#I have nothing else to do tonight the day is wasted and ruined

[phantom-does-a-thing]

i love literally just trying to vibe and then the most raw insecurities start to crawl out of the walls like scurrying insects

[doe-writes-stuff]

A/N - My first foray into the wonderful world of Matthew 'Manwhore' Murdock. Thank you in advance for giving my stuff a try if you do happen to continue on!

CONTENT WARNINGS: Strong language

You didn't think walking home from your terrible date would lead to you defending an unconscious vigilante from a couple of teens with too much curiosity for their own good, but...well, this was Hell's Kitchen. What else did you expect?

I should have worn my goddamn sneakers.

Hollow clicks measured your path along the pavement. Sharp, determined steps. No matter how many times you tried adjusting your feet in the 3 inch open-toed heels adorning them, the pain wouldn't go away. Serves you right for not breaking them in for a few days before your date. Now, with no ride back home and a reluctance to waste money on a cab when you could simply walk the 5 blocks it would take to get you there—cabbies were charging out the ass nowadays—you were cursed to suffer the consequences of your lack of forethought.

Not a great place to be at two in the fucking morning.

The alternative of removing them entirely and going nearly barefoot across the sidewalk wasn't all that appealing. For one, your pantyhose would be swiftly ruined. Not to mention the possibility of stepping directly onto a used heroin needle or the uneaten remains of someone's discarded dinner along the way. No thanks. You'd risk the bastard of a blister and not even complain about it in the morning.

Not too much, at least.

Skipping your short cocktail dress in favor of something a bit more conservative saved you from the awkward form-fitted waddle it would have forced you into. The strappy little piece would have been wasted anyway on the lackadaisical, stoner thrift shop owner who'd shared a few drinks with you at the bar only a few minutes prior. Something told you it still wouldn't have kept his eyes from wandering to your red-headed, busty bartender countless times over the course of the night.

"Expectations weren't high to begin with." You remind yourself in a mutter, adjusting the purse strap a bit higher up on your shoulder, crossing another street and doing a routine sweep around to look out for any cars or people in your general vicinity. You coughed against the faint stench of stale cooking oil and car exhaust that always seemed to permeate this street corner.

Wincing past the pain radiating from the back of your heel, you take notice of a few boys who'd jay-walked over the street to now be several dozen feet in front of you, heading the same direction. They talked amongst themselves, their conversation too far or too quiet for you to hear. Hands in their pockets, they looked around frequently. Suspicious.

Teenagers, judging by their fashion choices. Likely out and about looking for trouble after sneaking out of the house. Despite the likelihood they weren't out for the most innocent of reasons, they weren't much of a concern. Nothing indicated they'd noticed you or, if they had, even cared about your presence. Still, should they decide to turn around and make your night a little too interesting, you figured your heels could be good for one thing: swinging with reckless abandon with their pointy ends facing them. If the threat of your heels didn't convince them to leave you alone, the can of pepper spray in your bag should be more effective.

But as luck would have it, they held no interest in you whatsoever. In fact, something turned the boys' heads towards an alley as they passed by up ahead. So much so, in fact, that they stopped completely and stared at whatever it is they saw, pointing and gesturing frantically. A frown wrinkled your face as they briefly conversed, before hurrying out of sight into the alley.

Just keep on walking, I really don't need this tonight, you thought bitterly, hoping despite all logic that they weren't about to commit a crime or do something equally nefarious that would require intervention. Home was only a few more blocks away, so close and yet just out of your grasp.

Curiosity begrudgingly gets the better of you. And maybe you were being too hasty in assuming the worst out of these boys. Perhaps they'd just seen a cat and were stopping to help the poor thing. Wishful thinking, but hey, if you manifested hard enough, maybe God would grace you with some peace tonight.

However, any thoughts of peace flew out the window as you stepped past the edge of the warehouse beside the alley and glanced in the direction the boys had gone. Because despite the hazy darkness of the wee morning hours, the building's side door was brightly lit with a security light, the back of the alley awash in pale yellow as a result.

And within that sickly illumination, you saw a figure prone on the ground, surrounded by the two boys standing beside them, looking down.

Alarm rose through you at the sight. You hadn't heard a scuffle, or any cries of pain, or anything to remotely hint that they'd just assaulted this person, but honestly you didn't know what else to think. And despite knowing that calling the police would likely be the wisest choice for your health in this situation, you doubted they'd arrive in time to prevent this person from straight up getting mugged or hurt further.

Seconds ticked by. You weren't stupid enough to so casually dive into danger like this, but you liked to believe that someone would do the same if ever you found yourself in a similar position. Besides, it didn't sit right with you to let a couple teen punks give Hell's Kitchen a worse reputation than it already had. This was your home too, damnit.

Scrabbling in your purse for the can of pepper spray you'd purchased for self defense, you throw caution and self-preservation to the wind and hurry as fast as you can down the alley towards them. The nerves in your feet protest with as much negative feedback as you thought they could possibly inflict, but the seriousness of what you were seeing gave you the strength to ignore them for now.

The closer you get, the more you can identify, like the way one of them toes at the individual's leg with a few gentle kicks, as if testing their awareness. The other teen pulls his phone out and seemingly snaps a picture. Snippets of their conversation can now be heard.

"-dare you to do it."

"Shouldn't we call the cops?"

"Fuck no! If you're gonna a pussy, I'll do it." You caught one of them saying with a laugh, crouching down to reach for the person's face.

"Hey!" You call with as much authority as you can muster, finally gaining a grip on your mace and lifting it from your purse to point at them. Their heads whip around to face you. "Take a step back! You two think hurtin' people is funny or somethin'?"

"What? This wasn't us!" The one who'd crouched beside the unconscious man says, standing in a rush and holding up his hands defensively. He looked no older than 15, if you had to guess, face full of acne and the sad beginnings of what you thought was his attempt at growing facial hair.

"Chill, lady. He was like that when we found him, and he's passed out. Can't hurt us." The other leaps to defend, gesturing wildly at the person still laying prone on the ground. A man who, you now realize in alarm, is dressed exactly like a certain vigilante rumored to be hunting the streets of Hell's Kitchen. The adrenaline that fueled your little interruption was now backed by a wave of chilled awe and apprehension.

What had you just gotten yourself into?

Before the revelation of who you had stumbled upon could fully hit you in force, one of the teens steps away and continues babbling. "It's the fucking dude on the news."

"All the more reason to stay the hell away from him, then." You say, swallowing past the rising feeling of regret coursing through your head, unable to help catching glances at the man that felt more a myth than reality. "A couple of kids like you shouldn't be poking around people or places like that."

"He was just laying here, and we wanted to look. I mean, come on, no way you don't wanna know who he is, right? Everyone does." He seems to plead with you to agree with him, young face torn between his burning curiosity and the opening at the top of your mace can. "The guy's been all anyone ever talks about around here."

"He's knocked out, so he wouldn't even know. Just a peek, that's all." The other one adds, crouching next to him as if to reach for the mask again, but he just shakes his head and looks at you. "We were gonna call the cops after. Maybe there's a reward for catching the guy, you know?"

The boys smile in that charming way boys in high school think they are, but you find yourself taking a quick step forward, startling them enough to get them both on their feet and stepping away from the masked man.

"The only thing you're gonna do is go the fuck home. Now." The warning comes out through gritted teeth, irritation clearly showing through and doing what you'd hoped it would. It felt a little extreme to be threatening teenagers, but they'd seriously do something stupid if you didn't get your point across. "Or try something, and see what a face full of mace feels like. After that I'm getting the cops involved, and I'll bet explaining that one to your parents is gonna be a delight."

"Fuck, ok, relax." Acne face says in a rush, rounding you and stepping past his friend to go back the way they'd come. Hands still, up, he looks at you like you were the gum he'd just stepped in. "We'll leave. Damn."

Thankfully without any further convincing, the two boys head off towards the entrance of the alley, muttering what you thought to be 'crazy bitch' under their breaths and glancing back at you and the vigilante. Eyes on them until they disappeared around the corner, you let out the air from your lungs that had been held there too long, eyes closing as the moment passed.

And here I thought a shitty date was the worst thing that could happen tonight...

Once the light-headedness had mostly dissipated, you slowly look down at the infamous Man in the Black Mask just a few inches from your feet.

Being up-close to the guy that had been giving the criminals lurking in the shadows pause for weeks on end was a rather surreal experience. Things like this didn't happen to you. Never. Your life was boring and dull and now you were standing over the unconscious man and wondering what the fuck you were supposed to do next.

A momentary flicker of fear slid down your spine, recalling rumors of the guy's brutality. A few pictures of the criminals the cops had picked up off the streets after a run-in with the Man in the Black Mask had circulated the internet. They hadn't been pretty, to say the least. Your hand toyed with the can of pepper spray, debating.

For the supposed boogeyman in the darkness, he looked like...just a normal guy. There was distinct muscle tone under all that black fabric, but he was certainly no body builder. Nothing a bit of dedication at the gym wouldn't give someone. Rough stubble framed his chin and in the yellow glow of the security light, what looked to be dried blood stained a streak from his nose down to his lip. He'd been in a fight sometime tonight.

The suit looked homemade, you noticed. Curious, but...made sense. There wasn't exactly a retail store for vigilantes, yet somehow it struck you that this guy had essentially put on an athletic shirt with zero combat protection, tied a cotton mask to his face, and then proceeded to beat the bad guys up night after night. You'd seen nerds at conventions with more detailed fits than him.

How'd he even see out of that thing anyway?

He still hadn't moved in all this time. Perhaps you should have been more nervous of him suddenly waking up and attacking you, but something told you that he wouldn't. Blind hope, perhaps, but still, something.

Slowly, the fear lowered just enough for you to crouch and, after much debate with yourself if this was really the smartest thing to be doing, you placed a gentle hand against the man's chest. Warmth. A subtle rise and fall had you relieved that he was breathing, if not conscious. Alive.

The cops didn't like him, and as a law-abiding citizen, neither should you. Hell, there could be some law against helping a vigilante out in the first place. Aiding and abetting? Were you risking a charge by chasing off those teens?

Something didn't feel right about allowing his identity to be exposed. He was doing good for Hell's Kitchen. Your coworker's sister's fiancé was saved from getting mugged according to Kathy which, in all honesty, should be taken with a grain of salt. But on the off chance he was doing more help than hurt in your community, you didn't see a reason to make his life harder than it was already.

...did this make you an accomplice? Ugh.

A glance up at the alleyway where you'd come from reminded you that anyone else could walk by and see this guy just laying here in the light. And the next one might not be as harmless as a teen looking to satisfy their curiosity. You weren't sure how he'd come to be here in the first place, but surely he hadn't intended to pass out where just anyone could walk up and lift up the mask. The briefest idea to lift the mask yourself and see who he was disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. Clearly he wore one for his own safety or maybe just to intimidate the bad guys, and if what you knew about him was true, he was out here for the right reasons. The last thing you'd do was get in his way of helping.

Another glance around at the small alley reveals a darkened corner that was out of sight from the sidewalk. It wasn't too far, and you doubted you'd be able to do much more than drag him that distance anyway. With a resolute sigh, you put your pepper spray back in your purse and shift to grab both of his arms by the wrist, attempting to pull him out of the light towards the wall to lean him against.

The moment you try moving him, you realize you'd underestimated how much effort this was going to take. Especially in heels and a dress. A curse escapes under your breath.

"Jesus..." You huff out a breath, shifting your grip once more to better accommodate his dead weight.

Your feet, which had previously been in pain in your heels, were screaming at you with torturous malice. Another couple tugs gave little by way of results.

"Now would be a great time to wake up and help me out here. Teamwork makes the dream work or whatever..." Unfortunately, he remained silent and unconscious.

You rethought your whole idea the longer you continued to try dragging him over to the wall, feeling the couple drinks you'd had less than half an hour ago the more you exerted energy, but you had already gained a little ground. Only a few more yards to go.

Finally figuring out that you'd have more leverage by lifting him from beneath his armpits, you managed to reach under him and pull with much more ease that way.

"Maybe lay off the protein and pick a salad some time." You gripe through tight lips.

The sack of potatoes that was the Man in the Black Mask still gave you a ton of trouble, but at least you were gaining by several feet with each pull rather than inches. This position also gave you a nose-full of the smell of sweat, washed cotton, and the faintest hint of the guy's preferred cologne, you thought. Really not the best combination of aromas but, in all honesty, still better than your date's pungent musky scent that you were half-convinced he'd bathed in prior to meeting you.

With one last frustrated grunt, you manage to prop his back up against the wall, settling him into a semi-comfortable sitting position. You panted, out of breath, stepping back to examine him one last time, smoothing down your dress.

He seemed steady enough, and hopefully no one else would come down this way looking for anything. It was all you could do for him, especially given your feet would likely fall off or catch fire at the rate you were going in these heels. Hissing in pain, you step back and remembered there were still 2 more blocks to walk before you got home.

With one last look at the vigilante, you shook your head and sighed. "Just...don't get killed, ok? Hell's Kitchen is safer with you in it."

A subtle shift in his stature and a low groan at the back of his throat alerts you to his growing awareness. Without the adrenaline to keep you from enacting on your flight response at the impending awakening of the vigilante, you swear under your breath and get the hell out of the alley, hoping he was still too out of it to notice your swift departure.

With any luck, he'd be too disoriented to figure out what had happened. Heels clicking in a mad fury down the sidewalk, you forced the man in the mask out of your mind with great effort, already calculating the number of painkillers you'd have to take to be able to walk tomorrow.

Flickers of awareness. Not enough to fully rouse him at the time, but a small iota of stimulus enough for Matt to remember once he awakened. As he roused, his back propped up against the roughness of brick and the tell-tale alleyway stench of trash and rust filling his nose, he couldn't help but mull over what he could recall.

A woman's sharp voice. Sensations of movement around and above him. Something had touched him. And again, a woman's voice, this time fainter and quiet, but close.

Don't get killed, ok?

It was difficult to tell what he'd truly heard and what was his mind conjuring what it wanted to.

Ignoring the many aches and pain in his body as he stood from his seat against the wall, Matt noticed more and more things seemingly out of place. Two similar male scents. The subtlest hint of sharp spice in the air—pepper spray. Not strong enough to have been used, but at least present nearby.

Coming back to his senses was quick, though not as fast as he would have liked. By morning, the taste of brewing coffee was so strong in the air of Hell's Kitchen that there was nowhere he could go to avoid it. The blatant lack of it, coupled with the low foot-traffic on the sidewalk around the corner meant he hadn't been out for long. It was still early, before the rest of the city awakened in full force. A small relief.

Speaking of foot-traffic...one set of steps was growing more distance with a noticeable haste—clicking of cheap, hardened rubber. Heels, probably. A woman?

Sweetness clung to him. Another soft inhale brought the scent of perfume into his nostrils, a mix of citrus and floral. It clung to his clothing pleasantly. His head tilted, putting together what he knew and the vague words that he thought he recalled.

Almost out of reflex, he lifted a hand to his make-shift mask, feeling that it was in the same place he'd left it before. Nothing felt out of place, nor as if it had been removed and replaced by someone else. To his knowledge, his identity hadn't been compromised. Still, that left him with many questions.

He couldn't recall losing consciousness in the position he'd awakened in. You...you'd moved him over to the wall? Defended him, perhaps, if the clues were adding up like he thought they were.

The sound of your retreat was still audible from this distance, his anonymous protector no doubt hurrying home. Beneath the mask, Matt's brow raised with interest.

Who were you?

A/N -I guess I'm just testing the waters of Matt's characterization with this one and seeing how I wanna play with this world. If you'd like to see more, please let me know <3

[silentscrying]

🏀 buzzer beater | chapter FIVE.

nba!gojo x manager!reader

summary: you thought you'd gotten rid of arrogant NBA star satoru gojo when he left the curses after your first year in basketball management. but when your contract is up three years later, you find yourself working with him once again as the manager for the sorcerers. as you navigate playoff season alongside long-time friend ieiri shoko and the sorcerers' insufferable star player, you start to realize his sudden departure from the curses may not have been what it seemed, and maybe gojo isn't exactly the person (or player) you thought he was, either.

warnings: language, minor injury, mentions of smoking, obscene amounts of pen-twirling and cryptic conversation. || sfw. 3.3k words. reminder that characters are aged up (bc tiny high schoolers ain't playin' in the NBA in any universe) and megumi & yuji & co. are only a few years younger than gojo.

FUSHIGURO’S PRESS SCHEDULE is wiped for the rest of the Phantoms series before you even get back to the hotel, and you and Nobara have mediated press releases and fielded questions about his condition—and Gojo and Hanami—back and forth for hours. Fushiguro will be out game four, but he’ll be fine, and Gojo has not been suspended from upcoming games. According to Nobara, Twitter is relieved to hear it.

The internet’s also blowing up over Gojo and Hanami’s almost-fight. You scrolled through Twitter for all of five seconds before someone said something along the lines of satoru gojo grab me by the shirt like that fr and you considered deleting the app entirely.

You’re trying to forget about the whole thing, or at least be pissed at Gojo, but there’s a part of you that can’t help but fixate on how protective he was of Megumi. It’s not like Gojo didn’t know the consequences of getting into a fight. Was it just that his need to put Hanami in his place, to stand up for Megumi, outweighed the threat of suspension?

Not wanting to keep Ieiri up (not that she’s sleeping, but on the off chance that her insomnia isn’t raging tonight, you aren’t looking to ruin it), you make yourself at home in the floor lounge area to finish your work for the night. You wrap up the Nike contract and send it over to the rep.

You waste the rest of the night away with the usual post-game rituals of paperwork and emails and calls, and only when you’ve closed your laptop and are about to head back to the room does Gojo poke his head into the common room.

“Hey,” he says, and it feels weirdly simple.

“Hey?”

Gojo takes this as an invitation, dropping into the chair on the opposite side of the table, boneless with the day’s exhaustion. He’s got a nondescript Nike tee and a pair of gray sweats on, and he’s ditched the headband so his white hair is falling haywire over his eyes.

For a second he says nothing, and then he glances at the pen on your notepad and picks it up, twirling it between two fingers. You roll your eyes.

“What’s up, Six?”

“I wanted to thank you for taking care of the Nike contract. And Fushiguro’s press schedule.” He clears his throat, like there’s something else he wants to say, and you wait him out. Without meeting your eyes, he says, “And I’m sorry for losing it on the court today. I know that, uh. Makes things harder for you. And Kugisaki.”

You freeze. It’s an unexpected gratitude. You’re starting to find that the apology, though, isn’t so unexpected. He’s been doing an awful lot of apologizing lately. It’s honestly stopped taking you so off guard. “Uh. Yeah, no problem. Just doing my job.”

“You’re good at it,” he says, pointing your pen at you. “Your job.”

“Thanks.” You laugh a little. “How’s he doing?”

Gojo hums absentmindedly and tosses the pen into the air, catching it with his other hand and resuming twirling it between his fingers. “Better, I think,” he says. “He’s with Yuji. Sleeping. Freaked him out a little, I think.”

Bits of your conversation from the locker room flash through your mind. Gojo’s hesitation, his anger, the questions upon questions building up in the back of your throat, the buzzer interrupting whatever answer you might have received.

“You’ve been… a little off, lately.” You bite your lower lip, debating whether to broach the topic. But his too-bright eyes are already trained on you, inquisitive, and the words are leaving your mouth before you know you’re saying them. “I mean, is it just playoffs? Or is there something else going on?”

He opens his mouth, closes it. You don’t often see Gojo speechless.

“It’s—ah, didn’t mean to worry you, Miss Manager.” He grins, covering up whatever emotion he was about to display with charm, that typical Gojo arrogance.

“Gojo.”

“You don’t have to call me that, you know.” You just look at him, waiting out the deflection. He sighs. Drops the pen back onto the notepad. Taps his fingers on the arm of the chair.

“It’s just San Diego,” he confesses after a moment. “I mean, you know. And Yaga doesn’t want us thinking that far ahead, but I can't help it. I just have this gut feeling they're making it to championships. So if we're really gonna win this thing, it's going to be us against them.”

“Not too late for Manhattan to whoop your ass,” you say, but you’re not serious and he knows it. He cocks a brow and snorts. “What is it about the Curses? Just that they know the way you play? That you’re on bad terms?”

Gojo grimaces. “It’s not necessarily that we parted ways on a bad note. More that Geto’s gonna do some weird psychological shit to trip me out, me and Gu—uh, Fushiguro.”

“Fushiguro.” You tilt your head, examining, searching, and decide to push it just a little. “Earlier, in the locker room—what were you going to say?”

The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s long as Gojo searches for the right words, one hand tapping an anxious rhythm on the tabletop. You flick the pen so that it rolls off the notepad, stopping in front of him. Chuckling, he picks it up and resumes using it to occupy his hands. “You were right. That we didn’t play together in college. I, uh, actually met Megumi before he was in college. He was… like, the best point guard I’d ever fuckin’ seen. Recruited all over the place.” He sighs. “Not by our university, though. Probably—for the best.”

There’s a lot to this story, to this history. You know it the way you know Ieiri’s smoking out the hotel window right now—unseen, but inarguable, and not yours to comment on.

You’ll take what he can give you, for now.

“I was on a scouting trip when I met him. The trip was actually for the other team, but I’d never seen a point guard like that.”

Fair enough. Megumi is genuinely one of the best players you’ve ever seen.

“And I asked him about going D1, and he said he couldn’t.”

Couldn’t. What possible reason could he have behind that? Did he not think he was good enough? “But he did go D1,” you prompt.

“I… guess I kind of did him a favor?”

“What does that—”

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” Gojo blurts, like he wants to talk you down before you can accuse him of something. “It’s just that it’s not my thing to tell, you know what I mean?”

You sigh. “Yeah. I do.”

He drags a hand across his eyes. “I got closer to him than I meant to. Him and his sister, actually. Her name’s Tsumiki.” He smiles softly. “The sweetest girl. And we kept in touch throughout his college career. And then he was drafted here.” He shifts in his chair. “And I was traded here.”

Megumi told you himself that’s not the full story. And you were there when Gojo broke things off with the Curses. It wasn’t some simple trade. But you don’t push. He’s already told you more than you anticipated. You feel like you’re on the cusp of some revelation, some conclusion, but you don’t have all the pieces and you know Gojo won’t—can’t—give them to you.

“I think he feels like he owes me,” Gojo confesses quietly, staring at nothing. “Even though I always tell him he doesn’t owe me shit.” His admission is soft, almost like he doesn’t realize you’re listening.

His gaze snaps back to you.

“It sounds kinda stupid, and I know they’re not that much younger than I am, but they’re like… I don’t know. Family. So when Geto pulled that stupid shit with the Curses, I just—” He drags a palm down his face. “Sorry. I know they were your team too. I don’t mean to… like, try and put ideas in your head about them. It’s fine, seriously.”

Another sorry. You study him for a long moment, him looking more out of his element than you’ve maybe ever seen him, aside from that day with Geto. “Is that why you haven’t told me?” He looks down. “You didn’t want to influence my feelings about the Curses?”

It’s actually such an absurd, but weirdly considerate, line of thinking that you scoff out loud. “You know I left them, right? Same as you.”

“Your contract was up.”

“Gojo, I hated it there,” you say, surprising yourself with your own candor. “They were assholes. It was…” You trail off, wondering whether you should admit it. That it was worse when Gojo left.

You shrug. “This team is better than I could’ve hoped for.” You grin. “But I did not follow you here.”

“Oh, sure you didn’t,” he teases, and whatever unease sat in the air between you before melts away.

He throws the pen up in the air again, and this time it arcs forward. Your hand shoots out to catch it at the same time as his, and you suddenly find yourself staring at Gojo’s hand wrapped around yours, the pen tight in your fist. His hand almost entirely encompasses your own, and his grip is loose enough that you could shake it off if you want to.

He’s warm.

You’re about to say something when you look at his forearm, and realize that the skin has turned a mottled yellow. Before you know what you’re doing, you’re wrenching your hand out of his and grabbing him by the arm, pulling him closer to you, examining the rapidly darkening bruise.

“Did Hanami do this?” And you’re surprised by how angry it makes you. “Jesus, Gojo.”

“It’s fine,” he says softly, and he doesn’t try to pull away. You meet his gaze, strands of white falling into his eyes.

“It’s not.”

Time feels suspended around you, the heat of Gojo’s bruising skin on your palm, his eyes locked onto yours like there’s something worth reading there. You clear your throat. “You’ll just have to kick his fucking ass, then.” You let go of his arm, watch as he pulls it back to his side, drops the pen on the table.

“Guess so.”

“Rest up, Six. Phantoms won’t beat themselves.”

“Won’t they?” Gojo chuckles and rises from the seat, tapping the table in a farewell before taking his leave.

“Gojo?” He stops in his tracks, tilts his head like a confused puppy. It’s almost endearing. “Thanks,” you say. “For telling me, I mean.”

He grins, a surprised little smile. “Thanks for listening.”

When he’s gone, you stare at the place he was sitting, the pen he was twirling in his fingers. Thinking about the person you thought he was, the person he might be.

You’re so goddamn confused.

—

Hanami is starting for the Phantoms. That’s their first mistake.

You’ve seen your team pretty divided on a breadth of issues, from which pizza joint to eat at last night to political stances to play strategies. But the one thing they’re unanimous on is that nobody can hurt Megumi Fushiguro and get away with it.

Toge starts in Megumi’s place, which means Ino subs out pretty quickly so that Toge and Yuta are on the court together. But Ino doesn’t seem to mind, leaning in as he swaps out with Yuta to tell you, “I think they might kill Hanami by the end of the half.”

You should probably oppose murder as a general moral standard, but at the moment you kind of just want to see him get absolutely decimated.

There are a number of players you really haven’t seen angry before, Toge most of all—he’s not a vengeful person, not petty, but now he’s playing like Hanami has always been his rival, like he wants to drive him into the court and kick him while he’s down.

Gojo stays on Hanami’s heels like his giant, leering shadow. He’s making comments out of the corner of his mouth, and you don’t even want to imagine what kind of shit he’s saying. Hanami can barely move around on the court, let alone get a shot in, and you can see his frustration building.

Eventually he gets fed up and shoves his shoulder into Gojo’s chest to get past him with the ball, and the ref fouls him. Gojo grins for the entire duration of the free throw, practically dancing to his place on the court.

You’re trying to hide your grin, and by the look Nobara’s giving you, it’s not working.

She texts faster than anyone you’ve ever seen. Apparently she’s keeping Megumi up to date, because Yuji made him stay at the hotel and said if he turned on the TV with a concussion he’d sing “the concrete jungle wet dream tomato song” the whole flight home.

“Are you doing this in a group chat?” you ask, leaning over her screen. It’s called fushiguNO, and you laugh at loud as you realize it’s only Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi.

“It’s mostly me and Yuji. Fushiguro just lurks and dislikes every text with his name in it,” she says.

Over the course of the first quarter, your guys whoop Hanami’s ass. They’re pulling every trick in the book to make his life hell without getting called. It only works sometimes—Yaga has to tell them to cut back when they start running up fouls, especially Gojo, though there’s really no heat behind his voice. It’s just a practical matter. He wants to see Hanami get his ass beat just as much as the rest of them.

After halftime, the Phantoms coach pulls Hanami and doesn’t put him back on. It feels like even more of a victory than the 79-56 score.

As third quarter starts, most of the usual starters aren’t even on the court—they’re toying with the Phantoms. Kusakabe lets Junpei on the floor for more time than he’s ever gotten. You catch a few Phantoms fans slipping out early. There’s no coming back from this.

Gojo probably hasn’t had this little playing time in years, but he doesn’t seem to mind, at least as long as Hanami’s off the court. The point deficit has gotten so insane he could take a nap on the floor and it wouldn’t matter.

Anyway, the Sorcerers fucking sweep.

They win against Manhattan, four games in a row, and just like that the first round is over. It’s hardly a competition. You watch the Phantoms fans file out of the stadium dejected, their home team knocked out of the playoffs before they could really get going.

Ino grabs you by the arm and tugs you into a sweaty team huddle, a few of the other guys doing the same to Nobara and a very reluctant Ieiri. “Semis!” Hakari shouts, and the rest of the team echoes it, jumping around and putting each other in headlocks and being all-around obnoxious boys. Yuta hugs you and you smile, and then Nobara has Megumi on a video call, and then Yaga herds the team out of the gym with a barely-repressed smile.

“Baltimore!” Gojo hollers, coming to walk alongside you. “Gojo City. What do you think of that, Alley-oop?”

“Charm City,” you correct.

“That’s what I said.” He winks.

You roll your eyes. “I think I’m glad we have a fucking week before we have to fly back up to New England,” you say, but you can’t help grinning back at him. The week will be full of practices and film studies for the team, but you’ll at least have a bit more free time once everything is set up with Baltimore. You might even make it a whole day without seeing Satoru.

Oh, shit.

Shit.

When did you start thinking of him on a first-name basis?

“We swept specifically so you could have some free time,” he lies, and you chuckle.

“Giving yourself an awful lot of credit there.”

“That’s what he does best,” Kento drawls from Gojo’s other side, and then Ieiri catches up to you and shoos the boys off.

“Get your asses changed and out the door,” you call after the guys. “We have a flight to catch!”

The team disappears into the locker room, and you, Ieiri, and Nobara catch a cab back to the hotel. You settle the bill, make sure everyone’s luggage is accounted for, and find yourself doing a headcount on the team jet within two hours—an impressive turnaround, by their standards.

You throw Yaga a thumbs-up and head to your seat beside Ieiri, tugging your laptop from your bag to work on the short flight home.

You do not envy anyone who has to fly with a concussion.

Megumi spends most of the flight home with his face tucked into Yuji’s shoulder, headphones on and nose scrunched against the air pressure, and Yuji doesn’t stop rubbing reassuring circles on his shoulder the entire time. Yeah, you’re pretty fucking sure there’s something going on there.

Beside you, Ieiri is way too invested in a sudoku puzzle while you work furiously on your laptop, scribbling notes in the margins of your planner and reading up on the Wolverines.

After an hour or so, Ieiri gets up to go to the bathroom. You’re considering sprawling yourself over her vacant seat when Gojo slides into it instead.

“Well, excuse you.” You close your laptop before he gets any ideas about messing with your work, turning to him expectantly. “What?”

He sticks his bottom lip out in a pout. “I can’t spend time with my super lonely manager?”

“Ieiri left two seconds ago.”

“A long time to be in solitary confinement,” he says solemnly, leaning back and making himself at home in Ieiri’s seat. “Whatcha doin’?��

“I was working, until someone decided he needed attention.”

“Working on what?”

Resigned to the conversation, you maneuver yourself so you’re leaning against the window, one foot up on your seat. “Stuff for Baltimore.”

“Ah. Don't even worry about Baltimore. Non-issue. We'll win."

"So humble," you mutter. You glance at the printed bracket clipped into your planner, noting how the rest of the Eastern Conference is shaping up. "Well, they're higher seeded than you. Watch yourself."

Gojo waves his hand like this is irrelevant. "We got 'em. And then we'll play the Samurai, and it'll be great."

You do really want to play the Savannah Samurai. They've already won three games in their own series. Technically, you won't know if they sweep until tonight, but there's really no world in which they lose to the eighth seed. You played with their manager in college, Ieiri's friends with their trainer, and there are a bunch of connections among the players, too—trades, college teammates, even family ties.

"Hey, you know how Itadori’s half-brother plays for Savannah?” You nod. “Well. According to Yuji, he says their trainer is very not thrilled about the possibility seeing me again. Which is absurd, I think. I am an angel walking God’s green earth.”

“You’re annoying.”

“And so charming.” He nods, like you’re the one who said it and he’s just agreeing. “Just giving you a heads up that Utahime hates me. So you can defend my honor in the conference finals.”

“Bold of you to assume we don’t have a secret Anti-Gojo society already.” You’re well aware Iori Utahime isn’t Gojo’s biggest fan. You know they went to high school together, and you’re honestly just impressed she hasn’t killed him yet.

Gojo gasps. “You wouldn’t.”

“She would,” Ieiri says, standing beside Gojo with arms crossed and brows raised. “I don’t recall inviting you.” She glances over Gojo’s head at you. “Do you?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Shokooo,” Gojo protests, but she jerks a thumb over her shoulder and he sighs dramatically and vacates her seat. He grins at you. “Don’t miss me too much.”

You scoff as he retreats back to his own seat, probably to bother Kento. Ieiri sits down beside you and gives you a weird look.

“What?”

She just smirks and goes back to her sudoku.

directory. || prev. || next.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan

[ghuleh-witch]

Make You Sing

Fandom: Ghost Rating: Explict Warnings: NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, p in v sex, exhibitionism (kinda), confessional sex Relationships: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia x Female!Reader Characters: Papa Emeritus IV, Female!Reader, unnamed Sibling of Sin Additional Tags: no use of y/n, soft!dom Copia Words: 1121 Summary: Between your busy schedules, you and Copia make time to see each other, but that time is interrupted when a Sibling of Sin steps into the confessional.

Ao3

Your nails were digging into the wooden back of the chair as your head was pulled back, making your back arch. “Fuck,” you moaned loudly as Copia held a fistful of your hair. “Papa.”

“As much as I love those sweet noises, you need to keep it down, dolcezza,” Copia replied as he pounded into you. The hand that wasn’t pulling your hair was gripping your hip, pulling your hips back onto his cock. “Don’t want anyone to hear us, si?”

You and Copia hadn’t had a lot of time to spend together lately. Between his duties as Papa and preparing for a tour and your own work in the ministry, your time together was stretched thin forcing you to find little moments of free time throughout the day to spend together. Tonight Copia was holding confession, and as soon as the last person in line left, you came out of your hiding spot in the shadows and stepped into his side of the booth. It was late and Copia’s window for confession would be ending soon. No one else would be stopping in to confess their sins. 

When his hand came around to touch your clit, you all but whimpered in need. “Let them hear,” you breathed, your mouth falling open in a silent moan as his fingers teased your clit. His hand let go of your hair and pulled you closer to him. “I–aaaaah—want them to know you’re ruining me.”

“Ragazza birichina,” he purred in your ear. He pressed a kiss to your neck as his thrusts slowed to a torturous speed. 

“So close,” you panted softly as his lips peppered your neck with kisses and gentle nips. You teetered on the edge of your climax and were just about to shatter when the sound of heels could be heard approaching the confessional. 

You both froze upon hearing the door to the other side of the booth open and close and someone sitting down in the chair on the other side of the wall. The mesh between the booths was thick enough that the sibling couldn’t see either of you and you couldn’t see the sibling.

“Bless me, Papa, for I have sinned. It has been fourteen days since my last confession,” came the voice of one of one of your fellow siblings. “I have lusted, I was greedy, and I was envious.” 

One of Copia’s gloved hands came up to your mouth and covered it as he slowly pushed into you, careful to not make the chair you were balanced on creak. You felt his lips quirk upward into a smirk and knew he was turning this into a game. 

“For these sins, I am not sorry,” the sibling finished. 

Copia wasted no time stepping back into his role as Papa despite his cock buried deep inside of you. “Did you feel guilt while you were experiencing these sins?” Copia asked, keeping his voice level and neutral as he usually did in confession. A hand came and rested on your hip, keeping you still on his cock. He knew it would make you squirm. 

“A little,” the sibling confessed. “When I was lusting after my married friend…I want her so badly, but she’s happily married. I can’t help it though. I’m so jealous that her partner gets to have her every day and night and I just want her all to myself. I know they’re both polyamorous, but I still feel wrong for trying to come between them. I just…I don’t know…I don’t want to feel guilt for having the feelings I do and I don’t know what to do about this whole situation.”

“All those feelings you have a valid,” Copia said as he thrust deep into you again. You wanted to whimper into his hand but fought to keep silent. “There is nothing wrong with feeling guilt either. You are human and being human is complex and confusing.”

There was a sigh from the other side of the dark mesh screen. “What should I do, Papa?”

“Have you talked to your friend? Communication is key, after all.  It does not do to bottle up all these feelings.” Copia said, as the hand that wasn’t covering your mouth moved from your hip to your front and then between your legs. He dragged a single finger up your slit before stopping at your clit. You couldn’t help but tremble as you fought back any noise that was threatening to escape. 

“I’m afraid that if I tell her I’ll ruin my friendship,” the sibling said. “Even though I have a feeling maybe she feels the same for me too…”

“Perhaps it would be best to bring up your feelings to your friend and talk it through with her. You will never know if she feels the same or not if it’s never discussed. Don’t live with the regret of never knowing,” Copia responded as his fingers teased your clit.

“You’re right,” the sibling said. “I should talk to her. The worst that can happen is that my feelings aren’t returned and she’s not interested, right?”

“Right. And if she is truly your friend, your friendship won’t be ruined. Sure things might be, eh, awkward for a bit but you two will work through it.” He thrust into you slowly again and this time, the feeling was too intense. A muffled moan sounded against the leather of his glove and Copia quickly started to fake cough to cover up the sound.

“Are you okay, Papa?” The sibling asked.

“Mi dispiace. I seem to be coming down with a cold,” Copia lied, his fingers putting pressure on your clit as though in punishment. “Speak to your friend and discuss how you feel. Life is too short to be left wanting and wondering.”

“Thank you, Papa,” the sibling replied, their chair scrapping on the floor as they stood.

“Go and sin freely,” Copia said, making the sign of the inverted cross to the mesh-covered window.

The door on the other side of the confessional opened and you could hear the sibling walking away. When all was silent again, Copia released his hand from your mouth and pressed his lips to the side of your neck.

“Couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He questioned, his teeth grazing your skin.

“Sorry,” you panted. “It just came out.” 

He hummed in response before the slow, agonizing pace of his thrusts turned punishing. “You’re lucky confession is over and you can be as loud as you want now,” he growled into your ear. “And I’m going to make you sing, cara.” 

And he did make you sing—your voice echoing off the rafters of the chapel as he brought you to orgasm.

Translations dolcezza-sweetness Ragazza birichina-naughty girl Mi dispiace-I'm sorry cara-dear/darling

[torotauri]

The Perfect Gift - Happy Sana Day (18+) | Sana Minatozaki [TWICE]

Warning Sexual Content (18+) Read At Your Own Risk

Happy Sana Day

1237 Words - Just a quickie on Sana’s Birthday

***

Thursday nights are nothing special. Despite it being a pretty special day, you have been busy with work, trying to finish all the task before the end of the year. This means that you have been staying in the office for a lot of times, coming home late. However, this Thursday you had to leave the office on time. 

It was your girlfriend Sana Minatozaki’s birthday.

As the clock struck 5pm, you switched off your computer and left the office immediately. Rushing to the nearest shopping mall to pick up a bracelet that you think your girlfriend might like. You were too busy to pick up a birthday gift for her so there weren’t much options on what you could give her on her special day. You just hope she would like the bracelet you just bought. Picking up the birthday cake on your way home, you wasted no time and headed straight back home. Sana always wanted to be treated like a princess on her birthday. She even booked today off work so she could fully enjoy the day.

Rushing home, you opened the door and saw your girlfriend Sana just sitting there watching TV doing her own thing as you walked in the door.

“Happy birthday babe” as you approached her and gave her a peck on her cheeks.

No response, you decided to pull out your present to see if that would get a response from her.

“Happy birthday babe” you repeated and pulled out your present.

Sana gave a little bit of a response as she looked over to see what you got her for her present. Opening the gift like an excited child on Christmas, she quickly unwrapped the box to find a Pandora bracelet.

“So did you like the gift babe?” you asked.

Sana smirked.

“It’s a nice bracelet, but I think I want something else for my birthday” Sana smirked as she responded to your question.

“But it’s quite late now, all the shops are shut already. I’ll return it and get you something else tomorrow” you responded stubbornly still not getting what Sana really wanted.

Putting the bracelet away, Sana pulled you closer to her as her hands roam towards your crotch area.

“It’s not something you can buy babe, but it’s something only you can give me” Sana smirked as her hands rubbed your clothed cock slowly getting you hard.

You leaned in on Sana slowly kissing her lips, as you initiated the make out session. Sana reciprocated the kiss and slowly starting to make out with you. You roamed your hands underneath her hoodie as you started to fondling with her boobs. Somehow, you managed to unclip her bra whilst making out with her which caused Sana to stop the make out session.

Both of you didn’t speak, you just looked at each other with lust. 

Sana then proceeds to take her hoodie off and you did the same, stripping down until you were naked. Laying Sana down on the sofa, you slowly unbuttoned her jeans, taking them off her ankles and pulling down her panties as well. Both of you were naked at this point.

“Come on babe, give me the present I wanted” Sana said in a seductive tone.

You lined up your cock on her entrance and slowly thrusted your hips forward as you entered Sana for the first time tonight both moaning at the pleasure.

“Fff-ffuck baby” Sana moaned out.

Giving Sana slow but steady thrusts, you continued looking into her beautiful eyes as you fucked her slowly, not wanting to ruin her. She doesn’t deserve a rough pounding. She deserves to be loved, even during sex.

You continued thrusting Sana at a steady pace in missionary position as you both enjoyed the pleasure. The TV was still on, but the noises were already covered by Sana’s moaning.

“Ah ah yeah babeeeeee yeah kimochiii” Sana moaned out.

Her moans were loud but cute as you continued to pound her. Looking into her lustful eyes, you leaned down and made out with her as you muffled her moans. 

Sana was tight, like she always was. It always felt like you were taking her virginity every time you were fucking her. Her pussy was tight, but it wrapped your cock perfectly, giving you the highest possible amount of pleasure as you fucked her.

As you continued to fuck Sana’s pussy, making love to her, Sana was getting wetter and tighter as the pleasure increased. You know what’s coming, Sana was close to reaching her peak. You decided to increase your pace to give her what she wanted. 

“Yeah yeah ah ah fuccckkkkk babyyyy. I’m closeeeee gonna cummmmm” Sana moaned and screamed out as she finally reached her orgasm. 

Sana’s orgasm was loud and wet as she coated your cock with her juices whilst she screamed out as she shuddered riding out her orgasm on your cock. You decided to stop for a little bit as you looked into her lustful eyes just as she comes down on her peak.

“Give me what I really want baby” Sana said breathing heavily still yet to fully recover from her orgasm.

Getting the green light, you continued pounding Sana, making love to your beautiful girlfriend trying your best to catch your own orgasm.

“I know you are close, cum babe” Sana said in between moans.

You just responded by increasing your thrusting, all the way until you felt a tingling sensation in your core. You knew what was going to come very soon, you were getting close, breathing heavier and thrusts are no longer in a rhythm anymore.

“I’m close babe, where do you want me to cum” you asked Sana whilst breathing heavily slowing down your thrust.

“Cum in me babe, give me one final gift” Sana blurted out in between her moans.

With that, you thrusted in and out of Sana’s tight pussy like your life depended on it. For the first time, the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping on top of the moans that both of you were producing.

You were trying so hard to chase your orgasm until it finally arrived.

“Oh god fuckkkk Sana I’m cumminggg” you groaned out as you finally reached your peak.

Spurts and spurts of thick white semen erupted out of your cock and shot directly into Sana’s pussy, filling her up as each shot was matched with a groan by you. Sana can only lay there with her eyes closed feeling her pussy being filled with warm cum, finally getting the present she really wanted. 

Once your orgasm died down, you pulled out of Sana as you saw little bit of your cum leaked out of her pussy. Most of your cum was trapped inside her tight pussy. As you laid beside Sana on the sofa, Sana used her fingers to collect whatever cum leaked out of her pussy and tasted it.

“Mmmm tasty” as Sana licked her cum coated finger.

“Was that what you wanted?” you asked as you breathed heavily trying to catch your breath after that orgasm you just had.

“Hehe, the real present will come 10 months later” Sana said as she rubbed her tummy.

You laughed at the prospect of starting a family with your girlfriend as you kissed the top of her head and cuddled on the sofa.......

[bunnyluvs-blog]

The 1 (Bangchan x reader)

Heavy angst ‼️‼️ lots of tears, asshole! Bangchan

I made this bc of my own relationship issues so I know it's a lil iffy but please enjoy

Hurt. Tears. A shadow. Thats what you were reduced to at this point. Your boyfriend Bangchan whos a one of a kind idol, who used to come home every night, kiss you good morning, play with your hair when you were having a bad day. The one who always took such good care of you. The one who you truly thought could never hurt you. He promised he would never hurt you. So why were you a mess, on the couch of your shared apartment. Most nights you wouldn't even stay up to wait for Bangchan to come home. You knew his job was hard but now these days it seemed loving you was twice as hard. You just sat there the clock reaching 4am. No call no text no nothing from him all day. You sent him good morning text and all you would get was read popped up under your text. You weren't even worth responding too. You couldn't stop the tears from falling at this point. You tried so hard to defend him to yourself. That he has a life outside of you but at this point you werent in his life at all.

You passed out on a couch. Now it was 9am, your body didn't really let you sleep after your tear fest last night. You looked around the apartment. A cup next to the sink, the bed sheets messed up, and his clothes in a corner of the bedroom. He was home. And he didn't even notice you were gone. He didn't miss your warmth or cuddles or light kisses on his face. He didn't miss you like you had so badly missed him. You couldn't ruin yourself anymore, you couldn't do this, all the restless nights hoping he's eating and taking care of himself. And he couldn't even care if you were home or not. You had given 2 whole years of your life to this man, what a waste. You text him a whole essay on how you felt ending it with the words "Lets break up" and you sent it. You were shaking. Even if you wanted what was best for you you still loved him. He wasn't a bad man but he just wasn't your man anymore. You tried everything you could to get your mind off of it. Putting your phone on do not disturb and mindlessly watching stranger things all the way through.

You've set up your bed for the night on the couch and your stuffed animals to keep you semi happy. That's when he came home. The man who didn't even check his phone today. The one who didn't even read your message of you pouring your heart out. "Hey babe, w-whats all of this? It isn't movie night is it?" He says, confused. The first words you've gotten in weeks, real words, not an im sorry or I love you or something fucking cheesy like all your friends tell you their boyfriends do. "Oh I'm just sleeping out here tonight until I can find a place to move too.." you said, Chan raised an eyebrow. "Move too? What are you talking about" It hit you, it hit you like a fucking brick. He didn't even check his phone. "Check your phone" that's all you said before you put on some shoes, grabbed your phone and wallet and left. He didn't even go after you. Not that you were expecting him to but a small bit of you hoped he did. You just walked. Your normal route you did when you wanted some air in the middle of the day. The world looks so different at night. You've never really seen it before before now. Nights became a blur, maybe you could learn to like them more.

You heard panting along with your name, it was Chan. A baseball cap, black shirt, and sweats. "Y/n love please i head no idea you were feeling this way" he panted trying to catch his breath. "Look this comeback has just been twice as hard as anything else we've done and they're just asking more of me and I know that isn't an excuse but I would never truly try to ignore you, i love you baby I really do, please dont leave me I can't live without you, i know I'm a shitty boyfriend and I know I'm not giving you what you need but please, let me change, for us" he was begging, pleading. He wanted to change, and if people set their mind to something they can do anything right? Truth is you really didn't want to let him go. "Promise to never hurt me again..?" You asked, voice shaky, your holding back your own tears from falling. He nodded and let out a soft please before you hugged him, just sobbing into his shirt. He took you home and tucked you into bed after a shower and some medicine from the headache you got after sobbing.

It's been 2 months since then. And things have been going ok..ish. Things were perfect for a month. Until he fell back into the same habit. With no comeback to plan for at the moment you couldn't help but be confused on why this was happening again. You prayed and prayed that he would change and pull though, and you really though tonight would be the night. It was your 3 year anniversary. You couldn't be more excited. You got a new black dress and pretty earring that he bought you for your birthday a year ago. You guys had dinner planned at a restaurant you both wanted to try. Dinner was at 8 and you were ready at 6:30. You felt so pretty. You knew you were pretty. You walked into the restaurant around 7:30. You watching the couples smile and enjoy eachother before the staff sat you. You waited for a bit then until 8 hit the clock. You played with the end of your dress. You ordered a semi cheap wine for you and Chan. 30 minutes, 1 hour, 2 hours, 2 hours and 30 minutes later you gave up.

You called an Uber to take you home, walking up the steps to your apartment. Opening the door, putting down your keys and kicking off your heels. You hear the tv on and your heart drops. He was home. You looked around to see if there was any sign of a happy anniversary or a gift or something that would make you feel like he still cared. He must have heard the keys and a few sniffles because he was facing you. "Oh hi honey? Woah hey why are you crying? Where have you been? What happened" he got up walking over to you trying to give you a hug when you moved away from him. He looked at you confused. "Do you even know what day it is today Chris?" He pulled out his phone to see June 28th. The same date you two made it official. Oh how everything seemed so perfect back then. You could remember it like yesterday. Small talk, the big question, the giggles and cuddles, how happy you felt. It was all gone now.

"Love I promise I just forgot I'm sorry I'm such an idiot" he said grabbing your hands. Looking at you with those big brown eyes, how you could get lost in them. "It wont happen again" that's when you broke, you were tired of giving him chances to redeem himself. "Your right it won't, because we're over" He froze, mouth slightly opened "You clearly dont care about me anymore Chris and I can't go on pretending like you do to make myself feel better" You sighed and walked past hime, going to pack a bag. "Wait wait hun lets talk about this" he said going after you. "We have, we have at least every 6 months and nothing changes, im tired of being last place in your heart" you angrily said shoving whatever you felt was right into your bag. "I wish I was what you wanted" you said before leaving. You couldn't face him. You didnt want you. You know yourself better then this. You knew if your friend was dating someone like Chris you would tell them to break up and they can do so much better. It was time for you to do better for yourself for once.

[hopelesswrites]

Eddie x Harrington!Reader Part 2

very wattpad of me, but its not proofed sorry

Part 1

-

Family video that day became a safe haven for you. Curled up behind the counter between the two pairs of legs belonging to your brother and his best friend/shared braincell.

You had explained the situation, minus some details, not wanting to admit to your crush on Eddie Munson to Steve The King Harrington himself. He was one of those kids once, tormenting Eddie, he could easily find fuel enough to do it to you too.

You knew Steve had mutual friends with Eddie and a small association with him that created a layer of respect between the two, but that still didn’t change the way you know your brother disapproved of the boy.

“I just don’t understand why you would waste time defending Munson to begin with” Steve shrugged before aiming and tossing another screwed up ball of paper into the stationed bin behind the counter.

“Eddies always creating a scene, let him embarrass himself.” Robin chimed in. Although the girl was in the same year as you, you rarely saw her at school. She was often in the performing arts block away from the crowds, so generally missed out on Eddies own theatrics in the cafeteria.

“This time Jason was cruel; I was fed up” You answered.

“Eddies a big boy, he can look out for himself”.

You knew this, of course you knew this, Eddie was 2 years your senior, he was a grown man technically. That still didn’t change the way you felt, no one else understood the energy Eddie gave off to you, he was vulnerable, and you had grown a want to protect him.

“You sure there’s nothing else going on?” Robin asked, a hint of accusation behind her tone.

You only glared back, refusing to air out your secrets to the pair.

You tensed at the sound of the bell chiming above the door signally someone had entered, followed by Steves defeated voice. “No, out!”

The person made a noise to speak but Steve cut them off, “You still haven’t returned Gremlins from a month ago, you’re not getting anything”

“I’m not here for a movie jackass” Dustin Hendersons distinct voice responded. “I’m here for your sister”.

At that, Steve looked down at you. “Munson looking for her?”

“All over town”.

“If he’s going to laugh in my face for defending him, I don’t want to see him” You yelled out from behind the counter.

There was a beat of silence, “He’s shy”.

Steve scoffed, “Munson? Shy? That’s a joke”.

Dustin made another noise of annoyance, “He’s different around her dude, gets all red in the face and shuts down, its pathetic to watch, and completely ruined hellfire today, so they need to talk it out, kiss it out, whatever it takes to get Eddie back to normal”.

Heat had risen up to you face now as the air around you thickened, Steve wasn’t the type of brother to talk about this stuff with, he always got awkward and said the wrong things, even with his heart in the right place.

You dug your knuckles into the flesh of your eyelids, hoping the pressure would cause you to pass out, all it did was make you dizzy.

“Meet Eddie outside the auto repair shop please, he’s working with his uncle tonight” Dustin’s voice seemed louder, you realised he was peering over the counter at you.

You wouldn’t have been able to guess a month ago that this whole ‘rebelling’ move you made would lead you standing outside the towns mechanic anxiously deciding whether to go in or just turn around and forget the whole ordeal altogether, phone up Chrissy and tell her you had been feeling unwell recently and majorly wronged your judgement on the boy.

The decision was made for you when a tall older man walked out, a cigarette between his lips and a lighter at the ready before noticing your presence.

“Got a breakdown?” He gruffly spoke, lighting the cigarette and taking a drag, waiting for your answer.

“Is Eddie here?” You asked quietly, not trusting your own voice.

“He’s busy at the moment” the man dismissed you.

“Its about school, it won’t take a minute”.

The older man you can only guess is Eddies uncle nods his head and gestures inside the building. There you found that familiar head of hair leaning over an open hood, locks of hair swishing around as Eddie nodded along to a song on the radio. Before you could say anything Eddie was swinging around, wrench in hand only just missing your face.

“Woah, fuck I’m so sorry I didn’t see you there” Eddie stepped back, hitting the car with his hip.

“No sorry I was In the way” You replied flustered.

“No, never, you’re okay” Eddies tone softened, registering who had creeped up behind him.

“Dustin sent me, I just want to apologise for causing a scene today, the last thing you need is more attention, I should just mind my own business-“

“Hey” Eddies gentle voice snapped you out of you rambling, “No need to apologise, I should be thanking you, that was very brave of you to stand up to Jason like that, and that right swing was impressive” Eddies big brown eyes beamed down on you, his eye contact a stark difference from the shy glances he’s offered you these past weeks.

“I should also apologise for not defending you, I was just in shock is all”

You looked at Eddie confused, “in shock about what?”

“That you cared enough to stand up for me” Eddie shuffled on his feet, eye contact quickly over a he fiddled with the tool in his hand. “Guess I didn’t think a guy like me was worthy of your time”

Realisation struck. Of course he felt like that, you were a Harrington! It was in the name. This made you sad, and even more determined to continue hat you originally started, breaking free from the damn stereotype that came with your name.

“I thought you’d have gotten the hint by now” You answered sheepishly

Eddie perked up.

“Ive been trying to get your attention for weeks, asking for a pen? Eddie, I’m a straight A student, I would never go to class without a pen”

Eddie chuckled, “You could have forgotten”

There was a cough at the door, you both turning around to look at Eddies uncle. “I think the rest of the conversation can wait for tomorrow” He said sternly.

You nodded at the man, “Of course, ill head off”

You went to leave but were caught by Eddies grip on your elbow, “Do you wanna go out on Friday maybe?” It was rushed and awkward, Eddies uncle still watching over you and that same blush creeped back onto Eddies face.

“Like a date?”

Eddie nodded shyly, hair falling in his face conveniently to shield him.

“See you on Friday Munson.”

[fyodoro]

hello! can you do akito and toya [separately] with a male reader whos their singing partner, and after a good performance one day they just..confess.

like theyre just like “great concert!” “I am in love with you.”

Thanks in advance, take your time!

If Not You, Than Who?

Featuring Akito Shinonome and Toya Aoyagi

Jazzyyyy hi ty for requesting, I hope you like this cause this idea was rlly fun to write…

CW) swearing in Akito’s part, kissing smooch smooch, Toya is an awkward lover boy

Akito Shinonome

Akito could only dream of the day he could pour his heart out to you. For as long as he’s been your partner, he’d always get that warm bubbly feeling in his chest. It made him nauseous. He absolutely despised it. But he knew it would never go away; even if he were to confess it would only feel worse.

So he buried these feelings deep down. All he wants is to continue singing with you, no one else. If you were to reject him- then what would become of you two? Akito didn’t want too think of it, not risk it. ‘It’s for the best’ he’d think, despite knowing how big of a lie it was.

Of course his pining only got worse the more time he spent with you, probably at it’s absolute peak the day of the performance. Adrenaline coursed through Akito’s veins, not going unnoticed by you or the crowd. His voice boomed louder than ever, just loud enough to keep the crowd hyped and engaged. He felt lighter than ever, freely moving on the stage with out disrupting his or your’s singing. It was… entrancing too you.

The performance goes amazing, perfect even! You & Akito walked off stage receiving many compliments and positive feedback from the live-house staff. You gave him a light snack on the back with a huge grin.

“That was one of our bests yet, don’t ya think ‘Kito? You sounded amazing up there- oh and how well your voiced synced with mine! The crowd loved it!”

If Akito wasn’t feeling just as hyped as you were, he would have died on the spot. The nickname and all the compliments in just a few words from you would have been too much. For some reason, that only made the adrenaline increase.

“Yeah, that was amazing! And- fuck, (Name), I love you!”

He couldn’t stop himself, not now. And for some reason, he didn’t feel any embarrassment, in fact- he felt proud. And your reaction was only making him feel even more proud. You stared at him for a few seconds, letting his words sink in. If he loves you, then…

You placed your lips on Akito’s, who didn’t waste a moment to kiss back. It just felt right. Like a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders, he practically melted. You both pulled away , looking back at each other before chuckling.

“In case that didn’t make it go through your thick skull, I love you too, Akito.”

Toya Aoyagi

It’s not like Toya to be so upfront about his emotions, simply disliking displaying them on his face. Although he’d like too, it just doesn’t feel right to him. Because of this, Toya feels twice as much on the inside, in his heart. Which is why it didn’t take him too long to understand his infatuation with you.

You’d always be his singing partner, even if he had Akito, you were always going to be his partner. So Toya didn’t see a problem with confessing to you. Even if you rejected him, he could move on, he always does. The problem was finding the right time to confess. Somehow, any appealing moment to confess is quickly interrupted or ruined, slightly pissing him off over time.

The performance set for tonight wasn’t expected to be anything too major, just a simple performance at a live-house to get your names out there more. It was gonna be quick and go, nothing more nothing less. So why was he so pumped? Noticeably as well, which was certainly new.

On stage, his voice sang smoother than ever before, syncing up perfectly with your voice. The crowd loved it- cheers booming through the live-house as well as an exciting atmosphere. You both side-eyed each other, giving small smirks to one another. ‘This is going amazing’ you both thought in unison.

The live ended at the best moment, with the crowd still hyped but settled and the atmosphere making anyone forget about any sort of exhaustion they may have had. You waved at staff members while Toya smiled at them as they gave you two thumbs up and “nice job!”’s. Finally, you and Toya were alone together, not getting your ear drums blown out by any crowd or music.

“Toya, that was so good! How did we get the crowd so hyped like that? We barley had any high expectations for this! You did incredible.”

He wasn’t sure what to say in response, but he still knew it was now or never.

“We did great, didn’t we? And (Name), I know this may sound sudden, but I love you.”

He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, avoiding your gaze in fear of rejection. He tried to play it off cool, but the pink settling on his cheeks gave him away. You felt stunned, but none the less happy he finally said it.

Pulling him in by the waist, you softly but passionately kissed him. Toya was shocked, not even able to process this moment. He wish he kissed you back as you pulled away- but he was simply too stunned to do so.

“Toya, that means “I love you too.” And it’s ok to blink y’know?”

“Y-yeah.. sorry- can we do that again? So I can kiss you back this time of course…”

[sallysgrancanwrite]

Chapter Eleven

The next morning Chloe was up early so she could help Edith in the kitchen. She also wanted to get some shopping in. That might have to wait until tomorrow. She had checked her face this morning and thankfully there was no mark. She hurriedly took a shower, threw on some jeans and a sweatshirt and sat at her vanity. She brushed her and put it in a ponytail and put just a bit of foundation on. She bounced downstairs to find that Beth was still sleeping. She went back up and snuck in and jumped on the bed screaming; “Wake-up sleepy head.” And laughing. Beth however, was not so amused. She sat up and rubbed her eyes.

"Chloe you are horrible. Hells bells you scared me to death. I'll get showered and be right down."

"Don't rush on my account " Chloe replied.

Edith was having a hissy fit when Chloe got back to the kitchen.

"What is going on in here?" Chloe asked. "What's wrong Edith?”

"Where are you two girls? There's so much to do."

"Edith, calm down. We have most of the day. And the ladies will all be bringing appetizers too so there will be more than enough. "

"I'm here, what can I do?” Beth asked.

"Nothing,” said Chloe. “It's early in the morning and some of this is last minute stuff. Let's go take Edith and Bob out for breakfast. What do you think?"

"Oh that sounds great,” said Beth. “You two get ready and we'll take you out."

"I'm game!" said Bob. "Let's go"

"Well I'm not!” Edith cried. “There is too much to do to waste time."

"Taking time to feed yourself and be with family and friends is never a waste of time." Bob told her. "Now let's go and not waste time arguing about it.”

They arrived at the diner and took a seat at a booth in the back. Linda was there waitress. She was a sweetheart. She had short blond hair, kind of a stacked hairdo. Not a tall young lady, quite short actually. A little on the heavy side and a personality that was beautiful. She treated everyone so kind. She came over to their table.

"Hi y'all! How are ya this morning?"

"We're great!" said Beth "Has it been busy?"

"Naw. Really slow. Making the morning drag by."

"May I get your order?"

Bob wanted two over easy eggs with two strips of bacon and two sausages and toast. And of course coffee. Edith had what she does every morning, grits and toast and coffee. The girls split a veggie omelet.

"I'll be back with your order in a bit,” Linda said.

As they were sitting there Michael showed up.

"Chloe, may I have a word real quick, then you can get back."

"Sure," Chloe said looking at him. He looked odd.

They stepped outside where they might have some privacy.

"Sorry to bother y'all but I just wanted to give you a kiss and tell you to dress real pretty tonight." He was holding her hands so tight they were turning colors.

"Michael, your hurting me.”

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was doing that. Sorry."

"I'm going to give you my gift tonight." He said

"Not tonight honey,” she said. “Edith and Bob love to entertain friends. And it’s their night. It’s their 25th Anniversary. Let’s not take away from that. It's their night."

"Maybe I should ask them?" He asked

"Michael I said no! Not tonight! Whatever you have for me can wait."

"Why do you always put others before me?" He asked

“I don't, I have always put you before my friends and loved ones. This one time I'm asking you not to come first.”

As she turned to walk away he grabbed her arm with such force she had to fight not to scream.

“Don’t ever walk away from me like that.”

He let go of her arm and apologized if he hurt her. He was just letting his emotions get in the way.,

“Go on back to your family, I’ll talk to you later. I love you, and sorry if I’ve ruined the day now.”

“You haven’t. We’re going to have a lot of fun tonight, I promise.“ she said.

As she walked away he knew it was time to make sure he didn’t lose her to someone else. He loved her and wasn’t going to lose her…ever. Even if he had to wait a day. She had to have the best and most expensive ring at the jewelers. After looking for quite some time he spotted one he thought would be perfect. It wasn’t the most expensive one there but she would love it. It was 14k Rose Gold Morganite. The main diamond was being held by a rose gold flower bud in the center and on each side were two diamonds then two rose gold roses and finally after each rose is a row of fifteen small diamonds going down the side of the ring. It sparkled so bright, just like Chloe’s smile. She brought joy to him and she deserves this ring..Tonight may not be the night to remember but he wouldn't be put off long.

Chloe, Beth and Edith got busy in the kitchen. Chloe started making the Cowboy Caviar. She started by draining the black beans, corn and black eyed peas. In a separate bowl she mixed vinegar, olive oil, sugar, salt and garlic powder. She stirred that until thoroughly combined.then added in the beans, black eye peas and corn she drained and started chopping a some red bell peppers, onion and jalapeños. Finally she added some thinly sliced scallions. Put tortilla chips on the side and you have a delicious dip everyone goes wild over. Beth was saying deviled eggs. Edith was making the sausage balls so Chloe started making the pimento cheese for the crackers. Then she made the Rotel dip. They were going to have plenty of food tonight. The ladies were all bring something as well as everything that Edith and the girls were doing. Beth started the bacon wrapped little smokies. Time for some sweets.

Chloe started the peach cobblers. She was making more than one as they were always a hit. Edith was baking her famous German chocolate cake. Everyone loved it so you was making two Lemon bars, banana pudding, key lime pie, sweet potato pie, and pecan pie rounded out the menu. Bob was getting the bar set up. He was worried it wouldn't be enough liquor so he went and picked up a couple more boxes. Most of the town would be here tonight.

By late afternoon they all ran to get cleaned up and changed. Chloe jumped into the shower and then sat at the vanity to relax a moment. She finally grabbed some foundation and applied it along with eyeshadow. She chose a gold shimmer eyeshadow. She finished with her eyeliner and mascara. She looked in the mirror and decided she needed some lipstick and chose a mat maroon-ish, red- ish color. She combed her hair and twisted it into a French twist and put a beautiful gold butterfly clip with small crystal beads hang from it. She got up and slipped on a black mini dress with hose and heels. She was ready to go. Michael should be here any minute.

She went downstairs and everyone was ready just in time to greet the guests.

Samantha, the local lawyer showed up with a bottle of champagne and looking as beautiful as ever and she had brought a date, Ben. Martha and Dan, the grocery store owners came and brought a bottle of wine. LuLu showed up, Curtis from the hardware store came bearing a gift of wine. I think there will be no worry about running out of drinks tonight.

As Chloe watched everyone arrive she continued to look out for Michael. He knew this night was important to her and most of all to Edith and Bob. How could he be this late? She kept busy help get the food set out for everyone and getting drinks served. Somehow she got stuck behind the bar. She didn't mind though, it gave her a view of the front door so she could see when Michael got there. Boy was he getting a chewing out.

As the night progressed, everyone was having a great time eating and having some drinks and then Edith brought out the decorations for the 9 foot tree they had.

"Okay everyone, grabbed some ornaments and let's decorate the tree. Doesn't matter where you put it. " Edith told everyone.

Chloe went through the motions but wasn't feeling it. Michael had stood her up. How could he! Beth came up to her to introduce her date Steven. He was very nice clean cut . Not usually Beth's type. Beth pulled her aside and asked her,

"What's up with you tonight? You're so down. We're supposed to be having fun and you look great."

"Michael stood me up and didn't show up,” she cried

"Oh honey, there must be a reason. You'll find out and things will be fine."

"I know why. He's mad because I wouldn't let him give me my gift tonight and take any attention off Edith and Bob. He's throwing a tantrum. Let him."

"Just call him, you don't know that."

"Okay. I'll call now. Thanks.”

Chloe went to her room where it was quiet and called Michael. It went to voice-mail. She got mad.

"Michael, I know you’re listening, just pickup the phone and stop this right now."

"He picked the phone up and yelled,

"What the hell do you want? I gave you the precious night with friends and family. Now you’re mad at me?" Go enjoy your evening and leave me alone."

With that he hung up. Chloe was so shocked she just sat there. Is this the man I love? The man I dreamt about spending my life with? What just happened? This was to be a wonderful evening. She fell into a heap on her bed and cried.

[blight-illusions]

Dear Edric {One Shot}

Starts June 15th, End June 19th

Immediately after Prom Edric is summoned back home and the time spent is really not great.

Triggers: Child Abuse

Dear Edric,

We’re happy to congratulate you on your graduation. After three years away from home the Illusion coven has lifted the ban on you and your sister and you are welcomed to come back.

However with the fall of your sister your new task is to take over the family business.

We look forward to seeing you soon.

Sincerely,

Your Parents.

_________

I’ll be there after Prom. I’ve agreed to take Kleo Schreiber to Prom and I can not ruin the Blight name by not going now.

-Edric

________

Edric wasn’t about to put off the trip back home any longer. Staying the extra couple weeks to go to prom was long enough and while no other letters came he knew his parents were seething.

He had spent years away from them but he didn’t forget the fear that he had standing in front of them. 

The train ride, the flight, had Edric pulling at his tongue ring, biting off the nail polish that had been freshly applied for prom.

By the time he had gotten home he barely had any nail polish on and he was sure his tongue was bleeding from the piercing. 

But he had no time to waste, even heading straight home Odalia was taping her heels waiting for him.

“Did you expect us to wait any longer? If you are to be responsible for this business nothing else is important. Be mindful before you make commitments that would ruin our family name.” Odalia huffed waving him off.

“Go now, Alador is waiting at the factory you will go straight there.” Odalia tsked, “Carry your stuff with you. So eager to see your Father you headed straight there.” She turned on her heel heading back into and slamming the door shut in his face.

Edric sighed but this was the least of his concerns carrying a duffle bag a little longer, he wasn’t expecting to eat until the end of the day at this rate until he fulfilled whatever goal Odalia wanted him to accomplish.

And so he worked at the factory, hands buried in mud and clay to get used to the materials. Told the moment something he did wrong which was often. He wasn’t an abomination speciality. He didn’t understand intricacies. 

“I do not know what your Mothers aims to gain having you take over the business. You would ruin it the same as any other. You think you can accomplish this with a talent of illusions?” The taunts were plentiful as the day progressed.

After dealing with the abominations they moved him to the paperwork, to the accounting, the ideas the R&D.

“You’re lucky you even have the Blight name you would be useless without it. - More useless than you already are.”

The moment he stopped to even rest his eyes, to try and lesson the headache forming more books slammed down on the table.

“Continue reading. If you think you’re smart enough to rest you’re not.”

The comments only got worse when Odalia visited and saw his lack of progress. (Three books read vs the eight that were given.)

“At this rate I hope you don’t expect to head home tonight. We expect so much more from you if expect to take over the business. IF you do not want to ruin the Blight name. The whole reason you’re so late.”

“Yes Mother.” 

It was 3am before Edric stopped working, his own notes as thick as the books he was reading himself. 

If he fell asleep now, if he didn’t wake up before his parents got back he would be in for a lot worse.

Pushing himself up Edric abandoned the books, opening the door slowly to make sure no one else was around before heading into the night.

He didn’t have long, maybe three hours at most when he headed out, no plan, no one he could see. No one he could turn to. Not here. Not anywhere.

Heading to the looking glass ruins, Edric sought out a certain grave resting his hand on his friend’s grave as he closed his eyes.

Until a small squeak was heard. Looking around Edric glanced at the small bat as it flew at him.

“Hello there. Are you attacking me or?” Edirc questioned grabbing the creature by it’s legs. “Plus why are you out here? Abandoned?”

The Bat squeaked and flapped his wings wildly until Edric let him go and the palisman nuzzled into his shoulder.

“Well at least there was one good thing about coming back home. You’re as lonely as me huh?”

Another squeak.

“I shouldn’t be lonely but sometimes I look at where all of us are. Amity failed, she fell from her perfect child status and yet everyone loves her still. Her friends fight for her. I have Phineas but am I only cursed to only have one person to trust me outside of my family.” Edric mused scratching under it’s chin.

“It’s stupid I know. I get so bothered by people just living their lives but it’s only recently that I’ve really felt like I could live mine. And now- now I’m supposed to come back and learn to run this company? Today was horrible and it’s the first day back. I’m going to have to speedrun being their perfect kid.” Edric shuddered at the thought.

All those training exercises him and his sisters went through as a child. Stuck out in the boiling rain, training until they could stand until they could see stars.

The words, the manipulations.

Edric couldn’t do it. 

He couldn’t not again.

And in two hours with no sleep and no food he would have to.

Maybe if he could just rest for an hour or two. Edric sat down closing his eyes. “Wake me up in two hours.” Edric mumbled to his new little bat friend.

Edric awoke to the bat biting his nose launching up he let out a yelp as he grabbed the bat and pulled him off. 

“Excuse you!” Edric got ready to scold him before glancing at the rising sun.

“Oh shit!” Scrambling up Edric took off for the factory. He was so screwed.

The Bat flew beside him as he booked it back.

Rushing into the factory he slide to a stop infront of Alador.

“Do you think this is a joke? We are giving you a chance to prove you are worthy of the Blight name and yet you goof off. These notes aren’t nearly as detailed enough. Did you retain anything from yesterday?” The lecture continued and continue and Edric listened to every word. 

Not because he wanted to.

But because he knew the repercussions.

Eventually Edric was let go with nothing else than all his notes burned and the promise of another meal taken away.

But Alador hadn’t noticed the little bat and as Edric flopped back down for a long day taking notes the bat curled up and turned to wood sleeping underneath the table. And so although he wasn’t alone he wasn’t really alone.

The next few days passed all the same.

Long hours, words of not affirmation and missed meals when he got an email.

“I’ll have to go back for my graduation. For image sake you know.” Edric stated softly, his usual confidence a little more meak.

“Yes I suppose so. For image sake at the very least. Continue to make connections to the Schreiber girl. She and her family will be useful at some point.”

Edric nodded, if he had his way he wasn’t coming back. He couldn’t.

He just needed to figure out how to not come back.

[the-firebird69]

Have a couple more announcements as time to get some rest

-our son was kind of trapped in here today. John remillard gave him trouble and it's because he is fixing a hole where he was trying to get in and we did have him looking and we looked in and people looked in and it looks okay and we can see it very openly candles it doesn't look bad and the vent stack is kind of leaking it's not good and it's sealed in now and the boot will go over it and we had a lot of trouble with John or even Lord today a lot of problems with him all over town in here and he should not be on the job he tried to screw it up three or four times we don't want him here and we want people to hire for something else send them somewhere else we don't want to working here and we don't want to working there our son a lot of people don't and I guess you guys are going to use them for stress to try and get here and the sooner empire is sick of you we're sick of you let him talk it's John remillard himself is very sick of you you ruined his fortune and his armies and you suck bags and everyone's going to die because of what you did and start a fight with them the trumps and you start to fight with the pseudo empire and he knows it's you BJ and that's what happens and it was still sick of you are you constant demands and you're whining droning it's terrible but he had to rest and it was kind of tough and he rested just kind of sat there now we have some more news

-we think that you constantly changing him and bothering him his cause so much damage you should know but you still have a lot of the populace it's still at 30% when you were at 55% and you don't notice a change cuz that's way too many you say and you're sick really really sick pigs and you don't notice about work because you don't like to work and you have weapons and stuff so sucks to be you you're stupid 2.5% out of 8%. It's nothing to sneeze about and bja and Trump used to make up 20% out of that 25% that's missing you think they'd slow down that's a lot it's mostly these assholes and it does not count the clothes who still number and about 17% on top of the population it's crazy this way too many idiots.

-we have major major attacks planned because we have to and some hefty stuff is going to come out and lay it away and you're going to be surprised it will lay you to waste and you'll be surprised and blame all sorts of things it's coming up pretty quick from this constant torment

-we also have a lot of stuff going on in the way of projects large large construction projects and for real on Earth on the surface in the middle areas and outside and if you got and your horse s*** and your Ricky dick s*** your assinine behavior you warlock has created an atmosphere of hatred of you that hasn't been present for a long time. Her son and daughter are upset it's terrible I know what it's like you're horrible horrible idiots you need to leave so we can help you leave we have things for you to do and for real eight more percent it's not a huge number the islands but well

-additional to the evacuation of Florida there's an evacuation of the mainland areas to the islands of all the warlock including pseudo empire they have some islands and they're going tonight and tomorrow and this whole week and so on tonight but that's significant and about 80% of it is Mac morlock excluding the student empire pseudo so that would be another percent 3.5% out of the eight pieces to 4.5% off Island plan on attacking the pseudo empire weather is your percent goes ahead or not and that would be another 1% down to 3.5%. has potentially that number by tomorrow morning laser bases and bunkers around the max our targeted.

I'm saying this because you act invincible and you know the odds and you know you're shrinking just want to see why

-today was a good day in town John remillard got fired from 5:00 jobs in punta Gorda that's five and he was laid off from 10 others and that's a lot and those jobs were ranking jobs and he is going to try and fire at PGA tomorrow from Port Charlotte but bja plants to fire him and from the sheriff and PD and so on but the evacuation will bring them only to 14.5 which is half of what they were last year and they're still going to have a lot of people for the most part in this area they're not going to the rings unless they're going to attack so they're going to wait we think the attack will be held off they're getting some things it might even be for almost a week to be a lot of annoying phone calls

-things are getting Jarred loose in Massachusetts Timmy is fighting and very hard and for his life against the trumpsters right now he's redoubling his efforts and tripling his efforts every hour and laying them to waste finding them and hitting and removing them is very fast and very rough. We anticipate within the next couple days it might move and with that John remillard will be too confident and he will try his death race and the move in westborough and a few other things and eventually he will lose and get strapped to Brad so someone knows what they're saying

-additionally to these battles and really wars and there's a big war developing in the Mojave and the Grand canyon area up near Utah and it's gigantic and they want to know what's down there they have sensors that are going nuts they have strange things and some really big stuff they're seeing what looks like men Frozen in the Earth. And women but really bulky it's hard to tell their women and it's going on now.

-there's some questions coming out of the very important and they're pretty good sized. He says if I'm living here my poops are not going to make it

-we have other things happening and they're important but we're going to post

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zues Hera

[councillor-roland]

Oh, this was bad. This was very, very bad so much so that it was distracting Roland from the absolute disaster that the dinner had been. Not that it had been much of a dinner when they hadn't even gotten around to eating before chaos erupted. It had only been a matter of time before that happened, though, Roland had really expected nothing less. All of that paled in comparison to this sudden realisation. It didn't stop him from pulling Rhys against him, though, or noticing how right it felt when the other man's arms were around him. "You should always listen to me." He responded, almost absently. Roland wound his arms around Rhys in return, almost too tightly because...because he couldn't do this. As much as he wanted it, as much as it felt right, as much as the thought of even a single day without Rhys was painful...he couldn't let this happen. Rhys was mortal, he clearly had no interest in eternity, and even if he had a witch's extended lifespan it would end eventually. Roland would not, could not do that to himself, not after he'd barely survived losing Alix. In spite of the maelstrom of his thoughts and emotions, he still paid attention to what Rhys was saying. "You wanted to keep the peace. It was admirable, if misguided." His voice betrayed nothing of what was going on underneath, his tone fond as usual. He might've said something else to distract both of them when a sudden downpour drenched them. Roland blinked before his attention was drawn to Seth storming out of the restaurant, the vampire's eyes narrowed as Seth fired insults at them. Compared to the cambion's they weren't that bad but still uncalled for.

Roland was about to fire back a scathing retort when he caught Rhys' quiet apology and looked at him to ask what he was apologizing for...only to find himself in the familiar surroundings of his suite. He blinked and frowned a little since that had clearly been a lot of magic quickly and Rhys didn't look comfortable. He let the witch pull away, though, even if his instinct was to pull him closer and comfort him. An instinct, he reminded himself, he would need to start suppressing and quickly. "Rhys..." The tone was both concerned and mildly disapproving. The witch knew Roland had a vested interest in his well being and never liked seeing him push himself too far as it seemed he may have done now. He let out a breath and shook his head at the apology. It was hardly Rhys' fault. He'd gone there in good faith and been attacked mercilessly for it. Reviewing the insults still made Roland's blood boil a little and his fists clench. He tried to focus on what Rhys was saying instead. "Don't waste any time making excuses for that cambion. He's not worth it." He wasn't worth anything and in spite of all of these things he was realising he still fully intended on ruining him even if....even if he wasn't with Rhys. The topic turned to Seth and Roland shook his head. "I expected better of him given your high opinion of him. It will take some doing to put him back in my good graces." Not that it would matter...after tonight. Roland could give them tonight, at least. They both likely needed it. Just the thought was painful but he knew he would have to distance himself from Rhys, cut himself off quickly and totally because then maybe...maybe it wouldn't be true. Maybe it just felt like love but it was familiarity and once it was removed and he got through the withdrawaal...maybe he would be safe.

Roland was a little surprised when Rhys asked about him, focusing back in on the conversation instead of being lost in himself. Damn. Clearly Rhys could sense that he was....going through something. He'd have to try and spin it so that it seemed like it was just his anger about the whole situation. "I'm incensed by what he said to you. He'd be lucky to be mud on your boots and yet he dares insult you like that?" Roland shook his head, that all having the benefit of being true, his ire roused again and real. Hopefully that would cover everything else. "You don't deserve it. What he said and whatever else has been said that's worse. You're better than all of that." Roland closed the distance between them again, cupping Rhys' face and kissing him, like he was using the action to soothe them both. Maybe he was and maybe he was also trying to get in as many kisses and touches as he could before...before he cut it all off. He kissed him a little harder at that thought, an edge of desperation to the action that he couldn't seem to help.

continued from here.

It was entirely plausible that it could’ve gone worse. It hadn’t gone well, that much was abundantly clear, but knowing that it could have been worse helped to placate some of Rhys’ concerns. Roland’s response to Shade’s targeted character assassination had been a sight to behold and was partially why Rhys hadn’t bothered to say much more than he had – after what had been dished out, what more was there to say? Once they were both outside, Rhys finally granted himself the privilege of releasing the exhausted sigh he’d been restraining since they’d stepped inside. There was something off about Roland’s emotional state and though it was likely easier to pin it entirely on the disagreements that had occurred only moments prior, a brief inspection of the councilman’s aura and, consequently, emotional well-being, quickly informed him there was more to the picture. He leaned almost instinctively into Roland’s embrace, coming to a halt to bury his face against Roland’s neck with a muffled noise of tired exasperation. “Should’ve listened to you,” he mumbled solemnly, wrapping his arms tightly around Roland’s waist to keep him as close as he physically could now that they were in a slightly calmer environment and he could just about think straight again. “We never should’ve shown up. Don’t know why I thought that might work.” He remained in place for a short while, simply pleased to have some sense of normality return after the vibrant display indoors. As he pulled back to straighten up, he’d been moments away from addressing the gradually growing issue of Roland’s emotional discomfort when it seemed as if the heavens themselves opened up and unleashed a torrent of rain, followed by the sound of the restaurant’s door flying open and Seth’s voice accompanying it which quickly redirected his immediate attention. He sneered at the younger witch’s remarks, his disapproval painfully explicit. Hadn’t enough been said by now? Was the desperate need to have the last word really that important? He didn’t rise to the bait as it was offered, merely content with letting his expression speak volumes for him instead. 

The second the last word left the younger witch, Rhys focused all of his attention and strength on not fucking up, tightening his grip around Roland and murmuring a quiet apology before he pushed his conjuration magic to its limits to teleport them both back to Roland’s suite to escape the side effects of Seth’s ire. A sharp exhale of discomfort left him once they were indoors and he untangled himself from Roland to catch his breath, trying to shake off the toll of pushing himself a little too far too quickly in record time. “I’m sorry about that. All of that,” he said after a few moments of silence, straightening himself up to look not quite as exhausted as he felt. “Next time I try to drag you into something like that again, feel free to remind me of this night. Seems like trying to keep the peace was a fucking awful idea. Should’ve known from the start that Dempsey’s incapable of being even halfway decent at the best of times. As for Seth…” Rhys clicked his tongue in disappointment and cut his gaze to the floor, seemingly lost for words for a moment. “Please don’t take on board anything he said. Tensions were high. I’ll… talk to him at some point. Try and get things ironed out. More importantly, though…” Hesitantly, he glanced back up to hold Roland’s gaze. “Are you okay? Don’t bullshit me. Something’s bothering you. I can see it. Is it just ‘cause of what went down in there? If so, you don’t have to hold onto it. It’s fine. I’ve had a lot worse hurled my way than the little display Shade put on.”

@councillor-roland

[tired-biscuit]

Confident

Pairing: Kiba/fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ mdni, fem!reader // modern au. very soft, very insecure virgin!kiba. praise kink. mentions of a breeding kink. soft, cuddly and fluffy sexy time.

Word count: 7.1k

Summary: Having the house entirely to yourself is considered a cherished rarity. So, when your parents finally leave you in the safe hands of your loving boyfriend, under the pretense that you'll be doing nothing but watching movies, it's no surprise that you're about to use the chance in your favour.

IT'S nearly eight o'clock when Kiba shows up at your front door for your stay-at-home date.

Your boisterous boyfriend is nothing but eager smiles and happy chatter as he steps inside the hallway of your house when you push the door open wider for him. 

Tiny droplets of water drip from his otherwise dark grey jacket that's currently saturated into an inky shade of black. You can hear the irregular pitter-patter whenever they land on the wooden floorboards. He's creating a puddle just by standing there.

Kiba is completely soaked from being caught in the unannounced downpour that's currently raging on the other side of the door you've just closed. He looks like a lost puppy; drenched to the bone like that, but doesn't seem to mind it, apparently.

The ends of his tousled hair are clinging to his flushed face before he shakes his head and runs a hand through the wet, chestnut curls in attempt of pulling them back from his forehead. It doesn't really help, but points for effort?

You chuckle when he shoves the plastic grocery bag full of snacks into your hand before he crouches down to untie his shoes. He's telling you all about his day as he kicks the heavy boots off; happily running his mouth on how he had just bought a new game on his Nintendo Switch and had indeed spent - more so wasted - the entire day by playing it.

"So, anyway," Kiba says as he stands up to his full height again, "I was thinkin' we could play it? It's got a two-player mode, I've checked. Oh, and I also downloaded a couple of movies to a USB, if you wanna watch something instead."

He's towering over your bearing inside the narrow hallway as he stares down at you with shiny, keen eyes of amber. The dimple inside his rosy cheek deepens when one corner of his mouth tugs to the side. He's smiling somewhat expectantly now; showing you his pretty teeth.

You, on the other hand, can't stop staring at him. He's just so fucking cute whenever he gets excited over something as simple as video games. Over the course of your relationship, you've come to learn that Kiba's otherwise wild flurry of joy is often easily appeased.

It makes you wonder if the same fact stands in a different, more intimate setting.

The truth is: you want to ruin that exact sweet, brutish purity that surrounds your boyfriend in that moment. To spoil it entirely by taking his virginity and making him yours completely and in every single aspect. The desire to grab it and brand it with your name is thrilling. You've been thinking about it ever since he had told you that he had never been touched before.

And tonight - with your home rid of your nosy parents and riotous siblings for at least a couple more hours - it seems to be the perfect time to accomplish that very task. If he lets you, that is.

You've talked about it before. Just nothing definite yet.

"Well," the thought coaxes you to trail off in answer, prolonging the last letter into a slightly higher pitch, "I was thinking we could do something else, actually."

"Yeah?" Kiba is unzipping his jacket now, revealing the forest green sweater underneath. You try not to ogle at the way the thick cotton tightens around his strong biceps when he drapes the jacket over the hanger to dry. Goddamn, he's so fit, tall - bulky. Your mouth is nearly watering from how good the muted colour compliments his golden skin tone. "What is it that you wanna do, babe?"

He doesn't seem upset that you've just sneakily shut down his offer of playing the stupid game or watching the action movies he likes. Just curious.

His quizzical look makes your teeth sink into your bottom lip. You repress the urge to tell him that you indeed want to do him. That you've been wanting to do him for a long while, actually.

Christ, you're so touch-deprived that it's sad in a way. But it's not like it's Kiba's fault. Your rowdy boyfriend has been nothing but a sweetheart during the entirety of your relationship; crushing you in tight bear hugs and kissing you senseless for the last three months you've been together.

He's practically spoiled you rotten with never-ending affections, however the problem is that they aren't enough. Never have been.

You're greedy. Corrupt. You want to take everything he has to offer and place your own mark upon it. Until he's completely yours and yours alone. Some may call it possessive, but you're just madly in love.

"Babe," Kiba repeats slowly, quirking one dark brow when you don't reply. The chill of his lips nudges you back to life when they press against your cheek in a doting peck, "You doin' all ri-... Mmph!"

Before you can convince yourself to do otherwise, your head whips to the side in one quick motion. Kiba's little gasp of surprise is cut off as you trap his mouth into a proper kiss before he can even finish uttering the word out completely. 

His plush lips are still cold from the wind that's howling outside, but they're fast to warm up the moment the tip of your tongue darts out to stroke one tenderly. It's like you're pouring liquid sunshine right into his mouth.

Kiba isn't entirely sure what's going on with you all of a sudden, but he still allows you to kiss him even more deeply by opening his mouth a fraction wider and fluttering his thick eyelashes shut. He likes it whenever you kiss him first. It makes him feel appreciated. Wanted.

So he complies.

Your tongue forces its way inside now - gliding over every crevice and each flat surface of his front teeth. You trace the roof of his mouth. Taste the echo of sugar the watermelon chewing gum has left behind. He's always been fond of chewing that specific flavour that you don't even particularly like, but it surprisingly doesn't bother you if you taste it from his saliva alone.

He can feel your fingernails scraping the front of his thick sweater as you make out with him with passion in the form of a blazing fire of which he has indeed caught mellow flickers and sparks of in these past few weeks. 

The unfamiliar sensation is making his heart swell up to the point where his ribcage feels too small to contain it. He wants to back up to find some stability, but only ends up being pushed against the door by you instead.

He's bigger than you; stronger. But this is unfamiliar territory you're forcing him to trek on. It makes him feel small, both in body and spirit.

Your hands are running up and down his broad chest, thoroughly feeling the erratic heartbeat and shaky breaths before you reach up and cup his face. Even his skin is tight and cold from the lousy weather outside, as well as in contrast to your otherwise warm palms. The icy sensation only spikes the thrill you feel somewhere deep within you.

A quiet groan rumbles inside the back of his throat when your nimble digits shoot up and tangle into the hair on the nape of his neck. His entire body is growing hot underneath the somewhat indecent touch. The adrenaline to course his veins is making his temperature rise all too quickly for it to be considered healthy. 

Along with something else, it seems.

You feel the persistent, hard outline of his now-waking cock. The surge of hot blood makes Kiba's pants tighten to an unbearable degree as it pokes against your thigh when you press yourself further against him. He nearly shudders when your hand dips down to trace the ridge of him. He's so sensitive that it hurts.

His entire body turns rigid as soon as you let out a gasping, tiny noise of eager satisfaction, which he's never heard you make before. Kiba doesn't pull away when you apply more pressure to feel him out better. He just stands there; gears turning in the speed of light and practically beginning to smolder from how hard he's trying to focus as you continue to own his mouth with your own.

Goodness, he's big as far as you can tell from just running your fingers over the bulge. The newly-discovered knowledge makes you even more excited than you already are. You've sexted a bit, but he's never sent you pictures or videos. You've had nothing but your imagination and porn to satisfy your demanding and growing needs on lonely nights when he wasn't around to take care of you.

Until now, that is. Now, you have him right where you want him.

"Baby," Kiba breathes in-between one especially feverish kiss, his lips long since swollen and red from the intensity, "your mom and dad-"

"Aren't gonna be home in at least a few more hours," you cut him off in an instant. The smacking pop! to echo between your lips when they part from his own makes him blush as you add softly, "so don't you worry, babe. We're completely alone."

His brows knit tightly together when you unleash your love upon his panting mouth once more. He's silent for a moment, however the hushed, muffled compliance allows relief to wash over you as he finally utters a meek, "Mm'kay."

You just want him so bad.

And it seems that he wants you just as much.

Kiba leans down; looming over your shorter frame so that you can kiss him more deeply again. The thin, glistening strings of saliva between your mouths break and connect with every ardent brush of lip as you nearly try to devour him with each stroke your tongue gives. It's just you and him inside the dimly-lit hallway, but the space feels way too crammed to breathe properly. Not that you're trying to, anyway.

You've kissed him before, though never like this. He isn't completely sure if he's reacting properly as he caresses your cheek with his big, rough hand and angles your head to the side so that he can kiss you better, but he prays that it's the right thing to do.

Your breathing staggers in the back of your throat when he lets out another hushed groan as you fondle him. He bucks his hips forward; avidly pushing further into your hand to feel your touch more precisely as his own squeezes your jaw so harshly that it aches. 

You make that cute, little noise as soon as your fingers tighten around the denim of his pants, forcing him to push forward again. It's the act of pure instinct. He doesn't know how to control it.

Kiba feels like a feral, roaring animal that's been set loose and allowed to sink its fangs into anything it desires as you stroke him over the layers of clothes he's wearing. The hormones to flood his brain make him unable to think straight like a proper human. He's more beast than man in that moment.

Your voice is more of a coo than anything else when you look him in the glazed, dark eyes and ask, "Wanna go to my room?"

Kiba seems completely dazed as he replies with a slow, breathless, "Mhmm, yeah."

He follows you to your bedroom without a single complaint; drenched jacket and grocery bag full of snacks long since forgotten by the feeling of your tongue roaming the inside of his mouth. He's got way better and more important things on his mind than to think about food and movies.

The anticipation of whatever is about to happen is going to eat him alive. It makes his head hurt.

A hushed grunt slips out when your palms press against his chest and push him until the back of his knees hit the edge of your bed. He falls back, rigid spine hitting the mattress, but before he can even take a single breath, you're already on him; straddling his lap and pressing both delicate palms on each side of his head.

Your boyfriend stares up at you with honey eyes wide open, tender bottom lip trembling slightly as he feels you sit down on the part that is currently his most sensitive one. He sucks in a sharp breath through gritted teeth when you roll your hips against him; hissing lowly as your clothed pussy makes contact for the first time with his dick.

The tiny pyjama shorts you're wearing are so flimsy that the way his zipper rubs against you feels straight up euphoric. Your panties are getting drenched just by the mere idea of getting filled up to the brim by your loving significant other. 

The arousal you feel only makes your senses heighten when he traces his hands up your bare thighs carefully. Goosebumps form over the bare skin he touches. You're not entirely sure if he understands just how fucking attracted you are to him.

Kiba stops when he reaches your hips, nervous fingers twitching around the cotton of your t-shirt. He squeezes the curves hesitantly. It's riveting.

He's clearly lost; unsure about what to do now. It only makes you grind against him again because you're hungry for the friction, absolutely starved for it, actually.

"Babe," Kiba whines quietly at the sensation, face blooming bright pink from how good it feels, "god-goddamn."

He's going to cum inside his pants if you keep torturing him like this. It's like heaven and hell in one.

"What do you wanna do to me, Kiba," you whisper, kissing the edge of his jaw, "touch me? Fuck me, maybe? Do you wanna make me moan your name out?"

Your lewd words make his blush deepen to a worrisome shade. He wants to go all the way, that he's sure of. He's wanted it for a while, but never knew how to initiate it properly, and thus never really attempted to take that step to make it happen. 

Kiba is complex, after all. A person far too prideful to admit his incompetence; rather shoving it far away behind a facade of arrogance than facing it properly.

He hates being embarrassed. Despises being made fun of. He's sensitive and tender underneath all that hard exterior that he wears every day like a knight's armour, and should be treated delicately, carefully as such. His otherwise immense confidence sometimes thins out like it's made of precious porcelain. 

It shatters just as easily, if handled too harshly by a person he cares about. And he cares about you - a lot, in fact. 

So, as he looks up at your warm smile and lustful eyes, he can't stop worrying about what'll happen if he doesn't perform the way you want him to. Sure, he knows that you love him and that he's scored the sweetest, most supportive girlfriend he could ever wish for, but what if he loses all of that because he doesn't know how to satisfy you? Will you be mad at him? Disappointed, even?

What if...? What if, what if, what if?

He's got insecurities - loads of them. He's just very clever at hiding them.

And yes, Kiba understands that you're not shallow enough to provoke them into showing themselves and later pointing them out with a judgemental index finger - of course he does, however he doesn't want to be just average, like he's been with pretty much everything else in his life.

He wants none of that stupid, insignificant rivalry that's been haunting him ever since he was a little kid as he keeps trying to stand out and prove that he's the best. None of that sticky feeling of disappointment that he gets whenever he compares himself to other people and realizes that there will always be others who are better than him - even to this day, at the age of nineteen.

So, all Kiba wants; is to be enough for once. To be your personal number one - your very favourite. 

Luckily for him, he has you to help him achieve that, and he realizes it by just the way you're looking at him now: so tenderly and sweetly - with such profound love and affection, that simply refuses to yield to his apparent hesitancy. 

You'll take care of him and spoil him, until he'll start seeing stars, but will still feel like he's the one in charge of placing them on the night sky in the first place. You'll make sure that his pride remains untouched. You'll make him feel good, and teach him how to make you feel just as good, too. Shape him and sculpt him into something worthy enough of all your love.

It's time he pushed past this obstacle. To offer himself to you completely, and show you all of his layers - even the raw and vulnerable ones that he doesn't particularly like about himself. It's time that he allowed for someone else to take the reins and lead the way.

"I-I want-..." He breathes in deeply, blinking profusely up at you. His face is burning so intensely that it tingles as he murmurs, "I want you. But I don't know how, you know that I've never-... I've never... Mm."

He clamps his lips shut because his pride won't let him admit what he's told you over text two months ago; the vivid redness that takes over his entire face bright and hot to the touch. 

A faint glimmer of merriment shines in your eyes at his answer as you stare at him softly. "You want me to help you out?"

Kiba looks up, the amber within his eyes recoiling at how kind and cautious you are with him. How hard you're trying to make him feel comfortable enough. And it's that first step that he takes in revealing his fragile heart that makes your own sing when he takes your offered, helping hand and says, "Yeah... I'd like that."

"Okay," you say, placing a soft kiss upon his awaiting mouth, "I'll help you."

The smile you gift him makes his pulse pound right behind his ears. You're just so wonderful and he's so madly in love with you. He can't help it.

He sighs when he feels your fingers hook around the hem of his green sweater, so that you can hike it up. "All right." His eyes flicker all over the room before he adds a quiet: "Thank you."

"No worries, baby."

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you focus on the tan, rippling muscles of his abs that gradually come into view with every inch of his sweater being pushed farther up. You've seen him shirtless before in the summer, but it means something more intimate this time around. Might be because you're the one to actually undress him. To touch him.

"You're such a pretty boy, Kiba," you utter, reaching his ribs, "my pretty boy."

Your nails trace the outline of firm muscles. His toned stomach flexes underneath the ticklish touch; recoiling and spasming as he's trying to catch his breath. He's grunting every time you touch him. Everything feels so intense.

"So fit and strong."

Kiba looks like he's on the verge of passing out from how insecure and small he feels at the doting compliments you keep throwing his way. The warmth of his cheek nearly sears your skin when you kiss it before nudging him to lift both of his arms so that you can tug off the sweater and the t-shirt that he's wearing underneath.

You toss his clothes onto the floor without a second thought as soon as you're done, your hands finding home on his tight body again; exploring every inch of his firm torso. He's growing so hot underneath you that you're somewhat surprised that there isn't any actual steam spiraling from his sun-kissed skin.

His jaw clicks into place when you trail your touch down his sides and trace a single, straight line along his waist with the tip of your index finger. Your eyes keep flicking between his face and his abs, which he clenches everytime your digit strikes him. He's so responsive that you can barely contain yourself.

You watch him carefully as your fingers curl around his belt buckle. He jumps a bit at the sudden touch. "You doin' okay so far?"

He seems to be completely zoning out as he stares up at you with amber eyes that are so glossy that you're wondering how you can't see your own reflection in them yet. He glides his tongue along his front teeth when he spurts out a quick, "Yes."

"Yeah, handsome?" Your smirk is playfully teasing as you tap your nail against the titanium buckle of his belt a couple of times, "Are you gonna let me see what's hiding underneath here, now?"

He looses a sheepish chuckle at the compliment before smiling feebly. "Yeah."

"Good." You flick the tip of his nose quickly to make him relax, "'Cause I'm really curious to see what you look like."

He sounds so on edge and nervous when he hums, "Mhmmm."

You undo the belt buckle as he pushes upwards, resting his weight on his elbows so that he can see you better. His face is just so goddamn red as he fixes his gaze on your expert hands that are now undoing the button and zipper of his pants. He's nearly frowning from how intensely he's focusing. 

Your voice is soft like a purr of a kitten, "Are you all right with me taking these off?"

He confirms it with a short nod of his head and a quiet, "Yes."

Currently, he reminds you nothing of his usually loud, boisterous self. There isn't a trace of that wild, untamed spirit that you're used to seeing around him. Only bashful timidness and alert, doe-like eyes that follow every single movement that you make inside your dark bedroom.

His breath hitches when you tug his pants down and rest your hand over the bulge that's set up a pretty decent tent inside his black boxer briefs. He winces when the tip of your finger hooks underneath the thick, burgundy waistband. Outright flinches when you pull it back lightly and make it snap against his stomach.

You're messing around. It makes his cock twitch with anticipation.

"Babe," he utters softly, pushing his hips upwards to get the message across. He doesn't say anything else.

"No teasing?"

"No."

You stifle your chuckle by pressing your lips upon his own again. He tries to pull you in for a deeper kiss, but you're already moving by spreading lovely affections over his sharp jawline and his neck, paying special care to his pulse point and sweet spot. His breathing quickens by the time you're kissing his collarbone; is turning shallow when you're paving a path of steady kisses down his chest.

By the time the tip of your nose is brushing against the soft, dark hair that covers his belly, his eyes shoot wide open like he's absolutely petrified for what's to happen next. His hand rests on your cheek with surprising harshness as he stops you from moving downwards any further; forcing you to look up at him by hooking two thick digits underneath your chin.

"Hmm?" The look you give him as your eyes connect with his own could best be described as puzzled. "Don't want me to go down on you?"

He's shaking his head quickly in answer, attempting to stop the irksome burning he feels on his entire face. "Not now."

Curiosity makes your voice lilt as you question, "Why?"

"I don't-..." He ponders for a moment, groaning quietly when you touch him again. You try not to smile at the small damp spot of pre-cum that soaks the front of his boxers now. His body is literally begging for you to sit on his dick already, but you need to listen to what he has to say first: "It'll be over much too fast if you do that. I, uh... I don't wanna cum too soon."

You quirk a brow at the worrisome expression he's portraying now, albeit respect his wishes as you climb back up to straddle him again. The grin you offer him now is bright and affable before your fingers curl around the hem of your t-shirt. You tug it over your head in one smooth motion, exposing the bare skin that's been hiding underneath. 

You're not wearing a bra. Kiba's pupils visibly dilate at the sight of your bare chest. He legitimately looks like he's taking pictures with eyes that might just pop out of their sockets any second now.

Unlike him, you're not shy or hesitant at all to show some skin. It only makes the red on his face grow more ferocious as you attempt to soothe him, "I don't care if you cum quick, Kiba. There's nothing wrong with that, and besides, maybe I'm just really good at sucking dick and it's not you that's the problem. Ever thought of that?"

A hint of that hot-headed Inuzuka stubbornness flashes through him as he bites out, "Well, I do care."

He tries not to think that you've done this sort of thing with other men before. Now is not the time to brood and feel jealous of ex-boyfriends from your past. The only thing that matters is the now, and that he's here to spend it with you. Not them.

You stare at him for a moment. Study his bashful, somewhat troubled expression before giggling at the tight furrow of his brow. He's clearly irked. "Okay. Whatever you say."

Kiba sighs at your compliance, his jaw slackening into something a bit more relaxed. "Thanks."

"Anytime, grumpy."

"Hah! Funny."

You flash him another comforting smile. "Your turn now."

"Hmm? O-Oh-...!" Kiba winces again when your fingers tug on the waistband for a second time without any warning. You wait a short moment before you start to tug it down; start to ogle. He doesn't stop you. Just watches with eyes that blink far too much every couple of seconds.

"Stop staring," he mumbles unsurely as you're halfway done exposing him to your wondering gaze at long last.

"I'm not staring," you reply, eyeing every inch to come into view, "just looking."

He grumbles, his shoulders tense and hard. Even his neck feels stiff as he watches your hands do the work of undressing him completely. "Are too."

"Hush."

Kiba can hear the small, albeit sharp inhale you suck into your aching lungs when his cock finally pushes free from the last tight layer of clothing that now joins the rest of your clothes. It slaps against his stomach; hard, hot, throbbing and ready. You're outright gawking at him now, disrespectfully leering at the protruding vein and his sheer size.

He's big and girthy. Thick. As soon as he learns how to use all of that properly, he'll be able to destroy you with a cock like that. Will be able to make you cry and beg as your insides get pounded and literally turned over everytime he'll slam into you. You just know that everything is going to hurt in the best way possible when you teach him how your body works and what it likes.

"What are you thin-thinking about...?" He stumbles on his words when your fingers wrap around his dick carefully. Your hand looks dainty in the most ludicrous way as you give him a light squeeze and stroke. It's almost funny.

Kiba's teeth feel on edge as the pleasure hits him like a truck speeding down the highway would have done. The way you're palming him feels different than when he does it alone. It's a lot to take in. Everything is more sensitive. Better. It makes pure heat buzz over his skin and his anxiety-dripping nerves.

You give him another stroke as you say, "You want the truth?"

He just nods in answer, because he can't say anything else. His bottom lip is nearly trembling from just a mere handjob. He can't stay still. Can't focus. It feels like his brain is melting inside his very skull and evaporating into thin air. He's practically brain-dead.

He can barely keep his eyes open, goddammit.

"The truth is that I want to sit on it," you mumble, pumping slowly, "like, right now. Sorry if that doesn't sound all that romantic. I'm trying my best."

Kiba wants this so bad that he doesn't give a shit about fucking romance. His body is yearning for sex, and is begging him to persuade you into letting him feel the slick warmth he's always been curious about. To experience it wrap around his most tender part, so that you're able to spoil it with love. 

He wants to see how your cute pussy looks like. Yes, you've sent him pictures. Many. And he knows that he hasn't been fair in not sending any back, but he's always been far too deep in his head about his appearance and where your opinion on it stands to be able to tap that dreadful 'Send' button.

So, he hopes he can make up for it with this. In granting you your wish that you unknowingly share with him. He's far too dazed to receive much foreplay and far too clumsy to give it because of said daze.

"Fuck, just do it." He bites his bottom lip, chewing on the tender flesh as he screws his eyes shut, "Just sit on my dick, al-already...!"

You want to laugh at how needy he sounds and looks, however you're smarter than that. Instead, you hide the smile that's pushing through as you turn away to grab the bottle of lube which you keep inside your nightstand drawer. Sure, you may be absolutely drenched just from his heavy breathing and the cute, little noises he's making, but no foreplay and his immense size don't sound like a great combo in that moment.

You'd prefer being able to sit down on a chair normally after this, after all.

Getting rid of your pyjama shorts and panties rather unceremoniously; you throw the last of your clothes on top of the pile that has messily gathered on the floor right next to your bed. Kiba curses quietly at the cool, slippery sensation the lube gives him as you pour it over his throbbing hardness; his eyes glued to your naked body the entire time.

You tease him now, "You're the one who's staring now."

"Sorry, you're just-... You're really pretty," he says softly, his fingers gently stroking your hip, "gorgeous."

It's your turn to blush now. His words are so sincere and fueled with emotion that your heart flutters in the same pace his own hammers when you raise your hips slightly and align yourself with him at long last. 

You can see a muscle in his cheek spasm when you lower yourself on the first inch. "Ah, babe...! Prote-"

"I'm on the pill, Kiba." You kiss the tip of his nose playfully, "Don't worry. You won't be fucking a baby into me anytime soon."

The words send a wildfire raging through his veins as he looks up at you with slightly parted, bruised lips. He's heaving now, grunting and cursing in the most hoarse voice you've ever heard him own. It's even deeper and raspier than the one he has on most mornings. 

"I'd-" He stops himself for a second when you slide further down his cock. His brain feels like it's short-circuiting as he grits out, "I'd like to, though... Someday."

"Yeah?" Your smirk is cunning as you grip his broad shoulders; nails sinking into smooth, sun-kissed skin, "You'd like to make me round with your kid?"

Shadows haunt his amber eyes. He looks more animal than human as you keep egging him on. "Fuck yes. Wanna fuck a kid into you, pretty... My kid. Wanna do it so bad."

You're suspecting that you might have a boyfriend with a breeding kink in the making on your hands, because now you can feel him shoving his hips up from the mattress lightly as he's trying to fill you up at a faster pace. The ache that appears as he spreads your tight, unstimulated walls apart is nearly making your eyes roll into the back of your head.

"Fuckin' hell," he spurts out as he pants, "so-... so tight."

"Does it feel good, baby?"

Your kisses are as distracting as your hands, which are currently busy roaming Kiba's heaving chest and neck. He can barely concentrate with every loving swipe and caress that you give to his body that's practically buzzing with electricity. The overstimulation is wonderful, but torturous at the same time.

"Yeah." His voice is fragile and shakes like rattling glass as he answers your question, finally. Kiba takes a sharp, shuddering breath whenever you ease yourself down onto him; every movement of your bare hips careful, but nevertheless carnal when they meet his own.

You can see his fingers curl around the crisp, white bed sheet now. He's gripping it so harshly that his knuckles are turning the exact same colour as the cotton, no matter how tan his golden skin is otherwise. He's clearly overwhelmed; lying on top of your bed like this, watching you make that first bounce on his cock for the first time ever.

Your smile is more of a feline-like sneer than anything else when you look down at your boyfriend's handsome face that's now red as a stop sign and coated in a layer of thick, hot sweat. The sugar to lace your tone is sweet and immensely soothing when you coo, "You wanna cum, Kiba?"

His dark irises are unable to stay fixed on you for longer than two seconds, at best. He's looking at everything and nothing in particular simultaneously, drawing a small, teasing chuckle out of you.

Shit. You're trying not to laugh; to keep it together for his sake, but his pupils are blown wide and are in the size of dinner plates that you keep inside your kitchen cabinet. He looks like he's just seen God. Isn't far from joining him up in the Heavens, either.

And for good reason, too. The surge of heat to wash over his entire body is making Kiba feel incredibly dizzy. Sex feels much warmer than what he'd imagined it'd be like. It's tighter. Slicker.

It's so much better.

"Ye-Yes... No. It's just-... I..." His pink upper lip visibly quivers when you roll your hips against him in response to his indecisiveness. He's trying his best to not squeeze his eyes shut from the sensation and to withhold the orgasm that's threatening to come much too soon for his liking. His heart is climbing up his throat when he grits out, "Fuck...! Christ almighty, babe... Please."

The second tinkling snigger to leave your mouth is as gentle as the sound of wind chimes being brushed by the faintest summer breeze. You just can't help yourself.

But you listen to his plea as you stop your lewd movements for a moment; easing yourself down on him completely and sighing at the pleasant feeling of fullness his cock gives you as it snuggles deep within your drenched warmth. He's so big that the stretch is slightly uncomfortable when you're sitting completely still, but it's nothing you can't endure. For now.

He's whimpering at the pleasure, brow furrowed so intensely that it makes you kiss the small 'v' in-between his dark eyebrows to try and smooth it down. What a joy it is to see him this helpless. Come to think of it, he's been arrogant and self-absorbed for far too long in your relationship. It's time that you wore the big boy pants.

"Not yet, okay?" Your murmur is muffled as you press a kiss onto his salt-coated forehead. His chestnut hair is ruffled and messy, and is literally damp from how much he's sweating. Poor man. "Try to keep it together for me, baby. Yeah?"

"Okay," is all he says, even though he's bucking his hips upward, trying to push even deeper inside of you on instinct, "fuckin' hell, okay, okay, okay...!"

So eager.

You ravage him slowly; thoroughly. He warns you whenever it feels too good so that you can slow down and wait until he calms down enough to continue. He's vocal and responsive and everything you've expected him to be. It is absolutely wonderful.

Kiba thinks you're a wonderful teacher. You whisper praises into his ear, kiss him a lot, and assure him that he's doing a splendid job. He lives for your compliments as you lead his touch over the curve of your hips and up to your ribcage; all until he reaches your tits, which are practically aching to experience his rough affection.

Your hands hover over his bigger ones as you coax him into fondling you. You apply pressure to his knuckles, making him squeeze your sensitive breasts. When the tips of his calloused fingers trace the peaked nipples, you let out a soft, shuddering gasp. 

Kiba is staring up at the face you're making in absolute awe. He isn't sure if it's the lube or your arousal that's beginning to drip between you, but he can't bring himself to care. It soaks the bed sheet; makes him stare. He can see the ring of milky, creamy slick gleaming on his cock whenever you move your hips up before slamming them right back down.

God, he feels like he's in heaven. Your pussy is practically eating him right up. He wants this to last forever.

Though, all good things must come to an end, sadly. Even this one. 

He can barely breathe when you quicken your pace and kiss him so hard that your teeth clash against his own. Kiba can feel the feeble, albeit gradual tightening of your walls as you moan into his mouth, cursing the most obscene things he's ever heard you say while your tongue dominates his own.

The movement of your hips and the lewd, squelching noises are making his entire body jolt and hum with lightning - right down to the hollow of his bones. His skin feels too tight to contain the sticky, hot pressure that's beggining to climb within his lower stomach. His cock is twitching as it hits a rather gushy, soft spot somewhere deep inside you.

You're doing it on purpose. You just feel so powerful; riding him like this.

"Oh, fuck. So good. It feels so fu-fucking good." He's squeezing his eyes shut before he forces them open again, pushing and writhing against you like a waking beast. He tries to burrow himself as deep as possible into your wonderfully addicting warmth. You can't even pull your hips up anymore, because he's slamming you right back down, forcing you to stay on his cock.

"Stay there," he tells you.

And you can't help but obey.

He doesn't realize how strong he actually is as he does it; especially when he's needy like this. Oh, he is going to fucking wreck you without even knowing it. You can already tell that your skin will bruise after you're done.

His arms wrap around you now, broad hand pulling the hair from your face so that he can see you better. He tugs on it right at the roots, making your eyes water. Sweat is dripping down his temple as he keeps staring up at you, his pupils overtaking most of his honey irises. 

"Cum for me, Kiba, c'mon... Fill me up. I wanna be full with it. Just your cum, baby." The entire room smells like sex and heat. You're on the verge of bursting and fading into true, utter bliss. You just need that tiny extra push from him. Just that sweet cherry on top. "Need you to do it for me, baby... So bad. Please."

His skin pulls taut at the words and indecent pleas. Kiba's hips follow instinct as they keep rutting - harsh and quick, fucking you in mind-blowing thrusts. You're both melting into each other, moaning into each other's mouths when he starts slamming home for the both of you; abusing that sweet spot within you as he kisses your cervix.

"Gonna-... Gonna cum, babe. Real soon."

"Mhmmm, that's it, baby. You're such a good boy. So good at fucking me."

The praise is his undoing, as well as the way how tightly your sweet pussy clenches around him. Just a few more jerky, mind-numbing thrusts, and Kiba is filling you up right to the brim with his warm, sticky seed; painting your walls completely white. 

Pop! - your lips part as his head tips back on the mattress from the buzzing euphoria to hit him in tremendous, ferocious heatwaves. He shoves his dick inside you as far as it'll go, cum still spurting out in gentle, toe-curling ropes deep within. 

He's busted a circuit inside that nervous brain of his. He doesn't know how to function anymore. It's the best damn orgasm he's ever had. It makes him feel all warm, tingly and numb. He's completely powerless as he rides the high.

You follow as soon as it happens, bliss contorting your features; making you cry out his name in a high-pitched whine that makes his ears hurt, but his heart race. His arms tighten around you as he keeps you down on his cock, keeping you steady even though he can barely do it himself. Your pussy is practically milking him dry. He feels like he's losing brain cells.

Every breath he takes is ragged. "Fuck, I love you so much."

"I love you too. So much, baby. God, I can't breathe."

It takes you minutes to calm down enough so that you can slide off of him. Your skin is hot and covered in sweat, but he doesn't mind it at all as you hook your leg over his middle and nuzzle your face into his chest. Your warm breath tickles his naked skin. It's pleasant.

The tips of his fingers stroke your bare spine. He can feel your mixed relief dripping and sticking to his thigh as it leaks out of your poor pussy when you curl yourself around him. It's messy and sticky, but he catches himself enjoying the fact that it's there. You've both made it happen.

Long moments pass before he breaks the silence with a whisper, "Was it good?"

"Oh, it was amazing," you sigh, nudging your cheek against his chest so that you can hear his rapid heartbeat better, "I can't wait to do it again. And again. And, you guessed it, again."

Kiba can barely contain the smile that's forcing itself onto his face.

He's never felt more confident.

[notsopersonalcharlie]

My Queen

Nikolai Lantsov x fem!Reader smut (established relationship)

Note: I make my return to write this thing that appeared in my head after reading all of the Shadow and Bone series and downing a bottle of peach wine while I finished the last one 

Warnings: penetrative sex, oral sex (fem receiving) , fingering, unprotected sex

~~~

Nikolai walked into his chambers and paused as the door swung shut behind him. You were laying on the floor, practically naked draped with a soft silk robe that left nothing to the imagination. 

“What are you doing?” His tone was playful, yet you shot him a look before closing your eyes again. 

“It’s warm down here. And it was cold underground with Sankta Alina.” The sarcasm dripping from your words was clear and Nikolai began to undo his coat. You had gone underground with the Grisha, being a fabrikator yourself it had been easy, but Nikolai had been adamant that you tell no one you were there to keep an eye out for him. 

“It is warm,” he muttered, “hot even.” He tossed his jacket on the bed and kicked off his shoes before laying down beside you. His fingers dragged along the exposed inside of your arm. The mountain hidey-hole was not a new place of his, and you’d been there before. It was always a welcome safety after traveling with him, knowing it was near impossible for anyone to find you. 

“I didn’t see you today,” he said, in an asking tone more than anything else. You turned, the cold air breezing across your warm back. 

“I have had enough of people for a while, especially the damned man and his cat.” Nikolai laughed, but his eyes were roaming down where the silk robe had slid away.  “What are you looking at, moi tsarevich.” 

“You.” He wasn't known for his short sentences, but you had prided yourself to getting him down to single words every once in a while, usually just a swear, “saints”, or a pleading utterance of your name. 

“Well, there is more to see,” you laughed, sitting up halfway and sliding the robe off your shoulders. You could see Nikolai taking in the sight of your bare back and turned, sliding a leg over his hips and resting on them. You had been thinking about him before he even came in. How it had been months since you’d last seen him and all you wanted was to be alone with him again. The light drag of his fingers across your skin nearly made you moan. 

“I missed you,” you both muttered at the same time, causing a laugh to slip by your lips. Nikolai just smiled, his hands roaming your bare skin. You hadn’t been left unmarked by the battle in the Little Palace. His fingers brushed lightly over the scar above your hip and the smattering of them where shards of glass had mauled your side. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said finally, “my princess.” 

“Is that all?” You joked, leaning down to kiss him. It started out soft, but turned feverish quickly. Nikolai’s arms wrapped around your lower back, forcing you to stay pressed against him, forcing you to kiss him hard. When he finally let go you were breathless. 

“I’ll be king in the morning, you’ll be my queen.” He said it with such vigor that you nearly forgot about Alina Starkov. 

“Well if I ruin your britches I don’t think that will be the case,” you said, the wetness between your legs had been hard to ignore when you saw him on the throne issuing orders before. Now it was obvious and Nikolai grinned the foxish grin he’d had since childhood. 

“Well there is something to be done about that tonight.” He was nimble, but careful, in turning you over so your body rested on the soft fur rug that covered the floor ahead of the bed. It was necessary given the warmth emanating from the stone floor, but you couldn’t complain as you watched Nikolai unbutton his shirt and toss it to join his jacket on the bed. His chest had its fair share of marks as well, much older than yours aside from a few angry bruises from the fight just days before that had resulted in your rescue. As he came back down to kiss you, you braced your heels on his shoulders. 

“You’re not going to get away with just that tonight, my prince,” you retorted, feeling his hands slide up the length of your leg to rest on your hips. 

“I am to be king, you’ll have to start playing by my rules, moi tsarina.” Yet he relented with no problems. His kisses trailed up the inside of your thigh, then down the other side and you whined at him. 

“Patience, my queen,” he said, before he shifted to press his mouth against your heat. He wasted no time, hooking your knees over his shoulders, his tongue moved furiously against your clit before sliding down and pressing into you. 

“Nik,” you moaned, which pressed his fervor. 

“As you wish, my queen,” he responded. Your eyes met his as two fingers pressed into you, his chin glistening. 

“Saints, Nik, I’ve missed you.” His mouth returned, the suction and movement of his tongue along with his fingers pumping in and out bringing you close enough to start rattling off his name in waves. 

“Stop, stop, please, Nik.” You released your near death-grip of his head between his knees and pulled him up lightly by the blond hair. He could use a haircut you noticed, and added it to an ever growing list of things in your mind. 

“I need this to be together,” you said, locking eyes with him. He nodded, but before he could pull away, you kissed him, holding onto him as tightly as you could. You hadn’t been sure he was alive just days ago. You could feel his hands wrestling with the pants until he finally got them down below his knees. You helped him untangle his ankles before he had you pressed back to the warm floor, the heat almost too hot in addition to flush of your skin. 

“I love you,” he muttered, before lining himself up to you and pressing in slowly. His moan was practically music to your ears. 

“I love you, moi tsar.” His lips captured yours as he began slowly moving, building up speed. You were barely holding onto the building fire inside you, and the feeling of him on you, in you, all around you was nearly too much. 

“Saints, I’ve missed you,” he breathed, one elbow resting beside your head the other arm reaching down to deftly work your clit. You came almost instantly, head tilted back and a moan loud enough to be heard at least down the hall erupting from your mouth. Nikolai had bit down on your shoulder as he came, surely leaving a clear marking of his teeth. 

“I love you, my queen,” he whispered against your neck as he pulled away, laying next to you. You both breathed heavily, staring at the rock ceiling.

“I better be your queen, Nikolai Lantsov,” you responded, reminded of Alina again. 

“Now is that any way to talk to your king.” 

[falcqns]

Hi, first of all i love your work 💕 and second, I wanted to request a Chris Evans angsty to fluff one shot? Where he is much older than the reader (she’s in her early 20s) and they have confessed their attraction for each other but are not sure how to proceed, nothing much happens during the confession. But the next day there’s an event or party where both attend separately, during it they stare at each other from across the room but suddenly Chris is crowded mostly by women much older than you and they flirt with him, and he sees you getting sad and insecure about your feelings and about his feelings too and obviously your age, so maybe you run off somewhere else and he decides to follow and then reassures you he likes you, then it’s all fluff? Maybe with a kiss at the end?🥺 thank uuuu!! I hope you’re having a nice day💓

Age Gap

pairing: chris evans x younger!reader

warnings: age gap, fluff, angst, insinuations to smut, hannah montana reference lmao

a/n: thank you for the request and i hope you enjoy! also i wrote this on my phone so i apologize for any mistakes lol

being 21 and having a crush on a 39 year old was tough.

finding out that that 39 year old felt the same was even tougher.

when you got the chance to audition with him for his new movie, Deep Silence, you jumped at it. just getting to be in a room with him blew your mind, but when your agent called you and told you you got a role, you were ecstatic.

you had originally auditioned for the role of Emma Garner, Chris’s characters daughter, but he decided you were perfect for the role of his characters wife, Francesca Garner instead.

you had no idea why. you were barely 21, and he was 19 years older than you. it would make so much more sense for you to play his daughter, but you accepted the role of his wife nonetheless.

at least now you won’t have to watch your crush kiss another girl, something that was all too familiar in high school.

when you two had your first love scene, you were terrified. how were you going to keep the fact that you were incredibly attracted to your co star a secret while acting out something that is so private?

you had a suspicion that he felt the same during filming, when he’d purposely ground his hard on into your centre and rasped into you ear “if you liked that”, but he ran away to his trailer before you could ask him about it.

you thought he was finally going to talk to you about it when he approached you a few days later, but he ended up just asking if you wanted to go to disneyland with him and Scott and his boyfriend, to which you accepted.

the day was fun, with the four of you taking lots of photos, going on lists of rides, eating lots of food (that ultimately made Scott throw up after one two many churros and and a ride on Seven Dwarves) and ended in you guys watching Happily Ever After. About halfway through, Chris pulled you into his arms, and pressed his lips to yours.

as soon as he kissed you, all the background noise faded away, and the two of you stood there like teenagers making out for the rest of the show.

when that happened, you thought for sure that he’d finally ask you out. you’d ask him out, but that seemed insanely intimidating, and you weren’t down for that at all. but, he didn’t make a move. other than kissing. he’d kiss you constantly, but it never progressed passed making out, and you were a little disappointed.

eventually, comic con came up, and you wouldn’t be attending with Chris, rather than the TV show you were a regular on. you had spotted him watching you in the crowd, thanks to your favourite actress who was also on the panel with you. you attended his as well, and even asked a question, as your movie hadn’t been announced yet, so people wouldn’t know you unless they watched your show.

then, the after party rolled around. you had messaged briefly, but hadn’t really spoken, something you were hoping to do tonight. you had reached your wits end, and just decided to man up and talk to him about where you two stood.

but, you couldn’t find him. you’d wandered around with your co stars and talked to a few directors and casting agents to get your name out there for future projects, but you couldn’t for the life of you locate Chris.

Until you got to the bar. you had just ordered your favourite drink, when you spotted him at the other end of the bar. but, he wasn’t alone. he was surrounded by five or six women who were definitely much older than you, and your heart sank.

it didn’t shatter, however, until you saw Chris flirting back. your eyes welled up with tears, and you tried to wipe them discreetly without Chris or anyone noticing, but of course that didn’t happen.

Chris was doing his best to ward off the ladies swarming him, so he could come and find you. he had been leading you on for too long, and he just needed to ask you out already, before another guy snatched you from his fingers.

suddenly, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and looked up, thinking it was Scott coming back with more food, but his heart dropped when he saw you. you were stood there, looking absolutely magnificent, but your eyes were full with tears, almost to the point of spilling over onto the cheeks he loved to kiss and hold in his hands so much.

he looked at the swarm of ladies that had formed around him, and swore, realizing what you were probably thinking.

he watched as you turned and stormed away, towards the door. he politely excused himself, and headed after you.

he followed you out the door he watched you disappear through, but his heart sank even lower when he realized you weren’t there. he was about to go back inside and ask your co stars for your room number, when he heard the tell tale signs of your sobs coming from a hidden alcove to his left.

he ran down the steps and over to the alcove, and his heart broke when he saw you. you were leaning against the wall, you head in your hands. loud sobs were escaping your mouth, and he knew for a fact you had an endless amount of tears running down your face, the saltiness of them probably already swelling your beautiful face up.

he wasted no time in coming over to you and wrapping you up tight in his arms. you tried to pull out of them, but he stood firm, and eventually you relaxed.

“i’m so sorry.” he whispered, and your sobs subsided. you shook your head and looked up at him.

“no. i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i was born in the wrong generation, because maybe then one of us would have the courage to ask the other out without fear of judgement. i’m sorry that i’m not as mature as those girls, or as talented. i’m sorry that i probably read into things like i always do and ruine-“ you began; but was cut off by Chris soft lips.

when he pulled away, he rested his forehead atop yours. “no. don’t. you’re perfect. so fuckin’ perfect it scares me sometimes. it absolutely terrifies the shit out of me how perfect you are because i don’t want to hurt you. you’re so young and innocent, and i love that about you. i don’t want to be the one to crush that innocence that i love so much by hurting you. but, i shouldn’t have let that hold me back. we’re both legal, so age is just a number. i should have told you that say i fuckin’ dry humped you on set.” he said, and you laughed at the last bit. “i love you so fuckin’ much, y/n, it honestly scares me. but being scared is good. it makes me human, and i’m not letting that hold me back from treating you the way you deserve to be treated. if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, i will spend the rest of our time together showing you just how much i love and appreciate you.” he said, and you looked up at him. “will you be my girlfriend?” he asked softly, and you nodded in happiness, your lips pressing to his.

Chris smiled into the slightly salty, but still loving kiss. he finally had you, and he wasn’t going to let you go. you were his whole world, and he was kicking himself for not realizing it sooner.

the two of you were currently walking hand in hand back to the venue, when you spoke up. “that was the sweetest speech. i’m not mad at you because of those girls. i realized shortly after that you wouldn’t do anything like that, but i thought maybe you’d realize that they were better than me, so that’s why i left.” you explained, and Chris tugged you in closer to his body.

“that makes me so happy, sweet girl. it was a mistake letting those girls do that and i should have stopped it sooner, but everybody makes mistakes.” he said.

you giggled before responding. “everybody has those days.” you said with the straightest face possible and Chris turned and stared at you for a second before realizing the reference.

“Hannah Montana? oh my god you’re so innocent,” he said, moaning the last few words into your ears, his hands gripping your waist to pull you against him.

you bit your lip and smiled. “i’m not completely innocent,” you said right back, and smiled in happiness when you felt him hardening against your stomach.

“mmm, really baby?” he moaned, and you nodded, before whispering in his ear.

“take me back to your hotel room and i’ll show you.”

[sezja]

25 for the hurt/comfort prompts?

Hurt/comfort dialogue prompts

25: “don't worry, i'll be here when you wake up.”

Eighth Umbral Calamity AU

Some luck hunting today, finally. Only a dodo, small and just as starving as Guydelot himself is, but there's meat on its unfortunate bones, which is more than enough. He hides it as best he can, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be following - wouldn't be the first time someone set out food in hopes of hunting a hunter. Just the past moon, a pair of desperate vagrants had lured Guydelot in with a wounded aldgoat, and when he'd gone to collect the kill, they'd fallen on him from behind, aiming to knock him senseless and... well. Just as well he hadn't found out what they'd had in mind; Sanson had come to his rescue, spear in hand.

But the fields are empty, with few places for strangers to hide. Only the sad remnants of dodo nests linger among the ruins of what was once a farmstead in the heart of La Noscea, crumbling in the salty air. The bones of Limsa Lominsa loom in the distance, a hellish warren Guydelot has no desire to test a second time - the natives wasted little time after the Calamity in returning to their piratical ways, and then some. Despair and desperation made men dangerous, and the island nation of Vylbrand, already isolated and undersupplied, is perhaps the most dangerous place Guydelot and Sanson have ventured.

And after all the effort taken to get here, to find it all a waste, with no ships carrying passengers at all, let alone to Othard-

Guydelot chokes down the hopelessness that threatens to drown him. There's food, after all - they'll eat tonight, at any rate, and that's more than he can say for the past two nights. And none of the pirates picking at the ruins of Limsa Lominsa seem keen on leaving her; they're safe. Safe as can be, anyhow.

He finds their campsite, nestled beneath a hollow hill. He hadn't liked it; too easy by far to trap them here, to ambush them, but Sanson took heart from the invocation to the Navigator inscribed within. And hells, anything that puts a little spark back in Sanson these days...

Sanson sits by the fire, gazing listlessly into its depths, much as Guydelot left him several bells ago. He doesn't look up at the bard's approach, which is as much an indication of the man's state of mind as anything - dangerous as this entire expedition has been, Sanson ought to be wary of any approaching footsteps, lance at hand... but his weapon isn't even within reach, propped against the far wall of the cavern. What good it's meant to do there, Guydelot doesn't try to guess. It's as though Sanson's inviting death.

Don't you dare, Chief, he thinks, studying the man from the entrance. Don't you dare leave me to face all this alone. It's agony even to recall the start of this mess, when he'd thought for sure-

Don't think about it.

Guydelot exhales slowly, dragging himself back to the present.

"We'll eat tonight, at least," he announces, forcing cheer, as he drops himself to a set next to Sanson.

At the sound of his voice, Sanson rouses at last, turning weary eyes in his direction. He even manages a smile, small and sad though it is. "Guydelot."

Guydelot begins plucking the dodo, saving what feathers he can - he's running low on arrows, having put too many of them into brigands and bandits and other sorry bastards on their way across Eorzea. If nothing else, he can spend their days in La Noscea gathering what he can to replenish that supply before they... do whatever it is they'll do from here. Sail back to the mainland, he supposes, assuming their boat's not been stolen from the quay. And from there... hells.

"Allow me," Sanson says, and Guydelot blinks, surprised to realize he's paused in mid-pluck, distracted by his own wandering thoughts. "You caught it," Sanson continues, gently collecting the bird from the bard's hands. "I can prepare it. It will give me something to do, at any rate."

Guydelot surrenders the task - glad to see Sanson doing something, if nothing else; for much of the days since they'd tried and failed to enter Limsa Lominsa, he's been lifeless and aimless. He looks exhausted, like an extinguished candle, but if he sleeps, Guydelot's not seen it: every time he wakes, he finds Sanson sitting up, gazing into the distance, silent and lost. This is not the world Sanson hoped to create, Guydelot knows, nor a world he understands; that world died with the Order of the Twin Adder.

With Gridania.

With...

With the Warrior of Light.

It helps to think of her that way, the Warrior of Light. He'd never really come to think of her as such when she was alive and well - she'd always just been Eve, ever since the beginning. It'd always been hard for Guydelot to reconcile his warm, playful friend with the indomitable heroine the stories made her out to be. She was a skilled fighter, sure - a skilled bard, when she took up that mantle - but Eve'd never been a larger-than-life figure, not one to get up her own arse about her heroics.

Somehow, though, it'd never occurred to him that she could be killed. And by something as unassuming as gas! Hells, she deserved better.

Once more, he wrenches himself out of the past - can't do a bloody thing about it, can't do anything for Eve now - and focuses instead on Sanson; Sanson, who took Eve's death far harder than he had. Sanson, who'd lost his entire family, his entire unit - present company excluded... Sanson, who'd lost his entire godsdamned life.

For Guydelot, the worst blow had fallen when he'd learned of Jehantel's death, and had presumed Sanson lost to him, as well. That black pit of agony he knows all too well; those hours spent trudging back to what remained of Gridania believing all he loved in the world was gone-

"I love you, you know," he says, abruptly, as Sanson's putting the dodo on the fire. He doesn't say, I need you to live; he doesn't say, I've lost you twice, and I can't do it again. But they ring in his mind, aching and echoing.

Sanson blinks twice, hard, and shakes his head. "Guydelot, I..."

"I do, I love you," he repeats, stubborn. "Whatever happens. Whatever doesn't happen. Hells, we've got each other, right? Ain't that enough?"

To his surprise, Sanson sits back from the fire, blinking back what are unmistakably tears. "I don't... I don't know what to do from here," he says, misery making his voice ragged. "What to do, where to go... Othard was the only hope we-"

"We'll just have to go... back," Guydelot says, catching himself before he says home. Home is a place that doesn't exist anymore. Home is the man beside him. "We'll try Ishgard, mayhap all that snow helped 'em. Head to the Churning Mists, maybe? See if Mogta's folk survived all this, up in the clouds."

"We would need an airship," Sanson says dully, leaning against Guydelot's shoulder. "None of them have flown since..."

"We made it on foot once." Guydelot wraps an arm around Sanson's shoulders, holding him close. The roasting dodo smells heavenly - gods, but it'll be good to sleep with something on his stomach for once. That's enough to lift his spirits; enough to give him strength to cheer up his despondent companion. "Just a little mountain climbing, that's all. We know the way, eh? We could do it again."

Sanson's quiet. Then, "I would like to see it again."

"Then we will." He kisses the top of Sanson's head. "We'll head back to the boat in the morning, and we'll head for Coerthas." He doesn't say that this will require passing once more through the Twelveswood... or what was once the Twelveswood. "And we'll do it on a full stomach, to boot."

"I can barely keep my eyes open," Sanson admits, weary - weeping has taken a great deal out of him, Guydelot can hear it. "If... if you don't mind watching the fire-"

Guydelot nods, meaning to release him so the man can retreat to his bedroll for a bell or two, but instead, Sanson nestles more comfortably against his shoulder. "Guydelot..."

"Don't worry," the bard says, wrestling to keep his voice steady through the emotion that threatens to choke him. "I'll be right here when you wake up."

"I love you, too," Sanson says, drowsily, his eyes closing. "I didn't say it a moment ago..."

"Hush." As though they've ever needed the words. "Sleep. Tomorrow's a big day... and you'll want your rest."