didn't call me often because our group didn't have a strong bond. And since this was our final show of the tour, and our record label granted us a two-month vacation thereafter, the chances of my members or managers looking for me were little to none.

Then I heard a pair of footsteps approaching. The cellar door was suddenly opened, showing a really gorgeous man with a poker face staring at me. There were also some other men with him who appeared to be his bodyguards. The man with the poker face approached me and pulled the tape from my mouth.

"I'd been looking forward to this moment for a long time." He stated.

I had no idea what he was talking about, so I began pleading with him to help me escape out of this cellar.

"Please, sir, I have no idea who you are, but don't harm me. Please let me go because I have done nothing wrong. Sir, I beg you."

"Unless you disobey my commands, I will not harm you." You'll be living in the basement until you figure out what your role is in the house. I intend to move you from this basement to my room as soon as you start behaving good. You must sign these papers until then." He remarked this as he threw some papers at me.

"Can you tell me what these documents are about?" I stated.

"Sweetheart, don't ask questions; just do what I say or you'll finish up with a bullet in your skull." He remarked this as he drew his weapon. I was terrified.

"Untie her from the chair, Jason, and provide her a pen." He told his men.

I've never been a big fan of music. Despite the fact that I had a girlfriend who was a member of a Kpop group. Because I was in a mafia gang, I told her to keep our relationship a secret. She didn't even tell her group mates about our affair. She asked me to one of her concerts after that. I opted to go because I didn't have any plans or task. I'm not sure what occurred to me after seeing her. She was simply hypnotic. The way she sang, danced, and laughed was fascinating. I couldn't understand it, but when she walked, everything began to look prettier. Because of her, my cold, dead heart began to beat again. That night, I returned home while just thinking about her, and I slept while her lovely voice echoed in my mind.

I began stalking her from that point on. I began collecting her photographs and glueing them to the wall. I created a room particularly for her, complete with her photographs and artwork. I purchased everything that featured her in a commercial. I even purchased some makeup accessories because she was selling it. My girlfriend began to notice that I was ignoring her. One day she arrived at my mansion and discovered Y/n's room, she was astonished and immediately began wrecking the place. I tried to stop her, but she was deafeningly deafeningly deafeningly deafen After she started spewing nonsense about y/n, my mind became agitated. HOW DARE SHE. That's when I grabbed a nearby wire. Then I strangled her as a result of it.

I alerted the police about her death after she died, and I urged them to cover it up by claiming she had committed suicide. The cops didn't question me because I had power over them.

When the world learned that their beloved idol had committed suicide, they were devastated. They began to lament her death. My darling Y/n was inconsolably wailing. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and comfort her, but I knew it wasn't the proper time.

I couldn't wait any longer after a few months. I couldn't figure out how to love her. But, my God, how much I loved her.

I told my men to kidnap her after a few weeks. That guy, on the other hand, hurt her by striking her in the head. That jerk deserves to perish slowly and painfully. I approached my Y/n after killing him, and just by glancing at her, I could tell she was terrified. What a beautiful young lady she was. I forced her to sign papers transferring her entertainment label to me. Because the ceo was afraid of a mafia, he didn't ask me any more questions regarding the paperwork or the weather-about y/n.

Despite the fact that the fanbase and group members were perplexed as to why y/n departed the group. But I was too engrossed in my alone time with y/n to notice that.

She was a thorn in my side at first, refusing to obey my orders. I began giving her less food and left her completely alone. I didn't even pay her a visit since I wanted to make her feel lonely so she would develop Stockholm syndrome and cherish my company. And that's exactly what occurred; she was pleased to see me. She began pleading with me not to leave. That's how my Y/n figured out her place in the family and began to love me.

[mammameesh]

12 days of fandom

Merry Christmas (Eve) my friends! I've been very busy, but I still wanted to participate so enjoy my 12 days of Christmas all at once!

In No Particular order:

Noble Beloved by AWorldOfDreams @a-noble-dragon

from the author : Schitt's Creek has a secret. And it's a rather large one. David's not at all pleased that this secret involves him, becoming a Dragon Liaison Officer. Because Dragons don't exist... right?

2.

Marcy's Girls by Turkey_Virgin @tyfinn

from the author: Marcy is left alone with Alexis and Stevie after David has to pick Patrick up from a vendor run. Alexis and Stevie both turn to Marcy for relationship advice, and Marcy finds herself to be a substitute mother to the girls.

3.

Marcy's Innocent Questions by Characterassassination @characterassassination-at-9am

from the author:

A series of chapters wherein Marcy Brewer, mom extraordinaire, is a little naïve about Patrick and David's relationship, and maybe gay relationships in general? "Queer things" in general? Not sure where this one's going to go, but I love Marcy and I love embarrassing her and Patrick a just a touch....so we'll see. I just thought it'd be a fun idea to explore.

4.

Apricity by Demora00 @demora00

from the author: “‘ – advised by the Council that in a bid for reconciliation, any members who cannot prove significant and meaningful attachments in North America within 60 days are to return to their originating nation.’"

5.

Conversion (Part One) by Obsessedwithdavrick @obsessedwithdavrick

from the author:

Patrick Brewer had grown up within the confines of the Catholic church.

He was baptised in the nave of the St Celeste church, received his first holy communion in tandem with his cousins and attended the small primary school adjacent to it until he was old enough for high school. He then joined his cousins and the other children of the town, travelling thirty minutes by bus to Ingleside to attend the Catholic high school, where the cohorts were split by gender.

When he wins a coveted Baseball Scholarship to play and study at the University of Toronto, he is matched with an enigmatic roommate, David Rose. David upends Patrick's life (in the best possible way) and takes him on a journey of self-discovery he hadn't realised he desperately needed.

6.

Everything's Too Cold... But You're So Hot by ApothecaRose @apothecarose

from the author:

When David's ex, Sebastien Raine, unexpectedly shows up in Schitt's Creek, David enlists the help of a stranger on the street to pretend to be his boyfriend in an attempt to get rid of Sebastien.

7.

102 Words by RamonaFlow @ramonaflow

from the author: This is a collection of 102 ficlets consisting of 102 words each using this prompt list

8.

[Art] Painted Pride by lizzie_bennetdarcy @lizzie-bennetdarcy

from the author:

David and Patrick paint themselves for Pride

9.

dinner by flowertrigger @flowertrigger

from the author:

Patrick’s parted lips are as shiny as the glazed ham Marcy pulled from the oven twenty minutes ago and looking just as delicious.

10.

Won’t Love Anyone Else Like I Love You by LikeItsAllInfinite @like-its-all-infinite

from the author:

David Rose is about to turn eighteen and his whole world is going to change when he swaps bodies with his soulmate. Patrick is here to help, but what will David do when he wakes up and Patrick isn't his soulmate? And how will he tell his soulmate he can only ever love Patrick?

11.

Hydrate. Caffeinate. Medicate. Repeat. by coffee_and_glitter @fictasticvoyage

from the author:

Patrick starts meditation to help with his mental health. He and David try a 30 day challenge to focus on their mental well-being, sometimes individually, sometimes together.

12.

It's Photoshop. by jesuisici33 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)  @jesuisici33

from the author:

TK meets a friend who also likes bearded dragons. And Carlos' secret comes out.

[fanaticsnail]

Mihawk kissing Governess' hand and her allowing herself a slip in her exterior armour to kiss his cheek and his reaction, oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god

"Reaching upwards, you placed your left hand on Mihawk’s cheek and shepherded him into yourself, placing your lips gently against his left cheek as you cradled him against your palm. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and froze his shoulders in place." <- tattooing this passage on my brain, thanks

I'm sorry but this whole passage had me giggling and flinging myself about in bed as I read it like a school girl, and it is so funny to me that they did All That in front of an audience of not only four powerful men but also a soiree of guests. It's like when you see regency era period pieces of a couple breathing heavily with barely contained lust after one dance bc they're Repressed Virgins, and remembering that there is a whole ballroom of other people there.

"He doesn't love you." <- NO! BAD! (spritz with water). My immediate thoughts is Sapsorrow or some other force is interfering.

"“I just thought I saw-...” Perona began, cocking her head sharply to the side and holding firm her gaze, “Something watching.”" <- screaming and wildly swinging a baseball bat. I'm so emotionally attached to these characters and invested in this story that I know that there's no way it ends on so soon all happy so there's got to still be conflict before the wedding in order for a resolution and I'm excited but at the same time I Refuse.

“The symbolism behind it is you, yourself, are the sun. The gold is what encases you beneath it," <- well goddamnit snail that is poetry.

The description of Beckman and Governess' relationship!!!! I love them so much!!! "He treated you with the utmost respect and found himself hanging onto your every command as a loyal knight taking instructions from his queen. From then on, you were the friend he confided in and trusted to handle the troop easily when ushering you throughout the seas on the red-force. Of all aboard, you trusted Beckman the most to treat you well." AAAAAAAAAA

“It won’t be enough. It will never be enough.” BACK! BACK I SAY

“You watched as he began to scramble, at first attempting to askew the floral arrangement behind his back from view before holding it at heart-level.

“Lost-Lady,” his voice called to you, disguising what you thought to be a small stumble in his footing as he began to clamber towards you from his prior position gardening. His boots met with the sludge, sliding the earth from beneath his footstep and successfully dropping him down to his knees. You sucked your lips into your mouth, witnessing a man full of dignity and grace be brought down to his knees while cradling flowers against his chest." Oh my gawd. She's literally making him fumble over himself. Just the thought of such a serious figure doing all this to strip himself of his dignity just for his beloveds comfort so that she might have a confidant in a new place where she is alone and so that he might be able to partake in her unadulterated company, and the idea that he loses all his composure around her and fumbles, is so sweet. The way you write it manages to work with his personality and not feel out of character, and it's so romantic I Love it.

"I am uninjured, my darling," MY DARLING??? What happened to keeping up the facade, Governess?

"“I believe the world of your abilities, sir. Now, allow me to aid in your rise to your feet once more,” you smiled down at him, his eyes meeting your own with an almost overwhelming amount of adoration. You hoisted him up to his feet, uncaring at the passing of grime onto your clothes from his." Governess stand up, get off your knees, put away the ring, you're already engaged to him!! My girl is swooning

I do love how the Governess recognized the voice as being external and even noticed it having a physical presence, and not letting it overtake her by assessing her thoughts rationally. It shows her strength and smarts in being beyond just a Damsel In Distress but still believably in distress if that makes sense? It kind of makes me excited that now that she actually knows she wants the marriage and future with Mihawk I feel like she'll be beyond angry when she finds out something/someone has been trying to take it from her, and I really can't wait.

"He yearned for this deceit to flee from his form. No longer desiring to adorn this shield and to be the man beneath this amassment of muck for you; he wanted so desperately to cast aside titles and just truly be yours." A man that loves his wife! What a lovely gift for me! Chewing on him as we speak <3

"“Step away from my governess, Hag!” Her voice held several tones within the single vocal strand, the air sucked from its delight of the morning rays." I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!

"Zoro immediately was drawn to his feet, unsheathing his sword from beside him and brandishing it with flourish. Mihawk also rose to his feet, nodding to Zoro briefly, before he closed and reopened his amber eyes; now a ruby iris surrounding its glow. Zoro did the same, his iris crackling under the new color within his orbs." Get her! Go boys! Sick 'em!

Fr loving the protectiveness of the Governess' new family

"“How long has she been here, Mihawk?” Perona asked at your other side, her eyes fixed on a pinned point in the roof and remaining unblinking, “She seemed so sad.”" (visibly vibrating) I Am Being So Completely Normal About This Lore.

I love Perona so much, I (and the Governess) am so proud of her, she was brave, and kind and observant enough to notice when things were going wrong with someone she cared about, and she stood up for her friend, she's obviously always been an awesome person but I feel like her time with the Governess has allowed her to direct herself more and therefore do more and it's really cool to see the good influence on her daughter ward.

“What was it you told the clown? We are more than the titles that make us?” hhhhhhhh he values her thoughts so much he memories all her words and conversations even those that don't involve him

“I had always thought of you as a woman who commanded every space she found herself within. Even as a man far more advanced in his years,” he continued, reopening his eyes to look lovingly into your face, “I had always seen you as a woman who could have the mighty fall to their knees- much as you had me do this morning.” <- if anyone needs me I'll be drowning in a river

Forehead touches forehead touches foreheadtouchesforeheadtouches

“If you so desire for your Farm-Hand to bring his Lost-Lady your daily gift of flowers, I will gladly become him once more for you. However,” Mihawk drew his eyes back to yours, an almost playfulness dancing behind his honeyed gaze, “I expect my Lost-Lady to be in naught but her nightdress in return.” AAAAAAAAAAA (pt. II)

The EPILOGUE!!!! the teaser/reference for Shanks' Sapsorrow ring, the hinting to the law!!! You truly know how to feed us

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? To see others have what was taken from you? To see them happy and thriving with each other?” AAAAAAAAA (pt. III)

SNAIL!! BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE CHAPTER 6 REVIEW!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I'm so glad you freak out about this story as much as I do. Makes it feel more alive to know how it moves you. Thank you for taking the time to go through it bit by bit to notice the little bits I add for Mihawk's humanity and adoration for him and his governess.

Openly flirting with his bride in front of Perona and Zoro, without them saying anything about it, was one of my favourite parts. He loves her so much, finally admitting it both to himself and to her without saying the three little words we want him so desperately to say.

I have drafted their vows and began working on chapter 7 to be out soon!

"If anyone needs me I'll be drowning in a river" <- I would not say such things if I were you. Our little ghost has some fight yet remaining.

[keekee-23]

Sexy Bet

A Damian Priest x Original Character story

Warning: Smut

Hope y'all like it 😬

Damian and Ayesha chose to go on a date at a baseball game. For Ayesha, it was the chance to cheer on her beloved Philadelphia Phillies. For Damian, it was an opportunity to support his favorite team, the New York Yankees.

As they exited their car, a mild breeze rustled through the trees around them, carrying away their laughter. The sky was bright and clear – perfect for taking in a game of ball. Hotdogs and beer wafted into their noses, enticing them.

"I can't believe you'd be so bold," Ayesha said, looping her arm through Damian's as they started walking towards the Citizens Bank Park.

"What can I say? I'm a Yankees fan. I'm not afraid to put my money where my mouth is," Damian said with a mischievous smile.

"We'll see who's putting their money where their mouth is when this is all over," Ayesha said, rolling her eyes. She was wearing a Phillies jersey and a pair of jeans, with a baseball cap that proclaimed her allegiance to the team. On the other hand, Damian was wearing his Yankees hat, Yankees Jersey, and a pair of jeans.

Damian laughed. "I'm sure we'll both be happy with the outcome," he said.

"Well, I know that I'm rooting for the Phillies," Ayesha said. "And I'm sure you are rooting for the Yankees."

Damian nodded. "Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way."

Ayesha squeezed his arm. "Well, come on then. Let's get to the game."

They walked into the stadium, Damian, and Ayesha both cheering for their respective teams. The energy was electric, the entire crowd on their feet as the first pitch was thrown. Damian and Ayesha kept up a friendly banter with each other, pointing out players and plays while keeping their focus on the game.

As the game went on, the Phillies started to pull ahead, and Damian started to get worried. He glanced over at Ayesha, who was grinning as the Phillies scored a run. He couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm.

As the final inning began, the score was tied. Damian and Ayesha both knew that the game would be decided by a single play. Damian leaned over and whispered in Ayesha's ear.

“Let's make a bet. If my Yankees win, you have to do something special for me.”

“And what would that be?” Ayesha asked, raising an eyebrow.

Damian shrugged. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”

Ayesha smiled and shook her head. “You’re on,” she said, extending her hand.

Damian shook her hand and grinned. “It’s a deal.”

Ayesha couldn't help but laugh. She nodded her head, and they turned their attention back to the game.

The crowd was on its feet, their eyes glued to the game. The stakes were high, and everyone was on the edge of their seats. Damian and Ayesha both held their breath as the final out was called.

The Yankees won!

Ayesha groaned as she sank into her seat, and Damian couldn’t help but smirk. He leaned in close to her, his voice low and playful.

“It looks like I won the bet,” he said.

Ayesha shot him with a wry look. “You certainly did,” she said. “But don’t think you’ve won just yet.”

Damian chuckled as he stood and offered her his hand. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go home. I want to collect my winnings.”

Ayesha took his hand and allowed herself to be pulled up. As they made their way out of the stadium, she couldn’t help but feel a flutter of anticipation. What exactly did Damian have planned?

The couple made their way back to Ayesha’s house, and as soon as the door closed behind them, Damian pulled her close. His eyes were dark with desire, and Ayesha felt her body responding to his closeness.

“So,” he said softly. “About my winnings.”

Ayesha stepped back and feigned a stern look. “Yes, what was it exactly that you wanted?”

Damian smiled and stepped closer, so that his lips were just barely brushing against hers.

“I want you to dress up in sexy Yankees lingerie,” he said softly. “And then…well, then I’ll take it from there.”

Ayesha couldn’t help but blush as anticipation flooded her body. She stepped away from him and grinned.

“All right,” she said. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

She went to her bedroom and began to search for the perfect lingerie. She grabbed a lace bra and panties, all in the classic Yankees blue and white colors.

She quickly changed, enjoying the feeling of the silky lingerie against her skin. When she was finished, she posed for a moment in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection.

Damian couldn't contain his excitement. He walked up behind her, admiring her curves in the lingerie, and enveloped her in a passionate kiss. Then, without a word, he swept her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom.

He laid her down on the bed and slowly started to undress her. Ayesha felt her arousal building, but she was enjoying the foreplay too much to stop him as he tugged at the straps of her corset bra and gently lifted it over her head. Damian slipped the straps of her panties down off her legs, and they slid around beside them on the bed. Cool air flowed across her naked skin as Damian rubbed his palms over her soft curves and kissed the nape of her neck. Her breath quickened as excitement surged through her veins and pooled between her legs as she imagined what would happen next. His fingers brushed against one nipple, sending chills through Ayesha's body; then he cupped both breasts in his hands and stared deep into her eyes as he began to roll each nipple between two fingers until it puckered up into a tight pink bud.

Damian leaned forward and devoured them with his mouth, ravishing her right breast with his tongue as he kneaded the left one with his hand. His expert touch sent waves of desire rippling through her body until she was shuddering in pleasure beneath him. He tasted every inch of her body, exploring her sensitive curves and making her gasp and moan in anticipation.

Finally, Damian reached between her trembling legs and unleashed a tornado of pleasure with his flattened tongue swirling around her hard nub; each flick more tantalizing than the last, until she screamed out his name in ecstatic bliss.

They changed positions and now Ayesha was on top of Damian, eager to bring him the same pleasure that he had given her.

Ayesha was kissing on Damian’s neck and licking his chest, and he felt his arousal surge. She moved down his body, exploring every inch of him with her soft lips until she finally reached his hardened penis. She took it into her warm mouth and Damian gasped with pleasure.

Damian couldn’t believe that this amazing woman, the love of his life, was giving him such pleasure, with his throbbing erection sliding between her gently suckling lips. His hands stopped roaming on her body long enough to fist a handful of her dark hair.

He gently pulled her head off of himself and pulled her up towards him for a deep kiss. While on top, she hesitated for a second before lowering herself onto his throbbing erection.

A gasp escaped his lips as the warmth of her body enveloped him. She moved in slow yet determined motions as she tested his thickness with her slick walls. His senses were overwhelmed by pleasure; he felt his entire being tremble underneath her. The wanton moans that left her lips made him buck against her each time they connected as one. Her hands digging into his shoulders, she rocked back and forth, seeking out a tantalizing rhythm to further heighten their bliss until the moment of ultimate ecstasy arrived and neither could take it anymore.

She knew that Damian wanted to return her pleasure, and she let him remove her from his lap so that he could enter her from behind. The slow insertion made it easier for her to accept him into her body, and she pushed back against him eagerly until they were joined completely. He leaned forward to cover her with the full weight of his body while keeping himself fully inside her; then he lifted himself off of her just an inch or two, before slamming himself forcefully against her core over and over again until they both climaxed together.

When they were done, they lay together, panting and sweating, their bodies intertwined.

He kissed her forehead and whispered in her ear, “I guess we know who won the bet.” Ayesha smiled and kissed him back, and they both knew that, as far as bets go, this one had definitely been in their favor.

[versegm]

“Man! What a match, huh?” The foreign master is grinning from ear to ear, taking off her baseball uniform. “I hope we get to face each other off again next year! This was so much fun!”

The uniform she’s changing into is one from Chaldea. The black one, to be precise. The one you’ve been wearing through every lostbelt so far. She recognized Mandricardo earlier. She’s been almost as far as you. She’s seen almost as much as you do. She’s worked so hard, gotten so far, and she has-

failed.

No command spell ornate her hand. Liz, waiting for her outside, will surely dissolve with the singularity. This master, this you from another world, is alone.

“Well, this is a goodbye.” She concludes, buttoning her shirt all the way up. “See you later-!”

She moves to leave the lockers, but you grab her arm first.

“You don’t need to leave.” You tell her hurriedly. “There’s space in the Border. We could use a backup Master, even. We could-”

She smiles at you, and you end your sentence here. It’s not like her earlier smile. This one is very small, and very sad. You know that smile. You know it because it’s your face. You know it because she’s you.

She cannot stay here. She cannot stay anywhere. Such is the curse of Musashi’s kin, of these survivors from pruned timelines- doomed to hop from world to world, never to stick around.

The woman suddenly reaches up, to your face. Fingers graze your cheek.

“Give me something to remember. Please.” And then, a little quieter: “it is so cold out there, and I have been so lonely.”

A pang of hurt ripples through your soul. You understand. You understand. You can barely imagine a life without your servants around, without at the very least the comfort of the suitcase by your side. Such a fate would have been torture to you- and therefore must be torture to her, now.

You lean down, and catch her lips between her own. The kiss is brief, but heated, not so much lust as hunger, as the desperate need to remember the touch of another human.

When the two of you part, she rests her head against your chest, breathing heavily.

“... Give me a name.” She mutters eventually. “That, I can carry with me.”

You think back to Fairy Britain. That’s a heavy responsibility, a name- identity and duty all into one. You are no magician. You do not have clairvoyance. All you can do is pick a sound you like, and hope it gives her a better fate to look forward to. “How about Rokka?”

“Rokka… Yes. Yes, I’ll remember that.” She tilts her head and looks up at you. “You’ll take care of them, right? Our beloveds.”

“Of course.” Your servants have died so many times for your sake already. And it will happen again. But you can’t let it be for good. You can’t. You can’t.

“You have to survive this. You can’t end up like me. It sucks. You have to live through this.” Her hands clench around the fabric of your shirt. “One of us has to. One of us has to make all these corpses worth it. One of us has to make all our corpses worth it. You have to live through this.”

You circle your arms around her, and hold her tightly. “I’ll… do my best.”

“Hey. Listen.” She tilts her head up to look at your face. “I know you don’t like yourself very much. I know because I don’t like myself very much. We have done terrible things. Nothing will ever change that.” She reaches up to take your chin again. “But I know you love me. I know because it is in your nature to love. So believe me when I say this: no matter what happens, whether you succeed or fail, whether you are victim or murderer, I love you. ”

You know. You know. You know. You want to say so, but your throat feels swollen.

She smiles again, a bittersweet thing. “I’ll cherish the name you gave me. Try to forget it though, alright?”

She gets on her tiptoes, presses her lips against yours, and-

-You wake up in a jolt, safely nestled in your bed back in Novum Chaldea.

Slowly, you raise a hand to touch your lips. Then, with a huff, you throw an arm over your eyes.

“Idiot.” Hot tears are gathering at the corners of your eyes. “Of course I’ll remember you.”