#HOW IN THE FUCK ARE YOU USING EVERY BIT OF SPACE ON THE STOVE!

[tchotchkez]

hungry as fuck but my shitty fucking roommate is monopolizing the kitchen and somehow using literally every eye on the stove

(i want to burn this place down)

[incognit0slut]

Hi author, can you write one where soft Dom Spencer (our beloved) is needy after work and tries to distract reader while she's cooking?

Heat of the Moment

warnings/notes: I’m gonna be honest with you, I don’t have the energy to write smut but I will write the build-up scene to it. So suggestive content (MDNI) with a sprinkle of fluff and a whole lot of Spencer being horny. (This is also very self-indulgent because I fucking love mac and cheese, and if any of you hate cheese in general, I’m afraid we can’t be friends)

Cooking isn’t exactly your best skill. Just follow the recipe, they say, and you do, although following step-by-step instructions isn’t the same as having a natural knack for it. No matter how closely you measure the spices or time in the oven, something always seems a bit off. A little bit overcooked. A little bit burnt. But Spencer, bless your boyfriend’s heart, never complains.

“What smells so good?”

You look over your shoulder to see him strolling into the kitchen, still in his work clothes. Loose dress pants, rolled-up sleeves, top buttons undone. The tie you help him put on this morning is missing.

“You don’t always have to do that, you know?” You say as you turn back toward the stove. You stir the creamy, slightly lumpy mac and cheese, the thick sauce clinging to the pasta in a way that looks almost perfect, if not for the slightly scorched edges.

“Do what?”

“Pretend it’s amazing,” you reply with a sigh. “I know it’s not.”

You feel his presence behind you. “I’m not pretending.”

“You haven’t even tasted it yet.”

He peers over your shoulder. “I don’t need to. I trust you.”

“You trust me too much.”

“Just as much as you do,” he explains, placing his hands on your waist. “You trust me too, don’t you?”

“Trusting you to carry a gun isn’t the same as trusting your taste buds,” you reply, slightly leaning into him. Your back lands perfectly against his chest. “One requires skill, the other… a strong stomach.”

He gives your waist a gentle squeeze as his laughter fills the small space between you. You like his laugh, it’s warm and infectious. It makes you smile even though you’re feeling a bit self-conscious about your cooking.

“Well, I’ve survived both so far. So I think I’m doing pretty well.”

You stare at the pot, watching the mac and cheese bubble slightly. “What do you think the chances are of us getting food poisoning from this?”

Spencer gently pulls your hair out of the way, his fingers lightly brushing against your neck. He leans in and presses a soft kiss. “I’d say the chances are low,” he murmurs. “You're always too hard on yourself.”

You laugh softly, leaning back into him. “Maybe, but I just don’t want to mess this up.”

His hands start to wander, tracing gentle patterns on your waist before sliding around to your stomach. “You won’t mess it up,” he assures you. He lets his lips trail down your neck. “And even if you did, I wouldn’t mind.”

You feel a rush of warmth that has nothing to do with the stove. “Really?”

“It’s already good because you made it.”

You can feel his body pressing closer, his warmth enveloping as he lingers on the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Spencer, are you trying to distract me?”

You can practically feel the smile on your skin. He shakes his head, the slight roughness of his stubble brushing against your neck as he murmurs, “Not distracting, just appreciating.”

His denial is playful, his tone light, but his actions tell a different story. His hands continue their exploration, now slipping underneath your shirt. His palm is warm and slightly rough as it makes contact with your skin. He traces gentle patterns along your stomach, moving so slowly and as if he’s savoring every inch.

You feel your pulse quicken, each beat echoing in your ears. “Baby…”

“Hm?” he hums, and your breath catches when his thumb brushes just below your breasts.

“If you keep this up, there might not be any food for dinner.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

You try to focus on the pot, where the sauce has begun to form a thicker layer at the bottom, slightly burned and sticking. But his touch makes it difficult to concentrate. "Unless you plan to feed us on kisses alone, I think we might need something more substantial too."

Spencer laughs softly, a low rumble of amusement that you can feel as much as hear. "I don’t know, kisses for dinner sounds pretty tempting."

"I’m afraid it won’t satisfy our hunger."

"I think it’ll satisfy mine just fine."

“Oh my god,” you gasp, catching on to the deeper meaning in his words. You tighten your grip on the wooden spoon as you resume your stirring. “Stop distracting me.”

If anything, he clings to you even more. He rests his chin on your shoulder as his hands travel down your stomach again, only this time, they linger at the hem of your shorts. His fingers play with the fabric, teasingly tugging at it.

“Spencer.”

“What?”

And then you feel it, the unmistakable pressure of his arousal pressing against your back. It’s a firm, urgent presence, a hard line that aligns tightly against your own curves. The hardness of it distracts you even further.

“You’re making it really hard to cook,” you murmur, trying to sound stern but the breathiness in your voice betrays your growing distraction.

He slips a hand inside the waistband of your shorts while the other trace along your stomach. “I think we should forget about cooking for a while.”

“You know we can’t do that,” you try to argue, even as your hips instinctively follow his touch. “We need to eat.”

“But we could be doing other things,” Spencer whispers, nipping gently at your earlobe. His teeth graze your skin lightly before his lips close around it, tugging softly. The sigh you let out is shaky and breathless. The idea is tempting, dangerously so. The persistent heat from his hand, now tracing idle circles on your underwear, isn’t helping your focus.

“Aren’t you—” your grip on the wooden spoon loosens when he slips a finger over the waistband. “Aren’t you the one who… always says how our bodies need… what was it again?”

Spencer nods. “The human body need about 2,000 calories a day to function properly. But,” he continues, slipping another finger in. “We also need affection and touch for our emotional well-being.”

You swallow hard. “What else do we need?”

“Pleasure. Lots of it.”

You don’t know whether you should be laughing or not. His boldness is both shocking and strangely amusing. Spencer isn't the type to be straightforward when it comes to sex, but when he is, it's always intense. He's clingy, he craves attention, and even when his cheeks flush with embarrassment, it doesn't stop him. It hasn't stopped him in the past, and it's not stopping him now.

Your mind scatters as he starts pressing himself harder, slightly grinding behind you. And when he adds another finger in, then followed by another until all of his five fingers dive into your underwear, you know you’re already too far gone. You let go of your grip on the wooden spoon before it clatters inside the pot, reaching down to hold his arm to stop him.

“Fine. Fine. You win.” You breathe out heavily as you gently pull his hand out. “We should at least turn off the stove first.”

He grins, pulling away to turn off the burner. “There. Now, where were we?”

You finally turn to face him, your hands finding their way to his shirt. You grip onto the material. “I think you were about to prove a point about pleasure.”

His response is a soft laugh before his lips meet yours. He’s gentle when he touches you. He always is. His hands slides around your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies. You let your hand trail over his chest, up, up, up, until your fingers find the soft curls of his hair.

When he finally pulls away, he's smiling from ear to ear. "I think that's proof enough, don't you?"

You smile back, breathless and flushed. "Maybe," you reply, your fingers gently tugging at his hair. "But I might need a bit more convincing."

His grin widens, and he leans in again, his lips brushing against yours as he whispers, "I can do that."

You can feel his hands tightening around your waist as he begins to kiss you again, deeper this time. It's all teeth and tongue, raw and hungry. The forgotten dinner on the stove barely registers in your mind. But with his hands and lips distracting you, you find it hard to worry about anything else.

[kechiwrites]

decided to break it

toxic baby daddy!ghost x reader

part 4/?

synopsis: babies change everything, and neither you, nor simon handle change very well at all.

wc: 2.2k

cw: afab!reader, angst, hurt with no comfort, language, break up fic, abandonment issues, no gendered language, discussions and depictions of pregnancy. no use of y/n ever.

author’s note: im back <3, more tomorrow, or perhaps later tonight if i feel up to formatting on this hell site. for kitten, shia, nori, 👩🏿‍🍼 anon, and everyone else who cheered me up when i felt super down post-holidays

new to baby blue? start here.

"Fuck." You murmur, maybe for the fourth time since the 15 minute timer had gone off on your phone. The word doesn’t seem heavy enough to sum up how you’re feeling, but you give it a few more tries anyway, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The word 'pregnant', however, is the heaviest you’ve ever seen, latching onto your limbs and skin and dragging you to the floor beneath you. ‘Pregnant’ stares you in the face from the stick in your shaking hands, punctuated with a little smiley face you can barely see through tears. In the back of your mind you kind of wished you'd gotten the kind with the little ambiguous pink lines, just so you could pretend you didn't understand what two lines instead of one meant. Just for a little bit. Alas, the pharmacist recommended the slightly more expensive test, the kind that gives you a week estimate. The kind that tells you you've been fucked for 3-4 weeks now.

Every emotion you'd been feeling up until then cedes to white hot panic. It's hard to breathe in your little blue bathroom.

You wonder what he'll say. 

No. 

You dread what he’ll say. 

It’s nothing you two have ever talked about, not in the cold blackness of night, when he’d sat in your arms with his face bare to you and murmured every gory detail of his upbringing to you and not a goddamn therapist. Not the following morning when you’d sobbed your terror of the future, and losing everything you had into his lap. And certainly not when you had mutually decided you were “getting serious”.

And now you have to. You have to tell Simon you’re pregnant.

There's a pit in your stomach when he comes by that night, mask off and eyes warm, considering like they always are. You get swept up in how it feels to be near him, to have him crowd into your space, soaking your senses in his scent, his warmth. He kisses you gently, so soft it makes you want to cry. He used to say he wasn't capable of being like that. Not with you. Not with anyone. 

Instead of sobbing into his chest like you’re desperate to, you chide him about wearing his boots in the house. You take the time he needs to unlace them to memorize what being with him feels like in this moment, the last time things will be easy. 

He levers up and nudges his boots over to yours, where they sit side by side. Tears choke your voice again, and you’re praying it’s just a pregnancy thing rather than a ‘you being an unstable wreck’ thing.

“Sit.” You turn to the kitchen, setting your kettle on the stove and turning the knob to high. He hunkers down on the worn cream leather of your couch. You linger in front of your stovetop as long as you can, fussing with the mug Simon uses almost always, an ugly misshapen pink thing you’d made at a beginner ceramics class four years ago. It’s chipped at the lip, rose coloured glaze cracked, exposing the beige clay underneath it. Your hand glances over boxes of tea, back and forth over colourful labels that may as well be written in gibberish for all the luck you're having reading them. 

It feels like there's no air in the room, like the secret under your t-shirt is taking it all, vacuum sealing your room until your chest burns and your head feels like it's going to pop. You tear open a brand new box of earl grey, stuffing it back onto your shelf when the tea bag is sat securely in the cup. 

"What's wrong?” He grouses from the couch, and it’s only then that you realize your shoulders are hunched up around your ears. 

“I..” your stomach rolls and sweat begins to bead on your forehead. You can hear him stir in his seat behind you, shifting forward so he can peer at you from your living room. Saliva gathers in your mouth, and oh god, maybe you actually will throw up, it’s too early for morning sickness right? Unless the stupid tests were wrong and now you’re going to cover your countertops in the stew you had for lun-

“Hey.” Simon is standing behind you now, his hands gripping your shoulders, shaking you lightly until you whip around to face him. The kettle is screaming now, filling your home with that shrill, high shriek of steam from the boiling water whistling through the appliance's tiny spout. 

Somehow it’s still quieter than your pulse pounding in your ear.

“I’m pregnant.” You choke out, if only to stop yourself from retching over Simon’s socked feet. God, it’s like time stops, then it splits and cracks in clean halves. Into before and after he knew. Before and after his concerned expression crumbled into disbelief, before and after he schooled that disbelief into placid nothingness. And it’s not like you’d entertained the delusion that he’d be happy about it. But the silent hang time before he reacts is this terrible, hollow, unknown that tears up your insides and relishes in the shiny, red viscera. 

A gruff, quiet "Are you sure?" is what you get from him, when he finally recovers, and you try so hard not to let it bother you. It's a shock. A surprise. A loud bang in the middle of a serene night, a cannon going off in your face, a gunshot into the sky when you thought the race was an hour from starting. 

You try to give him a bit of grace. Still, the pit in your stomach grows.

Now it's a bit of a sinkhole.

"Baby, I wouldn't be telling you if I wasn't sure." You move to snag your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, to tug him close so you can hold each other, support each other, but he take a small step backwards, letting his palms slip from your shoulders. 

The sinkhole is a cavern, yawning wide, open and empty. 

You toss your hope and love inside.

“I need…some time.” He mutters, slinking out of your space, out of the kitchen and back into your entryway. 

'Time to fucking what?' you think, but hold back. You know Simon. You love Simon. And you remember where he's come from. What he's come from. You realize a second too late you should be following him, and when you stumble over the kitchen threshold, he’s tying up his boots, his broad back facing you. You try to peer around him, try to get a look at his face, desperate to gauge where he’s at. But when you notice he’s knocked your shoes over in his scramble to get away, to be anywhere but here, you stop moving..

“Y-yeah. Okay. Just..uh, get back to me soon okay?” you stutter, and wrap your arms around yourself, like you know Simon won't. Not with the way his hands are shaking. 

He doesn’t even respond this time. 

The soldier just stands. He opens your front door. And walks out. Leaving you in your entryway. Water past its boiling point in the kettle.

You don’t see him again until you’re four, nearly five months along, the bump under your clothes now impossible to hide. When you stumble into your home, exhausted from working, he’s in your living room. Sitting there in his mask at your tiny dining room table. Like no time has passed at all. Like he should be there. You realize you never did get your spare house key back.

“Get out.” you spit, blood boiling under your skin. 

"I know you're upset-" He begins, like he’s about to deliver a practiced speech.

"Get the fuck out!" Your tone is caustic, and you hope it burns him, hope it strips off all the facade on the rotting structure he is underneath.

"I never meant to leave it so long. This." He won't even say it. Can't even refer to you, let alone your baby. He stands up and becomes this big, dark mass in the bright space of your living room, black mask, black shirt, black boots, just a huge black hole that sucks up every good feeling you’d had in his absence, every ray of light that’d shone through the dark gloom he’d left behind. Nothing escapes his pull. 

He peers at you from the gap in his mask. The stark white skull stretched over his face mocks you, maliciously whispers in your ear; ‘Did you think you knew him? That he was honest with you? Open to you?’

And you had. You did. You thought you were making progress, building some semblance of a future, falling in love.

It makes you sick to your stomach to think of it.

"You want to apologize, take the fucking mask off Simon." Your voice breaks, and part of you hopes he hears it for the plea it is. Hopes he understands what you’re asking of him. Hopes he feels how bad you missed him, under the hurt and pain and bitter, bitter loneliness. If he would just take it off, just pull the stupid fabric over his face and show you he was still yours under there, that he’d make a mistake and he’s ready now, then maybe the two of you could fix it. This.

Instead, his silence, his stillness cracks open your ribcage and pours black ink over your heart.

Humiliation and anger simmer on your tongue. What comes next is shockingly easy. "Oh you can't do it, huh? Can't be a fucking person with me, huh?" You shove at his chest, and he takes it, staring at you with pain in his eyes. Like this is hurting him.

"I shouldn't have waited so long, but I-" he steps towards you and it feels so good to rip away from his touch. To step back from his advance.

"No!” You shout, and your face is so hot, skin ablaze with righteous anger. “Shut up! Three months? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

And yes, one month of that was deployment, you’d known that, you’d talked about it, together. One month of no contact. One month of sand and heat and blood. But the other two months had been that white hot panic you'd felt on your own, in that tiny bathroom with the peeling blue wallpaper he'd promised he'd help you strip and replace. The other months had been missed calls, and ignored texts and you getting bigger under your sweaters because unlike him, you couldn't just take a break from the situation.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” You shove past him, deeper into your home, spinning around so he’s closer to your entryway than you are. “Don’t you ever show your face here again, do you hear me?” You’re screaming now, much to Ghost’s visible discomfort. Good. You hope your nosy ass neighbours call the cops. You hope they physically remove his pathetic ass. You hope they embarrass him. (It isn’t very likely, of course. But God, could you dream).

“You can't just keep it from me.” He steps closer and you lament that he has you on the backfoot. It’s your space, your home and yet it feels as though you’re the one who’s out of place, off kilter and uncomfortable. You glare at him. 

“It’s mine too.”

‘It’ he says, and that bothers you. Irks you. Him calling your baby an ‘it’. 

“Give me a fucking break, it wasn’t yours when you left me, you couldn’t wait to get your sorry ass out of here when I told you. Now you wanna play daddy? I don’t fucking think so.” You dig your fingernails into the meat of your palms, leaving aching crescents in their wake. 

“And you know what? Maybe it’s my fault for wanting to be with someone who is so fundamentally fucking broken that he couldn’t fucking bear to show me his goddamn face until I’d begged him. Maybe I’m the idiot for thinking you could ever be capable of love, of decency. I needed you. And you abandoned me, Simon. You are a fucking monster.” 

The word hangs in the air, hovering between the two of you where it can’t be taken back, and it sure as hell can’t be forgotten.

“You are good at distancing yourself, you are good at killing your feelings. Keep doing that. Stay the fuck away from me and my kid.” You’re panting when you finish, and everything hurts, one of your hands is bleeding, your eyelids prickle with the pain of unshed tears, your throat feels strained and tight. He nods once, jerky and quick, before he takes an unbalanced step back. Then another and another, his eyes never leaving yours, like he’s looking for something, anything other than hurt and hatred.

But there’s nothing else to find.

He turns, opening your front door and trudging out, heavy footfalls bracketing short moments of gut wrenching silence. It feels final. But it doesn’t feel good. Not like you thought it might.

He’s halfway into his SUV when you scramble out your front door, shouting over your porch railing to him in your driveway. “And get rid of my fucking keys!” He stares at you, standing stockstill, before he gets in the driver’s seat and pulls away.

whew, nice to post ghosty-poo again

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[rippersz]

𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍

«——..✞..——»

«——..✞..——»

(DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT) (TW: Mentions of cannibalism, murder, slight glorification of both, gore, toxic love, smutty/suggestive themes, etc.) (Larissa Weems x Fem!Reader)

«——..✞..——»

“To love someone is firstly to confess: I’m prepared to be devastated by you,” ~ Billy-Ray Belcourt

«——..✞..——»

You found a place.

It’s risky. It’s crazy. It’s fucking mad.

But you found it.

And it’ll work. If you’re quick, quiet, sleek, smart - it’ll work.

You leave the other shoe behind, somewhere in a random hallway near the botany classroom, tipped onto its side just like the first one. It’s forgotten as soon as you turn away and stalk down the left corridor, mind set on nothing but the spot that you imagine.

It may not even be there honestly, but that’s okay. A shot in the dark. There will be other places. What time is it? You don’t stop to look at a clock. You can’t. She may be around here. She may be watching. She may be waiting.

Just go. Just go. Just go. You know where. Just go.

Every teacher at Nevermore has a master key. It’s uncommon- different to normie schools where teachers only have keys to their own classrooms- but it’s a safety precaution. If a young outcast, unfamiliar with the environment, lashes out or has an issue and is trapped in a place unreachable by anyone but a certain adult, there could be consequences. Larissa put the master key rule in place. Larissa was kind enough to think of the students. Larissa made it possible, ironically enough, for you to hide during your game of hide and seek- and win.

You’re going to win.

You slide the golden key into the lock, slide it out again, and you know you’re going to win. You turn the handle and open the door, slowly slowly slowly- there’s no creak at all- and you know you’re going to win. You walk into the dark and you know you’re going to win. You close the door behind you again, slowly slowly slowly- there’s no creak at all- and you know, you just know, you’re going to win.

You’ve never been here before. You don’t know anything about this place. You wouldn’t dare to step into it on any other day, never alone and never without an invitation, but she never gave you boundaries. The predator never confirmed the walls of play. The predator never told you not to cross the line.

And being the excited, nervous, scared little lamb that you are, you jumped over it. Grasped the chance to outsmart the wolf. The tiger. The lion. The bell.

You take a few terrifying seconds to let your eyes adjust. The dark is consuming. The silence is thick. Ringing. So loud. The absence of life. Nothing but you breathes within this space. Within this den.

They always say the abused returns to the abuser. They always say the best place to hide is in the seeker’s home.

Well you’re in the seeker’s home.

And everything’s quiet.

And as you stand there, chest slow with breath and eyes quickly blinking to adjust to the dark, you can’t help but think about how lovely it would be if you could walk in there with a smile on your face and a bouquet of roses in your arms.

“My love! I’m back! Where are you?”

“In the bedroom, darling!”

And the space would smell like garlic and spices and simmering butter and there’d be the soft sound of socked feet padding into the open-plan living room and kitchen and nothing but a smile, silk pajama pants, and a bra would greet you. Lips stained with the leftovers of rose-colored rouge, the palest eyelashes, brows, and hair on display without makeup. Platinum locks a little messy and half untangled. She’d be interrupted during her nightly routine while dinner cooked on the stove; a pin or two held in one hand and nothing but love and a golden ring of matrimony in and on the other.

“Oh… What’s the special occasion?” And she’d give you the most sinful smirk while she grasped the collected stem of roses from your hand and used her grip to tug you closer.

It would draw every bit of sense from your head. It would make you blush and smile so hard you’d get dizzy.

“I just wanted to treat you. You’ve been working so hard,” and it would come out as a shy whisper and a look of utter softness would pass over her features before she’d bring you as close as she could.

“Thank you, my sweet girl,” and then you’d kiss her so slowly- so beautifully- that you wouldn’t be able to believe your luck.

And the timer on the stove would choose that second to beep. And then she’d tug herself away and waltz over to the kitchen, leaving you to put your coat up on the stand and your shoes in the closet beside the front door.

“What did you make, love?” You’d call, eagerly setting your purse down on the living room couch before charging into the kitchen.

And she’d be busy already taking out a vase from a cabinet somewhere, filling it with water, using the other hand to toss whatever it is that was cooking to perfection in the pan.

“Roasted vegetables, potatoes, and a new spin on fried rice. Does that sound alright with you?” And she’d give you a smile over a pale shoulder and you’d want to rush forward and ravage her within an inch of her life - but you’d stay still, lean against the island, and nod. Of course it would be alright with you.

“Sounds delicious!” And she’d hum in happy agreement as she puts the pan down to pull out kitchen scissors and start tending to the roses.

And then you’d help with dinner and you’d sit down together and she’d disappear to put a shirt on and you’d frown and say ‘whyyyyyy?’ and she’d swat you on the shoulder with a playful smile and then you’d have your home-cooked meal and it would taste just as good as it smelled and everything would be perfect and right and there wouldn’t even be an ounce of meat within 50 feet of you and there’d be no mention of murder or cannibalism or anything of the sort.

And it would be lovely. A dream. Warm candlelight on her face. Curled hair brushing the tops of her shoulder blades. A sweet palm reaching out to curl around your own. The deepest most beautiful nothings whispered in between bites.

A world of utter bliss.

…

…

…

But the bell still tolls, doesn’t it?

Even there.

Even in that world.

It tolls. Even in that salvation, it echoes. Coming for you. Hungering for you. Hers forever. The matching rings say so.

And there’s no bouquet in your hand anyway.

And there’s no smile on your face anyway.

And there’s no warmth in the room you stand in.

And it only smells vaguely of Larissa’s perfume and that unique scent that all spaces of living seem to have. And there’s really nothing for you here at all, is there? Even in the dark, when your eyes finally become familiar with the slightest outline of certain objects- even then, you know you are an intruder and not a guest. You know you are not welcome, even though Larissa would surely love to have you there with her. But only under her authority. And only with her by your side. So you can’t go snooping. So you can’t find real evidence of what she is.

What she does.

The lives she ends.

Does that make her a monster perhaps?

Does all of that red make her a murderer instead of a woman in need of food? Of survival? Does the harvesting of organs make her a sinful thing only deserving of death?

What makes her different from a mother lion catching food for her babies?

What makes her different from a hungry animal dashing through the underbrush?

Does lipstick, hairpins, perfume, and clothing set her aside? Does having a conscious aid in a lack of sympathy? Is she merely returning to base instincts and taking taking taking what she truly desires?

Why do you hate something that does not affect you?

Why do you fear her when you are not the victim?

You haven’t gotten around to asking her why you’re so special. You haven’t told her that you’re confused and that you’d like to know quickly because it’s been keeping you up and driving you mad. Is it because you fear her answer? Is it because the unknown depths of her interest make you feel far more special than they should?

Is it because you don’t want to give in?

You want to resist?

What makes her different from the outcasts that have conquered entire regions? From the outcasts that tried to dismantle the world?

What makes her… better?

Is it because of her status?

Her grace?

Her achievements?

Or is it because sometimes- sometimes- you find yourself glancing at her out of the corner of your eye and seeing the face of a woman you want with all of your heart?

Or maybe it’s because sometimes you think you can love her. Even as the monster she is.

—

Larissa finds herself quite bored when you’re not around.

Where has her little lamb gone? Where has she disappeared to? The pretty thing left her shoe behind. Silly lamb. The predators never fall for decoys. But she did have to hand it to you - what a good distraction. Only to honor your intelligence did she dip into the room, take a look at all of the available hiding spots, and walk out of the office with a small smirk on her face. Of course she knew you weren’t there, but that didn’t matter. She had time.

As she rounded the corner of an intersection, taking a glance down all three of the halls before her, she brought a wrist up to check her watch.

10:19, the little mechanical hands spelled. 26 minutes.

26 minutes and you’re all hers.

26 minutes and you can have the sweetest dinner of all time. The most romantic.

26 minutes and you can see she’s not mad. She was just born to be as she was.

The hands tick.

Larissa flicks her wrist down and stalks forward. There’s no time for dilly-dallying. If she could cut it down to 15 minutes, 10 if she’s feeling daring enough to start jogging, then that would be even more time spent in your company. Perhaps you could go over the plans for the meal. What other sides would you like with your meat, she wonders. Are you a savory person? Or sweet? Oh and dessert- she has to start thinking about that as well. Are you allergic to anything? She makes a mental note to ask - and nearly misses the black wedge left carelessly in the middle of the floor.

A light eyebrow raises.

“Oh?” Her voice is a velvet murmur; tinged with surprise and interest.

She expected you to keep the other shoe. The office was a clever idea, indeed, but anything beyond that would be overkill. She blinked, taking in the black felt and raised heel. Obviously, you disagreed.

No.

You wouldn’t just do that.

Not on purpose. There was no point to it. She already knew your shoes were off - and you wouldn’t hide near a breadcrumb she so readily consumed…

It must have been dropped in a rush.

An idea had struck you. And you left the shoe on its own, all too eager to win.

She turns her head, taking in the hall. You left it near the botany and biology wing. There’s not many places to hide in those classrooms. It’s mainly equipment, plants, open spaces for demonstrations and hands-on learning. She tilts her head, imagining you running off in an uncertain direction, finding yourself spooked by staying in one place for ‘too long’. Like Cinderella leaving her beloved slipper behind. For the big bad cannibal to find.

She hums, taking the time to waltz in a circle around the shoe before deciding to crouch. Pale hands slide beneath her, smoothing out the dress to slope against her knees. Now if she observes the shoe, a simple object yes but one that can give you away with ease… if she imagines the strap of it hanging from two of your fingers… or resting like a comfort item within your arms, held close to your chest… she can picture you dropping it. Or placing it. But with no particular purpose in mind if not to just leave your hands empty. Free to use. To be stealthy. Wherever you tottered off to, you needed to be extra quiet. She tilts her head. The heel of it, made from a strange pale wooden material that the typical ‘wedge’ seems to be made of, faces the corridor to her right. And the toe of it points to her. Many shoes, she’s observed over a long period of time wearing her own, tend to fall on their sides when they’re plonked down. And many of them tip toward the edge that is ‘heavier’. For a wedge with a slope, like yours, the part of the shoe that holds the majority of your foot- the last three toes and the flatter part of the sole- is higher than the rest. So it’s heavier. Unless it was knocked off balance beforehand.

She lets out a quick ‘tsk tsk tsk’ and shakes her head.

Right. Well. To retrace her steps; she came from the left, near the teachers quarters. But while she was there, she didn’t hear anything. Not even a creek.

So you must have gone to the left of that - which would be forward if you ran down the hall to her right.

With a nod, she finally stands.

She’ll check down there first, and if it’s quiet and still, she’ll double back to look for her lamb.

—

Your original idea of hiding under the kitchen sink turned out to be a bust. The space there was full of cleaning supplies. Rubber gloves, bleach, plastic bags - you wrenched your hand away with a grimace once you pictured what she’d done with those things. What messes she’d cleaned.

What footprints of her own she had to hide. Wash away. Get rid of.

Yeah. Under the sink was no good. And the kitchen was wide open anyway; if she thought to check her quarters, she’d go there first.

After you stand up and let out a sigh, only one other place comes to mind.

Larissa must have a big closet.

She always looks so gorgeous. Her clothes are designer - her shoes are rarely worn twice in the same week - her accessories change in the blink of an eye. So many things to adorn her body. So much space to keep those things.

It’s hard enough to move around in the dark with no aim, but when you’re looking for something, it’s far worse. There’s a sudden panic that exists. A sudden desperate hurry.

Need to hide before she comes. Need to go go go, otherwise the doorknob is gonna turn and she’s gonna walk in and it’s all gonna be over and it can’t be over I have to win I have to win I have to win I have to win I have to win-

Finally, you go stumbling into an open room. The floor is hardened wood beneath your feet, the air smells heavily of Larissa’s perfume, and there’s a lightswitch on the wall near your shoulder. It’s a bad idea to turn it on - a very bad idea - really it could put you in immense jeopardy - but if you do it quickly, if you do it just so you can see where the closet is (assuming it’s her bedroom after all), then you may have a chance to hide amongst the clothing. Or somewhere else. Anywhere could work, really. So long as you’re hidden.

“Okay,” you mouth to yourself, nodding at no one in particular, gathering the courage to place one hand on the lightswitch and flick it on.

Two seconds.

One.

Two.

A swift glance- scan- then it’s off- and you’re turning to your right, having seen the open closet door out of the corner of your eye. In your nearly blind haste, you smack your shoulder against the wood of the doorframe and let out a surprised hiss. It hurts, instantly, like a motherfucker - and you grasp your arm and close your eyes and press your lips together hard to hold in a whimper. Hopefully the bone hasn’t been knocked out of its goddamn socket. Though even if it was, it wouldn’t matter. You can’t exactly call for help now, can you? And there’s no one to run to. And there’s nowhere to go. And the only other person in the general vicinity is currently the same person hunting you down.

The bell never stops tolling. Not even for an injured lamb.

So no matter what you do, you’re gonna have to deal with the dull, bruising ache. It spreads from your shoulder out, but that doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You need a hiding spot. It’s the greatest priority. The very thing that will (hopefully) save you.

And sure you’re not being murdered. She’s not going to slaughter you. But for some reason, that’s all you can picture her doing once she’s caught you. Slicing a knife through the butter of your throat and spilling the rich of your blood onto the floor. Watching it seep. Finding it oddly beautiful. And then honoring your body by consuming it. Drinking it out of your veins. Searing the sweet flesh of your thighs. Or your arms. As you duck into the closet, covering yourself in darkness, you wonder briefly what part of the human body is her favorite. She’s never told you. Perhaps she never will.

…Unless she wins.

No. She’s not going to win because you’re going to win. You have no choice.

Right. No choice. Of course.

You move your hand and press it to the wall, feeling around for another lightswitch. As soon as you find it, you figure the quick-flick method could work again. She’s less likely to see it since the closet is facing away from the entrance and it will only be for a second. Yeah, just a second. Yeah… just a second. Or two.

Click.

One.

Two.

And it’s off.

You scanned as quickly as you could, trying hard not to get stuck on the many beautiful garments that lined the hangers on all sides. A very tall full-body mirror, lined in a golden frame, leaned against the far left wall, and there was a big white poof in the center of the room, and once you look up, taking only a millisecond, you see- ah.

In the short amount of time that you have to look, you spot a shelf that runs around the entire perimeter of the room. It’s just above the hangers, separating the clothing from the space above it. There’s things on the shelf- shirts, pants, and even a few handbags, but the smile that spreads onto your face only grows at the sight.

If you find a way to get up there, then the game is yours. Yours completely. You can win without a doubt.

The cards are on the table. Take the money, lamb. Take it now.

—

You’re nowhere here and she’s starting to get frustrated.

Her sweet girl couldn’t have gone far. You don’t know all of the access points to the roof; and it’s hard to go out into the woods - especially when it’s raining. And uncomfortable. And cold. You wouldn’t be that silly. And she knows that you know that she’d check the Nightshade Library. So you wouldn’t hide there. And the children’s dorms…. Well she hopes you know better than to covet yourself within their private spaces. Yes, that was a line neither of you would cross.

So where else was there to go?

Where else was there to sneak away to? What other place could you possibly dare to-

…….oh.

She stops in the middle of the corridor.

Oh.

Oh darling.

Oh lamb.

You’re where you’re not supposed to be, aren’t you?

Clever. So clever.

Always running right beneath her nose. Just out of sight. Waiting for her to get impatient and snatch you up.

She continues forward, remembering a notch in a nearby wall that triggers an entrance to the stone labyrinth that rests within Nevermore’s hallowed halls. The students don’t know of it. The staff doesn’t know of it. There's joy found in the most hidden thing. Her school, her secrets. Her game, her rules. Her advantage. She will win.

The path opens. The door slides closed. The torches light themselves.

Dearest lamb… sweetest lamb… you were tense with worry and intrigue when she last saw you. Dashing off into the beauty of her home, only to wind up within the epicenter of everything you’ve come to find is most harmful. Most complex. Most toxic. But humans have never been very good at taking care of themselves. So close to wires, to bleach, to the rot of the universe that they die from their own silly mistakes on the daily. And there you are, her darling lamb, running head first into danger. Don’t you know you’re not supposed to. But honestly, if anyone were to ask, Larissa would say she didn’t mind. And she doesn’t. Of course it’s no surprise that you don’t believe her words. That you don’t think she’s capable of ‘giving it up’. And she’s not. She isn’t. But you don’t have to know that. She’ll leave you in suspense, and when the moment is right, she will win.

It will hurt to see your shock. And your pain. But it must be dealt with, no? You agreed to her terms - and so you will face the consequences.

Sweet loon… why do you punish yourself for your own desires?

—

How the fuck are you gonna make it up there?

You’ve tried jumping, reaching, grasping - all with no result. To be fair, the shelf is very high. But it seemed sturdy when you saw it earlier. And if you got onto your hands and knees, you could most likely make it. Unless the time runs out.

You’re too nervous to feel your way back into the kitchen just to get a glance at the clock so you resort to flicking the light back on in the tiniest intervals. It doesn’t really help but it, at least, finally, tells you that there’s a ladder in the closet. Standing against the far right corner, hidden in the shadows, is a step stool with quite a few levels.

Seems even the tallest of cannibals need a little help reaching their designer bags.

You peel it away from the wall slowly, holding it tight, and move backward in the dark. There’s no ideal place to put it, but you figure the farther away from the door the better. Just in case she finds you out, she probably won’t notice the ladder so far into the back of the closet. So you keep it near where you found it and take the steps one at a time.

The only sounds in existence are your breathing, the shift of your clothing, and the steps creaking as you go up. And up. And up. And finally- there. You reach out with one hand and touch the side of the shelf. Just as you figured, it’s made out of some weird reinforced wood. There’s barely a noise made when you push some more of your weight onto your hand.

Getting up will be difficult with a hurt shoulder (it still makes you wince to move it), but you really have no choice. You can practically feel the clock as it runs closer and closer to the bottom of the wire. What happens when it hits the very end? Who knows. Maybe the bell will stop tolling. Maybe you’ll be caught. Maybe it’ll be a tie. What happens then? If neither of you win and neither of you lose? Will Larissa give it up and you will have to eat dinner with her anyway? Or will nothing happen? Or will nothing change? Or will it always be like this? Running and hiding and running and hiding… no end in sight? No happy ending? Not even a glimpse of one? What’s the point of it, then? What’s the point in continuing your little song and dance? Will the pain of it all ever really be worth it? Will any of it matter in the end?

You pause, lingering on the top step of the ladder.

Are you going to live through this vicious cycle until the bitter finale? Until you’ve had enough? What even constitutes enough? What is your breaking point? Why haven’t you broken already? Why haven’t you shattered? Why haven’t you told the police?

She’s going to make you eat human meat if she wins.

And if you win, somehow someway, there’s just no way to hold her to her word. There’s no way to trust her. An addict can’t just quit cold turkey. A poor fiend can’t stop stealing out of the blue. That’s not how it works. A hungry predator doesn’t stop stalking prey because it decides it’s wrong.

She’s just another animal killing one of her own. What’s so terrible about that?

What’s so terrible about learning to deal with it?

Why can’t you accept it?

Why are you making a mountain out of a molehill? Why are you freaking out about the cycle of life? It’s just a little death. It’s just a little hunger. Why can’t you love her freely? For who she is? Why does there have to be perfection for you? Why do you set the bar so high? She’s everything, you know. She’s successful, she’s intelligent, she’s amusing and humorous, she’s charming, and handsome, and she could give you the world. And somehow, the best thing is, she thinks you’re worth the world.

Why?

No one knows.

Why does the wolf kill the lamb?

It’s hungry.

Does the lamb know that?

No.

The lamb just thinks it’s being killed for merely existing. Like eradicating a pest. Except they’re the pest. And so they must be eaten.

That’s how it goes.

Why?

No one knows.

Why does the bell stop tolling?

Oh don’t be silly.

It doesn’t.

It just keeps ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringin-

Footsteps.

Outside the door.

Down the hall.

Footsteps.

Footsteps...

Running?

«——..✞..——»

Okay I quite liked how I did this lol. Probably one or two more parts for this little series type thingy. Let me know what you think? Thank you my darlings. - Rip x

«——..✞..——»

Tags (Keep in mind Tumblr won’t let me tag certain accounts):

@kaymariesworld @bloommushroom @readingtheentrails @thegoddamnfeels @theonefairygodmother @theflashesoflove @sweetderacine @gwensfreak @shyladyfan @sunnyanon @emilynissangtr @sugipla @deongocrazy @nocteangelus15 @azu-zu @hopelessly-sapphic @enchantressb @syrenacrainn @im-a-carnivorous-plant @willowshadenox @aemilia19 @scarlettssub @ladysdraga @willisnotmental @gela123 @zillahofviolets-bayolet @the-bearr @amateurwritescm @alex-nyx @alexusonfire @h-doodles @weemssapphic

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

On demonrry’s days off when he can wake up late, angel gets up before him and makes him breakfast because he usually makes his own during the weekdays, despite her insisting that he wake her up so she can eat with him. Sometimes she manages to wake up on her own and beats him to the punch, but if she doesn’t do it herself, he makes his own breakfast and packs his own lunch as quietly as possible to get away with it, and then ducks into the room before he leaves to give her a quick kiss goodbye.

So when he has a break and doesn’t have to be up early, she takes advantage of it. And as she’s cooking on the stove, she feels him slink up behind her, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and burying his face into her neck, his lips warm and soft against her skin.

“You’re supposed to be asleep.” She scolds, keeping her attention on the contents of her pan. Despite the evident chastising, her words carry a playful undertone.

A gravelly groan emits from his throat, a combination of a defiant grunt and sleepy hum. “You’re supposed to be asleep with me.”

“Don’t turn this on me.”

Harry takes in a deep breath, inhaling her sweet, familiar scent and letting it filter through his lungs. He releases the air in the form of a soft, groggy chuckle. “Sharing the blame is way more fun.”

She casts her eyes towards the ceiling in mild annoyance, but it takes every ounce of willpower to fight off the endeared smile threatening her lips. “You’re impossible.”

His grasp on her hips tightens, his fingers squeezing her love handles temptingly. He sponges wet kisses across the slope of her jaw, each peck weakening her resolve. His voice comes out low, raspy, and thick with sleep, his nose tracing the curve along the back of her ear.

“Come back to bed.”

Y/N can’t help the way her body responds to his antics, the way it melts under his touch. She finds herself leaning into his embrace, her back flushed against his broad chest. “I’ll go as soon as I’m done. Should only be a few minutes.”

Harry’s mouth descends across the back of her bare shoulder, pushing her t-shirt down to reveal the silky flesh underneath. His teeth nip at the exposed section, actions growing more desperate and demanding by the second, his accent heavy with need. “Come back now. Please.”

“Harry—”

“I had plans for us this morning.” He mumbles wistfully, his palms coasting onto her thighs and massaging them almost roughly. “I wanted to kiss you awake. Wanted to taste my way down your body and take my time between your legs.”

His girlfriend’s breathing hitches at his confession, her muscles tightening with anticipation.

“Would’ve gotten my way if you weren’t so stubborn.” He scoffs, pushing forward to close any remaining space between them. The front of his thighs glue to the back of her own, trapping her between his body and the edge of the counter. “Been waiting for this all week, y’know that? A nice lazy morning, making you finish over and over with my tongue, and then my fingers, and then…”

He drags his soft lips upwards again, tickling the nape of her neck as his fingers wander onto the waistband of the boxers she’d stollen from his drawer. They duck under the fabric, crawling towards her center at a painfully slow pace just to tease her.

“And then I was going to spread you open and make you beg me for it. Was going to push inside that tight cunt and just enjoy it for a bit, if I’m being honest. Have you take it all and then lie still just to watch you squirm and whimper for me to fuck you.”

Y/N swallows thickly, throat suddenly dry and tongue brittle. She feels his fingers finally cup the area between her thighs, causing a damp gasp to escape her heaving chest. His middle digit begins toying at her clit with gentle, almost feathery motions, her knees buckling in response. Shocks of sheer pleasure zap through every nerve under her heated skin, making her vision blur as her head keels back onto his shoulder, mouth parting in a silent moan. He knows how to play her all too well.

Harry continues his torment, lips snug against her pounding temple as he whispers the absolute filth he would have done to her if she had given him the chance.

“Would have lasted a couple of minutes, or maybe longer if I was feeling mean. Definitely longer. You just look so pretty when you beg, makes me want to keep you on edge for hours. The way your eyes glow when you get desperate, and the little sounds you make? The way you whine my name and call me ‘baby’? Fuck, I can never get enough. Would savor every second of it.”

Y/N’s eyes screw shut as she feels waves of heat wash across her cheeks, pinpricks of ecstasy radiating through every crevice of her being. Harry has always had a gift when it comes to dismantling her with words, and whenever she thinks she’s finally managed to build some sort of defense against his skills, he never hesitates to prove her wrong.

Harry’s free hand comes up and grasps her jaw firmly, craning her face towards his until their eyes meet. The canopy green of his irises is gradually dissolving into pitch black, the glossy dark pigment reflecting her own emotions back at her. A wicked grin spreads across her boyfriend’s handsome features, his sculpted eyebrows arching into an expression of infuriating smugness. His tone is as cocky and triumphant as the rest of his demeanor.

“Let’s try this again: Come back to bed. Now.”

[mysticalsoups]

I need a way out | Joel Miller x reader

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Joel Miller 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Slight E4 spoilers! Splinters, kidnapping

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You are tired, hurt and lost in Kansas City after rummaging the suburbs, getting kidnapped and escaping. You meet Joel and Ellie

𝐖𝐂: 1,4k

𝐀𝐍: There will be another part! If there is enough animo, I might make a series out of this :) I haven't written for Joel before, and even though Joel isn't seen much in this part; I have many ideas! Also, warning: this chapter is not proof read, I wrote this and wanted to upload it as soon as I could :p

ao3

"Ouch." You hissed while flapping your left hand in the air as a reaction of plucking out a big piece of splinter from the palm of your hand. "That fucking stings."

Your right hand grabbed your bag in search of the flashlight you had packed in the side pocket. With a click came a flash of light and you placed the end of the flashlight in your mouth. You picked up the tweezers from the dirty floor and tried to pick out the remains of the splinter out your hand. With some cursing and grunting, you got all the splinters out. You had no time, or even the recourses to clean your hand the normal way before beginning, so all you did was splash over a little bit of the vodka you kept in your flask over your hand. You grabbed the bandages and before wrapping your hand you remembered you put down the tweezers on a dirty floor, so you had to desinfect your hand again. "There goes my fuel." You mumbled and poured down every last drop of your beloved drink on your hand.

After you had wrapped your hand and put everything back in the spot things belonged; the tweezers in your toiletbag filled with medical supplies, your flashlight in the sidepocket of your backpack and the flask was the only thing placed in a spot where it wasn't before; the front pocket of your bag instead of your jacket.

Your feet hurt, you were hungry and you felt drained. But you had to climb on these stairs, to the roof so you can scout for a way out of this damned city named Kansas. You have no clue how you ended up here in the first place, it was a day filled with chaos.

This morning you left your camp with a handful others, to go scouting in the suburbs for food and more medical supplies. When you got there, you all paired up with a partner and got supplied a list of houses that needed to be searched. You scoffed and cringed internally when Marshall teamed you up with Chase. Of course you would be teamed up with him, Chase did everything in his power to get you on this date he has been nagging you about for months. It did not surprise you he actually bribed Marshall to be teamed up with you.

"I hope you liked the flowers." He said while you were rummaging through some drawers of a kitchen. It was a nice kitchen actually, it had a lot of space; a long counter with a sink, microwave and coffeemaker; behind you was the kitchen island with a six gaspit stove and an oven; and of course, a lot of storage space with adorable cupboards above the counter. A lot of room to make multiple things at once, maybe a cake while cooking dinner even. You could see yourself use a kitchen like this, living in a house like this.

"Oy!" The nagging voice of Chase disturbed your thoughts and you looked up to him, confused. "Hm?"

"I said, I hope you liked the flowers, I know they are your favourite." "Oh! Uh- yeah, I did! They were lovely." You sighed back, not wanting to make a fuss about the fact that you actually gave them rightaway to mrs. Gallagher. They were beautiful, that was true. But what wasn't true was the fact that you liked roses, especially in the form of romance; you adored dandelions much more in general.

When he was about to open his mouth, the high pitched noice of trucks stopping abrupetley sounded through the neighbourhood. You ducked and crawled to the window, peeking open the curtain just a little bit to see what was going on. There were people armed with heavy machinery jumping off those trucks, kicking in doors and dragging people out. The same people you got here with. The sound of guns shooting and men screaming made you bolt for the backdoor. "Wait for me!" Chase yelled. He ran after you, into the line of trees.

"Fucking hell." Panted Chase, "Where did those guys come from?" You made a sussing noice, gesturing for him to get low to the ground. "Get low!" You yelled in a whisper.

"No way man! We need to get out of here." He yelled in a whisper back and continued his way further into the tree lines. "It'll get you killed!" You said back, too focused on him. It made you miss the gigantic dude walking up to you, now clicking the safety pannel on his gun pointed at your head.

"Stop walking or I'll shoot her brains out." The voice sounded heavy with a hint of a sore throat. You hope the bastard choked on a mouthfull of glass while raising your hands in the air. His mates followed along and grabbed you by the wrists before dragging you along to their trucks. Marshall already sat, by the rest of the group and he looked apologetic. You better hoped for that son of a bitch he also was sorry for teaming you up with Chase, because without him and his yapping ass you wouldn't be in this place.

They tied up ropes around your wrist before you could leave the truck and by your guesses, the rookie got assigned your wrists, because one swift motion and you would be out of them. That would get in handy later.

A couple minutes later, your group stood in front of the opening of a tall building, guards surrounding you. The building said something with FEDRA. The leader of their group was making big talk, you got bored quick. You got too focused on looking for ways out, you missed the part where one of your teammates spoke up. He was practically yelling and you couldn't make out his words, but by how everyone reacted on the enemy front and your own team; it'd probably end up in a fight. Just to be sure you took a step back, putting a bit of tension on the ropes. The moment one person gave the other a fist on the face, all hell broke loose. Everyone was too focused on the fight, you saw your chance to pry your hands out the rope and run for your life.

Just when you was about to turn a corner, you heard a male shouting: "We have a runner!". You knew this was going to be a long night, so you kept on running. Eventually you reached a dead end, standing between two tall buildings and a wooden fence. You knew going back was no option and certainly staying was no option either, so you did what seemed most logical and that was jump over the wooden fence. And holy fuck, that left your hand hurting a lot.

A quick scan of the area, you saw a door half-way open and you hoped by all the gods ever known to human kind, the door to the roof was open. Funnily enough, the door clicked close behind you so the enermy had less reason to search this building, they were probably dumb enough to think you took one of the alleyways.

So that's how you got here, okay so you lied a bit in the beginning; you knew how you got here in theory, but how will you find your way back to the camp?

Just a couple stories left to go, you can do this. With every breath you had, you almost reached the top of the staircase when you heard the giggling of a girl. "This is so goddamn stupid." The voice of a man sounded. "You laughed motherfucker." The girl said, which made you snicker in yourself. "I didn't laugh." The girl was out of breath from giggling you heard in the way she sounded when she said "Yes you did." With your hands raised up high, since you had no weapons because you lost them to the people from the trucks took them from you, you took some steps on the stair.

"Jesus, I'm losing it." Just a couple more steps, what were you gonna say? "You're losing it big time." The chuckles of both the girl and the male sounded through your head. You were now walking to the door with the broken window. They hadn't seen you, yet.

"Excuse me?" Your voice soft, yet drained of energy. The male grabbed his shotgun, pointed it at your head and the girl behind him, also with a gun pointed at you.

"Who are you?" The male asked, softly removing the safety with the sound of a click.

"I come in peace. Please don't shoot me. I just need a way out."

[delicate-luv]

Kiss The Cook ~ Eddie Munson

Summary: Eddie decides to take over and cook dinner to treat reader to a night off

CW: fluff, cheesy apron, burnt chicken, somewhat domestic vibes, no use of y/n, i think that’s all?

——————————————————————

You got home from a long and exhausting day at work, placing your bag on the table with a loud sigh. You didn’t get very far into the house before you smelled something. Taking a few more steps, you heard some sizzling sounds coming from the stove.

“Eddie? Baby, what’re you cooking?” You spoke up, following the smell of something cooking. He stood in the kitchen wearing nothing but black skinny jeans and an apron, concentrated as ever.

“Hey baby, Im giving you a night off.”, he smiled, his back turned to you as he was taking a spatula to a pan. “I noticed you’ve been so tired lately, let me take over dinner for one night.”

You nodded with a grin. coming up slowly behind him. You wrapped your arms around his waist. “Thank you, really.” You rested your head against his back. “So what’s for dinner, mister?”

“Chicken.” He said with a chuckle, not about to elaborate. “It’s the least I could do for my girl.”

You smiled, not wanting to crush his cute dreams of cooking you dinner. “I hate to break it to you honey, but chicken is easier to cook in the oven.”

“Aghh!”, he groaned. “I knew I was doing something wrong!” He flipped the chicken over and finally turned to look at you. “I don’t know how you do it, babe. You must have like magical hands- or something.”

“It’s all the practice from cooking for you all these years.” You joked, which he laughed at. You looked down at the apron and read to yourself what was across the front ‘Kiss The Cook’. You hummed to yourself, of course Eddie would be the one to own that apron.

“So, are you gonna do what the apron says or not?” Giving you a cheeky smile, his face turned a new shade a pink. You stared into each others eyes for what felt like eternity, but still wasn’t long enough.

“Eh, you’re lucky you’re cute.” You leaned in and gave him a kiss. Kissing Eddie was not a rare occurrence, but every time your lips met it sure did feel brand new.

The chicken on the stove started sizzling more aggressively than before, making you jump out of the kiss and point it out. “Ed’s, I think your chicken is burning.” You backed up a little bit to give him some space to salvage his chicken.

His eyes went wide as he turned to look at it, “oh, sh-shit, shit, shit!” The chicken was burnt to a crisp. He frantically tried to salvage what he could but ultimately had to dump most of it into the sink. “Fuck, shit.” He sighed under his breath, getting a disapproving look from you. “Sorry.”

You smiled, not wanting him to beat himself up over one single dinner gone to waste. “It’s alright Ed’s, it’s the thought that counts.” You whispered, leading him over to sit on the couch with you. “Hey, I still love you, chicken or no chicken.”

This comment made him crack a smile and he nudged your arm slightly. “I’m sorry, looks like we’re getting take out tonight.” He chuckled, walking over to the telephone. “Chinese good?”

[tsuki-sennin]

Deliciousmile~! ...hey wait a sec, that doesn't seem right. Well, y'know, what's a festival without food, eh? And, well, this is a very special watch for us today, y'know why? Why, because today is Inoue-sensei's birthday, of course~!

I don't exactly know how best to celebrate, but I do want to congratulate him for keeping Donbrothers as a non-stop banger of a season. Perhaps not the best we've ever had, but certainly not one I'd ever forget.

Now, enough delay! As they say in that other town with a Toei superhero team unified by a common theme, food brings smiles~! And it's the dog cooking, you know this'll be great~!

-Sonoshi will be back.

-Fancy eatin'...

-Flavoooooor!

-...are you some kinda circuit board?

-Oh dear god, she vores.

-Inoue what the fuck

-Have you been spending too much time on the internet again?

-Yeah, the Juto forest is... absolutely horrific, I don't blame Tsubasa for wanting out.

-"...can I go now? I wanna wash all this forest stink off of me."

-Freedoooooooom.

-Nice weather :)

-Dog go nyoom!

-There he is.

-Inuzuka-san!

-Oh hi Kijino.

-Are... you alright?

-"Okay I know I sold you out, but like... wanna go eat at a fancy restaurant with my wife?"

-"What the fuck, no."

-Tsubasa, this man who snitched on you is married to a doll and your first instinct is to hug him?

-Oh hey Rumi-chan! Jirou-kun!

-Byeeeeeee

-"My cringefail boyfriend is too pure to be alive."

-Dinner!

-Gotta say, big missed opportunity to have a ton of Hoka-Hoka Hearts everywhere.

-"Y-you can have her man, Jesus Christ calm down."

-Oh hey, the cat came back.

-I gotta ask Tiger Jirou, are you perhaps a Juuto in some way?

-Keep things professional with your editors, folks.

-Oh yeah, Sononi did shoot you down lmao

-Sorry Shinichi, she's got a point there

-Jesus Christ, we couldn't have ONE peaceful dinner, could we!

-Shaddap!

-That chef is about to kill a man.

-Ohhhh...

-Tsubasa, jkh,hlbl

-Shef Off

-"Wow! This reminds me of my imaginary food that I eat because money burns my skin off!"

-Hello food critic lady!

-Iida-sensei, okay!

-A cooking contest!

-Damn, a hundred million yen isn't even enough for this restaurant, huh?

-No wonder Tsubasa got all uppity.

-What is he cookin'?

-Tsubasa what the fuck why is the fugitive gene a thing

-Deliciousmile~!

-Pipipi~!

-"Good, but not award winning" is the highest praise I've ever heard Tarou give any food.

-Ingredient

-Mop those floors, Tsuyoshi!

-Retrieve Egg

-The remaining

-SONOI WHAT

-"Give me those fucking eggs. Sonoshi ate all my spare like the fucking gremlin they are, and I can't send someone to the store. Sonoza scares the cashier too much, and if you ask a condor-themed woman for eggs, she gives you a very strange look."

-I love this.

-Yeah good job fellas!

-A field of flowers~!

-Damn Haruka, you really drew that background in five seconds, huh?

-Oh god here she comes

-SHE ATE MY DOG

-What the fuck, Vore Dimension?

-Oh?

-OH FUCK

-Tsubasa, you don't just eat fruit you find in a random forest dimension!

-"Murasame! Let's cut them into sashimi!"

-Fruit~!

-Back off, everybody!

-Seiya Seiya!

-Nooooo, Murasame! Pick him up, Sonoza!

-Oh, good, we're not eating Helheim fruit. Good.

-OVERFLOWING?

-OH SHIT

-Recolor!

-"YOU ASSHOLES, I HAVE AN OMELET ON THE STOVE, IT'S GONNA BURN THE KITCHEN DOOOOOOOOOOWN-!"

-Wow, Tarou really said "A gold bird does the job just fine, unlike you Kijino."

-Poor Murasame.

-"Good job buddy."

-Fooooood~!

-Blue pasta!

-Iida-sensei's imagination is a good bit more professional, huh?

-Awwwww, Sonoi... :)

-Oh?

-Have a snacc, Tarou-san

-jklhkilh;k'

-Holy shit, Tarou

-Holy shit, Rumi's cooking must cure every disease ever if it's that good!

-M

-Miho-san.

-CRANE LADY????

-WHAAAAAAT

-WHY YOU BACK

-DONKILLER JKHLHJ'

-My god.

-Does this "button" just have an "Evil" setting you can press with all the sensitivity of a space bar?

-Oh well, this episode is either going to be peak comedy or absolutely horrifying. Or both. No in-betweens allowed here.

-Alright, let's pack it up folks, episode's done! We're done talkin' for today! Happy birthday again, Inoue-sensei!

[lenkusov]

Why I like kerosene heaters

So, like, this sounds kinda stupid and bass-ackwards of me to say, when we live in The Year of Our Lord 2024 and have fancy-schmancy mini-split heat-pumps and 90+ percent efficient condensing furnaces and shit, but hear me out alright

Think back to your high school physics class, alright? There's three different kinds of heat: Conduction (not applicable to space heaters), Convection (how pretty much everything that doesn't visibly glow works) and Radiation (basically, anything you can feel without moving air)

If you get one of the radiant-style kerosene heaters, either a reflector-type (Sengoku or Kero-Sun), or one of those mop-wick stove/heater combos (Butterfly or Fire Wheel) you get the best of both worlds

Fuel burning is always gonna make quite a bit of convection to heat the air in the room BUT you also get a fuckton of radiant heat to warm YOU up immediately, along with all the surfaces in the room over time - walls, floor, ceiling, furniture, etc. all become thermal mass

AND, in addition, kerosene heaters aren't vented, so the burning fuel puts a bunch of water vapor and humidity out into the air as well, which is INVISIBLE thermal mass in addition to the aforementioned mass of surfaces in your house

So, you can run that heater for a few hours in the evening when you're at home and awake and turn it off before bed, and the house will still be a reasonably comfortable temperature when you wake up, even when you have whatever secondary heat (in my case, electric baseboards that are EXPENSIVE AS FUCK to run much cause the kWh cost on our light bill sucks) turned way down

Add to that the fact that the extra humidity keeps my nose from getting PAINFULLY FUCKING DRY EVERY MORNING and the fact that I, personally, enjoy the faint smell of kerosene a LOT more than the smell of the cat's litterbox and the sink full of un-washed dishes and the pile of dirty socks, and you got yourself a winning combo

Oh, and you know the best part about the catalytic radiant-style heaters over the orange-flame or blue-flame convection ones?

THEY RUN ON DIESEL JUST FINE! In the US, since we switched to Ultra Low Sulfur pump diesel back in 2008, the winter-blend stuff that's high in the lighter hydrocarbons and paraffins burns perfectly clean in a radiant kerosene heater. Works fine in the antique blue-flame heaters too, but the orange-flame ones you get at Tractor Supply these days tend to smoke like crazy still, no clue why.

But whatever, my broke ass will DEFINITELY take $3.35 a gallon at the corner store's diesel pump over having to actually fire up the car and DRIVE to fill up my jerry can with $5/gallon kero at the Thornton's out by the expressway.

[cloudcountry]

ok ok OK OK. STAY FUCKING CALM. i had to chill the hell out before i read this so i could put my thoughts in order but i am CALM NOW.

i wrote so much shit omfg. hi post fic reading auburn here my state of mind has been permanently altered and i havent ever had breakfast yet. SOBS.

I JUST STARTED READING AND HOLY SHIT DID YOU BASE THIS OFF OF MY HATE RANTS BECAUSE THEYRE SO ME

Now you had to spend every day face to face with one of the most bothersome people at the school. You made your annoyance of him very clear, too. He was an anti-social shut in who somehow still thought himself better than everyone else despite being so pathetic he couldn't speak to someone face to face. How in the world was he supposed to be a talented mage?!

THAT WAS EXACTLY HOW I FELT ABOUT HIM LIKE A MONTH AND A HALF AGO IM SOBBING AND GIGGLING AND CRYING KAJWSGKJSGDFKSJDGHFHKSJDF THIS IS SO GREAT ALRADY

omg..........no because the self reflection and realization that hes not that bad is so perfect bc theyre still so STUBBORN about it. its like once you hate someone you dont just go back from that, even if you start to see the better sides of them after seeing their worst. this is so good JSHJAKHJKHSJAD

OH FUCK A GROUP PROJECT. DAMN. and reader spaced out so they dont have a partner BUT IDIA DOES?>?? and hes offering to share his notes......what is bro playing at...........

omggggggg this is so ME turning everything he does into something rude even though hes being nice THIS IS SO ME. IM IN PAIN. my younger self is haunting meeeee PLS HE JUST GAVE ME POTENTIAL PARTNERS AND IM JUST LIKE. GRRRRR I HATEYOU RAHHHHHH

CATER IS DOING THIS ON PURPOSE. stop why did i immediately think they were schemeing maybe the reader really is me. NO BUT I FEEL LIKE THEYRE TRYING TO SHOVE US TOGETHER. SOMETHING SMELLS FISHY

Not on your life, Shroud.

"Yeah, sure."

FU-

THIS EXCHANGE IS SO FUNNY IM CACKLING AKSJGWSJKFGJSHEF

no something is up.....bro would not step outside for no reason......

aww he bought them a drink :(( wait thats so sweet WHAT IS HE DOING WHAT IS HE SCHEMEING.

NO FUCKING WAY HES INVITING THEM TO A MOVIE?>?? HELLO???? THATS LIKE ASKING SOMEONE ON A DATE ?!?!??!?!?!?!??!

"because now you were walking down the street in the middle of a surprise spring heat spell returning from seeing a movie with your number one enemy ever."

MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

awww hes getting them a drink :(( me too i would also pass out from heat i would totally do that. THEYRE ME guys theyre me. HE GOT THE SAME DRINK THEY CHUGGED THE SHIT OUT OF AWW STOP HES SO SWEET..........

NOOOLOO SAJHHGSWEKWFIHGWSIUEFGOUEFOHUGBESGOUHGRWESGIUYBEDAFVOHIUGEADQFGIUOBESWDFGIYUGBAEQFIUGBHAEQFHOUEAFOHG8UFEADOH8IUFEADOHUAEDFZDGBOUIAKWFHBJHAEFVBIYGBQEAFIYGQAWFVBIGYQWEAFIYGAWDIGYBA HIS HAIR IS TURNING PINK OMFG KO ONE HIT SHOT IM DEAD IM GONE PINK HAIRED IDIA OMROFMOFGOMFGMOFMOFMOFGOMFGOMMOPFMOGMOFMOPGOMFOMGFOMFGOMMOGFMOGFOMFMOMOGFBMOFGMOGFGFOMGFRMOGJ CVASDEFSHYIGVBSADFCUOHIGBDFACEOUHBDASEFZCOUHEASDFZCVOLHIUSDFVZOLUIHWRSDFGOHUEWFRSGOHIUEFIYHAIYBDAEBIYUVDSAFIYGBEADFIYHBEADFVIHBYEFADIHBFEADVHIBEASDFGOHIBUFEADBOHEADFVBOUHGEADVHUOBGDFOUSHBFGVAEHBOUDSZVHUOBVDSBHOUEOSGRUHBHOUGSRBHORUSSRIGHUY

OMG THERE IT IS THE ONE SIDED HATRED. LOSER LOSER LOSER YOU COOKED YOU ATE YOU DID THE DISHES YOU SWEPT AND MOPPED THE KITCHEN FLOORS YOU DUSTED THE COUNTERS YOU GOT A NEW DISHWATER AND A NEW STOVE AND A NEW MICROWAVE IM LOSING MY FUCKING MIND I ACTUALLY HAD TO GET UP AND PACE AROUND MY ROOM FOR A LITTLE BIT BECAUSE HOLY SHIT THIS IS AMAZING IM DYING RIP DEAD

Though through starring at his face, admitting your difficulty in keeping up your one sided rivalry, and being exposed to what you now could only see as genuine acts of generosity and kindness you were hit with a very quick, and very mind shattering realization.

You had feelings for Idia Shroud.

DEATH COUNTER: 3 AORUOGUOEWDISKFYUJTHDVEJSRKJTUIFYRTUDTSEYHGCVJBKJNLTURHIYDSUJTCAVBHNKSFGJLDHTUORFSIYEACVJGHKGBFSLJNDOURSDIYEAVCJGHAKBFSJLGODURIDSYHAJUSGCVHBKGJLNOURIYEDUASTGCHVJHGBKJNDLUOREIFYDSUEVCJBHFKGJURIYFEUDTGSCJVHBKJIRTEYFEUDVJCGBHKGIYFUDAVGSCJHITYEGFUSJVD

him stepping out of his comfort zone for them im gonna SOBBBBBBBBBBBB OOURGOURGUOROFUGOUFGUOROURGOU

And a perfect follow up, from here there was no way for Idia to counter your counter of his counter of your attack. He would have to take the hit with at least 3 times the damage now.

THE GAMER LINGOOOOOOOO FUCK YEAAAAA

i keep reading like 38427 paragraphs and forgetting to tell you what i think oops

"Did, past tense, also the possibility I didn't and was just angry because I liked you, the human mind is difficult to comprehend."

if thats not the truest thing ever.............

MORE PINK HAIRED IDIA IM BEING SO SPOILED TODAY MY HEART IS RACING AT 827364827364 KILOMETERS PER HOUR WHAT THE FUCKKKK KASJHGDJHSGDS HEART ATTACK????HELOO DOCTOR I AM SUFFERING FROM S HROOUD ??!!!!

THE SHRIEKS LEAVING MY MOUTH OMFG THEYRE HOLDING HANDS KJSHJHDSGFJDSGDSFDSFGDFGHJSDGHJSGJHDFHJGFGDHJGFHJSDGHJSFDGHJSFGHJGHJFSGHJHJGFDHJGSHJFFDJSGHFSGJSFGJHD ofmgfogofgomgflfgomfknkhbgyjuftsedghd

loser..................lloSER. WHEN I GET YOU. WHEN I GET YOUF OR THIS.

HIHI OK SO LOSER. HERE ME OUT PLS. GIGGLES!!!

IF REQUESTS ARE OPEN WOULD YOU MIND. SPINNING A LIL ENEMIES TO LOVERS/FRIENDS DIDDY FOR IDIA SHROUD AND A GN READER. I WILL KISS THE GROUND YOU WALK ON I SWEAR THIS IDEA HASNT LEFT ME ALONE SINCE I STARTED LIKING HIM. ITS OK IF NOT THOUGH OBVI!! MAKE SURE U TAKE UR TIME BESTIE AND TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF <333

this is the silliest reader ive ever written

The most annoying thing about attending a prestigious academy is without a doubt, pride. The deadly sin curses every individual at NRC, all of them having been told that they are destined for greatness, fate being on their side.

This obviously leads to some of the most egotistical bastards this side of the Shaftlands being cooped up all together in the same space. Also at the age where the dumbest decisions of maintaining self confidence are made.

To you, one of the many young adults cursed with being a general annoyance was Idia Shroud. You also happened to be sat right next to him.

Funnily enough Ortho was able to convince his older brother to begin attending his classes in person, a thoughtful gesture to his brother, but not to you!

Now you had to spend every day face to face with one of the most bothersome people at the school. You made your annoyance of him very clear, too. He was an anti-social shut in who somehow still thought himself better than everyone else despite being so pathetic he couldn't speak to someone face to face. How in the world was he supposed to be a talented mage?!

The most annoying part of it all was ever since he had started going out of his comfort zone he had also seemingly started to become slightly less of an ass. It was unfair. People aren't allowed to just change out of nowhere when you hate them, you're supposed to hate them!

It didn't matter anyway, Idia Shroud hated you so you were allowed to hate him, even if you suddenly started to see that he was a troubled man, untrusting because the world had wronged him before. It didn't matter if he was simply confident because of his talent that was truly better than others, he was rude anyway.

Idia Shroud hated you, so you hated hi-

"Um, hey?" A soft voice came from your left.

"Hm?" You were so caught up in your annoyance you hadn't noticed your surroundings at all. The rest of the class had already left. And Trein too for some reason? "Crap I was not paying attention for the end of the lecture."

You had said it to yourself, but the firey haired boy with his hood pulled over his head responded anyway. "Ah, I uh... I could share my notes with you...?"

What.

"...Uh, yeah sure, thanks. That'd...that'd be helpful."

You stood up from your chair, still dazed at the peculiar situation you found yourself in. Idia tapped on his tablet a bit before your phone pinged in your pocket, a notification of a shared document bright on the screen. Since when did Idia Shroud have your number? And since when did he help out others for no reason?!

You opened the document to skim through it quickly when something near the bottom caught your eye. A small footnote about a project. A group project. A group project without pre assigned partners.

Ah, that's it.

Once again you were proven right, Idia Shroud being his typical self. He didn't speak to anyone in the class so it's inevitable he had no one to do the project with, and was sharing his notes to try and guilt you into doing it with him by making you feel in his debt-

"The uh, the project at the bottom is groups of two. I think some of the people in the row who sit behind us don't have partners yet." Idia held his tablet close to him, glancing at the door.

"You already have a partner?" Impossible, he was probably just saying that to make you to be the one to ask to be in his group, to safe himself the embarrassment of having to ask.

"Yeah, Cater had already asked me to join his group. He said Trey had grouped up before he could ask him. Well, uhm, I have to go. Uh- you- you can message me if you have questions about the notes!" Idia ran out the door before you could say anything.

...

WHAT.

Something about that made your blood boil. It wasn't jealousy though, it couldn't be. No, no it was disrespect! He said that to be condescending, to brag! To shove it in your face that even a shut in like him could join a group before you. That was his plan all along! To share his notes to get you to ask about the project just to laugh at you for trying to ask to join his group. Well the joke was on him, you'd never be his partner, group project or otherwise!

---

You weren't able to join a group. Stupid Idia Shroud neglected to tell you that those 'people in the row who sit behind us who have partners' joined up outside of class time. And then he had the gall to apologize about you not joining a group as if he hadn't totally 100% planned this.

Suffering was endless and you were ready to give up. That was until Cater Diamond came waltzing up to your row, passing by you to talk to Idia.

"Change of plans, sorry Idia, Trey's partner joined a different group so I'm gonna work with him now. Good luck on the project!"

"Huh?! Wha-?! Cater, wait-!" Idia stared in dumbfounded shock as Cater skipped away leaving both you and Idia groupless. Well at least Idia was just as pathetic as you now.

Idia turned toward you after a moment. "Uh, did you want to be group partners...? Since...since neither of us have anyone to work with?"

Not on your life, Shroud.

"Yeah, sure."

FU-

Truthfully this was the best situation with the cards you had been dealt, likely you could get him to do any of the work you didn't want to, and you'd get a good grade with him as your partner. Doesn't mean you liked the situation, but still.

"Ah, there's a relatively new cafe nearby we could work at? It- it could be better than working in any of the dorms. If you want." Idia shifted a bit, and you couldn't tell what his goal with this was. Was he planning to force you to pay or something? Suggesting leaving and going anywhere was very unlike him. Something had to be up.

---

Eventually the two of you did go to the cafe to work on your project, and when you insisted on not getting anything and just focusing on working Idia bought you a drink anyway.

"I said I didn't want anything?" You pushed the cup away an inch, the drink was colorful, fading from a deep blue at the top to a light pink at the bottom. You weren't sure what flavor it could be.

Idia drank out of his own cup, a bright red drink that looked fizzier than your own. He added something to your project on his tablet at the same time. "I know but I, uhm, I felt uncomfortable being the only one with a drink. You don't have to drink it, just keep it in front of you." Idia paused a moment before adding a rushed "please" at the end.

So you did. For maybe a minute before you couldn't help taking a sip. It was fruitier tasting than you expected, but not citrus or sour. You pulled the cup toward you to move the straw from the pink section to the blue, noticing that the darker color tasted more like some berry you couldn't pinpoint than the pink had. Overall it tasted good. So good, in fact, you drank almost half of it before you remembered you were supposed to be working.

You glanced up at Idia to see if he had noticed you absolutely chugging whatever drink it was he had gotten you, but either he was pretending he hadn't, or he was really into this project. You noticed only a small amount had been drank from Idia's cup.

You were about to say something until you decided that if Idia wanted to waste his own drink, and his own money, than so be it. And with that you stuck your head back down to finish up this project and finally be rid of having to converse with the shut in outside of class hours.

---

Sure enough your project raked in a well needed high grade, even going so far as to be personally complimented by Trein himself. You figured that'd be the end of having to talk to Idia Shroud but Seven forbid because the universe had other plans for you.

'Would you like to go see a movie'

That wasn't exactly the way he had said it, it was a lot more unconfident, and there were a few pauses halfway through, but in the end phrasing didn't matter because now you were walking down the street in the middle of a surprise spring heat spell returning from seeing a movie with your number one enemy ever. It was a good movie too which made you even more mad. Now you'd have to think of him every time you saw it which is not what you wanted to happen.

"I am about to pass out from this heat. I'm sitting down a moment." You quickly flopped down on the nearest bench, fanning yourself with your hand. "How in the world are you not burning up in that hood, Shroud?"

Idia shrugged, slowly stepping away from where you were sitting. "I'll get you a drink, wait here."

"Huh, wha?" Once again Idia had left you before you could argue. He had paid for you guys to go to the movie, refusing to accept you paying him back much to your annoyance. You didn't want to be any more in his debt than you already were. You looked down, attempting to form at least a small shadow over your face, at the price of your neck, when a cold cup lightly touched the side of your face.

You jumped a moment before realizing it was Idia, and took the cup with a small 'thank you'. Once you looked at the cup properly you recognized the blue and pink colors of the cold drink, which felt particularly nice in your hands. You hadn't realized the two of you were near that cafe again, much less that they made drinks to-go.

"You, uh, you seemed to like it last time so I figured it was better to get you something I knew you'd enjoy." Idia's fingers played with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, as he glanced in every direction except for you. You looked back down at the drink again, noticing a small resemblance between the light pink if the drink and a light pink dusting the ends of Idia's bright hair.

"Stop being nice, I'm supposed to hate you." You couldn't stop yourself before you blurted out words without thinking, but you quickly caught yourself just a moment too late, slapping a hand across your mouth in shock of your own harshness.

"Huh-! I- what!?" Idia looked just as confused and shocked as anyone would, which made you rethink if he ever actually disliked you as much as you had thought. He quickly shook off his surprised state and gave you probably the most sarcastic look you had seen from him in weeks. "If you hate me why did you agree to be here...?"

"Ah...I dunno." The both of you stared at each other, growing more confused by the second. You couldn't explain your strange decisions and thought process even to yourself, let alone another person.

Though through starring at his face, admitting your difficulty in keeping up your one sided rivalry, and being exposed to what you now could only see as genuine acts of generosity and kindness you were hit with a very quick, and very mind shattering realization.

You had feelings for Idia Shroud.

Romantic ones. You thought they were hatred but no, thinking now you found certain aspects of him so endearing it made you angry in cuteness aggression. This asshole actually had the capacity to be very nice and kind and helpful and it was so charming it made you want to smack your head into a wall from overstimulation of good feelings.

Wait-

You had just went to the movies with him, where he paid, and now he just got you a drink from a cafe the two of you had already went to together. Activities that required exiting Idia's comfort zone for extended periods of time.

You couldn't help yourself, you had to ask. "Is this a date?" You almost shouted the question at him upon considering the possibility, and you half believed Idia was about to run away with how loud and generally chaotic you were currently being in your extremely confused state.

"Huh!? A- a wha-!?" Idia was giving you the same look you were giving him now both of you more confused than ever. This was definitely quite the confrontation.

"A date! Is it!? I mean it feels like it!" You set your drink down on the bench to stand up. You hadn't even gotten to take a sip yet, but there were more pressing matters.

Idia stuttered a moment longer, before falling silent and seemingly considering your question. "Did, did you want it to be?"

Ah, a counter. You could play this game. "Did you? You're the one who asked me to go see a movie with you."

And a perfect follow up, from here there was no way for Idia to counter your counter of his counter of your attack. He would have to take the hit with at least 3 times the damage now.

And he definitely knew, his eyes squinted in slight annoyance as he considered his answer, finally admitting defeat with a sigh. "Uh," he looked away from you, "sort of? I mean. I'd like that, but...but I'm sure you wouldn't so it's fine, it's nothing."

You were hit with another wave of shock, despite prodding him with the question expecting this exact answer. You quickly responded before he could continue to convince himself you wouldn't return his feelings.

"I'd like it to be a date too!" You stepped forward, reaching to grab his hand before hesitating. He might have wanted to be on a date with you, but that didn't mean he'd be comfortable with you touching him.

"I- you- uh- I thought you hated me?"

"Did, past tense, also the possibility I didn't and was just angry because I liked you, the human mind is difficult to comprehend." You waved your hand as though you could physically wave away his doubts with more than just your roundabout answers to his very solid questions. Despite this you watched as he let out a small laugh, causing you to crack a grin yourself.

You picked up your drink, looking at the horizon as the sun started to set, painting the sky in pinks and oranges that made the street extremely pretty, and drew out the blue of Idias fiery hair, painted with more pink than earlier.

A silent invitation to continue heading back to campus, the two of you began to walk, before Idia hesitantly slipped his hand in your own, intertwining your fingers with his.

"Did- did you want to go on another date next week?" Idia couldn't keep a straight face, failing to hide an excited grin as he asked his question.

You responded with the most sure and prideful answer you had that day. "Yes, definitely."

[volleychumps]

Heyy! Can you do one where Osamu, kuroo, akaashi and Tsukishima, say something mean to their s/o and their s/o avoids them for days? When they finally get ahold of their s/o, their s/o just sorta cries because it hit their insecure spot? Fluff in the end🥺

Listen, I can’t not write this. 

Irrevocable Words. 

- the one in which they accidentally make you give them the silent treatment because of their lashing out. -

~ Osamu Miya, Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji, and Tsukishima Kei~ 

TW: Cursing, angst to fluff, timeskip! for Osamu, 

------------------

Osamu Miya

“Those are important files, ya know?” 

“Samu, I’m sorry. You should’ve told me you needed last month’s earnings and I would’ve looked for them before we came this morning.” The hand you tried to settle onto Osamu’s bicep was shaken off as your movements faltered. 

Your voice wobbled at the sight of your stoic fiance, an annoyed glint in his eye as he rummages through his files. Osamu felt a flare in his stomach, a lack of sleep contributing to his impatient state. The day had been a busy one, Osamu deciding that he needed this particular file for his business call tomorrow before the two of you headed home for the night. 

“I told ya not to move anything back to the place.”

“I didn’t.” You bit the inside of your cheek. “Here, just let me help-” 

“Don’t touch a goddamn thing, I’ll do it myself.” There it was. The lashing out that was bound to happen occurred with a pointed tongue as he refused to look at you, rummaging through his file cabinets. “As I do everything else.” 

He closes the cabinet sharply. “The least ya could do is try your best not to be a nuisance-” 

Osamu flinches at the slam of one of the office desk drawers, chest sinking when he sees the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. The paper he needed is thrown on the desk carelessly as you shove your jacket on, wetness slipping down your cheeks.

“And I’m not your goddamn secretary. I’m heading home first.” 

“Y/N-” 

“And don’t worry, I promise I’ll manage to do this by myself somehow.” Your voice cracks bitterly, the bell by the door jingling mockingly in Osamu’s ears as you exit, the chef hanging his head with a sigh and regret tinging his chest.

He was wrong to pray this would blow over, not expecting to wake without your warmth by his side. You avoided him on the way to the restaurant, cleaning quietly while giving vague answers to his questions, shifting out of his attempts to embrace you with apologies. 

Deciding to give you space, he softly tells you to take the next few days off, unprepared for the tired look you had given him, simply nodding in response as you slipped into your side of the bed with your back turned to him.

“Where’s your pretty girlfriend?” 

“Fiance.” Osamu forces a smile at his two elderly regulars two days later, the wife’s smile widening at his correction. 

“Oho! Cherish each other while you youths still can, she really does brighten this place up, doesn’t she?” 

You do.

Osamu’s eyes feel hot as he does a messy job of cleaning up the restaurant, closing up shop early and stopping by your favorite bakery to pick up the ridiculously expensive cake he only ever buys for your birthday. 

Throwing the door open to your shared apartment hastily, you gasp at the gray-haired man’s sudden entry, dropping the spoon you were about to use to taste the dish you were making on the stove.

“Samu, y-you’re home early-” 

“What’s all this?” He tries to steady his breaths at the sight of a nicely prepared table, something you hardly ever got to share ever since the night shifts overtook your lives and caused a rift between the two of you. 

You’re silent for a second, looking away from his warm stare as you shift under his gaze. 

“...I miss you.” Dark eyes widen when you begin to hiccup over your words, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “But I didn’t wanna be a nusciance-”

“Oh god, darlin’ no.” You’re pulled tightly into his chest as you cry, whole body shaking with tremors as Osamu’s inner turmoil merely increases.

If Osamu could go back in time and punch himself he would, unknowing of the torment he caused you over the past few days, thinking you just needed space. 

“I want to marry ya Y/N, I’m so sorry.” 

“I love you so much Samu.” You sniffle into his chest, causing him to smile softly, a hand sifting through your hair to hold you tighter to him. 

“I brought cake.” 

You laugh through the onslaught of tears. 

“And I made dinner.” 

“Then what are we waitin’ for?” 

“Just hold me like this for awhile?”

“Y/N.” He kisses the top of your head, finally feeling at ease with your figure in his arms. Osamu whispers a confession he hardly shared with you, wanting those words in particular to be special as he bridged the gap between the two of you.

“I love ya so much more, don’t you go forgettin’ it.”

Kuroo Tetsurou

“I said I was sorry!” 

“Is sorry supposed to just fix everything, Tetsurou?” 

“Tetsurou? Are you seriously withholding me from my nickname privileges?” 

You cross your arms at his attempt to make you laugh, thoroughly angry with the mess your boyfriend made of things as his smile fades at your peeved stare. 

“Look, what was I supposed to do?” 

“How about not leaving my parents waiting for you at the restaurant that you invited them to for another one of your spontaneous volleyball practices?” 

“I texted you I had to cancel!” 

“That was a half hour before we were supposed to meet, Kuroo! They were so excited to meet you they got there early. God, why can’t you ever take things seriously?” 

“You’re right.” A bitter chuckle slips Kuroo’s lips as you falter at the sudden tone change, the volleyball gym seeming bigger than ever as his next sentence makes your lips tremble.

“Since I can’t ever take things seriously, then I must not need my serious girlfriend then, right?” Your eyes widen. “I can just find somebody else who won’t fucking hound me all the time.”

His cat-like eyes widen as the words slip his tongue, unintentionally coming out crueler than he intended. To make it worse, you simply stayed silent, your body physically backing down and away from him as you turned on your heel. 

“Wait, I didn’t-” 

“Do it then.” His chest just about shatters as your shoulders tremble, refusing to turn back around as your voice takes on an uncharasterically defeated tone. “I hope they make you fucking happy.” 

Kuroo runs a hand through his raven hair frustratedly at the way you rushed out of the gym, throwing a stray ball so hard at the wall before his vision becomes skewed with heat. 

He should have expected the next week to be utter hell. You left class before he could catch you by escaping to the bathroom with all your things, leaving school another way instead of the exit you always took together before he had to start club activities. 

“Kenma, what are you doing?” 

“You can’t come in here.” 

“I’m missing class for this. Let me through.” 

“She doesn’t want to see you.” Kenma shrugged, eyes on his handheld. “I told her I’d watch the door so you can’t surprise her during our breaktime.” 

“I’m her boyfriend. And you’re not her guarddog.” 

“No, I’m her friend.” Kenma’s eyes narrow at his childhood friend. “And last time I checked, you’re on the search for someone who isn’t her.” 

“So she told you.” 

“Dick move, by the way.” 

Kuroo’s calls go straight to voicemail, his emotions affecting his playing with each passing day. He leaves little notes in your shoe locker to meet him, heart sinking more and more with every time you stood him up. 

And it wasn’t until he saw you smiling again at a joke Yaku made that he truly felt like he was losing you. 

“Go home.” 

The sight wasn’t one you were expecting to see, Kuroo sitting on the steps to your house with his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, the dark bags under his eyes sparking worry within you. 

“It’s probably better if my parents don’t see you-” 

“I’m sorry.” His eyes seem to have lost a little of their glint, regret swimming in the tall boy’s pupils as your guard softens. “I’m so goddamn sorry I ran my mouth and said shit I didn’t even mean-” 

“Tetsurou-” 

“And I hurt you in the process. I hurt the one thing that matters to me the most, and I’m sitting here playing the creepy ex that stalks the girl he loves-” 

“You love me?”

“Doesn’t matter, does it? You’re done with me, and I deserve it-” 

He’s cut off with the sight of tears hitting the wood in front of him, lifting his head to see tears streaking down your cheeks. On instinct, he reaches out softly, rising to his feet to cup your cheek, astonished when you curl into his touch. 

“I’m so fucking mad at you right now.” 

“Noted.” Kuroo laughs somberly, a wave of emotion hitting him as you do something you hadn’t done in days. 

You look him in the eye, tugging him closer by the sides of his jacket. 

“But I love you too, you absolute idiot.” 

Kuroo grins into the kiss you press onto his lips, heart lifting in weight as he pulls you closer. 

“Does this mean we can go back to Tetsu?” 

“I’m going back to ignoring you-” 

“No.” Kuroo’s tone turns serious as he holds you a little tighter. “I can’t do that again.” 

You smile as he presses a kiss to your temple lovingly. 

“Being away from you was complete and utter hell, sweetheart.” 

Akaashi Keiji

“Tell me how to make this right.”

“Right, Y/N.” Akaashi refused to meet your eyes as he loosens his school tie, not slowing his pace for you to catch up with as he throws the doors open to the volleyball club. The usually put-together setter had an angry glint in his eye that silenced his awaiting teammates. “Let’s just go back in time before you agreed to be his partner.”

“Hey hey, what’s going on you two?” Bokuto jogs up, his worried tone making your lips tremble even more at the sight of Akaashi’s turned back.

“I came to you as soon as he made a move! I didn’t let him-”

“There shouldn’t have been an opportunity for him to make a move in the first place.” Akaashi’s jaw clenched as you shuffle in place.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, you think I wanted him to try to kiss me?!” You fight the waver in your voice, standing your ground. “It was a project for class. I didn’t know his intentions-“

“I told you what his intentions were, but you never listen.” Akaashi turns hastily, startling you and causing you to stumble slightly backwards into Bokuto.

“Akaashi-“

“Stop defending her. She never listens to me, and then comes crying to me when it turns out I’m right.” Akaashi snips at his best friend, ignoring the silent stares from his quiet teammates. “Why can’t you get it through your head, Y/N? I’m not your goddamn babysitter-“

“You’re right.” You interrupt, fingernails biting into your palms as you choke back a sob. “You’re not, you’re my boyfriend. I just wanted to respect you by coming to you with something like this, but it turns out I’m just a hinderance.”

Akaashi falters for a second, blue eyes widening a fraction at the angry heat that fills your eyes as regret begins to bubble in his stomach at his harsh words.

“Y/N-“

“Give me some space, Keiji.” You say softly, patting Bokuto’s arm to let you through as your shoulders sink in a defeated manner. “I promise I won’t come crying to you about anything else.”

Your steps echo as you walk out of the gym, Konoha breaking the silence first when the door shuts behind you.

“Hate to say it, but that was well-deserved, man.”

Akaashi closes his eyes, head falling back towards the ceiling as he tries to steady his breathing, pretending like he wasn’t scared of you slipping through his fingers. He willed himself to not allow himself to chase after you, his anger directed towards you fading as he forces himself to respect your wishes. 

It was obvious you were avoiding him. Akaashi had blinked when Bokuto had self-proclaimed that he needed you as his “study buddy” during breaks when you weren’t even in the same year as the owlish boy. It got worse when you seemed to panic when Akaashi willed you to talk to him, eyes refusing to meet his watery blue ones as you pushed him further away.

So he gave you your space, wilting with each passing day. It wasn’t until he accidentally bumped into you a week later, the setter turning hastily on his heel to walk in the opposite direction before a soft tug on the back of his school shirt wills him to stop. 

“Keiji.” Your wobbly voice makes him turn back around immediately, a soft palm already cupping your cheek gently. “I’m s-” 

“I’m sorry for being cruel.” The words are whispered against your forehead, Akaashi’s heartstrings tugging in the worst way possible. “I was angry at the situation, my love. And that sorry excuse you call a classmate. Please,” 

His grip tightens just a little more as he feels wet warmth drip into the palm that was cupping your face.

“Forgive me.” 

“I told you I wouldn’t come crying to you-” 

“I want it all, Y/N.” Akaashi pulls back slightly, voice cracking slightly as blue stares intensely into your irises. “I want all of you. Tears included.”

You swat his chest playfully as Akaashi manages a soft smile, hand threaded through your hair as he presses you against his chest.

“Do you still need space?” He murmurs, and you smile at the sound of his hearbeat picking up as he awaited your answer fearfully. 

“Nope. The exact opposite, please hold me?” 

His embrace relaxes immediately, and your heart skips a beat at the sound of his relieved sigh, his slight nod making the weight lift off your chest. 

“Good, now I can take care of your classmate-” 

“Keiji-”

“Nope, my love.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, Akaashi’s eyes swirling with devotion. 

“No one gets to try anything with you so long as you’re safe with me.” 

Tsukishima Kei 

“So I’m the bad guy again.” 

“Do you want the honest answer, Kei?” You exhaustedly run a hand through your hair as Tsukishima’s scowl deepens, his long legs easily catching up with you in stride as he tugs on your wrist as the rambunctious court gets further and further away. 

“It’s not my fault you’re insecure.” 

You flinch. “Well maybe you shouldn’t let the girls in the stands cling to you after your matches. They were all over you, Tsukki! And you didn’t seem to mind it one bit.” 

“What?” Annoyance brims the blonde’s voice as he takes another step forward, clenching his jaw when he sees the quiver in your lip, distrust filling the atmosphere between the two of you. 

“Afraid that they’re prettier or better than you’ll ever be?” 

You feel as if the wind was knocked out of your lungs, breath catching in your throat at his insinuation. His guard slackens almost immediately, clicking his tongue before turning away, too proud to apologize for the words he regretted as soon as they slipped his tongue like venom. 

“Yeah.” You laugh humorlessly, making brown eyes dart over to your expression immediately. “You’re 100% correct. I am afraid you’ll find someone better than me in all aspects. Because I love you, you absolute asshole. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

The silence that befalls the two of you in the deserted hall is broken when you flinch away when Tsukishima tries to take a step towards you. 

“I didn’t-” 

“You never mean to do anything, Kei.” You say in a hushed tone, turning your back on him in an attempt to shield the hot tears slipping down your cheeks. “But you somehow always manage to.” 

The win for Karasuno didn’t mean much to the blonde that night, hoping that this would just go away and things would be back to normal. However, it was anything but. You didn’t look his way once in class, disappearing when it was over. Your voice trembled as you had avoided his seemingly stoic eyes through his frames, simply stating that you wished for some time away from him. 

He was fine. Or at least pretending to be on the outside. In truth, he would never find better, because you were it for him, words that you would never catch slipping his mouth. So he put on a front, pretending that your absence had zero effect on him whatsoever. Pretending the brush of your body against him in the hall as you pass each other didn’t make the blonde want to cave. 

It was the smile you shot at Hinata during one of your breaks that caused him to. The first glint in your eye in awhile, and it had been caused by him of all people, prompting the tall middle blocker to tug you by the forearm into the corridor.

“Tsukishima-” 

“I hate this.” 

You falter for a second, guard back up in a flash as your back touches the wall. “What did I do?” 

“You didn’t do anything, and it’s pissing me off.” 

“I don’t follow-” 

“I was wrong.” His forehead touches your shoulder as you stiffen before relaxing against his familiar touch. “I don’t care how many times I have to apologize. You win, okay? I’m sorry.” 

“This is a rather aggressive apology-” 

“Y/N.” Tsukishima lifts his head so it’s level with your height, unprepared for the way tears brimmed your eyes at the proximity, your guard diminishing. 

“What if you do find someone better one day, Tsukki?” Your voice cracks, inner fears trickling to the surface. “Do I need to prepare myself to lose you-?” 

You gasp as Tsukishima’s jaw ticks before kissing you intensely, his hand touching your lower back to pull you closer. 

“No. You don’t need to do something stupid like that.” His eyes were slightly glaring at you, a flush across both his cheeks. “Because there is no one better than you, okay?” 

It was your turn for heat to flood your cheeks as your eyes widen a fraction, his breath tickling your ear as you stutter. “Kei-” 

“I love you too. I said it, are you satisfied now?”  

---------------------------------------------------------

General works: @takemetovalhalla  @faesbae  @savemesteeb @dreebbles @yams046   @let-me-have-my-own-name  @deadontheinsidebut @lifeisntjustblackandwhite   @curiouslilbeast  @aprettyfruit   @wisepandaslimeland   @h0ngh0ngh0ng   @lmkjimin   @orangegiraffe7   @dai-tsukki-desu   @kac-chowsballs   @spikertrash   @yamaguwuchi   @lord-suneater-explosion   @holaaaf  @babyybokutoakaashi   @lexysclubhouse   @disneyloving-muggle   @kuuuuroo   @theonep1ece  @that-chick212  @mjoork

[lavenderbexlatte]

day 5 - size kink

nct 1.4k words female reader insert Reader x Johnny Suh NSFW

🖤 warnings: johnny suh is very annoying but he has an undeniably big dick, friends to lovers scenario, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, a bit of a pain kink 🖤

kinktober masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

"Oh, no, I'll get it."

He's such an ass.

You love Johnny, don't get it twisted. He's a great friend, a ride or die, an equal opportunity drinking buddy and museum date and wingman. Not the kind of guy you ever thought you'd be friends with, but he's such a feature in your life now, you can't remember what you did before you had him to hang out with at all hours.

Except when he's like this.

"I can reach," you dismiss.

"But it's so much easier for me," he says coolly.

He reaches over your head to grab the bottle on the top shelf of your kitchen cabinet, easily, barely stretching, and holds it out to you with the worst self-satisfied look on his face.

You're not that short. You're really not, it's just that Johnny is so fucking tall. He swears he's only six-foot, but that's impossible. Six-two, you'd guess, or more.

He's just big. Overall. Especially when he's interested in bulking up, like he is now, no hint of the tall and lanky frame he'd had up until just a few years ago (and that he quickly returns to having in the occasional months when work takes over his mind and he neglects the gym and the protein powder). At times like this, he's tall, he's broad, and you can tell just from how he carries himself that he's more aware than ever of just how big he is.

For a guy who likes to slouch and shrink and practically lay down in every chair, he's just big.

"Did I ask for your help?" you snark.

"You didn't need to," he replies. "I have to use my powers for good."

"Busybody."

"I just wanna take care of you," he coos, ruffling the top of your head.

You shove him away. "Like I said, didn't ask."

The tiny kitchen in your apartment is small enough that you're constantly bumping into Johnny if he comes over to cook with you, but now he's getting into your space on purpose. You can tell, by the way he's reaching over your shoulder to grab utensils, looming behind you to watch the dish in the pot you're finishing up. You shouldn't have reacted so much. Giving him a reaction only eggs him on more, because he's the worst.

It's just Johnny, boxing you in to piss you off, but a feeling that you've never wanted to associate with Johnny is brewing every time he draws too close.

You're not really short, but that's not to say that you don't like feeling short. Small. Easy to toss around, easy to-

"'Scuse me," Johnny says, not apologetic at all, as he reaches for the cupboard again.

Annoyed, you turn around to push him again, but he's so close that you've essentially turned yourself right into his arms, your face nearly meeting his chest. His face is right above you as he reaches upward, and he smirks.

There's no ulterior motive, you can tell. He's just trying to bother you, pushing your buttons about being smaller than him and unable to reach some shelves in your own kitchen. Johnny is your friend, one of your best friends, and there's no way he's doing this on purpose.

But that doesn't change the fact that you are just the tiniest bit undeniably turned on. A tiny bit.

Or more than that. Maybe a lot more than that.

It's not that it's Johnny, you tell yourself. It's that he's so much bigger than you. That fact itself is punching you in the feral brain, making you react as if this is a real person and not Johnny. He leans down farther, looking just a bit confused. You're probably making an audacious face.

"Something wrong?" he asks.

You can practically feel his voice vibrating up from his chest. Oh, this is bad.

"No," you say, entirely unconvincing.

Johnny huffs out a laugh and backs off slightly, reaching to turn off the stove burner. He can reach it from here. This is so bad.

"Cuz you look like you're gonna be sick," he says, obviously amused.

"It's just hot in here," you lie.

"No, it's not. I'm chilly, actually," Johnny says, edging closer to you again. "Gotta share body heat."

"Johnny!"

He's pressing you against the counter, now, stretching to his full height. You can't help but feel bad, guilty even, about the arousal pealing through you, since he's so obviously just being a pain, just messing around-

Until he shifts, just a little, and you feel it.

He's hard. He likes this just as much as you do. Oh, no-

You freeze. His eyes blow wide.

And he backs up for real, draws away quickly. "Sorry. I know you don't like being called short, I got carried away-"

"I do like it," you say, mouth moving faster than your good sense, scrabbling for his arm to drag him close again. "I like it when - sometimes if I-"

He cuts you off. "Are you gonna kick my ass if I kiss you?"

It's a valid question, because he's drunkenly kissed you without permission maybe twice and both times you smacked him so hard that it left a mark, but things are different, here.

"Nope."

"Good."

Kissing Johnny is a strange experience, but you don't hate it. His lips are hesitant, but his hands are eager, exploring your waist, your hips, straying to grope your ass so quickly that you wonder how long he's wanted to do it.

"Horny bastard," you mutter.

"Could say the same thing about you," he replies.

He's got a loose grip at the back of your neck, and you shudder realizing how much of your skin he can cover with just one splayed hand. He notices, too, if the way he tightens up his hold is any indication. You're foggy with arousal, looking up, up at Johnny, thinking about what more he could do for you, what it would be like to only be able to see and hear and feel him...

"You really like this," he muses, obviously thinking hard despite the circumstances. "If your thing is tall guys, what about that last one you dated, the one-"

"It's not just about height," you say. "Big guys, sure, but also big-"

"Oh, you're covered, then," he interrupts.

Typical Johnny. Such an ass.

"Impress me," you quip.

He's hauling you toward the bedroom faster than you can react. You'd never seen yourself as particularly easy to haul or carry or anything of the sort, but Johnny's apparently got the height and the muscle to do just that, maneuvering you easily into your equally-tiny bedroom and depositing you on your bed.

There's no hesitation as Johnny presses you up the bed until you're laying comfortably in your pillows, with him looming above you. He probably assumes - correctly - that you'd stop him if you didn't like something.

But you have no intention of stopping him.

He shucks off his shirt, and there's just so much of him, planes of tanned skin and muscle. He makes quick work of your clothes, and the rest of his own. You find out pretty quickly that he wasn't lying about having you covered, intimately - he's big. Proportional to his body, yes, but that means he's simply big.

"I've wanted this for a while," Johnny admits, tracing his hand down your bare side.

"Secretly pining away?" you tease.

He grins, lopsided. "More like, you're cool and hot and I figured this would be fun."

It's not a love confession, but it's almost better. Assurance that this is being done out of fondness and excitement, not some kind of one-sided romantic urge.

"I'm ready for you," you say.

Johnny makes a bit of a face, reaching down to tentatively swipe his fingers through your wetness, which, like you'd just fucking said, is plenty enough for what you want.

"I should probably make sure-"

"I like it if you just..." you gesture, embarrassed, unsure how to say nicely what you mean, "It's...it's okay if it hurts, a little."

You like to really feel that first push in, is what you mean. What fun is fucking someone with an objectively huge cock if you don't even get stretched out on it to the point of a little pain, sometimes?

He seems to understand without you saying all of that, though, grinning down at you darkly and lining himself up. "Tell me if you need me to stop."

"Get on with it - Jesus-"

He always has to get the last word in, even indirectly like this, as you cut yourself off with a hissed breath as he begins easing his way in. Just the first stretch of his tip is heavenly, exactly what you want, a bit of a delicious burn.

You know you're in for it when Johnny smiles for real. He knows what he's doing, the stupid prick.

"How's a little thing like you gonna handle me?"

[oomisluvr]

SUNDAY CANDY (I’VE BEEN PRAYING FOR YA’)

synopsis: one should not attend the end of the world without a good breakfast. thankfully, its just sunday.

warnings: exactly one (1) swear, mentions of food, sfw!

It was a simple spread, according to Kiyoomi.

Vibrant strawberry jam filling the airy pockets of fresh ciabatta, smothered in dandelion-yellow butter and warmed comfortably. Fluffy eggs sprinkled with fragrant black pepper and fat flakes of himalayan salt, dazzled with parsley and green onions cut from the small windowsill garden. Rows of thick, fatty slices of bacon; crispy on the edges but softened everywhere else. Orange juice so bright it mimics the sun, thin pieces of pulp dancing alongside the cool ice chips.

You think you might cry.

Sakusa floats around the kitchen, his shirtless torso pressed against the cool granite counter as he mixes ingredients in a pale plastic bowl, flannel pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He hears you before he sees you, throwing a look over his shoulder to take in your appearance, his face softening into something that looks a lot like love.

“Good morning,” He hums by way of greeting, “Rest well?”

“How could I not?” You joke, tossing yourself onto the counter stools and swiveling around just because you can, “Your thread count is in the millions. Where are your sheets from? Dubai? Honduras? Fucking Mars?”

“Egypt, actually. And they’re only a 1500 thread count.” He corrects playfully, breathing out a quiet laugh, “But I’ll take the compliment, I’m glad you slept well.”

“Only a 1500 thread count.” You mutter to yourself, toying with the hem of your faded club shorts you’ve had for years, “Practice today?”

“Hmm? Oh, no, not today. Meian’s letting us have the day off.“ He says, idly scratching an itch on his torso, a gentle smile pushing the apples of his cheeks, “Just us today.”

Between the two of you, quality time is worth more than gold. Breakfast, especially, has become a ritual of sorts. And Sunday brunch is always holy. You hum sleepily, happily, thinking of all the tasks you won't do today. You watch him shelter the food from your prying eyes, and you nearly call him out for it. He acts like you can’t smell the flavor profiles of every individual dish; like the pile of dishes in the sink and colorful spices on the countertop aren’t giving away his not-so-secret recipes.

“What’s for breakfast?” You say instead, just to make him happy.

“It’s a surprise,” He grins, flour dried across his cheek like a phantom kiss, “But I’m almost done.”

It continues like this. Him defending the food as you try and knab a bite. Lazily waving around the hard plastic spatula as he talks, and ignoring the speck of egg that flies off to save himself the embarrassment. Playfully flirting with him as he tries not to lose focus. 

“Close your eyes,” He whispers, as he flicks off the gas stove, “Food’s ready.”

You push your hands over your eyes, spreading your fingers to take peaks at him. He plates your food, heaping portions that nearly topple off the plate. You grin, promising yourself to finish it all. 

At one point, his eyes meet yours and you snap your fingers shut with a squeak. Whoops. He laughs, and you both pretend you weren't peaking. 

“Okay, open your eyes now.” He mumbles, wiping his hands on a dish towel, “And tell me what you think.”

Removing your hands from your eyes, you gaze down at the plate below you. It’s a confession, a declaration of love. All of it.

A heavy porcelain plate, a housewarming gift you gave him when the two of you were just friends. The edge is chipped from dropping it in the sink one too many times. The memory makes you feel warm.

The food itself is plated with enough space between each dish that it doesn’t touch, remembering your disdain for mixed textures. You never mentioned anything, but he picked up on it.

Your favorite fork, one of the prongs bent a bit abnormally. You joke that the weight of the metal is just right – you didn't think he’d remember.

Your heart melts out of your chest, raw feelings pooling on the floor. Every dish is an offering, a sacrifice. You stuff your face full of it. 

“Good?” He smirks, flirtatious and knowing. You nod with a mouthful of egg and bread and bacon and jam. “Then slow down. Breakfast is not to be rushed.”

Your heart beats a little faster when you notice the satisfaction on his face. Kiyoomi’s glowing, shining with a happiness that only shows around you. “It’s just us today. Take it easy.”

based on my core belief that breakfast is the absolute Most Important Meal of the Day. take care of yourself <33

[nicolos]

fossil

They make it to their destination slowly.

Very slowly.

Part of the problem is that she's travelling with the slowest people she's ever met. Every single one of them is content with taking weeks to get from one place to the other, because they all remember a time it always did. It's a feeling she remembers from when she was younger and her dad was away and her mom couldn't quite handle two kids at home while she wasn't, and Nile and Cass would be sent to Grandma's. Grandma Freeman was actually her dad's grandma, and she was the oldest woman Nile had ever met—old enough to give Andy a run for her money, she'd say—and Nile had spent all her summers there bewildered by how content she was to sit down and knit and wait for the water to boil.

Travelling with Andy, Nicky and Joe is a little bit like that experience of standing at the stove waiting for the water to boil while her great-grandmother keeps the flame on low and gives her words about patience.

Except it's not that she's bored. It's that she's on edge.

"Nile," Joe says, the third time she asks about where they're going and why they're going so slowly. "I don't blame you for the fact that your world is extremely fast-paced, but that is a product of a very recent period of time, and neither natural nor healthy."

To which: Nile would like to call bullshit. Her introduction to the immortal lifestyle having been one solid weekend of unadulterated fuckery. You cannot give her a whole weekend of Kill Bill but shittier, and then say "actually, we spend most of our time doing 5000-piece jigsaw puzzles." She saw somebody else's insides and watched her own bones heal before her eyes and didn't even realise how fucked that was until (much) later because of the immediacy and breakneck pace of it all—a pace that left her, or any of them, no time or space for thinking or questioning. All she did that day was act.

Now there's no acting at all. She'd like to see the merit of that, but mostly it puts her on edge.

Too much time to think, she thinks, might help them with their thousands of years of figuring out what to do with themselves, but it just leaves her upset.

Even then.

They make it, eventually, to where they're going. It's not a particularly special day. They're in the forest somewhere east of the Black Sea, trees and dirt stretching out around them broken up only by the occasional village. She's woken up by Joe and Nicky arguing about the quality of different animal milk when used in cheese and when used in other cooking, which as far as she can tell is an old debate and one with no resolution. This wakes Andy up, too, but she only says "Yaks," and nothing else, in a mood because she's acclimating to the concept of sunburns lasting and has just discovered that her sunscreen doesn't actually last longer than a couple of hours.

"It says ultra protection daily sunblock on the bottle!" she keeps repeating, betrayal in her tone.

Nicky takes a break from pontificating on Greek yoghurt to say, "Maybe you are putting it on wrong?"

When Andy looks like she's ready to hit him, Joe says, "Give me that," takes the bottle from her, holds it a foot from his face and squints at it, before concluding: "The font is too small."

Fortunately, Nile is familiar enough with sunscreen to tell Andy how to do it—the right way this time, because Andy didn't listen the last time she told her to put on more—as they pack away their tent (Nile's discovery of the week is that she might not be able to die, but she can get a crick in her neck from sleeping in their car) and their food and don their backpacks and start driving further in.

The drive is punctuated by more cheese talk. Joe and Nicky devolve into a different language every hour or so, but only when talking to each other, remembering to revert to English when they turn to Nile. It's Nicky's turn to drive (which he does like a complete madman) so Joe gets shotgun, because of course he does.

Andy teaches Nile a card game, which is mostly about not letting your cards fly out of your hand when the wind picks up or when they go over a bump, which is often. Every once in a while, Joe breaks away from the conversation (which is stuck somewhere around ricotta) to remind Andy of a rule like "and if you get the queen of spades, you have to put away two of your cards until you find the jack," or "right, but you skip your turn if you've got two clubs in your hand and that new song comes on."

And then they're there.

It's eerie, the switch. One moment Nile's convinced she's finally got the hang of the game enough to actually win a round, and the next Andy's looking up, eyes wide, and saying, "We're here."

She says it with the tone of voice she had that first day they met. "We're here," like pulling up to Copley's house and being ready to walk into possible death. "We're here," like "Whatever it takes." It immediately puts her on edge, something in her that recognised the danger in Andy even before she saw the inside of that church sitting upright, ready to pay attention.

This is it, she thinks, trying not to feel like she's been falsely lulled into complacency. Time for Kill Bill: Vol. 2. For a second, she even wonders if all the rest of it—the cards, the cheese, the terrible driving and the jigsaw and the full three hours Andy and Joe spent in a single shop trying to buy a blanket that felt right—if all of those things are just to make Nile's survival instinct forget who they are.

Who they can be.

But then Nile starts to get out of the car, and Joe says, "Wait," and makes Andy slather more sunscreen on her face and arms while Nicky finishes his bit on ricotta and Joe himself counts every one of the fifty-two card set before he puts them away ("They're very smooth, and I'd like to not have to replace one yet."). So Nile decides that that cannot, possibly, be fake.

Intentional? Maybe. But not a lie. And the distinction matters, she thinks.

They go a little bit further on foot before they get to it. Stretching away around her is a huge cavernous structure of a pale bleached stone arcing at least twelve feet high. It's buried halfway in the dirt with vines and creepers and mushrooms and flowers all over it, but the structures still go well over her head, almost of a height with the old trees that surround it.

"What is this place?" she asks.

Andy says, "This is where Lykon died."

She can't say what it is that connects the dots in her mind, only that the moment Andy says it, she knows—that the structures aren't stone or ungodly amounts of ivory or a ritual site or a freak natural formation. They're bones, large and disproportionate and cavernous ribs, holding them in right now like once they held someone's—Lykon's—heart and lungs.

"I thought you said," she starts, but the truth is she doesn't know _what_ she thought. She cannot begin to comprehend this.

"He was just like us when he was alive," Andy says. Joe and Nicky have fallen back, standing next to the smallest rib, Nicky with his hand hovering over the rib like he wants to touch it, like he has, like there is a familiarity there, though Nile knows Lykon predates him. It's none of their first time here, though, she can tell. "He was shorter than me, actually. We used to..."

Nile doesn't ask as Andy looks away. Her eyes aren't wet, though, and though the pain radiates off her, she's nothing more than steel eyes and locked spine. When she looks at the bones, she looks like she's remembering—but maybe not his death.

Nile asks, "What happened?"

Andy grins at her. "No idea. We don't really have any other examples. We buried him here and didn't come back for... two hundred years? At least? And when we did, it was like this."

This tracks: all her answers to the truly unbelievable parts of all of this have been, in the end, we don't know. She turns instead to the one person who she thinks will have come to some kind of conclusion, not maybe out of a sense of science or logic, but because he needs something to believe in. Nile needs something to believe in, too—she always has. Sometimes that something has disappointed her more than it's given her any value, but—

But she's standing in a rib cage taller than she is, and every hair on her body is standing on end with it.

Nicky says, "Our lives are in some ways far greater than that of an ordinary person. I do not mean that they have more value, but perhaps... vastness of experience. It cannot reflect in us while we are alive, or as alive as we are, but after..." He shrugs.

Nile says, "So you think his bones expanded to reflect that?" except that even as she says it, she can feel something of the question in her settle. She's not blind—she's seen their age on them, on all of them. Not just in their exhaustion or the old people nonsense they're always on or the way they speak or their technological ineptitude, but in their eyes. In the way they close their fists and the way they hold their weapons. So really, she means, in their bones. Settled in there with an ancientness that she can't really comprehend, that she cannot even begin to imagine settling on her. When she was fifteen, sixteen had felt terribly far away, and when she was twenty-four, twenty-six felt like it was right there.

But one day—

She thinks of Copley's charts, strings drawing to strings and making a flowchart of history that goes back maybe one hundred years and spreads so far. Exponential, she hears, in his voice. Where does that go, after an immortal dies? Where does that sit while they're alive? If she looks at Andy now, she can almost imagine that she's seeing a woman with branches emerging from her the way vines have crept over and around Lykon's bones, entangling him permanently in this forest, making him just as much a part of the structure of this place as it—the world—is a part of him.

And Andy? Nile tries not to think of what she'll be, twenty or forty years from now.

She pointedly does not think of Quynh in her watery non-grave.

"So," Andy says, "don't bury me in a fucking city," and Joe barks out a surprised laugh. "Unless you want to fuck it up."

Nile rolls her eyes. "We're not burying you for a few decades yet, grandma," she says, though they cannot possibly have any idea of that. Sometimes she's convinced that being able to die at any moment now is a thousand times more frightening than being a normal person  who, also, could die at any second. Maybe it's the experience of having lived through it, having come out the other side and found—she doesn't know. She doesn't feel invincible like this. She's never put too much thought into her own death before, but now that she's died and come back, she's terrified of it, and she wants it, and she wants to never look at it.

But at least, she thinks, looking at all the untold thousands of Andy's years compressed into a ribcage just like anybody else's—at least somebody will be able to see it, after. The vastness of what it means to be one of them.

There are flowers on the vines that wrap around the rib closest to Nile. She picks one and puts it in her pocket.

On the way back, Andy tells them about yak cheese.

[halstudandruz]

Gentleman in the Streets, Freak in the Sheets (NSFW)

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: Kelly gets fed up when you tease him at work all shift (Dominate, kinda rough Kelly smut)

Warnings: Smut (18+), daddy kink, breeding kink¿, swearing

A/N: Anyone else find the gif incredibly sexy? Also, proof skimmed at 4am so don’t judge typos 😅

It was a quiet day in the firehouse. Ambulance 61 only running a few calls and everyone else passing the time by running drills or checking equipment. You had offered to make dinner, wanting to give Ritter and Gallo a break for once. You were far from a candidate, but you weren’t “all in” on the candidate hazing per say. They needed a break every once in a while too. Especially when trying to cook three meals a day for the pickiest men in Chicago. You were trying to decide how to marinate the chicken when your boyfriend walked into the lounge headed straight for the kitchen.

“You cooking tonight?” He asked when he spotted you in front of the stove. Watching you nod, he chuckled.

“You know we have candidates for that.” He teased.

“Yeah yeah I know, I also don’t care.” You retorted, having already had this talk before. “Hey! What are you doing?” You scolded as you watched him open up a cupboard digging through it.

“Getting chips.” He answered, nonchalantly.

“I’m making food!” You reminded him.

“And I will eat it, but I need something to hold me off in the meantime.” He replied, rolling your eyes, you turned back to the task. “Okay spices.” You thought out loud moving towards the cabinet Kelly was still digging through. Registering in your head that there was nobody else around except Mouch who was loudly snoring on the couch. Smirking you took the few steps towards your needed ingredients.

“Excuse me.” You mumbled slipping in front of Kelly where he was trying to reach something from

the back of the top shelf. Pushing yourself up on your tippy toes you attempted to grab spices off the bottom shelf, pushing your butt out to put pressure against his crotch before slowly moving back down on the heels of your feet, smiling effectively to yourself when you felt Kelly immediately tense above you swallowing a low groan, trying again and eliciting the same reaction. “I can’t reach it. Could you hand me that cayenne pepper?” You asked sweetly pointing to it, witnessing a pink tint appear across his cheeks, still pressed tightly against you, clenching his jaw when you wiggled your hips back against his. Tightly gripping the container he handed it to you. “Thank you, lieutenant.” You grinned sliding out from in front of him to make your way towards the counter. It wasn’t but two seconds before Kelly had you trapped up against the counter. Breathing heavy in your ear goosebumps traveling down your body at the warmth of his breath.

“You think you’re so sly. Such a little tease, trying to make daddy rock hard.” Kelly leaned over your back pushing his hips into your spine where you felt an obvious bulge. “You’re just giving me an invitation to bend you right over this counter and use you.” Kelly whispered into your ear as you started to chop up the celery coming centimeters away from chopping off your finger at his words. It had been a few days since you had sex and you knew you both were craving each other. When the sound of footsteps heading for you became clear he sprung away putting a respectable amount of space between the two of you.

“Is anybody making dinner around here?” Herrmann asked, appearing from the apparatus floor, Stella in tow behind him.

“Yeah, working on it.” You assured him watching Kelly retrieve a bag of chips and head towards the bunk room, cool relaxed demeanor drifting back over him. He was always better at hiding things than you, and this was likely a game you were going to lose at, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You and Kelly had dated for awhile before accepting that the pressures of the job was starting to take a toll on your relationship. In order to healthily deal with your issues separately you decided to take a break, knowing that you would likely eventually end up back together, or at least hoping so. It was hard at first especially after finding out he had had a brief fling with Stella, one of your best friends in the house, but you had gotten through it and had been back together for a couple months. Nobody else in the house knew though, except Matt who you frequently ran into every morning in his kitchen.

You had taken plenty of opportunities to tease Kelly throughout the rest of the shift. Sending him dirty texts, accidentally running into him in the shower, innocently flirting with Gallo just to get a rise.

“Oh sorry are you almost done?” You asked sweetly watching Kelly shift his clothes from the washer to the dryer.

“Be my guest.” He moved out of the way for you to move towards the washer starting to throw your clothes into it when you heard him clear his throat. Turning you cocked your head when you saw him holding one of your thongs on his pointer finger. “Oops must’ve dropped that.” You played innocently, taking it from him to drop it into the machine feeling the heat of his body crowd you.

“What has gotten into you today?” He questioned, gripping your hips.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You bit your lip blinking up at him.

“Oh so you really were just interested in Gallo’s new workout regimen?” He smirked, pushing you completely against the washer.

“Kid’s looking swole what can I say?” You giggled.

“You must really want me to take you right here, Kitten.” He shook his head, lips moving centimeters away from yours. You hummed, waiting for him to make contact, but he never did. “Say it. Tell me.” He challenged right hand moving up to your bare stomach, finger pulling at the top of your pants.

“I want you.” You admitted and you could feel him smile against your own lips.

“How bad?” He encouraged, popping the button of your pants open, fingers inching further south.

“So bad.” You assured, moaning when the pad of his finger came in contact with your clit, his mouth muting the sound. You relaxed letting the pleasure seep into your body. Whimpering when one of his fingers pushed into you. Your own fingers were nothing compared to his and it had been too long since you felt them. Bracing yourself against his chest when he added another, thrusting them in and out.

“Fuck, Kel. Someone could walk in.” You reminded him trying to keep a clear head, that was very quickly fading.

“Let them. They can watch and see how wet and desperate I make you while fingering your little pussy. Then they can imagine what I do to you with my cock.” He whispered into your ear, causing your knees to buckle below you.

“Oh my god.” You breathed out when his thumb began to flick against your clit synchronizing with his thrusts, his dirty talk was always out of this world. You felt your legs begin to shake, head falling into your boyfriend’s chest, sharp breaths coming out just as the knot unraveled in your stomach. Kelly’s free hand wrapping around your waist to steady you. He waited for you to gain control of your balance again before removing his hands away from you.

“This is far from over.” Kelly kissed your sweaty forehead before retreating leaving you a disheveled mess. You left him alone for the rest of the night knowing if you went near him you were going to cave and this time you would be sure to be caught.

You had turned a boring shift into an entertaining one and you loved watching him squirm.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t gotten much sleep having run calls almost all night, one after the other, and you were so ready to fall into your big soft bed you had even forgotten about the game you were playing with your boyfriend. Up until you walked into your apartment. Dropping your bag to the floor you kicked off your shoes barely registering Kelly close behind you until he tugged on your wrist, taking you off balance causing you to fall right into him, his hard body insistently igniting a spark within you. His hands gripped your face bringing you in for a heated kiss, one that had you leaning back against the door almost immediately.

“Mmm.” You hummed, starting to feel your body summon a second wind.

“Are you too tired? Cause we can do this later.” Kelly pulled away to ask you sincerely, palm cupping your face.

“You seem to have woken me back up.” You chuckled arms circling around his neck to pull him back down to you, tongue joining his, gripping the bottom of his shirt you broke the kiss to tug it over his head.

“Don’t worry you have me so fucking horny this isn’t gonna take long.” He laughed unbuttoning your jeans as he licked across your jaw.

“I don’t know if Matt’s gonna want to see our clothes all over the floor.” You joked, stepping out of your jeans as he pushed them down.

“I asked him to give me an hour or two.” Kelly shrugged a cocky tone in his voice causing you to roll your eyes.

“It’s his apartment too.” You pointed out, shedding yourself of your shirt and bra, as Kelly tossed his jeans to the side.

“He can come home if he wants to, he just may regret it. Which is exactly what I told him.” Kelly replied, taking two steps towards you to throw you over his shoulder.

“Kelly!” You giggled unexpectedly.

“Shh we’re on a time limit.” He smacked your ass and you could hear the smile in his voice as he walked you towards your bedroom. Dropping you at the edge of the bed quickly covering the length of your body with his capturing your breasts in his hands, mouthing at your right nipple. Before his hands moved to explore all the parts of your body. The small pleasure sending goosebumps down your body. “You’ve been teasing daddy at work all shift. What if Herrmann or Stella would’ve seen you wiggling this perfect little ass against my crotch?” Kneading it into his palms. “Would you have liked that? Showing everyone how worked up you can get me? How hard you make me just by looking at you?” Kelly growled nibbling down your neck.

“Stella maybe.” You mumbled, causing him to chuckle.

“Jealous?” He inquired.

“Possessive.” You responded, squeezing his crotch for emphasis.

“She’s got nothing on you baby girl.” He promised, picking you up enough to lay you down. higher on your bed. “You have me so pent up you know that?” He rolled his hips down on yours thin fabric covering each of you, so you could clearly feel his full bulge, a soft moan escaping your lips at the action. Kelly smirked above you at the sound.

“You want it so bad don't you? You want daddy to fill you up good huh baby girl?” He taunted fingertips running up and down your thighs. You clenched your jaw trying to keep your hips firm against the bed not wanting to give into him so easily. “Awe come on. You know you love when I talk dirty to you. You tell me all the time, and I bet if I just move my hand a little south it’ll do all the talking for you.” He teased finger snapping the waistband of your underwear“Just tell me how bad you want this cock sweetheart. How you are soaking through your panties right now just thinking about it.” He continued hand very steadily moving closer to what you knew was going to be a pool of liquid between your legs. “And I will rock your world.” He promised biting hard at your collarbone just as his fingers met your clothed center, accompanied by a loud moan involuntarily filling the room. “Would you look at that?” He brought his glistening fingers up in front of your face, but you remained quiet chewing on your lips. “Oh so that’s how we’re gonna be today?” He raised an eyebrow before backing away from you, “you can get yourself ready then, or you’re not getting any.” He commanded.

“No, wait I’m sorry come-“ You started to reach for him but he leaned farther away.

“Your choice.” He smiled widely at you.

“Whatever, fine.” You pouted, you could certainly make this as torturous for him as it was for you. Slowly sliding your panties down your legs. “Oh hey you weren’t kidding, they are soaked.” You laughed, jokingly before throwing them at Kelly’s face. Spreading your legs wide for him to see fingers grasping your nipples first rolling them between your thumb and forefingers. Hips rolling at the feeling that warmed your body. Bringing your hand up to your mouth you made a show of your lips sucking two of your fingers, tongue circling around them humming a small moan that could still be clearly heard in the room. Hand trailing leisurely down your body. You could hear Kelly’s breath hitching as your hand connected with your center purposely moaning loudly enough to fill the apartment putting pressure against your clit. Finger teasingly sliding across your own entrance before circling it again. You could feel the juices starting to drip down your legs, getting impossibly wetter at Kelly’s dark eyes watching your every move. “Oh god.” You groaned, pushing in a single finger thrusting your finger up towards your stomach. Giving more attention to your clit before adding a second finger. “Yes, fuck yes.” You breathed hips pushing down towards your palm when you curled your fingers towards your g-spot already wishing it was Kelly’s dick.

“That’s it baby, play with your wet little pussy so daddy can watch. Such a pretty cunt.” Kelly praised. You hadn’t even realized your eyes had closed shut until you had opened them met with the sight of Kelly’s hand lazily stroking his fully hard shaft.

“Daddy..please.” You begged.

“What do you want sweetheart? Tell me.” He ordered eyes locked with yours.

“You to fuck me so hard I won’t be able to walk for days.” You whined hips still desperately moving with your hand. Kelly appeared back on top of you in seconds.

“Daddy’s ready to take such a long sexually frustrating day out on your perfect little cunt.” He teased nipping your earlobe as he lightly rubbed the tip of his dick between your folds. Slowly pushing his hips forward, your pussy immediately taking him in. “God baby you’re so fucking tight. How can you be this fucking wet and still so tight?” He growled, breaths coming out heavier as he continued to move forward waiting for you to loosen up for him. Focusing on the smell of him so close to you, the quiet little growls, the warmth of his body right against you had you relaxing quickly the pain of the intrusion subsiding within seconds.

“Move Kelly.” You encouraged him, digging the heels of your feet into the bottom of his back trying to pull him even deeper.

“Ah ah ah,” Kelly grabbed ahold of your hands pinning them above your head, “you’re here for daddy’s pleasure right now kitten.” He reminded you with a slow roll of his hips causing you to whimper. His hips moving in slow deliberate circles before thrusting hard all the way in you.

“Fuck!” You screamed, head falling back into the pillows. Your legs falling wider apart when he started moving in a steady rhythm. Quickly finding your soft spot, knowing your body inside and out. “There.” You informed him in a mumble, starting to lose the ability to think, worse with each thrust. He had your arms pinned above your head, hips pounding against yours as hard as possible. Moans and slapping of skin echoing in the room. It was crazy how quickly he could get you where you needed to be. Knew exactly the angle his cock had to enter and exactly the right speed, but he definitely knew what he was doing. Slowly his thrusts as soon as he knew the knot began to build in your lower stomach. Bringing you to the edge numerous times.

“Kelly, I'm getting close.” You warned, whining even louder when his thrusts came to a stop. “Kelly fuck baby come on stop doing that.” You begged, legs beginning to shake at the continuous edging feeling the knot disappear from the pit stomach again and you wanted to cry.

“As soon as you learned to call me by the correct name you can finish.” He teased. Your brain was too clouded to form a decent sentence let alone control what was actually coming out of your mouth.

“God daddy I’m sorry I can’t help it. I can’t even think straight right now.” Your body was wiggling uncontrollably trying to get the friction moving again, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes.

“You can and you will baby.” He ordered, slowly beginning to move again.

“Daddy please just let me cum. Please. Wanna cum around your cock so bad.” You begged, likely incoherently, but he must’ve felt bad as he moved his thumb down into to contact with your clit flicking against it in time with his thrusts.

“Ahhh holy shit yes! Daddy oh my god!” You yelled limbs locking when the pleasure exploded throughout your body. Shaking slightly, sounds flowing freely from your mouth, hands entwining with Kelly’s single hand above you. Stars were still clouding your vision when you tried to open your eyes, Kelly curling himself even closer against you, his head stuffed into your neck, groans continuously accompanying each of his breaths.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m so close baby girl. So fucking close. Keep clenching that pussy for daddy. Just like that.” He coached, feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“I can feel you twitching babe. I can feel how close you are daddy. You gotta pull out unless you want it in me.” You warned knowing within three strokes he was gonna fill you otherwise trying to push away the multiple voices in your head that admitted you would love nothing more.

“That’s exactly what I want princess, daddy’s gonna flood this tight perfect little pussy with his hot thick cum.” He grunted out and sure enough three strokes later you felt his cock swell, muscles tensing below your hands before spurting numerous amounts of cum against your walls, the warmth lighting your body on fire even more, Kelly collapsed onto your body, during the short fast thrusts he used to work himself through. Loud groans falling from his lips. Sweat covered your bodies sticking between the two of you.

Finally catching his breath a few minutes later he slowly pulled out of you, mind clicking and coming back to reality, eyes widening when he saw the cum running out of you, “Oh my god. Oh fuck baby I’m so sorry. Shit!” He panicked, eyes flicking from the mound between your legs to your face causing you to giggle.

“It’s fine, Kel.” You reassured him reaching for tissues to attempt any clean up.

“I should’ve asked. I let myself get way too carried away. I'm so sorry.” He ran a hand down his face.

“Would you be okay with having a baby with me?” You asked him sincerely.

“Well...yeah of course. I love you.” He nodded his head.

“Then it’s fine. We’re both adults. We know the risks of sex. If we really wanted to avoid it I would suggest more than just the pull out method. Plus if I was really worried I could’ve stopped you.” You shrugged. “Not saying I want to actively try but it certainly wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” You admitted, having kept your feelings on this exact subject at bay for a while.

“You want to have a baby with me?” He asked, shocked.

“Eventually.” You answered and he smiled.

“Could you imagine telling everyone you’re pregnant and we’ve actually been back together for months.” He laughed at the thought.

“Well thanks to your lack of self-control that might be a reality.” You joked, giving him a pointed look.

“On the brightside you’d get to call me daddy more.” He said winking as he leaned down to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

“Nobody would ever believe the things you say to me in bed.” You thought out loud.

“Gentleman on the streets, freak in the sheets.” He shrugged, winking.

NSFW Taglist:

@beautiful-bunny89 @jayxhalsteadx @grettiwrites @life-treatments @weepingfestivalmentality @toomuchtv95 @malrunaway @queen-of-arda @glimmerglittergirl

[besotted-eros]

a little green

Pairing: Eren x f!reader

Genre: Smut

Content: mentions of choking, breeding, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, jealousy, use of term "daddy".

Summary: Why would you ever mention another man to Eren? You knew what it would do to him.

You winced as the tin cup hit the floor, the clattering making your body cringe away. After all that effort to carefully extract yourself from Eren's tight grip, creep out of your bedroom, and begin the preparations for breakfast as silently as you could, it was a simple cup that destroyed it.

"Stupid fucking thing." You swore as you knelt to grab it. But before your fingers met the metal, another hand wrapped around the handle.

He was behind you suddenly, making you pitch forward with a start and grab the counter for support. The hairs on the back of your neck rose as you felt him. He was heat, commanding your attention and filling your brain even though he was behind you.

"Eren, dear God. It woke you up that fast?" You exclaimed as your boyfriend chuckled. He placed the cup on the counter in front of you, wrapping his free arm around your waist.

"Been awake for a bit now." His raspy voice purred against the back of your head. "You think I stay asleep when you're not beside me?" The expanse of his chest was against you, the jut of his hips. Every angular line of his body, from bare chest to thighs, finding its place against your own. His hand traced lazy circles on your waist as you busied yourself with readying a pan with eggs and sliced meat.

"You don't get leave often, I just wanted you to sleep in once. Your friends are coming for lunch, and then you'll be off again tonight. You deserve some rest." You responded, raising your cheek when his hand closed around your chin. He pressed his lips to your skin, holding you for a moment before letting his fingers trail down your neck.

"Don't you know waking up beside you is my greatest pleasure? Nice to see something pretty in the morning, besides Armin's snoring face." He murmured, tracing along your collar bone. He leaned into you heavily, sleep still thick in his voice. You had to admit the tenor of it made you warm.

"If you let me live in the city with you, we'd be able to do it more often." You said, flipping the eggs expertly. You grabbed for spices, your movement hindered by the lanky form clinging to you.

"Told you, want you outta harms way. Danger finds that city. You're safe here. I like the thought of you here." His lips found your neck as he spot, peppering kisses along the exposed skin. He kissed along the marks he left last night, the tokens of his love.You felt your knees weaken at it, but tried to keep your composure. "Scouts stationed nearby, lots of space. Kind village. You can grow here, y/n."

"Grow away from you?" You asked, your tone light and teasing. Eren stiffened against you, and the arm around your waist tightened. His lips were stilled, resting above where your heartbeat pressed against your skin. "Maybe I'll put down roots with some nice village boy. The miller's son always slides me more grain than I come to him with."

You had moved the pan off of the heat, and for a moment the only sounds were of the crackling fat. "Really?" Eren asked, his fingers digging into your hip as he came alive behind you. He moved you, grip firm as he pulled you from the stove, pivoting on his heel so he could press you over the counter top. Another line grew against you, from where the curve of your ass met his hips.

"Does he get like this when he sees you?" Eren asked as he pressed his quickly hardening shaft to you. His voice was darker now, his hand moving from your collar bone to cup your breast through the thin linen of your blouse.

"Do you think he wants to grab these? Touch them the way I do?" His fingers massaged the soft flesh, making you bite your lower lip as you struggled to contain a cry of surprise and pleasure. Your gentle teasing had awoken something, something you knew lied in wait. But you didn't realise it would come this fast. You reached behind you, stroking your fingers through his hair. He had put it up in a bun.

"No." He growled, snatching your hand and pinning it to the counter. He straightened up as he pushed your torso down, keeping his hips in contact with your ass. "Don't get to touch me when you're looking at other men. Don't get to touch me, gotta teach you a lesson." He snarled. You hated how undone you were by his words, the warmth in your stomach now a raging bonfire as he furiously rubbed against you, letting you feel his desire. His hand curled on the back of your head, keeping your face pressed into the cool wood.

"E-eren..." You hissed through gritted teeth, your back arching in desperation to attain more touch, more of him.

"Now you wanna say my name, huh?" You could head the grin in his voice, the triumph of making you his. He grabbed the fabric of your skirt, quickly pushing it above your thighs. "You wanna act like a good girl now because you know you're in trouble." His palm found your ass, groping it lewdly before pulling back to give your left cheek a resounding spank. You jerked forward, yelping out in surprise Erens teeth grazed over his lower lip, the sound of you making his cock jump with want. He slapped the other cheek, eyes dancing at the sight of how your flesh trembled and shook at his behest.

"God, you're not even wearing anything under your skirt. That fucking desperate huh?" He asked, returning his hips to rub his bulge against your exposed lips, now separated by only the thin layer of the cotton trousers he slept in. "Is this how you go to see him, huh? Tell me." He growled, forcing your legs further apart as you scrabbled against the counter for purchase.

"N-no! Only for you, I only do that for you." You gasped, and Eren grinned. He pushed down the waistband of his pants, letting his throbbing cock free before pressing it against your pussy. He avoided the aching hole, instead dragging himself back and forth between your wet lips. The head bumped against your clit as he thrust, making you flinch with pleasure. One hand rested on your waist, holding you in place while the other curled around your throat.

"Why? Why do you do that for me?" He was purring now, and you could feel locks of hair coming lose from his bun.

"Because... Because I'm yours." You murmured, and his grip on your throat tightened. He would never hurt you, he was always so careful. But he loved seeing your face turn red, loved knowing that you trusted him with your life.

"Say it again. Prove it." He demanded, moving to grab his shaft and line the head with your pussy.

"I'm yours! Fuck, Eren fuck me please, I'm just yours okay? I'm only yours, I'm forever yours! There's no other man, there's no other anything!" You were begging now, twisting to look back at him. The sight was something to behold.

His jaw was slack, emerald eyes thick with lust as he gazed back at you. It was like he was ready to consume you, to eat your being whole and lick his fingers after. His chest stuttered with breath, firm abs flexing as he curled his hips up.

"That's right. Yeah baby, that's right." He cooed, reaching up to stroke a finger across your cheek. You turned your head, pressing your lip to his wrist as he groaned.

"Only mine." He whispered, and you felt him against your entrance, spreading it with his thick head.

"Forever mine." Your face was against the counter again, gasps escaping as he pressed forward, inch by cloying inch. You fit him like a glove, and he groaned in appreciation at your hot, wet walls closing around him.

He gave you a moment to adjust to his immense length, his hand now soft in your hair. He stroked through it once, from your scalp to the tip. Fingers twisting around your locks, eyes gentle as he felt their silk.

And then, he was fucking you. Mercilessly, his hips snapping on the return to drive deeper and deeper. His cock pounded into you, hard enough to make you feel it in your stomach. When Eren let go, when you made Eren let go, there was no end. He would use you, please himself with your cunt until you were a sopping mess under him.

All you could do was urge him forward.

"Eren, it's so good, so fucking good yeah, yeah please... Please give me more, p-please..." You managed to whine out, and he responded with a groan, leaning over you as he pulled your hips back, making you bounce against him.

"Like that? Fucking like that?" He hissed through gritted teeth. You nodded, letting out a cry of exasperation as he moved back, pulling out of you and leaving you hollow.

You didn't have time to complain, as he deftly moved you onto your back.

"There. Wanna see your face, see your pretty face while I..." He held your thighs, spreading them wide as he pushed back inside you with a grunt. It was a smooth motion, one that sent your eyes rolling back into your head. You grabbed at him, at his broad muscular shoulders, at his firm chest and torso.

"No one... Makes you feel like this... No one in the world. No one but me." He whispered, his eyes locked onto your face, your expression of pure bliss sending waves of pleasure through out him. He loved the feeling of you clinging onto him, your once independent and powerful body reduced to a little toy for him. Let other men stare, let them ply you with gifts. He lifted you up, becoming your only anchor to the world as his fingers dug into your ass, making you bounce on his shaft in a way that made his knees weak. At the end of the day, you were his. His only. His cocksleeve. His lover. No matter how little nights he spent in your bed, no matter how far away he was from you.

But how to make others see that?

Your face was pressed against his taunt neck, your moans filling the small house.

"Shall I fuck a baby into you, y/n?" Eren asked, his voice clear and ringing in your ears like a bell. It cut through the haze of your pleasure as you processed it, and then it came back tenfold. Eren grinned as he felt your reaction, the way your pussy tightened on him. The way your moans increased.

"Oh, you like that huh? Like the thought of me breeding you?" He purred, fingers gripping onto you harder. You were coming close to the edge, on that rocky cliff before cloud nine. And he was getting you there faster than you ever had.

"Y-yes, I d-do..." You squeaked out as he bit into your shoulder, trying to quell his own rising heat. He stilled you for a moment, letting you catch your breath and kissing away the noises while you whined. He walked forward, balancing you precariously on the head of his hard dick as he reached the front door. Eren put you down, turning you to face the doorway as his hand snaked around, unlocking it and pulling open. You looked upon your front yard, at the flowers you grew, the field of wheat across the narrow lane. It was quiet, it was peaceful.

"Eren?" You questioned, turning to look at him. Wordlessly he pushed you towards it, making you grasp the door frame as he moved your skirt up. He pulled your hips towards him, and you were bent over, legs being forced open.

"Someone will see Eren, sometimes p-people take this road." You whimpered, and your only response was a dark chuckle.

"Give them something to look at then." He growled as he pushed his way inside of you, dragging against your puffy wet walls. You moan in unison with him and he held onto you tightly as his hips began to move.

"Gonna fucking breed you, gonna fucking breed you." He chanted, panting with each thrust. His hair was wild now, eyes shining in the early morning sun. The cool midday air attempted to calm your bodies, to dull the passion. But nothing could.

"Y-your friends! They're gonna be here so-soon... Eren oh my god!" You were blubbering now, feeling your wetness course down your legs as your man ruthlessly pounded you from behind. He reached around, and there was a sound of tearing that joined the squelching of your sex. The breeze run across your breasts as he exposed them, pawing at them wontonly as he bent over you.

"These are gonna get so full, Y/n. You ready for that? Ready to make me a daddy? Want the world to see. Want the world to know what you let me do to you."

Your vision was blurry, pleasure and tears making your head feel as though it was full of burning cotton. All that existed right now was Eren. The way you touched you, the way he undid you, the way he took you and made you nothing but his.

"Yes." You repeated, clutching at the frame when his fingers found your clit. His chest was against your back, bending you over further as he rut you like a bitch.

"Say it. Say you want my load. Say you want my babies." He commanded, the pads of his fingers glancing over your throbbing button over and over.

"I want your cum Eren, I want your cum, breed me, please breed my pussy I'll make you a daddy let me make you a daddy, let me-" your voice spilled into the open air, a loud moan cutting your begging short as your pussy tightened around Eren's cock, pulsating as you creamed for him. The sensation was too much for him, and he reciprocated eagerly, shooting stream after stream of hot cum into you.

With a groan Eren let himself fall from you, pulling you up to straighten and closing the door.

"I'm sorry about your blouse." He murmured as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He walked backwards toward the couch, wrapping his arms around your waist and guiding you down with him. "Got ahead of myself." He whispered. You kissed, the panting of your breaths mingling as his sweet lips moved against yours. This was always when he was most gentle, most soft.

"'s okay, you just owe me a new one." You lay against him, enjoying the way his body thrummed underneath you. You'd miss this tonight. This warmth, his hands smoothing your hair back.

"I'll have some things sent down with the next supply for the scouts. There will be grain for you too in there,already milled." You raised your head, your brow furrowed.

"And what does that mean?" You snapped, but your anger quelled when he smiled. Smiles from Eren were so rare. It caught you off guard, stopped the scolding in your throat.

"Just teasing." He replied, pulling you up for another kiss.