#Ives Street Press

[capshino]

there was a suicide on campus on Monday and the Univeristy emails us like "remember to reach out to our mental health services we're here for you, here's the suicide hotline number" like clearly that shit is not working

[headphonemouse]

Pining hell

[ohproserpine]

iv. dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, jealousy, possessiveness, alastor does not know how to interpret love, or maybe he does, in his own twisted way, roadkill used as a symbolism, gorey descriptions of love, murder the song she sings is 'roxie' from chicago

˚୨୧₊♱

"Hey!" Charlie's voice rang out as she spotted Mimzy making her way towards the hotel entrance. The blonde froze, casting a nervous glance behind her to see the demon princess rapidly approaching with a worried look that she mistook for anger.

With practiced ease, the blonde put on a fake frown, pressing her hand over her chest. "Oh, Charlie! I'm so sorry for the trouble last night, sugar! I'll pay—"

"No, no! I'm not here for that," Charlie waved her hands with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the slump of relief on Mimzy's shoulders. "Are you leaving so soon? The hotel wouldn't mind taking you in!"

Caught off guard by Charlie's unexpected offer, Mimzy grimaced. She hesitated, opening her mouth before shutting it as she struggled to find the right words. "Oh! Well…you see…"

A laughing track, sounding like it was filtered through a radio, echoed through the air, and Mimzy turned to the source to find Alastor towering over her with his signature grin.

"I don't think redemption is quite her style," Alastor's chipper voice rang out. His clawed hand reached for Mimzy’s hair, plucking a feather from her headpiece. In his hands, the pink ornament erupted into flames. "Frankly, I have my doubts she could even be redeemed at all!"

Horrified, Mimzy watched as her feather fell to the floor in ashes, her hand instinctively reaching for the charred remnants.

"Alastor," Charlie glared at him before turning her attention back to Mimzy. "We believe in redemption for everyone. It's not about what you were; it's about what you choose to be now. We'll be here to support you every step of the way."

"Thanks, sugar," Mimzy forced a smile, waving her hand around daintily. She glanced at the entrance with a subtle wish for escape, playing up the nice act while Alastor continued to watch the scene unfold with a cryptic smile. "But radio here is right. I don't really think it's my style. Different strokes for different folks. Plus, I've got a business to run!"

Alastor hummed, twirling his microphone cane around in his hand. The crimson glow of his eyes narrowed at her as he chuckled. "You couldn't possibly mean that wooden box of debauchery you call a club, right?"

"My 'wooden box of debauchery' has more character than any joint in that city," Mimzy grit her teeth together in a smile, barely concealing her frustration.

As another argument began to form, a throat clearing interrupted the flow, capturing Mimzy's attention. A pink glove slowly rose from the couch and Angel Dust pushed himself off the furniture, sitting up with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"If I may~" Angel Dust chimed in. "You saying you, ah, got a bar? I'm always up for checking out new places. Mind if I swing by sometime, tits?"

Mimzy beamed and sent Alastor a smug look, making her way toward Angel Dust. She reached into her chest, pulling out a card with a flourish. "Of course, kitten! Here's all our information. You'll find us in the Vee district. Feel free to swing by anytime. And don't forget to bring a friend!"

Angel Dust took the offered card, a grin forming on his face. "Bring a friend, huh? You got it, toots."

˚୨୧₊♱

The Vee district, designated as the entertainment hub of Pride, was dazzled with bright neon lights and tall towering buildings adorned with blazing billboards. The streets pulsed with life, where every ten steps brought you face-to-face with street performers desperately vying for attention, hoping to catch the eyes of industry scouts. The message was clear – fame was the ticket to success. Performers were everywhere, found in rundown bars, neon nightclubs, and costly theaters catering to the insatiable appetites of the elite.

Mimzy's Lounge, nestled down east on one of the city's worse-off streets was no fancy stage. The building, weathered and worn, seemed to barely hold itself together. The exterior bore the scars of years gone by, with cracked windows, peeling paint, and near-rotting wooden walls. While it may not have been on the standards of the elite, to the poor and downtrodden, it was the best piece of entertainment they could afford.

Inside, the dim lighting of the bar did little to conceal the stains and cracks that adorned the floor and ceiling. Tables and chairs, mismatched, were arranged haphazardly. The air hung heavy with the smell of cheap perfume, wrapping around the audience—a motley crew of lost souls. On the stage, a couple of scantily clad showgirls were performing a dance routine, or at least their movements vaguely resembled one. The quality of the performance didn't seem to matter to the audience, who, hungry for any form of entertainment, welcomed the spectacle with open arms.

Seated discreetly in the back booths, Angel and Cherri had drawn their curtains tight, creating a cocoon of privacy amid the bustling buzz and thumping music in the club.

"…And check this out – Alastor is hitched," Angel Dust spat out the last word as if it were poison. His face caught the warm, bright lights spilling into their booth, slipping through the small gap in the middle of the curtains. He sipped from his drink, a glint in his eyes. "And the owner here's got some serious dirt on his missus or somethin' like that."

"That why you dragged me to this hellhole? Knew it," Cherri snorted, taking a sip of her cocktail, the sweet and tangy flavors doing little to mask the less-than-pleasant ambiance. "Couldn't believe you'd even want to step into a place like this."

"You know I can't resist a bit of gossip, and where else can you find more gossip than in a joint run by a gal who's got the goods on Alastor himself?" Angel grinned, his golden tooth flashing as he reclined in his torn red chair. "Hell. I bet anyone else would do what I'm doin'. I mean, who wouldn't be tearin' these walls down just to catch a glimpse of the Radio Demon's wife?"

Cherri Bomb let out a throaty chuckle. "Well, you're bloody right there."

A sudden blast of music echoed through the air, prompting Angel Dust to scramble out of his seat and poke his head out from behind the curtain. The previous performers stepped off the stage, making way for the upcoming act. He caught sight of a familiar pudgy figure sauntering onto the stage and hastily turned his head back to the booth, meeting Cherri's amused face. "It's startin'!"

“Welcome, all you devils and darlings, to the Dollhouse Lounge!” Mimzy's voice boomed, and the lights gracefully dimmed to focus on her. The hum of conversation dwindled, the audience's attention now on the stage. “It's the moment you've all been waiting for! The last act of the night… Dolly, the living doll!"

With Mimzy's spirited introduction, the claps and cheers crackled in the air. In an instant, the lights plunged into darkness, leaving Angel to flit his gaze across the smoke-hazed stage, hungry for a glimpse of what was to come. Suddenly, a surge of stage lights sliced through the lingering smoke, akin to a celestial burst, revealing your silhouette with a large signage that spelled out your name in bold, red letters.

Wearing a lovely smile, you spread your arms wide, catching everyone's attention as you sang the first note, voice sultry and dripping sweet like honey. "The name on everybody's lips is gonna be Dolly."

"That's his wife?" Cherri gawked behind Angel, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "Are you sure we got the right girl?"

"Hell, I'm just as surprised as you are," Angel shot back, an equally dumfounded look on his face.

"The lady raking in the chips Is gonna be Dolly," your voice echoed, the melody carrying through the lounge as you strolled towards the stage's platform. The rhythmic beat of the music vibrated against the soles of your heels while the spotlight dutifully trailed after you, its gentle glow caressing the curves of your glittery dress, casting glimmers of silver and gold that danced across the dimly lit bar.

"I'm gonna be a celebrity. That means somebody everyone knows," you continued, sauntering around the stage. As you swirled and twirled, your silhouette became a blur of sequins and shimmer. The spotlight then intensified its focus on you, highlighting the glint in your eyes. "They're gonna recognize my eyes. My hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose."

"Fuck," Angel muttered under his breath. As you moved closer to the end of the platform, he could finally get a good look at you.

Shimmery blue eyeshadow graced your lids, while a dark blush adorned the apples of your cheeks, complementing the red lipstick you had on. Your dress, a dazzling ensemble of sequins, was not only radiant but also provocatively low-cut, teasingly revealing a glimpse of your chest before gracefully dropping to your knees. Dark silk stockings, sensually tracing the contours of your legs, were held by garters. At your feet, bedazzled red Mary Janes sparkled like jewels, catching the light with every step you took.

As Angel thought back to his conversation with Mimzy, he found himself agreeing with her earlier comments. You really were a living, breathing doll.

"From just some dumb canni-bal’s wife. I'm gonna be Dolly," you continued, seamlessly weaving your magic, each lyric a spell that bound the audience. "Who says that murder's not an art?"

With a spin, you twirled around the stage, a ditzy grin on your face, the sequins on your gown catching the light like stars. "And who, in case she doesn't hang, can say she started with a bang! Dolly Heart!"

As the final notes of the song echoed through the venue, the room erupted in applause and cheers. But, the curtain wasn't falling yet. Standing backstage, Mimzy let the moment linger, reveling in the prolonged applause. After all, happy customers always tipped generously.

On cue, bills and coins descended like a storm, hitting the floor with a crisp sound that mixed beautifully with the cheers of the delighted audience. There was so much that the shower of currency formed a makeshift carpet beneath your feet.

Angel Dust, still peeking from behind the curtain, wore a smirk of approval. "Not bad, not bad at all," he whispered to Cherri, who nodded in agreement.

Standing on the stage, bathed in the lingering glow of the spotlight, you held your pose, chest heaving up and down. A demure smile graced your lips as soft, appreciative nods and fluttering eyelashes accompanied each gaze you cast toward the audience. Tonight's turnout was impressive, though not unexpected given your agreement to perform one of your most famous songs after a prolonged hiatus.

"Dolly" was a beloved crowd-pleaser and the one song you hated with a passion.

The spotlight continued to shine relentlessly in your eyes, causing a painful burn in your irises. The deafening applause felt like a relentless assault on your senses as each clap echoed loudly in your ears. From the speakers, the music blasted in waves, the volume rattling your bones. Showbusiness, a constant companion in both your living and afterlife, had become an achingly familiar yet tormenting cycle.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Mimzy step up onto the stage to address the crowd. "Thank you, my lovely devils and darlings! Wasn't Dolly simply darling tonight?" she squealed through the mic.

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause once more, the energy in the room reaching a fever pitch. Mimzy basked in the adoration, her grin widening as she soaked in the success and the money. Oh, the money.

"I know you loved that!" she laughed. She leaned into the microphone, her voice turning into a whisper "Of course, you all do. I wrote it."

"Now, let's give our star her rest. Dolly, my dear, take a bow!" Mimzy's voice rang out, signaling the end of the performance. Relieved, you bowed before making your way towards the curtains as the heavy fabrics began to descend. After blowing a few more kisses to the audience, you slipped backstage, letting the smile fade from your face. As you vanished from view behind the curtain, Angel caught the look on your face.

It was a look he knew all too well.

"She looks perfectly happy without him," Cherri remarked with a casual shrug. "I mean, look at 'er. She's the star of the show. You think she left on purpose?"

Angel furrowed his brows, deep in thought. It didn't make no sense to him.

Why would you willingly perform under Mimzy's control when Alastor, with his power, could easily get you out of here? Contract or no contract, that radio freak could tear Mimzy apart like a hot knife through butter.

The spider's attention shifted towards the audience, and his gaze locked onto Mimzy, who was engrossed in conversation with some VIPs. The sight of her triggered a scowl to etch itself onto his features.

"I don't think so. There's more to it," Angel's eyes narrowed, the wheels in his head turning, "I've seen that look before."

"What look?" Cherri raised an eyebrow.

"That trapped look," Angel said, his gaze following Mimzy as she continued her animated conversation, oblivious to the scrutiny. "Before the curtains dropped, I saw it on her."

"Shit, Angie," Cherri's gaze followed Angel's, and she pursed her lips. "You think she's playing the part or really stuck?"

Angel Dust stood up straight, now opening the curtains wide as his eyes never left Mimzy. "I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."

Both of them took their time, patiently waiting until Mimzy stepped away. Once the blonde demon finally made her way backstage, they discreetly followed her lead, slipping behind the curtains with her.

The busy backstage corridor welcomed them with an assortment of items – costumes, props, and stage decor – scattered in chaotic disarray. Angel's eyes wandered around, and he spotted Mimzy in a far corner, sitting atop worn cardboard boxes. Nudging Cherri, he gestured for both of them to move closer.

"Hey~ How's it going, blondie?" Angel purred, leaning against a nearby prop, his tone dripping with a sickly sweet tone. Mimzy looked up, confused before she recognized him and flashed a wide grin.

"Hey, you! You're that spider fella from the hotel!" She tapped her chin in thought narrowing her eyes at him. "Uhm, Angle Dust was it?"

"It's Angel Dust," he corrected, a twitch of annoyance in his eye.

"Uh-hah, that's nice," Mimzy seemed unfazed, continuing to count her money, her legs swinging back and forth absentmindedly. "You like the show? Oh, who am I kidding, of course, you did!"

Angel Dust crossed his arms with a chuckle. "Yeah, about that. That girl, Dolly. She's quite a number, ain't she?"

"Oh, yeah. She's my little masterpiece," Mimzy smirked. "Met her before she had any of this."

"Let's cut the fuckin' crap," Cherri rolled her eyes, tired of dancing around the conversation. The cyclops leaned down to Mimzy's height, scowling into her face and driving her finger into the blonde's chest. "I'll say it straight. What's the deal with her? You got some strings attached?"

Mimzy paused and glanced up at Cherri with an arched eyebrow before turning to Angel and laughing tensely. "Your friend here sure is forward, Ankle! Oh, sweethearts, Dolly's here because she wants to be."

Angel Dust shot Cherri a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. "Yeah?"

"The girl signed a contract willingly," Mimzy explained with a casual shrug. "She gets what she wants, and I get what I want. It's a fair exchange."

Angel's eyes narrowed, his skepticism evident. "Contract? What's in it for her, then? Why willingly perform in this dump when she could easily be the star anywhere else?"

The blonde sent Angel a glare for his dig at her lounge but still answered him. "Dolly owes me something. A little debt she's paying off with her charming performances. A contract might sound sinister, but it's just showbusiness, furs." Mimzy leaned back, folding her arms, her expression daring the two of them challenge her further.

"Bull. She sold you her soul to dance and sing?" Cherri scoffed, taking the challenge.

"No, no, there was no soul exchange involved," Mimzy rolled her eyes. "Just a contract. But still binding, magical, and all of that stuff."

"Now, can you two get out of my hair?" Mimzy huffed, shooing them away with a dismissive wave. "I've got a lot of things to run here!" She returned to counting her money, clearly eager to be rid of the unwanted attention.

"Let's go, Cherri," Angel said with a look of defeat, pushing himself off the prop he had been leaning on.

Once the two of them finally stepped out of the establishment, the spider groaned to himself, now finding himself with more questions than answers.

˚୨୧₊♱

You strolled behind the weighty curtains, the backstage area buzzing with the rush of staff, the shouts of managers, and the lingering presence of performers idly awaiting their cues. Navigating through the organized chaos, you directed your steps towards your private dressing room—a sanctuary away from the glaring spotlight.

You threw the door open, entering quickly and slamming it shut behind you, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the clamor and racket outside. Flicking a light switch, the dim glow of a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling revealed the room's worn-out glamour. A vanity cluttered with makeup, costumes haphazardly thrown on a worn-out sofa, and a cracked mirror that had seen better days—all were familiar sights.

"I would kill for a glass of whiskey," you murmured to yourself, the weariness of the performance settling in. Rolling your head and groaning as you heard a satisfying crack, you added, "or maybe a whole bottle of it."

Kicking off your heels, you let the cool floor cradle your skin, leaving the discarded shoes in a dusty corner to rest. Seated at the vanity, the chaotic world beyond the backstage curtains ceased to exist. The gentle glow of the vanity lights exposed the weariness in your eyes as you wiped away your mascara and dusted off the remnants of glitter from your skin. While removing your earrings, the shimmer of your wedding ring caught your eye.

A frown tugged at your lips, the subtle ache of longing surfacing.

You missed your husband.

With a sigh, you continued removing your earrings before tossing them onto your vanity. Seeking to ease the edge, you reached for a whiskey bottle on a nearby dresser, grabbing a glass and pouring yourself a drink. The golden liquid glimmered in the subdued light as you took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol coursing through you.

"C̵h̶e̸r̷?̷"̸

A static rumble of a radio, like thunder, jolted you mid-drink, causing the liquid to catch in your throat. Coughing and sputtering for a while, you scrambled to collect yourself before turning behind you. Your gaze landed on the desk table where your radio sat. The crackling static continued, accompanied by a familiar voice and distorted sounds.

Alastor.

Grabbing a cloth to wipe yourself, you rushed to the desk and grabbed the old radio in your hands. The radio was a faded, worn red with yellowed dials, and its antennas were visibly broken, held up together with scraps of tape. Your contract with Mimzy did not allow you to meet with Alastor or his shadows for as long as you were under her, but that didn't mean you couldn't communicate with Alastor in other ways.

With trembling hands, you carefully adjusted the dials, aligning them to the familiar frequency that bridged the gap between you two. Your heart thrummed in your chest, head almost dizzy from anticipation. The distorted voices began to clear, and Alastor's distinctive voice cut through the static, a lifeline in the abyss.

"Cher, my dear, are you there?" Back in his room at the hotel, Alastor spoke through his mic, awaiting your response. He was sitting by the large windows, bathed in the dim glow of the Ring of Pride's lights. The hues painted a lovely ambiance against his skin, highlighting the contours of his sharp features as he reclined against a plush couch.

Heavy silence lingered for a while as you felt your throat closing up. Without realizing it, you began crying, your sobs echoing through Alastor's microphone.

"Yes, Al," you choked out between sobs, your hands gripping the surface of the radio tightly, nails scratching against the peeling paint. "I'm here. I missed you."

Alastor listened to your tearful voice through the crackling static, his shoulders tense as his claws clenched against his microphone handle. Your vulnerable confession hung heavily in the air, and he felt a storm stirring within him. Unsure of what to do with these emotions, he could only sit there and listen to you weep.

From the busiest street in Pentagram City to the darkest alleyways, Alastor's reputation as a bloodthirsty killer was infamous, and he reveled in it. The idea that an overlord like him could entertain genuine care for someone sounded preposterous. Throughout his human days and beyond, Alastor never felt such sentiments.

Decades ago, he only needed himself. However, ever since you entered his life, he became a man possessed.

The moment he first laid eyes on you, you were a vision of beauty with bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and he couldn't deny that he felt an inkling of fondness for you right from the start. But that was all it ever was—nothing more, nothing less.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he couldn't help but notice that the glow in your smile was brighter, lovelier. And despite his usual tendency to dismiss such details, Alastor couldn't look away. Not anymore.

You held him captive, like a deer frozen in the blinding glare of oncoming headlights. He was aware the collision was imminent, yet it still caught him off guard; A torrent of emotions crashing into him like a speeding truck, leaving him with twisted limbs and cracking bones, antlers torn from his head, fur matted and bloodied, with his heart exposed, beating vulnerably before you.

In the months that followed, Alastor remembered how foreign the feeling to him was. He didn't want to understand it, refused to, but each attempt to rip those festering emotions out of his chest only left him bleeding.

Looking back, Alastor finds himself incapable of fathoming how life was bearable before you entered it. The mere thought of returning to a time when you weren't present is something he refuses to entertain. The person he used to be, before he stepped into that speakeasy, now feels like a distant stranger, a mere shadow of the man he has become with you in his life.

The static in his thoughts subsided, in tandem with your crying and sobbing dying down. A prolonged pause lingered before Alastor interrupted the silence. "Cher, you know I'd bring you out of that wretched place if you just said the word."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you wiped away tears with your trembling fingers. "You tell me that every time we have these calls. Do you not get tired of it?"

"Never," Alastor hummed. The sound of your laughter, even tinged with bitterness, momentarily lifted the heavy burden that his heart carried. "The offer will always be up, darling!"

"You know I can't, Al. Me and her have history together," your voice paused, cracking with emotion. "And I still feel guilty."

Alastor sighed heavily, frustration dancing in his eyes. He always struggled to understand why you felt indebted to Mimzy, why guilt still clung to your decisions like a persistent shadow.

To him, Mimzy deserved the consequences. Despite his constant offers to free you from her grasp, you remained steadfast in your decision to complete your contract

"Very well, dear," Alastor's smooth voice crackled through the radio, weaving a comforting presence into the air as you moved back toward your vanity, taking a seat. "Now, enough of these melancholic talks. Tell me, how was the show tonight?"

"Mimzy had me perform 'Dolly' again," you remarked, a crooked smile playing on your lips. "She's well aware that I despise that song. I mean, really? Have you ever taken a look at the lyrics? It's a bit on the nose, don't you think?"

As your frustrations spilled out, Alastor stood from his seat, staff in hand. Placing it beside his closet, he attentively listened to your words, occasionally responding with chuckles and interjections. He slipped off his monocle, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and then his vest, revealing a well-tailored red undershirt that clung to his lean frame.

"I find the cannibal's wife line rather charming," Alastor smirked, and though he couldn't see it, you rolled your eyes in response.

"Of course you'd enjoy that part," you scoffed, mirroring Alastor's movements on the other side. Shedding the bedazzled dress, you opted for more comfortable attire, draping yourself in a robe.

"What's not to like? It shows the audience that you're my darling wife," Alastor quipped with a smug tone.

"Bushwa. They don't even know it's you. And I don't think anyone thinks highly of some poor fool shackled to a gaudy singer," you snorted. With the radio in tow, you began to pack your belongings into your purse.

"Don't be ridiculous," Alastor's laugh rumbled against the speakers. "My dear, being 'shackled' to you is the most delightful form of imprisonment."

"Such a sap," you scoffed, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your face. Shouldering your purse, you made your way towards the door, ready to leave. However, a sudden memory of a conversation with Mimzy surfaced.

"By the way, did you know Mimzy was planning to have me perform on some talk show?" you shared with Alastor while locking the door to your dressing room. A furrow appeared on your brow as the backstage lights played with shadows, casting a pensive expression on your face. "What was it again… Oh! Yes! Box-2-Nite."

A sudden screech from the radio erupted, its harsh sound reverberating in the hallway. Luckily, no one was around at this hour, and you cringed at the unexpected disturbance. Glaring at the box, you raised your brow. "You scared the living daylights outta me."

Alastor stayed silent for a while, claws digging into the cloth of his coat, ripping the fabric. With a snap of his head to the side, he dropped it to the floor and moved toward his staff, his shadows playing on the intricate patterns of the carpet beneath his feet.

"Do you perhaps mean… Vox-2-Nite?" His voice, usually smooth, carried an edge.

"Is that the name? I thought you hated telev—Oh. Ohhh..." As you ascended to the higher floors of the building, a realization swept over you.

Alastor's relationship with Vox was complicated. It didn't take a genius to see that. If the ceaseless back-and-forths on broadcasts, the turf wars that had casualties matching mass-extinction events, and the hushed gossip circulating among the other performers were anything to go by.

“Small world,” you chuckled, strolling down the hallway that led to the performers' rooms, the echo of your footsteps blending with the distant murmur of conversation. “I’m guessing I shouldn't take her up on the offer?”

"Absolutely not," Alastor practically snarled out, venom dripping from his tongue. The radio in your hand crackled and buffered, a faint golden glow emanating from the dials. "That pompous piece of shit television is nothing but a clout-chasing, mediocre host flitting between this fad and another on his little picture show podcasts."

“I know, love.” With a swift turn of a doorknob, you opened the door to your flat. "I wasn’t… planning… to…”

Your words trailed off, lingering in the air, as you entered the room. Your eyes widened in awe, captivated by the sight of a bouquet of white roses gracefully adorning your bed.

"Alastor," you spoke into the radio, your voice filled with genuine warmth. "Did you send me roses?"

Back in the hotel, Alastor, settled back into his plush couch. The fiery embers of his anger melting away like a fleeting shadow, replaced by the realization that you had discovered his gift.

A soft chuckle came from the radio, "Guilty as charged, cher. "

Your heart fluttered, and you sank onto the bed, dropping the radio on your mattress and taking the bouquet into your hands. The delicate petals felt soft against your fingers as you admired their beauty. White roses, unlike red ones, were so scarce it was difficult to get a hold of.

"Alastor, this is… wonderful," you spoke into the radio, smile so wide your cheeks almost hurt. "Why—How did you even—How did you even manage to find these?"

"Oh, I pulled a few strings," your husband grinned before chuckling, "and a few limbs too."

Your laughter intertwined with his and Alastor listened fondly, finding solace in the melody of your delight.

The day you inked that deal with Mimzy marked the onset of an agonizing pain he had never experienced before. The thought of leaving your sorrowful self under the wretched contract of that avaricious woman had incited a frenzied rage within him, leading to weeks of unbridled slaughters on the streets of hell.

The blood he spilled onto the sidewalks left a stain on the concrete that lasted months.

Fortunately for you and him, the ordeal was nearing its end. Just one more year remained until Alastor could finally reunite with you. After enduring decades of this agony, an additional year seemed like mercy.

"You like it, cher?" Alastor's voice dropped an octave lower, the satisfaction evident in his tone, pleased to bring happiness to your moment.

"Yes," you laugh, cradling the bouquet in your hands. "I like it very much."

˚୨୧₊♱

[catscidr]

// taking care of your dogboy (hsr edition!) //

i. note — sry i havent been posting yall i got a job + ive been working on three cosplays at the same time bc my local con is coming up lmao (´ཀ`」 ∠) however the brainrot never stops. it only takes a break. a little break of approximatively. a month. ish. ......... anyways dog hybrid hsr boys brainrot !!! lmk if we want more of this with more boys •ᴗ• comments and asks are appreciated hehe ii. includes — blade, gepard, boothill and gn!reader iii. cw — slice of life stuff turning into smut, possessive behaviour, overstim, slight dom/sub dynamics, real messy stuff, manhandling. use of the word "hole" to keep reader gender neutral iv. wc — 1,9k

blade is a mutt riddled in scars and dirty bandages from living on the streets and fighting to survive.

you think he might be some german shepherd mix, but he refuses to let you swab his teeth n gums for a dna test (last time you tried you narrowly avoided a punch to the face. he apologized in his own way afterwards), so whenever people ask, just say he’s a rescue to avoid revealing that you actually just… don’t really know what breed he is. they usually drop the subject and simply go on their merry way, seeing as he wasn’t the type of pup to appreciate affection from strangers anyways– it’s rare for you to leave the house in the first place, though.

you had to switch to a remote job because blade is just so persistent when it comes to you. although possessive is a much better descriptor, because he doesn’t let anyone near you. whenever you leave to get groceries he ends up practically breathing down your neck from how close he gets— acting as if he were your literal shadow— glaring at everyone that gets too close to you. you’ve made it a habit to always go to self-checkout lane so blade doesn’t scare off the cashiers.

the second you get home he’s all over you, determined to rid you of that outside stench and replace it with his own. you started packing your grocery bags in a way that nothing will break if (read: when) you suddenly drop them on the floor, all because you’re so familiar with blade’s impatience.

he holds you still by engulfing your body with his, knees caging your hips as he grinds into you, shallow and deep. blade’s growls and huffs fill your ears just as much as his cock fills your hole, his knot kissing your tightness from the outside.

“do you like this? like how i have to fuck you every time you decide to go outside again when you could stay here,” with me blade omits, his tail swishing back and forth on the bedsheets behind him, the sound just barely grounding you to reality.

your grocery bags were long forgotten on the foor (as they usually are), your mind too foggy to function. clawing at the sheets, you try to crawl away from blade’s grip— to no avail.

he tuts, craning his head to bite down onto the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. “i might just need to mark you for extra precaution,” he bucks into you, knocking the air out of your lungs. you hear squelching, the constant plap! plap! plap! from his thighs smacking against your ass and whine, broken babbles leaving your kiss-bruised lips.

“b-blade, y’can’t- ah,” he shushes you by plugging you full of his lengthy cock, his knot almost threatening to press inside of you. you whimper, feeling lightheaded from a mix of both nervousness and arousal.

he soothes the hickey he left on your neck, licking it languidly as he stills to bask into the way your hole throbs around him. warm and tight and oh so tempting.

“shit, wanna fill you. wanna… have everyone know they can’t have you. you’re mine, mine to love ‘n mine to fuck,” you’re not lucid enough to process his thinly veiled confession, too busy writhing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to get him to continue moving.

you might want to invest into some good concealer or into those skin coloured tattoo patches to cover the bruises and bite marks blade’ll leave on you if you want to continue being a functioning member of society. you can’t really be walking around in public as if a dog had just mauled you right before you left the house, can you?

gepard is a golden retriever because of COURSE he is. similarly to blade, he likes to invade your personal space a lot— not because he’s possessive, but because he’s extremely protective of you.

the random bruises you used to randomly notice on your body faded as soon as he came into your life. gepard’s soft, lingering touches healed them; gently placing a hand on your hip before you bump into sharp furniture so it doesn’t hit you, redirecting your head to his shoulder as you nod-off in the train before you bang your head, and so on.

it’s a full-time job and he’s working 24/7, always on the lookout for anything that could possibly hurt you as you saunter off… wherever, without a care in the world— because he took care of everything!

he would clean the apartment for you, cook (though you usually insist you do the cooking; a human doesn’t have the same taste in food as a hybrid), and even act as your own personal alarm clock. gone were the days of being woken up by loud, blaring beeping. gepard woke you up with forehead kisses instead, making your mornings much more pleasant.

but poor geppie, he’s always taking care of you; so take care of him, won’t you?

every so often you’ll sit in his lap to help him get rid of whatever stress he held in his body. your hands will knead at the muscles in his broad shoulders, all while you simultaneously kiss away the strain in his face. his brows are furrowed as you do your best to soothe his muscles; you never forget to smooch his cheek, nose and the corner of his lips.

though the attention and gentle acts of affection always ends with your hands lower than they should be.

“ah ah, no touching, remember?” you murmur in his ear playfully. you had been at it for what felt like hours; gepard’s cock and abdomen was smeared with the remnants of his cum, skin tacky from his previous loads. your hand shows no sign of stopping, not even when he begged oh so sweetly.

“c-come onn. just… jus’ wanna kiss…” and who were you to deny your sweet boy? your lips find his in a heartbeat, his tongue swiping over your own sloppily as he breathes you in like a depraved man.

the only condition you had when you did this was for him to keep his hands to himself— at least until you both decide to move on to something else. until then, his fists clench the sheets beneath the both of you, and his ears stay flat on his fluffy head.

“i’m… i’m close again, g- aah, please, please…!” he begs, cock weeping precum as you continuously jerk him off. you smile, absentmindedly rocking your hips to the rhythm you held him prisoner to— gepard was too engulfed in the warmth of your hand to notice, anyways. “cum whenever you want sweet boy,” you purr, and he keens as he buries his face in your neck, his hips lifting off the bed ever so slightly as they meet your hand and he thrusts, riding the high of his orgasm.

sticky cum coats your hand for the nth time; you relent your grip on his cock for his sake, instead choosing to shower him with chaste kisses all over his face. gepard whines, taking ahold of your waist weakly as he breathes into the crook of your neck.

“geppie, your han-“ he cuts you off, swiftly switching positions so you’re now laying on your back as he hovers over you, chest rising and falling quickly, catching his breath from the intensity of his orgasm. gepard’s tail wags slowly behind him as his hands creep up from your waist to your chest just as slowly- you feel his cock harden against your pelvis, precum spilling from his pinky tip.

“‘ts my turn now,” he huffs, leaning down to nip at your neck.

boothill is the most obnoxious dalmatian hybrid you’ve ever seen (not that you’ve seen many, or at all). but he’s made your life so fun so you can’t be too mad at him

he’s always dragging you out of bed to go do something— could be going to the park nearby or sit in the living room playing video games on your dusty console, it doesn’t matter because he’ll MAKE you step out of your cozy nest!!

you’re glad he’s friendly, because you’re not sure how you would handle such an excited hybrid when you left the house. people come up to the both of you to chat and he indulges their questions, essentially leading the conversation (while you stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to say).

boothill is also great with kids, unexpectedly. 9 times out of 10 when you go to the park he ends up playing with someone’s child, bright smile on his face as he messes up their hair with a rough hand. they’ll throw a frisbee for him to go catch and he’ll do it happily, or he’ll even… teach them how to beat people up.

(you stare mortified as he teaches a little girl how to throw a proper punch only for her to then punch her parent when she leaves boothill’s side. you go up to them and apologize profusely, forcing boothill to bow with you.)

he also loves to help you out, even though he’s not the greatest at household chores— but he definitely tries! though he is a stellar cook, which never fails to surprise you whenever he’s on dinner duty. he just… really sucks at everything else.

it’s… mostly because he just has so much energy. he sweeps the floor? nope, he’s picking off the pieces of the broom off of the floor because he accidentally broke it. he’s fixing your bed? nuh uh, you’re throwing out the ruined bedsheets because he accidentally tore them to shreds somehow.

so, with all of these accidents happening because he’s just brimming with energy 24/7, you started purposely exhausting him. or, rather, gave him the green light to exhaust you until he tires himself out.

“booth-aah, w-wait, you’re being too…!” you fall over on top of his hard chest, keening at the new angle his cock reached inside of you. he repeated his assault on the spot that made you see stars as your jaw gaped, broken moans leaving your lips.

“don’t tell me y’re tapping out.. haa, already!” boothill grunts, his grip on your hips tightening. he throws his head back with a loud moan, abs tensing as he nears yet another climax— the 5th one of the night. maybe, maybe not. you lost count after the third one.

you bury your face into the crook of his neck, focusing on the feeling of his cock plugging you full instead of the soreness, the burn in your muscles that came from your knees holding you up on his lap.

watching you riding him will always be his favourite thing in the world, even if he always ends up fucking up into you and taking back control at the end of the night.

“gonna cu-uum…” you whine, clenching around his length almost painfully tightly, hearing his breathing hitch as an orgasm is ripped out of him in consequence to yours. boothill’s fingers dig into your ass, his hips lifting off the bed as he cums deep inside of your sloppy hole again, sticky fluid building up beneath the sheets.

you collapse on top of him fully, chest heaving against his own as you come back to your senses, slowly but surely. boothill’s ears perk up, hearing how your breathing had evening out.

“so… got another round in ya?”

[rafeandonlyrafe]

safe

words: 1.1k

warnings: home break in (not really described though), drug dealer!rafe and reader, pregnant!reader, husband!rafe

“r-rafe.” your voice is timid and shaky, so unlike what rafe is normally used to hearing. he instantly knows something is off, wrong.

“baby, what is it?” rafe asks into the phone, wishing he could see your face right now, could read the emotion in your expression.

“something uh-something happened. the police are here.”

“shit, are you alright?” rafe is suddenly moving away from the party, needing the noise of music from the live band and people talking and laughing to stop drowning out your words. “is the baby alright? did barry get caught?”

“yeah, we are both fine.” you press your hand against your stomach, the spot your baby always kicks, glad when you feel her stomp against your skin, reminding you she's okay, even if you don't currently feel like you are. “its not the business. there were some um… robbers.”

“what?” rafe shouts, knowing he probably just made you jump over the phone, but he can't help the loud reaction, needing more information, and needing it now.

“yeah they came into the house. i hid in the closet, but they found me. they didn't do anything, just shoved me a bit. they did take a lot of the jewelry you got me, i don't know what else, you'll have to talk to the police and give them a full invento-”

“shit, y/n!” rafe interrupts you. “i don't care about our stuff! i only care about you and the baby. im coming home right now.”

“okay.” you whisper over the phone. “im sitting on the front porch.”

“and police are watching you?” rafe asks, hurrying to his car, not bothering to explain to anyone his sudden leaving as he tears out of the parking lot.

“yeah, they're here. don't worry, im safe. i don't think they even had weapons, at least none that i saw.” rafe can hear you take a shuddering breath, his heart breaking that he wasn't there with you, foot pressing down even harder on the pedal to get him there faster. “the police think they broke in and expected no one to be home because of midsummers.”

you look down, rubbing your hand over your belly. “guess they didn't expect me to be home because none of my heels fit anymore and even the maternity dresses make me look like a whale.” you mean it as a joke, but it has tears flowing down your eyes, wishing you would have just sucked up your insecurities and gone with rafe. you still would have got robbed, but without the trauma of being there during the break in.

“im two minutes, baby. two minutes and you'll be safe in my arms.” rafe tries to keep his voice calm for you, but it's a struggle.

“i… i just wanna be safe.” you mutter the last words of the call, voice breaking as you begin to sob. rafe hears an officer try to calm you, but he knows it won't work, knows the only thing you need is him.

he parks haphazardly behind the police cars, fully blocking the street without a care in the world, not even taking the car keys out as he runs across the yard, sprinting until he reaches you.

“im here.” his arms are finally around your shoulders. “im here.”

you continue to sob, only lessened by pressing your face into rafes chest as he cradles you, even managing to pull you onto his lap despite your protruding baby bump.

“ive got you, princess.” rafe kisses the top of your head, continuing his reassuring words, the police officers giving you some space, but not retreating any farther than the steps leading onto the porch.

“oh my god, i was so scared.” you whine out, managing to blink back your tears enough to look at rafe.

“im so sorry baby.” rafe sighs. “i should have been here.”

“no.” you shake your head. “you had to go to midsummers. it's okay.”

“as soon as you said you weren't coming, i should have canceled it. should have never left my pregnant wife at home alone. im the worst fucking husband.” rafe knows his words aren't comforting, but he needs to make sure you know that he is the one to blame for what happened.

“what?” you press your fingers against rafes cheeks. “you couldn't have known, baby.”

“i still should have been here.” rafe leans in, taking your mouth in a strong kiss. “i love you, baby.”

“oh my god, you're not gonna leave my side for the next year, are you?” you let out a tiny laugh, the noise relieving rafe, loosening some of the tension in his chest.

“definitely not, my love.” rafe pulls you closer.

“thank you for coming so quickly.” you whisper, letting your head rest against rafes chest. “i really am okay. just freaked out.”

“don't worry, baby.” rafes voice suddenly changes tone. “the second they try to sell any of your jewelry, ill find them. they won't make it far at all. ill make sure they can never hurt you or anyone else ever again.”

you know you should tell rafe to let the police handle it, to not get personally involved in clearly dangerous men, but any man who lays their hands on a pregnant woman doesn't deserve to breathe, let alone only be punished to a few months in jail like what would no doubtabley happen if you went the legal way.

“im surprised you haven't called barry already.” you laugh softly, knowing he will be just as pissed as rafe. you came into their life and helped expand the business, turning them from lowly dealers to something bigger, better. still dealing, of course, but offering protection and other services as well.

“figure id let the police leave first.” rafe rubs your back, glad that you're slowly getting back to your jokey and sharp witted self. “before he insisted on being your personal armed guard until those guys are put in the ground.”

“yeah, once baby girl pops, im going to have to ask him to teach me to shoot. just in case anything like this happens again.” you feel bad that you relied so heavily on rafes protection, that you let yourself slack to the point where an emergency arose and you hid in the closet instead of grabbing a glock.

“hey, what about me?” rafe whines, knowing he'd never let another man teach you how to shoot, not even your joint business partner barry.

“fine.” you joke, sighing and sliding off rafes lap. “you better go talk to the police about what else might be missing. i wouldn't let them snoop around.”

you don't keep anything illicit in your house, but just in case you weren't about to give the law open access to your home.

“in a minute.” rafe keeps his arms around you, not willing to let you move too far from his hold. “need to just keep my wife in my arms for a few minutes longer.”

you look out onto the sky, the stars glimmering in the darkness of light, allowing yourself to take a full, deep breath, at peace held in your husband's arms.

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid

[maxlarens]

sidewalk rule and george!! idk I think it would be cute 🫶

i was writing a logan thing but this took over my brain. never fear logan girlies it’s still coming. also first time writing george 🤔🤔🤔 hope it’s okay. and also a bit shorter than what ive been typically doing for drabbles but i needed to kind of warm up my george writing

You’re holding a sizeable bouquet of wildflowers picked from community street-side planters. A mix of purples, pinks, blues and white— it reminds you of being a kid in the England countryside. The stone cottage your grandparents owned before you all made the move to the outskirts of London. You’re excited to put them in the little glass vase that your Mum used to own, set it on the windowsill in your kitchen.

But it’s not complete quite yet, there’s always room for more and the flowers are just so pretty.

You keep letting go of George’s hand, ducking in front of him and carefully picking stems from the greater plant. Before rejoining his leisurely stroll, again and again.

“Sorry, Georgie,” you apologise for what feels like the millionth time, “I can’t resist.”

He smiles at you, toothy and bright. Shakes his head to say it’s not a bother. Lets you take his hand again.

You do it a few more times before you sigh and switch the hand you’re holding the bouquet in, “We need to swap sides. I keep cutting you off.”

George laughs, “I have almost tripped a couple of times. But it’s fine, don’t worry. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

You frown, grabbing at his right hand, “We need to swap then.”

He shakes his head again, a crease forming between his eyebrows. He dodges your reach for his hand, slips behind you and slings an arm around your shoulder. It keeps him on your left, on the road side. You frown a little more at that—

“Georgie, what are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he hums, “It’s just the sidewalk rule.”

“The sidewalk rule,” you roll your eyes, a little exasperated but not quite meaning it.

“Yeah,” he squeezes your shoulder, presses you against his side, “I stand on the car side so if we get hit you’ll live.”

A laugh bursts out of you, “Well I think if a car comes barreling at us it’s not going to make much of a difference, hun.”

He shrugs, you can see him smiling, growing wider by the second, “Yes, well, I’m being chivalrous and all that. So just shush.”

“Ah,” you concede, “I see. How upstanding of you, Georgie. Putting your life on the line for me.”

He laughs, giggles at the absurdity of it, “I try, sweetheart. I try.”

send me a prompt/req + driver and i’ll write something. pls make sure my requests are open first 💖

[autonomyofadeer]

sevika and her baby ✧.*

16+

plot: sevika stumbles upon a hidden gem inside the brothel. who is to deny her her fun after a long day?

tags: genderless, zaun au, fingering, cunnilingus, choking, ribbon tying, spanking, sevika x reader, fem bodied reader

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

it's currently 10:04 pm, the brothel has been slow today for some odd reason. people whisper about a brawl that happened between silco's men and some barkeep, but i pay no mind. babette suddenly knocks on the wall to my room.

"y/n? there's a customer here for you." babette tells you, a sly hint of hesitancy in her tone. why was babette nervous? there was no time to be thinking these dumb questions, i had a client.

"thank you ma'am." i reply hastily. i jump out of bed, slipping on my fox mask, orange with hints of gold lacing along the edges. i tighten my black and gold corset, pulling the strings to cinch my waist. lastly i slip on my heels and i lie on the bed waiting.

after a few minutes, loud footsteps could be heard from across the hall. until they stopped at your room. a metallic hand pulls aside the curtain. my eyes go wide. it was the all known sevika, the woman that men scattered in the streets from. the most well known and powerful woman in all of zaun was now in your room, wanting your time.

"so.. what's your name doll?" sevika says, the words dripping from her tongue like pure honey. she strides towards me until shes stopped at the foot of my bed.

my mouth seems to go dry, my tongue being stuck in my mouth and suddenly i no longer know what to say. i have to admit, i was frightened of her and of all the stories ive heard.

"hm? cat's got your tongue? too bad.. wish i could hear your beautiful voice." sevika replies to herself, cupping my chin in her hand as she slips off my mask. she runs her fingers over my lips as a prompt. i slack my jaw and she easily slips her fingers into my mouth. i circle her thumb with my tongue, suckling slightly on it.

"jus' like that doll." she murmurs to me as she presses her thumb flat on my tongue, causing me to gag.

"such a pretty thing" she says to me as she moves over to the table of toys. "too bad you'll be ruined once im done with you." she tells me as one last warning. she grabs a set of ribbon ties and a blindfold.

my eyes flutter at the items she picks up. "y/n." i stammer out, "my name is y/n" i tell her as she moves back to the bed. i move into the middle of the bed as she kneels at the edge of it.

"such a pretty name for a pretty lass like you, yeah?" she tells me, my face going a pale pink. she suddenly pulls my wrist, spinning me around and onto my stomach. my face was now shoved into the pillow. i try to ask what shes doing, but it's to no avail.

she ties the ribbon around my wrists, binding my arms behind my back. suddnely she pulls my head up by my hair, a pained grunt escapes my lips. a silk blindfold is slipped over my eyes. the world goes dark.

metal clanking can be heard behind me, suddenly im spun around onto my back. god i wish i could see what she looks like, i start to imagine her body.. toned abs? c or d cup? what scars does she have? and suddenly i feel a little too damp in my underwear.

sevika moves closer to me, my lower half now balanced on her thighs. a ripping sound of fabric is heard as my underwear is shredded with her knife. "just trust me, okay?" she whispers into my ear before a moan is ripped from my throat.

her fingers pinch and rub at my clit as moans slip from my lips. everything seemed heightened due to the blindfold. i needed more- i needed her. i move my hips up closer to her, whimpering for more.

"so needy" she mumbles before giving a small slap to my clit. a strangled moan escapes my mouth.

suddenly all friction is moved away for a few minutes until i feel her hot mouth on my peppled nipple. i arch my back, up and into her mouth. small and soft grunts come from her mouth, only spurring me on. after a while of abuse to my breasts, a sharp stretching pain takes control of my body.

she easily plunged 2 of her thick, warm fingers into my dampness. i wince at the pain, but it quickly subsides as she starts rubbing my clit with her other hand. i go to say something, but im quickly cut off as she curls her fingers up and into just the right spot.

my vision goes white for a hot second until i feel her dragging her fingers in and out of me. every few seconds she curls her fingers inside of me.

"please- shit- sev!" i quickly moan out as i start to feel my orgasm approach. i start to grind my hips against her fingers, my thighs clamping around her waist.

"jus' a little more. almost there." she reassures me as she quickens her pace.

sharp and loud moans are drawn from my lips as i feel hot liquid drip down my core, i squirted all over her shirt and pants. a soft moan can be heard from her lips.

i groan at the loss of sensation as she pulls her fingers out, i can hear her licking my juices off her fingers. the dip at the edge of the bed suddenly dissapears as she gets up.

a damp and cold cloth strokes against my clit, sending a jolt down my spine. "easy, im jus' cleaning you up." she coos to me.

next thing i know the binds on my arms are coming undone, falling down at my sides. i pull them to my stomach as i rub the leftover marks where the ribbon was. i take off my blindfold to thank her for her service, but the curtain was already shut. she had disapeared like most of my usual customers. three silver and a bronze coin lay at my desk.

i wonder if i'll ever see her again.

thank you for reading if you got this far! this is my first post, not sure if ill do more. just depends on if people like my writing!

[galedekarios]

the splendours of waterdeep

Gale: I hail from Waterdeep, the City of Splendours.

we've all heard gale introduce himself and there's a certain pride that colours his voice. but what exactly are waterdeep's splendours?

1. general noteworthy things about waterdeep

i) waterdeep is one of the cleanest cities in the realms

this is not only achieved by having many of waterdeep's buildings and facilities connected to a sewer system, but also through waterdeep's dungsweeper's guild. the members of the guild make their rounds through the city, sweeping streets, collecting trash, litter and refuse.

this service is paid for by taxes.

ii) waterdeep's water system

waterdeep boasts an extensive water system that enables the city to have free access to clean water. this free access comes in many forms: fountains, wells and bath houses. some establishment even have their own access to fresh water in form of tap water "with the turn of a knob", as volo puts it in his chapbook about the city.

iii) waterdeep, city of light

waterdeep possesses many signs and street lamps that are lit with continual flame spells:

hundreds of driftglobes also illuminate the city each night:

A driftglobe was a small glass orb that magically floated in the air and emitted light.

in addition to these magical means, so called lamplighters keep the streets lit - with the exception of the field ward and more dangerous areas of the dock ward.

iv) waterdeep and literacy

waterdeep is one of the most literate cities in the realms.

the font of knowledge is a temple to oghma, god of the domain of knowledge, in waterdeep. priests of oghma "valued, preserved, shared, sought, created, or uncovered knowledge and learning. [x]" the priests there offer free instructions and lessons in reading to everyone. the temple has a library, known as "the great library".

the city has many publishing houses and printing presses. books and chapbooks (short books containing various topics from memoirs to romances, politics, etc.) are popular, as are small and large paper advertisements that dot the streets and alleys. broadsheets are popular too in the city:

A broadsheet, also known as a short scroll, was a short, printed document which usually contained tabloid-style news or political rants. They were common in Waterdeep, where they were sold by broadcriers on the main streets.

some of these broadsheets popular in waterdeep are [x]:

The Vigilant Citizen, which was one of the most reputable broadsheets in the city.

The Blue Unicorn, which reported paranormal events such as haunted mansions or undead hiding among the nobility.

The Daily Luck, a sheet aimed at gamblers.

Horkle's Gossip Cauldron, whose style of writing was said to be profane and blunt to the point of rudeness.

The Mocking Minstrel, one of the most read broadsheets in the city, known for its caustic and sarcastic tone.

The North Wind, which focused on nobility gossip and fashion.

The Merchant's Friend

Halivar's Broadsheet

restaurants and other establishments in waterdeep often have printed menus that are placed outside, as well as handed out to those who choose to eat there.

2. the griffon cavalry

"Waterdeep doesn’t have the fabled flying ships of Halruaa, but it does deploy an aerial defense force. Brave warriors of the City Guard light out from the Peaktop Aerie atop Mount Waterdeep, riding fearsome griffons that have been bred and trained for that purpose. Each of the riders is equipped with a ring of feather falling — not merely to prevent death from mishap, but to allow them to perform stunning feats of aerial acrobatics. In both martial displays and in real battles against flying threats such as manticores, harpies, and outlaw wizards, the griffon riders actually leap off their mounts into the open air! For a breath-stealing moment, they fall like stones, closing in on their targets at incredible speed. Their opponents rarely see the griffon riders. When they are past the danger, the free-falling riders then suddenly halt in the air, drifting like feathers until their griffon companions swoop in and they regain their saddles. Working in concert with one another in this fashion, members of the Griffon Cavalry can rapidly eliminate any threat to the city — and even catch the body of the offender before it hits the rooftops below. Riders of the Griffon Cavalry are trained to stay above the rooftops, not because they fear crashing into towers and weather vanes, but because the smell of so much horseflesh in the streets below can sometimes drive their griffons into a frenzy."

[from: volo's waterdeep enchiridion]

3. the walking statues

"Over a century ago, just one of these eight behemoth statues stood visible at the northern foot of Mount Waterdeep, on a bluff called Gull Leap. Ninety feet tall, it resembled a bald human staring out to sea. Later events (discussed below) caused it to be transformed into the statue known today as the Sahuagin Humbled. When the Spellplague gripped Waterdeep in 1385 DR, six more walking statues suddenly appeared in the city, wandering to wreak havoc even as the Sahuagin Humbled remained motionless. The authorities and citizens of Waterdeep succeeded in stopping three of these new statues, breaking the Swordmaiden and the Hawk Man, and sinking the God Catcher into the street up to its waist. Then all the statues mysteriously stopped their rampage just as quickly as they had begun it. Tsarra Chaadren, the Blackstaff at the time, couldn’t command them to return to their former hiding places on the Ethereal Plane. Consequently, the city repaired itself and built up around them. Much later, in 1479 DR, the eighth statue — the Griffon — merged from the Ethereal Plane to defend Ahghairon’s Tower against intrusion. It roosted there for a time before flying to its current position near Peaktop Aerie on Mount Waterdeep. Once more, this activity seemed to be outside the Blackstaff’s control. Thankfully, all the walking statues have been dormant for well over a decade now, serving only as beautiful, cyclopean reminders of Waterdeep’s might."

[from: volo's waterdeep enchiridion]

the walking statues are:

the god catcher

the griffon

the sahuagin humbled

the great drunkard

the lady dreaming

the honorable knight

the hawk man

the sword maiden

below you'll find more lore and backstory about these walking statues of waterdeep:

[from: volo's waterdeep enchiridion]

edited to improve format and added text descriptions of the statues for easier reading:

the great drunkard

This walking statue stopped its rampage as it approached the Market, then fell backward and sat upon a building. When it settled, its arms fell limp at its sides and its head tilted forward onto its chest, giving the impression that it had fallen asleep. The statue’s huge stone battleaxe still stands nearby, its haft angled upright and its blade half buried in the cobbles. The rubble of the crushed building was long ago rebuilt into a broad stone stair (with railings and a ramp that drunkards are often rolled down) that ascends from the cobbles to the statue’s lap. That lap now holds a two-story tavern also built from the rubble, called Gralkyn’s Tankard. The unconscious pose of the statue and the tavern in its lap made the name of the Great Drunkard a natural fit.

the god catcher

This is perhaps the most famous walking statue in the city, thanks to its dramatic pose, its nearness to the Market, and the self-evident magic of its existence. The statue is of a well-muscled but impassive male human with its left leg sunk to the hip in the street, the result of a spell cast by the Blackstaff at the time of its rampage. Its left hand and right foot press against the ground as if it is trying to pull itself out. Its right arm is raised skyward, and above its open palm floats a sphere of stone. Its gaze looks up toward the sphere, and the pattern of bird droppings around its eyes gives it the appearance of weeping. All about the statue, climbing up its chest and on its knee and shoulders, is a tenement that carries the name “the God Catcher.” The tenement’s landlord is Aundra Blackcloak, an unsociable sorcerer who is rarely seen in the city except when she alights from the door carved in the floating sphere, which serves as her home. On the rare occasions when she wants to meet with city folk (typically to purchase odd substances for magical purposes), she appears unannounced on balconies or rooftops after dark. Her dealings are polite, though, and she pays fair coin. She never confides in anyone or talks about her own doings — and if anyone but she has ever seen the inside of her spherical home, they’ve said nothing publicly about it.

the griffon

The walking statue called the Griffon is shaped like the beast for which it is named. Though it stands on all four legs, its back is fully twenty feet off the ground, making it a mount fit for a storm giant. Although it has shown itself to be capable of flight, with the granite feathers of its wings spreading like a bird’s, the Griffon now merely stands in a regal pose near Peaktop Aerie atop Mount Waterdeep, looking to the southeast over the Dock Ward. Newcomers sometimes assume it to be a monument to Waterdeep’s Griffon Cavalry, but Waterdavians know better.

the sahuagin humbled

For years, the only visible walking statue of Waterdeep was known simply as “the walking statue.” It stood at the foot of Mount Waterdeep near the head of Julthoon Street. Then, after its critical role in defending the city against an invasion of sahuagin in 1370 DR, Khelben Blackstaff reshaped the statue into a sahuagin. It now bows low toward the House of Heroes on bended knee — a gesture of obeisance to the city, and an acknowledgment of the sacrifice of all who fought for the city in that war.

the lady dreaming

This fair lady caused much chaos when she was active. The statue has the appearance of a female elf, whose hair and clothing appeared to flow naturally as it walked through the city during the Spellplague. When the walking statues stopped, this one toppled onto its side, taking on the appearance of a titanic sculpture of a noble lady asleep in her garden.

the honorable knight

The Honorable Knight is a statue of a male warrior in plate armor with a shield and longsword. When the walking statues stopped, it bowed to those opposing it, straightened, sheathed its sword, and doffed its shield, setting it point down on the ground and upright by its side. It then ceased motion in this position, facing southwest toward the harbor, and looking for all the world like a castle guard standing at ease. The pose it assumed led to its naming, and it is viewed with respect by the citizens of the southerly wards.

the hawk man

This statue looks like a winged, hawk-headed being, and thus locals call it the Hawk Man. I can reveal that in fact it bears much resemblance to an aarakocra, one of the bird-people said to live in the Star Mounts in the High Forest. The statue’s wings are folded tightly against its back and have never unfurled, leaving its flight capability uncertain. It was brought low during its rampage across the city, and now it tilts decidedly toward the northeast due to a missing right foot — long ago broken up for building rubble, along with its right arm. Its left arm is extended out toward the north, palm forward as if in a gesture to say, “Stop.” The body has been hollowed out and turned into a tower shared by several wealthy tenants, which is officially known as Sparaunt Tower after its owner. The statue’s left hand extends over a courtyard to the north, wherein lies the entrance of a tunnel carved through the arm. Visitors and residents can ring a bell in the courtyard, whereupon a door guard acknowledges the ringer and lowers a rope ladder for tenants and expected guests (or a rope chair that is drawn up for guests who are infirm or laden with heavy items).

the sword maiden

This statue appears virtually identical to the Honorable Knight, except for its female form and open-faced helm. It was felled during the Spellplague after causing much chaos and slaughter. The residents of Waterdeep’s North Ward funneled much of their frustrated and dismayed reaction to its rampage into dismantling the statue, parts of which can now be found all over the North Ward, either incorporated into buildings or as bits of freestanding sculpture. The head of the Swordmaiden sits in a stand of tall trees in the center of the block of the North Ward bounded by Hassantyr’s Street, Tarsar’s Street, Whaelgond Way, and Ussilbran Street. The center of its jaw and mouth have been replaced by a door, which leads into the shop known as Thort’s Findings. Undevvur Thort is a wizened ex-adventurer who leans on a cane (which some locals insist is more than just a cane). He lives in the small shop, whose many levels, staircases, and landings fill the hollowed-out interior of the head, and which is crammed with oddments sold to Thort by adventurers and other travelers. These items bear little placards in Thort’s beautiful, flowing handwriting that identify them (or at least provide speculation as to their origin and purpose). Nobles and wealthy merchants who desire props for themed revels often rent some of Thort’s wares as decoration — and many sages, alchemists, and wizards visit him regularly in search of potentially useful items.

[froggibus]

Sex Rocks! - AMAB! Venture

Pairing: AMAB! Sloan Cameron x fem! Reader (reader uses fem pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Sloan is in for much more than they bargained for when they find a statue with magical properties—and you might be the only one who can help them out

CW: porn with plot, AMAB! Venture, sex pollen (but it’s a magical sex statue), dubcon, masturbation, showering, dirty thoughts (abt reader), slight voyeurism, blowjob, hair pulling, face fucking, cum swallowing, cock riding, mating press, multiple orgasms, protected AND unprotected sex, doggy style, multiple rounds, overstim, lots of cum, (think that's everything) use of the word shaft (im so sorry i hate this word but there’s only so many synonyms for dick)

yes the title is a pun ^.^ i meant to post this way earlier in the day but i got distracted and didn't end up finishing til tonight and it came out WAY LONGER than i thought. this is fr the longest smut ive ever written. anyway venture whores hope you all enjoy <3

It must’ve been Sloan’s lucky day. After barely an hour of searching, the glittering artifact they’d been looking for seemed to jump right out. Though the dusty gold colour blended in with the shimmering sand of the cavern, the three pink gems of the small statuette seemed to call to them. 

The figure was cold to the touch and buttery, barely bigger than the size of their hand. It was shaped like a beautiful curvy woman, with full breasts accentuated with the pink stones and a thick tummy—the likeness of some old, forgotten deity that Sloan could never remember the name of. 

They took out a soft piece of cut cloth and wrapped the statue before tucking it in their pack and beginning the short trek to the surface. Sloan buzzed the whole way up, that warm tingling washing over them. The kind they always felt when they found a new artifact, or when you laughed at one of their dumb jokes. 

As the surface came into view, the golden sunshine just beginning to dip below the horizon, the warmth grew stronger. It had been a hot day, and it seemed that though the sun was setting, the heat had not yet begun to dissipate. They took a long pause, letting themself rest on the rocks outside of the cave.

Wiping the sweat away from their forehead, they took a big drink from the canteen of water they’d brought along with them. It was a short trek, they weren’t usually this sweaty and parched from something so basic—but with the warmth of the day at its peak, they shrugged it off.

The car they’d taken was only just down the trail, maybe ten minutes away. With one last sip of their cold water, they tucked it into their pack and started the walk back. The sky was turning pink as they set off, but slowly turned to purple and then the rich black of night.

Despite the day’s end, the heat only grew more unbearable with the walk. Their thighs cramped as they made their way down the trail, their heart beginning to race. Whatever, they tried to ignore it and power through to the car.

Sweat coated Sloan’s forehead and chest by the time they made it to their vehicle. Their hair was slicked to the back of their neck, and the t-shirt they’d been wearing was rendered near see-thru. 

“Jeez,” they sighed, tugging off their t-shirt.

They tossed the sweaty fabric into their backseat along with their pack before sliding in the front seat to drive. They kept the AC on full blast the whole trip back home, though it did little to stop the boiling in their blood. 

Sloan was just pulling off the highway when a gasp forced its way out at the sudden tight feeling in their pants. They risked a glance down to their hard cock now straining against the thick fabric of their carharts. They shook it off, turning onto their street and trying to ignore the feeling of the bulge in their pants only growing with each minute.

It was almost painfully hard by the time they made it home. Sloan almost forgot their pack in the back of the car in their race to get inside and free their aching cock from the fabric that confined it. 

A sigh ghosted their lips when their cock sprung free from their boxers and they wrapped their sweaty palm around it. Their core was near sweltering, their cock throbbing in need. 

With a glance at the door to make sure it was locked behind them, Sloan spat in their hand and started to spread it across their aching cock. A shiver crawled its way up their spine, acting as a brief reprieve from the heat that threatened to consume them. They clamped a hand over their mouth and began to slide their hand up their length.

With barely a touch, they were already so sensitive. Pre cum dripped down the tip, pooling across their fingertips and mixing with the saliva already spread over their skin. They squeezed harder, dragging their hand up and down faster. Their muffled moans vibrated against the clammy skin of their palm, their eyes falling shut as their hand fell into a rhythm.

Thoughts of you filled their head. Thoughts of your smile, of your warm skin, of pinning you to the bed and using you however they pleased. Sloan gasped, opening their eyes as they came into their palm.

Fuck. Cum rolled across their fingers, down their still hard cock and collected into the hair at the base of their pubic bone. They smeared the remainder of the cum on their thighs, shaking off the aftershocks of their orgasm and deciding a cold shower would solve both the mess they made, and the throb between their legs.

With their clean hand, they dragged their backpack with them all the way to their bedroom, tossing it in the corner before grabbing a towel and heading into the bathroom. They didn’t wait for the water to warm before stripping and stepping beneath the brisk stream.

The cool water settled the burning beneath their skin—but only just barely. Much to Sloan’s dismay, it also did nothing to soothe the ache between their legs. It was almost embarrassing, having an unrelenting boner for no reason like they were in school again.

They sighed, squeezing some coconut scented body wash into their hand and slicking across their cock. They didn’t bother to change the water back to warm, instead opting to let the frigid stream drip down their back. The nice smelling soap felt much, much better than their own spit—but they could imagine a few things that would feel even better.

Like your pretty lips wrapped around their tip, those kind eyes of yours pleading at them to cum in your mouth and—Sloan moaned, fingers clenching around their hard length. Just the thought of you touching them, or them touching you, was enough to have Sloan gasping and furiously jerking their cock.

Drops of soap flew away from their palm with every stroke, splattering the tile of the shower in front of them. God, wouldn’t they love to do that to you. What they wouldn’t give to do that to you. To have you lay down in front of them, completely at their mercy while they fucked you relentlessly and left you covered in their cum.

Their cock twitched, and then they were cumming. Wave after wave of hot cum burst out, coating the tile in front of them before being washed away by the water. Hard, shaking breaths wracked their chest as their senses returned to them and they could once again feel the cool water against their tanned skin. 

As they looked at the cum mixing with the water down the drain, all they could think was ‘what a waste.’

It only took ten minutes after their shower for the tingling in their cock to become unbearable again. The heat had returned almost immediately—and with a vengeance—but they’d managed to ignore the tenderness between their legs for only ten minutes.

Sloan was glad they didn’t bother putting their clothes back on as they settled into their bed and grasped their shaft once more. Cumming once or twice a day was normal for them, but this was something else entirely. Something had to be wrong.

Sloan pushed away their fears and started once again stroking their dick, leftover water and precum acting as a lubricant for their hand to easily slide around. They closed their eyes, and let themself think of you once more. 

How their cum would look running down your thighs, or splattered on your back. How nice your hands would feel gripping their cock, how you’d just beg them to fuck you.

Sweat dripped down their chest, wetting their tummy and the dark hair at the base of their cock. How long had they been jerking off this time? They risked a teary eyed glance at the screen of their phone—had it really been almost twenty minutes since they laid down in bed?

Twenty minutes and they were no closer to coming, but their dick was growing uncomfortably hard. A sigh passed through their lips. Their hand wasn’t enough, they needed something more, something hotter. 

Their mind went to you, pleasure hazed thoughts wondering if they called you, would you come? Would you help them? Before they could think it through, their fingers were dancing across the screen. Just the sight of the tiny contact picture of you at the top of their screen had them squeezing tighter, thick drips of pre cum rolling down their tip.

Sloan lets themself fall back into bed, their mind dancing away to thoughts of you sinking down on their cock. They roll their head to the side, their eyes catching sight of the bag they’d carelessly tossed in the corner just before their shower. 

Could the statue have done this? There were myths surrounding it, sure, but this? The thought was preposterous a week ago. Now though, with their insatiable lust, the thought doesn’t seem so crazy to Sloan.

Shit. They shouldn’t drag you into this. If it really is the statue, they don’t want to expose you to this. They reach for their phone to ask you not to come, to send you away, but just as their palm reaches the cold metal, the front door clicks open.

“Sloan?” You call, peaking your head in the front door. As soon as you’d gotten their message, you’d left your house. You’re talking more to yourself than them at this point, tiptoeing through the dark of their home. “I used the spare key you gave me to get in…are you here?”

Sloan bit their lip at the sound of your voice, risking a glance to the bag that contained the statue. Maybe inviting you here wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

“In here!” they call. Their voice is raspy, dripping with the need radiating from their core.

You follow the sound of their voice to the closed door of their bedroom, warm light leaking out from the cracks. It’s Sloan, and they don’t sound like they’re in danger, but something about their voice…

You push open the door. It takes two seconds for you to scan the room, two seconds for your eyes to fall on Sloan—sweaty, writhing and desperately jerking their cock in bed—and two seconds for you to turn away, covering your eyes.

“Shit,” you gasp. “I–I didn’t mean to walk in on you.”

But it’s strange. They called you here to help them, they knew you were going to come into their room—was this what they needed your help with? You couldn’t help but clench your legs at the thought, a heat rushing to your core.

Sloan’s voice cut through the darkness of your hand. “I-it’s okay,” they say. “You can look.”

You slowly peel your hand away from your eyes. Though they covered themself with a blanket, you could still see the glistening skin of their chest, and the up-down motion of their hand beneath the fabric. 

Sloan knows it’s shameless of them to keep stroking their cock while talking to you, while you’re right there watching—but they can’t stop. Now that you’re here in front of them, the pressure’s increased tenfold.

You squint. “What’s going on?”

“I found that statue.” They keep jerking off.

“And?”

“The rumors about it were true.”

“Fuck,” you curse. 

When they’d been telling you about the myths behind the statue, you’d both laughed it off, stealing wanton glances at each other as you did. They’d assured you it wasn’t possible, that there was no scientific reason a statue would bear unto its users an insatiable appetite for sex.

Seeing them now, though, all sweaty and desperate, has you thinking they were wrong. 

“Sloan,” you say calmly, stepping in the room and gently shutting the door behind you, “what can I do to help?”

They bite your lip, and it’s just now that you notice their eyes are almost completely black in lust. A shiver runs up your spine. 

They pull back the blanket. “Touch me,” they swallow. “Please.”

You glance at their thick, throbbing cock dripping in precum. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, wrapped up in the worst possible way. It wouldn’t be right—they’re clearly not thinking straight. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Sloan’s not sure whether it’s the statue, or their frustration, or some terrible combination of the two that prompts them to say, “oh don’t tell me you haven’t been wanting me to fuck you for months.”

Their brazenness sends another wave of heat to your core, your underwear suddenly feeling wetter than usual. “Sloan,” you say carefully.

“If you’re worried about consent,” they rasp. “I want it. All the time. For months, too. I think about it nonstop.”

Their words ease your nerves, and you find yourself approaching their bedside. Your eyes stayed glued to their cock and the hand furiously stroking it. “What do you think about?”

They watch you, dedicating each pump of their length to you. “I think about you while I fuck myself. I think about—about fucking you, and having you bounce on my cock and—god.”

You sink down on the bed next to them, wrapping your hand around the one rubbing their dick. “Let me.”

They slide their hand away, letting you take over. Already, your hand feels a million times better than theirs ever did, the ache in their core finally beginning to relent. They lay their head back, watching your hand glide across their sticky skin.

They suck in a breath. “Fuck,” they look at you through their lashes. “Use your mouth.”

You’re taken aback by their command. Their cock looks so inviting, dripping wet and throbbing in your palm. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever had which only makes you want it more.

You look them in the eyes while you lick a bead of precum away from the tip. Sloan shivers, wrapping a hand in your hair and pulling you down. You gasp as you take their cock into your mouth, wrapping your lips around it. It’s salty, a mix of sweat and precum, with a strange undertone of coconut—but it’s just how you imagined it.

Your jaw strains to take them into your mouth, their tip hitting the back of your throat after only a few seconds. You gag slightly, but Sloan only pushes your hand down further, groaning at the warmth of your mouth. This was exactly what they needed.

As soon as you start to see black spots, they pull you off. A strand of drool connects your lips to their length, dripping and coating your chin. They hum at the sight of you, so filthy already.

“Do you like how it tastes?”

You’re so flustered, so bewildered by the situation that you can only nod, clenching the base of their cock. You put your lips back on their tip and eagerly slide down for more. Their calloused fingers still tug at your hair, using the strands like reins to push and pull you how they see fit.

Sloan watches you intently the whole time, admiring the spit that coats your mouth and the way your throat bulges when they pull you a certain way. They’ve dreamt about fucking you for months now, but none of their wildest dreams could ever compare to this.

Despite the way your eyes water, Sloan pulls you down further. You look so fucking cute choking on their thick cock—they can’t help it. When you finally slap a hand against their thigh, they let go of your head and watch you gasp for air.

“Get on your knees,” they command.

You can only nod, not trusting your voice with the way your throat burns. The dominance in them only makes you wetter, a noticeable throbbing rushing through your clit. You’re all too eager to settle on your knees at their bedside.

They cup your chin, swiping their thumb across your lips to smear your drool and their pre across them. “So cute,” they murmur.

You lean back in to take their cock once more, but they tsk at you. Just as you tilt your head in confusion, you watch as Sloan grips their cock and rubs the messy, wet tip across your mouth. They smear it all across your face, making a mess all over your cheeks and nose.

A whine slips from your lips before you can stop it, but Sloan only laughs at it and finally lets their cock slap against your mouth. You open wide and take them once more, rolling your tongue over their length.

“So eager,” they tease, their fingers resuming their position in your hair, “if I’d known you’d be such a slut for me, I would’ve fucked you months ago.”

Sloan watches the shame glimmer in your eyes, followed by pure pleasure, and doesn’t miss the way you rock your hips against the floor. 

It only takes a few minutes of you on your knees before they’re coming, pushing your head down so you have no choice but to swallow their cum. Your eyes shoot wide as the hot cum spills in your mouth, pulling back from their cock and opening your mouth so they can see it.

“Good girl,” they purr. “Now swallow.”

You nod and obey without a second thought, licking their cock a few more times after to clean up the excess. “Sloan,” you say quietly, your voice raspy from the way they just fucked your throat.

“Hm?”

“Do you have condoms?”

They tap the nightstand that you’re sitting next to. “You wanna fuck me?”

You pass them the condom, eagerly waiting as they lay back in bed and roll it over their cock. Though they’re slow to put it on, you don’t miss the way their hands shake in anticipation.

Sloan watches you the whole time as you strip, discarding your clothes as quickly as you can. You climb onto the bed and straddle their waist, a knee on either side of their hips. Their hands clench your waist tightly, fingertips digging in hard enough to bruise. 

Usually Sloan would be happy to let you adjust, but with the warmth of your pussy right there, they can’t wait any longer. Using your hips as leverage, they thrust up into you, the tip of their cock bottoming out against your cervix.

You cry out, burying your head against their sticky chest. “Sloan,” you whine.

“Sorry,” they pant, but continue thrusting into you.

You relax into them, slamming your hips into theirs to meet their rhythm. It’s painful at first, both the stretch of their cock and how deep it reaches—but it’s amazing, too.

Sloan barely thinks as they pound in and out of you, using your own body weight as leverage to get their cock deeper and deeper with each thrust. Your whines are like music to their ears, complemented by the rhythm of matching groans they loose every time their cock brushes your cervix.

You cum so hard you swear you go blind for a second. Everything is hot, your vision goes white, and all you can focus on is the way your cunt is gushing around their cock, juices coating their thighs. You go limp on their chest for a minute, letting them fuck you like a toy while you recover.

Sloan’s own orgasm isn’t far behind, their cock twitching as they spill into the condom—though they’d much rather spill into you. They almost draw blood with how tightly their nails dig into your sides, and the only word they seem to remember is your name.

Even though they’re unbearably hot and their cock is so sensitive it hurts, they still need more. 

“Can I keep going? Tell me I can keep going.”

You’re exhausted from the brutal pace they’ve set, but their cock fills you so well and they sound so desperate, you have no choice but to say yes. Upon your agreement, Sloan is flipping you onto the mattress beneath them and bending your legs to your chest. 

They can get deeper like this, and Sloan knows it too. They start their pace off slower this time, trying to give you time to recover before their own need takes over. They hold your hands, pinning them above your head while they fuck you.

Their eyes lock with yours as they increase the pace, the tip of their cock hitting that spot inside of you perfectly every time. There are tears in your eyes from the pleasure, but it only makes them harder. 

“Too deep,” you whine, squeezing their hands with as much strength as you can muster.

“You don’t love having me fill you up?” They mumble into your ear, “if I can’t stuff you with my cum, I’ll fill you with my cock.”

You gasp and squeeze your eyes shut, their dirty words sending you over the edge. You try to clench your knees together but Sloan’s body is in the way. They fuck you through your orgasm, squeezing your hands back with every bit of pressure you squeeze theirs with.

“That’s it,” though their words are soft, they punctuate each one with a thrust, “cum on my cock.”

They slide their hands down your body, resting on your hips once more. Their thrusts start to get sloppy, and you know they can’t last much longer like this. You reach up, desperate for something—anything—to ground yourself, your fingers coming in contact with their hair.

Sloan whines and cums in one sloppy motion, resting their head on your neck while they lazily thrust through their high. Soft groans and whines vibrate against your collarbone.

It takes a minute for them to collect their strength again, pulling their cock out of you. You look at them through tear blurred vision, eyes widening at the cum soaked condom dripping into the wild tangle of hair at the base of their length. There’s a ring of white around their cock from it all, and the only thought crossing your mind is how badly you want to lick it off.

Sloan can’t decide whether to admire the sheer amount of cum filling the condom, or be disappointed that they weren’t able to fuck it into you instead. They pull it off of their cock and toss it onto the floor—it’ll be a pain to clean later, but they don’t care. They reach into their nightstand for another one, but your hand wraps around their wrist first.

“You’re still hard?”

As if in reply, their cock twitches against your leg. Though the searing heat has finally begun to fade, the pure need coursing through their veins has not.

“You’re done already?” They counter.

“N-no,” you say quickly, though your pussy feels unbearably sensitive in the cold room. “But you don’t need to use that.”

They look down at the purple wrapper in their hand, then back up at you. Their eyes practically glitter in anticipation. “Raw?”

You nod shyly, reaching out your arms to beckon them back to you. You’ll never be able to match their insatiable pace—you know that—but you told them you’d help, even if it means letting them use you like a fleshlight.

They plant a kiss to the base of your throat, a devilish twinkle in the dark of their eyes. “Roll onto your knees.”

With their help, you roll onto your stomach and pull your knees up, arching your back to give them access to your dripping cunt. Too tired to keep your chest up, you rest your cheek against the single pillow in their bed and let yourself relax.

Sloan’s hands retrace the marks they left on your lips earlier, positioning you perfectly to line up with their cock. They land a harsh slap to your cunt with the head of their cock and slip it in all at once, relishing in the gasp that leaves your lips.

They rock their hips into yours, reaching up to tangle a hand in your hair. With one hand gripping your hips and another in your hair, they piston into you. You bite your lip to try and cover the onslaught of moans they fuck out of you and pray that Sloan doesn’t have neighbors—although at this point, they’ve probably heard enough.

“Feels even better raw,” they groan, balls slapping against your clit with a particularly brutal thrust. “S’like it was made for me.”

The burning in the pit of your stomach grows at their dirty words, your pussy utterly gushing around their length. Without the condom, you can feel the desperate throbbing of their cock, feel every twitch of their tip when they bottom out inside of you. They reach everywhere inside you, rubbing places you didn’t even know you had.

Waves of pleasure roll over you, each more intense after the last. Your pussy flutters around Sloan’s cock, but their pace doesn’t slow. They keep slamming into you, lewd slapping noises loud enough to cover your desperate moans. They tug your hair hard, pulling you closer, and roll their hips against yours.

Their cockhead brushes your cervix and your eyes roll back in the sharp pleasure that travels through your pussy. Drool leaks from the side of your mouth and your moans transform from fully formed words to stupid sounding babbles.

Sloan releases your hair from their grip and moves their hand to massage your ass. “Sounds so cute when you whine,” they coo breathily.

Your senses all come flooding back to you when you feel the first spurt of their hot cum inside of you. Your tummy flutters with butterflies, your pussy contracts, and you cum with them. Both of you writhe in bed against each other, Sloan’s desperate, near primal pants like music to your ears.

“Fuck,” you groan as you collapse into the bed.

They keep their cock inside of you, shallowly thrusting their cum back in. “Please don’t stop,” they whine. “Please, I-I need more. Please.”

Your whole body burns, your pussy is so sensitive you’re not sure you’d even be able to cum again. “Sloan,” you sigh, looking back at them. 

“Please. Please let me keep using you. Please. You don’t even have to do anything but please let me use this pussy,” they pinch your clit in emphasis. “Please.”

“Well, with begging like that,” you joke.

Sloan wastes no time slamming their cock back inside of you, and though you can hardly feel the harsh slapping motion, you can tell their pace has slowed. You lay there, sweaty and hot and with their cum dripping out and being fucked back in.

Sloan murmurs praises to you while they thrust, their mind half gone from how fucking horny they are. They can see cum dripping down your pussy, down your thighs and it’s so filthy and it’s so hot and all they want is more. They pound into you, chasing that final high they may or may not get, desperately gripping your sensitive skin until there’s marks.

Finally, they cum again, their hot cum gushing until you’re so full it starts to burst from the seams between your pussy and their cock. Sloan watches it leak out in a trance, as if in disbelief that not only did they fuck you, they also just fucked you raw.

The heat has completely faded from their body, and as they pull out from your cunt and watch the cum drip, their cock finally starts to soften. “Are you okay?”

You manage a weak thumbs up from where you lay in the bed.

Just as they go to put on their pants, their cock twitches again, and the heat comes rushing back. Sloan sighs, looking at you guiltily, “think you can do a round 2?”

overwatch masterlist | masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

[jasmines-library]

I know i’ve already sent in a lot of requests, i practically live in your inbox(not sorry), but i just wanted to know if you could whip up some really angsty stuff?

Maybe something with reader being on patrol and she just randomly passes out and just won’t wake up again?

idk, i’m just craving your content😞🙏

Veins

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Note: Anything for you my love. Dont feel bad for sending them in, i smile everytime your name is in my inbox. sorry for the wait. :))

Warnings: Poison/drugging, passing out, needles, ivs but non graphic

Word Count: 1.3k

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

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There it was again. That funny feeling. You couldn’t quite place it, but it tickled the back of your mind. Physically, you felt fine. There was just something off about the whole night. Tim was running alongside you, the soles of his boots making little to no noise as he weaved nimbly down the street. Dick was slightly ahead; you were watching his six.The three of you were currently pursuing Poison Ivy, who royally pissed off, was threatening to release a batch of poisons into the water supply; naturally, it was your job to try and stop her before she could actually get there. Batman was also in pursuit, but he was coming from the other side of the city which meant that the chances of you and your brothers stopping Ivy before she got there were pretty high. 

You had almost caught up with Ivy when it happened. You could see her ahead, her torn clothes flapping against the winds that whipped between the skyscrapers and whistled down the alleyways. You pushed yourself to run faster, feeling the burn in your calves as you raced towards her auburn figure. You would have caught her if you didn’t catch a glimpse of one of her goons perched on a window ledge. It was dark, but you could practically see his crooked grin as he leered down at the three unsuspecting vigilantes. By the time you had realised what was actually happening, it was too late. 

The needle dug deep into your neck, with such a blunt force that you would have yelped if you didn’t have the sense to plaster your hand over your lips. It stung and would most certainly leave a bruise later. But what worried you was not, the soon to be bruise, but the groggy sensation that began to settle over you. 

Blindly reaching for the syringe, you pulled it from your neck with a grunt. It clattered to the floor. Everything seemed to swim before you in a mix of colours. It made you feel sick. And suddenly your body felt numb, stubborn limbs refusing to move how they normally would. You lurched forward stumbling and trying to grip onto the wall to keep yourself upright. It was hardly any use though; whatever they had stuck you with made it nearly impossible to tell which way was up as your world span. You had fallen behind, moving without a coherent thought as you tried to keep up with the speck that you thought was Tim. Everything was too loud, but you could make out no sounds, just a piercing ringing. 

“R’vn…” Someone was talking to you. You weren’t even aware you had stopped and hands swam in front of your face. Touching. Someone was touching you; their hands were against your shoulders trying to keep you upright. But who…

There was no face in front of you. Only a mangled mess of colours and an echo of your code name frantically falling from their lips. They were trying to get you to respond, to say anything but your eyes and glassed over and your limbs had fallen limp in against the stone wall you had been stumbling against. 

And then your body gave up completely.

Tim had to scramble to catch your body as you keeled over, ragdolling into his arms with limbs splayed out in each direction. He cursed, panicked and settled you down on the ground to stand over you. Wide eyed, he pressed the emergency signal on his coms, praying that Dick would get to you quickly and that Batman was close enough to catch Ivy. 

He tried your name again, shaking you by the shoulders. There was no response; your head just lolled to the side. It was then that he realised your body was hot. Far too hot. He struggled to get off his glove before pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. You didn’t even stir. 

“Son of a bitch.” Dick skidded to a stop beside his brother, palling at the sight of you on the ground. “What happened?”

“I-i don’t know. She was fine one minute and the next she practically collapsed against the wall-” Tim stuttered, unable to keep his composure. Usually, he was the one with the steady hand they could all rely on, but now he was completely short circuiting. 

With a curt nod, Dick tried to shake you awake, calling your name.

“I tried that.” Tim stated. 

Dick nearly snapped at his brother for making an irritating statement when he saw the lines spider-webbing up your neck. They were thin and black, spindling out like branches of a tree devoid of its leaves. Twisting your head gently to the side, Dick revealed it to Tim who swallowed thickly. 

“Drugged?” He asked meekly.

Dick shook his head. “Poisoned.”

Tim shifted his vision anxiously between Dick and you. His head perked up when something clattered off to their right. Dick was up in an instant, standing over you with his escrima sticks flickering with their angry blue charge. Tim reddied his bo staff.

“Go find them.” Nightwing ordered, standing over you protectively.  “I’ll watch her.”

Tim darted off for a moment as the older boy watched you with shifty eyes, hardly relaxing when he returned a few moments later. By that time you had begun sweating and your skin had grown clammy and gaunt .When he looked at him with optimistic eyes, the younger boy shook his head. 

“Nothing. But I did find this.” He produced a small syringe filled with a dark green liquid. The one you had pulled frantically from your neck.

“Good! That's good.” Dick exclaimed, taking a shaky breath. “We need to get her back to the cave. Page Alfred. Get him to prepare the infirmary.”

“On it.”

Sliding his hands under your body, he scooped up your limbs with ease. “Hang in there, kiddo.”

~

“Get her on the bed, quick.”

Alfred was on the two boys as soon as he heard the cave entrance fling open. Dick was sling clinging to you as he bustled through the door, hot on Tim’s heels who forced everyone out of the way. They all watched you with worried creases etched onto their complexions. 

Dick lay you down on the bed. As soon as he was out of the way Alfred was replacing the empty space beside you, inspecting the spread of the poison. It had now begun to crawl down your arms and up the side of your face. Your features seemed sunken and your heart rate was dangerously slow. 

He reached for a needle of his own, sliding it into your skin before hooking you up to an IV. 

“What’s that?” Tim asked. His voice wavered. 

“Hopefully an antidote and some fluids to flush it out of her system. Babs managed to analyse the sample you sent over. The poison is lethal, but because she managed to pull it out before the whole thing entered her system, we think this should help.”

“And if it doesn't?” Jason’s voice asked from where he had been lingering in the doorway.

“Let's hope it does.”

~

It took much longer than they had hoped for you to wake up, but nevertheless you did. Slowly but surely you cracked open your eyes and blinked at them groggily. It seemed that Alfred and Babs had been spot on; the antidote worked, but it made everyone nervous to think that if you hadn’t pulled out the toxin when you had, the situation could have been very different. Damian cringed at the thought. 

They had all been there when you woke up. They had been taking it in turns to watch you because they couldn;t bear the thought of you waking up alone, but when Jason called out that you were stirring they all rushed to your side to sit with you. 

It was nice to wake up with the all beside you, despite the fact that you felt like death. Probably because you had been so close to it. 

Ivy was arrested and sent to Arkham without much of a second thought.Batman had caught her before she managed to release the rest of her poisons. She had made an attempt on your life. It was safe to say that she deserved jail time for that, though there was no saying how long she was actually going to stay there for. 

The air was much lighter in the manor now that you were awake. You were still on bed rest for a short while, much to your protests and grumbling. But, luckily for you you were surrounded by a whole handful of people that wanted to do things for you that you didn’t even need help with. Not that you minded too much… Either way, they were there for you completely throughout your recovery, glad that you were going to be just fine.

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BATFAM TAGS

@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff

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[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 LATE NIGHT DRIVES!

FEATURING: nakahara chuuya

SUMMARY: it's felt like ages since you've last been able to spend time with chuuya with how busy he's been with mafia business. you know he'll make up for it, he always does, but this time, he goes above and beyond even by his standards.

(wordcount: 1k; sfw; fem!reader, not really any other warnings necessary just reckless driving & some hints of sexual undertones at the end but nothing explicit)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: ive actually had this in my notes app for an absurd amount of time idk why i hoarded it for so long

You think that there's nothing more freeing than the feeling of the wind whipping around you and the night sky vast above you as you race down open roads in the countryside west of Yokohama. you laugh wildly, spreading your arms as the speedometer of Nakahara Chuuya's motorcycle continues to edge upward. 

“Oi!” You hear him shout over the wind, “How many times do I have to tell you to hold on?” 

“Relax, Chuuya,” you complain, unable to keep the glee from your voice. “I know you’ve got me. There’s nothing to be worried about.” 

You can hear him scoff loudly, but you know that if you peek over his shoulder you’ll see his pale cheeks tinted pink, as they always are when you proclaim your unwavering trust in him. 

“Just hold on, would you?” he snaps, and you can hear how flustered he is just through his tone, so you smile and wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your chest against his back as you lay your cheek on his shoulder blade.

“If you wanted me to hold you so bad, you just had to say so, Chuuya,” you tease, feeling his abdomen tense beneath your touch as he bristles.

“You’re insufferable,” he murmurs. You only kiss the nape of his neck in response.

You'll admit that most people would find it reckless to be in this situation—with the speedometer crossing 150 kp/h and the streets dark and windy, but you swear it’s the safest you’ve felt in a long time. You’ve missed being with Chuuya. You’ve missed the feeling of his body against yours, you’ve missed the faint smell of wine beneath the familiar cologne he always wore, you’ve missed his sharp tongue that only ever lashes at you when you have him scared shitless with your carelessness. But in your defense, you refuse to call it careless because you know Nakahara Chuuya will never let you get hurt. 

That doesn’t stop him from getting anxious about it, though.

You smile to yourself as Chuuya finally slows down, pulling off on an unfamiliar side road leading into the woods. You prop your chin on his shoulder, laying the side of your head against his. 

“Where are you taking me?” you ask. “Finally had enough of me? Gonna kill me and dump my body in some backwoods?” 

“Yep,” he agrees easily, turning his head to the side to press a chaste kiss against your temple. 

You laugh, eyes drawing around the dark countryside before you lift one of your arms up to card your fingers through his hair.

“Quit it,” he mutters, with no heat behind the words. “You tryna make me fall asleep or something?” 

“Not my fault you’re so pretty,” you sigh, nudging your nose against his shoulder again before burying your face in the crook of his neck, basking in his presence as he slowly comes to a stop and turns off his bike.

“C’mon,” he says, “look.”

You lift your head, squinting as you look up in front of where he had come to a stop to see a small, nice cabin in a clearing within the forest. Brows furrowing, you swing your leg over the side of his motorcycle, getting off to take a few steps in the direction of the cabin, confused.

“What is this place?” you ask, turning back to look at Chuuya as he leans against his bike.

He’s watching you with a fond, affectionate expression that has your face hot because you aren’t used to catching him looking at you like that. He’s always quick to school his expression when you look his way, but he doesn’t this time.

“A place for us,” he says quietly, and you don’t know if you want to throw something at him or kiss him, throat closing up as you stare at him, trying to figure out if he's playing with you. “To get away from everything in the city.” 

“… For real?” you ask after a moment of silence, voice a bit more shaky than you intend for it to be. You know that Chuuya isn’t one to make jokes about stuff like this but you still want to be sure.

He raises his eyebrows and then tosses something in your direction. Only barely catching it, your eyes widen when you realize it’s a set of keys. 

“For real,” he agrees.

You think you might cry.

“Hey, why the hell are you crying?” 

You are crying.

Chuuya makes his way over to you quickly, gloved hands coming up to cup your cheeks, thumbs wiping away your tears as his brows furrow in confusion.

“I thought you’d like this.”

“I do,” you say immediately, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. You lean into his touch, eyes fluttering shut as he presses his lips to your forehead.

“Then why the hell are you crying?” he repeats, bemused.

“Because I’m happy, Chuuya,” you say quietly. “Really happy.”

“So you’re crying?” he questions, but then shakes his head, squinting as if to make sure you aren’t lying. Once he’s satisfied, a slow and sensual smile began to tug at the corners of his lips. “What do you say we go christen the bedroom then, yeah?”

You giggle, hand slipping down to intertwine your fingers with his as a giddy feeling spreads through you. As you drag him to the front door the cabin, you toss him a smile over you shoulder and say:

“Just the bedroom, Chuuya?” you tease. "Don't be such a prude."

You let out a shriek when you feel him suddenly grab you by the wrist, pulling you toward him before you can unlock the front door. His hands settle on your hips and you let out a pleased sigh into into his mouth when he presses his lips to yours, walking you backward until your back hits the door.

You feel him smile against your lips as he murmurs, "How about we start right here then, hm?"

[jenscx]

APPLE CIDER — nakamura kazuha

you’ve fallen in love with many things, like the mango ice-blend down the street, the weather after a rainy day and the puppy that you see on your morning walk. but nothing’s been easier to fall in love with than yunjin’s roommate.

tags fluff, sprinkle of angst, kinda crack fic, non-idol au, jealousy, non-established relationship, falling in love, my puppy zuha agenda, mentions of lesserafim and ive members, squint for annyeongz, basketballer!zuha that appears for one sec, mentions of drinking, cursing

wordcount 10.9k

you’re well-accustomed to yunjin’s antics. she constantly gets you into trouble, either embarrassing you or just involving you in her pranks. like doing silly tiktok trends on your friends or random strangers. you still feel a shiver of mortification when you recall the situations you’ve been roped into. 

yet, as yunjin’s self-proclaimed best friend, this might be the worst thing she’s ever done. 

the girl had forced, or in her words, heavily encouraged you to find a new roommate this semester. you think it’s because she’s tired of you nagging her for not doing the dishes. anyway, despite your reluctance, you managed to befriend someone from your social politics class and become her roommate. chaewon was like a breeze of fresh air from yunjin. sure, yunjin was your best friend, but it felt incredible to have some peace and quiet in the apartment for once.

chaewon was constantly out for practice with her cheer team which gave you some alone time to just unwind, something that you didn’t have the luxury of when dorming with yunjin. despite the newly formed distance between you and yunjin, the latter had still managed to see you almost every day. she was dorming alone because her previous roommate left the school, causing administration to give her the whole apartment. what would normally be a gift, was a punishment for yunjin, who could not survive a day without human interaction.

hence, she insisted on coming over to your dorm almost daily. it was common to just find her lazing on the couch when you came back from classes, or seeing her back at the kitchen counter, cooking something. 

which brings you to your current situation of standing out in the sun, groceries in hand, in front of yunjin’s door. it was a whole other building from your block and the weather was particularly harsh today. you tap your foot impatiently, teeth gnawing on the inside of your cheek. the paper bags were heavy, filled with a variety of ingredients that yunjin demanded you buy. apparently she was hosting some sort of dinner. you had no clue what the girl was doing half the time. 

yet, with the designated role of yunjin’s best friend, you had to skip out on lunch with chaewon to visit her dorm. sighing, you call yunjin’s phone again, but to no avail. as it rings, you press the doorbell again. why wasn’t yunjin answering? she literally told you to come earlier but was she even at home?

groaning, you thump your head against the door. as it hits the wooden frame, the door swings open, and the force nearly makes you topple over.

“motherfu—”

“oh my god, i’m so sorry!” you immediately halt in your curses. this wasn’t yunjin’s loud, boisterous voice. it was smooth and sweet. and in a different language.  

you tilt your head up, almost gasping at the stranger. your body was crouched down, but even from below, you could tell she was tall. maybe almost as tall as yunjin. her doe eyes were wide with shock and her glossy lips were parted. stunned in silence, you hastily get back up. clearing your throat, you bow your head slightly, “i’m so sorry.”

as you lift your head, you realise something.

the girl only had a towel wrapped around her.

blood rushes straight to your head. you feel your entire body burn with embarrassment as you look away swiftly.

“uh— sorry,” the girl mumbles, “who are you?”

you gulp, still facing away, “i’m looking for huh yunjin.”

“oh, i’m her roommate,” she says. you turn back to her, gaping. since when did yunjin have a roommate? that girl had some explaining to do. 

“you can come in,” the girl stands aside, her dark hair still dripping, “i’ll just, uh, go change.” you nod stiffly before walking in. the apartment hasn’t changed much from the last time you came. yet, there was a new addition to the framed photos perched on the shelves. you place the bags of groceries onto the kitchen island and walk back to the living room. as yunjin’s roommate heads into her room, you observe the photograph.

it holds a background of cherry blossom trees and standing in front of the wood is a young girl, reminiscent of yunjin’s roommate. if you had to guess, she would probably be eleven or twelve in the photo. even when she was young, she was already pretty. you couldn’t deny that fact. from her crinkled eyes to the curve of her lips, you wondered what her parents looked like to be able to birth such a cute kid.

the sound of a door creaking open pulls you away from the photo. yunjin’s roommate was now dressed in an oversized t-shirt that reached the top of her knees. a small towel was flung over her head, draping her hair. 

you decide it’s now an appropriate time to introduce yourself.

“sorry for barging in like that,” you grimace, holding out a hand, “i’m y/n, yunjin’s friend. she told me to come over and i wasn’t expecting to see someone new.” 

the girl nods, “i’m kazuha, nakamura kazuha.” her korean sounds a little hesitant and you note it off as her being a foreigner. she added, “yunjin’s roommate.”

“ah, i didn’t know she had a new roommate,” you say sheepishly. it was definitely yunjin’s fault here but you still didn’t want a pretty girl’s first impression of you to be so ridiculous.

“it’s okay,” kazuha says thoughtfully, “i moved in… maybe three days ago?”

no wonder yunjin hasn’t said anything to you. 

“i see.”

silence falls between you two and kazuha strides to the couch, flopping onto it.

“do you want to sit?”

it’s cute— the way she offers. as if it’s your first time coming over. despite your amusement, you humour her and sit down, a distance away from her.

“are you from japan?” you decide to ask. it’s a good conversation starter in your opinion. if the cherry blossoms didn’t indicate her ethnicity, the startled japanese that escaped her previously was a dead giveaway.

“mhm,” she hums, “i’m from osaka.”

this piques your interest. 

“oh, i heard that people from osaka are funny,” you state. it was probably from an instagram reel that yunjin had shown you weeks ago. 

kazuha shrugs, “i think i’m okay.”

somehow, even though she didn’t mean for it to be funny, you still find yourself chuckling uncontrollably. kazuha stares at you, probably weirded out, but too nice to say it.

“sorry,” you apologise again, “it’s just the way you said it.”

she frowns, “maybe i’m funnier than i thought.”

“yeah,” you smile, “you are.”

kazuha peers blankly at the unmoving tv screen, suddenly finding the black void to be very interesting. you decide to break the tension once again by asking, “do you know when yunjin’s coming back?”

“uh, no. i told her i was going to shower. she just left,” kazuha replies in broken sentences.

you sigh, defeated. checking your phone again, there’s a flurry of texts from the girl.

y/n 🤓 [4.16pm]:

open up

hey.

girl open up rn

hello??

are u srs

i’m gna break down ur door

yunjin 😍🥰 [4.47pm]:

OMGGG DONT DO THAT

im COMING

WAIT A MIN

ARE U WITH MY ROOMMATE?

glancing at the messages again, you decide it’s probably useless to reply and you turn off your phone, choosing to focus on the restless girl next to you. leaning back on the couch, you take the opportunity to admire her features. even in your haste, you managed to spot the sharpness of her collarbones and jawline. now, facing away from you, you could evidently see her broad shoulders and the bobbling of her throat when she swallowed.

damn, god did have his favourites.

“what are you majoring in?” you ask.

kazuha flinches slightly before answering, “dance.”

“oh, that’s…” you mumble lamely, “cool.”

she smiles, “what about you?”

she has a pretty smile too.

“bio medical.”

“you don’t look like a science person,” kazuha remarks. you can only raise an eyebrow. did she mean you look dumb? as if sensing your inner thoughts, she continues, “you look like you major in the arts.”

as you’re about to say something, the front door barges open, revealing a sweaty and panting yunjin who looks like she just ran a marathon. you scrunch your nose at the girl who only points an accusing finger at you, “choi y/n, you left me on read!”

raising your hands in mock innocence, “that’s not a crime.”

“it is when you’re corrupting my sweet zuha here!” yunjin exclaims, almost throwing herself over the coffee table into kazuha’s body. the girl jolts and swerves away as yunjin collapses on the couch.

“ew, you’re getting your sweat everywhere,” you huff, smacking yunjin on her back, “and i wasn’t corrupting anybody. i’m trying to have a nice conversation, right kazuha?”

the mentioned girl only nods hesitantly, her eyes wide and full of surprise. yunjin moans, “she told me she was going to shower and the next moment you text me. my roommate was naked and vulnerable and you’re a raging homo. i was connecting the dots!”

your entire face heats up as you recall the humiliating experience, probably worse for kazuha who looks like she’s about to faint.

“you didn’t connect shit!” you scoff as yunjin climbs onto you, gripping your hand. pushing her off and dusting your clothes, you flick her forehead, “i bought your things for you, so hurry up and pay me back.”

yunjin pouts, “isn’t my presence payment enough?”

you give kazuha the stink eye as she stifles a laugh.

“no,” you deadpan, “pay up.”

your best friend merely sighs and pulls out her phone, transferring you fifty thousand won. 

“anyway,” yunjin turns to kazuha cheerfully, “wanna stay for dinner, roomie?”

through an extremely awkward and silent dinner which mostly consisted of yunjin talking, you learn that due to some flight issues, kazuha could only attend school at its midpoint. even from a glance, you could tell the girl was timid and shy but the language barrier only further strained her social skills. additionally, she had been forced into rooming with yunjin. the shocked expressions she carried whenever yunjin did something strange only attested to her unfamiliarity with the girl.

despite their lack of closeness, yunjin still somehow manages to carry the conversation smoothly. you juggle between checking on kazuha and admiring your best friend’s ability to be so shameless.

“zuha,” yunjin mumbles through a spoonful of rice, “do you like blackpink? or are you a bts fan?”

you scoff at yunjin’s obsessive question. it was so evident that she wanted to ensure kazuha was a fan akin to her.

kazuha, however, brightens up and instead exclaims cheerfully, “i’m a blink!”

you can only guffaw at the incredulous look yunjin carries. 

“me too,” you say, filling in the previous silence due to yunjin’s despair, “i like jisoo.”

“really?!” kazuha gasps, “my bias is jennie!”

as you converse with kazuha about blackpink’s unfortunate absence, yunjin only grumbles and stuffs her face full of food.

it’s been a few weeks since you first met kazuha. yunjin constantly invites you over rather than going to your dorm because she needs her two favourite people in the same space or whatever. you’re pretty certain she said the same thing to chaewon the other day. the older girl had also been introduced to kazuha, albeit begrudgingly because according to chaewon, anyone that spends time with yunjin willingly was probably a spawn of the devil. you don’t necessarily disagree.

you spend your day studying and going to classes, and your nights playing mario kart and monopoly with your friends. yunjin had proudly declared friday to be the designated game night and somehow, chaewon managed to persuade another person into joining. just when you thought you would survive the hangouts, with the newest addition of sakura, who always beats yunjin and chaewon in video games, your chances of being able to hear diminishes every night. it’s something you can connect to kazuha with. the presence of the older japanese has gradually caused kazuha to warm up.

it’s a little silly how shy and sheepish the girl was at the beginning, but now after spending time with everyone, it’s normal to hear rapid fire korean erupt from her mouth. you often find her indulging in arguments with yunjin about the best ice cream flavour or which dog breed was the cutest. yunjin vouches for golden retrievers while kazuha vouches for samoyeds. you think they both remind you of puppies— overeager, almost towering puppies with too much energy.

if yunjin was loud, unashamedly herself, kazuha would be the opposite. you would see her staring into space, muttering to herself. it’s endearing watching how her eyes light up as sakura explains the basics of super smash bros to her. you learn that she didn’t have much of a free childhood, having to attend ballet lessons instead of going to sleepovers and playing video games.

“so you’ve never played super smash bros?” it’s funny the way kazuha cowers at the sight of sakura, who’s grasping her shoulders and shaking her intensely. as kazuha recovers, she mumbles feebly, “no… i didn’t even know it existed.”

her response only lights a fire within sakura who vows to make kazuha the best super smash bros player to ever exist. after her, of course. and somehow, it become a routine to also find sakura and kazuha huddled up in front of the television on the floor, both insistently smashing the buttons on the joycon. sometimes you stay and watch their games, other times you head into yunjin’s room to study. most of the time, you stay for dinner. chaewon has become expectant of your message popping up, reminding her that you won’t be home until after dinner. it’s normal that you would end up staying the night at yunjin’s now. yet, the close proximity with her roommate doesn’t aid you in your quest to befriend her at all.

almost every time you see her, it’s like meeting a distant relative. awkward. stifling. you’re always unsure of what to say. sometimes you wish you could run your mouth like yunjin, blabbing about random nonsense without any shame. but it’s difficult to talk to kazuha alone. at least in a group environment, you would have someone else to rely on.

you’re lounging on the couch again, biting the tip of your pen as you read through the numerous textbooks and notes for your upcoming test. too engrossed in your revision, you don’t notice the door swinging open.

hence, when a gush of hot air breezes past your ear, you jump. the fear dissipates any form of hesitance you have. swirling around, you clutch your chest as you reprimand, “don’t sneak up on me like that!”

kazuha only stares at you with wide eyes, a smug smile plastered across her face. you’ve seen her with that expression countless times now, always during game night when she wins second place in mario kart.

“are you studying?”

“yeah,” you scoff, still trying to calm your racing heart. your thick, black-framed glasses have almost slid down your nose entirely. pushing them up, you sigh, “back from practice?”

the girl nods. another new development. instead of joining the dance team— which you’re certain kazuha would be amazing in, she decided to join basketball with yunjin. a strange decision, no doubt, but the way yunjin speaks about kazuha during games makes it seem like she’s the next lebron. unfortunately your busy schedule hasn’t wavered at all, so you couldn’t attend any of their games this semester.

“yunjin tackled me today,” kazuha pouts. you allow yourself to pat her head encouragingly, “isn’t that a foul?”

“she said it was an accident,” the girl shrugs. it’s kind of believable. yunjin is clumsy and you have been on the receiving end of her tendency to fall on you. perhaps that was mistaken as a tackle.

you ruffle her hair, not minding the sweat dripping down from her bangs at all. it’s a little attractive seeing kazuha all sweaty.

“maybe it really was an accident,” you comment. kazuha’s face immediately turns sour. for a girl that is able to maintain her cheery look most of the time, seeing the drastic change in her facial expression makes you panic.

“ah… i meant…”

“why are you taking yunjin’s side over mine?” kazuha asks and god— you feel sorry for using his name in vain, but oh my god, kazuha whines. you’ve never seen her this way before.

you resist the urge to coo at her, knowing that she would only take it as an insult to her pride.

“yunjin’s clumsy,” you state, “and she wouldn’t harm you intentionally.”

kazuha turns away, still sulking, “i guess…”

she looks like a puppy who just received a scolding and if she had dog ears, they definitely would be drooping down now. you internally giggle at her cuteness.

“forgive the giraffe this one time, okay? i’ll scold her if she tackles you again,” you say, smiling. kazuha swerves back, nodding fervently, “yes, please do that.”

even though there’s barely an age gap between you and kazuha, you still feel a ravangeous need to protect the girl, as if she was a baby. sometimes you forget that kazuha’s not used to the culture here and you get to admire the childlike curiosity in her eyes. it’s an interesting sight to see, like she was experiencing her first life. you wonder, in the back of your mind, if you ever existed in her past ones.

there’s a lingering silence left after, almost a twinge of awkwardness in the air. you’re not sure what else to say to kazuha. but maybe she doesn’t feel the same— her body, lax, as she heads towards the washroom, humming what seems to be the melody of ‘playing with fire’. you laugh internally at her fanatic side. even if it’s not as overbearing as yunjin’s, kazuha definitely still is a dedicated fan. one time, you had to wake kazuha up from her nap, only to discover that her walls were lined with posters. maybe yunjin and kazuha bonded so easily over their love for their idols.

you hear the distant ruffling of the shower curtain and then the sound of water droplets splashing against the floor. leaning back into the couch, you try to resume your revision, eyes swarming over the textbooks sprawled all over. your efforts are fruitful, at first. at least you understand most of the content but eventually, your eyelids grow heavy and the muscles in your hand ache. taking a deep breath, you bring a sole textbook up, reading the paragraphs of definitions and explanations.

soon, your breathing turns slow and there’s an overwhelming need for your eyes to close. darkness fills your vision as your body slackens, sinking deeper into the softness of yunjin’s couch.

there’s a distant shuffling sound, far away from your ears. as you dream about emptiness, a warm embrace is thrown over your body, enveloping and engulfing your limbs in a tight hug.

sometimes you think that kazuha doesn’t like you. it’s a harrowing worry that creeps its way into your heart when kazuha sends you a hesitant smile after you had offered to go to the library together. it made sense to you— she needed to research something and you needed to complete your thesis. but that stupid smile followed by, “no, it’s fine. i’m meeting someone,” nearly breaks your heart. it’s a stupid feeling caused by an even stupider reason.

by no means are you jealous that kazuha’s going out with someone else, it’s just her rejection of you heading to the library together. why else would kazuha say no if she didn’t like you? was it that she couldn’t even bear the ten minute walk to the library? you had only swallowed harshly, trying to tide your tears over by looking back down at your textbook. yunjin’s in the kitchen, singing joyfully while she bakes a cake for whatever reason; you might have heard her mention that it was for somi’s birthday or whatever. thus, you can’t hide behind yunjin now.

you’ve never been so upset and bothered by a rejection before. and it was just a trip to the library together. yet, the feeling buries itself in your stomach, dragging it down into a bottomless pit while you bear it.

“have fun,” is what you reply. it’s dry but you can’t really bring yourself to act all excited and happy. just as kazuha’s about to leave, backpack in hand and her hair tied into two cute braids, she takes one look at you.

“are you okay?”

the concern in her voice feels uncomfortable, sheathing under your skin and prickling your veins.

“why wouldn’t i be?” you respond. kazuha only shrugs and waves goodbye while you resort to moping on the couch.

when yunjin calls for you to taste the cake, she doesn’t mention the hint of dried tears clinging below your eyelashes, only wrapping an arm around your shoulder and feeding you the dessert.

but she breaks the spell immediately when she blurts out, “cheer up, honeybun.”

“who the fuck is honeybun?” you retort, disgusted, momentarily forgetting about whatever had just transpired.

kazuha’s first instinct when she hears a series of knocks and shouts from outside the apartment is to answer the door. her hastiness causes her to momentarily forget that all she had on was a towel wrapped snugly around her body, fresh out of the shower. she unfortunately doesn’t hesitate when her hands tug around the door knob, revealing a girl who nearly falls in.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry!” kazuha shrieked as the random girl toppled over, almost hitting her bare chest.

and due to her stunted ability to converse in korean, kazuha couldn’t express herself too well, opting for short replies rather than accidentally saying something wrong. hence, she chose to sit beside you, who she just learnt is her roommate’s best friend, without speaking a word. perhaps you were perturbed by the silence and decided to ease the tension by asking kazuha some basic questions. yet, when faced with your curious, bright eyes, kazuha had no words to say.

this went on for a few days. the first few times you came over, kazuha only watched you from her room (not in a creepy way! she was just shy) and never initiated a conversation. she managed to talk to you once. just once. alone— when you had stumbled into their apartment while kazuha was just finishing her workout. you mentioned that there was a storm going on outside and if you went back home, you would be drenched. kazuha would never want anyone to be sick and thus, she lends you her freshly washed clothes to wear since yunjin’s clothes were too big.

because of your height difference, kazuha’s clothes are still a little oversized but she thinks you look really cute in the university sweater. she had managed to strike up a conversation about your classes, learning that you didn’t really talk to anyone outside of your small social circle and most of your friends were introduced by yunjin. kazuha expects it, the taller girl was easily the most extroverted person she knew and the social butterfly had a ton of friends around campus. yet, kazuha’s still surprised that you didn’t have many friends— you were a really nice and pretty girl, so why wouldn’t people want to be friends with you? she chalks it up as them being intimidated by you, her being a victim as well.

but don’t worry, she’s no longer intimidated by your presence, just a little shy! sometimes you ask to walk together back to yunjin’s dorm, now unofficially yours as well considering the fact that you spend most of your days there instead of your own. kazuha has heard multiple calls from chaewon, demanding to know where you were and if you got kidnapped. she’s not extremely sure why you decide to spend both your weekdays and weekends in their dorms but she has humoured the thought that perhaps you and yunjin were dating. it would certainly explain why you looked so comfortable latching onto the taller girl and when it’s someone like chaewon touching you—

kazuha shakes her head, knowing that thought was incredulous. yunjin herself had told her so firmly and openly that nothing would ever happen between you and her but kazuha still held her doubts. most of the time, kazuha’s unable to reply to your remarks or quips, merely mumbling, “okay,” in the lamest possible way ever. she hates the way your smile drops ever so slightly and the furrow in your eyebrows but she genuinely has no idea how to talk to you.

like that one time, kazuha remembers vividly. lisa’s new song had just dropped and the moment your eyes met hers, you instantly started rambling about the music video. because of her vigorous training beforehand, kazuha barely heard a word you said and she wasn’t that confident with korean either to register the rapid-fire words battering at her.

“wait— can you stop?” the words had come out blunt and direct, definitely not her intention, but your facial expression had softened and you nodded bashfully.

kazuha didn’t want you to stop talking but apparently her words had the opposite effect since you had gotten up from the couch and sauntered off into yunjin’s bedroom.

left alone in the living room, she doesn’t realise that she basically chased you away due to her fatigue, not until you emerge from yunjin’s bedroom again to leave the apartment entirely.

“where are you going?” she blurted out.

you shrugged, “back to my own dorm. i wanna see chaewon.”

kazuha didn’t know what else to reply with, so she just left it as that. hours later, when yunjin comes back from eating dinner with the rest of the team (something kazuha has skipped out on to go home early instead), she gets a light scolding to think before she speaks. kazuha knows now that her words were careless and insensitive but she doesn’t want to blame it on the language barrier.

or maybe that other time when you initiated going to the library together. kazuha already made plans with this other girl in her class called minji and she didn’t want to invite you without minji’s approval first. so the best idea at hand was to reject your invitation, right?

wrong.

the dimmed look in your eyes causes guilt to gnaw in her chest and she instantly regrets her decision. the text message of you lying on yunjin’s shoulder, sent by her roommate, passed out and sleeping, only drives the feeling further. minji had nudged her, asking if she was okay. but kazuha merely nods, not knowing what else she would be— if not okay.

she gets this emotion sometimes; not overwhelming her body but it’s sort of like a quiet hum that keeps her in a trance. she doesn’t know what to call it but she realises it’s been happening around you lately. maybe kazuha just likes the comfort you bring, like an older sister. but it doesn’t feel the same with others. sakura, the closest person kazuha can call family, the feelings that come with her are like a warm embrace. it envelopes her into the feeling of being back home. home as in japan. with her lulling words of kazuha’s mother tongue, it transports her back to osaka.

or like with yunjin, who kazuha considers as one of her closest friends. she can’t call yunjin her best friend since she’s sure that spot is heavily guarded by you but yunjin definitely matters a lot to her. yunjin keeps her safe. she makes her feel comfortable. like a pet, almost? that one family dog that kazuha wishes could stay with her forever.

chaewon, kazuha thinks she’s like an older sister. protective and possessive, even though kazuha doesn’t know her very well. chaewon makes sure to take care of her and whenever she sees kazuha in the hallway, there’s a sweet smile on her face. the older girl also manages to always ask if kazuha has eaten or not, which kazuha appreciates greatly since she easily forgets her meals.

but with you, kazuha doesn’t understand anything. she can’t read you easily compared to yunjin who wears her heart on her sleeve. she knows when you’re upset though, and most of the time, it happens because of her. it’s difficult for her to predict your emotions. you make her feel risky. like she’s dangling on the edge of something, ready to fall any time now.

she gets this feeling when she leaves you alone on the couch. she gets this feeling when you leave her alone on the couch. somehow the couch is always involved.

she gets this feeling when she spots you walking out of the lecture hall, someone’s grip on your elbow and her body fitting snugly to yours. kazuha doesn’t know what to say. she just stares as you laugh at whatever the girl says. the girl’s tall, kazuha notes. her short dark hair framing her face perfectly and giving kazuha a good view of how attractive she is. her eyes are crinkled into an eye smile and her dimples are as deep as the ocean.

you don’t notice kazuha since she’s standing by a corner, wondering if she truly meant to witness this intimate scene between you and someone else. kazuha wonders if that girl is your girlfriend. she wonders why you always hang out at their dorm, despite having a girlfriend. she wonders if yunjin knows and has met your girlfriend.

(not that she’s jealous or anything! she’s just interested in your life! as a friend!)

that same night— a friday, kazuha might add, their friday, game night friday— you don’t show up. she’s been waiting for half an hour now, her eyelids heavy and about to close when yunjin hears her phone ping. kazuha snaps out of it as yunjin reads loudly for everyone to hear, “y/n said she’s not coming. something about having plans already.”

kazuha resists the urge to pout while sakura and chaewom both groan audibly.

“she couldn’t have said that sooner?” sakura grumbles while she starts the mario kart round, her joycon moving rapidly to select the stage. just as the light turns green, kazuha glances at your empty seat and suddenly, she gets that feeling again.

“must be yujinie,” chaewon remarks and kazuha suddenly strange. despite being in her own home, she feels unfamiliar. who is this yujinie? why did chaewon know her too? did everyone just know your girlfriend before she came? kazuha bites the inside of her cheek as she passes the finish line, a few seconds after sakura. in the background, she hears yunjin and chaewon arguing. it all becomes muffled once she stares at the untouched bowl of popcorn you would usually be eating.

she doesn’t know if it’s normal to feel this way— like her lungs are collapsing in on themselves and she can’t breathe properly through her nose. it is normal to feel this way? about a friend? were you even considered to be a friend? maybe an acquaintance at best? kazuha has no clue what’s going on. all of her emotions and feelings feel out of reach and she’s gasping for control.

“zuha, are you okay?” a warm hand lingers on her shoulder. kazuha looks up from her spot on the carpet. it’s sakura, whose face is full of concern while yunjin and chaewon are still bickering.

“yes, i’m fine,” kazuha tries to smile and she even responds in japanese, being as sincere as possible. sakura nods before saying, “you can tell us anything, okay?”

(“i did not cause you to become twelfth— you just suck at mario kart!”

“say that to the thousands of blue shells you threw! you knew i was in front of you!”)

kazuha sighs, “it’s okay. i can deal with it.”

she doesn’t think she wants sakura to know of her feelings yet. not when she doesn’t know anything herself.

the athletes running up and down the long expanse of the basketball court never fails to amaze you. their stamina is extraordinary, having to sprint laps like that would surely have you gasping for air. if you had to go through such a routine, it would definitely have you on a hospital stretcher at the end of the day.

your eyes trail to the group of girls, huddled together with enormous sign boards covered in an assortment of decorations. you recognise some of the names, mostly since yunjin likes to babble about her teammates. one even had yunjin’s name and a cut out of her face glued onto it— you would definitely make fun of her later for it.

“hey,” chaewon slides smoothly into the seat next to you, “how was class?”

you groan immediately just thinking about the horrendous tutorials you had to endure in the morning. at least it was a morning class which gave you the leeway to come watch yunjin’s first game of the season. and kazuha’s too, but you haven’t seen much of her recently. after what you would call the library fiasco, you decided that being angsty and upset over a simple rejection was too immature and childish. hence, it would be best for you to step away for a while, lest you say something rude to kazuha because of your inability to control your own emotions.

“choi y/n! kim chaewon!” your head swerves to face the court. yunjin’s hand is outstretched and waving excitedly at you two. guffawing, you wave back while chaewon rolls her eyes, “does she have to say our full names like that?”

just as your hand falls, kazuha walks up to yunjin, conversing with her in hushed whispers. yunjin instantly jumps, jogging away from the benches and towards the centre of the court. your heart accelerates when the doors bang open. the other university team strolls in, all with their chins high, dignified and confident. you can only hope that yunjin holds the same conviction. you don’t really pay attention to the other team warming up and luckily, you had brought your textbooks along. using the spare time, you skim through your notes again, until chaewon nudges you.

everyone on court was in position and once the whistle blows, yunjin jumps upwards, reaching out for the ball. your eyes widen as she basically levitates in the sky for a good five seconds— you didn’t know yunjin could jump so high. even with her height, she was two heads taller than the opposing player. cheers sound out from the stands and you can’t help but shout yunjin’s name.

you watch intently as yunjin dribbles the ball down the court, passing it between her teammates. just as she’s about to finish a layup, the opposing player leaps forward, blocking her attempt. chaewon lets out an undistinguished groan as yunjin scrambles to regain possession of the ball. suddenly, a blurry flash of blue, your school’s team uniform colour, passes by and snatches the ball. kazuha strides all the way to the other side with precision and grace, dodging all the defenders agily.

you remain mum when everyone else cheers for the rookie. within seconds, kazuha jumps, flicking the basketball towards the net. you hold your breath and only exhale when it swoops in. the stands erupt into hoots and hollers. the game continues with back and forths, both teams evening out with their scores despite the early lead. however, the balance doesn’t persist for long, since midway through, just when kazuha is about to score a three pointer, one of the opponents dives in to tackle her. you instantly jump out of your seat, eyes wide with worry as kazuha gets shoved to the floor, a loud thud echoing throughout the gym.

“dude— is she allowed to do that?” you ask chaewon in disbelief. chaewon shakes her head, her face equally full of concern. there’s an outcry of anger from the supporters, booing at the opposing team. kazuha’s still on the ground, her arm twisted unsightly.

“what a bitch!” chaewon yells as the offender smirks at kazuha, strutting away to sit down on a bench while her teammate runs into court. your eyes follow the bright red jersey, the back depicting the name ‘shin’ in bold white font along with the number nine. the foul play earns your team a penalty shot but kazuha’s taken off court to be assessed for injuries.

despite the ongoing game, you can’t take your eyes off kazuha. her limp body, defeated and disappointed, resting against the wall causes sorrow to engulf your heart. you hate how upset she looks. even chaewon’s shrieks and screams can’t distract you. soon, kazuha leaves the gymnasium entirely and you can’t help but want to go after her.

“oh, c’mon yunjin! that was an easy shot!” chaewon shouts, causing the girl mentioned to turn around and glare at her. the ball had rolled off the rim effortlessly and your heart stopped as the score tied once more. it was already in its last quarter and if your team had any hopes of winning, they would need to step up their game. as the seconds ticked by, the chance of victory dwindled and you could see the moral fading away from your team.

yet, out of nowhere, yunjin somehow manages to score a three pointer that flings your team into the lead.

“huh yunjin!” you holler as the stands rise to clap and cheer. chaewon does the same and the game ends with the team lifting yunjin’s lanky body up in the air, seemingly awarding her with the title of mvp. your best friend grins as she shakes the opponent’s hand and you swear she grips number nine’s hand a little tighter. while the team finishes up thanking the opponents, you head down from the stands towards the infirmary, leaving chaewon behind.

the hallway leading to the infirmary feels endless as your legs trudge through. you couldn’t sit still throughout the match but yunjin came first as much as you wanted to check up on kazuha. and anyway things were awkward now— it would make sense for you to remain in the stands.

swinging the doors open, you whip your head left and right, searching for the young japanese girl.

“y/n?” kazuha blurts out. she’s laying on one of the beds, arm wrapped in a cast that’s slung around her shoulder, “d-did we win?”

you want to laugh in disbelief at how kazuha cares more about the match than her broken arm.

“ninety two to eighty nine,” you repeat the scores, sitting down on one of the chairs next to her bed. kazuha frowns, “that’s not a huge difference.”

“no, but at least you won.”

the girl’s shoulders turn slack and she gazes at you with a downcasted expression, “barely. i thought yunjin would be able to pull ahead.”

“she scored the winning shot,” you offer half-heartedly, which at least manages to cheer kazuha up a little. she smiles reluctantly before furrowing her eyebrows at the cast again, “i can’t play for the rest of the season.”

you nod, “of course not.”

“that’s— ugh,” her head falls against the propped pillow, “that’s annoying. i’m gonna miss so much—”

“hey,” you interrupt, “you just have to focus on resting now. don’t think about what you’re missing out on.”

kazuha pouts. she pouts— and it’s maddening the way the sight of an upset kazuha tugs at your heartstrings. how was it possible for someone to have that much control over your emotions?

a moment of silence passes slowly as kazuha’s eyelids flutter shut. she must be tired, you infer. despite the little time she spent on court, the girl suffered a serious injury and required rest. just as you decide to stand up, kazuha’s voice halts your movement.

“why didn’t you come to game night?”

she sounds timid and worried, almost like the kazuha you met at first. you haven’t heard her this anxious in a long time.

“game night?” you repeat, tilting your head.

“y-yeah… on friday… we waited for you,” she trails off, willing herself to stare at the clenched fists bunching up the blanket resting on her lap rather than you.

you’re reminded of the night that you spent with yujin, coming up with different ways and strategies to woo jang wonyoung even though you knew she was too pussy to do anything.

“i was out with my friend,” you explain, “sorry for making you guys wait up.”

kazuha frowns. you hold back from reaching out to relax the furrow between her brows.

“yujin?” she asks, voice strained.

“mhm. do you know her?”

she shakes her head.

“well— yujin does robotics, so you probably never crossed paths before. she’s a good kid though,” you smile fondly, thinking about the girl. kazuha can’t stop herself from glaring at the adoring look in your eyes. you had seemingly brightened up at the mention of your friend and kazuha hates how she feels out of place even though it’s just you and her talking.

this whole situation should be familiar. you’re her roommate’s best friend. she should feel fine and comfortable carrying a conversation with you but she doesn’t.

“i think you guys would get along well,” you say, “she likes playing genshin— don’t you like it too?”

kazuha stuns. how do you know that she plays genshin? out of everything that you had to know about her, liking genshin impact was not one of kazuha’s get to know me facts! you probably thought that she was a loser now! only losers play genshin! she internally wails at the prospect of it.

“hmph… maybe,” she mumbles, the tips of her ears reddening. kazuha’s lucky that her long hair hides her embarrassment. you laugh at her response and kazuha gets that feeling again.

suddenly, your phone rings, indicating a call. you fish your phone out, grimacing at the contact before answering.

“choi y/n!” kazuha hears yunjin’s voice unabashedly shouting. she stifles a laugh as you wince.

“yes?”

“where are you?! we’re meant to be celebrating!”

your voice turns stern and steely (kazuha’s heart stutters in her chest a little), “i’m with your roommate, or did you forget that she got injured?”

“i— kazuha! oh shit, wait for me!”

the moment you end the call, kazuha lets out a giggle. yunjin was just so silly. she can’t think of a better roommate to be honest. even if she has the memory of a goldfish. kazuha has a lot to thank yunjin for, and as she gazes at you, grinning shyly at the reduced tension in the room from yunjin’s mere phone call, she suddenly feels a wave of gratitude.

thank you yunjin for giving her this opportunity to befriend you.

your blooming friendship with kazuha has ascended from mere acquaintances to a contender for yunjin’s best friend spot. the previous icy disposition prevalent had disappeared almost instantly after that basketball game. you spend most of your days on kazuha’s bed, not the living room couch. at first, it was because she had to watch this scary movie, courtesy of a bet made by chaewon, and she couldn’t do it alone. yunjin would be equally useless, so you took up her offer.

unfortunately she didn’t inform you that chaewon’s bet consisted of watching the whole trilogy at night. hence, you were subjected to watching three horror films at midnight. kazuha couldn’t really stay quiet and it wasn’t as if you could tape her mouth shut. so, you decided to help her by giving her your hand to squeeze whenever a jumpscare came on screen.

however, this situation was extremely bad for your heart.

the warmth emitting from her hold was enough to make you blush. not to mention the way her body would cave in, seeking comfort. the mere presence of kazuha made goosebumps rise along your skin.

your heart weeps in disappointment when kazuha’s touch leaves your skin, her hand flying out to cover her eye while her other rests in the cast.

(not because you wanted kazuha to keep touching you! covering her eyes was just a cowardly move! as chaewon’s roommate, you had to ensure that kazuha would adhere to the rules!)

anyway— through this one night, kazuha had somehow managed to get nightmares from the horror movie. you wondered how that was possible when she barely watched it. maybe a little. through the gaps in her fingers perhaps. due to this recurring nightmare that kazuha had, she couldn’t get any sleep at all. the next day you visited her dorm, she looked like a zombie.

hence, your disastrous plan of staying the night with kazuha to make sure she was safe from any ghosts!

it was the foreigner who brought it up at first, all shy and bashful and you couldn’t reject that sheepish expression. but maybe you should’ve, since instead of just being by her side at night, somehow you would end up cuddling. the cuddling wasn’t really bad… it was just that kazuha was handsy. incredibly so. you would wake up in the morning, hair tousled and drool across your cheek, and kazuha’s entire body would be embracing yours, like a koala. you weren’t too sure if the conscious kazuha would even do such a thing and you chalked it up to her sleeping habit.

every morning, you would have to carefully detach yourself from kazuha before heading to class, making sure not to wake the girl up. especially with exams round the corner, she definitely needed her sleep. if you weren’t watching movies, you would be studying. sometimes kazuha moans about music theory, stating that she should have just studied science and other times you grumble about ecology, wishing you took arts instead. eventually, a few weeks after that fateful movie night, kazuha finally got her cast removed and was back to feeling brand new. you had celebrated by watching high school musical and drinking, which was definitely the cause of your killer hangover the next morning.

“zuha! where’s my hoodie?!” you shriek, fighting against your pounding headache and rifling through the piles of laundry stacking up beside kazuha’s bed.

the girl groggily sits up from her sheets, eyes bleary, “huh?”

the sun’s barely out but you have an eight am class to get to and now you can’t find your hoodie! it’s your favourite one too! a black adidas hoodie! and if you don’t bring it to your morning class, you’ll freeze to death in the theatre! the hangover doesn’t help either.

“where is it? i brought it over last time,” you ask, facing the sleepy girl again. kazuha rubs her eyes, frowning, “i think in my closet?”

ignoring the urge to coo at her, you stride towards her closet, searching through. eventually, you do find your hoodie, all the way at the side, shoved in with a bunch of other clothes.

exclaiming in glee, you hurriedly pull it over your head and grab your bag.

“okay, bye zuha! love you!” you blurt out, kissing the top of her head and sprinting out of the dorm despite yunjin yelling for you to stay for breakfast.

it’s only when you reach your class that you realise what you’ve done. sweat dripping down your neck, you collapse in the chair, eyes wide and mouth agape at your own shamelessness.

“oh my god…!” you shriek as loudly as you can, muffled into the thick fabric of your hoodie. yujin slides into the seat next to you, blinking in surprise. you turn to her, distressed.

“are you…” she makes a bunch of vague gestures with her hand, “you look ten seconds away from having a stroke.”

you bury your head into your palms, fingers digging into your hair. yujin makes a noise of indignation.

“yujinnie, prepare my funeral for me.”

“what?!” the younger girl grabs your shoulders, shaking you roughly, “you’re dying?!”

“ugh, no!” you push her away, “i did something stupid.”

yujin stares at you before huffing, “if you’re just gonna sulk—”

“i kissed zuha on the cheek and said love you when i was leaving!” you splutter out. her eyes turn as wide as saucers, lips parting in surprise. “zuha? yunjin’s roommate? since when did you get so chummy with her? are you dating?”

you shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek in humiliation when you recall kazuha’s stunned expression, frozen on the bed.

“so… why’d you…” yujin stutters, “kiss her?”

groaning, you flop back onto the desk, limp with mortification. it’s almost a repeat of the incident when you first met kazuha. somehow, everytime you hung out with her, you would find a way to truly embarrass yourself. but maybe this one triumphs all other times.

“i don’t know! i was really hungover and she just looked super cute after waking up! i think it’s because we spent the night together so we got a little too domesticated… and it was just an instinctive reaction to do that! she was so pretty… and maybe i’m kind of in love with her but that’s not the point!” you whine.

it had never been stated so outrightly before. that your whole heart rested in the palms of kazuha. you had no idea when this crush, or adoration, for her started and it very well could have blossomed the moment kazuha opened that door for you. all you knew was that your love for her was like a tsunami, endless in its barrage. it explained all the feelings you felt for her; from jealousy to affection. she made you feel a whole spectrum. you wanted to know everything about kazuha. her likes, her dislikes, why she chose basketball over dance, why she enjoys video games so much (not as much as sakura though).

“you’re in love with her? girl what.”

“i know! oh my god— how am i gonna face her now?”

yujin guffaws, shoving your limp body away, “you’re such a mess. shut up and focus before you fail this semester. think about this later.”

you nod. yujin was right! you shouldn’t think about this now. it wouldn’t do you any good. currently, all you should think about is the looming examinations that will decide your future.

yet, the thought of kazuha still remains clear in your mind. halfway through the lecture, you nudge yujin’s side, whispering softly, “do you think zuha got uncomfortable with me doing that?”

yujin frowns, pushing her glasses up, “probably a little… unless she likes you back.”

unintentionally, a scoff escapes you. kazuha liking you back? no way. she wouldn’t even touch you with a ten foot pole if it wasn’t for her own comfort. the mere thought was preposterous. how could someone, as sweet as kazuha, as caring as kazuha…

she was the kindest girl you knew. you had forgotten all about the misfortune you faced at the start with her, writing them off as misunderstanding the girl. it was so apparent that kazuha had a heart of gold. and perhaps it was too easy for you to fall for someone like that. someone gentle and loving. maybe the furthest her love for you would be as a friend. you couldn’t assume that her actions were romantic. it would make more sense for them to be platonic.

you cuddle with yunjin too. you kiss chaewon on the cheek as well. you’ve spent nights talking to sakura. nothing about the things you’ve experienced with kazuha was strange or abnormal. well, except for the outrageous heart rate you had during those times.

sometimes when you wake up first, you prepare breakfast for yunjin and kazuha. and most of the time, when you’re flipping pancakes, firm arms wrap around your waist and a giant embraces your back. it would always be kazuha’s face that meets yours when you turn around. her goofy grin as she eyes the pancakes hungrily. you could imagine the ears flapping on those brown locks and the tail wagging excitedly behind her.

almost like an enthusiastic puppy that sees its owner for the first time. kazuha was innocent like that. she deserved a good person to take care of her. one that doesn’t have to contemplate their worth to her. maybe she does like you, but that would be a diabolical decision to make.

you sink further into your chair.

“you good?” yujin asks.

kazuha should not like you back.

“y-yeah. i’m fine.”

it wouldn’t be so bad if she did though.

truth be told, kazuha wasn’t really sure what changed overnight. she just had almost the best sleep of her life and suddenly, it’s the morning and you’re rushing out the door. the lingering warmth of your lips still resides freshly on her cheek and a delicious tingle sends shivers down her entire body as she remembers it so dearly. don’t even get her started on the way her heart had jumped in her throat when you said ‘love you’ to her. it was mystical the way she reacted to such words.

yet, it seemed like you had done a whole one eighty. instead of returning back to her like you should, kazuha never received any indication of you dropping by their dorm. she had eagerly waited for your arrival after your class and you were nowhere to be found. if anyone saw her then, they would immediately state that she looked like a wet dog. kazuha didn’t know what she’d done wrong. only that yunjin was equally bewildered.

“do you think i did something?” kazuha asks again over dinner and yunjin can’t really stand to be exasperated when her roommate stares so sadly at her food, not even eating.

“maybe she’s just in one of those phases again. it’s nearing exam season,” yunjin shrugs even though there’s insecurity in her answer, “she might just be busy.”

kazuha nods and it feels as if she’s trying to convince herself rather than acknowledge yunjin’s words.

“i’ll tell you if i get any news from her though,” yunjin offers and it brightens kazuha up enough for her to finally take a bite of her dinner.

things don’t really change even after a few days. yunjin just has a pitiful expression on her face when kazuha asks again and everything’s starting to look dull. she still has no clue what transpired in this situation. maybe it really was that morning when you kissed her. how could you be the one avoiding her if you kissed her first? kazuha huffs, stomping her feet as she thinks about it. she should really be focusing on her thesis right now but her mind likes to wander and more often than not, the main protagonist in her brain is you.

the fact that you don’t share any subjects together only further wedges a gap between you and kazuha barely spots you in the hallways. based on what chaewon’s told her, you’ve only been staying in your room, even avoiding going to the library or cafes in fear that kazuha might be there! now that was just too over the top. the next time kazuha sees you, she’s going to explode.

additionally, to add to the things that do not quell kazuha’s frustration, you’ve become increasingly close to this yujin girl. kazuha currently has all her friends on lookout, searching for your whereabouts and almost all of them have reported sightings of you with this tall girl with dark shaggy hair and kazuha knows that’s ahn yujin. back when she still had you to cuddle, you would sometimes bring up yujin despite the scowl on kazuha’s face. the mere mention of her name was enough for kazuha’s blood to boil so imagine seeing you with her! when you were meant to be cuddling with kazuha! life was so unfair.

kazuha wants to pull out all her hair when she finally sees you for the first time in weeks and no surprise, yujin’s latched onto your side like a hopeless dog.

(she ignores how she may have, very well, looked the same once.)

she watches pathetically as you stroll by, not even sparing a glance at her and maybe if she listened close enough, she could hear her heart shattering into shards. now kazuha just feels silly. she’s tried everything (no, not really, it’s an exaggeration) for you to notice her but nothing seems to work. maybe she’ll just corner you in your dorm room, where you can’t escape.

at that very moment, a lightbulb flickers on.

kazuha sprints, her long legs striding towards the direction of the dormitories, eyes blazing with a newfound determination.

kazuha [3.14pm]:

pls lock urself in ur room

just for a few hours

chaewon [3.15pm]:

is this about yn?

okie sure~

kazuha [3.15pm]:

thanku (´▽｀)

the moment she reaches your dorm, she’s panting heavily and she needs to rest her body against the hardwood door to catch her breath. no doubt she reached before you and as she knocked, chaewon grimaces at her but still opens it wide enough for her to enter.

“good luck,” is all she says before clicking her bedroom door shut. kazuha has a few minutes to spare, so she takes a good look around your apartment. for the amount of time you spent in hers, she hasn’t done the same. it’s an unfamiliar territory that kazuha has to become well-versed with. a whole wall was filmed with polaroids and pictures, all taken throughout your college life. her eyes fall from one of yunjin to a blurry film photo. it’s a little hazy but the people inside are still clear enough to be identifiable. kazuha knows that’s her. and the person she’s wrapped around is you.

she doesn’t remember this photo being taken but the surroundings are evidently her dorm, so it could only mean that yunjin took the photo. but for you to get it developed… kazuha hasn’t understood the significance of her friendship to you until now. it’s slightly jarring to be frank but a sense of relief settles within her.

her head swings back when the door clicks open.

“oh.”

you stare at kazuha with widened eyes.

“sorry, chaewon unnie let me in.”

you clear your throat, coughing slightly, “ah, yeah. i just… wasn’t expecting for you to be here.”

kazuha cocks an eyebrow at you, “not done avoiding me?”

“uhm, what… haha, no… i wasn’t avoiding you.”

“really?”

you nod stiffly, “yup. just busy. busy with schoolwork. y’know, biomed’s a hard curriculum.”

“of course,” kazuha states, “let’s catch up now then. you have free time, right?”

there’d be no use denying that to kazuha, so you accept your fate by sitting down on the couch. the fabric feels foreign after spending most of your days in yunjin’s dorm.

“so… what’s up?”

“explain why you’ve been avoiding me.”

“i just told you i haven’t…”

the look kazuha gives you says, ‘come on,’ and you sigh, knowing that there wasn’t any way out of this. at best, you would be able to move on without ever speaking of this again, and at worst, you would be thoroughly humiliated. at least it was just the two of you now, so maybe your embarrassment wouldn’t be as bad?

“well, uhm,” you look away from kazuha’s intense gaze, “for starters, i was really embarrassed after that incident in the morning…” your voice trails off awkwardly as kazuha’s eyes light up in recognition.

“why? it wasn’t weird for me.”

“no? it wasn’t?” you ask, surprised. kazuha shakes her head and it gives you the slightest bit of confidence.

you try to keep your voice steady, “okay but other than that, i kind of… i haveamassivecrushonyou.”

“what?! say that again,” she demands, now facing you directly and you shut your eyes, already feeling the tips of your ears heat up rapidly.

“i kind of have a massive crush on you. i’m sorry! if i stayed friends with you it just felt like i was taking advantage and i wouldn’t want to do that to someone i like.”

she doesn’t respond for a few seconds and instantly you think she’s gotten up and left. surely this would be weird for her, right? her roommate’s best friend suddenly saying that she’s been crushing on her— why did you even say that out loud to her?!

when you open your eyes, you find kazuha staring at you with a flabbergasted expression that quickly morphs into exhilaration. she lets out a breathy laugh, one that echoes in your ears endlessly, “i’m so happy.”

“what?” you ask, confused.

she repeats slowly, “i’m so happy.”

“…why?”

kazuha rolls her eyes playfully, “i have a crush on you too. why do you think i said i didn’t mind the kiss? or your profession of love?”

you blush furiously, “that was not a profession of love. more like a slip of the tongue. never going to happen again.”

she shakes her head, a grin gracing her lips, “well, it was really cute.” kazuha leans in close, mockingly poking at your maroon-stained cheeks, “are you flustered? did your heart flutter because of me?”

swatting her hand away, you scoff, “don’t flatter yourself too much.” it’s an incredible contrast of your true feelings.

“i really thought you didn’t like me,” you pout, thinking of all the times kazuha would unintentionally reject you.

the japanese girl winces, “not my best moment but i do like you, if that wasn’t clear enough. so, are we dating now?”

you place your palms against her broad shoulders, pushing her away slightly before she sends you into a heart attack.

“o-okay.”

“hm? what’s that? i didn’t hear you.”

“shut up, zuha.”

“hey, i thought you liked me. why are you being so mean?”

later on, when chaewon finally emerges from her room, she finds two figures cuddled up on the couch, both clinging onto each other. her first instinct is to cringe, and her second is to snap a photo to replace the one currently on the wall.

🎙️ author’s note: not super fond of the ending but it’s literally 3am and i can’t be bothered sorry guys maybe i’ll change it one day but i need to sleep now. hope you enjoyed the fic nonetheless!

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Hallow'seams

A Seams Halloween special oneshot

{ Part IV: Notch | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: A spicy T

Summary: Joel proves to you that he can be adventurous if he wants to be.

Warnings: Joel wears a slutty Halloween costume, fluff, mentions of drinking, spicy thoughts but nothing explicit, no use of Y/N

Word count: 1.7k

Notes: I was so looking forward to writing this Seams Halloween special that I floated back in the summer. Unfortunately, life™ happened - I've had a very rough month and honestly I didn't think I had it in me to do any writing for the rest of this year, but then this happened! I woke up thinking about Joel wearing a Gladiator costume and couldn't put it down. It's not as long or intricate as my original idea, but I hope you enjoy this anyway. I've missed these two so much!

Thank you for sticking with me and giving me so much love, I really don't deserve you all 🧡 Happy Halloween!

Joel pushes open the door to the High Street Outfitters, one booted foot steps over the threshold -

And he stops and stares.

Pumpkins of all sizes, some more crudely carved than others, seem to occupy every conceivable surface. Black cat and broomstick decals adorn the worn wooden walls, while hand-pulled cotton cobweb the ceilings.

When his feet unstick and move into the empty shop, he nearly topples a huge cauldron of what looks like homemade candy. Steadying it with his hands, he mutters under his breath. 'What the f-'

He would never admit it, but he nearly jumps out of his skin when you emerge from the studio with a dramatic flutter of the curtain divider. 'Oh hey, you're here!'

Stepping towards you, he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth in a hello, and gestures. 'You really went all out, hmm?'

Your grin brims with pride, and he feels his lips stretch into an answering smile as you straighten up some of the costumes on a nearby rack.

'We found a Halloween shop nearby a few years back,' you explain. 'All their stock was still in boxes in the store room, so we took everything and ran with it. It's a lot of work every year, but the kids have so much fun with it, it's definitely worth it.'

Joel hums skeptically. 'Not just the kids have fun, from what I heard.'

You cross your arms and play coy. 'What have you heard?'

'That my brother hosts the rowdiest Halloween party in town for the adults every year, and tonight is their last hurrah before the baby comes.'

You chuckle. 'And I'm guessing you fought the costume and lost?'

'There’s no winnin’ when your sister-in-law plays the pregnancy card,' he grumbles with poorly concealed fondness.

You walk him towards the racks near the cashier. 'Here are the men's costumes. We run a pay what you want system for Halloween rentals, just pop your contribution into that pumpkin on the counter. You better hurry though, things start kicking off around seven tonight.'

Joel combs through the outfits half-heartedly, when a standalone clothes rack on the other side of the room, covered with a black sheet, catches his eye. 'And what's that?'

You hesitate, and stutter, 'Oh, um - you won’t like those.'

Arching an eyebrow, he stares down at you. 'Why is that, sweetheart?'

The endearing way you wring your hands and worry your bottom lip brings him right back to when he first met you. Your shyness has always provoked a reaction from him - an understanding at first, from the introvert in him. Then protectiveness, when he started spending time with you.

And now, knowing you the way he does, with you opening up to him over the past few months, he lets his mouth relax into a half-smirk, one hand curling around your waist to pull you into his side as he teases, 'Use your words, Pin.'

You huff, recognising the playfulness in his body language, but you still struggle to get the words out. 'They’re - um, damnit - they're adventurous.'

He sets his face in a mock stern expression. 'And what, I’m too borin' for them?'

Narrowing your eyes at him, which makes him grin, you deadpan, 'It's just - they're not your thing, ok? They're of the -' you pause, and gesture in air quotes. 'Occupational variety.'

Comprehension dawns on him, and he drawls, 'Ah, you mean slutty costumes.'

He can feel your skin heat at his words as you duck your head, and he teases, voice low and gruff by your ear. 'And will you be wearin' somethin' slutty for me tonight, sweetheart?'

Your breath hitches and your lips part, eyes glassy at the turn of the mood. 'Joel -'

He isn't a particularly spiritual man, but the longer he lives, the more he’s convinced that some people are put on earth for a reason.

And Lucy's raison d'etre is to cockblock him at every turn.

The door bursts open with a brash energy that is uniquely hers (with an uncanny resemblance to Ellie's), and your best friend doesn't skip a beat at the sight of the pair of you canoodling. 'Save the making out for later, Miller. We gotta go get ready Pin, c’mon!'

You hastily press a kiss to his whiskered cheek. 'Pick your costume and lock up behind you, ok? I'll see you in a bit.'

Lucy all buts hauls you out of the shop, throwing over her shoulder. 'See ya later, Miller! You better show up half naked!'

Curiosity getting the better of him, Joel pulls back the sheet from the clothes rack, and his eyebrows reach for his softly graying hairline. Leafing through the options, he pauses somewhere in the middle, and smiles to himself.

He’ll show you adventurous.

Maria and Tommy's Halloween party is easily the most anticipated event in the Jackson social calendar. Illicit incentives often swap hands for a RSVP, with those unfortunate enough to be assigned patrol duties on the night willing to pay handsomely for a swap in shifts.

While the kids are knocked out at home from eating their body weight in sugar, the Tipsy Bison is teeming with townsfolk. The normally dark interiors are decked out floor to ceiling in garish black and orange, as if people wouldn't get the memo.

Joel was apprehensive on his arrival, pausing for a moment outside the double doors of the establishment to steel himself. But as soon as he crosses the threshold into the warm and boisterous bar, so loud that his right ear rings, he realises that his worries are completely unwarranted.

No one even bats an eyelid as he wades through the throngs of partygoers, nodding politely at acquaintances who drunkenly shout his name and raise a pitcher in greeting.

It's pure madness - Halloween stopped existing for him twenty years ago. The last time he went to a Halloween party was their neighbour's barbeque. He still remembers the Gryffindor costume he bought Sarah, and how big she smiled swishing around in her robe, casting gibberish spells on her friends all night.

This, however, is a distinctly grownup affair.

When he put on his costume and stood in front of the mirror an hour ago, he could barely look at his own reflection. But now, compared to others in the room, turns out his choice is almost demure.

He only saw Gladiator once when it came out a couple of years before the outbreak, but he liked it, and when he saw the costume on the rack, he picked it out straight away.

The dark red cape sits on his shoulders and drapes across half of his torso - shirtless, of course - baring his right arm. He's a bit self-conscious about the skirt (he's sure there's a name for it but the packaging didn't shed light on this), which sits mid-thigh, fastened by a belt around his waist. He's even wearing the Roman sandals and leather bracelet, and a plastic sword hangs from his belt - the full monty.

The vain side in him thinks he can pull it off, but more importantly -

He wore it for you.

But you're nowhere to be seen, even after he grabs a beer from the counter, having circled the bar twice. Spotting a lone empty chair at a high table, he decides to perch (pulling down his skirt so his boxers don't show) while he has a drink and looks for you.

His keen eyes scan the room methodically. Sexy witches, slutty lumberjacks, misbehaving firemen, naughty nurses - together with the noise, everyone and everything seems to blur into one, and he almost gives up when something familiar crosses his line of sight.

Joel frowns.

Hold up. That toolbelt looks familiar. His eyes narrow as he squints at the worn faded leather.

It is his toolbelt. The toolbelt that disappeared from his garage workshop a couple of days ago that Ellie swears she knows nothing about. That little shit.

Then his gaze pulls back, like a camera zooming out, and he finds that the toolbelt is sitting on the soft swell of a pair of hips, over short denim cut-offs that he's sure he's seen before, and below a red flannel. His red flannel, knotted at the waist, that he knows you sleep in every night.

His chest rumbles with something primal, and he downs the rest of his beer in one big gulp before slamming the empty pint glass on the table and getting onto his feet.

You don’t see him coming, but you know without turning around the moment a pair of strong hands close over your hips in a possessive grip, pulling you towards the bathroom in the back of the bar.

He knocks a breathless laugh out of you when he pushes you up the closed door, the noise of the party muted by the thick timber as you grin up at him, preening at the way his dark gaze rakes over your costume.

A shiver runs down your spine as your own undoubtedly dilated eyes follow the solid outline of his right arm, which flexes as he rests his palm on the door behind you, then down his broad chest and the soft belly he’s so nonchalantly putting on display.

It’s absurd, you know - it’s just a tacky Halloween costume, but the seams of your eyes prickle as you muse how comfortable he is in his own skin.

'And what exactly are you dressed up as?' he asks, sliding his free hand under the toolbelt to squeeze your ass.

'A slutty contractor,' you answer boldly, dragging your index finger down his bare chest. 'Isn't it obvious?'

'And you thought stealin' my toolbelt for your little costume was a good idea?' he growls.

'Well, I didn't know you'd turn up as a gladiator of all things,' you tease, wrapping your fingers around the hilt of his plastic sword.

It should not make his pulse spike like this.

'Not only that, sweetheart. I'm a slutty gladiator, thank you very much,' he retorts, walking into you to slot his hips flush against yours.

You shoot him a loaded smirk that instantly has his boxers shrink by two sizes. Ripping his cape off his shoulders, you ask cheekily, ‘And what does my champion demand as punishment -'

Joel doesn't let you finish your sentence, swallowing the rest of it with a kiss so deep that it steals your voice and takes out your knees in one fell swoop.

Grinning at the way you're already bonelessly slumped against him, he winks, nose brushing yours. 'I can think of a few things, sweetheart.'

Note: Thank you for reading! I had so much fun dipping my toe back into the Seams universe, I hope you did too. This is me warming up with a view of returning to writing for the series proper, fingers crossed sometime soon! Comments/reblogs/asks are very much appreciated as always 🧡

Thank you @firefly-graphics for the adorably spooky dividers!

[kakashixhatakesxwhore]

A Chilly Trip to The Sugar Dealer

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi x f!Reader

Summary: In the middle of the (mild) Konoha Winter, Lord Sixth and his wife go out for a jaunt to the confectionary. Kakashi feels challenged in the small store, and gets you home quick to make a point. Smut! Lemon! Explicit!

W/c: 5.8k

Warnings: Swearing, jealousy, unwanted flirting, teasing, begging, demanding, possessive!Kakashi, oral (f receiving), p in v, cumming inside (lowk, the slightest talk of wombs)

Notes: ive got a sweet-tooth and I feel like kakashi would support me about that idk please enjoy this and lmk how you feel - btw Satō-Shō literally just means Sugar Dealer

Masterlist💿

The sun shone brightly on the two of you, for where else would it shine? Gentle breezes carried the two of you closer, for a chill is always a nice excuse to pull your loved one close. Konoha had never seen such a brisk day, for it was the dead of Winter.

Even on the coolest day of the year, the sun still loved you. It warmed your back, though the large hand of your husband was infinitely warmer. His fingers splayed on the small on your back, reminding you the he would always love you more than the sun ever could.

With an absent smile, you tilted your head up to him. You admired Kakashi, enraptured by the way the sunlight glinted in his hair.

"You're making me nervous," he admited casually without looking at you.

You just chuckled, "The most handsome man in the village should be used to lingering stares."

"No, darling, it's not that," he hummed deeply, curling his fingers around your hip. Kakashi pulled you closer, leaning low to your ear as he whispered, "Nervous to call off our little excursion and hurry back home."

"It's a gorgeous day, today," you beamed, twirling away from his hand, making the skirt of your dress puff out in your spin. Purple fabric swished around your thighs as your husband put him arm back around you, now draped over your shoulders. Bringing his dangling hand to your lips, you pressed a kiss to the side of his pointer finger and teased, "Won't you let me enjoy it, before I enjoy you? Or must I beg for that privilege, too?"

Knees bending slightly, Kakashi's arm weighed down on your shoulders. You smiled, squeezing his hand still in your grasp. With his smooth tone, steeped in licentiousness, your husband groaned, "Let's go home, it's not even that nice out."

"We'll have to agree to disagree, dearest," you tittered, ignoring Kakashi's huffs. Spotting your favourite confectionary around a street corner, your feet steered the two of you right. "If you get me a couple taffies, we can go home."

"I'll get you a kilo later."

"No," you sang, squeezing his hand again. "I want something to suck on now."

As your husband delivered a craven look, you just smiled at him, popping up on your toes to rub your nose against his masked one. With a rumbling chuckle, Kakashi pulled you into his body, causing the two of you to walk in a very strange, haphazard fashion.

"Do you hear yourself, pretty lady?" He asked lowly.

For a second longer, you looked at your husband. His gorgeous Onyx eyes were filled with adoration, and you could see a deep smile stretched across his face through his mask. Tracing your features, Kakashi stared at you lovingly, as if he were almost certain you were but a dream that he never wanted to part with.

"Do you see yourself, Lord Hokage?" You replied.

Biting your lip salaciously, you stared up at your husband through your long eyelashes. His head turned away from you, glancing around the area. The weather was only inviting you to bask in it, as it seemed most everyone else was rightfully in the comfort of their home. A few stragglers milled about, going between markets for essentials, but the streets were relatively empty.

You restored yourself to a proper walking position despite your husband's subtle protests. Only a few more paces and you were at the step of the confectionary, going up to the door as Kakashi stuttered in his movement.

"Give me five minutes, yeah?" He asked nonchalantly, taking his arm away from your shoulders and letting his long fingers trace down your arm, lingering in a hook around your fingers.

Looking at him, you couldn't help but smile back as Kakashi's eyes danced with thought. You grinned, leaning up to kiss his masked cheek, "Four minutes, fifty-nine seconds." You came back to your feet. "Fifty-eight seconds....fifty-seven."

"Fine, shave off a whole minute, if you want to really challenge me," Kakashi snickered before turning to walk in the direction that caught his eye. His pace was frighteningly quick, bordering a run, and you sighed contently as you watched him lock onto his target, a florist's shop.

Suddenly feeling strange for lingering outside of the confectionary for so long, you bit back a smile and opened up the glass door. The old shopkeeper smiled at you sweetly, having seen you standing outside for a minute or so.

"Back again so soon?" He asked kindly.

You nodded, coming further into the store. The fragrance of sugar enveloped you, making your stomach ache for something a sickly red. "Nothing can keep me away from the Satō-Shō."

"Well, have no fear, the Sugar Dealer is here!" He exclaimed with a hearty laugh, coming closer to the counter.

The old man pulled out a wooden crate from behind, setting it right in your eyeline. You approached happily, and the shopkeeper began pulling out a massive bag of caramel drops, making your eyes widen and your mouth salivate. He held it to his nose, and through the plastic, he inhaled.

"Made fresh this morning, they're still soft," he told you with a sigh, waving the bag of sweets around between the two of you. The warm caramel wafted to your nose so tauntingly.

"Have you got any taffy?" You asked hopefully, smelling a fruity tone in the air.

"Have I got taffy? Have I got taffy, in spades!" He laughed, setting the caramels on the counter as he dove back into the crate. Rooting around, he asked, "Is it the saltwater taffy you're after, or the chocolate taffy?"

"Saltwater if you made cherry or that nice, wild watermelon again - otherwise, probably chocolate," you replied cheerily, hearing the crinkles of the bags and soft clacks of not-yet-set hard candies getting thrown around.

Your excitement and anticipation clouded your senses, overwhelmed by the bright colours and mouth-watering smells in the store. Caught in the shopkeeper's presentation, you hadn't even noticed the other person in the shop. Only when the person moseied up the aisle, basket in hand, did you finally notice him. But, from his eye, he had noticed you the second you entered the store.

"You really know your taffy," he chuckled, sidling up to you.

Allowing your smile falter, you looked back at the shopkeeper as he came from the crate with a large, red package in his hand. Gently, you hummed, "No, the Satō-Shō knows taffy. I just buy it from him."

"Touché," the other customer replied. "From the looks of you, you don't eat a lot of taffy, or candy for that matter."

Narrowing your eyes, you turned over what he said in your mind. You felt a bit gross, like you had been looked at in a certain way by someone who shouldn't have been looking in the first place. Besides, you looked like you ate candy, you were sure you did. You didn't know what a candy-eater looked like, per say, but you were sure it would be a picture of yourself in that dictionary.

"Anyway," the shopkeeper interrupted pointedly. Your eyes snapped up to his kind, old face and the ghost of a smile returned to your lips. The old man's eyes twinkled and the corner of his lip curled as he said, "I've got something special for you, my best customer."

"Is it another gobstopper?" You gasped, "No, another one of those massive lollipops? Or is it something new, something experimental? Might I die, just at the sight of it?"

Recieving your waves of excitement, the shopkeeper chortled, "I won't be selling it, because of the special ingredient, but it is a new idea. And maybe you will just die when you try them."

"The mystery is eating me alive," you said very seriously. The shopkeeper smacked the counter lightly before coming around it.

"Alright, give me a minute, it's in the back still."

Stars, you hoped it was something wacky. That lollipop was bigger than your head, and it took you over a week to finish - but the Sugar Dealer could always have a crazier idea. He won't be selling it, which confused you some, but made you feel wildly special. It had you wondering what special ingredient would make a candy unmarkettable. Perhaps it-

"How about, this trip, you let me pay," the man offered, ripping you away from your thoughts. You looked at the dark haired man beside you, who smiled as nicely as he could, rubbing the back of his neck. "It seems you come here a lot. A pretty woman like yourself shouldn't be spending all of her money on sweets."

"I'm sorry."

"I was asking-"

"No, I heard you, I heard you," you mumbled, looking behind him to check for the shopkeeper. "I'm sorry," you repeated more firmly, looking into the man's hazel eyes. "My husband has no taste for conversations like these - I suggest you quit while you're ahead ."

Your warning wasn't enough, as the man shamelessly flirted, "How can I, when put in front of a woman so beautiful?"

"Isn't she just the prettiest lady in all the Land?"

Oh, thank you, Stars.

Turning the other way, there Kakashi was standing, a single rose in hand. You smiled up at him gratefully as he put the rose into your fingers and his arm around your waist, pulling you as close to him as you knew you needed to be. The rose in your hand was perfect, without the one blemish or tear anywhere in the petals.

"One flower? Couldn't have sprung for a bouquet?" The dark haired man quipped dryly.

Before Kakashi could say something harsh, you just hummed, holding the flower to your nose and putting your free hand over the hand of your husband as it clutched your waist posessively, "It's rare that a man can appreciate the value of one perfect rose."

"Here we go!" The shopkeeper exclaimed, hurrying out of the back. When he returned to the counter, his eyes immediately landed on Kakashi, morphing his cheery expression to shock as he bowed. Hurriedly, he said, "Lord Sixth! I didn't know I would be graced with your presence in my meager, little shop."

"My wife loves this place dearly, I would never call it meager," Kakashi replied politely. He took a deep breath, eyes darting to the man who stood on your other side, mortified.

Flirting with the Hokage's wife was a massive issue, it was just lucky that Kakashi's mind wasn't terribly dark that day.

Waving off the praise of his store from the Hokage, the shopkeeper set a bag of light brown taffies on the counter. Drawing forward, you ooh'd, which diffused a grand amount of tension in the store. The Sugar Dealer's special something turned out to bless you before you even had the one.

"Why don't you want to sell these?" You asked, looking at the bag from a couple different angles.

The shopkeeper chuckled, "It's Amaretto taffy. I can't let a child experience the bliss of Amaretto so early on."

Eyes the size of dinner plates, you pulled out your wallet immediately. You riffled through the bills, collecting a thousand yen at least.

"Keep your m- Lord Hokage, please, I don't-"

"Don't set that precedent," Kakashi remarked deeply as he set two thousand yen on the counter. You threw a few hundred extra down, knowing you owed that shopkeeper so much more from all of his free samples and special somethings.

"I cannot accept your money," he insisted, going to pick up the bills to hand them back.

Plucking the bags of cherry taffy and Amaretto taffy into his free hand, Kakashi just laughed, beginning to steer the two of you away, "Seriously, Satō-Shō, she'll come back here and clean you out."

Nodding in agreement, you waved goodbye to the shopkeeper while pressing the soft rose petals to your cheek. You didn't spare the dark haired man a glance as you turned forward, leaning into your husband's large body. Warmth radiated from him, even more noticably when the two of you stepped back outside.

"What am I going to do with you?" Kakashi asked in a sigh, mainly directed toward himself as his hand drifted from your waist, up your spine.

Brow furrowed, you joked, "You can start by giving me one of the Amarettos."

"Would you have let him buy these for you?"

It was a stupid question, you both knew it, but Kakashi always worried. Worried about everything, but nothing made him as anxious as a potential threat to the sanctity of your relationship.

"You would turn down free candy?"

His expression darkened as he hooked his arm over your shoulders. You bit the inside of your cheek, looking up at his gorgeous face with the halo of cloud. Slowly, he said, "You should be."

"Oh, my dearest, so green with envy," you hummed, holding the hand that rested over your shoulders again. You kissed the back of his hand, promising, "I only jest. I knew you would come to my rescue. My pretty boy always swoops in the save the day."

"Fuckin' right I do," he huffed, pulling you into an alley.

In an instant, his mask was down and his lips were on yours, moving assertively. Like a wire becoming live in your stomach, you could feel electric shocks throughout your body, going all the way down to your fingertips.

Stealing a kiss in a darkened alleyway was so juvenile. It reminded you of all the times the two of you had been in this situation before, especially before you were wed. Not often was the reason for these desirous kisses another man, but the subject had been raised before.

"You're mine, all mine," he snapped, the vibrations of his baritone voice sending ripples against your lips. You let a whimper pass through you as you gaze at your husband's bare face. You leaned forward to kiss your husband again, but he pulled away gently, pressing you against the brickwall of the alley. Looking at you with cloudy eyes, Kakashi purred, "Tell me. Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours, Kakashi, I'm entirely yours- until the end of time," you replied breathily. Eyes scanning your face, Kakashi apparently decided your words sincere as he came forward again to press his soft lips to yours.

He tasted so divine, you couldn't help but moan softly. His tongue slipped past your lips slyly, making a pool form in your stomach. As Kakashi's tongue swirled around yours, the two of you were locked in a dance. A duet, that you and your husband had perfected over the years. You whispered a complaint when Kakashi takes a breath, but it falls on deaf ears.

"Not here," he growls while pulling the fabric back over his face, snatching your hand up quickly. Through the mask, Kakashi places a chaste kiss to your forehead before swiftly pulling you out of the alley. Hushed and hurried as he barreled the two of you down the street at a blistering pace, Kakashi promised, "I'm going to have you screaming those words all night long, my pretty lady."

Supressing the squeal that bubbled up from the pit of heat in your stomach, you happily scurried along as Kakashi led the way to the Red House under Hokage Rock. It was a darling place to live, and you enjoyed decorating it, but even just the residence wing was huge - you almost preferred the apartment you and Kakashi had before he became the Hokage. But, anywhere was the perfect place to live, so long as you were living with Kakashi.

In half the time it took the two of you to get to the confectionary, you were home. Not wasting a second, Kakashi threw the bags of taffy onto the console table in the foyer, immediately putting both of his hands on your hips to pull you in. You hadn't even caught when he pulled down his mask again. But, with his speed, Kakashi caught the single rose between your two bodies and you yelped, holding the flower high.

"You took all four of your minutes to pick out the perfect rose, be gentle with her," you chided, inspecting the slight dents on either side of the rose's bulb.

"I'll be gentle with her," your husband replied, plucking the flower from your fingers.

Gingerly, Kakashi placed it on the console table, just on top of the taffy bags. He turned back to you, eyes darkened a shade further, and he replaced his hand to your hip. Kakashi snapped your body to his with a chuckle, making you gasp. His gorgeous, pillowy lips were all you could focus on, taken by the flushes of self-inflicted bite marks that dotted the center of his mouth.

Muting any remark from you, Kakashi began kissing you again. This time, in the comfort of privacy, his lips were enflamed with passion and desperation - the two ingredients mixed so deliciously to deliver you a kiss that made your knees weak. Kakashi wrapped his thick forearm around your lower back, allowing you to lean on him. As you did so, his other hand travelled lower, squeezing the plump flesh of your ass before nudging you to jump. You do, and Kakashi caught you firmly, one hand squeezing beneath your thigh while the other remained to support your back. The jump gives you the friction both of you crave, but doesn't satiate further.

Pressing you against the growing tent of his pants, Kakashi whispered, "There's my good girl."

"Am I not always your good girl?" You whined against his lips, letting your left hand rest on the back of Kakashi's neck while the other pressed on the ample muscle of his chest.

Peppering your jaw with kisses and nips, Kakashi shook his head and began to walk you down the hallway to your bedroom. The ache within you grew, upset at his lack of validation. You had tried your best to ignore and warn the man from the confectionary, and yet he was the reason Kakashi wasn't giving you what you wanted.

"Kakashi, please, kiss me," you begged as he pushed the door to your bedroom open with your back. Your husband continued pressing warm, sloppy kisses to the angle of your jaw, laying you down amongst the linen bedsheets. Feeling so criminally empty, you pleaded, "Please, kiss me- my lips... let me show you I'm your good girl."

"You'll only get my lips on yours after you've proved yourself," Kakashi hummed, adding a modest suckle right on the sweet spot under your ear.

You could've melted beneath your husband, but the nagging knot of nerves in your abdomen kept you intact, barely. Clenching around nothing as Kakashi slid his leg between your thighs, you let a shaky breath fall from your lips. Kakashi's head perked up from your neck, looking at your face amusedly.

"What are you supposed to do when another man starts flirting with you?"

You shrug, feeling like you did as much as you could have without being rude. You threw your head back into the sea of white linen and replied, "I dunno. Wait for you, like I always do?"

"You do know, pretty lady." You freeze as Kakashi's right hand floated to your thinly clothed cunt. Drifting his finger over the fabric that covered your slit, you sucked in a moan and Kakashi hummed, "You know, and once you give me the right answer, I'll give you what you want." A stifled scream passes through your pursed lips as his lithe fingers graze your sensitive clit. He repeated, "What are you supposed to do when another man flirts with you?"

"Talk about you," you answered, bucking your hips against your husband's hand and thigh.

"And...?"

With a small amount of pressure, Kakashi's middle finger began laying small circles onto your clit. You gasped, "Tell him... tell him h-how frightening you are... when you're mad."

"No," Kakashi snipped, taking his hand and leg away, making your thighs snap shut. He corrects you, voice filled with a dire intonation, "You tell him I'll kill him."

"Kakashi-"

"If another man ever comes so close to you, tell him his body will be found in five different places."

Despite how sharp his words were, you could feel wetness pooling in your panties. Kakashi's eyes were so serious, and there wasn't a hint of humour in his tone. Just fanning the flames of your arousal, Kakashi still did nothing to quench the heat that devoured every nerve in your body.

"I will," you swore, trying to look as sterling as possible.

Kakashi hummed, slowly letting his left hand slide down the inside of your thigh. You went to squeeze your knees together, but Kakashi immediately separated them with either hand. With a shake of his head, Kakashi slotted himself between your legs again, his massive length straining against the black fabric of his trousers as he rubbed against the sopping cloth of your underwear.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he sighed, hanging his head. Then Kakashi looked up at you, the corner of his mouth twitching so hungrily. "I do believe, me having saved you falls under the you-owing-me-one category." You nodded quickly, swallowing the excess spit in your mouth. Kakashi smirked so cruelly, "Look at you, my pretty lady - so eager to please."

"Eager to please you," you affirmed, making Kakashi groan your name as he leaned down to finally give you a proper kiss.

Rutting your hips up, you ground against the twitching bulge in your husband's pants, getting ready to pull turn yourself around. You weren't in a terribly good position to suck Kakashi's cock - he greatly preferred it when you hung your head over the edge of the bed, opening up your throat so perfectly for him to slide down. You could never fit more than half of his length before he was hitting the back of your throat, but if your head was over the edge of the-

It didn't matter. Kakashi moved before you could, slowly moving away from your mouth and down to your jaw. Holding you down slightly, he interspersed your soft neck with gentle sucks and bites, sure to show up as a million love bites the next day.

You had plenty of turtlenecked shirts for the such occasions, but you still found yourself pulling down the neck at various parts of the days you wore them, bragging to each and every one of your friends. They always demanded such lewd details, and you were much obliged to offer up every juicy facet, if only in a private setting. All of them were jealous, so fucking jealous of you, and this was why.

Trailing down to the valley of your chest, Kakashi groaned deeply as his left hand massaged the flesh of your right tit through the fabric of your bra, kneading and squeezing so strongly it elicited a shaky thrum from you. While his hand went up to your shoulder, Kakashi pressed a myriad wet, lingering kisses to the exposed skin of your bust. He pushed the short sleeves of your dress and the strap of your bra off of your shoulder, doing the same to the other side, before Kakashi began tugging the purple dress off of your body entirely. Hastily, he pulled his two top layers off as one, throwing them to the ground with your dress.

"Now who's eager?" You teased as he thumbed the waistband of his trousers.

Feeling a breeze with how quick he is, Kakashi's fingers were nearly sinking into you through your panties. You inhaled sharply as he replied adamantly, "Me. I'm eager."

He would always admit it, quite happily too; Kakashi loved your cunt, in any way he could have you.

Battling his urges, Kakashi was much slower to pull your cotton underwear off than he was with your dress, seeming to greatly enjoy watching strands of your slick pull away with the fabric. He groaned lowly, flicking the soaked cotton to some corner of the room. Cold air flushed against your flaming core, making you clench at the contrast. Slowly, Kakashi lowered to his knees, face to face with your already moistened pussy, and he smiled as you threw your legs around his shoulders.

"Tell me what you want," he commanded lowly, hot breath fanning over your folds.

You swallowed thickly and answered, "I want you, Kakashi, how-ever you wish to have me."

"Fuck, I love you," Kakashi groaned, leaning forward to lick a stripe up your slit. You can see your white and translucent slick on his tongue as he hummed, "You taste so good for me, darling. All that candy, it makes you sweet."

"I love you," you whimpered breathlessly as Kakashi's tongue licked another stripe, entering your folds to get as much of your wetness as he could on his tongue. He swallowed it up, humming to himself lowly before capturing your clit between his lips in a soft suckle. Instantly, you're throwing his headband away and letting your fingers find purchase in your husband's silver tresses. "Stars almighty, Kakashi."

"Mm. That's right, say my name."

Without question, you give in, your husband's name becoming like a prayer as he lapped at your pussy. His tongue swirled around your clit as his long fingers danced around your inner-thigh. The tickle made you shiver, which only seemed to make Kakashi hungrier. Bringing his fingers to your folds, your husband began teasing your entrance with his calloused pads.

Looking down at him, you let out a heavy moan that was felt even in your cunt. Kakashi's eyes were half-lidded as he locked them with yours, and you could recognize how ablaze with desire they were.

"I'm all yours, K-kashi, please," you bit out, starting to feel a whirl in your mind. The fog began to lift, and you could see the light of an orgasm at the end of the tunnel. You ran toward it, calling out Kakashi's name until-

Cold air hits your folds, making you shutter your eyes open. You didn't remember closing them. Looking down to your husband, still with your legs over his shoulders, you babbled a plea, only to be met with another cold blow from Kakashi's very own lips. You whined loudly, throwing your head back into the sheets.

"Where's my good girl gone?" Kakashi wondered aloud in a light tone. He slid down his trousers, lazily pumping his impressive length. Even after so many years, so many encounters, Kakashi's cock always made your lip quiver. As you stared, entranced, he came up your body, slowly pressing your legs up to your chest, and made eye contact with you.

The way Kakashi looked down at you... it almost brought you to tears. Tears of elation, of disbelief, even after all this time. His expression was of playful adoration, of the man you had fallen in love with most ardently so many years ago. But his eyes - they screamed of a dark desire, thousands of thoughts flitting behind his charcoal irises. The uncomfortable nagging of your denied release faded as your heart swelled five sized too big.

Sliding the leaking tip of his cock through your folds, Kakashi lowly chuckled as you squirmed, "I asked you a question, pretty lady."

"You'll just have to ask me again - your eyes are far too distracting," you purred, trying to sound as sultry as you could.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, darling."

Despite his candied tone, Kakashi slapped the tip of his cock against your clit. The jolt made you stutter away, but Kakashi pulled you back with both hands clamped on your hips, before leaning down to hook around your back and remove your bra.

As he threw the plunged bra aside, he murmured, "Be good. Don't you want my cock? Or... would you prefer-"

"I'll be good! I'm good!" You wailed, dragging your slicked folds over your husband's girth. "I want your cock so fucking bad, Kakashi, please, please- I want you, please-"

"Not very good of you, interrupting me," Kakashi mumbled under his breath, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock to line himself up with your velvety entrance. He sighed as the tip of his dick spilled into your warmth, "Oh, but who am I to deny my pretty lady?"

Inch by inch, Kakashi squeezed into you, filling you beyond your wildest imagination. You whimpered, calling out his name as your nails dug into his muscular thighs. No corner of your mind could capture how stuffed-full Kakashi made you feel, it was something you were blown away by every night.

"Fuck- yeah, just a bit more- fuck, you're taking me so well, pretty, pretty, pretty lady," Kakashi groaned lowly as he sank into your warmth, your wetness squelching with the vacuum seal. His hand cupped your cheek, so warm that you couldn't help but lean into his touch as his fingers curled under your jaw. He bottomed out, giving you a second to adjust, cooing, "Such a good girl for me. This pretty pussy's mine, mine alone."

"All yours," you gasped in a squeak. Kakashi groaned, rocking his hips against you. He reached so deep inside of you, you could feel him just below your belly button. You hissed, gripping his thighs, "Kakashi- fuck- you're so- fucking big."

"Mm, and you take everything I give you." Oh, how true the statement was. But your agreement melded to a guttural groan the second Kakashi started moving.

Finally beginning a slow pace of deep strokes, your eyelashes fluttered. Soft moans accompanied every breath as Kakashi started pulling more out, making you feel even more full with every thrust. The sounds of your cunt squelching to accommodate his rapidity fill the room, undercut by the soft slapping of skin.

Putting more pressure on the backs of your knees, Kakashi pushed your legs deeper into your chest. He fucked into you so lovingly that you could see the passion emanating from his body, making all of your muscles simultaneously tense and relax. In a stutter, Kakashi put his left hand on the bed, beside your head, while the other travelled lower to grip your ass. His entire body came closer to you, deepening his movements that much more. Breaths mixing between the two of you, a humidity arose in the room, with a very particular scent.

Enthralled by the sight of his cock disappearing within you, Kakashi's head was tilted slightly down. A stupid smile plastered on your face as you choked back a moan and kissed Kakashi's forehead. His eyes immediately found yours and his hips snapped into yours.

Leaning to connect his lips with yours, Kakashi quickened his pace, swallowing every wanton sound that came from your lips. His tongue Waltzed with yours, leading you in a lovely dance. You reached up, moving one hand over your husband's gorgeously chiseled face as the other squeezed the plump muscles of his shoulder. For a moment, Kakashi let you really get used to his pace, allowing your orgasm to climb to the forefront of your mind once again.

As you climbed the mountain, your walls clenched around your husband's dick, sucking him in further, ushering his precum into your womb. Right on the edge of bliss, your body twitched around, moans becoming more and more obscene.

"Maybe I should stop right now," he groaned, slowing his thrusts painfully.

Vehemently shaking your head, your eyes flew open. "No, K'kashi, no, ple-ase, I was s'close, please, you feel so- so good."

"Tch, how can I deny such a good, beautiful girl?" Kakashi tittered, gradually going back to his original speed. As you sank back in, he pulled you out, asserting firmly, "Look at me when you cum on my dick."

"Kakashi-i-i-" You moaned for a prolonged time, eyes fighting to stay open. Your husband's lip was curled into a darling smile, and the thoughts behind his eyes finally settled. A wide smile stretched across your lips, mouth falling open as you could feel Kakashi's eyes caressing your very soul.

When his hand ghosted around your thigh and intuitively found your clit, shockwaves were sent through your entire body. Just a few beats behind the tempo of Kakashi's thrusts, his middle and ring finger whirled the sensitive bundle of nerves. In only a few more thrusts, you're screaming Kakashi's name as he finally gives you the sweet release.

"Fuckin' stars," he gasped, stilling in your cunt as your walls fluttered and spasmed. "You're s'fuckin' tight, so fucking beautiful."

Smiling up at him, Kakashi pressed another hungry kiss to your lips, before pulling back entirely. He gripped your hips and began snapping into you with more force than he had before.

"Kakashi! Fuck!" You yelled out, hands left to grip his thighs again. Digging your nails into the back of his thighs only seemed to give your husband more vigour. You gasped, "Fucking sensitive, Kakashi, stars-"

"I'm the only one who gets to fuck you like this," he groaned, bottoming out with every thrust. His timing grew uneven, and his strokes got messy, telling you he was nearing his light too. "Such a good girl f'me. Me. Only me."

"I love your cock," you whined, feeling blood rushing to your head, a slight spin percolating.

"M-my perfect wife, fuck- I'm gonna cum, pretty girl." Pulling your flushed body up, Kakashi took you in his arms as he fucked into you, delivering his last few plunging strokes, before he stuttered entirely. He groaned so deeply, you could feel the vibration in his cock, pressed against your cervix, "I fuckin' love fillin' you up."

A heat trickled into you, making you smile as Kakashi thrusted into you a few more times at a relatively lazy rhythm, bringing you a swell of relief. Your husband's cock twitched within you, filling you more and more. With a contented breath, you clenched around him, beckoning his cum further into you.

Bringing you up for another kiss, Kakashi hummed against your lips as he stilled, keeping all of his spend nice and secure within you. He took you up fully, then turned and fell back into the bed. The position had you sinking onto his cock so deliciously as you leaned against his chest.

"I love you, more than anything," you murmured as Kakashi's eyes roamed your face.

A small smile tugged at his lip, bestowing you with a dashing look. "I love you too, pretty lady."

"So, what's your verdict?" You asked with a soft chuckle and a tired undercut.

"What's my what, darling?" He asked, voice slightly rasped.

Reaching to your face, he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear lovingly, which had you biting down on your lower lip. Kakashi's eyes danced over your puffy lips, smile deepening on both of your faces as you laughed,

"Can I have an Amaretto taffy now?"

[seobslatina]

open wide! >__<

pairing ; jongseob x fem! reader

warnings ; smut !!! in public, spitting, skater seob (screams into pillow), edging, choking, gagging, seobs kinda mean at the end oops, & nothing else i could notice c:

notes ; lowercase intended, im no skater erm ..., ive never written smut like this before so be weary (so soz...) feedback is nice!! i know the pacing is probs weird but o well ^__^ anyways i need him bad

"open your pretty mouth for me, yeah?"

those were the only real words your dizzy brain could understand as jongseob pounded into you at the skatepark bench.

seob and you hadn't been able to hangout for a while, and he thought "what better way to spend time with my sweet girl then her watch me show off at the skate park?" and he did exactly that. you watch him walk up to you, fangs on display as he smiles so sweetly, but that white compression shirt. the specific one that had you clenching your thighs when he sent you the picture on the day he bought it.

"hey angelface" seob says, snapping you out of your trance. he opens his arms, enveloping you in his embrace. lean torso pushed against yours, strong arms around you, contoured back feeling just so right in your hands ..

"y/n, baby, i'm talking' to you" he laughs out, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. "what's got my girl so distracted hm?" he asks, pulling away, popping the board into one hand, other in his sweatpant pocket.

"oh it's nothing seob, truly" awkward smile on your face as you fidget with the hem of your top. "liar." he points out immediately. "cmon, talk to me, pretty girl" he hums oh so convincingly, hand from his pocket coming up and brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face.

"i just ... ithinkyoulookreallygoodinthatshirt" you blurt out embarrassingly fast. "oh, well of that was it babe that's all you had to– oh ..." he stops himself, admiring his outfit when he noticed his shirt. "you think i look good?" he hums, stepping closer to you. you nod, because duh

but that's not enough for jongseob oh no ..

"words, angel" his voice soft, but tone almost condescending in a way, like you knew better.

"i think you look good..." you say as jongseob drops his board, hands snaking around your waist. "i missed you" you add, hands moving to his shoulders. "i know pretty.. let me make it up to you?"

and with that, the sun setting, everyone being gone and some more of jongseob's smooth talking, you were now laid on the skatepark bench, fat cock stretching your pretty cunny with ease.

"s-seobie, please!!!" but you're not even sure what you're pleading for. jongseob's pace is relentless, mushroom tip kissing your cervix so nicely, bruising grip on your hips as his fat cock stretches you. "you're being too loud y/n .. you want the street to know how much of a slut you are?" he huffs out, hips becoming sloppy as he shoves two of his slender fingers into your mouth, gagging at the unexpected feeling. you look at him, his eyebrow piercing shining from the streetlights and he huffs and groans. the way his compression shirt hugs his frame, riding up the slightest bit, blonde hairs sticking to his forehead, three knuckles deep into your mouth.

"but you're my slut aren't you? my sweet sweet slut .." he grunts out, pace never letting up. "this pretty pussy is so good t'me".. you squeeze around him, whimpering on his fingers before he slides them out, spit string connecting you both before he quickly moves them to your puffy clit. "open that pretty mouth for me, yeah?" he huffs out, gathering spit in his mouth. you open, tongue lolling out before feeling a glob land on your tongue, whining at the feeling.

"go on, swallow it" he huffs, before going even harder than before, if that was possible. you feel so good, so unbelievably full and so close ...

"seob!!! i-i think 'm gonna–" but before you can even finish your sentence, seob slides out, tucking himself in his pants. "jongseob what the fu–" before he lightly slaps your inner thigh, making you whine in response. he slides your panties back up, the slick and mess all sticking uncomfortably against you.

"need to hear you, can't stand having to keep my angel quiet"

and with that, you both quickly make your way to seobs apartment.