#Juice x GN!Reader

[garbinge]

JUICE + SHY GN!READER HEADCANON

First ever headcanon, and this really pushed me out of my comfort zone! Juice is a character that I'm still learning and shy characters are always a little tough for me in these universes. Honestly would love anyone else to drop in any additional thoughts because this one really got me thinking through so many scenarios on how things would play out with these two :) Headcanon is under the cut!

FIRST MEETING: 

Juice isn’t exactly the most outspoken or outgoing either, so the process from meeting you to dating you takes time. Slow burn for suuuuuure. 

I think it’d start out with Juice being more shy than the reader for sure but your shyness is what draws him to you. You’re also not exactly jumping out of your seat to talk to him either, but to you, you’re just ignoring him while Juice is being shy to you. 

You’re the opposite of his life right now. The club is rowdy and chaotic and you were calm and observant. 

There’s tons of stolen glances whenever he gets the chance when you’re around. His eyes jump away in seconds the minute you catch him looking at you. Whether it’s peeking over his laptop, or fully staring at you when he catches you downtown. 

Those glances would eventually turn to awkward smiles, the occasional wave or head nod.

When he gets the nerve to actually come and talk to you, there’s a lot of fumbling on his words until he realizes you’re just as nervous as him and it somehow makes him feel a little less nervous.

Just enough that in some fiddly way he manages to ask you out and you agree. 

The first date is a lot of him asking you questions because you’re still very reserved. A lot of what are your favorite things; food, movies, places to go, where  do you work, do you like it. Just trying to learn more about you.

He goes off on a lot of tangents about tech, it’s what he knows and loves so it just comes easy to him. You take it all in, every word, picking up on the details in what he’s saying and what he’s not. 

You definitely bring things up that he’s said earlier and it drives him mad. Someone who pays attention to the things he’s saying? That’s new. 

Somewhere along the conversation you mentioned something about your car and he eagerly offered to fix it for you at TM which ultimately solidified your second date. 

It’s obvious you’re a fish out of water at Teller-Morrow. Your voice is comparable to a mouse in comparison to all the guys, club and mechanics combined. 

While trying to explain to Chucky and then Piney that one of the guys said they could help you out, Juice appears with the biggest grin on his face when he sees you and offers you an energetic “hey” and it completely melts you. 

You sit next to him while he tinkers with your car, him mostly taking up a lot of the conversation but you’re chiming in here or there a little bit more than on the first date. Everything around you kind of fades away in those moments, you’re just enjoying the time passing with Juice. 

When you get home that night, you break something else on your car, purposely, so you can bring it back the next day. Too nervous to just ask him to hang out on your own. 

After he catches on, you’ve brought your car in 3 times in one week,  he decides to blurt it out. Do you wanna be my girlfriend? And he’s immediately mortified by the prepubescent way of asking you to be his but in your eyes it's perfect. It’s direct and leaves no room for misinterpretation. BEGINNING OF YOUR RELATIONSHIP: 

Then, things are a bit different once your relationship is a bit more established. You both geek out together, and you feel a bit more comfortable coming out of your shell around him. 

He definitely becomes protective over you, knowing how fragile he can be because of his sensitive side and how people are eager to take advantage of that, the thought that someone could be like that with you makes him want to follow you around like a guard dog. 

He's constantly stare at you, lovingly + adoring but also curiously, just picking up on the things you do and why. But now, instead of looking away when you catch his eyes, he just smiles, maybe lightly touches your face, places a soft kiss on your lips, still smiling through each interaction.

But the real kicker is when he tells you he wants you to come hang out at the clubhouse and meet the guys. 

Now, he’s not an idiot, he knows that they can be a lot and you aren’t a very extroverted person, but he reassures you a lot that they’ll love you and you’ll have a good time. He also lets you know he’d never let anything happen to you. And once the guys meet you, neither will they.

When you show up, you’re feeling exactly how you felt when you first met Juice. Flighty eyes, absorbing the environment, taking in everything. 

The commotion of the group by the pool table and then the group by the bar was starting to make your stomach turn. 

Juice spots you immediately and is by your side within seconds and never leaves it. One, because he wants to keep his word of being there and two, he feels so happy just to have you here with his family. 

The guys tease Juice more than they tease you, and when anyone gets a little too pushy before you’re able to even feel uncomfortable Juice is handling it. 

OVER TIME: 

I think he’d be able to anticipate your needs and vice versa. 

When he comes home from a rough day, you’re there to pick up the pieces and he lets you. 

There’s toons of physical affection behind closed doors. Cuddling, all types of kisses, very sweet and passionate love. 

In public and in front of the club, it’s not as prominent but there’s definitely arms wrapped around you, sitting in between his legs, casual pecks on the cheek and fingers intertwined. 

He’d also trust your opinion on things because when you are at the clubhouse you’re not looking to fuck-around. You’re taking in everything and it gives you a really unique perspective on situations. 

He’d take you on so many long rides and road trips because he knows the quiet of the rides are your favorite.

He’d leave breakfast for you when he had early mornings and you’d leave dinner for him on those late night runs. 

Juice would use his skills to make your life easier, just like when you first met. Fixing your car, your computer, making sure you were upgrading all your software, getting you things that you didn’t even realized existed that just made every aspect of your life easier. 

Ultimately, I think a shy partner is exactly what Juice needs, someone who understands him, and is patient with him. They both would be able to respect and love each other because they see each other. There's so much understanding because they get one another, their quirks, their preferences, their mannerisms.

Dividers by @cafekitsune ❤ // Requested by anon ❤ 💀SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989  (Let me know if you’d like to be added!)

[beesonhoneytoast]

“I’m hopeless without you.”

♡ Mike Schmidt x GN!Reader ♡

synopsis: on his day off, mike hears that you were involved in some freak accident at work. he wastes no time in getting dressed and driving to your workplace. however, when he calls you, something bizarre happens. cws: hurt/comfort, established relationship, mike being a narcoleptic mess and a disaster pansexual (?), crying, confusing dreams for reality

~800 words | divider creds @firefly-graphics

Mike runs out into the living room, putting on his shirt as he rushed out of his bedroom.

Abby is lying on her stomach watching cartoons but turns her head at the sound of her big brother shuffling around and panting. “Mike?” She called for him.

“Y/n was involved in an accident. I don’t have time to call anyone to watch you, so get your shoes on. We’re going to find them.” He explained, hopping on one foot as he put his shoes on. He grabbed the keys as Abby slipped her little Mary Janes on. 

The two Schmidts went outside and Abby rushed to the backseat on the passenger side of Mike’s car. 

Mike got the front door of the house locked after a moment (as trying to do anything with trembling hands is understandably very difficult). Mike slammed on the gas after hurriedly backing out of the driveway, and he pulled out his flip-phone, selected your number on it, and put it to his ear. Every time, however, he was sent to voicemail. He left a message every time he was. 

“Y/n, it's me, Mike.” 

“If you're alive, Y/n, please reach out if you can.” 

“Please Y/n, I- I'm hopeless without you.” 

“Okay. The third time wasn't the charm, neither was the fourth. Maybe the fifth time will be the one? I dunno. I have no idea if or when you'll hear this, but... Ever since I've known you, I've felt... So at home. You're the only person I know who seems to care about me, and- I… I can't lose you. Please.” Mike said into the phone.

“Mike?” Your voice came from the receiver, laughing slightly.

Mike’s heart nearly leaped out of his ribcage. “Y/N?!” He shouted. He was so alarmed because your voice sounded perfectly okay. “This- isn't some sort of prank, right?” He whispered in denial. 

Your airy chuckles came crackling over the phone. “Mike, I'm okay. I'm at work. I just went on break and saw you were sending me like, three or four voicemails. Is everything okay?” You asked him seriously now.

Mike pulled over on the side of the street and teared up in disbelief. He ran a hand through his hair after putting the car in Park. 

Abby was very confused by this entire situation. She was looking out the windows with her brows scrunched. “What's going on, Mike?” She asked. 

“Ah, I hear a certain little girl is there with you?” You teased. 

“Yeah, uh…” Mike mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “Listen, I- I have no idea what happened. I just heard you were in danger and I panicked and didn't think things through and-” 

“Oh, Mike. I'm coming over to you. Are you out of the house already?” You asked.

“I'm… right next to your work building, actually.” Mike chuckled breathily. 

“Ah, I see. I'll be right out, okay?” You told him. 

“M’kay.” He muttered, sniffling slightly, causing you to frown. 

“I’ll see you outside.” You said before hanging up. 

Mike pulled into a parking spot in front of your workplace and you walked right out the front door and trotted towards his car. He couldn't believe it. 

There you were, perfectly fine and alive. You got in on the passenger side of the car. “Hi, Mike.” You greeted him softly. 

And just like that, the man crumbled, and tears spilled. He hid his face in his hands and his shoulders shook with each sob. 

“Oh, come here, buddy.” You cooed, unbuckling his seatbelt and hugging him over the console between the both of your seats. You pet his messy hair softly. Clearly, he had been in a rush to get here to you, for he didn't have the time to brush his hair and get himself tidy. “It's okay. I'm here, I'm okay, I'm alive.” You whispered reassuringly, holding him to your chest as best as you could in this awkward setting of the front seats in his car. 

Eventually, you had all gotten home and you made dinner, as you felt obligated to, considering you unintentionally scared Mike that day. 

Once Abby was sent to bed, Mike revealed that he had a dream that you had gotten into an accident at work, and to him, it felt so real that he believed it was reality. 

“I’m so sorry that happened, baby. Dreams are so weird.” You told him, hugging him for the nth time that night. 

Mike had a special little spot under your chin and on your collarbone where he could just bury his face into. He whimpered softly, holding your shirt in his balled fists. 

You kissed his forehead softly as he relaxed in your arms, moving his head down so it was now in your lap, resting against your thighs and using them for pillows. You played with his hair and hummed softly, the quiet sound of your singing gently lulling him to sleep, and soon you found yourself joining Mike in the realm of dreams.

>> end.

story written by @beesonhoneytoast. characters belong to five nights at freddy’s © 2014

[wannawritefast]

Comfortember 2023 Day 6: “Notes”

A/N: My sporadic contribution to Comfortember. It’s short but Johnny Cage bbs come get y’all juice. It’s my birth month and I’m closing in on the end of my semester so I can’t promise anything but please enjoy!!

Pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader

Warnings: none, fluff :)

Notes. Johnny left them everywhere. Don’t get him wrong. He definitely preferred the convenience of using his phone to send you little memos. It was instant and Johnny could really accommodate his own attention span by using his phone but when he found out on accident how much you loved them, he made a point of it.

You both still remembered the first of its kind.

A pink sticky note on the back of your script that said “And it was all a dream!” with the most hastily-drawn smiley face ever.

You laughed when you saw it. It was a miracle that it hadn’t become a casualty to the rough handling of your scripts before you discovered it.

He had to have done it when you were putting your post-its in your script, marking it up the night before. You hadn’t thought much of the clumsy kiss he gave you when he checked in as the sun went down. Then again you hadn’t been paying that close attention to him or anything else for that matter. A glass of water. A “How’s it going, baby?” A stumble and a peck. And his leg and hand knocking right into the back of the thick stack of 8.5 by 11 copy paper in your grasp as he had moved to sit next to you.

The bump into the script in your hand had been completely intentional, you realized with delight at the table read. It made your Instagram story in seconds accompanied by the words ‘original illustration by @johnny.cage’ and some pink hearts in the top right corner.

That had sealed it.

The next one you found was in your purse. Well, not your purse exactly. It was in the compact in your purse. Blue. “Hey, good-lookin.’” A winky face. It had fluttered out as you were landing out of the country for a shoot. You still had your neck pillow on. You sent Johnny one of the ugliest selfies you had ever taken with it. Against your protests, it became his lock screen photo.

Then they truly popped up everywhere. Your boyfriend was relentless.

A set of expensive rings you’d stared at a little too long on Rodeo. Purple sticky note. “For my precious.” A noble but indecent-looking stick figure attempt at Gollum was near it, partially scribbled out.

Surprise coffee in your trailer. Yellow note. Sunshine with sunglasses.

New boots, courtesy of Johnny. Pink. “Step on me in these.”

Sleeping in while he had left at the crack of dawn. Pink. “Busy all day. Sushi at our regular spot for dinner.” Heart.

Almost all of them made your Instagram story. The dick that looked like it had been drawn by a middle school boy on a blue sticky note slapped to the bathroom mirror, for example, hadn’t made the cut. The ones that did though… Johnny reposted each within 5 minutes, no matter what time it was.

Like the orange sticky note you woke up to under your glasses that said ‘Jinkies!’ You had gone to bed and left them on your nightstand at 4 am. Johnny had stayed up with you. He had left at 6 am for the day. It made you worry about his sleep schedule.

It didn’t matter that you couldn’t keep up with his god-like speed in making unique sticky notes. You posted them. And you kept and remembered all of them. All of them. Yes, even the blue doodle dick.

Again, Johnny definitely preferred sending you texts and voice memos as soon as he felt like you were forgetting how hot you were, which was usually several times a day. It should also be noted that the sticky notes never detracted from the amount of attention he was already giving you. Johnny was a beast at reminding you how much he loved you.

As he had said it once: “There’s no threshold, baby. I’ll die telling you how sexy your walker is; the last sticky note I ever leave you will tell you the same thing.”

He slapped one on your ass after he had said that. Yellow. “Johnny Cage wuz here.”

[secondhandevil]

Beggin on my knees rn for requests (like a whore)

[sigilcatt]

Hii

Sebastian x Reader where they don't have enough data so they just ask if they can pay w/ a kissy?

zomg this is so cute???

{reader is GN}

So far, the totality of this expedition sucked.

Signing up to fetch some stupid crystal for your freedom sounded like a flawless idea, sure. If you dismissed the plethora of creatures making an effort to kill you along the way. (Not like the people who sent you here cared, mind you.) You were chastised for any mistakes, even though they refused to even inform you about the opposing dangers to begin with. It was more of an…inconvenience if you happened to fail.

Regardless, between having to avoid possesed lockers, shadowy figures, and whatever those god-awful anglers were, you thought you were pretty damn good at this.

You’d managed to stay alive so far, approaching yet another door, this one marked “43.”

Hopefully this one would be easier than the last..

Gently slipping a thin, blue keycard inside the reader that had been installed into the door, waiting for it to hiss open with a scowl on your face. The door parted and swept aside, revealing yet another dark hallway before you.

Dammit, You thought with a groan, fumbling around in your bag to retrieve your flashlight. It was already low on juice, and of course, you had no batteries on you. Just your luck. Shaking it awake, the warm golden light illuminated the absolute mess of the corridor; large crates looked as if they’d been violently thrown across the room, one even appeared to have left minor damage to one of the many thick pipes lining the walls to your left.

Plus the considerable ragged clawmarks that laced the floor, but it was better to ignore those, no?

Taking a few deep breaths, you forced yourself to stray deeper into the space, your light scanning over each and every crevice. You weren’t about to risk letting anything jump out at you.

Except for the vent grille, apparently.

An earsplitting smash reverberated throughout the chambers as it rammed against the nearby wall, bouncing back for a mere second before collapsing onto the floor.

“What the hell-?!”

Out of shock, you dropped your flashlight, the generous amount of light you’d been given now gone as it rolled away from your feet. As you scrambled to pick it back up, a voice echoed through the vent opening.

“Got something for you.”

You narrowed your eyes at the small gap, quickly realizing who it was with frustation bubbling in your gut.

Sebastian. That 10ft sea monster that lingered around these areas, offering you useful supplies in exchange for data. You rolled your eyes with a sigh as you got on your knees, wincing with discomfort as you made your way through the vent to see him.

Of course it was him. Who else would it be? As much as he annoyed you with his unwarranted attitude and sass, he was still…nice to be around. Made things less lonely.

“Ah, you, welcome back.” He greeted, though of course laced his voice with sarcasm. “Really thought you’d be dead by now.”

“I’m more capable than you think, Seb,” You retorted, crossing your arms as you glared up at him, almost actually insulted he doubted you.

His long, grey, scaly tail sat curled against the wall, his selling items neatly attached to it. He scowled right back at you, demonstrating his usual toothy grin as his fins twitched slightly. “Sure.” He hissed softly.

You ignored him, browsing his wares with tired eyes. You approached his tail, ripping off a silvery flashlight and examining it. Without a second thought, you stuffed it into your bag and began to leave.

“Where are you going?” Sebastian scoffed. Abruptly, his wide tail clasped over the vent opening, preventing you from leaving. “You haven’t paid. You must actually be stupid, huh?”

“You owe me!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms into the air. “You scared me and made me drop my first flashlight. Now its’ broken, thanks.”

“Oh dear, really?” Sebastian hissed, feigning concern in his voice.

You groan in frustration as the sarcasm hit you, yanking your bag open to find any data you’d collected along the way. You were hoping to get this interaction over with, if he was going to be this sassy.

“Oh..damn..”

You stared into your palms, which held a few scraps of data, some of which were even broken during your travels. Whatever it was, you definetly did not carry enough to afford anything.

Sebastian laughed softly, seemingly observing this as well. “Too bad, then. That’s really embarrassing, I might add.”

“Wait, seriously?!” You clamored, desperate to leave here with something. “I can figure something out!”

“We had a deal. One you agreed to, in case you forgot. Either you pay, or you get nothing, sweetheart.” He added the taunting nickname with a scoff, reaching to take your bag from you.

You leapt away, knowing he’d tear it to pieces with his claws, even if he was trying to be gentle. Which he wasn’t, of course, but still.

“Wait, wait, I can-” You protested. An idea struck you suddenly. Not a very easy one, but it was something, at least. Oh well, what did you have to lose besides your life and freedom?

Sebastian pulled his hand away, narrow eyes boring into you as he waited for you to finish.

“How would you feel about some sort of…romantic gesture? Like, I don’t know, a fucking kiss or something?” You offered, preparing to be screamed out of the room.

But, to your surprise, that didn’t happen. He simply kept that narrow-eyed glare. At first, you thought he might not have heard you, so you drew in a breath to speak again. “I mean, come on. You think I can’t tell you at least like my presence a little? You’ve given me discounts and let me just sleep in here whenever.”

It was silent for a minute. The events you’d listed were true, however. You could recall moments when you’d just been so drained that he reluctantly allowed you to use his tail as some sort of pillow to rest with, along with the discounts on items he claimed were just him being in a “good mood” at the time.

“That desperate, are we?” Sebastian laughed, his voice yanking you out of your daydreams. He thought on your proposal for a few agonizingly long seconds before letting out a deep sigh. “…Fine.”

You let out a breath you didnt know you’d been holding, practically gripping your newfound flashlight as if it were your only lifesource. (It might as well be, considering your conditions, honestly..)

You opened your mouth to continue, though all that escaped you was a startled gasp as Sebastian lifted you off the ground. Cold, sharp claws grasped onto you with a gentleness you didn’t know he was capable of as he held you, level to his scaly face.

Your hands grabbed onto whatever part of his claws you could in order to keep yourself from falling as you stared at him with wide eyes.

“So?” He remarked with a frown. You cleared your throat with a deep breath. “Right..”

You leaned in further, pushing your hands against the side of his face as support before pressing your lips against him. Your body seemed to heat up as you did so, finding an odd sense of comfort as you let it linger for a few extra seconds.

“Mmh.” A satisfied hum escaped Sebastian as he gently curled his claws further around your body. Though the fear of falling wasn’t an issue for you right now. All you could seem to think about was the current situation, and the way it made you feel.

Eventually, you pulled away, wiping your mouth as you cleared your throat. You stared up at him, taking in the slight smirk being thrown your way.

“Good enough for you?” You asked, your voice softer than usual.

“Very,” He sighed, placing you down carefully. Your legs trembled as your feet finally touched the ground, due to the being held midair like that, and also maybe the fact that you had just kissed a sea creature you were told to avoid at all costs.

You tightened the hold on your flashlight as you stared off into space, thinking on your recent actions. Of course it earned you something, but holy shit.

In an attempt to take your mind off this, you sat down, arms wrapped around your legs as the lack of energy finally got to you. Sitting against the wall, you let out a sigh.

“Could I stay for a bit?”

“…For a few hours.” Sebastian exhaled, arms crossed as he glanced down at you.

You smiled, a silent ‘thank you’ as you let the well-deserved sensation of rest overcome you.

This was going to be an odd story to tell when you got back.

so sorry if this is shit, /gen , I haven’t written in forever , plus im much better with hcs 💔

[candylix]

netflix, no chill | lee felix

Pairing • Felix x GN!Reader

Summary • You're watching Felix's favorite movie, but you can't pay attention with his hand in your pants. Even worse, every time you're close, he stops what he's doing to tell you trivia about the movie. Unfortunately for him, you're more invested in getting some relief.

Genre • smut, pwp

WC • 1.2k

Content • no pronouns used but reader does have a vagina, clit stimulation, fingering, edging, dry humping, piv penetration, creampie

"Oh, see that tree in the back? It actually almost fell on top of a crew member while filming," Felix says, pointing to the screen. His fingers on your clit stop while he talks, something you've been dealing with for the past 20 minutes.

You're sitting on the couch between Felix's legs, watching a movie he's obsessed with, and his hand has been in your pants since it started. But every time he explains the lore, or the differences between the book and the movie, or tells you about what happened on set, his fingers stop. You can't tell if he's doing it on purpose or by accident, but he has a lot to say, and you can barely pay attention to anything but your pulsing core.

His fingers go back to circling your clit, dipping down into your wet hole and smearing the juices over your core. Your head leans back into his shoulder as he presses into a spot that makes you twitch, rubbing it until you can barely keep your eyes open. You can feel that familiar warmth in your stomach, orgasm building as he runs his fingers through your folds.

You feel one of his digits insert into you, and a quiet moan passes between your lips. His fingers pump in and out, dragging along your walls. All you hear are the wet noises your pussy makes, the movie long forgotten in your bliss. He curls his finger, rubbing against a sensitive spot, and you can't help how your body twitches against it.

A second finger teases your entrance, and he stretches your hole as he slips it in. The fullness you feel inside is enough to take you closer to your climax.

Suddenly, you hear a loud shout from the tv, and Felix retracts his fingers from inside you.

"Ok, you see how the shield he uses is circular," he says, miming the shape with both hands, and you can see your juices coat the hand that was just inside you. "In the book it was more of like a round diamond shape." He mimes the shape again, and all you want is for him to stop and go back to what he was doing. Your impending orgasm fades away.

"Felix, please," you beg, and he suddenly remembers what he was in the middle of.

"Oh, sorry."

His hand finds its way back to your aching core, cupping it while he shoves popcorn into his mouth with the other. He strokes the flesh around your clit, sliding easily against you with how wet you are. You lean further into his chest, relaxing back into the feeling. His fingers caress your eager nub, and when you groan as he strokes a sensitive area, he rubs into it harder.

You can't help the way your body mindlessly rocks into his hand. You don't even realize you're doing it, just letting yourself chase the feeling. He notices, though, because your rocking grinds against his crotch. The more he rubs your cunt, the harder you buck against him.

His fingers finally dip back into your hole, and the sounds of your sopping wet pussy enveloping him makes his cock twitch. He thrusts into you, making you moan his name. He can't pay attention to the movie anymore, too distracted by the friction against his throbbing dick as you grind into him, lost in your own pleasure.

He curls his fingers into you, rubbing against your walls, and bucks into your ass. You clench against his fingers as he thrusts deeper into you, about to finally cum, but a loud crash interrupts you as someone on screen gets thrown into a wall.

Felix's attention is once again on the movie. His fingers are inside you, unmoving as you throb around them, and his hard cock presses into your ass.

"This is important, watch. So that guy just killed the main character's brother, and that's going to be what sets up the events of the sequel."

You can barely parse what Felix is saying, mind too clouded from being edged this long. You try to hump his fingers, body begging for any kind of relief, and he finally notices when he feels movement against his dick again.

"You're really not paying attention, huh?"

"How can I? Every time I'm about to cum, you stop to tell me trivia," you whine.

"Yeah, but it's cool trivia. Like now," he says, and the scene changes to the characters walking through a forest, "did you know this was shot near a town with a lot of Bigfoot sightings?"

He can see on your face that you're not listening, mind filled with thoughts of him fucking you until you can't move. He sighs.

"Fine, I'll help you."

He clears the space on the table in front of you, and guides you onto it, laying on your stomach. In this position, he can fuck you while still watching the movie.

He pulls down everything standing between his dick and your cunt, and he admires the view. You're bare from the waist down, lying on the table, legs rubbing together in anticipation of his cock inside you.

"You better watch the movie when I'm done."

"I will, please, please start," you beg, and a soft smile adorns his lips. You were very cute like this, bent over and desperate for him to fuck you. This was a sight he rarely got to see.

He spreads your legs open, and his throbbing shaft prods your entrance. You moan as he pushes inside, easily sliding in from how wet you are. His thrusts are slow and steady, making sure he doesn't miss important scenes of conversations you couldn't care about right now. His cock pumps in and out, filling you up completely before pulling right back out.

"Faster," you moan, and he dutifully complies.

He speeds up his thrusts, groaning every time he bottoms you out. He hits you deep enough to hit a sweet spot you can't reach by yourself, and as he bucks faster, he slams into it with more force. Felix can't hear the movie anymore, the noise drowned out with his body slapping against your cunt and moans that cry out in pleasure.

His pace is erratic, his own desire to chase his high at odds with helping you reach yours. You can feel yourself coming closer to climax with each thrust hitting deep inside you, and your walls clench around his cock as you finally cum. You moan his name, juices drenching him as he pounds into you. The pressure on his dick as you ride out your high, and the way his name sounds coming out of you, brings him to his climax. He releases himself inside you, filling you up completely. He pulls out carefully, watching you twitch from the slow pull of his dick against your walls, and collapses back on the couch. The view of your juices mixes and seeping out of your pussy, it almost makes him want to fuck you again. But then he remembers what's about to happen in the movie, and that urge subsides.

You catch your breath on the table, and you feel his hands massage your bare ass.

"In this part, they were actually going to have an extra scene where they fight this one huge monster from the book, but it had to be cut," he says, as if he hadn't just cum inside you moments before. He was going to tell you facts about his favorite movie whether you wanted to hear them or not. "That monster is actually really relevant to the plot in the third book, so I'm not sure how they're going to introduce it when they make that movie."

You lift yourself off from the table, and move to sit back between Felix's thighs. He wraps his arms around your waist and snuggles his head into your shoulder.

There's no way you were going to be able to follow the plot.

[mingtinys]

what dating seventeen feels like

pairing : seventeen x gn!reader

headcanons , fluff , misc

warnings : none

word count : 1.1 k

requested ? no

a/n: just a small collection of the things i love in life that i associate with seventeen

choi seungcheol

falling asleep on the couch and waking up in bed. chocolate-covered strawberries. the kind of love found in romcoms. expensive dinner dates and champagne.

cologne that lingers on your clothes and bed sheets. tight, bone-crushing, hugs. his hand almost always under the hem of your shirt, skin to skin (it grounds him). him letting you win when you play wrestle. cute aggression victim.

having a rock to hold on to amidst a raging current.

yoon jeonghan

diving under a crashing wave to find calm, gentle, water. rollercoasters with big drops. feathers. lavender fields. leaving the theater and realizing night has fallen.

always saying the same thing at the same time (it scares seokmin). naps on the couch. sending each other pictures of weird-looking animals with the caption "you" or "us." partners in crime. braiding his hair.

having not only a boyfriend but a best friend in jeonghan.

joshua hong

warm blankets, fresh from the dryer. pancakes and orange juice in the morning. raw honey. the scent of freshly baked bread. scented candles and wax melts.

lives up to the gentleman title. opens doors, bides by the sidewalk rule, lends you his jacket, etc. acts! of! service!! fighting over who pays the bill (he's actually ambushed your waiter to pay before you can even see the check). domestic, mundane, slice-of-life type of love.

a honeymoon phase that never ends.

wen junhui

walking down empty streets without a care in the world. morning cartoons. clingy cats. ice cream for dinner. frozen pizza with red wine. airport liminal space hours.

taking pictures of sunsets to send to each other. doodling on his hand. staying up until 3am accidentally. back hugs galore. resting his chin atop your head. him getting as close as possible when showing him something on your phone (i'm talking cheek smooshed up against yours). sleepy jun asking for kisses every morning.

living life in the moment because you know the future can wait for you two.

kwon soonyoung

energetic snow days. sledding, snowball fights, building snowmen. energy drinks and all-nighters. watermelon sugar. summer bonfires. the ambiance of muffled music through club bathrooms.

zoo dates. always wins you the biggest prizes at carnivals. his favorite place to nap is your lap. sweaty post-dance practice hugs. he gets pouty if you start a tv show without him. baking brownies at 3am. talks about you non-stop to anyone who will (or won't) listen.

excitement that isn't momentary or overwhelming. excitement that makes life meaningful.

jeon wonwoo

tulips blooming in the spring. waxing gibbous moons. amethyst. resting after a long, busy day. the scent of old, yellowed books. rhythmic clicking of a keyboard. warm, smooth, riverbank stones.

re-adjusting his glasses for him after every kiss. let's you design his character's outfits in video games. tells you about the book he's reading like it's gossip. he's always taking candid photos of you. quiet mornings. elderly couples who see you two are reminded of how they fell in love.

defining love not by how much it's said, but by how it's felt.

lee jihoon

thunderstorms that lull you to sleep. shiny, red guitars coming to life with smooth melodies. the crackle of a fire. rosemary. empty highways at night. lightning that strikes twice.

morning coffee dates at home. napping on his studio sofa while he works. quality! time! absolutely spoils you every chance he gets. pretends to act all cool when you catch him staring. writing songs for you. his hand routinely finds your knee when he's anxious. he prefers intimate and private acts of affection to the alternative.

cherishing all the little things that make your relationship important.

lee seokmin

wishing on dandelions. blue skies. morning dew on grass. golden hour. that burning sensation you get in your lungs when laughing too hard. iced lattes.

always asking permission to kiss you. so, so attentive. falling asleep on facetime. pillow forts. lots, and lots, and lots of nose kisses. him never wanting to leave you in the morning. "five more minutes" type of guy. his favorite feeling in the world is making you laugh.

finally knowing what it means to love someone so much you'd give the world for them.

kim mingyu

sleeping by a window with the sun warming your skin. hearing your favorite song on the radio. silky white sheets. first date jitters. first love. receiving a bouquet of roses.

admires you so, so, much. talks about you 24/7, much to his members' annoyance. (jk, they love you, they just like to tease him about it). literally a sponge the way he starts picking up your habits and slang. he's physically incapable of rejecting your puppy-dog eyes. likes to lay sprawled out on top of you. he'll often seek you out if he needs a little extra support.

the feeling that comes with knowing you've found "the one."

xu minghao

the autumn leaves changing. winter constellations. a solar eclipse. the quiet of a house before everyone wakes. those cozy granny-square blankets. white wine. laughing at scary movies.

wine and painting nights. him always making two cups of tea. art museum dates. swaying together to music in the kitchen. him secretly being a sucker for your doting. has your mannerisms memorized and prides himself on it. somehow always knows what to say when you're feeling down.

growing, learning, and experiencing life alongside each other.

boo seungkwan

warm, summer air. mystery flavored lollipops that somehow taste like every flavor all at once. rosy red cheeks.

teasing each other and inside jokes. nicknames like loser, stupid-head, idiot etc. (affectionate). hours long gossip sessions. kisses that taste of coffee and tangerine chapstick. stars in his eyes whenever you're doing literally anything. having his undivided attention.

resident happy pill and mood-maker seungkwan knowing he can let his mask fall around you without judgement.

hansol vernon chwe

watching city lights blur past in the passenger seat of a car at night. cereal at 1am. falling asleep while watching tv. poorly handmade, yet meaningful gifts. assorted candies. buying road trip snacks.

communicating with a single look. ice cream dates in the middle of winter. speaking purely in movie and tiktok references. late-night conversations that take a weird turn. (you've once debated if aliens would like pineapple on pizza). pretending not to notice how shy he gets when initiating physical affection.

loving the strange, bad, and hidden parts of each other as much as the good.

lee chan

the comforting buzz and motion of a subway at night. toothy smiles. watching reruns of your favorite childhood show. surprise parties. the first snow of the new year. concert lights.

driving at 2am, singing at the top of your lungs. random dance parties in the living room. getting noise complaints and giggling about it. pillow fights and board games, competitive, yet both trying to let the other win cause it'll make them happy. asking him to open jars. him getting exceptionally giddy to open said jars. (you're completely capable, but know he likes to feel needed).

making each other's inner child feel safe.

[yandere-kokeshi]

— it's mate

Pairing: yandere tentacle-monster x gn reader

Summary: coming home angry from a bad day at work, you started to have fun with yourself. But some tentacles under your bed also wanted to join.

Warnings: yandere behavior, cursing, and smut: mention of dildo’s, reader watches porn from phone (that's soon forgotten), masturbation, slight choking, tentacles (DUH), anal, creampie in all ends (;)), and hints at eggs. 

Sighing softly, you dropped your bags from work as you entered your home, the exhaustion of the day at the office weighing heavy on your shoulders. 

Your dickbag of a boss, Jared, was an idiot. Blaming you for things that were out of your control. Treating you differently than the rest of your team. Teasing too far and being too touchy for comfort. What an ignorant prick. 

It was irritating just thinking about him. 

Watching his ‘unique’ hair toss back, dye a colorful green, and flaunt it like it’s the most amazing thing. Oh, and let’s not forget about the horrible smell of cigarettes. The sharp cologne was worse. 

Gagging was a good way of describing him.

You weren’t hungry. Eating soup at lunch was fulfilling, but you were fulfilling something else. Something more… private. 

Walking into your bedroom, you sluggishly undressed yourself, throwing the dirty clothes onto the floor as you reached for your t-shirt. But you hesitated, stopping in your tracks before, knowing full well you don’t need it. 

It was a long day, and you deserve a treat. A good treat, that’s for sure. 

You flopped on your bed, a sizzling warmth of desire swirling in your stomach. You were unsure where the urge came from, considering that nothing — not even your favorite dildos were in sight to tempt you. 

But it was still there, and it needed to be satiated. 

The soft comforter tickled your bare legs, making you bite your lips. You snaked your hands up your stomach to your chest, fondling your now-hardened nubs. It sent chills down your spine, but it wasn’t satisfying your needs. 

You reached beside you, unlocking your phone with swift fingers, and began your search; the reliable porn site you used all the time when days were too rough. 

Quickly finding an appealing video, one that you knew would get you off, you pressed it — feeling your thighs clench uncontrollably at the excitement. 

As the video continued, you chewed your lips and snaked your hand underneath your laced underwear; feeling wetness pile. Your head falls back into your pillow, your fingers barely grazing your hole.

You felt your entire body flush. Electricity sends signals down your legs and into your sex. Within seconds, one of your hands went up to fondle your sensitive nipples. Gripping at them, you swirled a finger around your areola. 

Goosebumps rode over you. 

Gasping, you stroked your hole before entering it — slowing the pace as stretching, slight pain came, then quickening it another second later as pleasure and hotness envelops you. 

“Fuck–” you rasped out, pleasure shooting through you and the rope in your abdomen tightening; a clear sign of your closeness. 

Your phone slid beside you, the voices and sounds turning you on more than ever. You quickened the pace of your rubbing, swirling your juices in your sex with your two fingers. 

Suddenly, a faint feeling — a sliding, wet object wraps around your ankle, yanking it closer to the edge. Even with your fingers, you were too occupied with wanting to finish. But yet, something else joined in. 

Black tentacles rose from under your bed, connecting to your ankles and going up your body with a weird sensation: a cold, slick but hot touch. It was pleasing. Odd. Enjoyable nevertheless. 

Cursing out, you turned your gaze down towards your bare legs, seeing black tendrils gripping your ankles. Realization hit you like a bat, and you snatched your legs up, scrambling to sit upright. 

But the darkness grew bigger – pooling around your legs, dragging your form down slowly as they gripped your thighs, skin pulling at the sounds of suction cups pulling at them. 

It was pleasant, fulfilling, just like your desire. Despite your racing heart.

It made no sound, but the pressure increased until your legs parted willingly, and you lay back against your pillow. Yet, you let out a surprised gasp – feeling a black tendril immediately coming up and gripping your neck. 

The thick appendage swirled around your face, pulsing in a way as it was leaving a type of sticky substance onto your cheek — It stopped at your mouth, almost asking for consent before forcing it into your parted lips.

You gagged, but mewled as an intense pleasure like nothing you had ever experienced swept through you, starting from your sex and sweeping up your body, right under your skin like thunder. 

Cool and insistent, the pleasure seemed to touch you everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Something purred loudly from the blacks of your room. But you couldn’t pay attention to the almost-ancient voice. 

The tentacle in your mouth began to pump slowly, moving further down your throat. You gagged loudly, and when you tried pulling it out, the slick but hot-to-touch skin rose a large growl from the abyss of your room — the sound echoing itself into your very soul. 

You found yourself mewling in seconds. The thick, iridescent tendril between your legs started to tease you; purring loudly, as if it was enjoying your tensed body and gagging state. 

First heat then cold prickled your skin from the inside, all the while the creature remained between your bent legs. 

You knew you should be afraid, yelling for help, but it felt so good. You were so wet.

Then, what felt like a thick, serpentine tongue lapped curiously around your sex, tasting you, before the very tip pressed against your hole and you yelped. That same numbing, tingling, intense hot and cold, almost like when you tasted alcohol for the first time, began to swirl around your hole, tracing the lines of your puffed sex, and finally dipping inside you.

You moaned in pleasure, toes curling, as the creature moved rhythmically in and out of you, licking over your nipples when it pulled out, then returning the pressure to your inner walls until you were dripping and shuddering. 

It seemed to like it when you moaned, pushing deeper and gripping your thighs with its strange, tentacles which joined in your other hole.

“More…” breathed a deep and echoing voice, the walls of your room itself echoing the demand. 

You were stuffed in each way. 

The tentacle in your mouth started to jerk quickly, the tentacle slapping against your chin with every thrust. You moaned, feeling pleasure sweeping through you, you wanted to say more. Please give me more. But you couldn’t. 

Not when you’re stuffed to the brim. 

Spit dribbled down your chin. Numbing your skin as it face-fucked you; the movements becoming uneven, and the creature, somehow, groaning in a non-English language. 

“Such a pretty thing…”

The voice rang in your ears, your throat bulged as a muffled scream erupted from you — feeling pulsing ropes coiling around your arms, legs, and thighs; wrapping each of your limbs tightly and spreading you wider as you rose faster to your needed climax. 

Suddenly, an intense pleasure like nothing you had ever experienced swept through you, starting from your sex and sweeping up your body under your skin like electricity. 

And with that, the length, deep-throating you, sent hot strings of fluid down your throat; coating your tongue with salty, but delicious fluid that was entirely making you crazy. 

“Yesss….” came the echoed voice, one tendril tightening around your leg as another was playing with your nipples, “Swallow us whole, pretty human.”

Your eyes were watering, as you swallowed the continuous hot, thick fluid down your tightening throat. You couldn’t breathe, all your holes being used.

Seconds went by, and before you know it, the creature slid itself out of your abused throat — you let out a low-pitched whine, not only at the fact of not finishing, but wanting to continue.

Your struck nerves were going through the roof, and the creature was enjoying it.

“No need to be upset,” the creature cooed, “You’ll soon finish. Just need to prepare for the breeding process, mate.”

The voice hummed as your eyes widened. But, it left with no room for questioning or begging, because when it said that, you were quickly repositioned — you now being on your stomach, face being squished against your pillow, and feeling a rope slithering down your sleek back. Assuring you as to what’s about to come. 

Your heart lurched as you felt something much larger, thicker, took the place of the thin tentacle, the head testing against your entrances until your spine arched, and you moaned loudly against the writhing darkness around you. 

Then, in one brutal motion, it seated itself inside you. 

Its lengths filled you, and something pressed against that spot as its movements crescendoed, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

You moaned shamelessly, “Yes–! More!” 

The surrounding air got warmer, the movements behind you slightly rougher as each tentacle took turns — one going in, another going out, and vice versa. 

“All ours.”

The growls it revealed sent shivers into your soul. And you were taking everyone like a whore. 

Pleasure like you’ve never felt before swept through you, and you bit into the sheets, moaning like a good ol’ breeder as drool smeared across your hot skin. Strong, and thick tentacles surrounded your waist, arms, and thighs as it pounded into you faster as it growled loudly. 

And finally, you broke. 

You came with a scream, back arching, hips lifting, and hands gripping the wet sheets. Your body spasmed, the rope in your stomach snapped, and the fire spread along your body; sending you over the edge.

“You take us so well — sooo tight.”

And with that, the creature climaxed — hot, thick, and filling cum filled you to the prim. Many tentacles nuzzle your neck, jaw, and help pull your sweaty hair out of your forehead. 

It purred as the fluid filled you still. You felt the tentacles still pleasuring you, sliding in and out of your spent holes at a tortuously slow speed. Even though you were full, you felt hot liquid dribble down your thighs and onto the bed. 

The creature chuckled, a slimy-like tongue licking your sweat. It seemed to enjoy your taste.

“We promise to provide the best treatment for you – after all, we are not done.”

You didn’t say anything, even though you wanted to. You simply allowed exhaustion to wash over you, claiming you instantly as your eyes fluttered closed. 

The next morning, the birds chirping and the morning light shining in your room, you grunted at your sore body. Still feeling the same hotness as you felt before. At first, you were so sure it had to be a dream.

But as you looked down, seeing circled hickeys stained onto your skin, and the sheets stained with liquid, it proved you wrong.

Before you could get up, and use the bathroom to clean yourself up from the very messy night — you felt a thick appendage wrap around your ankle, yanking you back into the bed. And before you could speak, something beat you to it.

“Didn’t we tell you we are not done? We need you as our personal mate.”

Goosebumps rose, and the very ache inside you throbbed. 

Before long, you were at it again — all your holes used, your ass and main hole used as breeding grounds as your mouth was used as a bucket holder. And yet, you couldn’t ask for more than a perfect thing. 

You couldn’t say anything, your voice was worn out too long ago that you had forgotten. 

And yet, just as you placed your hand on your belly, hours already passed as a small tentacle affectingly swirled against your fingers, you felt your tummy quite larger; a hint of its impregnating grounds already working. 

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

Tags: @finleyrambles , @juciybeef. @valeriasbaby ,

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

A Day in Life

Synopsis: A day in the life of Jason Todd. Also, he's a househusband now. Oh, and a little plot twist.

Pairing: Househusband!Jason Todd X Gn!Reader; Platonic!Batfam

Tw: Canon level angst for Jason; Some sexual innuendos; Writer apparently doesn't know how to finish a story anymore; This is pretty slice-of-life so maybe boring?; English is not my first language.

Word count: 3,8k

Requested? No.

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Wake up, make out, get up. First steps of your everyday routine. Sometimes making out turns into something more, but not today.

From his past life, as Robin, Jason learned a lot about discipline. As much as he tried to forget everything and everyone from his past before you, some habits die hard, although with time, with you and with therapy, he accepted that not all of his experience was bad or should be thrown away just because of one sociopathic clown who hurt him. Yes, Jason died, came back angry and did a lot of shit. But he was still alive and this could be a second chance.

While you, his darling spouse, get ready for work, Jason gets up, puts on his apron, fills the dog bowl for Daphne — your little brown dachshund that you adopted together four months after getting married —, opens the doors to the garden, so the dog can do whatever, and finally starts making breakfast and lunch. Breakfast so you two can eat together and lunch for you to eat at work. Sometimes you both meet up and eat together at your office or a restaurant. Today, that's not the case.

Simple yogurt with fresh fruits and nuts, coupled with a slice of chocolate cake he baked the day prior, eggs, toast and coffee for breakfast. As for your lunch box, a natural sandwich, salad, fruits and juice. He also fills up your two liter water bottle, so you feel pressured have no excuse but to stay hydrated.

Food. Until he was 12 his relationship with food was complicated, to stay the least. At first, his beloved but troubled mom would be in no condition to cook him three or more nice and fulfilling meals a day for a growing boy, he either had to learn and make do with quick instant food, eggs and old bread, or starve, since money was something he only saw when it was being handled to her drug dealer. His father was even worse. Jason loved his mom. Still suffers for her. He hated his father who was the one making her addiction worse. He’s still happy he died.

Living on the streets, food was a dream. A bad dream. It either came from trash or he had to do things that made him feel humiliated and guilty just to get some. And it was gone in a flash, he was so hungry he devoured it all in a second, and then his belly hurt.

Then he came. Jason loved his new father. Loved his new grandfather. Loved their food. So healthy, abundant and full of taste. So fun to prepare. He learned a lot from Alfred because he loved to spend time with him, play with the ingredients and make everyone and himself happy with the results.

But then he had those memories wiped out of his mind, (un)fortunately they came back, but at that time food was in the back of his mind. Sure, he didn't have to worry about starving, crime paid more than enough for that, but he didn't put much thought into any of it.

Now, with you, he's making new memories with food. He cooked and baked a lot with you and for you throughout all your relationship, and you did the same for him. He loves his kitchen, just like the rest of your house. The pantry and fridge are always full thanks to you. You take good care of him. You make his trust in you be worth it. And he reciprocates it. Healthy and nice food that brings comfort and makes you roll your eyes. Especially after he started frequenting cooking classes as a hobby, again, thanks to you.

After you are gone with a full belly and a pet in the ass (just like him, honestly), he continues his routine. He changes clothes and goes to the gym. Jason never stopped exercising, but the lack of all the activity vigilantism entails and with all the treats you two have, he started getting more soft. You loved it, he hated it. — Okay he didn't hate it, he just wasn't the most happy with it. Roy thought it was kinda funny, until Jason pointed out he also got softer after Lian. You honestly couldn't see why all that softness they were talking about was so bad since they were still very muscular and defined, just less dry and more snuggly. You honestly thought your Jaybird could go even further. — So the addiction of yoga to his routine happened.

After that, he goes straight home, eats, showers, takes care of his appearance to keep looking like a proper hubby that you can shove on your bitter frenemies faces, and makes sure to keep the maintenance of the house, so you can come back tired from work and enjoy a perfect house to rest on.

Hygiene. Another things that was complicated with his biological family. His father wouldn't touch a single plate or broom, and would beat and scream at his mom if she didn't put her high (again, because of him) ass up and did the labor. Most often than not, their house was messy, had a bad smell that his little nose was so used to that it's not like he minded, and had insects around. His clothes were dirty hand-me-downs, some fit him, some didn't, a lot of them had holes. His hair tangled and itchy.

When he went to the streets, it just got worse.

Bruce and Alfred fixed that. He finally learned what stink was because he only knew good and neutral scents. His clothes fit him. Everything around him was clean and well-kept. No holes, no stains. Hair always trimmed, soft and clean. Well maintained.

When he came back, cleanliness was basic. Of course he is gonna keep everything around him clean. Habit and common sense, you know? Clothes his size because why the hell would he use hand-me-downs when he can just buy his own? And they had to be the right size for his new 6’2 and almost 200 lbs body. Hair? Whatever. Always washed but as long as it didn't look ridiculous he didn't have time to put much thought on his appearance. He was genuinely surprised you were attracted to him at first sight.

Being with you, he learned to enjoy the little things in life again. Sometimes he finds himself unmoving in front of a random room of the house, or in front of the mirror, trying to grasp if it's all real, If this is really his life, if that's how he looks. His mind flashes memories of his childhood home and his current home. He ignores the memories of the manor not only because of the betrayal he felt for Bruce, but also because the manor was from the Wayne's. He was a Wayne. He is not anymore. This is him. His new house, with you, is what he wished he had growing up. What he always dreamed of. Love. Company. And comfort. He felt all of that while being a Wayne, until he despised the Wayne's. Not the couple that died decades ago or the centuries old descendants. But his father and his siblings.

On days where he doesn't take care of the house, he practices his hobbies. He now has time to do it all, surprising you, his therapist, Roy, and himself, he did cooking, gardening, pottery, crocheting and of course, reading. You paid for all his classes, praised him on his achievements, added his creations to the decor of the house, accompanied him on any event or place related to his interests, gave him his own library in one of the rooms in the house. He even made some friends between middle-aged women and the only other househusband and stay-a-home dad that frequented those places.

It was very funny and cute seeing rough, huge, leather jacket wearing and scarred Jason Todd telling jokes to 50-year-old white moms/grandmas and sometimes even babysitting their kids, pets and plants. You knew he could be a good dad one day if you decided to have kids. He was also more than happy to have just you, Daphne and good friends. And plants.

Warmth. When he was a kid his parents broke the heater during a fight, he wondered if they didn't have money to fix it, even with his father's activities, or if his father just refused to fix it. Anyhow, it was always cold in Gotham, freezing on winter, his dirty clothes with holes didn't help much. The streets didn't seem much different in that aspect. The manor kept him warm when he wasn't seven feet under the dirt, in a casket. When he came back, Jason always wore the warmest of clothes, even while sweating, he didn't know why. Now he did. Your house is always warm. Your body is always warm. Comfort. Your love gave him comfort. Warmth. A reason to live.

Love. His mom. Bruce and Alfred. You.

After he was done and rested for a little, Jason took Daphne for a walk in the way to the grocery shop. He wanted to try a new receipt you saw on tiktok today for dinner and had to get more flour and something for the filling.

After a few minutes of walking on his perfectly nice looking and safe neighborhood — nothing like crime alley. The type of neighborhood he saw on the television and imagined those other happy kids his age living and envied them. Dreamed of being adopted into one of their families while jumping from orphanage to orphanage. It never happened. He just got more abused. And then the manor was so isolated that you could only see mansions and plants all around. So big and far away that they looked empty of life. — he got there and strapped the dog to a post, next to a smiley golden retriever.

He got in and- fuck it, I'm going home. The empanadas can wait another day.

— Jason? Oh my god. Jason! Is that you?! — The infuriatingly familiar loud voice calls out from the middle of the shop and all heads turn to look. Shit, he can't go now without embarrassing himself in front of the cashier of his favorite and most visited shop. So he just nods, takes a basket and walks as if there was nothing interesting happening. It worked with the others costumers, unfortunately, Dick thought it was way too interesting and forgot his own basket that only contained eggs and cereal, and started following him around, this time, with a less surprised tone.

— Hey, Dick. — Jason idly muttered, that just made his coff coff brother indignant.

— Hey, Dick?! What the hell? Where were you? It's been three years! We thought you were dead! Or kidnapped! We never stopped looking for you! We were worried! We mourned! What happened? — Was it bad that Jason didn't want to give him a real answer? Probably. Especially with how much his therapist, who he saw on the days he didn't go to the gym, told him he should try to mend things with his family. So much so that he started actually contemplating it recently. But if he did it, it was going to be on his own time. Not by bumping into them in the grocery store. Oh, well. Jason was always good at adapting. The best.

And wow, three years had passed? Makes sense. Recovery does take time and he's been really happy for a while. Jason still remembers the day he decided to quit everything. It was the same day he decided you were the one, truthfully he always knew you were marriage material, the perfect one for him, out of his league, straight out of his most amazing dreams, peak goal for him, but he wasn't sure if he deserved to be the one you should be stuck with forever. He desperately wanted to, but he had to commit. Ride or die. He loved you, now more than ever, and didn't want to waste your time. He was still a bit messy at the time, but you made it all better, he was a lot better than he was before you came into the picture. You were the right choice. Jason always took you seriously, he was just insecure. So, while still in around eight months of relationship, he quit everything.

He quit his family. He quit vigilantism. He searched for recovery. And a year and a half later, with a little more than two years of dating, he made the big proposal. You married on your three-year anniversary. Got Daphne four months later. It's been around three or four months ever since.

While Dick’s math might not be exact, it is not necessary in this context, the point came across just fine.

He also knew that the fact that you both decided to not leave Gotham was going to bite him in the ass one day. One way or another.

— What happened? Oh, well. I retired. Got married. And now I'm a dad. — Daphne was like a daughter to him, so it was the same, right?

His nonchalant reply didn't seem to satisfy the other, though. Todd could see it, the urge to strangle him in his eyes. Dick wouldn't strangle his dead missing little brother, would he?

— You… You what? — Dick was in disbelief.

— You guys searched for me? Thanks, I guess? It means a lot. — Jason just sniffed and went on his way, leaving Grayson behind, paralyzed.

Maybe he could be fast enough and get out of there before the older one got a grasp of his senses back and followed him out. Part of him felt hope, the other heard yours and his therapist voices in his head, and the nagging was annoying. Maybe he never stopped being a “grump”, like you always amusedly said.

Oh, no. Here he comes again. Jason suppresses an eye-roll.

— Stop. Can you really explain? — The mix of emotions was almost overwhelming, an urge to cry, punch a wall, punch Jason's face, scream and who knows what more was running through Dick's body.

Jason sighed and finally addressed him completely. Tone lower so no one could hear.

— Okay. I met someone… Someone good. Someone special. A civilian. I was tired of everything. So I decided to retire and made sure none of you could find me. I'm surprised Roy and Lian kept the secret from you, though. Anyway. Now I'm a stay-at-home hubby, have a dog and go to therapy. You happy? — A beat of silence. — Hey, don't make that face… I was going to tell you guys eventually… When I felt like it… It's not like you guys saw me a lot. How much time did it take for you all to miss me? I made an appearance once in a while when someone asked for help and that's it. Alfred knew everything so if you’re gonna be mad at anyone, be at him too, not just me… And Roy. Don't forget Roy.

— A-Are you kidding me? Oh, yes, blame the butler! You couldn't even tell us? Like “hey guys, I'm gonna retire and take some time for myself for a while. Also, come to my wedding!” I wanted to be invited, you know?! Why didn't you invite me? Did you at least invite Alfred? Did- — Jason rolled his eyes and cut his rant.

— Yes, Alfred was there. Front row and everything. — Dick shrieked.

— T-That’s not the point! — His voice raised slightly from exasperation and both of them checked around for anyone's attention, then came back to the conversation.

Jason raised a hand to interrupt him and took a deep breath.

— Look. I wasn't in a nice place at the time, okay? I'm better now… And I was going to talk to you guys sooner rather than later… — Jason let a moment of vulnerability shine, hoping that would melt his brother's heart and fix things. It did. — We will have a second wedding when we renovate our vows in our 5th anniversary. You can be there… Everyone can be there. — Jason cleared his throat to interrupt the other again. — But now I have to get home in time to make dinner for my honeyboo, so why don't we… Stay in contact and… One of those days everyone can have dinner together and catch up, huh?

Dick took one of the deepest breaths of his whole life. Jason pursed his lips.

— Okay… — He stuck a finger in his face roughly. — But don't disappear again. Or else I promise I’m gonna personally make everyone track you down, understood? — Jason snorted. As if Tim and Bruce wouldn't do it already once they knew everything. As if Bruce didn't secretly keep track of him this whole time. Unless… Unless everyone changed and he didn't know his… His family anymore.

Why did it make him feel weird?

— Yes, boss. — Jason saluted him and left.

— Relax… — You elongated the word. — Nothing bad it's gonna happen… — You went behind Jason and tried rubbing his broad shoulders to chase the tenseness away. The sight and feel of his muscles almost made you drool, and you blinked to focus again.

— How do you know? — You pursed your lips and went to his side to try to make him take his eyes off of cleaning the countertop for the 4th time due to anxiety.

— Because they love you. And they care about you. And they miss you. — Jason deadpanned you. — Just give it a chance. If anything goes wrong, we will just kick them out and you never have to talk to them, ever again. We can even move if you want. Or go on a vacation to the same place we had our honeymoon, I can wear that skimpy piece you like… Spoil you rotten… — Your voice lowered seductively and you pressed your body to his side, running your hand up and down his arms with some pressure.

Jason’s mind went blank and he was speechless for a few seconds. Your eyebrows raised with a small, convincing smile that made all his worries go away. He sighed.

— Okay… Okay, you’re right… — He leaned down and sneaked an arm around your waist. You both shared a slow and wet kiss, bordering between sensual and calming. Unfortunately, he had to wait a few hours before having some action. He pulled his face away a few centimeters, looking you in the eyes. — I thought I had ripped that thing. — You blinked.

— You just might have. But I bought another one because I looked too good on it not to wear it again. — You shared a chuckle when the doorbell rang. You both looked at the door, then at each other. — Want me to get it? — You ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the last of his nerves. Jason swallowed.

— No. Have to get it over with. — He took a deep breath and then let out. Pulling away from your embrace. — Put the juice on the table for me, please? — You hummed and nodded.

Without giving a second thought, he walked in long strides and abruptly opened the door.

It was like that scene in Avengers: End Game when on one side there was just Captain America against the whole Thanos's army, just staring at each other.

— Are you wearing an apron? — Damian snarked with an eyebrow raised. Jason looked down. Yes, he was. Good start.

— Take your shoes off, there’s other shoes for you all there. And here I was having hope that at fifteen you wouldn't be a demon anymore. — Jason said sarcastically and gave them space to enter.

As soon as they got in the neighborhood they were all already skeptical. If you were the only one working, how much do you earn to live in such a nice area and with this nice house? They could even see a pool in the backyard and there were TWO expensive cars in the driveway. Jason said he quit all of the crime lord thing, did he keep the savings? Did he invest?

The little dog came running and barking, taking their attention away from the house and their shoes, Damian immediately crouched to pet her. Jason let a side of his lips go up. At least that hasn't changed.

— Her name is Daphne. — Jason spoke over the cooing of Duke and Cass at the dog. He locked eyes with Bruce who had an unreadable expression on his face. He looked older, Jason didn't know how to feel about that. Then gazed at Dick, who had a shit eating grin, Alfred, whose satisfied smile warmed his heart, and Tim, who was analyzing the space while changing shoes.

— Nice place. So, what does your partner do? — Are they committing fraud? — You appeared from the corner and replied for him.

— I direct the Queen Industries’s Gotham’s office. — You answered softly with a polite smile, stopping besides Jason, who wrapped an arm around you. Everyone's gaze turning on you made you feel shy, but you held on with confidence.

— Oh, wow, so Jason really is a malewife. — Your eyes widened in surprised and you couldn't hold back a laugh. Jason let a small smile graze his lips, coaxing the easiness out of him.

— I offered to pay cleaning and cooking service, but he wanted to do things himself. — You say, a little afraid they would get angry at you for “slavering” their Jason.

— Did you buy those cars outside? — Wow, Tim really was as skeptical as Jason had said.

— Hmhmm. — You nodded simply, as if it was nothing.

Jason's siblings raised their eyebrows and Bruce cleared his throat, and took a step forward, feet clad in fluffy slippers. He offered a hand and presented himself politely to you. You wondered how much of that was his persona and how much was just a father meeting his son's partner.

While giving them a tour of the house, the family — aside from Alfred who already knew it all — observed the details, happy memories in the form of pictures of trips, your marriage, birthdays, anniversaries, Daphne's growing stages, spontaneous moments that just deserved to be eternalized, trinkets, handmade pots, plants, Daphne’s toys, and the decor that was just a mix of you both. No guns in the walls, no corpses buried in the backyard, no blood stains. The only signals that it was their Jason living here and not a clone were the books, pictures and hidden security measures. 

It was… Good. Peaceful. Clearly the change in scenario helped him. It hurt them a little, some more than others, that it took him cutting them off for him to start healing, although, maybe opening up this new side of him for them meant that it wasn't just that. And it wasn't. The fault didn't fall completely on them. Nor on Jason. And one person, you, can't be the solution for all global crisis. Mental health is complex. Trauma is complicated. Past can't be changed, but the future can. 

That night, everyone enjoyed Jason's cooking, Daphne and the new future.

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[loko4koko]

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>contents: mostly gn!reader, some moments are written with f!reader in mind though so beware! | yuuji- sex toys (dildos), fingering (f!receiving), cervix fucking (brief mention), established relationship, yuuji has a big dick; gojo- fingering (f!receiving), pussy worship, anal play, explicit p in v, pussy referred to as ‘she’, implied squirting; toji- anal (f!receiving), size kink, dirty (filthy) talk, mating press, squirting; nanami- established relationship, domestic nanami, sensual/romantic/gentle p in v, missionary, titty sucking, reader is referred to as “wife” and wears a nightgown

♡︎ with (aged up) virgin!boyfriend!yuuji

being in a relationship with yuuji was wonderful. he made you laugh, comforted you when you needed it, and, even though he’s a virgin, he still knows how to make you cum. don’t get me wrong, yuuji would die to give you his virginity, but he’s just so nervous. always worrying about if he’ll do a good job at making you feel good, and especially about if he’ll even last long enough—he thinks he’ll blow his load the second he’s inside of those hot, slippery walls of yours. so, he came up with something that would satisfy you both until he could work through those nerves. he’ll start by kissing you, so sweet but so full of need, as he undresses you, lying you down on his bed with your ass up. he grips your cheeks and spreads them apart, watching with wonder and lust soaked eyes as the sticky strings of your arousal shine in the light. he can’t help but to tease your lower lips with his long middle finger, reveling in your little gasping whines when he brushes against your clit.

“you ready, baby?” he asks, not bothering to wait for a proper answer before he picks up the real star of the show that’s sitting beside him. he can’t wait, he’s just too excited! it’s his favorite toy to use on you—a dildo he’d found that was similar enough to the length and shape of his own girthy cock. and how perfect was it that it was a delicate pink, the same color as his mussed locks? he gives you no words of warning before he’s slicking the cool silicone up with your plentiful juices, a shudder running through you at the toy sliding through your folds.

it’s funny, actually, how gently he eases the toy into you at first. he’s so slow, letting you adjust to the thick shaft now splitting your sopping little pussy apart. it’s got you whimpering, squirming at the intrusion that makes you feel so full, so good. but when he thinks you’re well adjusted, gentle is the last word you’d use to describe him. his grip on the base of the toy is tight, forcefully pulling the fake cock out and punching it back into you. he’s gotten good at this over the past few weeks, too, knows how to angle it juuust right to hit that little pleasure button inside of you. he fucks the toy in and out of you so fast it makes your head spin and your eyes tear up, fingers digging into the sheets for a grip on something or else you think you might float away. he leaves the dildo inside of you to slap the base, growing impossibly harder as you cry that it’s “soo f-fucking deeep, yuuji, please!” he only shows you mercy by pressing his palm to the base and grinding the toy inside you—so deep that you think it touches your cervix—and when you whine about how close you are to cumming again, he goes right back to that fast fucking until that pretty little pussy is creaming all over it.

♡ with bestfriend!gojo

letting your best friend play with your pussy was normal, right?

well, it was normal for you and gojo at least. like now, and how he had you on your hands and knees on the couch in his apartment. he couldn’t help the way he worshipped your delicious cunt—he was powerless to it, to you. you’d gotten so wet from his scandalous tongue in your mouth, but he needed to feel just how soaked you were for himself. he’s got his thumb between your folds, massaging up and down your slit. he’ll focus on your hole, smearing the growing wetness around before slipping the digit back down, then back up again.

and if his fingers drift upwards, away from your clit and syrup-sticky pussy lips, to your pretty little asshole that just wouldn’t stop winking at him, would you be upset with him? could you, even? he doesn’t think so, not with the way you moan so fucking sexy and wanton when he smooths some of your slick across the delicate hole. he adds a little pressure, just enough of a tease to make you think he’ll slip it inside, but he doesn’t. instead he just massages the puckering hole with the tip of his finger. it’s tempting, but he won’t fuck you there today- he’s got his mind set on that pussy that grips and squeezes him so much he thinks she’s determined to suck the cum right out of him. he’ll take his fingers back down to your pussy, wetter now from his little anal adventure, and plunge his index and middle fingers in knuckle deep. he’s un-rushed in his exploration of your cunt, shallowly thrusting his long digits in and out of you. he reaches so far inside of you, flicking his fingertips against your g-spot over and over and over again. he’s hard enough from everything about you already—how needy you kissed him back earlier and how your pussy is so wet he can fucking hear it, but when you start wiggling your ass and fucking yourself on his hand? god, he thinks he’s going to cum buckets right then and there.

“y’want me ta fuck you, angel? yeah? want me deep in this pretty little pussy? oh, fuck..if you could see how she’s twitching for me.. i think she wants me in there, baby,” he sighs lustfully, enraptured as he watches your pussyhole weep and clench around nothing. but it’s okay, he’s gonna give her just what she needs.

spoiler alert: he fucks three very messy orgasms out of you that evening, and now he needs a new couch.

♡ with scumbagbf!toji

you would say that you don’t even know why you let a guy like toji fushiguro stake a claim over half of your bed—but that would be a lie. you know exactly why. and the answer is his fat fucking dick.

toji is a jackass. he’s rude, selfish, and eats all of your leftovers that you were looking forward to after work. and every time he does something to piss you off, you give him that “sensitive little silent treatment bullshit,” as he calls it. and he can deal with it at first, makes snide remarks about how he loves the peace and quiet, but after a few hours, he starts getting antsy. he watches with thighs spread wide and a beer in his hand as you maneuver around him in his seat on the couch, doing that angry, silent cleaning thing that you always do when you’re mad at him. the sports game playing on the tv is no longer of interest to him, much more entertained by the way your ass hangs out of those itty bitty shorts you always wear to clean. you’re bent over, putting away something or the other in a drawer when you suddenly feel the man you’re trying to ignore press up behind you. he’s got those meaty hands on your hips, grinding himself against your ass and goddamn it, why is he so fucking hard?

“y’gonna let me make it up to you, pussycat? or y’gonna stay pouting all day?”

and that’s how you ended up like this, half on the couch and half off, asshole spread and gaping around the overwhelming girth of toji’s cock. he’s supposed to be making it up to you, and yet, you’re doing all the work- knees and thighs burning as you fuck yourself back on the thickness splitting you open. you couldn’t help but to give in to his proposition. who wouldn’t when his cock sat so heavy and full in his boxer briefs, pressed up between your cheeks as he whispered insincere apologies coupled with kisses on your ear. he’ll meet your hips with his own thrusts when he feels like it, your eyes squeezing shut when he gets so deep inside it feels like he’s in your fucking stomach.

“thaaat’s it, pussycat, fuck yourself on my cock, jus’ like that. tell me you like my big dick in your ass,” he grunted, hand coming down to leave a smack on your jiggling flesh.

“mmh, i lo-ove your big fucking dick in my ass, baby,” you hiccup, looking back at the hulking man over your shoulder with your lip between your teeth. toji groans, pulling his cock out of your spasming hole. he grips your ass cheeks and spreads them apart, letting out a low “fuck” when he sees just how gaped your asshole is, watching as the ring of muscle struggles to return to its original shape and size. he maneuvers you into a new position, on your back on the couch with your knees shoved up to your chest. he barely gives you any time to get used to this new positioning before he’s flush with your hips, bulbous head of his hefty cock prodding at your stretched out hole.

“get ready, pussycat. you’re gonna squirt alllll over me before i’m done with this slutty little fuckhole of yer’s.”

and with his cock deep in your ass, his thumb merciless on your clit, you do exactly that. smug bastard.

♡ with husband!nanami

your husband spoiled you. he got you a big house, with a big yard full of flowers, a big kitchen that he uses to feed you, and a big bed that he makes love to you in. it was no different this morning, a sunday, just barely past 8am. he awakens first, curling his arm tighter around you as he pushes his face into your neck that’s bared so pretty for him. he doesn’t want to wake you—he’s enamored with you, with how peaceful and calm you look—but he’s losing the battle, cock stiff in his silk pajama pants and growing harder as he takes in your scent. you smell so good, and your skin is so soft, and your face is so fucking pretty, can you really blame him for getting worked up?

nanami loves you, his precious little wife, so he’s gentle with his need for you. he kisses the column of your throat and the line of your jaw so gently, nose nuzzling into your cheek as he slowly begins his grind into you. it isn’t long before you’re stirring in his arms, adoring smile on your face and a giggle leaving your lips at your husband’s early morning randiness. but god, he’s just so convincing, enticing you more and more as the press of his lips forms a path down to your chest, slipping the strap of your night down off of your shoulder to take a nipple into his mouth.

one thing about your dear husband that you’ve known for years, is that he loves to see your face while he’s inside of you. and that tradition is unchanging on this morning, now that he’s got you naked and writhing underneath him. he’s carving his way into you, shallowly thrusting but he’s just so long that he hits deep no matter how hard or softly he fucks you. hazel eyes peek at you through his thick lashes, still lavishing his tongue across the hardened peak of your tit. it’s always so good when it’s slow like this, when nanami gets to take his time making you fall apart.

“you feel s-so wonderful, darling..so wet for me, my perfect wife,” he moans against your breast. you’ve got one hand curled up into his hair and the other massaging your clit, unable to respond to his loving words with anything other than a hoarse moan of his name. his lips leave your nipple in favor of snatching your own up, driving his cock in and out of you with a bit more depth, more force. he can’t help but to start fucking you in earnest once he gets a taste of your lips, loves to swallow up those moans and cries as your manicured nails find their new residence on his muscular back and shoulders.

“hnng- god- kento! yes, baby, please, right there..right there,” you cry out to him, the sensation of his cock digging right into that fleshy little spot inside of you and his pelvis rubbing right up on your clit bringing you closer and closer to the edge. fuck, he’s so in love with you, so in love with the way your pussy grips him like he’s about to leave forever, but that would never happen. he’ll always be with you, could never love another like you, not when you smile at him so sweetly and run baths for him when he’s had a long, rough day. not when you let him fill you like this, not when you let him stuff you full of load after load of his cum, not when you tell him how much you love him when you cum together for the umpteenth time that morning alone.

>author’s_note: THANK YOU FOR 50 (KAJILLION) FOLLOWERS!!! Here’s to another 50, and so on 🥂

>>keep your eyes peeled for an upcoming announcement (psst- it’s the road to 100 followers series announcement 👀)

>thank you for reading ♡︎

>masterlist.exe

>send a request here!

© loko4koko 2023

[amoscontorta]

Sylus gets a headache | ao3 | other fics in this 'series'

Summary: Sylus has secured the promise from you that he can use your place as a safe house if he's in the area and needs it. Sylus's definition of "need", it turns out, might be different than your own, as illustrated by the first time he shows up unannounced at your door.

Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc, no use of y/n. This story contains: fluff, banter, Sylus has a hard time keeping his hands to himself, legal arguments, bad puns, self-indulgent writing, repetitive finger caressing, insomnia that Sylus is determined to vanquish by any means, Xavier is an innocent victim in all this and has no idea, except has Xavier ever been innocent in his entire life? CWs: insomnia, consumption of alcohol, profanity SFW, mostly. With some filthy innuendos at the end. It's Sylus, after all.

It has been a few days since you had the best night’s rest you can remember on the back of a certain miscreant crime lord’s motorcycle, and you’re once again preparing for a long, torturous night of staring at the ceiling and trying to catalogue all the classes of wanderers in an attempt to lull yourself to sleep—Nero’s suggestion. You have your doubts about whether it will work, but he gave the advice so earnestly after overhearing you talking to Tara about your insomnia that you feel obligated to give it a go. Sylus would probably scoff and say something about ‘people pleasing,’—you shake your head. That man does not get to live rent free in your brain, no matter how suspiciously kind he was the last time you saw him.

The kettle squeals, and you pour the boiling water into your chipped “World’s Greatest Hunter” mug that Caleb had gifted you once you were admitted into the Association’s ranks. The hot liquid steams soothingly into your face as it drowns a chamomile teabag, and you try not to think about the last time you saw him, when he was smiling. Patting your head. Whole, and so, so vibrantly alive. You take a deep, shaky breath.

After a suggestion from Tara, you add some honey and then slice a lime and squeeze the juice into the tea, absently stirring the spoon and gazing out your balcony window. You’re home early for once, and the sun is only just setting. You can’t see it through the high rises around you, but dusk filters down into the streets below your flat. The gentle sounds of the city moving into late evening drift up, the traffic like waves crashing on the shore, laughter and shop bells tinkling, a dog barking somewhere.

Suddenly, your doorbell chimes through your apartment and startles you out of your reverie. Did you forget that you had ordered something to be delivered today?

Without thinking too hard about it, you take your still piping-hot tea and pad to the foyer to answer the door.

Only to have your sense of calm shattered as you fling the mug out of sheer, instinctual self-preservation that Zayne accuses you of not having, when you see who is standing on the other side.

Quicker than your brain can actually process Sylus’s presence outside your flat, scarlet-night tendrils have prevented the mug from shattering on the floor, but have failed to stop the liquid from continuing its projectile path right onto his red, standing collar shirt and black vest.

“The fuck, Sylus?”

“You really, and I mean really, need to work on your greetings, kitten,” he tells you calmly, evol delivering the mug into his waiting hand while he holds the suitcase he has in the other hand away from his body to avoid being dripped on by his now soaked torso.

“Sorry, you were the last person I was expecting.” You wince, heart still threatening to beat its way out of your rib cage.

“Oh, expecting someone, are we?” he lifts a dark silver eyebrow.

“No, but least of all… you.” You flap your hand in his general direction. “What are you even doing here?”

“How about,” he drawls, “you let me in, and I’ll tell you. You wouldn’t want your neighbors to get curious and come to inquire about the mess I’m making on your doorstep, would you?”

You stare at him for a moment longer, trying to think of a way out of having him in your space, again, but you’re tired at the end of another long day, another long week, another long month and this whole entire fucking year. Trying to get rid of him will take more energy than just letting him do what he wants so that he’ll go away again. You run a hand down your face and shuffle aside.

He enters, and the scent of him fills the small foyer, warm and mouth-watering. He sets the briefcase and mug on the floor, removes his dress shoes and places them neatly by your own hastily-kicked-off boots next to the step leading into the rest of your flat. He then picks the mug back up and reads what’s written on it.

“World’s best hunter, indeed.” He snorts softly, eyes flicking from your face to your thin tank top and sleep shorts covered in grinning little bounce, bounce planet blobbus, to your bare feet. “Is this how the world’s greatest hunter always answers the door to unknown visitors?”

“It was a gift,” you say defensively, snatching the mug from him and cradling it to your chest. “And the only people who would be at my door this late is Xavier borrowing a cup of sugar for some doomed baking experiment, or a delivery person. I’m sure they’ve seen much worse than this,” you sweep your hand down your body in a dismissive flourish.

“Oh, I’m sure they’ve seen much worse.” Sylus frowns slightly.

“Yeah, so if they don’t like it, they’re welcome to move on to their next delivery.”

“Or buy their own sugar,” Sylus murmurs, reaching out to run a finger along your knuckles as you clutch the mug. “And who gave you this highly accurate mug?”

You hesitate, knowing that his face is going to do something complicated, like it always does, when you mention your family. But fuck it, he asked. If he doesn’t like the answer, he can also move on to whatever his next nefarious errand is. “Someone who was like a brother to me.”

“Brother, huh,” he says softly, still gently stroking your skin. “Well, he wasn’t wrong in this.” His hand falls back to his side. “Invite me all the way in, kitten. With your words,” he commands.

“And why should I do that? The deal was to let you come in. You’re in now. You don’t need to come in any further. Now it’s your turn to honor the deal. Why are you here?” You glare up at him, your foyer feeling minuscule with his big body and presence filling it.

“You offered me your place if I ever needed it,” Sylus narrows his glittering eyes. “I needed it today before you flung steaming liquid all over my clothes. And now I need it even more.” He looks pointedly down at the still-dripping clothes in question.

“What did you originally need it for?” You stall, the guilt of throwing a mug full—half! Half full! of tea at him starting to creep in.

“How about you invite me all the way into your home, with your words, help me take care of this mess you caused,” he waves a lazy finger at his torso, “and I’ll tell you.”

“But you already promised to tell me why you’re here in exchange for the initial value of me letting you in, and I let you in. I already paid. You can’t make me pay twice for the same goods,” you protest.

“Remind me to take you with me the next time I have contract negotiations. You’re more useful than my own legal counsel.” He pauses, considering you. “Circumstances have changed. Force majeure prevents me from fulfilling my original promise without requiring additional time and means to fulfil that promise. You owe me the opportunity to successfully deliver what I owe you.”

“What, exactly, is preventing you from telling me why you originally came to my home right here in my entryway?”

“The consequences of an unforeseeable natural disaster,” he answers with a little helpless shrug. “Namely, the trauma of nearly getting drowned in tea following almost being taken out by a mug launched with your god-like strength. Kitten, your assault is the equivalent of an act of god, and I can’t be responsible for the fact that I now need a dry shirt and a safe place to recover from the shock of almost being murdered by your tableware.”

You can’t help it. It has been so long since you’ve actually laughed out loud, so the noise that comes out of you doesn’t even sound human. You’re laughing, and you can’t stop. The affronted look on Sylus’s face in response to your ugly-snorts, causes you to laugh even more, and you’re suddenly bending over, holding your knees, laughing like you might die if you stop.

After a long moment, when you are finally able to breathe again, you straighten and find Sylus looking at you with a soft expression, one corner of his wide mouth slightly lifted… which is alarming. But you’re too filled with gratitude for the relief of laughing that his absurd exaggeration just gave you, so you refuse to think about anything at all too hard right now. You give in.

“Sylus, would you do me the honor of coming into my home? You can tell me what the hell you’re doing here after I find you a dry shirt.” You sarcastically bow as low as you can, your arms uplifted to gesture him forward.

“I suppose I can’t refuse such a graciously extended offer,” he says, as if resigned to a terrible fate, but his smile is smug and he wastes no time striding into your living room while unbuttoning his vest. He gently lays it over the back of your couch, and begins unbuttoning his shirt. You force yourself to stop staring as the pale skin slowly being revealed with each flick of his long fingers and head to your bedroom.

You paw through your chest of drawers, trying to find a shirt that will fit his broad shoulders and chest, but all you manage to do is make even more of a mess in your barely organized drawers. You stand, remembering the hoodie Xavier leant you after a recent, particularly messy battle on a chilly night. You move to your closet where you had hung it carefully to remind yourself to give it back to him after having washed it. You pull it from the hanger, turn around, and squeal loud enough to shatter glass.

Sylus is standing right behind you, chest bare, black slacks hung low around his narrow hips, and you did not heard him come in.

“I thought we were past the terror stage of our friendship, sweetheart,” he says, cocking his head, the same ruby stud earrings he was wearing at the club flashing in the light. “But that’s twice today that I’ve frightened you to the point of violence. Am I really that scary?”

“You keep… appearing, out of nowhere. A little warning would be appreciated,” you huff, heart pounding. You don’t know why you’re so nervous around him. Really. It has nothing to do with the broad expanse of creamy skin and pillowy man-tits shoved in your face at the moment. “And honestly, considering the fact that our friendship started with you choking me out and keeping me captive for days, it’s a wonder that I’m not more scared of you,” you flare, because yeah, how dare he act like you should be over the absolute shit-show of your first encounter, when you’ve hardly had any time to get to know him. That’s why you’re nervous. There is no other possible explanation. A couple friendly interactions do not make up for how much of an evil bastard he was when you first met him.

“Would you like me to wear a bell when I’m here, then?” he asks, conveniently ignoring the reminder regarding how he treated you not so long ago.

“How about you just stay out of my bedroom and stay where I can see you at other times,” you snap, feeling violent again at the intrusive thought of Sylus wearing a collar around his thick neck, cute little bell dinging every time he moved.

“I’ll do my best,” he says absently, clearly distracted by his thorough inventory of your bedroom as he takes in the tumbling plants in mismatched pots on floating shelves hanging over the unmade bed, the army of plushies scattered over the bunched up mountain of duvet and pillows. Your bed used to be your sanctuary. The place where you could find rest and relaxation after exhausting battles and long days squinting at the computer filing incident reports. Now it just gives you anxiety. You try to pull his attention away from the chaos of your former safe space by holding Xavier’s hoodie out for Sylus to take.

“Here, this might fit you.”

Sylus looks down at your offering, crosses his arms, and takes a step back, as if the hoodie is so offensive that it warrants recoiling physically from it. “That’s quite a big hoodie for you, even for days when you want to be comfortable,” he says evenly.

“It’s not mine, but it’s clean, and I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing I have right now that will fit you,” you say, shaking it a little in the universal, impatient gesture of just take it already for fuck’s sake.

“And who is its actual owner?”

“Xavier.”

“In the habit of wearing your partner’s clothing, are we?” he asks, still staring at it, the disdain now plain in his assessment of the sweatshirt.

“Uh, sometimes? We were on a mission recently and my jacket got torn to the point of uselessness, and it was cold. He let me wear his hoodie so I wouldn't be cold. It's been washed since then, so it's clean. I’ll just wash it again when you’re done using it before I return it. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

After what seems like a ridiculous amount of time for him to apparently make some mental calculations that only he will ever understand, he finally takes the soft hoodie from you, fingertips brushing yours as he grasps the fabric. You can’t figure out why he he suddenly looks more smugly evil than you’ve ever seen, with his lips curved up in a sardonic smirk. “Oh, of course, I’m sure he will not mind at all.” He pulls the hoodie over his head and shimmies a little as he drags it down is body; it’s a little tight around the shoulders, but you don’t think it’s tight enough to permanently stretch the fabric.

After it’s on, he tugs the collar up to his nose and inhales deeply.

“What are you doing?” you ask, as if you can’t see perfectly well what he is doing.

“It smells like you,” he answers, shameless, as if that is a perfectly reasonable answer to your question.

“Well, I did wear it, and wash it with my normal detergent and it has been hanging in my closet for a while, so…” your voice trails off.

“And soon it will smell like me too,” he continues, letting the collar fall with a satisfied flick of his fingers.

What even is this conversation? “Can you just be normal? For once?" A look of boredom is all the response you get, so you continue. "Now get out of my bedroom. Come tell me why you’re here in the first place.” You stride past him, making your way into the living room.

He follows you obediently and plops down on the couch, and just like last time, spreads his legs wide. This time, he is able to rest his arms on either side along the back of the couch, effectively occupying the whole damn thing. He sits quietly, looking at you expectantly.

You stand, arms folded, a safe distance away from the couch near the kitchen island.

“Well?” You prompt.

“It’s customary to offer your guest a refreshing beverage upon receiving them in your home. I believe I offered you wine the first time I hosted you in my own home.”

“Hosted?” He can’t be serious. “What a generous euphemism for ‘unlawfully imprisoned,’” you bite out.

“Po-tae-to,” he says serenely, “Po-tah-to.”

“Sylus,” you warn—about what, you’re not sure. He wants a beverage? Okay, perhaps you’ll fling more hot tea at him if he doesn’t start talking.

“Kitten.” He continues gazing at you, clearly in no hurry to move things along.

“If you don’t tell me, right now, why the hell you showed up at my place unannounced, I will report you as a burglar and have you removed by the authorities.”

“But then how will you explain to Xavier why I’ve been arrested wearing his sweater?” he asks, eyes wide, all concern for what your partner’s thoughts on the matter would be, and what they would mean for you.

“Burglars have been known to be creeps and go rooting through their victims’ closets and wearing their clothes! I’ll just say you were wearing it when I got here. Maybe he’ll be worried that it’s him you’re actually interested in harassing,” you snicker, trying to picture Xavier’s reaction.

As you’re speaking, Sylus pulls out his phone and fiddles with it with a bored expression on his face.  

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I boring you? Perhaps you should go find something more interesting to do and leave me in peace,” you grind out after you’ve finished and notice his complete lack of attention.

Your irritation is interrupted by a notification on your phone. Since Sylus is so busy messing with his, you grab yours from where it has been lying on the counter since before Sylus interrupted your peaceful evening staring out into the city. You see that you have a new message from… the man currently oozing across the entirety of your couch, head lolled to the side and watching you with a hint of amusement curving his mouth.

You open the chat, and your eyes widen at the conversation that never fucking happened currently loading into your chat history, with time stamps corresponding to when Sylus showed up at your door.

You: Oh Sylus, my big, handsome partner in crime, I think there’s an intruder in my flat and I’m so scared!

The Sytuation: What makes you think theres an intruder in your home, kitten? Im on my way.

You: There is sugar missing from my pantry! I just bought a new bag yesterday, and it’s gone! Oh please, my dark knight, come protect me from the sugar thief who should buy his own sugar and stop coming to my place to pilfer mine!

The Sytuation: Of course, sweetie. Go wait by the door, Ill be there in 5.

“What. Is. This. Fuckery,” you demand, thrusting your phone in his face.

He shrugs. “You threatened to lie about why I’m here in a bid to get rid of me. Did you not expect me to counter your move to ensure that no one will believe you?” he pauses, and then narrows his eyes. "Did you really save me in your phone as 'The Situation,' with a Y?"

"Punny, right? My phone doubles as my work phone. You really think I'm going to save your real name in my contacts? I might as well just save you as 'Sylus Qin, leader of Onychinus, most wanted criminal in the N109 zone," you grumble. "And trust me, that's the nicest name I could come up with."

"Punny," he repeats derisively, unimpressed.

“And don't derail. What is this nonsense about a sugar thief?” You wave the phone again.

“Your colleague should learn to stock his own pantry if he wants to engage in… what did you call them? Doomed baking experiments?”

“How did you even… why does it look so real?” You gaze down at the texts that look so authentic that if they hadn’t been filled with such bullshit, you’d be doubting your own sanity about whether the conversation had really happened.

“You’re really surprised that faking evidence, alibis and dirt on my opponents is a part of my vast skill set? I’m hurt that you underestimate me so.” He looks at you like he’s disappointed, a little pout pulling down his stupid beautiful mouth.

“For fuck’s sake.” You’re done. The longer you resist, the longer Sylus will be in your flat, driving you up the wall. “Fine. Fine!” You set your phone down again and throw up your hands. “What do you want to drink, Sylus?”

“Two fingers of gin, if you have it. Or brandy. Or vodka.” He thinks for a moment. “I’m not feeling too picky tonight.”

“I don’t keep hard liquor in my house, you alcoholic. I have a half-open bottle of rosé in the fridge. Will that satisfy his lordship?” You turn resignedly to trod your way to your fridge.

“What vineyard and vintage?” he asks, perking up.

You open the fridge and pull out the bottle. You squint at the label. “I dunno. It has a cute fish on the label, so I bought it.”

He looks at you like you just murdered Mephisto, and you begin pouring the pink liquid into another mug. This one says UNT on the side in big block letters, matching the size of the handle so that when you hold it, the handle looks like a matching C. You walk back to where he’s sitting, and you think that maybe your smile looks as smug as Sylus’s usually does when you hand him his drink.

He takes the mug from you, snorts when he reads the side, and then look at its contents dubiously for a moment.

“You taste it first,” he finally says, looking back up at you.

“Worried I poisoned it?” You’re still grinning.

“As you say,” he says, tilting his head.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t demand beverages from people you don’t trust then.”

“I trust you, just not your taste in wine after learning you choose bottles based on the cuteness of the label. Indulge me,” he murmurs. “Prove to me that you’re willing to drink it, and that it’s not just swill you’re trying to get rid of by offering it to me.”

You take the mug from him and lift it to your lips, taking a sip, watching him over the rim as you swallow. His nostrils flair, and he lifts his hand in a gesture for you to return it to him. Instead of giving it back, you take one more big gulp, and his brow furrows. Only after you've slowly swallowed again do you comply, relishing the warmth spreading through your body as you lower the mug for him to take. He brushes your fingers again as he takes it back. He turns the mug, so that his mouth hovers where yours just was. He then closes his eyes and inhales, gently swirling the liquid inside. Eyes still closed, he takes a sip.

After a moment, he sighs. “Thank you. This is actually not bad, for a rosé.”

“You’re such a snob,” you smile down at him, irrationally pleased that he seems so pleased.

“Life is too difficult, and too short, to waste on inferior experiences. I only like tasting the best,” he says, bright red eyes opening and fixing on you.

He looks up at you like you should be able to draw some deeper meaning from his words, but you’re tired, warm from the wine, and despite how much he winds you up you were just moments ago, right now you’re strangely relaxed for the first time in days.

“Tell me why you’re here, Sylus,” you say quietly.

“You told me I could use your place when I needed it,” he says, just as softly. He takes another drink, rolls it around in his mouth. Swallows, his adam’s apple dipping.

“And why did you need it this evening?”

“I had some negotiations regarding a business acquisition that I’m considering in this part of Linkon City, and they were abhorrently boring. By the time they were over, I had a splitting headache, and the sunlight didn’t help. It would have been unsafe to operate a motor vehicle under those conditions, so I thought I’d come and wait for it to pass in my newest ‘safe house,’ he answers gravely, as if getting a headache was a perfectly logical reason to crash your evening and take over your couch. “Wouldn’t want to endanger the innocent citizens of Linkon City with reckless driving, now would we?”

“Aren’t all of your shady business deals done under the cover of darkness? Why were you here at a meeting during the day?”

He’s holding the mug in one hand by his fingertips now, along the rim, slowly swirling it. He crosses one long leg over the other and answers languidly. “You’re assuming that today’s business was ‘shady.’”

“So your business today was legitimate?” You’ve been standing for awhile now, and begin to shift from bare foot to bare foot.

He hums in acknowledgement. “My business interests are as varied as they are successful. You insult me by looking so surprised.”

“Well I would never want to insult you,” you drawl. “So that’s it? You got a headache and decided you’d crash my evening?”

He nods, touching his temple and grimacing. “It’s still pretty bad, to be honest.”

“The daylight bothers you that much?” you ask, genuinely curious. You have always assumed that it was the nature of his occupation and perhaps just a proclivity for being a night owl that explained his nocturnal existence, but now you’re wondering if it’s not something deeper that has him avoiding it as much as possible.

You finally decide to give your tired feet a break and perch on the little corner of couch cushion that has been freed for use by Sylus crossing his legs. “If sunlight bothers you that much, what could possibly be so important to come out in it today?”

“Are you really asking about the details of my business ventures, sweetheart?” he asks in what you suspect is feigned astonishment.

“And if I am?”

“Then I’ll tell you,” he responds easily.

“Then I am.”

“I’m in discussions for acquiring a chain of entertainment venues in Linkon City.” He leans his head on the couch’s backrest and lets it roll to the side to keep looking at you. He catches the look of disgust that is no doubt obvious on your face.

“Entertainment venues,” you say flatly.

“Yes. Is there something wrong with that?”

“What kind of … entertainment venues?” you ask, hating yourself for wanting to know. It’s his business if he wants to buy porn shops, or strip clubs, or brothels—your stomach twists, and you refuse to consider why.

“What kind of ideas are racing through that fascinating brain of yours?” he asks, reaching up and running two of his fingers along your temple, brushing your hair away from your eyes.

“Nothing,” you bite out, turning your face away from his touch. You normally dislike how you have a hard time concealing how you’re feeling, but you particularly hate it right now.

“Mmhmm,” he murmurs. “Then, to answer your question, it’s a chain of arcades.”

Your brain grinds to a halt. Did he just say—

“Arcades?”

He nods, and winces, closing his eyes. You’re starting to believe that his head is actually hurting him, and you feel bad for throwing dishware and hot tea at him and refusing to offer him more than the one drink he asked for.

“Why would you be interested in acquiring an arcade chain?”

“Even for odious crime lords, it’s always wise to have a diversified business portfolio.”

You have called him a lot of things both out loud and in your head, but you’d never call him odious. Odorous, perhaps, when he’s sweating heavily after being riddled with bullets. But you have to suppress the urge to chastise him about talking about himself that way.

“Which chain is it?”

“You probably don’t know it,” he says, as if bored with the question. “It’s not a very large chain, but large enough for my interests.”

“Try me! I love going to the arcade when I have some free time. I mean, you’ve seen my plushie collection now that you invited yourself into my house,” you bounce a little on the couch.

“You invited me, kitten. You’ve had a choice, each and every time.”

“Don’t deflect! Answer the question!” You’re quite excited about this. Maybe if it’s a place you know, that has a location nearby, he’ll give you a discount if he ends up buying them? Like an employee discount or something. Is that ethical? You should check the Association’s employee handbook for conflicts of interest.

He squints, as if preparing to evaluate your reaction, and names your favorite place to play the claw machine.

“For real? You’re really going to buy them?”

“I still have to review the contract that was proposed during today’s discussions with my legal counsel, but if negotiations are successful, then yes,” he says, casually examining his nails.

Your excitement is hard to contain, but you suddenly have a troubling thought. “You’re not going to change anything, right? Like, that place is perfect as it is, and the employees are all really friendly and helpful and clearly work hard to keep it really nice,” you rush out, worried that he’s planning to reduce the staff  or try to jack up the prices for a larger profit margin.

He turns to look at you again, and doesn’t answer for long enough that you’re really starting to worry. But then he says softly, “No, I’m not going to change a thing.”

“Oh? So they’re doing well? It’s a solid financial investment?” You’re so relieved, safe in the knowledge that your plushies will continue to be accessible, insofar as claw machines by design allow them to be.

Sylus laughs softly. “Yes, the financials all look good. Considering your interest in the nature of binding agreements, would you like to look over the purchase agreement with me? I have it with me.”

“I’d actually really like to, but I’m starting to get really tired,” you yawn, the relief you were just feeling—the relief of knowing that Sylus wasn’t up to anything that would leave a blood trail today, relief that he didn’t come tonight to try to force you to resonate or finally kill you for refusing to do so, and most importantly, relief that he wasn’t going to acquire and ruin one of the little pleasures in your life—all of it is now drowned out by a heavy feeling of pleasant drowsiness.

“Then I’ll read it to you, until you fall asleep.”

“Huh? You want to stay?”

“Yes,” he says, hauling himself to his feet and offering you his hand. You take it in confusion, and he lifts you to your feet as well. He sets the now empty mug on your coffee table, and then places his hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you from behind to your bedroom.

“Why?” you ask, not even thinking to object.

“Headache, remember?” He pushes you gently by your shoulders so that you’re sitting on your bed.

“How can you review legalese when you’re suffering from a headache?” You sink into the softness of the mattress.

“Why don’t you let me worry about that?” he says, nudging you until you’ve scooted to the middle of the bed. “Don’t move. I’m going to get my tablet out of my briefcase.” He disappears through the doorway, and you’re left sitting on your bed, surrounded by all of your plushies, and you have no idea what’s happening. You’re just too tired to argue with him. You really did miscalculate by spending all of your energy trying to get rid of him when he first arrived.

But just because you’re bone-tired, doesn’t mean you’re going to let him boss you around. You get off the bed and pad into the kitchen, passing him as he snaps his briefcase shut, tablet in hand.

“I distinctly recall telling you not to move,” he gripes, pushing up an elegant set of gold framed glasses perched on the uneven bridge of his nose with a middle finger. Huh, you didn’t know he needed glasses to read. He looks almost … cute wearing them, a little less feral. Like a leopard wearing a monocle.

Suppressing the thought of Sylus and cute in the same sentence, you ignore him, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water. Then you rummage through your most chaotic kitchen drawer for a few moments, before triumphantly pulling out what you were looking for.

You pad back over to where he’s still watching you, and offer him the glass and the half-used blister pack of over-the-counter painkillers you fished out of your chaos drawer. “Here.”

He looks down at your hands, offering him what you hope is some relief from his headache. His face is impassive, and you’re worried he assumes you’re trying to poison him again. But then he tucks the tablet under one arm, and reaches out with both hands to grasp the glass and the pill pack—except he doesn’t take them from your hands. He envelops yours with his, and pulls you gently closer to him. He somehow manages to pop two tablets out of the pack with his thumb, and they drop into your curved palm. Still holding your hand, he leans down to sweep them from your skin with his tongue. In a complete daze, you watch him lift the glass that you’re still holding to his lips, and he takes a long pull of water, washing the pills down, all the while holding your gaze with his. When he’s done, he slowly lowers your hands again.

“Thank you,” he murmurs “For the benevolence of your heart.” He says it gravely, as if you’ve just saved his life instead of giving him some headache medicine.

“You’re welcome,” you whisper, feeling like you’ve been struck by a truck after… whatever that was, feeling the warmth of his tongue in the palm of your hand like he was still licking it. Sylus then turns and heads back to your bedroom.

You set the glass and the now-empty pill pack on the kitchen island, thinking you’ll clean up tomorrow if you manage to sleep tonight, and follow him.

In the bedroom, Sylus sits, leaning back against your headboard, having needed to gently scoop some plushies out of the way to make room. He stretches his legs out in front of him with a sigh. He looks so soft, wrapped in the white hoodie, silver hair rumpled, surrounded by pillows and cute little plushies.

It’s getting increasingly difficult to remember that the man currently sinking into your duvet and wiggling his sock-covered toes in contentment is the same man who straight up exploded the man who dared kidnap you, and then proceeded to kidnap you himself after choking you to the point of passing out. You try to hold both of these truths about him in your mind at the same time, but the image of Sylus dancing you gently through a press of bodies, of the way he caresses your fingers at every opportunity, the soft slide of his tongue along your palm—these images are conquering every other version of him that you know to be true in your mind. You wonder briefly if this is part of some larger scheme of his, and what his endgame could possibly be. But right now, you’re too fucking tired to care.

“What is even happening,” you ask. You’re exhausted, but you still have enough mental reserves to question how you got here, in this situation, with this man migrating from vanquishing your couch to a large part of your bed. “Is the coffee table, or kitchen table insufficient for your needs? Why are you going to review the paperwork here, on my bed?”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how quickly you fell asleep on my back on the motorcycle the other night, sweetheart. I’m just reading you a bedtime story featuring limitations of liability and allocation of risk so that you can finally get some sleep again.” He pats his thigh. “Here.”

You just stare at him. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he warns, tapping his thigh again with one long finger. Just for that, you glare mutinously at him and fold your arms over your chest.

He sighs again, this time in exasperation, and leans over, firmly lifting you and setting you down so that your head is pillowed against his meaty thigh. He begins to run his fingertips gently up and down the middle of your back. He returns his attention to his tablet. “Now listen carefully,” he commands, before flicking the screen with his thumb and beginning to read in his softly in his deep, rich voice.

But of course you don't. You fall asleep as the skyscrapers light up like a dragon's hoard of jewels in the night sky outside your window, to the sounds of Sylus’s quiet recitation of indeed, a terribly boring contract, and the whisper of his fingers along your skin.

When you wake up, there is another black feather on your pillow, and you are alone. You yawn, once again feeling unbelievably rested despite the chaos Sylus always brings to your door and into your life. You stretch leisurely, spreading your arms wide and turning your head on the pillow, when something catches in your earlobe. You reach up and run your fingers along a stud earring that was not there when you fell asleep. You feel your other earlobe, but it's empty. You grab your phone from the nightstand, knocking over a semiautomatic hand pistol with scarlet flames engraved along the grip that you also don't remember owning onto the floor. You stare at it briefly, ready to commit murder if you check it and find that the safety isn't on. But first things first: you put the phone camera in selfie mode and lift it to your face, but quickly lower it again after confirming that it is indeed a ruby stud in your ear, sparkling cheekily in the morning sunlight.

Later, you're relieved to find that Sylus did actually leave the safety on on your new little ... toy, and you'll find that the mugs have been washed and set neatly away, the empty pack of painkillers placed in the recycling bin. You also see that various takeout containers and other debris that had piled up on a lot of surfaces in your place are also gone, and the countertops are clean, the coffee and kitchen table gleam in the early morning sunlight. You don't notice that the white hoodie is nowhere to be found, until you meet up with Xavier later in the day. He's wearing one that looks exactly like it.

"Thanks for returning the hoodie," he yawns. "But you really didn't have to."

You pause, feeling a thread of panic start to wind its way through your stomach. You decide to just... go with it. "Oh? You found it okay?"

"Yeah, but why did you just leave it hanging from my door handle? You could have rung and come in. I had a new limited edition bag of those cookies you were looking at in the corner store last week. I would have shared some with you... but now I've eaten them all," he admits sheepishly, big blue eyes shimmering with guilt.

You try to think fast. Did Sylus give back the hoodie without washing it? What the fuck was he thinking? He could have been seen! Does this flat have surveillance footage? Does Xavier suspect anything? You realize that you still haven't answered Xavier's question as your panic spirals. "Oh, you know, didn't want to wake you up," you flap your hands, as if you can flap this entire situation right out of your messy life.

"Well, I don't know what you did to it, but it feels brand new. As if it's never even been washed. And you somehow got out the bbq sauce stain that no matter how much I sprayed it with that stain remover stuff would never come out. So you're going to have to teach me some of that laundry magic," he says contentedly, snuggling further into the entirely new hoodie that you now realize Sylus must have somehow, over the course of the night, had hand-delivered to Xavier's place. "Uh huh," you say absently, pulling out your phone to furiously text Mr. Asshat when you see that he has also changed his name in your contact list.

You: What the hell did you do with Xavier's hoodie?"

My Sy: It doesnt matter who it belonged to before me. All that matters is that its mine now.

You: It doesn't even fit you properly! You're too big for it!

My Sy: Nothing a little size training cant fix.

Your jaw drops. He cannot be implying what you think he's implying. This is your filthy mind at work. You decide that you will simply pretend this conversation never happened. Absolutely nothing good can come from trying to figure out what the fuck is going through Sylus's head at any given moment.

You: And 'My Sy?' Really?

My Sy: Its not punny, but it rhymes. And its accurate. Gotta put the phone down for a bit, kitten. Business requires my attention. Ill be seeing you soon.

You stare at his last message for long enough that Xavier asks if you're okay. You're not. You're not okay. You couldn't even bring yourself to ask him about the other earring, or the gun. You just slowly slip your phone back into your cargo pants pocket and try very hard to stop thinking, for the rest of the day.

[ask-hazbinhotel]

Bill Cipher x gn!reader

Content: Pussy eating, Bill's eye tongue, Bill is a freak, it's 2:42am and I don't know what the hell to title this

Bill was quiet for a moment, taking in the sight of your legs spread out in front of him, your pussy on full display. In a swift motion, his tongue flicked out of his eye, licking a stripe over the sensitive bundle of nerves and coating his tongue with your slick. A small gasp left your lips, encouraging the triangular demon to continue, slowly sliding his tongue inside of you.

"Bill.." You responded in a breathy tone, watching with a flushed face as he moved the slippery appendage around inside of you. You started to chant his name like a prayer, your thighs instinctively pressing together at the overwhelming pressure building up inside of you. Bill laughed, his hands gripping your thighs and keeping them apart as he continued to devour you. He put his tongue as deep inside of you as it would go, his eye pressed right up against your soaking wet hole as he started to eat you out like there was no tomorrow. Your whines turned into screams as you gripped the sides of the mattress, your eyes practically rolling into the back of your head as you felt the knot in your stomach break, covering Bill in your juices.

Bill pulled his tongue out at a teasingly slow pace, making eye contact with you as the appendage cleaned all of the sticky white liquid off of him.

"My, my, that was delicious." He spoke in an amused tone, his eye looking you up and down. You were a shaking, panting mess, and Bill just sat there, drinking in the sight before he spoke again, his tone darkening slightly.

"Ohoho.. we're just getting started."

[xazse]

HELLO!!! I saw that your requests are open!! I love sukuna hybrid tiger or lion x a really sensitive bratty reader(fem or gn) smut

Reader is really sensitive and crys if someone says no to something reader wants or just because someone said something mean.

AM REALLY SORRY IF YOU DON'T SMUT OR FEM READER MY INTERNET IS REALLY SLOW.

THANK YOU IF YOU DECIDE TO DO THIS♡

Notes: I hope you enjoy this<33 (sorry if this was a little rushed)

Parings: Sensitive!FemReader x TigerHybrid!Sukuna

Warnings: HeienEra!Sukuna/four arms + crybaby!reader + licking + two cocks + crying + penetration + creampie

TigerHybrid!Sukuna loves his little crybaby!

an effort to get him to get you that jewel you’ve been hearing about from travelers telling their tales, he continues to tell you that such a thing doesn’t exist and to quit being a bother, you stop for a moment and he can already hear the sniffles in your voice, he can see the waterworks decorating your waterline, it’s not long before the fat tears start running down your cheeks.

“Such a crybaby, why do you insist that that jewel actually exists?” He sighs before continuing “that’s just a tale for stupid humans, last time I recalled you’re a human but you aren’t stupid.” He uses two of his four arms to place you in his lap facing him.

He begins using his thick tongue to lick at the tears falling freely, his tongue is rough and hurts a bit as he even licks over your eyes. Your attempt to push him off of you is met with him pulling you into his chest deeper and wrapping his tri-colored tail around your waist, he won’t stop licking till your tears stop.

TigerHybrid!Sukuna who despises having to eat human food but has to appease to you.

It’s so gross as it makes his way down his throat, he feels the need to gag and throw the shit up but in your presence he won’t. He loves the content look on your face as you sit so close to him enjoying your own food, he’ll even let you spoon feed him on rare occasions.

TigerHybrid!Sukuna whose cocks throbs when you have to take both.

You’ll literally whine when he’s using his thick fingers to pry open your hole and your pussy, he says he needs to or it’ll hurt a tenthfold. He takes full advantage though: using his tongue as well to collect all your juices and stretch you out.

He loves the feeling of you clenching around the digits so tight, you’re moaning loudly and lewdly he’s sure the entire estate can hear just how good he’s making you feel, but it’s nothing compared to when he’s fitting his fat cocks inside of you.

He’s finally done prepping you and needs to be balls deep inside. He grabs his 2nd cock and presses it against the entrance of your pussy, the soaked hole is already slurping up his tip fully. He can hear you taking deep breaths of air as he pushes and pushes inside, your cunt is so damn snug and already twitching needy around him. It’s when he takes his other cock and begins pushing it inside of your ass do you start up your crying. He can already picture how ruined you already are.

Sukuna presses his full weight on your back, successfully pining you against the bed. He’s waited all day for this so he starts moving his hips rather fastly, his cocks filling you to the brim just to be snatched out fully and fitted right back in. The mix of your crying and moaning sounds so good. He has to hold you still to contain your shaking twitchy body, you always get like this when both are ruining your small holes.

Sukuna can’t help himself when he begins biting your neck, he tries to keep his sharp teeth under control as to not draw blood like last time, he also soothes you with his soft purring.

He starts grinding his hips down against your ass, angling his hips downward he starts hitting your sweet spot directly, all these years he’s learned your body perfectly like a piano. It has you breathless, and obviously mewing for more through a teary voice, he gives you just that: rubbing your little bud, your folds are slippery but he manages to slide over your clit over and over.

Your cunt and ass flutters around his cock , feels so fucking good you can’t help but slur out.

Sukuna slams against you one last time before filling you with thick ropes of his cum, he sighs and stops for a minute and exactly a minute before holding your body down and moving his hips again, Your TigerHybrid is the type to cum quickly but able to keep shooting round after round inside you. That’s why you find it exhausting to take both of his cocks, he gets too excitable to where you’re going until the sun comes up.

[lotus-slumbers]

Hi! I saw your requests were open, so I was wondering if you could write a yandere batfam where they kidnap the reader, but the reader is like, super chill about it, and the family’s reaction to this. Tysm!

🪼 anon

A Gentle Place to Land (Yandere! Batfam x Accepting! GN Reader)

Content warning: yandere themes, obsession, mentions of mental illness, mentions of loss of personal anatomy and drugging. Etc.

A gentle breeze caresses you, the sunlight a gentle kiss.

Here, you could experience such a thing. A thing so close to tranquility you would almost dare to say it was. Most, if ever put in your situation, would be losing their minds. Panicking. Begging and pleading with all they could to try and change their fate. To escape.

You knew such a thing wasn't possible. You knew it from the night they had taken you. Looking into the shadowy eyes of the cowl, before the dart had punctured the tender place below your ear and the drugs entered your system, turning the world dark and dreamless.

You knew. If not the fates, they had decided and that was more than you could fight.

But it was a lot better than it had seemed.

At first, it was a ploy. Trick your captors into believing you're not going to do anything stupid and build repor to get them attached so that they won't do anything too bad to you. Hopefully, gaining their trust enough to plot an escape and succeed.

Just like those movies and true crime TV shows you've seen; comply and wait it out, wait for your chance at freedom.

Your feelings started getting mixed up really soon after. Had you forgotten about what Stockholm Syndrome was or had you been blind to the truth in the first place?

Maybe it really wasn't that bad...

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

An almost comically large sunhat place over top your head, feet propped up on the end of the chair and a cold drink in hand. You didn't even care for the sets of eyes lingering on you, you were used to strange people giving you strange looks as you went about your day in Gotham.

They know this isn't a normal person's reaction and they're worried, most waiting for this little peace to be completely discarded once the shock of the situation passes and you truly understand what has happened. Others are trying to pick apart your phycology to see if maybe, just maybe, something really is different up in that head of yours.

You? Well, you're just sipping on your cool drink before the heat makes the ice melt. You don't want Alfred's signature juice cocktail (non-alcoholic, of course, because you'll probably never be seeing a drop of that in your life again) to get watered down and ruined.

"Are we sure we didn't give then to much of that— um," Tim stalled for a moment, giving your impartial face a once over before deciding the trajectory of his sentence. "—sleeping medicine? Maybe it messed with their nervous system or something?"

"I hate to admit it but I think Drake is onto something here. I mean, who in their right mind would ever submit to this tomfoolery? Willingly being stuck with you all? Father and I, I can understand, but—"

"I never thought you'd ever agree with Tim," Jason grinned, making Damian's face turn sour.

Dick moved behind your seat, leaning down and squishing your face between his hands.

"Nothing's wrong with them!"

You gave a bright, closed eye smile that only served to further concern the man watching from the nearby window.

His butler placed a hand on his shoulder when he gave an exhausted sigh. Although, the makings of a smile did seem to tug at the corners of his lips.

"I'll make another therapy appointment, Master Bruce."

Should he be concerned about your nonchalant appearance or was it just your nature? Has some trauma happened to you previously to make you this way? Was it a trick that he was just having trouble seeing through?

Or was he overthinking this all again? Instead of overthinking it and coming up with more safety measures and plans to keep all the way he envisioned, he should be out there with his kids.

Even if it was just all a trick, there was no way you could manage to outsmart or outrun all six of them.

Bruce shook his head, sitting his drink down on the counter and heading towards the door.

"Don't bother."

[decojellyfish]

So we saw Guard dog! ghost and kitten! reader

Rescued fighting dogs! Ghost and Soap with cat! reader

how about we get some of Price adopting a puppy! reader and reader having to learn the ropes from Older dogs! Ghost, Soap, and Gaz(maybe??)?

or just Price rescuing another former fighting dog! reader and them being all defensive against former fighting dogs! Ghost, Soap and Gaz(maybe??), maybe even fighting against them when they(soap) try to get too close for reader’s comfort

Thank you so much for being my second request!! I decided to go with the second prompt you offered me, and I had fun writing it! I just don't have fun making you guys cry because, fair warning, this one is gonna be angstyyy... 😔 But I hope you guys enjoy!

------

Bite

Hybrid AU! TF141 Retired Fight Dog! Gaz, Ghost, and Soap x Retired Fight Dog! GN! Reader x Owner! Price Reader is only addressed as ‘you’

SFW ~ Angst

Warnings: Brief/occasional swearing, mentions of abuse, depression, extreme violence, trauma

───♡───────────── Beginning Your body ached. You didn’t know if it was because you were starving, or if it was your muscles and joints crying out for help from your most recent fight. It was a couple of hours ago, and it was rough. Your previous owner had disowned you when he found a new pup to use and abuse for profit. Part of you was happy, the years of abuse and ruthless training were over. The other part of you was absolutely terrified. You had no more food, no treats, no worn-out bed for you to sleep on, and no roof over your head.

You’d been homeless for nearly a year. You gave up on keeping exact track months ago. Your slightly sunken stomach never ceases its eternal growl, constantly yearning for food. Dumpster diving has become a part of your lifestyle. You had managed to find some food, albeit moldy and/or coated in garbage juices, but it was still food. ‘Food is fight fuel’ was constantly echoing through your head, while you fought off the sickness going through your head as realization set in that you were literally eating garbage. Sometimes, you even wondered if food was even worth it. You weren’t fighting as much as you used to. Sometimes you were suddenly assaulted by other stray fighter dogs as well, forcing you to live in constant paranoia, anxiety, and a never-ending feeling like you had to fight.

There were times that you even lashed out at strangers because of this constant fear. Domesticated dogs would find themselves abruptly thrown into a fight when you were around. They would leave with scratches, bites, bruises, and even chunks of flesh missing due to your fierce bite. In the underground fighting scene, you were most known for how gnarly the wounds from your bites would be.

This would result in animal control being called on you. But you’d evaded them countless times, which meant that you were far from where you originally came from. You would bounce from alley to alley, town to city. You were far from home if you could even call where you came from ‘a home’.

Though you were far from old enemies, you still made new ones. You were so used to lashing out that you were still getting into fights, but now you were getting into fights with fight dogs you didn’t even know.

Some days, you were tired. So tired, you just wanted to lay in your current alleyway and just rot. Let the bugs eat away at you, sometimes you even want to turn yourself into the pound. At least there you would have food in your belly and a semi-warm place to sleep. On other days, you were mad. So mad, you just wanted to paint the town red with any kind of blood, even your own.

Today was a tired day. You were lying against a wall, it was raining. Rain would be the closest you had to being bathed. Your rotted clothes were soaked and falling apart, your hair sticking to your face and skin as you stared at the opposing wall. Your eyes had nothing behind them, you were lost in your little world. Your happy place.

You imagined yourself in a cabin, or a cottage, just somewhere secluded and cozy. You had a loving partner, and pups of your own to take care of. A garden in the backyard, full of fruit, vegetables, and herbs. A flower garden in the front yard, full of daffodils, tulips, rose bushes, and trumpet lilies. You wore soft clothes like they were made of clouds. In your happy place, you were warm. In your happy place, you were safe.

Unfortunately, you were ripped out of your happy place by a smell. A familiar smell. Multiple familiar smells. Your heart had already started to beat rapidly, and the sense of adrenaline you had when in the fighting ring was coming back, slapping you in the face. You shifted your position from laying back against a wall to standing up and ready to fight, your teeth already beginning to show and a low growl slowly leaving your throat.

Familiar smells were never good, it meant that someone who had been made an enemy was close. Another fight was about to happen. You could hear men chatting with each other, though it was muffled by the ringing in your ear as your brain was now filled with nothing but adrenaline, panic, and one word. Fight.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Price was going on his weekly walk with his boys, all rescues. His home had become somewhat of a mini rehabilitation center. His pups, although fully grown dogs, were his pride and joy to be around. Gaz was his first rescue about seven years ago, Soap was rescued about two years after Gaz, and Ghost had been rescued three years before today. Price, himself, was a retired military veteran.

He enjoyed going on walks with his pups, he found it to be a nice bonding experience. Although today was rainy, it didn’t stop the group from following tradition. Gaz loved the rain, the sound and the feeling of raindrops hitting windows, umbrellas, or even himself was beyond calming for him. Soap didn’t particularly like rain, it mostly made him think of those unbelievably sad scenes in movies that involved rain, like an intense breakup. Ghost was neutral about it.

But Ghost found himself focused on something else, a smell. He glanced over at Soap, who could also smell this sudden scent. “Stop.” Ghost spoke firmly, grabbing Price’s shoulders and looking at the rest of the group. “Stay here, I smell something.” “Ghost, I don’t want you getting hurt-“ Price protested, only to be interrupted by Soap. “Stay, somethin’s here tha’ could rip out your throat.”

Gaz was worried as well, even though the scent wasn’t as familiar to him as it was to Ghost and Soap. He could smell a large amount of adrenaline and even panic or fear mixed in.

Ghost slowly walked up to the scent source and braced himself, slowly watching as a familiar face came into view. The two of you had been through plenty of fights together, each parting putting up a massive fight. You were snarling at him when he approached you, your body unconsciously moving closer to the wall, further away from him as he grew closer. Your hollow, starved appearance had him taken aback. You looked terrible. You were coated in scabs, bruises, and open wounds that had miraculously not gotten infected.

Your heart was beating so fast, that both you and Ghost could hear it. He had his hands up, his palms open as he showed he wasn’t looking for a fight. That didn’t stop you though. All you could see was all those fights, years ago. Ghost snarling back at you before he would nearly tear a chunk out of you while you almost ripped both of his ears off. You lunged at him with a loud bark, tackling him as you began to scratch and bite at him.

The group was startled, and terrified. They would all run to Ghost as they tried to get this rabid dog off of him. Of course, four men against you was an unfair fight and you were swiftly removed from the fight.

Soap held you against the ground, crouching over you as he pinned both of your arms behind your back as you continued to snarl and attempt to bite. You panted and stared at them with wide eyes, mostly focusing on Ghost and Soap since they were enemies from the past.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me, aren’t you..?” You spoke shakily, to either of the boys. Soap could feel how strong and deep your breaths were as you hyperventilated.

All the men shared a glance of worry, Soap spoke up, “We’re not those dogs anymore.” Ghost would nod in shared agreement. “You don’t look so good, since the last time I saw you.” He looked down at you, noting how your stomach churned from hunger, how tired your eyes were, and your slightly raspy breath. Even your recent wounds worried him, some nearly looking like early stages of infection.

You grunted as you struggled under him, “Yeah, well, ‘m happy to see you guys living the high life.” You grumbled, the other dogs’ ears twitching as they heard a slight crack in your voice. You couldn’t ignore it, you were jealous. They didn’t look as tired as they did at your last fight, not on edge all the time, they looked well fed, and they smelled good too. And worst of all, what made you want to lash out at all of them, even their owner, was the fact that they looked happy with this new life. The life that you desired that always seemed to be out of reach.

All the men looked back at Price, Gaz included, with one question in their eyes. ‘Can we keep them?’

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taking you back to their home was a fight in it of itself. You couldn’t help but be scared. Maybe they were all tricking you, maybe they were gonna lock you up in their house and sell you off to another owner in the underground fighting scene. Maybe they really were going to kill you. You only felt slightly safe with Gaz, but that’s because he didn’t look as scarred a fighter as Ghost and Soap, and his eyes held a safer gaze than the other two. He would hold your hand on the way home, firmly but protectively. However, he only did this after you attempted to run away from the group about 4 times.

Arriving at the Price household, there was an overwhelming amount of smells. Everything smelled like all the boys, but individually and in one unit all at the same time. You would stay close to the front door at the entrance, scared to step one foot further into the house. You still didn’t know if it was safe or not. Price respected this, though. He had Gaz let go of your hand so you could settle into the house at your own pace. The look of fear in your eyes was one that he was familiar with, he’d seen it in all his other boys when he first brought them home.

He had the boys all continue on with their night, only giving you directions to the bathroom in case you needed it at some point.

As time went on, your legs would grow tired of just standing. You remained seated, close to the door as you watched the household live out their lives. Price would only stop by you once for the night, and it was to give you a late-night snack and to wish you a good night. He had set down a plate with pieces of watermelon and a glass of water. He left after that, supposedly going to bed. The boys would stay up a bit later, they would watch you in secret. But you were quickly able to tell they were spying on you, however, you let them continue.

You saw it as a way to test if they were trustworthy. Your ears slightly twitch as you listen to their whispers.

“...how do you know them…?” Gaz would whisper, curiosity lacing his voice. “...Ghost and I have had a few tussles with ‘em years ago…” “...Fierce dog… don’t underestimate them…” Ghost grumbled in reply, Soap nodding in agreement. “...Nearly took mah whole face off…” Soap chuckled. “...They almost got my ears…” Ghost added.

You would faintly smile at the warning of underestimating you as a fighter dog. But then you were reminded that you were a fighter dog. And a successful one. Any moral being would never want to be a successful fighter dog. That meant you were scary and either could have killed or even mutilated another dog. Memories of all your fights would flash across your mind, like a blinding camera shot. Your successful ones, the ones where you would lose and your owner showed you what bad dogs get for losing. The bits of compassion you would feel for your opponent as they bleed out, or yowled in pain as their bones broke, pellets of skin torn off, or their bleeding gums from when you knocked nearly all their teeth out.

You wanted to hug them, apologize to them, tell them that you wished you could fix them. Only to have those moments of kindness wiped from your mind as the shrieks and cheers of your owner and the people who bet money on you were released into the air.

Coming back to reality, you were perplexed when you didn’t hear the whispers anymore. Taking a chance, you glanced up at the boys. Only to see that they were now staring at you, curious and worried. You didn’t know why they were staring until you heard a soft pit-pat against the floor beneath you.

Glancing down, you saw little droplets. Your hand instinctively raised to your face, feeling little beads of tears and the streaks they left behind on your face. You would quickly smear your tears away and shoot the dogs a mean growl before reluctantly stuffing a piece of watermelon into your mouth. You just wanted something else to focus on aside from the stares you were getting right now.

An hour later, the men had all gone to sleep and you had eaten all the food Price had given you and drank all the water he offered. You stayed awake throughout the whole night, however. You still didn’t trust anyone, believing the house was a trap.

Morning arrived, your eyes tired but still open as you didn’t want to lose your guard. Price was the first one up, yawning and scratching at his chest as he walked into the room. He would glance down at you, smiling when he saw you’d eaten all your food.

“Food was good, yeah? Don’t worry, I’ll get you some more soon.” He chuckled, taking your empty dishes away and heading into the kitchen.

You felt awkward now, just sitting there as Price had begun to cook breakfast. You would quietly stand up and slink into the kitchen, sitting on the cold tile as you would watch him from a random corner of the room. It had been about ten minutes before Price would look over his shoulder to check on you, only seeing that you weren’t in your previous spot. He would then glance down at you in your new spot, chuckling to himself.

“Got bored of the old spot?” He asked before going back to cooking. He didn’t expect you to be speaking right out the gate, all the other boys were like that too when he first took them in. After a few minutes, Gaz would walk in, rubbing at his eye. A big smile formed on his face as he smelled the currently cooking food. “Smells good in here, Price.” He would then finally look at you, mildly surprised you had moved but he would regain his smile.

Waving at you, he would approach you but keep his distance. “Did you sleep well last night…?” You silently stared at him, your restlessness very obvious, especially in your eyes. “Did you sleep- at all last night…?” He looked concerned, his brows only furrowing more when you shook your head no. “...Too scared?” You stayed quiet. “That’s okay, Ghost and I were like that too.” He smiled at you. You couldn’t deny it, he was a comforting ball of sunshine to you.

“I could set up a bed on the couch for you, I could even keep the telly on for you if you like falling asleep to that sort of thing.” You remained quiet as he talked to you, causing him to let out a slightly amused but comforting huff. “That’s okay, you can think about it during breakfast.”

Breakfast included food that was the most delicious food you had devoured in years. French toast, fried eggs, bacon. You would quietly inhale the first actual meal you’d had in a long time, everyone else watching you at the kitchen table, some trying not to laugh at your eagerness.

You awkwardly stared at everyone else, wiping away some yolk on your mouth with your hand. Price chuckled, “That reminds me, we ought to give you a bath today and get you some new clothes.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You awkwardly sat in the tub as Gaz would scrub a sudsy sponge along your back. Price was washing some clothes, making sure the scent was cleaned out so you had no trouble with wearing them.

“Don’t worry, I was like this when Price first took me in.” He laughed a little. “Quiet, scared, and I didn’t know if this place was my permanent home. But it is my home, and it’s gonna be your home too.” He smiled at you, now rubbing shampoo into your hair. “...what’s it like?” You looked up at him. “Y’know, living here? What’s it like?”

Gaz thought for a bit, also trying to make sure none of the shampoo got in your eyes. “Well, it’s nice. Good food, good clothes, good comfort. Price will sometimes pick up our favorite snacks for us, he’ll do that for you too, you just need to ask him or write it on the grocery list. We go on weekly walks around the block, sometimes we go to the park which is really fun. Especially with Soap, he really likes to play games at the park.”

That surprised you, you never took Soap to be a ‘fun games at the park’ kind of dog. Well, that could also be because you never got to see him or Ghost as a domesticated dog, your only memories of them being in the fighting rink. Maybe they have changed. Maybe you should give them a chance to show you they’ve changed.

Maybe they were doing that all along since they found you, only holding you down instead of attacking you in response to being attacked by an old foe.

The bath was eventually drained and you were dried off with a towel, Price coming in with a pair of folded up clothes, a t-shirt and some sweatpants. You were left alone in the bathroom to get dressed, also to let you just have time to yourself.

After a few minutes, you stepped out of the bathroom in your new attire. You couldn’t lie, the clothes were beyond comfy and were nice and warm. Probably fresh out of the dryer. The rest of the boys were on the couch, watching a show on the TV. You would stare at them before slowly beginning to move your legs towards the couch as well.

They would notice your approaching, but wouldn’t bring any extra attention to it. They all remember their first time trying to get comfortable in the new home. It honestly warmed their hearts watching you hesitate on where to sit before eventually picking a spot and huddling into the soft pillows.

Price was already dressed for the day and was writing down the current shopping list before slipping his shoes on. “Oy, Gaz, you’re coming with me for groceries today.” He called out to the couch, Gaz promptly getting up and putting his own shoes on. He waved to you and the other two before stepping out the front door, Price giving a wave as well. “We’ll be back in 30.”

You sat there in silence, now stuck with your past enemies. There was tension, no doubt. At least, that’s what you felt. You were the one who was constantly looking over at the boys, a nervous sweat forming on your forehead. The two were just sitting there, watching the commercials play and pass by.

Now that the only pacifists in the house were gone, they were going to pounce at any second. You were sure of it. At any given moment, they were gonna do it. So you sat there, in a state of constant fear and bracing yourself for a fight you didn’t even know would happen.

Ghost noticed your condition, Soap a few seconds later would see it too. “... you okay, pup?” Soap would ask, seeing the little bits of sweat on your skin. “You’re scared.” Ghost stated, looking deep into your defensive form. “You don’t need to be, you’re safe now. We all are. We aren’t the same dogs you fought those years ago.”

They continued to watch you, watching as you stayed quiet and just stared at them expectantly. “We know you’re also no’ the same dog from those fights. Ye dinnae have a choice, only doin’ tha’ for your own survival. Like us.” Soap’s eyes were full of empathy and concern.

“No need to be scared. It’s safe here.” He smiled at you, slowly reaching out to you to rub your shoulder.

You only saw the worst in people, you would see a possible future where he was reaching out to strangle you instead of comforting you. You thought you could see his teeth start to bare, maybe he was snarling at you.

You felt like you were back in the fighting ring. You could feel the adrenaline begin pulsing and coursing through your veins.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You didn’t know how you did it, it went by so fast. The last thing you saw was Soap’s teething smile and his hand. Now you were pressed up against a wall, hyperventilating at the sight of what you just did.

First, you  grabbed his arm, throwing him to the ground before you began to bite and tear at his flesh and clothes. You woke up when Ghost pinned you to the ground, keeping your wrists together so you couldn’t hurt anyone or yourself. You scrambled away from him and coward into a corner.

You thought you were doing good, only a day into this house and you were doing so good. You didn’t feel like a good pup, not anymore. You weren’t deserving of this house, these new clothes. the food that resided in your stomach. You were a bad dog. There was no way you could look any of the boys in the eye now. Not after what you did.

Lost in a tsunami of your thoughts, you couldn’t hear Ghost trying to reassure you, that it was normal for an outburst like this to happen. He, himself, did it to Price. He brought Soap to the bathroom, taking out the first aid kit along with a few extra bandages. Living in a house with a bunch of retired fighter dogs, the first aid kits would be a bit more extreme than a regular, everyday one.

When he returned to check on you, to tell you that Soap was going to be okay, he didn’t see you in your corner. Not even the spot you were in on your first day here. But he saw that right next to the spot, the door was left open.

They lost you. ───♡───────────── End

If you have any requests, or asks, feel free to submit them!

[ambassadorarlert]

HEAT WAVES... (Armin Arlert x afab;reader)

.02 LEAVE THE DOOR OPEN ( main menu | spotify ) ↳ summary: you and Armin come to an understanding ↳ warnings: nsfw mentions, mostly fluff, one red flag guess where it is, minor making out, swearing ↳ genre: mutual pinning, friends to lovers ↳ word count: 7k

The next morning, the weather had taken a drastic turn. Upon arrival, the sun was shining, the temperature was more so on the warmer side. The new country you all had finally found yourselves in was bright, the port bustling with life and wonder. Now, only one day later, the sky had grown dark, deep grey clouds rolling around above. The streets that were loud and busy were now empty now that everyone was anticipating rain. When Armin woke up, it was starting to drizzle. 

He woke up feeling quite normal. Armin braced himself for a hangover, however the side effects of his intoxication didn’t come. Armin quickly glanced at his watch for the time and rushed to get dressed. It was six in the morning, he actually slept in one hour. He was in no particular rush to go anywhere, but Armin wanted to be the first one awake to see you.

You occupied Armin’s mind constantly, now even more so after last night. When Commander Hange, Captain Levi, and Oyankopon discovered you all drunk and passed on the ground of an unknown campsite, there was absolutely no time in between for Armin to catch another private moment with you. Levi had kicked your asses from the camp all the way to HQ. Armin had you in the palm of his hand when he was with you behind the curtain, there were so many things he wanted to say but words weren’t his friends right then and there. Of course, he had come up with about a million things to ask and tell you after the fact.

As he was beginning to work through a plan, Armin opened his door and was immediately face to face with Eren. He was leaning against the wall, hands stuffed in the pockets of his casual clothes. 

As he was beginning to work through a plan, Armin opened his door and was immediately face to face with Eren. He was leaning against the wall, hands stuffed in the pockets of his casual clothes. 

“Eren!” Armin jumped. 

“Finally.” Eren whined. “I’ve been waiting for you for, like, an hour. I’m starving!”

“You could have just went without me.” Armin mentioned. He placed a hand on his chest to still his beating heart. 

“I don’t know where this dining hall is.” Eren shrugged. 

“Eren, we were there yesterday. Remember, before you disappeared?” Armin tested Eren’s memory, sarcasm laced in between. Eren just shrugged again. 

He began walking onward down the hall without saying another word. Armin huffed, closing the door behind him. He caught up to Eren to lead the way, the plush carpet softening their footsteps. Eren still wasn’t paying attention to where exactly they were going, he loosely followed behind Armin. 

They descended about two stories, took a few turns, and they were there. Armin opened the set of white wooden doors to the dining hall.

The anticipation of seeing you sitting at one of the tables sent Armin’s heart fluttering. However, much to his disappointment. The room was empty. The light from outside casted a blue-grey undertone, depressing the room a smidge. There was food already laid out in the table towards the back. Armin was glad at least that was there. 

“Thank fucking god.” Eren swore. 

They both immediately dove for the food. It must have just been laid out because some of the hot servings were still steaming. Armin eyes a plate stacked tall with thick, round cakes. They were crisp around the edges. He help himself with the serving fork, and sat down. 

Eren mainly helped himself to a few sausage links. He took about three of them and sat down across from Armin. Armin was unsure of how to go about cutting up and eating his cakes, so he began to hack away at random.

“So, how was it?” Eren had finally broken his hangry silence. He hadn’t said a word the entire walk to the dining room.

“I haven’t tasted anything yet.” Armin stated, not looking up from his plate as he cut.

“No, not the food. What happened with you and [Y/N]? How was it?” Eren tried again, lowering his voice.

Armin froze, finally looking up. He sensed a shift in Eren. Armin and him were basically brothers, knowing each other off the back of their hands. That flame of brotherhood grew smaller over the past few months. They were physically together all of the time, but somehow a space had festered in between them. Eren's smile decreased, he laughed less, his spirit running empty. When asked, he was fine. He was just tired. He was just thinking, but nothing worth sharing. Armin knew this was untrue.

For the first time in months, Eren seemed interested. Naturally, Eren was curious on Armin’s current situation. He bore witness from day one of Armin longing for you from a distance. Eren was often listening to Armin go on and on about you, telling him not to be weird about watching you from across the room, when a good moment would be to drop a hint and how, reminding him that he’s a catch and anyone would be lucky to have someone like Armin.

Armin stared back at Eren incredulously. 

“You’ve got a little spot on your neck.” Eren pointed out.

Armin quickly grabbed his spoon on the side, using the silver as a mirror to examine his skin. In the contorted view of his complexion was a single dark spot right on the side of his throat. He didn’t even notice it when he got dressed this morning. Armin could see himself turning red in the face. 

“And I saw you both come from behind the tapestry. They were wearing your jacket. I pieced it together.” Eren explained. 

He was actually quite proud of Armin, he had finally stuck the landing. Eren picked up a piece of his sausage with his fork and examined it carefully. 

“I’m surprised you’re not gushing about it. Come on, dish it out.” Eren pressed. 

Armin cleared his throat, becoming slightly uncomfortable all of a sudden. His main concern being that he didn’t want to gossip behind your back, or share details that you might not want others to know. On the other hand, Armin was so glad that he and Eren were having an actual conversation. Armin put his hands in his lap and squeezed his palms together.

“It was… amazing, actually.” Armin confessed with a breathless sigh.

And then Armin began to retell the events of the night from the beginning, all the way through to the end. Armin was surprised with himself that he could retain so much detail after all that he had drank. One thing he wished he would have forgotten was how he had came way before he had meant to. Eren rolled his eyes upon hearing this. Out of respect and both of your privacies, Armin didn’t get too graphic with his recount. He also included the very cryptic conversation about both of your mutual feelings, how you were able to say so much and yet so little.

Eren sat and listened quietly, nodding along to things. Armin noticed that Eren was not shocked by his pre-ejaculation sidestory. 

“Thank God you used protection though. That could’ve been bad.” Eren snorted, popping a piece of sausage into his mouth. He hummed in approval at the taste. 

Eren had changed the way he was sitting in his chair. He sat on one foot while he had his other leg bent, elbow resting on his knee. Armin suddenly fell quiet at Eren’s comment. Eren stopped chewing and squinted at him, eyeing Armin sternly.

Armin squeezed his eyes shut at the realization that one of the most humiliating moments in his life could have taken a drastic turn. He squeezed his hands together tighter. 

“I didn’t have any at the moment, none of this was premeditated!” Armin defended himself. 

Eren chuckled. 

“You’re walking a dangerous line, brother.” 

Just as Eren spoke those words, the door to the dining hall opened. Eren fell back to being quiet. Armin turned, immediately his blood pressure increased.

In walked the fabulous four. Coming in as the leader, rubbing his temples with a rather evil scowl on his face was Jean. Out of everyone in the group, Jean looked the least pleased to be awake right now. It was indeed a bitch to get him out of bed on time. Jean was nursing a killer headache. He complained every step of the way from his room to the dining hall. The lights were too bright, the sounds were too loud. Eren almost felt sorry at the sight of him. Almost.

Second was Connie. He hardly paid anyone any attention, he was too busy looking down at his arm. Sasha walked third behind Connie with her shoulders slumped and a rather devastating look on her face. Every minute or so she declared that she was nauseous and needed to eat something, or she would absolutely starve and die.

“We’ll all feel better once we get some food in our stomachs.” You walked in behind Sasha as number four. 

As if without having to say anything, your eyes instantly locked onto Armin’s. He smiled and softly greeted everyone with a good morning. The atmosphere was a lot brighter, like the sun had just come out. The grumpy folk ahead of you mumbled back. You knew he wasn’t necessarily talking to them. The butterflies in your stomach gave you a swift kick in the rib at Armin’s acknowledgment of you. 

If you held eye contact with Armin any longer, you might burst into flames. 

You had half a mind to sit next to Armin at the table, figuring it would be rude not to. However, Connie had nagged your unspoken seat. Connie was bright eyed as ever. He apparently hadn’t had that much to drink because he was too busy talking. You took the empty seat next to Eren. It wasn’t as close to Armin as you would have liked to be, but across the table from him seemed just fine.

“Check this out. I found a little spider, he’s been hanging out with me since yesterday!” Connie beamed, showing Armin a dark dot on the outside of his forearm. 

You and Armin’s eyes locked in on each other again, both of your instincts to sneak peaks at each other equally sharp. It only lasted a split moment. Armin’s blue eyes sliced through yours. He eyed you as you sat down in your chair with your plate, scanning you in your entirety up and down like he knew something about you. You sucked in a breath, sending an icy chill down your spine. Armin held back a smile, looking down at Connie’s arm. Then suddenly, he frowned.

“Connie, that’s a tick.” Armin stated. 

“Aw, man.” Connie sucked his teeth in disappointment.

Armin leaned in to examine Connie’s bug friend. He stole another look at you as he worked the tick off of Connie’s arm. He wasn’t trying very hard, Armin was way too distracted to concentrate on anything else. If his psyche would allow it, there would be no one else in the room but you and him. You looked down into your plate as you ate, missing Armin’s eyes. There was an interesting shimmer around you. How did you grow more beautiful overnight?

“I’ll try again later.” Armin huffed, unable to work the tick free. 

“Hold on. What. Is. That?” Connie questioned. His eyes were focused on the bruise on Armin’s neck. 

Everyone turned to look at Armin, all eyes falling on him all of a sudden. They all spotted the mark on his throat now that Connie pointed it out. They all gasped theatrically. You joined in, gasping louder than anyone at the table for dramatic effect. False horror etched into your face as Armin scanned everyone around him. He noticed that Eren was the only one who didn’t react. 

Armin’s eyes connected with Jean. Strange, Jean didn’t seem to remember that he was the one who teased Armin about checking in on you, and getting him drunk. 

Connie grabbed Armin by the sides of his head and pressed him to his chest. He gently stroked his hair as if he was petting a cat.

“My boy! What have they done to my boy!” Connie fake cried. Armin pushed himself off of Connie’s chest. 

“Let me go!” Armin scoffed. 

“Woah, who did that, Armin?” Sasha pressed. She wasn’t shy when it came to gossiping. 

“Listen to you guys!” Jean rolled his eyes. “Give him some privacy, will you? It’s none of your business!”

Connie threw his hands up. 

“I just want to make sure my friend is okay! He comes back after being absolutely hammered all marked up and sexualized! I want to know if he’s alright!” Connie countered back to Jean. 

“He doesn’t have to tell you anything!” Jean argued back. 

“I’m just asking! I won’t lie, I saw a few girls giving Armin the goo-goo eyes! Which one was it?” Connie continued to question Armin while simultaneously arguing with Jean.

“Armin, don’t answer him. You’re not obligated to answer any of Connie’s stupid questions.” Jean lightly placed his hand on the table in the gap between himself and Armin, speaking to him on a lower level than Connie. 

“Oh my god.” Armin buried his face in his hands. Now would be a perfect time to disappear.

You figured this wasn’t your place to speak, considering it was you who left the mark on Armin’s neck. You definitely didn’t intend to do that. It was a good thing Armin was smart enough to leave his hickeys low enough to be covered by your shirt. Your chest was littered with red splotches where Armin had sucked. 

Another interruption shook the room. The doors to the dining hall fell up with such rage and aggression, no one needed to look and see who it was. 

Sure enough, Levi had entered, along with Hange. Hange closed the door behind them both, since Levi couldn’t be bothered. Everyone in the room fell silent and immediately stood at attention. Heels together, left hand behind their backs and right fists turned outward over their heart. Nobody moved a muscle. 

Levi scanned the room like a disappointed father peering over his idiotic children. Everyone’s posture was sharp, but a handful looked like they were close to death. Jean looked like he was about to fall over any second, Sasha was practically green in the face, and Mikasa was not present. 

“Where’s Mikasa?” Levi questioned. Several eyes glanced at you. 

You were Mikasa’s assigned partner on this mission, both responsible for each other. 

“Mikasa is too sick to get out of bed, sir. She sends her apologies.” You explained, telling a white lie at the end. When you went to wake Mikasa from her bed, her specific words were “fuck off.” 

Levi sucked his teeth. 

“God damn it! Are you all suddenly thick in the heads?” Levi began to get louder. 

“Explain yourselves.” Hange included themselves. Without question or a second thought, Eren spoke up. 

“It’s my fault, Hange.” Eren spoke out. 

Everyone’s head craned to look at him, wondering what story he was going to come up with.

“This guy invited us to join his family for dinner. Everyone was against it, but it was my idea to stay. We ate and drank way too much, and passed out then and there instead of reporting back to HQ. I take full responsibility.” Eren explained.

That part of the story was only a sliver of the truth. Eren had been the reason everyone else reluctantly stayed at the camp. Mikasa had found Eren first, and since Eren was down for a party, she refused to go anywhere without him. Mikasa’s decision convinced Jean to stay, who was being followed by Connie. Since Connie and Jean were staying, and after seeing how much food they had, Sasha was practically begging you to come along. Reluctant and cautious, Armin decided he might as well come too.

And the rest was history.

“You imbecile. You could have blown our cover! You could have ruined this entire operation!” Levi wasn’t shouting, but his volume was louder than it probably should have been for a group of people that is incognito. 

“Levi, please.” Hange huffed, being the only person in the world that is capable of making Levi be quiet.

Hange was not put off guard by Eren taking responsibility for everyone else, that wasn’t out of character for Eren to protect people he cares for. What they really weren’t expecting was Eren to run off on his own. That was quite unusual.

Hange stroked their chin, glossing over their pupils with pounding heads and sick stomachs. While Levi had unleashed a portion of his wrath after dragging everyone out of camp and back, Oyankopon offered Hange advice. He liked you all, and was glad to see that they were embracing in the party culture. Especially since they are young adults traveling the world for the very first time. He advised not to go too heavy on the punishment, if there was one. 

“What you all did was dangerous and extremely unwise. We’re not on vacation, this is enemy territory. We all need to stay close and stay low. It would be unjust to issue write-ups when we get back to the island, so I’m letting this go for now.” Hange declared.

Levi folded his arms, angrily pouting. 

You heart almost stopped beating upon hearing the word “write-up,” as you have never been in trouble for anything ever. You sighed to yourself at the relief that Hange was letting you all off the hook. 

“Let’s be clear that we’re all sure what the mission at hand is.” Levi jumped back in, not letting his anger go. 

From that point on, Levi drilled the plan into everyone’s head. He went over it as a group about four times, and four times individually. The entire reason that the Survey Corps came to Marley in the first place was to find allies and convince people that Eldian’s on Paradis are not the savages they are made to be. There was also a meeting on Eldian rights taking place in a few days, and it was imperative that you all be there to listen and be witnesses to a world-changing decision.

You understood the plan inside and out, reciting it perfectly and answering each question Levi threw at you gracefully and without hesitation. Still, someone more important was on your mind. It would be disrespectful to sneak glances at Armin in the presence of your superiors, but every time he spoke you gave him your full and undivided attention. Everyone else seemed to melt away when you heard his voice relay the plan. 

After an hour and a half of grilling and questioning, making sure everyone understood the expectations thoroughly, Levi called for a break. He had tormented you all enough, and he needed a cup of tea after being riled up for so long. He waved everyone to be at ease. Connie and Sasha went back for more food. Jean continued on with his breakfast. You realized there was a patio door to the side. You went out the door and stepped outside, excusing yourself for some fresh air. 

You stuck your hand out past the roof of the patio, raining dribbling on your arm. The air was refreshing, a needed change from the hostile environment Levi had created. You knew that he was absolutely in the right to be angry, and that you all had made a bad decision. Even so, Levi’s anger was suffocating at times. 

The patio door opened again. You turned to see who would be joining you outside. It was Armin. His blonde hair flew against the wind that blew past. He appeared so suddenly. 

“Hi.” Armin said bashfully. He closed the door behind him. 

“Hello.” You said back. 

You couldn’t hide the heat that rose to your face, making your cheeks burn. You turned back to look at the rain, hoping Armin would just think the wind had beaten your face red. 

God, you were adorable, Armin thought to himself. It was about a full twenty-four hours ago that he had his face driven directly in between your legs, cock drilled into you like a screwdriver to a nail, sucking on your skin enough to leave marks, and confessing feelings he never imagined were felt for him in return. What could you possibly be shy about? 

Armin didn’t pass too much judgment, as he was introverted as well.

Armin joined you at your side. His presence appearing in your corner view like a phantom. He stood silent and still, almost at full attention if it weren’t for his hands resting on the banister. His fingers were just mere inches from yours. You wondered what he would do if you took his hand. 

The gloomy morning had gotten even more so. The clouds above were swirling shades of grey, thunder rolling behind them. There was a sheer film of rain coating the landscape outside. Rain splashed on the outskirts of the patio and banister, making a color difference in the pavement. You and Armin stood in silence, listening and waiting.

Although this was your favorite type of weather, you pretended to be listening to the rain hitting the earth. Your ears were opened and ready to listen in case Armin had anything to say. He had been standing there for a while, quiet as a mouse in church. You began to wonder if he was going to say anything at all. Perhaps you needed to be the one to break the silence. 

Somehow you both decided to speak at the same time. You fumbled over your intended statements, followed by polite apologies for interrupting each other. Armin insisted that you speak first, desperate to hear your words. 

“I was just going to ask you what was on your mind.” You said in a half question.  

Armin turned to the side, facing you completely. He inhaled deeply. He started to get that dry feeling in his mouth, along with a sense that his heart was going to jump out of his throat if he misspoke. 

“I, um…” Armin began. 

Armin still had one hand on the banister. You grabbed it, not thinking twice, tangling your fingers in with his and giving him a light squeeze. It was definitely chilly out, yet Armin’s palms were warm. The nervous tremble in his lip had stopped, a smile spreading. 

“I thought about you all night. Is that a strange thing to say?” Armin wanted to know. You shook your head. 

“I was thinking of how nice it was to finally be with someone I cared about for so long. So, so long. ” Armin loosened his grip on your hand to gently toy with your fingers.

All of the strings on your heart had been yanked, choking you up with no warning. You continued to listen as Armin started to fall into his rambling. While he spoke, his eyes were glued to your intertwined fingers. 

“I was also thinking if you’d still feel the same way the next day, and that this wasn’t some mistake we made. Because I, for one, don’t feel that way at all.” 

You stopped your twiddling fingers to hold Armin’s hand gently.

“I don’t feel that way either.” You confirmed. 

A loud, earth shaking roll of thunder boomed off in the distance. It make the structure around you shake ever so slightly. 

Armin took a quick glance at the patio door, peaking inside through the glass to see what everyone on the inside was doing. Everyone had their backs turned, not paying attention. Armin slid himself towards you. You didn’t realize how far apart you both were standing until he was in your personal space. The gap between you both was driving Armin crazy.

“What should we tell people about us, then?” Armin questioned. He took the inside of his cheek between his back teeth, biting down.

Another loud crack of thunder clapped through the sky, followed by a flash of bright white lightning. 

You only paused for a moment, realizing multiple things at once. First, the tone in which Armin spoke; Careful, slow, assumptive. He had a way of leaving a big open space at the end of some of his questions, and the room he left you to answer was ginormous. 

You knew that Armin was going to bring this all up at some point, ask questions that may not have been asked and set boundaries that might not have been clear. The way Armin presented his curiosity was not expected.

“Unless I’m mistaken?” His thick eyebrows coming together in the center with worry. Perhaps he had done exactly what he feared, offending you. 

“No, no, you’re not!” You chimed back into the present moment.

“I’m sorry, I should have worded that differently.” Armin cringed at himself.

You had been so selfish, consumed in wanting Armin all to yourself. You didn’t think of how it would affect others. Of course, their opinions didn’t matter, but how would you and Armin being in a relationship change the dynamic of things if at all? No one seems to mind Mikasa and Eren although they were not outright exclusive, Historia and Ymir, or even Sasha and Niccolo. Dare you even think of Commander Erwin and Captain Levi. It would seem unfair that everyone else can develop interpersonal relationships with each other, but you and Armin couldn’t.

If anyone’s opinion mattered out of everyone, it was Levi and Hange. What would they say? You all were already in hot water with the Captain, should you really turn up the heat?

“Maybe we should keep it between us.” you suggested. Armin nodded. 

“If that’s what you want, then I have no dissent.” He said.

“You can’t just agree with what I want! What do you want?” You laughed lightly.

In absolutely no way, shape, or form, was Armin embarrassed of you, or to be seen with you. If he could, he would show you off from the highest cloud in the sky. However, your idea to keep things discreet gave him a great wave of relief. He could just hear Jean in his ear giving him horrible, unsolicited romantic advice. Armin would never hear the end of Connie’s teasing. He could hear Connie now in the back of his mind poking fun of him for being a virgin — not knowing that the joke is on him. 

And then, there was Eren. Armin couldn’t even predict how Eren would potentially react.

“Keeping things between us sounds nice.” He agreed.

A huge, bright flash of lightning lit up behind the clouds. There was a low bang, which made you and Armin both jump out of your own little world you had just created. You let each others hands go. The patio door was thrown open, Sasha’s hand on the knob. 

“It’s getting kinda bad out here, aren’t you guys gonna come inside? The meeting is about to restart.” She asked, genuinely concerned. 

You and Armin stared back at Sasha like startled deer. She looked between the both of you, waiting for a response.

“What’re you doin’?” Sasha squinted. 

“Talking about you.” You were quick with the response. Sasha rolled her eyes. 

“Haters never prosper.” Sasha flashed her middle finger, and then closed the door behind her. 

“What are you doing tonight?” Armin blurted out as soon as Sasha left.

He reached for the patio door handle before you, opening the door wide enough to let you pass first. You knew what that meant. The knotting feeling in your stomach had returned, twisting in your gut. 

“I don’t have any strict plans.” You said. 

“Come see me later, please? I’ll leave my door unlocked for you.” Armin muttered in your ear as you passed him. He didn’t mean to sound so desperate. Another shiver went up your spine. This particular sensation was reserved for Armin and Armin only.

“Okay, I will.” You promised. 

And you kept your promise. 

When the meeting was completed and done with, half of the day was over. You spent a few hours messing around with Jean, Sasha, and Connie. You and Sasha periodically checked in on Mikasa. You delivered a handwritten note from Levi to Mikasa, ordering her to stay in bed until she was recovered.

When night had fallen, but not too deep into the hours, you stood face to face with the wood of Armin’s door. From under the crack, you could see that his lights were still on. Every now and then, you could see the shadow of his feet walking around. Armin was pacing a lot. 

He had accidentally screwed himself over. He should have given you a time frame as to when to see him. Armin had given himself anxiety, wondering which hour of the night you’ll show up. It was getting to be about ten o’clock at night. Maybe you had more important things to do tonight, or perhaps you had just changed your mind. 

Much to his surprise, the door creaked open.

You slipped through, hoping you were quick enough that you were not seen dipping off into Armin’s room. If anyone was going to see you and ask questions, it would be Jean since his room was just down the hall. Your hand gripped the doorknob, turning it all the way and closing the door ever so gently. Once you were safe inside, you pressed your back to the wood. 

Armin was sitting up at the table, still dressed in his day clothes and a book in hand. His blue eyes blinked a few times, and then he smiled.

“Hi!” Armin failed to hide the surprise and excitement in his voice. His smile was gentle, tender.

You were unsure of what to do now. Your main goal was to sneak into Armin’s room undetected, you hadn’t thought this far of what you’d actually do or say once you got inside. You kept your distance, back still against the door. 

“Hi.” You greeted back. 

You looked around Armin’s room. Decorations had already been placed around the room, similar if not identical to the decor in your room. However, the table in the corner was covered with papers and books.

There was a soft sound coming from somewhere in the room, muffled and quiet. It was music. 

“Where is that coming from?” You asked.

Armin closed his book, not bothering to mark the page.

“Look at this!” He exclaimed as he motioned to a contraption on his bedside table. 

You hadn’t seen anything like this. It was a small, square box with a metal rod sticking up at the top. You walked up to it, leaning in close. Someone was singing, but you couldn’t really make out the words. It wasn’t like the music the refugee’s played on their instruments, but you liked it all the same. You listened, and swayed along.

“What is it?” You questioned.

“They call it a radio. It was already here when I came in. I-I tinkered with it a little bit. Here, look.” Armin explained. He simply picked it up as if it weighed nothing.

“This knob changes what’s playing.” Armin twisted it to the left. 

A horrible and irritating noise came through the box, then a man talking, no music. Armin turned it again to bring the music back.

“And this one changes how loud it is.” He turned the other knob that was next to the first one. The music suddenly got louder, and then softer as Armin changed it around.

“I like it at this volume.” He stated, fixing it to how he had it.

“What does that do?” You pointed to the metal stick poking out at the top. 

“Not sure.” He shrugged. He sat the radio back on his desk.

“Cool!” You smiled. A different song began to play, it was slower and seemed more sentimental. You paused to listen for a moment, and began to nod along.

A spark went off in Armin’s chest. He gave himself a point for managing to impress you. Discreetly, he eyed you up and down. Armin tried to keep his thoughts pure, but it was difficult to not visualize what he had seen under your clothes yesterday. His throat suddenly felt thick at the memory of how soft he knew you were, how he knew you smelled good and felt so wonderful up against him and in his arms. He’d give up anything to have you that close again.

And perhaps he could. 

Despite Armin just saying that he preferred the radio at the volume he set it at, you helped yourself to reach out and turn the knob slightly to the right and increased the sound. You closed your eyes and danced in a small circle to the song. Armin stood still, hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants while he watched. 

“Do you know how to dance?” You teased him.

“Not for real.” He awkwardly chuckled. That kind curve appeared on your lips. It almost brought Armin to his knees.

Without saying anything, you grabbed him by his wrists and brought him closer. Armin didn’t have a chance to protest. He sputtered while you grabbed one of his hands and placed the other on your waist. Your free hand rested on his shoulder. Armin’s touch was delicate and polite in comparison to how he had touched you hours ago.

You took the lead as you swayed him back and forth, turning him in a circle. Although you were going slow, Armin looked at his feet while you both moved around each other, cautious not to step on your toes. 

“Don’t look at your feet.” You advised.

“Right.”

Following your instruction, he looked at you. It was hard to look anywhere else. You took up his entire space. Any room you walked in, you owned it. Armin wondered if that was something you were aware of. His eyes fell on every inch of your face, taking in all of your facial features. You didn’t miss that he glanced down at your lips. 

You raised your arm above your head and twirled in a circle.

Once your spin was complete, Armin pulled you in closer to him. His hand rested firmly on your lower back. Now his touch held purpose. His eye contact was intense. You couldn’t tell if it was from the shade of blue in his eyes and how easy it was to drown in them, or the mood he had just set. You immediately blushed, unable to help yourself. 

Armin was so, so handsome. The haircut he had gotten framed his face nicely, highlighting his jawline and neck. It was refreshing to see the face behind the long, blonde hair that he had almost grown to his shoulders. Armin looked back at you with a dreamy look in his eye, not too much of lust but of the same passion.

“You’re very pretty. I’ve been wanting to tell you that all day.” Armin sighed, being as lost in you as you were in him.

“Well thanks. I was just thinking the same thing about you.” You spoke.

Armin contorted his face as if that was the strangest thing he had ever heard. 

“Really?” He questioned.

“Yes, really! With your long eyelashes, big blue eyes, and cute nose.” You read off, poking the tip of his nose as you mentioned it. Armin’s eyes crossed at your finger coming for his face, which was now dusted pink across his cheeks. Armin shrugged.

“Aw.” He scoffed.

The storm continued outside, the rain was now violently beating against the glass window. Armin’s radio continued to play a lighter and sweeter song. This time, a woman was singing. This would constitute another traditional romantic setting, Armin had realized. He was fixated on your lips, craving the soft skin pressed onto his.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” Armin’s thumbs rubbed into you, unaware of how many beats your heart had skipped.

“Yes you can. And, you don’t have to ask.” You nodded in acknowledgement, both remembering how disturbed he was with himself when he had kissed you for the first time without asking.

Armin tagged that in his memory.

You had both met in the middle, first being a short and simple chaste kiss. However, the warmth in the room changed. Armin pulled you into him once he had gotten a decent inhale of you, embracing you with both of his hands wrapped around your back and yours around his neck. He needed more of you somehow.

“Do you want to sit on the bed?” Armin offered, hardly taking his lips off of yours to speak. You agreed, already knowing your next move.

What a fool. Armin had no idea that he had handed you so much power. He walked backwards, you still wrapped in his arms. Armin expected you to part from him to sit directly next to him -- but no. You threw your legs over his, directly sitting on his lap and straddling his waist. Your hands had worked their way into his hair, soft pieces ticking the back of your hand. The breath in Armin’s lungs was whisked away by your body on his. You could hear him release a shaky sigh when you scratched at his scalp. Little did you know, that was just the way Armin liked it.

While your lips weaved in between each other, Armin was unable to keep his hands still. They couldn’t decide if they should stay gripped to your hips, or caress your bare arms. Eventually they settled for the skin on your sides under your shirt. You were just as soft as he thought you would be, just as warm, and just as gorgeous. This was hot, too hot. Armin’s heartbeat was pounding so hard, he began to feel blood flow to other places. He gulped, trying to steady himself. Tongues hadn’t even gotten involved yet.

“W-Wait, hold on a minute.” Armin puffed.

You immediately stopped and pulled away. Your face hovered his, breaths panting.

“What’s wrong?” You straighten your posture, cupping one side of his face with one hand. Without hesitation, Armin leaned into your touch to rest his cheek in your palm.

“Nothing is wrong. I, uh…” He trailed off awkwardly. He blinked, thinking of words to say.

This was a habit Armin had. Whenever he was at a loss for words, he would halt the conversation and actively think of something to say. Usually, he could come up with an appropriate answer on the fly. Now, he seemed stuck. You patiently waited for him to continue. Armin gently slid his hands from under your shirt to each of your thighs. His touch left a trail of heat as he did so. 

“I don’t wanna… do anything, not tonight at least. Don’t get me wrong, I want you so bad. It’s just…”

“Armin, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything.” You reassured him.

You made an attempt to get up from Armin’s lap, however he only constricted his arms around your waist to keep you in place. He didn’t necessarily say that he wanted you to move. He rested his chin right on the swell of your breast, looking up at you with soft doe eyes.

“I mostly just wanted to talk to you.” He admitted. 

“That’s fine. I like talking to you.” You shrugged simply. You could visibly see him perk up.

“Good because I have, like, seventy questions.”

He was not exaggerating. Armin had a lot of questions.

Armin was still dumbfounded that his unspoken affections for you were being reciprocated. He thought he would die before he got the chance to tell you how he felt. He wanted to know how long exactly you had kept your feelings to yourself. Armin was not oblivious to the fact that after Erwin had passed and Armin was injected with the serum, people were a lot nicer to him and spoke about how glad they were to have him around. Armin took each compliment with a giant grain of salt.

“Definitely before all of that.” You bashfully laughed. Armin’s eyes grew wide, if that were physically possible.

“That was so long ago!” He gasped. 

“I know!” You groaned. 

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Armin asked. 

Your cheeks were now hotter than the sun. Your hands flew up to shield your face to hide, unable to contain your flustered embarrassment any longer. Armin took your wrists and gently removed them from your face. 

“I don’t know…” You shrugged. “You always appear so busy. You and Eren and Mikasa are always running around together. Hange depends on you a lot. You’re like a little busy bee. I figured you wouldn’t have the time.”

“I will always make time for you.” Armin stated. 

It was like you were getting to know each other all over again. You saw Armin in a new light as a romantic partner. Everyone knew that Armin was genuinely nice and cared about everyone and everything. You wondered how many people knew how incredibly sweet and gentle he truly was. From the way Armin touched you, so tenderly and politely as if you’d break under his destructive touch, to the way he listened to every single thing you said, your teeth began to rot in your skull. 

The night grew darker and later. You and Armin’s conversation carried on into the hours, talking about anything and everything you could possibly think of. You had changed positions from sitting in his lap to laying in his bed, slipping under the covers and staring up and the ceiling and spilling your thoughts. 

“I’ve never been in a relationship before.” Armin confessed. 

Once again, he had his fingers wound up with yours, playing with them softly. At some point, he had turned the radio off. The only background noise was the storm that hadn’t let up for a second. 

“If you’ve never been in a relationship before, why are you so good at eating pussy?” You teased. Armin snorted. 

“I don’t know, that was the first time I had ever done it.” Armin said. You sat up. 

“Seriously?” You gasped, true shock on your face. Armin quietly nodded. 

“You’re really good at it.” You praised. Armin’s cheeks immediately burned red. 

“I-I really liked doing it.” He said. 

“Maybe next time I can go down on you.” You offered.

Armin must have died and gone to heaven. You and him were finally together, after years of being your closest friend and not saying a thing about how he truly feels. Armin felt dumb to his core, cursing himself for not being able to see that you felt the same for him for so long. All of his daydreams of you were about to come to fruition. The mutual imagery of you going down on him was almost too much. He might melt into his bedsheets if he thought any more about it. 

It was a shame that you had to leave. You were starting to get sleepy now tucked into Armin’s side. He had one arm up and tucked under his head, your legs laced together comfortably. It was going on midnight, and Captain Levi declared that he would do bed checks to make sure everyone is where they were supposed to be. He hasn’t had to conduct a bed check since you all had first joined the Survey Corps as teenagers. The anxiety of being on time for a bed check brought some nostalgia. 

You and Armin bid your goodnights, exchanging kisses and trying very hard not to get carried away with them and waste time. Just as you were about to walk out of Armin’s room, he caught your wrist. 

“How do you like your tea?” He asked randomly.

“Three sugars.” You replied, an eyebrow quirked. Armin nodded. You let your wrist and hand slide through Armin’s hand. You wiggled your fingers at the end. 

“Goodnight.” You bid. 

Armin made sure to watch you walk down the hall until you were out of sight. He hated that he couldn’t walk you back to your room out of fear that he’d miss his bed check. Armin had never missed a single one. 

He slowly sat on the edge of his bed. His room was colder now that you had gone. There was a tightness in his chest that wasn’t unfamiliar. He ached for you to be with him, now more literal than before. Storms were Armin’s favorite type of weather. On a normal night, he’d already be in bed curled under his blankets and zoning out to the thunder and rain. 

If only you could have stayed. Armin had gotten a taste of what he fantasized about the most — holding you in his arms any way he possibly could and just enjoying you being there with him, you sleeping soundly against his chest, and waking up to you the next morning. It was almost cruel that he didn’t get to fulfill the last portion. 

Armin laid his head on his pillow to finally rest. The spot where you had just been still smelled of you, and Armin took that to his advantage. He inhaled, no longer ashamed to adore the scent. 

That satisfied him enough, for now. 

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