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that-sarcastic-writer · 1 year ago

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A Love Game

DI!Single!Dad!Leon S. Kennedy X F!Teacher!Reader

Summary: You hear a glimpse of Leon's relationship with his daughter. And later he makes you a proposal you just can't refuse

Warnings: mild sexual content, still minors dni, brief phone sex, allusions to sex, Leon has a mouth on his as always, bit of soft!dom leon, mostly Leon being a soft dad on this one, foul language (as always), no use of y/n

WC: 3k

A/N: so I'm totally in love with this dynamic! And yalls support was insane. I literally wrote two separate drafts of a continuation of these two and whichever I finished first was gonna be posted, so the light smut one won bc I'm tired atm and didn't feel like sitting in front of my computer for 6 hours🙃 so this short part will have a second part to it with full spicy time. And another standalone part with these two (coffee and other things) having some more spicy time is also in the works, so stay tuned. Besitos <3

Universe Masterlist

Leon blinked slowly, his eyes now starting to grow sore from staring at the bright computer screen for so long. But he just hadn't had time to finish this stupid report. Sure, he has had two whole days to get it done, but with a tiny human clinging to his arm every waking minute, it was a bit more complicated than he thought. But he couldn't possibly ignore his little girl when he barely had the time to be with her without having to worry about stopping some mad scientist with too much time in their hands. He didn't mind though. His little girl was more important than anything else.

Still, he took advantage of the little window of time he had now. He had given Isabella dinner a little over an hour ago. Then left her in the dining room to finish her homework. She had always been a smart girl, responsible with her homework, she never fussed when he asked her to do it, so it didn't worry him in the slightest to leave her to do her own thing. She tended to get distracted when he was around anyway.

Though, maybe an hour had gone by when he heard tiny feet pad bare through the wood floors and he saw a mess of chocolate brown strands sticking from its bun peek above his computer screen. He slowly lowered the screen until it was almost shut and he was met with a pair of sapphire eyes that were a replica of his own. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Daddy." She took a step closer to him, her eyes big like she wanted to ask him something.

Leon sat up fully, setting his laptop aside and nodded at her, giving her his full attention now. "What's up bee?"

"Can I.. uhm.. I can play with your switch now?" She asked, dark lashes batting as she fiddled with her hands. As if she had to give him puppy dog eyes for him to say yes. He kept his face serious though.

"You wanna play on my switch?" She nodded. He ran his fingers over his light stubble as if he was thinking real hard, he pursed his lips in thought. "I dunno hun, did you finish your homework?"

"How did you know I had homework?" She asked with an adorable frown on her face, it took Leon all of his willpower not to break then.

"Well I do now." He slipped a smile and she pouted. He couldn't help but chuckle at his little girl. He took her in his arms and sat her on his lap. "Well I knew before. Wanna know how?"

Her head perked up. "How?"

Leon leaned into her ear with a smile, "'Cause dads know everything about their little girls." He pressed a kiss to the side of her hair and set her back on her feet. "But yeah, Miss Pretty Teacher told me."

"That's cheating!" She whipped her head around with a gasp and glared at him. He again couldn't hide his laugh.

"Yeah alright, you caught me," he raised his hands up at her in surrender. "You can play on the switch for a bit. Do you remember how to turn it on?"

Izzy proudly nodded and skipped over to the large TV hooked up to the living room. The TV had been on, nothing playing, but just on, since Leon had intended to play some white noise in the background but never actually loaded up anything. He switched to the right input as he watched Izzy turn on the Switch. It took her a second to remember how, but she was happily skipping back to the couch with the controllers as the loading screen came up before Leon could get up to help. He shook his head to himself, but he puffed out a breath when Izzy jumped on his lap, rather hard, the little girl giggling when he groaned.

"Jesus Christ, when did you get so big?" He chuckled, fixing her on his lap so she wouldn't fall and watched as she scrolled through the games until she found Mario Kart.

"I turned seven in October, remember?" She piped up, genuinely reminding him of such an important date, as if he would ever forget. He nodded.

"I know, Izzy. I took you to Dave and Busters with Amara, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah, you're right. That was fun. We should go again sometime! Please daddy?" She turned her head to look at him with this smile on her face and her big blue eyes.

God, what did he ever do to deserve this kid?

He pressed his lips to her forehead and nodded.

"'Course. I'll talk to Amara's mom, okay?"

He watched as Izzy excitedly nodded and cheered happily before she got lost in the game in front of her. He didn't mind her having screen time. It wasn't like she had an iPad glued to her face twenty-four-seven. He let her play once or twice a week, and maybe a third if he was feeling like playing with her. And she was more than happy to spend that time with her dad.

Tonight he wasn't really feeling playing, so he watched her do her best. To her, she was the biggest winner there ever was, throwing turtle shells and bombs at practically nothing and hitting the wall with every curve, but she had fun with it, so he let her be, cheering her on whenever she finished a race, even if it was in ninth or eighth place.

Maybe thirty minutes had passed when he felt his phone buzz beside him. He took his eyes away from the colorful screen to look at his phone. It lit up with a text, and his smile grew wide at the name.

My pretty teacher.

He grabbed his phone and quickly opened the conversation. You had been texting back and forth all day, for days now, after what he considered a perfect first date, but he just hadn't gotten around to match your schedule to plan another date. So you had resorted to texting and maybe calling once here and there. But God, he was really missing you right about now.

My pretty teacher: sorry, I went to dinner with my mom and sister. And I just got home. Hru?

He bit his lip as he attempted to type into his phone one handed.

Me: It's fine. I'm ok. With izzy.

My pretty teacher: awww🥰

Me: Can you call? I'm texting with one hand at the moment.

You saw the message, and he could see the three text bubbles appear and disappear. Until they didn't come back. He mentally grimaced at himself, maybe the idea of talking to him while Isabella was there made you uncomfortable? Shit. He hadn't thought about that. Christ, he hadn't dated in so long he had forgotten that being a single dad wasn't exactly the biggest turn on. No matter how much one liked kids.

His anxiety riddled brain stopped racing when he saw your contact name pop up on his screen as his phone started ringing. He grinned to himself. He glanced at Izzy— her full attention was still on her game, he shrugged and answered the call. He set his phone down, still having one ear bud in from when he was working on his laptop.

"Hey Miss." He spoke first, his heart racing in his chest a bit.

"Hi Leon." He could hear the smile in your voice. That shy smile he thought was the prettiest thing.

"You busy?" He asked, still a bit worried he was interrupting you in the middle of something. Though the indistinct sound of TV playing in the background let him know that maybe you weren't that busy.

"Not really. I got home a little bit ago so I was just about to run myself a bath." You answered, walking back and forth between your bedroom and the bathroom connected to it. "You?"

Leon tried his hardest not to think about your words too much. Not right now.

"Nah. Just watching Izzy play on my switch. She's kicking ass in Mario Kart." He heard you blurt out a giggle, which made him chuckle, but what made him actually laugh was Izzy shooting him a frown over her shoulder.

"Daddy, that's a no-no word."

Leon snapped his head down at Izzy and he frowned, not sure if he heard her correctly, "What's that bee?"

"I said that's a bad word."

"What is?"

"Ass."

Leon almost snorted at the way she said the word. With a frown and her lips pursed. He didn't care if she said bad words or not. He sure as hell said them all the time, but he encouraged her not to repeat what he said, in front of other people, at least. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"So don't say it. I'm an adult. I can say them." When she kept looking at him, he placed a hand on top of her head and —gently— turned her head back towards the TV screen, despite her protest. "Keep playing your game, Isabella. Or you can't sit on my lap anymore."

All Leon could hear was you attempting to muffle your laughter, but he could hear your giggles loud and clear. He only rolled his eyes, but he had a tiny smile of his own.

"C'mon don't laugh, being a parent is hard. Are you the one teaching her this no-no bull— B.S?" He caught himself, closing his eyes when you laughed even more, now not even bothering to hide it.

"I have to! I have a swear jar, I'm sorry. I gotta set an example."

He actually laughed at this, remembering the mouth you had on you when he had you on his bed.

"Yeah, well, you weren't so pure and innocent when you were screaming—" He caught himself again, his own eyes widening when he remembered Isabella was right there and he sighed out softly. "Give me an hour and I'll give you the answer you deserve, Miss."

You stayed quiet for a second, not because he offended you, but because you needed a second to breathe and control the heat that flashed between your legs at his insinuation. You exhaled deeply before responding.

"You're what again? Playing Switch with Izzy?

Leon hummed in response. "She is. She's sitting on my lap so I'm being forced to watch."

"I'm not forcing you!"

"On your game, Isabella. Stop listening to my conversation."

"Does she have her own Switch or something?" You asked, now sitting on the edge of your bathtub as hot water poured from the faucet.

"No. It's my Switch. But I leave it in the living room so she can play sometimes." He answered you with a shrug you obviously couldn't see.

You chuckled softly, "How old are you again?"

"Thirty-eight, but that's besides the point. I barely have time to use the thing. I mostly bought it for Izzy." He wasn't lying— entirely. He sometimes played, late at night by himself when he wanted to drown himself in a bottle of whiskey. He would choose to play a game to blow off steam instead of getting drunk with his little girl sleeping in the next room or passing out drunk at some shitty bar.

"I'm very convinced by that." You snorted, making him sigh out at you.

"Hmph. Whatever. You wouldn't understand how cathartic throwing green turtle shells at tiny cars can be."

"Oh I bet."

"Daddy?" You heard Isabella's voice through the phone and your heart warmed.

Leon looked down at Izzy, "Yeah?"

"Who are you talking to?" She asked with genuine curiosity, her very glorious race tournament now over and her attention was on him.

He heard you go silent, most likely having heard the little girl and he sighed out, his eyes landing up on the ceiling for a second as he thought of his answer.

"Just a friend, bee." He ultimately decided on that answer. It wasn't that he was ashamed of being with you, not at all, but Izzy was still young, and even he knew there had to be a proper introduction of you outside of your teacher role. He actually wanted to do this the right way.

"You fuck my brains out last week and I'm just a friend now?" He heard you comment in his ear and he groaned out.

"C'mon, that's not fair." He leaned back into the couch, his forearm over his eyes now as he basically had two women all over him, pressing him with way too many questions for his liking.

"I'm just giving you a hard time, Leon. I get it." There was humor in your voice, lightheartedness and even though he couldn't see you, he had a feeling you had that gentle smile on your lips. That eased the pressure on his chest.

"Listen sweetheart, it's almost Izzy's bedtime," His eyes were on Izzy now, and with his eyes he was nudging at her to start wrapping up her game. She pouted, but didn't otherwise fuss. "Call you in an hour?"

You both had this dumb, lovesick smile on your face, if only you could see the other.

"I'll be up."

The warm water, the foaming body wash and the intoxicating smell of your favorite candle had done wonders to relax you. When you left the bathtub you felt like a whole new person. Though there still this tug of butterflies in your stomach as you anxiously waited for Leon to call you.

You sat on the edge of the tub, warm and fluffy robe wrapped around your naked body as you mindlessly scrolled through your social media for a little while before you decided to check out for the night. You nearly slipped right off the tile when your phone buzzed and you felt a cold shiver run down your spine.

"Hey, sorry about, y’know, earlier. Izzy and I are like that." You smiled at the sound of Leon's voice, now a bit hushed but more relaxed and carefree, like he now could say whatever the fuck he wanted.

"It's okay. It was cute, hearing how you talk to her. You're sweet." You smiled to yourself, and you could hear him breathe out a soft laugh, most likely a bit flustered by your words, but he otherwise didn't show it. "You put her to sleep though?"

"Yeah, I stayed with her 'til she fell asleep. I'm in my bedroom now, about to take a shower." He said the words slowly, with purpose, like he wanted you to think about it like he had been thinking about you, taking that bath. "So, you take your bath yet?"

"Yeah, it was nice. I definitely needed it. I could've used some company though." You bit your lip, testing his reaction. There was silence, then he hummed.

"Yeah? That so?" Now it was your turn to hum in agreement, your legs instinctively closing as you tried to soothe the ache between your thighs. "I'm sure you could've. Would've been nice to have someone hold you, right? Have someone leave kisses on your wet skin, say how good you're doing while getting your pretty pussy fingered?"

You couldn't hold back the moan that left your throat at his words, and your free hand instantly traveled down, stopping at your belly.

"Oh, that's a sound I'll never get tired of hearing. Fuck, you're already moaning for me and I'm not even there to give you a reason." He exhaled out a chuckle, his hardening cock starting to press against his sweatpants.

"Fuck, I really wish you were here." You sighed out, your hand itching closer towards your already wet cunt, but you knew it wasn't your touch you ached for. It was Leon's.

"Yeah? Why's that?"

You whined softly, your phone almost slipping off your grip as your head fell to the side. "Leon…"

"Tell me."

"Because… I really, really, need you to touch me, hold me, ugh— I just need you to fuck me, Leon."

Leon clenched his fist as his side, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he listened to your desperate words, and the sound shot straight to his cock. Fuck, he'd be lying if he said he didn't need you, too.

"Goddamn baby," He grunted softly, his hand now brushing the front of his sweats, where his cock strained against the material, and he tried to muffle the sound between his teeth, but you heard it anyway. "You have no fucking idea how much I've been wanting to ruin that pussy of yours again. It's actually driving me crazy."

You shuddered, the ache between your legs starting to become unbearable. "I really want to see you too, baby."

Leon closed his eyes, biting his lip raw as he thought fuck it. He could explain in the morning.

"Fuck it, just fuck it. Wanna take the drive here? I swear I'll give you exactly what you need and it'll be so worth it."

You'd like to think you were a rational person, you always thought things through twice, three times if necessary. You didn't take risks, much less acted in a way that could be considered immoral, but for Leon? Fuck, for that man you would become the biggest whore in this world if it meant he would take you just one more time.

"Be there in thirty."

Fuck it.

Sneak peek of A Love Game Part II, coming soon

His lips were hard on your own, messy on your jaw, like he didn't know which part he wanted to kiss more. Your fingers were entangled in his perfectly soft honey brown strands, already melting under his touch. His hand came up under your jaw to grip your face in place, long fingers sprawled out over your neck. He pulled you back by your face and his eyes were hard on you, with this mixture of authority and utter need to fuck you. He could be both.

"This is how this is gonna be. I'm going to throw you on that bed and fuck you the way you deserve. But I better not hear a single fucking sound leave those pretty lips of yours. Not tonight. Got it?"

Stay tuned for upcoming parts lovelies. Besitos<3

#leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #single!dad!leon #di!leon #single!dad!leon universe

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holybibly · 10 months ago

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girl i really dunno how to ask but ummm i...i mean WE need more preacher/saint/priest content....oh i just thought priest yunho with some cnc and bdsm........and maybe some watersports....oh. my. god. i died. my eyes are only seeing some whips, punishment and a lot of sin. bye.

Hi, honey, how are you? I really spoiled you, didn't I? But it seems that everyone is just as crazy about hot priests/pasors,preachers, and nuns as I am. Woo was hotter than hell when he was a priest, don't you think, bunnies?

I've already mentioned that I'll be doing a sequel for each member, but I'll tell you more so you can look forward to my updates.

Below I mention religious, hierophilia and church related topics. Bunnies, please refrain from reading if such content makes you uncomfortable. You have been warned!

Beware of False Prophets Demon San x Reader

Everyone in your town has been talking about the arrival of a new priest. The parishioners have been on their knees in praise of Pastor Choi San ever since he walked through the doors of your little church. He was devout, quiet, and, for a priest, incredibly handsome. He quickly became the object of admiration and wet dreams.

And you were not left out. The way his cat-like eyes would sometimes linger on you during Mass, or the way your name would roll off his tongue when he addressed you, made you blush with shame, not only at the dirty thoughts in your head but also at the fact that your panties were getting too wet just by looking at San.

But little did you know that Pastor Choi San had much more forbidden and depraved intentions towards you than that. Not all that glitters is gold, and not everyone is a saint who wears a holy robe.

It is said that one should beware of false prophets, for good intentions lead to hell. Or maybe the demon San will disguise himself as the new pastor of your church and try to tempt you into committing a sin.

Are you callin' me a sinner? Priest Yunho x Widow Reader

It was never in your wildest dreams that you'd be a widow at such a young age. Less than three months had passed since you got married when your husband tragically died, and this became the talk of your small town.

People walked past you, looked at you with disgust, closed their doors in front of you, and pointedly ignored you as if you had committed some mortal sin, which is probably what they thought you had done. You were so young and too beautiful, and your husband... Your husband was a man much older than you. You loved him; you really did, and losing him destroyed you. Your husband left you a huge fortune to inherit, and people whispered that you killed him to get money and to take a lover. Some even said you made a pact with the devil by killing your husband in return for your unearthly beauty and money. They said that you were a sinful brat.

Your only comfort at that time was faith, and you spent all your evenings in prayer and penance. One day, your housekeeper advised you to contact the priest, Jeong Yunho, describing him as a pious, compassionate, and gentle person who always showed mercy to everyone and granted the desired forgiveness of sins to all the troubled hearts. But she neglected to mention that Yunho was also an incredibly handsome young man who was more likely to tempt you to sin than to help you atone for it.

"I will help you get rid of your sins, my child." His hoarse voice whispered in your ear as he let the dress fall from your shoulders and down your back.

"I am going to cleanse you of the sin and the impurity of this world." Yunho said as he put a blindfold over your eyes and tied your hands behind your back.

"The only way you will be able to atone for your sins is through pain, and I will help you with that, my dear." He said this, accompanying his words with a lash of his whip across your bare skin.

Say yes to Heaven Pastor Yeosang x Libertine Reader

You never wanted to have anything as much as you wanted to have Kang Yeosang. He was handsome. He looked like an angel. He was everything that you ever wanted to sink your teeth into. He was your church's pastor. And that was what drove the hell out of you.

Yeosang was a simple man—an incredibly sweet and gentle man—who always helped his parishioners find the right path and to find God in their hearts. You, however, could brag about an endless list of sins and vices that you proudly displayed, like your favourite red lipstick. If given the chance, you would paint the whole town red, but mostly you wanted to see it smeared around Pastor Yeosang's handsome cock while you deepthroated him. The two of you came from completely different worlds—a saint and a sinner—but you had always believed that opposites attract.

Every mass was a game of seduction for you, and you wondered how far you could go before the angelic halo over Yeosang's head would crack and he would fuck you senseless. Although you had doubts that he could do it, you had a feeling that he was a virgin and would probably faint at the sight of a pink, wet pussy in front of his pretty angelic face. God, the boy was so holy and inexperienced about sex.

But how wrong you were about him! There are always two sides to every coin, and you will learn from experience that there are some desires that are better left as fantasies. Or the one where Pastor Yeosang fucks you to the last inch of your life and teaches you the concept of out-of-body experiences through orgasm.

Me and the Devil Lucifer Seonghwa x Reader Nun

From the day your parents took you to church for the first time, you knew that your life would be one of devotion to God. Of course, this was not the destiny your family wanted for you, but they still supported you on your way to becoming a virgin bride.

The convent where you lived to prepare for your vows was far from home and did not have the best reputation. But the priest of your parish convinced you that it was there, and nowhere else, that you could know God. And he was right; you did know God, but it was not the God to whom you prayed every night of your life.

It all began with dreams. Dark and unholy dreams came to you more and more often. The cold hands of a stranger sliding over your skin, a hot tongue exploring your body and lips as if sin itself were branding you with kisses, all ending with the first rays of dawn. Then this strange cat appeared and would not leave your side for a minute. But what frightened you most was the disappearance of the other nuns. One after the other, they vanished without a trace, until there were only a few novices left in the convent.

The night you took your vows was dark and moonless. So were the eyes of the dark-winged angel who appeared before you. It was as if he were woven of pure sin, depravity, and rage, oozing from his skin like ichor, and the rustle of his wings was the very sound you would hear before your death. But Angel, Lucifer, Seonghwa—call him what you like—came here with one goal: to finally get his bride.

"Do you have faith that your God will be the answer to your prayers, my beautiful bride? Do you believe that he is going to save you?" Seonghwa's lips touched your cheek, and his burning breath flowed across your skin. "You belong to me. Your soul, your faith, your body—all of it belongs to me. And you will accept me as your husband, dear child. Or you will say goodbye to your life at dawn."

There will be a separate post for Mingi, Jongho and Hongjoong. I am going to leave you in suspense, my little bunnies.

There's no harm in a bit of intrigue, is there?

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broosterradley · 11 months ago

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3 Is Better Than 2 - Pouts & Promises | Hangster x Reader

Warnings: Rooster x Reader, Hangman x Reader, swearing, mentions of smut, Jake and Bradley both being whipped for you, established relationship, poly relationship.

WC: 2k

All Content is mine, do not post to other sites.

The house was concerningly quiet when Bradley entered it at three PM on a Saturday, a bouquet of pink camellia’s in his hand that he couldn’t resist buying on the way out of the grocery store. “Hey, Hangman,” he called out as he set the keys to his Bronco down onto the kitchen counter.

He was met with more silence, and he wasn’t used to the place being so void of life. Is this what it felt like for you when the guys went on deployments? If so, he was never leaving you again.

“Jake?” He tried again, then glanced inside the garage and saw that the blond’s truck wasn’t in there.

Great, now he had to bring the groceries in by himself.

With a huff, Bradley made his way down the hall and peeked his head into your office, finding you sitting at your desk with your back to him. “Hey, princess,” he greeted as he entered the nicely decorated room. “I got you these.”

He held the flowers out in front of you since you had yet to turn and face him. “Thanks, Bradley,” you take them from him with a small smile.

“Where’d that guy go, huh?” He asked as he looked over at the photo of the three of you at the Hard Deck you had on your bookshelf. “I got some stuff to bring in.”

You turned in your chair and set the flowers aside, giving Bradley the first real look at your face since returning home. “I can help you,” you offer and stand up, moving to walk past him but he reaches out and halts you.

Bradley’s eyes narrow at the redness in your own, and he straightens up a bit as he gently grabs your waist with both hands. “What’s the matter, huh?” He softly asked when he saw the way your bottom lip quivered. “What’d he do this time, pretty girl?”

You shrugged, stepping forward and casting your gaze down at his chest. “Nothing, really,” you try to brush off his questions, but you knew by now that neither he or Jake take kindly to people upsetting you.

So on the rare occasion that it was one of them, the other didn’t let up. “Tell me, baby,” he coaxed, bringing his hand up and pulling at your lip with his thumb. “I hate seeing you look sad.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

“Don’t be sorry,” he murmured and kissed your forehead. “Just tell me what the fucker did so I have an excuse to kick his ass.”

That had you laughing a bit, like he knew it would, and when you pulled away to look up at him, you both wore small grins. “He just said something that hurt my feelings, is all,” you tell him, and Bradley knew you were still holding back because you hated pinning the two guys against each other.

“What did he say?” He asked and you gave him a wary look. “I won’t get mad at him too much, princess, promise. Tell me what he said.”

Bradley was definitely the softer one out of him and Jake, but he was also the one who is more protective over you. He wasn’t afraid to smack some sense into his fellow aviator, and he had on more than one occasion.

Jake was newer to relationships as he slept around before settling down with you, and with Bradley by default, though the men had a small distaste for one another.

They put up with each other only for you, and you were well aware of the power you held over them.

“It’s fine, Bradley,” you try to wave him off again, but he gives you a look that has you sighing in defeat. “He just said…that I’m ungrateful and that I should be more respectful when I talk to him. Maybe I was acting like a bit of a brat earlier…I didn’t mean to, I swear. I’m sorry.”

You spoke quickly as if you were scared that Bradley would lash out on you in the way Jake had apparently done earlier.

He shook his head and wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling you up against his chest with a soft grunt. “I’m not mad, baby,” he assured you, kissing the top of your head when you relaxed in his hold. “Not at you.”

“Don’t be mad at Jake, please,” you begged softly, bunching up the fabric of his black tee in your hands. “He hurt my feelings, but I don’t want him to be ganged up on. Please, Bradley?”

He looked down at your pretty face and held back a moan at how fucking cute and sweet you are. Jake had upset you earlier, but you still didn’t want him to receive the earful Bradley was already planning on giving him.

He wanted to throw you over his shoulder and take you to bed right now, because how could you possibly be this perfect? “Okay, princess,” he agreed, brushing your hair out of your face and pressing a deep kiss to your lips. “I won’t be too mean to him, okay? But I am going to talk to him.”

You sigh but nod, knowing that he wouldn’t let Jake think he could hurt your feelings and not face the consequences. “Okay,” you place your hands flat against his chest and gaze up at him with wide eyes. “You said you have stuff to bring in?”

Bradley nodded and pulled you back to his chest when you tried to walk past him. “But you’re not going to help me with it,” he stated, and you pouted at him. He pulled on your lip again before leaning down to kiss you. Hard. “You’re going to go into the bedroom, okay? I’m gonna show you the respect you deserve.”

You bite down gently on your lip as you press your thighs together. “Are you sure?”

Bradley nodded and kissed you one last time before guiding you out of your office and pushing you towards your room. “Wait for me, okay? I want to take those clothes off you myself,”

You whimper and nod, turning around and quickly making your way to the bedroom.

Bradley watched you until he couldn’t anymore, and then he turned and went back outside. Once he brought the last bag in, he pulled off his top and dropped it onto the kitchen floor, leaving it for Jake to discover later as he headed towards the room, planning to get you off in all the ways he’s done before, but this time by himself.

He made you cum on his fingers, tongue and cock over and over again until you were crying for him to fill you up, and when he did, you kept him close for a long time after.

He whispered soft praises to you as you came down, a light layer of sweat covering the both of you as you held each other until you fell asleep.

It was still early in the evening, but Bradley decided to let you have a quick rest after the bad morning you had with Jake.

He pulled his jeans back on and made his way into the kitchen, pausing by the living room when he saw Jake sitting on the couch, Bradley’s shirt in his hand and an unreadable look on his face. “Hey,” the brunet greeted in a stiff voice. “Dick.”

Jake huffed as Bradley began walking again, and he followed him into the kitchen. “I know, I’m an asshole,” he muttered as he threw the shirt onto the barstool.

“Yeah, you are,” Bradley agreed as he started to put away the groceries.

Jake sighed and sat at the breakfast bar, green eyes full of guilt as he asked, “Is she mad?”

“No, she’s not mad,” Bradley answered with a humorless laugh. “But you hurt her feelings. Why are you such a prick to her sometimes? Do you realize how fucking lucky we are? Because I do.”

“I know, I don’t deserve her,” Jake said under his breath as Bradley shoved the bags into a bigger one and tossed it onto the top shelf in the pantry cupboard. “You’re so good to her, it’s hard to compete sometimes.”

“No one’s competing, Jake,” Bradley scoffed, grabbing his shirt and walking towards the laundry room. “If you haven’t noticed, she’s ours. All ours. She isn’t expecting us to one up each other all the time.”

Jake huffed again and leaned back. “Where is she?”

It was silent for a few seconds before Bradley came back into the kitchen, this time wearing a white muscle tee and a Hawaiian printed shirt. “In bed. Where I left her after ensuring her that she’s not ungrateful or a brat,”

“She thinks she’s a brat?”

“Yeah, she even apologized for it and didn’t want me to go off on you like you deserve,”

“Fuck,” Jake groaned as he stood up. “I’m such a dick.”

Bradley nodded with a tight smile. “Yep,” then pointed in the direction of your room. “Go say sorry, then get ready. We’re going to the Hard Deck.”

Jake nodded, pushing past him and going down the hall where Bradley assumed you were still sleeping. He went back into your office as he heard Jake open the bedroom door, and he took the flowers and put them in a vase with water as he waited for you and Jake to kiss and makeup.

“Y/n?” Jake asked as he poked his head into the room. You were propped up against the pillows with a frown on your lips, and Jake felt his heart break a bit at the sight. “I’m sorry, sweet girl.”

You huff and look away as Jake enters the room and sits down beside you on the messy bed. “For what?”

“Everything,” he answered and took your hand in his, surprised that you actually let him. He had to give it to him, Bradley was damn good at putting you in a better mood. “I didn’t mean what I said, honey. I was out of line, I’m sorry.”

You don’t meet his eyes as you shrug, and you looked so cute in the shirt he recognized as his own. “It’s fine,”

“It’s not fine,” he rasped, kissing the back of your hand repeatedly. “You deserve better than me, sweetheart. I’m so sorry for what I said to you. You’re not ungrateful, and you’re so good to me. I love you, you know that?”

You look over at him with a small smile. “I know,” you say quietly, lacing your fingers with his. “I love you, too, I just…I don’t know. Maybe I was acting like a bitch earlier, I’m sorry-”

Jake shook his head and moved to wrap his arms around you. “You’re not a bitch, sweetheart,” he promised and kissed your temple. “You’re so sweet, far too sweet for me, but I’m so glad I’m yours, honey. I wouldn’t have it any other way; you, me…and I guess Rooster.”

You laughed and leaned up to kiss his jaw. “Roo helped me feel better,” you pointed out and Jake sighed.

“I know, and he shouldn’t have to do that. I shouldn’t be acting like a prick to you in the first place,” he pressed a kiss to the side of your neck before standing up. “Bradley’s an alright guy, I guess. He wants to go out tonight, so you and I need to get ready.”

You grin at him and crawl over to the edge of the bed. “Shower with me?” You sweetly ask as you hold your arms out to him.

Jake smiled down at you as he effortlessly picked you up. “How could I say no to that?” He smirked as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “I’ll do better, sweet girl. I promise.”

He knew Bradley probably wore you out while he was cheering you up, so he wasn’t planning on having a quickie with you in the shower. Instead, he massaged your hair and body as he washed you, telling you how much he adores and loves you as he did so. That alone gave him pleasure.

And if you ended up in between both guys once you returned home, then that was just a bonus.

236 notes · View notes

i80010 · 1 year ago

Text

Talking’s Overrated

featuring : Eren Yeager x fem!reader

content : MDNI, smut, Eren is whipped, he’s also a little shit, mean dom!eren if you squint, car sex, fingering, mutual masturbation, squirting, multiple orgasms, anal play, creampie, hair pulling, full nelson, friends with benefits to lovers sorta, reader is sort of a brat idk, Eren loves hair pulling, ddlg vibes if you use a magnifying glass, a little dumbification, reader has her ears pierced, Eren spits in reader’s mouth, slight degradation, DEFTONES MENTION!!!

word count : 5.7k

synopsis : After Eren ends your little fling, he asks to talk it out with you one late night. You find out he believes talking is overrated.

notes : hi guys!!! i’m angel, and this is my first ever fic and it took me weeks to work on, so notes, reblogs and constructive criticism are all welcomed! hope you enjoy my loves<3

- Come outside

Your stomach flips as you read the notification on your screen, hesitantly swiping it away. It’s late on a Thursday night, it’s quiet. Your room is shrouded in darkness, only illuminated by the blaring brightness of your phone screen. You continue to scroll through Instagram, giggling at Hitch’s close friends, when another message comes through.

- Let’s talk

Talking. You chew your cheek. When was the last time you two had spoken?

“Friend, huh? Is that what I am to you?” His hands caged your head against the bathroom wall. He leaned closer, dropping his head to meet your gaze, his breath minty and warm. “Is fucking each other what friends do?”

“It was a-“

“A mistake? Is that what you think of us?” Eren was dangerously close to you now, his lips ghosting across yours.

“I never said it was a mistake,” You chewed your lip nervously as you drew in a shaky breath, “Just a one time thing.”

“There’s no fucking difference, you either want this or you don’t. You know how I feel about this,” his breath fanned over your face, your eyes flutter closed, “About you,” he pauses.

“Don’t deny me, please, let me know I’m not alone in this,” he was almost pleading now, his voice soft and strangled.

You let your head fall back, gently knocking against the wall. “Eren, I-“, you looked at him, how the sharp contours of his jaw had been softened into slopes by the low, luminescent lighting. Your eyes trailed over him slowly, like he was a wonder of the world.

Striking, green eyes, framed by long, dark lashes. A pointed Roman nose, above his plump, rosy lips and the set of shiny white teeth behind them. His smooth, olive skin, akin to sculpted sandstone. He was everything you could have asked for, everything you needed, and that was entirely too much to ask of him.

You shook your head at him, dropping his gaze ashamedly. The air in the room staled.

Eren scoffed, and his hands fell from their place on the wall. “Fine, you want to fuck Jean, go for it,” he runs a hand down his face frustratedly, “thanks for letting me know where I stand, and that this meant absolutely nothing to you.”

“Eren, that’s not-“

“Shut the fuck up, okay? You don’t get to have a say in this, you don’t get to fuck with my feelings and then tell me it’s fine. You don’t get to-“, he blows out a short breath, recollecting his thoughts. He starts again, slower, calmer, quieter, “You don’t get to break my heart and tell me that’s not what you meant, okay?”

He waits for a response, and you wait for him to shout again. You have a moment of silence, despite the muffled Deftones bleeding through the walls. Eren turns to leave, but his hand hesitates over the doorknob. Opening his mouth to speak, he casts you one more angry - no, pained - glance, and swallows.

“Do you regret this?”

You don’t respond.

The door slams behind Eren. You don’t follow him.

The door slams behind you as you step into the midnight chill, dressed in only a hoodie and shorts. The night air bites at your legs and you flex your hands at your sides routinely. The world outside is serene - illuminated only by the spindly street lamps stationed on the sidewalk. Your heart sputters at the sight of Eren’s car, parked crookedly in your driveway - you can’t even see through his tinted windows. The low hum of his engine rattles his car gently, like a small, mobile refrigerator.

When you get to the passenger side, you swing the door open, slide into the plush leather seat, and close the door, all without sparing Eren a second glance. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat, legs spread wide apart, in a black hoodie and grey sweats. He shifts his hips upwards as he readjusts his sitting position, his eyes never leaving your shivering figure.

He rakes over your oversized hoodie, your bare legs, your pretty, pretty face. He lingers on your face for a second too long, then he grins when he sees you press your thighs together.

“You cold?”

“Yeah, a little,” Eren hums in response as he drums his fingers against the steering wheel. His rings glint in the muted glare of the moonlight.

“Want me to turn on the heating?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” You watch as he cranks the dial up to max, and the warm air almost instantaneously rushes out of the AC vents. You slump back into your seat, revelling in the warmth. A thin film of condensation falls onto the windows, mottling the midnight scenery outside.

“So,” Eren begins cooly, “how have you been?”

His voice was oddly impartial, and you knew better than to trust Eren’s nonchalance. You look at him side-long, attempting to uncover any unkind inflections. You’re met with a lazy smile and a glint in his eyes that stokes the warmth between your legs, warmer than any heater can make you.

“I’ve been good.” A small, charged beat passes. “You?”

“I’ve been good too,” he hums. He licks his lips cockily when he asks, “Have you missed me?”

You’re a delicate instrument, and Eren wants to know if he can still remember how to play you, how to tune you to his liking.

You surrender to his disarming smile.

You breathe in. “Yeah, I did.”

Eren huffs out a quiet laugh and lets his head fall against the window. “I’ve missed you too.”

You breathe out. “Really?”

He grins. “Of course, I have.”

He slowly leans across the console, “What,” he murmurs softly, “You don’t believe me?”

You squirm in your seat, flustered by his unwavering gaze. His eyes are low, and swimming with mirth. He cradles your face in his hand and your eyes flutter shut when he drags his nose along your jaw.

Your breaths are shallower now. You’re supposed to be talking, talking about you, talking about your relationship, talking about anything but how much you yearned for each other the past weeks.

You tilt your head sideways, facing him, and tentatively press your forehead to his. He’s rendered you breathless within minutes. You are drowning in him - his sight, his scent, his touch - you can’t talk, let alone breathe, not when he’s taking up all the space in the car.

All notions of reconciliation are abandoned when he presses a fleeting kiss to the shell of your ear, and then whispers, “Do I have to prove it?”

You draw in a shuddering breath.

“Please.”

His lips press into yours, hot and wet, as you lace your hands into his hair. He tastes of peppermint and marijuana. His hand trails from your cheek to your throat, squeezing gently, coaxing a small moan from you. Skimming his thumb over your pulse, his tongue slips into your mouth and you suck on it gently. Your hands tug at the hair interlocked between your fingers, and Eren releases a loud groan into your mouth.

“C’mere,” he mumbles against you. His hands slip under your thighs, and he gently manoeuvres you over the center console and into his lap. You shudder when you feel him beneath you, large and thick and impossibly hard. You roll your hips against the tent in his pants experimentally, and it pulls a moan from both of you.

He pulls away - his lips slick and swollen, still connected to yours by limp strings of saliva - to rasp, “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much, you know that?”

There is nothing other than reverence in his eyes as he surveys you. Your chest is already heaving, you’re flushed from your neck to your ears, and your lips are a dark, kiss-bitten red. An angel.

My angel, Eren thinks.

You hum in response and dip your head to capture his lips again. His cock is already dribbling precum, staining his sweats a dark grey. You run your tongue along his bottom lip, before sinking your teeth into it. His dick twitches.

Eren pulls away, again, to mutter huskily, “You’re so mean, baby, what am I gonna do with you?” before sliding his lips along your jaw. His lips leave a blazing trail behind them, and his hands are just as hot.

His fingers slip under the hem of your hoodie, pressing small circles into your skin that make you writhe in his lap. His lips stretch into a smirk as he descends down the column of your throat, pausing every now and again to suck bruises into your skin. His hands tug at your hoodie, with a muttered, “Off.”

You scramble to take off your oversized sweater in the confines of Eren’s car, and in your flurry of movements, you elbow the horn behind you. You jolt at the sudden squawk, but Eren’s grip on your waist keeps you grounded. He chuckles lightheartedly.

“Easy, we don’t want your neighbours knowing we’re out here, right?” he teases you. Pouting, you discard your hoodie into the passenger seat and watch Eren’s jaw go slack at the sight of your bare chest.

“No bra?” Eren immediately takes your left nipple into his hot, wet mouth and your back arches, “You’re so good to me, baby.”

You keen as he rolls the other nipple in his fingers, content with how they pebbled due to the chill of the night. He releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop and places sloppy, open-mouthed kisses in the valley between your breasts. His large, calloused hands fondle your breasts languidly, his cock twitching in his briefs. Moaning softly, you roll your hips against him, desperate for friction, and whimper out a needy, “Eren, please.”

He lazily grins up at you. He is so insufferable - “What do you need, baby?”

You attempt to roll your hips again, but Eren’s hands keep you stationary, “I need you.”

“Yeah? You want me to take these off for you?” He tugs at your skimpy shorts, and he chuckles when you nod enthusiastically, “Hips up, baby.” He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your thong, and he sweeps off your underwear and shorts, so you’re sitting bare in his lap. He wolf-whistles at the sight of you, pressing a few kisses to your collarbone.

Your tits, full, warm and round, your waist, melded to Eren’s touch, your thighs, plush and soft, either side of Eren’s lap, your pussy, glistening in the light, dripping onto his sweats - you’re so undeniably sexy, even more so in the moonlight painting you silver.

He runs his hands up and down your waist, enjoying the way you squirm under his touch. His lips are still swollen from your kisses, and his eyes are glazed with adoration. If you squint, you can see the hearts dancing in his eyes. Your heart flutters.

You’re Eren’s, his to hold, his to fuck, his to love. He doesn’t deserve you - he knows that much - but he is willing to ruin your friendship if it meant being able to see you like this again.

His eyes widen when he sees you palm your breasts, spilling out of the gaps between your fingers. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and warmth courses between your legs.

“Stop it.”

Eren is snapped out of his reverie by your voice. He clears his throat briefly. “Stop what?”

You wiggle on his lap, juggling your tits, smiling coyly, “Staring.”

He grins at you, brazen, “Never.”

His breath fans against your chest, hot, and his tongue slides across your sternum, hotter. He pulls you in for another kiss, a slower, softer one this time, and lets his hands roam around you freely. One hand rests on the small of your back, the other sliding down the plane of your stomach to where you need him most.

Your hips buck to meet him halfway. “Please, Eren-“

His fingers finally come into contact with your core, and you let out a strained whimper at his fleeting touch. He ghosts over your clit, chuckling at your displeasure. Just as you are about to whine again, he starts applying pressure to your swollen nub - just enough to make your head spin - as he clicks his tongue.

“Patience, baby. No more whining, you know I’ll give it to you good.“ He dips a finger between your folds, running it along your slit, before plunging it into you.

You gasp quietly as he begins thrusting it in and out of you. His fingers are long and thick, adorned with thick silver rings, nestled against that gummy spot that makes your knees weak. The stretch is delicious, something your fingers could never achieve. You can hear the squelch squelch squelch echo around the car before he even adds another finger. You’re mildly aware that you’re dripping down his wrist, but your mind is too foggy with pleasure to feel an inkling of shame. You’ve never been this wet for anyone before, and your heart hammers wildly in your chest.

“You hear that baby?” Eren teases you, “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?” You whimper and bury your head into the crook of his neck. He slides in another finger, stretching you open, open, open. His rings graze your clit and you hum eagerly. You resort to bouncing on his hand, your gut beginning to tighten. Eren’s fingers still as he watches you. His voice is lowered to a husky drawl - “Go on, I want to see your cum on my fingers. Use me, baby.”

You begin to rock your hips faster, encouraged by his coos, the flames in your gut beginning to spread. Your gyrations become erratic and uneven. You pant into his ear wantonly, your breasts bouncing with your every move.

Gritting his teeth, Eren throws his head back. Moan by moan, you’re sending him closer to the edge. The hold you have on him is debilitating, and he’ll finish soon - untouched - if you don’t stop whining into his ear like a bitch in heat.

“Look at me,” Eren commands suddenly, tugging your hair. “I want to see you cum for me.”

Placing your hands on his shoulders, holding his gaze, you grind your clit against the heel of his palm. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your legs lock around his waist at this newfound degree of pleasure. Moans are tumbling out of you unrestrained now, your voice high, whiny and loud. You are on the brink of orgasm, painstakingly close, and as Eren tugs your hair again, you lose it.

Your vision blurs and your legs shake as the world stutters on its axis. You spasm and clench around Eren’s hand, dripping onto the seat below you. Pleasure washes over you in waves, each one less intense than the last. You fall into Eren’s chest, breathing heavily as you come down from your high.

Eren looks at the mess you’ve made, chews his lip - letting out a low fuuuuck - before asking if, “You’re okay?”

You hum in response, barely registering Eren’s question. He flips you swiftly, and your back is now flush with his chest. His hoodie is warm and scratchy against your skin. Eren tugs your hair again, lighter this time, and you look at up him, eyes wide and glazed over.

Eren sucks in a breath as he stares at you, basking in your post-orgasm glow. Your skin shimmers in the dim light filtered through his windscreen, casting your face half in shadow. Your eyes are low and your chest heaves with your sharp and fast inhales. He brings his hand up to your cheek, swiping his thumb under your eye, the other cupping your sex.

“I could cum just looking at you,” he murmurs.

You lean into his embrace, whispering, “I can cum just thinking about you.”

A hoarse groan spills from his throat, and a hard slap is landed to your clit. Your whole body lurches as you mewl loudly.

“Is that right?” he chuckled breathlessly, “Do you think about me when you touch this dirty little pussy of yours at night?” You nod avidly, and he rewards you with a few harsh circles to your clit.

“Show me,” he said, leaning forward to watch his fingers play with your pussy, “Show me how hard you cum when you think about me.” He hoists you up so he can shove his sweats halfway down his thighs - no underwear? God, he’s such a slut - and your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, bobbing between your legs.

It was long, and girthy, the head flushed to an angry red. Precum dribbled steadily from the tip, trickling down his shaft in translucent streams. A bulging vein runs down the underside of his cock, straight to where his balls sit, heavy and warm. Gripping his cock at the base, he smacks the bulbous head again your clit twice. Your legs spasm either side of him and he smirks before spitting, a fat glob of saliva landing onto your puffy clit.

He taps your clit again, gentler, encouraging, as he urges you, “Touch yourself, baby. I won’t ask again.” The shift in his tone is evident as his eyes darken, forest green now a deep viridian. You bite your bottoms lip as you slide a hand down your body, the other idly kneading your left breast.

Your fingers draw lazy circles around your entrance before dipping a finger between your folds. You sigh breathily, allowing your head to fall against his shoulder, and Eren begins pumping himself slowly. You slip a finger into yourself, before bringing it back up to your lips. Eren watches keenly as you suck your essence off your fingers, then dip them back between your legs. You purr as you thrust two fingers into yourself, massaging that gummy spot that makes you dizzy. You begin to go faster, synchronous to the pumps of Eren’s hands.

His grunts are low and heavy in your ears, goading you to, “Go faster, I want to see you cum all over your fingers like the slut you are.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy, your fingers now hammering into your little hole, coaxing little spurts of arousal out of you with every pump. Eren uses your cum as a lubricant, slicking his shaft as he fists his cock aggressively. His dick nearly glitters in the moonlight, lathered in a milky sheen of your arousal. He snakes his vacant hand up your body, briefly squeezing your throat, your pulse hammering beneath his fingertips.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream, and he takes the opportunity to shove his fingers into your mouth. He watches saliva pool in your mouth, before spitting in it. You hum delightedly, your face so vacant with pleasure it makes Eren curse. As Eren pulls his fingers out of your mouth, spit dribbles down your chin and into the concaves of your collarbone.

“Such a messy girl, aren’t you?” he coos. You blink slowly, and then nod blankly. “Bet you don’t even know what I said, huh? So cockdrunk already,” he tuts at you lovingly as he brings his free hand to your second entrance.

When he circles your puckered hole, you gasp quietly. He shushes you tenderly, and he feels you give way beneath his finger tips.

“Good girl, gonna let me have all of you, right?” you agree mindlessly, dazed in the pursuit of your orgasm. He chuckles at you, how dumb you are for him, before slipping a finger into you, knuckle deep. Your body contorts and you let out a sharp cry. Eren grips the base of his cock to prevent the orgasm threatening to crest at the sound of your cries.

Even with one finger down there, you feel so full, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You slam your free hand on the steamy window, plastering a hand-shaped spyhole onto it. Your fingers speed up and you begin to pant when you sense your core begin to twist.

“Eren- I’m so close, fuck,” Eren slides a second finger into your ass and you let out a loud, debauched, filthy moan. You lick your lips longingly, watching beads of precum drip over Eren’s hands as he smears it over his shaft.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Eren grunts against your neck, “Gonna make me cum.”

Knowing Eren was here, with you, being driven to the edge by your wanton cries and unabashed pleasure, sends you toppling headfirst into your second orgasm of the night.

Your back arches wildly and you wail out Eren’s name as you shake and convulse. You twitch violently around Eren’s fingers, simultaneously gushing onto yours. Your wrist is dripping with your arousal, as is Eren’s entire cock. As you thrash on his lap, he slowly retracts his fingers from your ass.

He slides his lips along your jaw, his tongue darting out to taste the sweat beaded along your face, before tilting your head with a large hand and kissing you. You suck on his bottom lip before sinking your teeth into it softly, just how he likes it.

With a throaty moan, Eren follows you and hot, thick ropes of cum shoot out from his cock. They drape over your thighs, the steering wheel and your stomach like silvery garlands of pearls. He lets out a small grunt as the last spurts fall limply onto his hand.

You whine breathily as he rubs his cock through your folds. He gently rolls his hips upwards, and his balls hit your round ass with a small plap. He pulls away from your heated kiss, and you chase his lips desperately - you’re pathetic.

The head of his massive cock aligns with your belly button and Eren, gripping his shaft by the base, taps his tip against your navel, admiring the thin strings of precum that linger.

His voice drips with sadistic enthusiasm when he drawls, “I’m gonna be in your stomach, baby. Can you take it?”

“Eren, please, I need you.” You roll your hips against the hard length of his member.

He chuckles at your wanton desperation. “You want it, baby?” You nod fervently. “How bad?”

“So, so, so bad, please fuck me, Eren.” Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, and your eyes lock onto his with blind adoration. He presses a quick kiss to your hairline, and then your forehead.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He presses his cock against your entrance, slowly, slowly, slowly pushing past that tight ring of muscle. You sigh dreamily as Eren nibbles on your earlobe, occasionally tugging at your piercings.

He pauses briefly when he bottoms out. You squirm in his arms before he scolds you, slapping your inner thigh harshly. The eerie silence of the world around you fades into your ears ringing when he slowly - agonisingly - begins thrusting. His cock drags along your walls perfectly with every precise roll of his hips. His groans echo around the car. The joint sounds of your ecstasy nearly drown out the lewd squelches between your legs.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when Eren hammers your g-spot. You squeeze your eyes shut as you feel your release begin to crest. Eren’s breath is hot against your neck and his muttered praises cloud your brain.

One of your hands travels up to entangle itself in Eren’s hair. He turns and plants a wet kiss on your palm. His thrusts become more rapid and shallow as you clench around him. You feel the car rock in time with his thrusts and you sigh happily.

You want your neighbours to know you’re getting fucked senseless. You want the world to know how good you’re getting it right now. Though now, your world has you spread on his lap like a fuckdoll and is pounding you like an animal.

You hiccup as Eren sinks his teeth into your palm. “You okay, pretty girl? Been quiet for a while.” When you nod, he presses his wet lips to your cheek, plastering his smile on you. He slides a hand down to your clit and begins rubbing it in small, quick circles. “No worries, I’ll have you screamin’ my name in no time. Gonna turn you into my little rag-doll.”

Your back arches as his thrusts also pick up speed. Every thrust has your legs trembling and voice cracking.

“Eren- fuck, it’s so good,” you babble in your gut-wrenching pleasure.

“Yeah?” His smirk is hot against your neck. He whispers, “How good?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he thrusts impossibly faster. Your hands dig into his biceps and when you feel blood bead at the skin, he hisses in pleasure.

“So good, no one does it like you, Eren.”

He throws his head back with a hearty groan. God, you don’t know what you do to him. Every time he thinks you’ve lured him in deep enough, he finds himself diving into you again, until he’s drowning in your wet, warm depths.

Your eyes meet his again. Your lashes flutter and Eren presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead after brushing away the hair plastered to it.

“Oh, yeah? It’s that good?” You nod lazily, your body jolting with the force of his thrusts. He takes one of your tits in his palm and squeezes hard. He lowers his mouth to yours, and you wet your lips in anticipation. “You gotta cum all over me then.”

You do. Ecstasy dances down your spine as you cry out his name. You squeeze your eyes shut as your clamp down on Eren’s cock. White flashes behind your eyelids like fireworks. You moan his name again and again and again and he tells you he knows, he knows, he knows. Your arousal drips down his shaft, leaving a glistening trail past his balls and onto the padded leather beneath you both.

“Good girl,” he coos. He brings the fingers circling your clit up to your lips, and you dart your tongue out to taste yourself.

His pace never relents, not even when you’re sobbing wildly. The aftershocks of your previous orgasm fade, and you’re already teetering on the edge of another. You wring your hands in the sweat-sodden material of his hoodie. You sob, “I’m gonna cum again.”

“Already?” he tuts and laughs, his voice husky and low. He hums in approval before pinching your nipple tightly. The pain elicits a sweet, little cry from you. His voice is strangled when he asks, “Tell me what you need.”

“More, I need more, I need it harder,” you whine into his neck. You nuzzle into his collarbone, deeply inhaling his warm, vanilla cologne.

“You want harder? I’ll give you harder, you little slut,” he grunts as he hooks his arms under your knees, pinning them to your chest. The change in position angles his cock so deep into you, you can feel him in your throat. When you feel the head of his cock ram into your cervix, you shriek - half pain, half pleasure - and Eren swallows your cries with a wet and sloppy kiss, much like the mess between your legs.

Incoherent moans tumble from your mouth, your eyes find sanctuary in the back of your head and your wetness floods the seat below you. The sharp pain makes you gasp, makes your toes curl. The pads of Eren’s fingers are warm against your knees and his breath is searing against your neck. He continues to split you open on his cock, intent on ruining you on his lap.

He lifts his head to observe you, to admire your undoing. Your skin is sweaty and flushed, your lashes beaded with tears, your lips swollen and bitten. You’re a sight for sore eyes, a glimpse of heaven in his arms. Your eyes snap to his and you whimper in shame, mustering up the scraps of dignity you had remaining, shying away from the ferocity in his eyes.

Eren chuckles dryly at you. He calls your name. Once. Twice. You shake your head and bury it into your chest.

“Oh, no, no, no.” His hands come to rest on the back of your head, arms still hooked under your knees, and he roughly yanks your head back to look at him.

You gasp, “Eren-“

“Look at me.” Your eyes lock onto his. “Look at this.” He tilts your head down, maintaining his ruthless pace, “Look at you, baby, getting so wet for me.”

You laugh and sob, surveying the mess you’ve created. Your arousal is spread between your lap - thick, slimy strings connecting your thighs to Eren’s. Your lips are stretched around his width, suctioning him into you with lewd squelches. It’s so wet and sloppy and messy and it’s so, so perfect.

“Feels so- so, so good, baby, fuck,” you babble this out to Eren and he belts out his handsome, disarming laugh.

“Yeah? Bet it does.” You melt even further into his touch when he places a kiss to the crown of your head.

Watching yourself get split open by Eren sends you hurtling towards your release, so you breathe out a quiet, “Cumming.”

Eren chuckles, drops his lips to your ear, and murmurs, “Are you asking or telling me?”

You shake your head weakly. “Don’t make me beg.”

He chuckles quietly, deciding to take mercy on you. Eren sinks his teeth into your earlobe before he gives you a deep, hard thrust, and then commands you to, “Cum.”

Your legs go limp as the world stutters on its axis. The pleasure is mind-numbingly intense and white-hot bursts of relief wrack your body rhythmically. Your mouth gapes in a silent scream as Eren slams himself into your cervix again and again. Hot tears roll down your cheeks, and your head kills back onto his shoulder, too weak to watch yourself cum around him.

Your arousal, clear and copious, sprays everywhere in his car : his seat, the steering wheel, the windscreen, even your body. Eren moans at the sight of you squirting all over his car, you marking your territory. You shudder helplessly in his grasp, succumbing to the heat dousing your limbs. If not for Eren’s tight grip on you, you would have collapsed.

He keeps going, keeps thrusting, desperate to join you in the pleasure of orgasm. His thrusts become sloppier, but no less deep. You mewl with every pump of his hips against yours, overly sensitive and stimulated.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he pants, strained and shaky, in your ear.

You moan at the thought of his hot, thick cum filling you up. “Inside, Eren, please, please, please-“

He cuts you off with a pained groan, “Fuck, you know I can’t do that.”

“Please, Eren, please,” you plead with him, your eyes wide and glassy, “Don’t I deserve it?”

His eyes snap shut and he lets out a shaky, ragged breath. “Shit, you’re making this really hard for me.” His hips pummel you faster, shallower, irregular, as if he’s losing his restraint.

Fuck it, he’s come this far, and he can’t say no to you. “You want it, baby? You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I need it Eren, please give it to me,” you whimper desperately.

“Fuck,” he whines as he thrusts into you a final time, unloading himself into you. Sighing happily, you press a kiss to his cheek as you feel the warm spurts of cum paint your insides. He only pulls out when he stops pulsing inside you, wincing slightly.

Eren slumps against your shoulder, his chest rattling with every breath. Your hands tangle into his thick, chestnut hair. He grunts in approval. Quick, fleeting kisses are pressed to your shoulders and you shudder. Your movement reminds you of the mess between your legs, and you suddenly feel filthy.

“Eren,” your voice is nothing more than a whisper.

Eren’s response is muffled by your neck. “Yes, baby?”

You sniffle. “I’m messy,” Eren jerks up, seemingly rejuvenated after remembering the importance of aftercare.

“Shit, sorry, I’ll clean you up now,” he reaches for your hoodie and starts wiping at your inner thighs. He grins up at you over your shoulder - “You really made a mess huh?”

You shuffle awkwardly in his lap. You had squirted on his sunroof, a mess was an understatement.

The corners of his lips pull upwards into a smirk, “Don’t worry about it, ‘m getting my car detailed anyway.” Humming when he’s deemed you clean, he rotates you so you’re eye to eye. His eyes twinkle with undulating lust as he wipes away your tears. “You good?”

You nod meekly, nuzzling his calloused palm.

He pinches your thigh. “Don’t get all shy on me now, you were being real loud earlier.” He tosses the hoodie into the backseat before placing kisses to both of your breasts. His brows pinch at the slightly pensive expression plastered on your face.

He tugs your hair lightly. “Do you want me to get you a Plan B? We can-“

“We were supposed to be talking, Eren,” you wrong your hands in his shirt.

A cocky grin spread across Eren’s face. “Oh, she was definitely talking to me,” he moves to cup your sex, but you swat his hand away. His smile drops at the deflated look in your face.

Sighing, you ask, “Are we ever going to talk about this?”

He frowns, brushing your hair out of your face. “I thought we were gonna forget about it? One time thing, you know?”

You sigh softly and slip your hands under the hem of his shirt. As you run your hands along the ridges of Eren’s abdomen, his cock bobs.

“We can’t keep using that as an excuse to-“

“Do you regret it?”

“Huh?” Your head snaps up to meet his gaze and his eyes are glinting mischievously.

Squeezing your face between his fingers, Eren pulls your face towards his. His tongue slides along your bottom lip before he reclines. “Do you regret this? Us?”

You swallow.

You don’t respond.

But this time, Eren knows better.

He captures you in a slow, sloppy kiss. His lips meld to yours as he murmurs, “I don’t think we have to talk about anything then.” He sucks your bottom lip slowly, letting it swell in his mouth, before smirking impishly as he rasps, “Talking’s overrated.”

#eren yeager #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader smut #this is my baby #pls be nice #very new to this so idk what happens next #i need him #angel’s fics

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luimagines · 9 months ago

Note

IM LATE IM LATE IM SO LATE OH MYGOD anyways Divorce hcs with the links?? :3

Sure. Let's cry today. And naturally this has to come from you since this was your idea. :)

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Hyrule

Easily takes it the worse out of everyone.

Like hello? He tried so hard to not only work up the courage to get past his insecurities, but to also allow himself the privilege vulnerability in a world that's actively hunting him down

AND ACCEPT THEIR LOVE IN RETURN!?!?!

That would have been years in the making

And then to have it ripped away from him??

To be on cloud nine than have the rug pulled form under him?

You think it's not going to go bad? that he's not going to be depressed?

That he's not going to rethink everything that led up to that point?

How bad are you willing to bet that it's going to get? Because I'm thinking potential self harm in whatever manner it may be- for better or for worse- since he no longer cares about what happens to him

If the entire world wasn't hanging by the threat of his blood being spilled, he probably wouldn't have survived that kind of hit, you know?

Not to mention that he's probably going to be able to look at you for a long time afterwards.

Every time he does he's reminded that despite his best efforts and every humble thing he had to offer you, it wasn't enough.

Hyrule: Is doing his best to make things work

You: Yeah, it's not working

If he was trying to save a sinking ship by throwing out all the water with a bucket, why didn't you say something earlier?

Or maybe you did but clearly things just weren't the same.

But after a while, his doubts and insecurities rear their ugly head

You knew... you knew that it wouldn't be the easy life, living with him. You knew. He told you. He laid everything on the table for you since the beginning.

Why did you agree then?

Why couldn't you have simply turned him down to begin with?

It would have hurt. But he would have been past the hurt by this point.

He would have already healed

He spent so long invested in this to make sure you wouldn't regret choosing him

And he's here anyway.

Not that he's ever going to say this out loud.

He's aware enough that you're allowed to live your life as you please at the end of the day- more so if you want to leave him

But why???

Why waste time like this? Why hurt him like this?

He dwells on this for a long time and it's going to take him a long time to feel ok again

It's best to cut it cold turkey then and leave him alone.

Warrior

What... what do you mean?

Weren't you doing ok?

He thought you were both ok.

You came to him, telling him that his job took too much time from him.

Warrior gets whip lash.

He knew it was demanding but he was trying his best to spend as much with you as possible.

If he wasn't working he was with you

You had talked about cutting back to save more so he could retire earlier.

This job was a temporary circumstance

He was almost there

Warrior would try to get you to talk about it but if you weren't having it... what could he do?

He doesn't want this.

It took him so much to open up to anyone

He thought you were different. You didn't go after him for his title or power or connections.

He just didn't think those would be the things that would be your breaking point.

Warrior thought that it was that you liked him for him.

Now you're telling him he wasn't good enough?

He begs, no, pleads you to reconsider.

He doesn't want to lose you.

He starts getting insecure and begins to question everything.

When did this start? Was it something he did? Was it something he didn't do? Why didn't you talk to him? Did you even truly love him? Why didn't you want to make it work?

He could have met you halfway.

Is there someone else?

That's a question that cuts him to his core.

If you truly decide to leave him and go on your merry way, Warrior throws himself further into his work.

His retirement plans were for your benefit. He's still young. He doesn't have family. He has no one depending or expecting anything from him.

He has no other home to return to.

Warrior will stay in the Queen's court then.

He will also stay out of relationships from that point on.

If another comes along then it will take a lot of persistence on their part to get through to him.

Four

His entire body freezes up

But he thought-

He could have sworn-

Sure, your relationship wasn't perfect but he was happy with it.

He was doing everything he could to make things work.

He thought that it was working.

What do you mean you want other things?

What do you mean this wasn't what you thought you wanted?

Why are you doing this?

Why bring this up?

No.

No. He doesn't want this.

Where did you think you could go with this?

Give him a reason.

Give him a single solid reason for this divorce.

He doesn't want to lose you-

But really... even if he doesn't agree with your reason, is that all the more reason to let you go?

Were you just looking for a reason to leave this entire time?

Do you think you could just cut him off? Just like that? After thing you went through together?

Have you been talking to someone and he didn't know it?

He gets angry.

He's heartbroken.

Was this an easy decision to come to? How long have you been thinking about this?

He goes to work, throwing all his frustrations onto the anvil.

Four wears himself out quickly.

After weeks of letting the process go through he finally comes home to an empty house.

He looks around his house for the first time since you mentioned it.

All of your stuff is gone.

He sits by the couch- feeling too tired to process any emotion he may be feeling.

Until he cries himself to sleep.

Sky

His reality crashes, much like the plate he was in the middle of washing.

He's sorry...but what?

Maybe he misheard you... somehow

"What did you say?"

You repeat yourself and say that you're going to leave him.

"....Ok but.... why?"

His brain shuts up and he's no longer thinking.

Goes along with it

Because what else he supposed to do.

Is this even something he can fight? Should he fight?

You brought it up. Is this something you want? Probably.

He loves you. He wants you to be happy. Would this make you happy?

He promised to do everything in his power to make you happy. He promised to support you through thick and thin, even at the cost of his own happiness.

He vowed that on your wedding day.

Sky tries to get your side of the story.

He tries to see what he did wrong.

If there was something you wanted out of him that he wasn't giving you, then he wants to know.

If there was something that he did too much of, he wants to know.

If there was a moment where you realized he was different than what you thought he was, well... he wants to know that too.

He cries every night.

You moved out early, not wanting to see him at his lowest so you could go through with the decision.

It's not that you hated him... but you weren't going to change your mind about this.

He knows that he was supposed to help with the surface settlement stay sturdy and strong, but he really just wants to be with his loft wing right now.

But what if you also went back to Skyloft?

Sky isn't sure he can handle seeing you again without breaking down into bitter sobs.

Even if you decided to stay on the surface, even if it was to get away from him, he not so sure he would be able to handle that either.

Granted, the surface is much larger than Skyloft would have ever hoped to be- but he would much rather you choose the direction and he'll go the opposite way.

News travels fast about your divorce.

There's only so many people for it to go to and everyone knows everyone any way.

Sky isn't so sure that he likes that about his people anymore.

Twilight

Sits you down and wants you to write it down

He wants you to write everything wrong with him and what was wrong with the relationship

He wants you to add as many details as you can think of

Twilight then proceeds to read the entire list out loud.

To your face.

Do the reasons make sense?

Do you stand by what you said?

Is it things that you're willing to work on to make it work?

No?

You're not going to let him make the necessary changes to even try?

He takes a deep breath but lets you go.

Fine. Leave then.

He already has some abandonment problems but he likes to think he's grown over them at this point.

Not that he has- but he handles it better than most would think.

He cries for months because he misses you but he's never been one to stay in one place or remain idle for very long anyway.

There's always something to do around the farm and the village.

And to be honest, the fact that he stays busy makes it easier to dull the pain little by little everyday.

Arguably takes the less time to heal since he actually has a support system near him.

His village family help him a lot and also help him to stay busy and distracted.

They don't want to give him a moment where he has the opportunity to miss you.

Not to say that it's a perfect system, but they want Twilight to know that they're always by his side even if things didn't work out in the end.

That being said. They no longer like you.

They'll be civil to your face and when Twilight is around but you hurt Twilight and hurt him deeply. They won't forgive that easily.

Twilight knows this but he's not about to tell them to leave you alone in that regard.

It really... really hurt and he's not exactly interested in keeping any kind of relationship in the beginning.

He'll never speak bad about you but he can never look at you the same way again after this.

Never stops caring about you though.

Twilight can't even bring himself to be mad about it.

It just hurts.

Still lives on peacefully though, just without by his side.

Wind (aged up)

Guess who's going straight into the ocean!!

Well- he sorta does.

He doesn't walk straight into it, but like a lot of other Links he's going to do his best to distract himself.

Not that it works all that much.

He leaves his cabana and gets back in his boat, just ready to spend who knows how much time along at sea.

It's worrying to the islanders.

He just left and hasn't come back yet!! Did something happen to him?

Wind is trying his hardest to find comfort in the familiar

But the lack of your presence is really highlighted with his time at sea.

There's just energy inside of him that urges him to do something reckless- to live recklessly.

But he's not a child anymore- and well... actually...

Who's going to miss him?

Aryll for sure, but she's a big girl now. He knows she can watch after herself.

There's Tetra and her crew but he hasn't seen them in a while and contact was few and far in-between to begin with.

The time at sea has him thinking dangerous thoughts.

And he fantasizes about worlds perhaps he shouldn't venture to.

If When he comes home- he actually goes back to Outset- not his cabana.

At first it was to see how everyone was doing after his time away.

He wanted closure- to see everyone for potentially the last time and leave things on a nice note.

He's finds the familiar he's looking for.

He's strengthen by his nostalgia and the love that was stripped away from him.

Wind stays there for months, building himself back together without you by his side.

It's not easy.

His sister and her family are a life line he didn't know he needed.

He tries not to feel jealous though.

He quite meet the pirates yet or they'll tempt him to join them back at sea...

Back to the thoughts and the blank pages...

The drinks.

Wind writes to them though and tells them to save his spot for the time being.

When he feels better.

Legend

HO BOY HERE WE GO

This guy- destroyed

I'm talking gives up on life kind of deal

He no longer cares

Do you hear me?

Warrior and Hyrule react badly but this guy is right on their heels

Someone is going to have to check in on his constantly

And I mean constantly

If someone doesn't, he's not going to get up from bed.

Meaning- he won't clean, he won't eat, he won't drink water

He's done- he is done with life.

The one time he had happiness- and stability- and genuine care from another person turned out to be a total lie.

Did you do this on purpose?

This is worse.

He hopes he's dreaming. He hopes that every time he goes to sleep, he's going to wake up and it would have all been just one messed up, scary and heart wrenching nightmare.

But he's tired.

He's tired of losing people.

He's tired of fighting, of heartache, of needing to prove himself

He thought he didn't have to do any of that with you- but he still fell short?

Tell him you're playing from messed up prank on him.

Tell him you're not going to do it.

Tell him it's not real.

Tell him he's dreaming.

Please.

Don't-...

Don't go.

He's sorry.

He's not sure what went wrong but he can fix it! He swears it.

Legend may not survive otherwise.

Time

Record scratch TM

Is this it then?

....Every meeting does have its parting after all.

Just... Just why?

You both promised until death do you part.

Time does not take his promises lightly. And he does not make them often.

Time feels long forgotten bitterness bubble up from inside him.

Alright- go then.

Don't come back.

He leaves before you can begin to move out despite what he told you.

He's never needed much. He's fine and content with a satchel and the clothes on his back.

That's what he tells himself anyway.

His inner child wishes to return to the forest but he knows that he's grown too large and too old- the magic would never allow him to enter into the comforts of his once peaceful childhood.

He can no longer make Epona run as she used to. She is an old mare now- but she's still his loyal companion, taking him far from the home you both once shared.

Granted, he plans to return... at some point.

He'll give you a week or two to leave before he returns.

He hopes you've taken everything you've needed because he packs up the things he plans on keeping before getting rid of everything.

And I mean- everything.

You wanted to part ways? Fine.

He'll burn that bridge.

Forget it.

Forget everything!

He'll start over. With less, but with himself and his horse and the little things that he needs.

It's not like his life had known peace to begin with- this is just one more disappointment to add to his list of life's backstabbing betrayals.

Forget romance- he never should have tried.

He never should have let you in.

This is his own doing- he fooled himself into thinking things were ok.

That this was something he could have.

A little voice tells him that Twilight still needs to come from somewhere...

But there are ways to pass on his legacy... or maybe he was wrong?

Wild

Oh dear

He thought he knew what it was to have loved and lost

This is different

This is completely than what he thought he knew

This... is worse.

You're leaving him

Because.... because why?

Everything was fine.

He.... he was good in the end, right? He did his job and saved the day and wanted to live a peaceful life

But he's not losing you to some accident or some unforeseen circumstance.

If anything, you're leaving him... out of a want.... to have nothing to do with him anymore.

Was he not enough?

Insecurity rears its ugly head and faces him head on.

He wasn't enough to take down the calamity when he should have, he wasn't enough to save his friends when he should have, he wasn't enough to get the master sword when he should have-

Are you just another person he's disappointed in his life?

Wild takes a while to come to terms with this.

A long while.

Long enough where you might have moved on by then and found someone else.

Surely it's nothing personal, right?

Oh goodness- when you find someone new- yikes

Someone ought to make sure that Wild gets out into the sunlight every now and then and that he's actually eating something as well

He completely shuts down.

He stays in his house- not willing to go on any adventures... or go anywhere in general

It would take a while for people (other than Zelda, I think) to even notice that he's suddenly a shut in.

Considering he was hardly home to begin with- going from place, to place, to place- and then moving between places so he wouldn't be in one place for very long- it would take a while for Sidon, Yunobo, Riju, Teba, Purah, Paya, Robbie- anyone to figure out that "hey, Link hasn't been here a while."

Zelda would have to be the one to either help Wild or get reinforcements so that Wild would stay active.

It would be completely up to Reader if they try to help him or not.

They would probably have the best success in getting Wild to take care of himself- but it could also very well make it worse when they leave again.

It's almost like they've died.

Except they're very much alive and Wild's not so sure what would have been worse.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #tw self destructive behavior #tw self harm #mentioned #adding tags for safety just in case #Queen's 'Love of my Life' came up while i was writing for Hyrule #and it was a little too fitting ^.^*#*Bring it back- bring it back- don't take it away from me #sorry buddy #not achy breaky heart playing in the background too!!!!!!

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kristenwell · 1 year ago

Text

(Not) Jealous - Leo Valdez x Reader

(Okay so I've had this idea for a while and I thought it was cute but it's my first fanfic so it's probably cringe 💀 Also : g/p = godly parent)

Leo glared and huffed in annoyance. He was sitting on a bench near the docks, observing a certain person.

This particular habit of his s/o was starting to get on his nerves.

It’s been a few days since they found a stray cat near the camp and since they’ve started to neglect him.

The demigod in question kept on cuddling the small calico in content. Few kisses on its little head here and there along with careful hugs.

The son of Hephaestus had hard time admitting to his jealousy.

„You’re gonna burn a hole in their head if you keep staring like that.“ The voice next to him spoke, slightly amused by his behavior.

„Maybe it’ll finally take their attention away from that stupid cat.“ Leo grumbled. He didn’t even need to look at the person speaking to know it’s Jason, and he knew he came to tease him.

The blond boy chuckled. He sat on the bench next to his curly haired friend as he kept his eyes on y/n.

„Maybe you should join them,“ Jason suggested: „and show that you’re interested instead of sulking here like a little kid.“

Leo huffed and ran his hand through his dark curls. The gentle wind doing little to no help with cooling down his red face.

„You don’t get it, they haven’t given me their full attention for like whole two days, how am I supposed to survive?“ He whined dramatically.

Jason’s eye caught a figure approaching the two boys.

„Here they come. Good luck, dude.“ The taller male gave Leo a reassuring pat on his shoulder before scurrying Zeus knows where.

The sight of wind blowing in their hair, sun kissing their skin as they walked in his direction made his heart pound loudly against his chest. Leo could feel himself melting, he was whipped.

„Hey, fire boy.“ Badump. Normally if anyone else were to call him that he’d hate it. But Y/N was an exception.

The child of g/p sat in Jason’s previous spot next to Leo. They still held the tri-color cat in their arms.

Before the shorter male should utter a word his s/o beat him to it.

„So what’s got you so down? Usually you’d be all over me in a second.“ That sentence alone made Leo straighten his back and snap his head in their direction.

„Why don’t you ask that stupid animal since you’ve been spending SO much time together.“ Irritation was evident in his voice as he kicked the poor ground.

„Cookie is not stupid, she is one of the smartest cats I’ve seen. Aren’t you, sweetie?“ They cooed at at the tiny creature in their arms before the realization hit. „Love, don’t tell me that THE Super Sized Mcshizzle is jealous.“ A smirk made its way on their face.

A red hue spread across the male’s face as he looked away.

„Of course not, look who you’re talking to. I’m the bad boy supreme, “ He stammered.“I’m just suggesting that you should spend more time with your boyfriend than that stray that probably has fleas.“

Y/N covered the Cookie’s ears and started at their lover in disbelief.

„Don’t treat her like some sort of animal.“ The look that he shot them spoke for itself.

A short silence left them both looking into each other’s eyes. Y/N was the first one to break it.

„I’m sorry if it seemed like ignored you, it wasn’t my intention.“ They gently took his hand into theirs as they looked for a sign of uncomfortableness in his face.

„I’m sorry too, for lashing out at you. It wasn’t cool of me.“

His s/o shook their head and slid closer to him. „So, we’re good?“

„Yep, we’re good.“ He smiled and kissed them gently on their lips.

„Since we’ve established things I need to do one last thing,“ Y/N grinned and quickly placed the relaxed cat in their boyfriend’s arms. „hold her for a while.“

Leo sent a puzzled look his lover’s way as they pulled out a camera and aimed it at him.

„What? She needs a father as well.“ They giggled and snapped a few photos.

„Gotta have something for the family album.“

#heroes of olympus #leo valdez x reader #pjo #leo valdez #hoo x reader

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stardewstardropthoughts · 2 years ago

Note

which bachelors do you think would be the most meanest hard dom to the softest pleasure dom ?

Start my return off with some spice lol

Content warnings: gn!reader, mentions of bondage, mentions of breeding, mentions of medical play in Harvey’s, smut below the cut babes and as per usual MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT I DONT WANNA BE THE ONE TO RUIN YOUR BRAINS

Meanest to softest doms bachelors

Shane:

By far the meanest hard dom

But he’s so good at it

Also has some bomb after care

Owns so many toys for both his and his partners pleasure

Or torture depending on the night and the scene

Loves ruining your makeup if you wear any

Leaves so many marks, hickeys, whip lashes, finger print bruises

Also the most likely to be into letting other people fuck you while he watches and directs or participates

Sebastian:

He’s a firm but gentle pleasure dom

He’s still big into marking

Likes to throw a bit of pain into the mix on occasion

I also see him being into knife play

But like, practice knifes because he doesn’t want to accidentally cut you to deeply

I could also see him having other people fuck you but like people he trusts so Sam or Abigale

Loves to have you in collars and binds

Big on overstimulation

Sam:

When he’s domming he’s pretty sweet but still definitely a bit rough around the edges with it

He likes to be a little mean but he doesn’t wanna have you crying from pain

Probably into electro stimulation to be honest

Loves to use vibes and dildos on you while he fucks you so he can see how much you can cum

Or he’ll tell you your not aloud to cum until he says so just so he can watch you struggle

Harvey:

He enjoys the times he’s in charge, he could definitely be a switch though in my opinion

But when he’s domming he’s a very soft dom, let’s you get away with a lot

Doesn’t know how to handle brats honestly

Isn’t huge on punishments but absolutely loves to overstimulate you

Loves watching you cry as you cum for the fifth time that night

Definitely owns a speculum for non medical uses

Elliott:

The softest pleasure dom to exist

Can not do punishments because he feels to guilty if he hurts you

Loves to have you at his mercy and absolutely loves making you cum any way he can

Loves blindfolds and ropes

Big into wax play, preferably with the candles that melt into body lotion so clean up is easy

Has 100% made love to you on the beach on a blanket under the stars

Alex:

My sweet sweet vanilla baby

I wouldn’t describe him as a dom or a sub honestly

He’s just here for you and to love you

Loves to feel of your skin under his hands when your having sex

Loves listening to your whines and moans

Dude has how you sound on repeat in his head all day

Does love the idea of breeding though

#stardew fanfic #stardew valley #stardew farmer #stardew x reader #stardew headcanon #stardew marriage #stardew shane #stardew elliott #stardew harvey #stardew sam #stardew sebastian #stardew alex #sdv smut #stardew smut

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ninjadeathblade · 10 months ago

Text

Shopping Trip (Lego Monkie Kid fanfic)

Summary: The majority of the gang goes shopping. Then Wukong and Macaque play video games.

Warnings: Brief threats, Wukong and Macaque have issues to work through (they're also very dumb about the fact they love each other), swearing

Word count: 6,072

Author's notes: This would NOT leave me alone so here fandom, take the gays residing in my brain for the last two days. Sandy isn't here because I had no idea what he'd be doing. This is 90% indulgent Shadowpeach content for myself but hey, that's something. This is set post Emperor's Wrath. Enjoy.

“Hey, Monkey King, why d'you always wear your fancy robes?” MK questioned after the three of them took a break from training.

Macaque stifled a laugh, looking over at Wukong and revelling in the confusion on his face.

“What do you mean?” Wukong asked around a mouthful of peach flavoured crisps, crunching noisily on them.

MK shrugged and gestured. “You and Macaque always wear your fancy clothes whenever you come and just hang out with us, you can't be comfortable in it.”

“Look, kid, I hate to break it to you but we don't actually own any other clothes,” Macaque replied.

“I can make some though!” Wukong exclaimed, one hand already reaching to yank hair out of his head.

MK and Macaque rushed to stop him, the former tackling his hand still holding the bag of crisps, while the latter reached through a shadow portal to grab his wrist.

“Quit it Wukong, you already eat enough of your hair as it is, no point in you wearing it as well,” Macaque said with an eye roll.

MK’s eyes went round as saucers. “Please tell me that those crisps aren't hair.”

Wukong averted his gaze with a nervous laugh. “Whaaaaat? No, pfft, I'm not that- er-”

“Monkey King! You promised to start eating proper food!” MK whined, poking him in the cheek.

Wukong sighed. “Yeah yeah, I am, kid, I promise, now can I have my arms back?”

Macaque glared at him over MK's head, getting a returning glare.

MK gasped and jumped up, waving his arms wildly. “Oh my gosh, I know just what we should do?”

“Yuh-huh and what's that?” Wukong asked.

“Mei keeps telling me about this super cool new shopping centre that opened up the other week!” MK explained. “What if we all had a day out there and you guys can pick out some comfy clothes for hanging out with us?!”

Macaque shook his head. “Look, kid, I appreciate it but-”

He went silent as something yanked his tail, head whipping around to catch another tail quickly retreating to Wukong's side.

Oh that little-

“It's an amazing idea!” Wukong replied with a grin. “Let us know when you want to do it and we'll be there.”

“Funny how you now speak for both of us,” Macaque muttered, opening up a shadow portal beside him and reaching through to yank Wukong's tail.

The king turned to glare at the warrior, Macaque shooting him a shit-eating grin in return.

“Okay! I'm gonna go, I'm working this evening but I'll see you guys for training again tomorrow!” MK said before beginning to run back down the mountain. “Thanks again for the training!”

A beat went by before the two of them turned to each other.

“You know you could be more supportive of the kid,” Wukong snapped.

“Me? Really? Last I checked you were the one who abandoned his training!” Macaque argued, standing up. “Because that's what you always do isn't it? The great Sun-Wukong who always puts himself first.”

Wukong's jaw clenched, tail lashing behind him, and for a moment it seemed like they were going to fight again.

Then the king's shoulders heaved and his posture slouched. “Can we not do this right now?”

Macaque rolled his shoulders, the joints clicking slightly. “Running off again?”

“Can you stop?!” Wukong shouted. “I don't know what you want from me but you're not gonna get a rise. I'm done with this - with you always trying to bait me into another fight. I have people to look out for now.”

Macaque scoffed. “You can't tell me you actually care about the kid.”

“Bold words from someone who also cares about him,” Wukong retorted and Macaque's fur bristled. “Oh yeah, don't think I haven't noticed. While I was off doing very important things, you kept showing back up. Some part of you does actually care about MK, be honest.”

“Nope, doesn't sound like me,” Macaque stated, tail tapping against the ground twice as he opened up a shadow portal. “See you around, Monkey King.”

Wukong dashed forward, one arm outstretched. “No, wait, Macaque-”

The darkness surrounding him.

Silence.

Well, it wasn't quite silent, it sounded like everything was muffled and underwater.

Macaque took a deep breath, artificial air expanding his lungs.

Wukong was still there although it was like seeing him through murky glass, thumping a fist against the shadows on the ground before giving up and walking away.

Macaque floated in the inky expanse, debating on whether or not to return to his dojo before deciding that he would just stay here for now.

It was peaceful.

It was everything that outside wasn't.

~•~

“Hey boi!” Mei cheered, tackling MK into a hug before waving at Wukong. “Heya Monkey King!”

“Hey,” Wukong waved, pulling his loaned hoodie further over his head. “Hey bud, you sure that no one's gonna recognise me in this?”

“I dunno honestly but if not you can transform, right?” MK argued.

“Fair point.”

“I still do not understand why I have to be here,” Red Son complained, foot tapping impatiently. “If we are all here then can we go already?”

“No, sorry, we're still waiting on someone else,” Tang answered.

“Who else are we waiting for?” Wukong questioned. “The pig guy?”

Tang adjusted his scarf. “Oh no, Pigsy is at that food stall over there shouting at the chef because he sold us half baked churros while we were waiting.” He paused. “Speaking of, I'm going to go stop Pigsy before he ends up in too much trouble.”

“Literally who else would MK invite?” Wukong's eyes narrowed in confusion. “I don't even understand why Red Son is here.”

“Hey!”

“I swear if you invited Nezha then this is going to be the most boring shopping trip ever.”

“Ugh, I wish he'd invited Nezha, then I'd have someone else to make fun of you with.”

Wukong spun around with a curse, glaring at their final arrival, who hadn't even bothered with a disguise.

“Great, just great.”

Macaque shrugged. “Hey, I don't want to be here any more than you want me to be here. Only reason I'm tagging along is that I was planning to grab some food anyway.”

“But we're meant to be clothes shopping,” Mei interrupted, eyes watery as she stared up at the warrior.

“Yeah Macaque, you promised,” MK added, also staring up with large eyes.

“Look kid I didn't-” The warrior paused and sighed. “Fine, I'll buy some clothes. But I'm picking what I get, not you guys.”

The two of them let out a cheer and rushed back over to Red Son, beginning to drag him in the direction of a shop.

“I cannot believe that I'm gonna have to put up with you today,” Wukong groaned as the two of them set off after the trio.

“Hey, you're the one who volunteered me for this so if there's anyone to blame it's yourself,” Macaque responded.

Mei and MK had seemed to immediately start piling clothes into their arms, occasionally thrusting some pieces into Red Son's arms.

Wukong stumbled backwards slightly when MK seemed to just appear in front of him, holding up two pairs of pyjamas. “Hey Monkey King! Should we get these matching Monkey King™ pyjamas?”

“Hey kiddo, I'm wearing a disguise for a reason so maybe keep your voice down,” Wukong chuckled. “But yeah, absolutely.”

The king turned to glare at Macaque when the warrior snickered.

“Something funny?”

“No, it's nothing,” Macaque lied, one hand coming up to try and cover the smile on his face.

Wukong let out a loud, over-dramatic gasp. “Are you making fun of my bond with my apprentice? Are you making fun of our super duper cool friendship?”

“No,” Macaque sputtered, trying to get his laughter under control.

Wukong leaned in, poking him in the face. “You are! How could you?”

Macaque stopped trying to contain his laughter at the theatrics, golden eyes screwing up tight as he nearly doubled over.

Wukong's smile wavered as his gaze flitted across the warrior's face.

He knew realistically why Macaque would cover up his eye.

Seeing his unmarred face and having these moments made it almost seem like nothing had ever gone wrong between them.

When Macaque straightened up again he shot Wukong a quick glance, accompanied with a shy smile before returning his attention to the shop in front of them. “C'mon then, no point standing around all day. Gotta find you something to wear other than pyjamas.”

“Yeah and we've gotta find you anything to wear,” Wukong teased. “What do you even wear? Like, leather jacket and grunge aesthetic boots.”

“How the fuck do you know what an aesthetic is?” Macaque swore, turning back to face him.

The king shrugged nonchalantly and grinned. “What can I say, I guess I'm just cool like the kids are.”

The warrior snorted. “Yeah right, the day that you're cool is the day I haven't died before.”

A silence fell between them at that comment and something flickered over Macaque's features.

Wukong reached out to him before the shadow slipped away from him, walking over to a rack of darkly coloured clothes.

There was so much they still needed to talk about.

Macaque flicked through the different hanging articles before smirking. “So, what about the fact that Red Son has a crush on either MK or Mei?”

“Wait, what?” Wukong spluttered.

“When the three of them were together back there, Red Son was blushing and stuff. Can't tell which of them is making him fall for them but I'm not actually that surprised.”

Wukong stood stock still for a moment, doing a mental reboot while Macaque moved on.

“Wait, no, hold on you little shit, are you for real?” Wukong questioned.

Macaque nodded. “When we catch up to them, just watch. I wouldn't lie, would I?”

“I dunno, seems like you lie a lot.” Wukong narrowed his eyes dubiously.

“Well, I'm not lying about that.”

They wandered for a little longer before managing to catch up with the trio.

Okay, Wukong had to hand it to Macaque, Red Son did seem to be blushing.

“Hey, Monkey King, you made it! We lost you back there!” MK cheered before turning back to Mei. “Ooh, Mei, do you still have the thing we picked out for Macaque?”

“Kid I don't-”

“Found it!” Mei announced, holding up the black mesh shirt.

Macaque's gaze dragged over it before extending a hand. “Okay, I'll try it on.”

Wukong did a double take. “You like mesh?”

“Haven't tried it before but it looks cool enough. If I can get something to go over it then I'd probably like it.”

Red Son held up a black sleeveless turtleneck shirt from the pile in his arms. “Something like this?”

Macaque shifted the first shirt in his grip before reaching out for the other. “Sounds good.”

“Oh and there are some dark coloured jeans by the changing rooms, wanna grab a pair of those?” MK offered.

“Mhm.”

Wukong trailed behind the bunch of them, briefly wondering where Tang and Pigsy had gotten to.

Him and MK plopped down onto a bench just outside the changing rooms, MK's stack of clothes beside him.

“I'm gonna try them on after the others have tried theirs,” MK explained. “Wait a minute, why don't you have anything Monkey King?”

“Um, well, I just didn't see anything I liked all that much, bud,” Wukong lied.

“Oh okay.”

The boy got out his phone, playing some obnoxiously loud game while they waited for the others to get changed.

“Okay, we're done!” Mei called after a while.

“Come out then!” MK shouted back, shutting his phone off and putting it back in his pocket.

“Macaque, you coming?”

“Nope.”

“Aw, come on, pretty please? You look great!”

“...Fine.”

Mei stepped out, practically dragging Red Son and Macaque with her.

And wow, Macaque actually looked kind of good.

The clothes actually suited him.

The warrior wrenched Mei's iron grip off his arm before grumpily crossing his arms over his chest.

“Woah, you guys look awesome!” MK gasped, clapping his hands together.

Macaque rolled his eyes and frowned when he looked over at Wukong. “Quit staring, Wukong, don't you know it's impolite?”

Wukong smirked. “Thought you said I was impolite.”

“Yeah, I know that you are. Doesn't mean you have to give me more reasons for it,” the warrior complained before looking over at Mei. “Hey, can we wrap this up and buy this stuff already?”

“Nu-uh, we've still got loads of outfits to try on! You and Monkey King can wait here while we finish checking all these sick clothes out,” Mei replied.

Macaque grumbled something under his breath before going back to the changing room.

Three pairs of eyes turned to Wukong. “He's just always kinda cranky, trust me.”

“I heard that!”

~•~

“Ugh, how much sugar did you even put in that thing?” Macaque asked, nose wrinkling with disgust at the sweet scent coming off of Wukong's drink.

Wukong moved the glass away from his face, a bit of cream smeared on his nose. “Um, I dunno. It has chocolate, ice cream, sprinkles, some more chocolate, some normal cream, some kinda sweet milk, caramel-”

Macaque reached out and grabbed the drink out of his hand while he was distracted listing ingredients, holding it out of his reach. “You are going to clog an artery if you have that much sugar.”

Wukong pouted. “Macaque! Gimme back my drink!”

Macaque opened up a shadow portal under his hand, hovering the drink just above it. “You aren't going to have all of it to yourself or you will die.”

“I'm immortal, I can't die,” Wukong retorted.

Oh yeah.

“You aren't going to have it all to yourself or I'll steal all the wine you're hiding at your place.”

Wukong's eyes went wide and he leaned across Macaque, desperately attempting to grab it. “No! No! Fine, I'll share! Just gimme the drink!”

Macaque dropped the drink through the shadow portal, watching as Wukong's face fell.

As the king turned back to the table the warrior opened a portal again, depositing the drink - now with two straws - back in front of him.

“Come on, if you're going to clog an artery then I might as well do it with you.”

Wukong shot him a quick glare but moved the glass so it was between them.

Red Son slid back into their booth. “They're still ordering but wanted me to say they'll be back soon.”

Macaque glanced over to the counter where Mei and MK seemed to be arguing over the menu of sweet treats.

“May I ask a question?” Red Son asked.

“You just did,” Wukong teased.

The boy rolled his eyes. “May I ask another question after the one I am asking at this moment?”

“Mmmmkay.”

Macaque lowered his head to take a sip of the drink, throat burning at how sickly sweet it was.

He'd never understand how Wukong could stomach these things.

“Are you two in a relationship?”

Macaque choked on his drink and Wukong hit him on the back a few times while replying.

“No, never! Me? With him? Tch, as if! He's so- him! And I'm so me!” The king answered.

Macaque gulped in a lungful of air after recovering. “This is the one time we agree on something and it's that we are not a thing. I hate him, he makes me feel like my skin is on the outside and my fur is on the inside. I'd rather have my heart served up on a platter to the Lady Bone Demon than go out with him.”

“Ew, did you have to be so graphic?” Wukong complained. “You're gonna put me off my drink.”

“Good. It tastes like shit.”

“Because you have no tastes.”

“I do have tastes. Anyway, you seemed to conveniently leave out the fact that this drink is peach flavoured.”

Wukong shrugged and smiled. “It's my favourite.”

“You sure you didn't make this out of your hair?” Macaque questioned, lip curling in disgust.

Red Son huffed. “No, I paid for his drink. And there's no need for you two to be so defensive.”

“We're back!” MK announced, flopping down against Red Son's side. “What did we miss?”

“Ah, yes, you are back,” Red Son flustered.

Macaque and Wukong shared a look.

So that's who Red Son liked then.

“Duh, that's what I just said,” MK laughed.

“We ordered every dessert they had!” Mei announced.

“Oh no,” Macaque whispered.

“Oh yes,” Wukong purred, eyes lighting up. “Desserts for everyone!”

The warrior dropped his head to rest against the table, grimacing at how sticky it seemed to be. “Why did I ever let myself be dragged along here?”

“Because you're our friend!” MK said.

“Greeaaaat.”

~•~

“Omg, these stationary sets are so naturecore, I have to have them for my aesthetics blog,” Mei gasped.

Wukong nudged Macaque to grab his attention before whispering. “Hey, d'you have any idea what that means?”

“No idea,” Macaque admitted. “As established earlier, I know aesthetic but that's about it.” The warrior smirked. “Aren't you the one who's ‘cool like the kids are’?”

“Shuddup,” Wukong laughed.

Macaque's tail flicked up to hit him in the back of the head before looking around. “So, we kinda lost Pigsy and Tang at the start.”

“Yeah, it'll be fine,” the king replied calmly, waving it off.

“Maybe for you. I for one would like to not be on kid sitting duty for the next decade.”

“It's only been two hours,” Wukong stated, snickering at the defeated groan Macaque let out. “What's wrong? Too old to keep up?”

“Wha- no,” Macaque denied sourly before continuing. “My feet hurt though. I'm not used to walking around this much. Usually I just use my shadows to get places.”

Wukong sighed before holding out his arms.

The warrior stared blankly at him.

“Climb on, I'll carry you,” the king offered.

Macaque immediately began to walk away from him. “Nope, nu-uh, never happening, find someone else prince fucking charming.”

“Come on Macaque, your pride won't be that wounded if you let yourself take a break,” Wukong whined, following him.

The shadow’s tail lashed behind him as he walked through the aisles of the shop, trying to catch up to wherever the other three had run off to. “I'll take a break when I get home later. Feet being sore isn't the worst thing I've had to deal with.”

Unspoken words hung between them and Wukong followed Macaque silently until they reached the trio, staring at row upon row of cards.

“Hey guys, whatcha looking at?” Wukong inquired, propping his head on MK's shoulder.

“We're helping Mei pick out a card for her dad's birthday,” MK explained.

“You could make one,” Red Son added. “Although didn't you say it's tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Mei groaned. “I was so busy helping MK train that I forgot.”

“You forgor,” MK said.

“I forgor,” Mei affirmed.

Wukong straightened back up, whispering. “What language is this?”

“No idea,” Macaque said.

“No idea what?” Mei asked.

“Nothing.”

“‘kay.”

Wukong smiled at Macaque.

The shadow returned it with a small quirk of his mouth.

It wasn't much but it was better than it had been.

~•~

“That's it, I am not being dragged into a spa, I'm calling Pigsy,” Macaque said, digging his phone out his pocket.

“You have Pigsy's number?” Wukong asked beside him before continuing. “You have a phone?”

“Yeah, and?” Macaque tapped onto his contacts. “Got Pigsy's number after the kid crashed out at my place one time. Also he makes good noodles.”

“I know right?” Wukong agreed, mouth practically watering.

“Hello! Pigsy's Noodles, how can I-”

“Cut the crap Pigsy, your kids are trying to drag me into a spa and I know that you and Tang are still somewhere in this shopping centre.”

“Oh fuc- okay, where are you guys, I'll come and get ‘em,” Pigsy sighed.

“Seventh floor, top right corner, next to the arcade place.”

“Wait, there's an arcade place next door and they chose to go to the spa instead?” Tang questioned.

“Red Son is trying to convince us all to get princess pamper sessions before we get wrecked and lose all our money to useless games,” Macaque explained.

“That'd do it. We'll be there in a few.”

Macaque hung up, quirking an eyebrow at Wukong's sad expression. “What do you want now?”

“You're gonna ruin their fun,” Wukong complained, gesturing at where the three others were currently crashed out on a bench.

“No, I'm just getting us the rest of the evening off,” Macaque argued.

When Wukong still looked upset he sighed.

“If I play your shitty game this evening will that make it up to you?”

Wukong brightened up. “Yes! Although it isn't shitty, take that back.”

“Maybe. Depends on how good your game is.”

Macaque looked over at the trio. “Hey, Red Son, a word.”

The boy seemed sheepish as he walked over, a sharp contrast to his usual confident demeanour. “Yes?”

“You break MK’s heart and I'll break all your bones,” Macaque snarled quietly.

“Okay so you're just coming out with it,” Wukong muttered.

“P-pardon?” Red Son stuttered, hair letting off embers.

“You aren't subtle. So you heard me. If you break his heart, I will break all your bones.”

Red Son swallowed thickly. “Y-yes sir.”

“Good.”

MK walked up beside them. “What're you guys talking about?”

“We were just saying goodbye,” Wukong supplied, somehow having come up with a good excuse for once in his long life.

“Oh cool. I'm sleeping around Red Son's tonight so won't be able to make it to training tomorrow, is that okay?” MK said.

Macaque subtly shot Red Son a glare while he replied to MK. “That's fine, see you in a few days kid.”

The warrior opened up a shadow underneath himself and the king.

“No, no, no, no, no, not the shadow portal!”

~•~

“Ugh, I think I'm gonna throw up,” Wukong complained as he dropped out of the shadow portal.

“Too bad, you fly your cloud recklessly and the shadows are quicker,” Macaque replied, dropping down beside him before opening up their shared bag of shopping purchases and grabbing out a handful of clothes. “I'm gonna get changed then I'm ordering actual food for dinner.”

“But my way is cheaper!”

“Yeah, and it'll have you hacking up furballs until your eventual death, Wukong,” Macaque snorted, shutting himself into the bathroom.

Wukong rooted around in the bag and grabbed out one of the plain shirts he'd picked out, slipping off his robes and putting on the black t-shirt before grabbing a pair of loose blue jeans out of the bag.

The king settled down on the sofa, aimlessly flicking through channels on his TV until his tail brushed against someone else.

Wukong lifted his head up, staring at Macaque.

The warrior practically had a halo of light around his head from the setting sun behind him, a sliver of yellow fabric visible under his dark hoodie.

“Hey. You up for burning off some energy?” Macaque proposed and Wukong was in his feet within seconds.

“We haven't fought in ages,” Wukong sceptically tested.

Macaque shrugged. “Nothing serious. But I need to stretch out my limbs and test how flexible I am in these clothes.”

Wukong dragged his eyes up and down Macaque. “Mhm, because ripped jeans are gonna be sooo easy to move around in. Prepare to be beat.”

Macaque smirked, sweeping out one leg and knocking Wukong off balance.

“H-hey! No fair!” Wukong growled, reaching up and tugging Macaque down with the edge of his hoodie.

The warrior let out a squeak, collapsing down beside the king before going still.

“Oh shit. Macaque? You good, bud?” Wukong questioned, moving closer.

Macaque spun around, hands catching Wukong's and pinning them against the floor. “I cannot believe you just fell for that.”

“Yeah, well, it's been years since you played that card while we've fought,” Wukong argued, one leg kicking out and into Macaque's stomach.

The warrior's grip on his hands loosened, allowing the king to flip the two of them over as he hovered over him.

His hands closed around Macaque's, mimicking the move just used on him.

“Not so cocky now, huh?” Wukong challenged.

Macaque just laughed and rolled his eyes, opening up a shadow portal underneath himself.

Wukong pulled back, watching as the other sank into the floor and disappeared before a weight crashed down on his back.

“Fuck! Macaque!”

“Got you now,” Macaque taunted, the two of them rolling back and forth until Macaque pinned Wukong down.

The warrior was just shy of sitting on him, chest heaving as he breathed.

Wukong sighed. “Yeah, alright Mac, you win, now get off of me.”

The shadow paused, golden eyes staring at him.

“What?” Wukong inquired.

“You haven't called me Mac since- since before,” Macaque stated, his grip on Wukong's hands loosening.

Orange and pink hues of light shone off of his dark fur.

It was beautiful.

He was beautiful.

“No, no I guess not,” Wukong murmured.

Macaque rolled onto the floor beside him, both of them staring up at the ceiling.

“So, if Red Son does break MK's heart we are absolutely going to ruin his life, right?” Macaque questioned.

Wukong rolled onto his side, staring at Macaque.

Tufts of dark hair stuck up in different directions, framing his face.

The king reached out with a hand before hesitating when the warrior flinched, eyes closing.

A long moment passed, before Macaque quickly got up, with a mumbled sentence. “I'm going to order dinner.”

“Yeah, okay,” Wukong responded, mentally kicking himself.

Of course Macaque still didn't trust him, why should he?

After everything Wukong had done, he had no reason to.

“Hey, Wukong, how many portions should I order you?” Macaque asked, one hand muffling the bottom of his phone.

“Three, if that's okay,” Wukong answered.

Macaque nodded before continuing to quietly speak to whoever was on the other end of the line.

Wukong walked back over to the sofa, sitting down and trying to avoid looking at his friend.

Huh.

When had he started thinking of Macaque as a friend again?

The other side of the sofa dipped as weight settled down on it.

“I'm sorry for flinching,” Macaque whispered. “Really going against my therapy goals.”

Wukong blinked before looking over at him. ��You go to therapy?”

Macaque's tail wrapped across his chest, curling over his opposite shoulder. “Well, I'm trying. Kind of hard though when most therapists are mortal and I have issues with opening up about things from my past.”

The shadow let out a deep breath before slowly relaxing against the king's side. “Is… is this okay?”

“Yeah, no, of course,” Wukong flustered a bit, shifting so that Macaque would be more comfortable.

Wukong turned so his back was resting against the arm of the sofa, one arm circling around Macaque's waist.

The warrior tensed under his touch slightly before relaxing back against him, pillowing his head on the king's chest. “You sure you're okay with this?”

“Geez Mac, I'm fine,” Wukong responded. “Are we gonna start playing my game now or d'you want to wait until after dinner?”

“After dinner. I want to get some rest in,” Macaque sighed, opening up a shadow portal over the top half of his head. “I'll wake up when the food gets delivered, I'll hear it. You should get some rest too.”

“Yeah alright. You get some rest.”

“Thanks Wukong.”

“No problem bud.”

~•~

Macaque's ear flicked inside the portal as footsteps ran up to the door of his dojo.

“Hold on,” he murmured to Wukong, unsure whether his friend was even awake before sitting up and slipping his upper body through the shadow portal.

“Knock knock!” The delivery boy shouted as Macaque reached over to open the door.

MK grinned and held up the couple of bags in his arms. “Hey Macaque! This is more than you usually order.”

“Yeah, well, I've got company,” Macaque said evasively.

“Is it Monkey King?”

“Nah, I have other friends,” Macaque lied, reaching out with one hand for the bags. “Aren’t you meant to be staying around Red Son's?”

“Yeah, I'm headed there after this,” MK explained.

“Have a good sleepover, kid.”

“You too Macaque!”

“No, kid, I'm not having a-”

“Bye Macaque!”

The shadow sighed, shutting and locking his door before slipping back through the portal to Wukong's house.

The king was still passed out on the sofa, snoring at an obnoxious volume.

Or perhaps it was actually quiet, and Macaque's sensitive hearing was getting to him more than usual.

“Hey, wake up.”

Wukong blinked awake, sitting up before his mouth watered at the sight of the takeaway bags. “Oh yes.”

Macaque rolled his eyes but passed over the three portions Wukong had asked for. “You know, if you keep eating that many portions then you're going to get fat.”

Wukong let out an offended gasp before shovelling some of the noodles into his open mouth. “No I'm not.”

“You are,” Macaque replied, teasingly poking him on the stomach. “See? Round.”

“It's cushioning. For when I may somehow end up on the floor,” Wukong explained.

“Because I beat you up,” Macaque snickered, opening up his own meal while Wukong began to dig into his second.

“Shuddup.”

“Make me,” Macaque challenged, tail lashing behind him.

Wukong's golden gaze flitted across him before he went back to his meal.

“That's what I thought.”

After they'd finished their meal, Macaque let out a sigh. “Alright then, put on your crappy game.”

“It's not crappy!” Wukong protested, already digging through the piles of DVDs in front of his TV. “Alright, found it. Get ready for the best game you'll ever play.”

“I highly doubt it,” Macaque mumbled, nearly dropping the headset and controller thrown haphazardly in his general direction.

“What was that?”

“I said ‘I highly doubt it’,” Macaque deadpanned. “This won't be anywhere near as good as my game.”

“You have a game?” Wukong laughed, plopping back down on the sofa beside him. “Okay, that I have to play after you're done with this.”

Macaque let out a grumble but adjusted the headset before putting it on, slouching against Wukong's side as the game registered him in.

An avatar looking surprisingly like him loaded in on a dirt path, a chicken running out of a bush in front of him before glitching and dying.

“Wow. What a surprise, I was right, this game sucks,” Macaque huffed.

The king's tail flicked up to curl around the warrior's arm. “Aww, c'mon Mac, give it a chance at least.”

Macaque sighed but began to walk his character along the path, stopped only a second later as another character spawned in front of him.

“Welcome traveller, on your journey to the west!” The Monkey King greeted.

The background image switched so the character was pointing at himself. “As the Great Sage equal to Heaven, you couldn't ask for a better tutor.” The screen switched back to the first picture of him. “On your journey, you will learn to smite powerful enemies.”

God this was boring.

“After you complete the tutorials, you will learn how to access your hidden potential.”

Ugh, good, back to the overworld.

Now if he could just-

“Defeat each opponent to work your way up to the final boss, the Rhino King,” Monkey King said.

“Couldn't afford the rights for Demon Bull King?” Macaque joked, elbowing Wukong in the side.

“Nah, just seemed boring seeing as I already beat him.”

“Here are seventy two combos-”

Skip.

“Pay attention-”

Skip.

“Make many friends along the way,” Monkey King advised and Macaque tore off his headset.

“What the fuck is that background art?!” The shadow screamed.

The king grinned. “Flattering, right? You would not believe how quickly the game sold out.”

“That's atrocious!” Macaque shouted, hitting him on the head before putting the headset back on.

Yeah, no, he was skipping through all of this.

Eventually it let him go and unlock abilities.

“Hey, these are all passive,” Macaque pointed out.

“Just give it a moment,” Wukong instructed.

The monk on the screen sighed before it flicked to a different ability menu.

Macaque's eyes roved over the screen before he took off the headset.

“Really?”

“What?”

“A fucking muscle bro version of yourself in just pants taking up half the screen?” Macaque growled because it was very obvious why he was pissed.

Wukong smirked. “What? I think it's a good view.”

“Self obsessed asshole,” Macaque grumbled, trying to just focus on buying a couple of different attacks before giving up and handing the game controller and headset over to Wukong. “No, I can't do this, this is just something for you to admire yourself.”

“Fiiiiine,” Wukong groaned. “But I want to play your game now.”

Macaque opened up a shadow portal, sticking his arm in and rooting around. “Seriously though Wukong, are you trying to seduce the player or something?”

Wukong grinned slyly at him. “Are you saying I'm hot?”

Macaque's face screwed up. “...No.”

“That's it, the Six-eared Macaque thinks I'm hot!” Wukong shouted before getting up and racing to the entrance of his house and cupping his hands around his mouth. “The Six-eared Macaque thinks that Sun-Wukong, Great Sage equal to Heaven, is hot!”

“Shut up,” Macaque said, withdrawing his hand and tossing the game case to Wukong as he walked back over.

“It looks like it was made by a five year old mortal,” Wukong giggled but put the disc in anyway.

When the king settled back down on the sofa, the warrior stretched out, laying his upper body across his friend's lap.

“And what do you think you're doing?” Wukong questioned before slipping the headset on.

“Making myself comfy.”

“Yeah yeah, I'm gonna beat this game in minutes.”

A moment passed as the game loaded.

“Why does everything look like a crappy anime?” Wukong inquired.

“Fuck you.”

~•~

“This is the fourth time I've done this encounter and I still haven't beaten it!” Wukong whined, throwing the controller across the room.

“Aww, too hard for you?” Macaque teased, not even cracking open an eye.

“Pfft, n-no!” Wukong floundered, taking off the headset and putting it on the floor. “I'm just going to take a break.”

“Sure you are,” Macaque snorted, opening his eyes a sliver.

Wukong stared, stock still, not sure if Macaque had realised that the glamour over his eye was down.

The scar over that side of his face was still hidden, but mismatching gold and milk coloured eyes fixed a tired gaze on him.

“Staring is rude,” Macaque murmured.

Wukong blinked, looking away. “Yeah, sorry.”

Macaque sat up, stretching with a yawn, hoodie riding up his sides slightly and exposing the yellow shirt he had on underneath.

It was surprisingly nice to see Macaque in bright colours.

Wukong reached out a hand to skim over the dark fur that stuck up on one side of his head, smiling softly when Macaque didn't flinch away.

“Hey, are your ears okay?” Wukong suddenly asked.

Macaque turned to face him, eyes back to their glamoured gold again. “Huh?”

“Well we were at a pretty busy place for most of today so I was wondering whether it was hard on your ears.”

Macaque seemed to blush. “Oh, no, they're all okay.”

The king's hand dropped to skim closer to where another two pairs of ears had to be hidden on the warrior. “Can I see them again?”

Macaque's eyes went wide and Wukong quickly withdrew his hand. “I'm sorry, you don't have to-”

The glamours dropped.

Wukong couldn't help but stare at the hues of colour on Macaque's ears, having nearly forgotten them over the centuries.

But there they were again, still with such resplendent glory.

Moonlight shone through the window, catching the back of Macaque's face with rays of light that made him shine.

“Rude to stare,” Macaque repeated, seeming to curl in on himself slightly.

“You're beautiful,” Wukong murmured, trying to ingrain this in his memory.

Maybe then he would have something to keep when they eventually fought again.

And just like that the glamours were back up, hiding Macaque's appearance behind a facade.

“I- I should go,” Macaque stammered, standing up and conjuring a portal in the floor.

“No, Mac, wait, I'm sorry-”

Too late.

His warrior was gone again, leaving him alone again.

Wukong sighed and dropped his head against the back of the sofa. “Idiot.”

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myobsessionsspace · 9 months ago

Note

Jeongguk is so fucking cute. He is so whipped for his Jiminie hyung, it's not even funny.

Maybe a bit funny with the batting his lashes thing. Also, I'm a bit sad we never got that live - there's a universe out there where Jimin took JK up on his offers. That would be the timeline to be.

Little timeline question: the live JK did where he changed his fit several times, and ended up looking like Prince Eric (but better), was that on White Day?

Hi Lovely!

He’s just the cutest isn’t he! sorry Jungkook Ssi.

We definitely have to keep manifesting 😭 if we trust anything we can trust Jungkook’s determination when it comes to all things Jimin.

I mean this guy wouldn’t even let a single Jimin’s content go unwatched and not just watch it in silence, Oh Nooooo Jeon Jungkook commented like he was checking off his checklist of Jimin content, PJM much Jungkookie??

Your Question: “The live JK did where he changed his fit several times, and ended up looking like Price Eric (but better), was that on White Day?”

Short answer: Yesssss

Everyone I present to you......Disney Princes Jeon!

Now ARMY, I will allow you to get a little bit excited because this White Day live was set up by jungkook, it seems in everyway, to be a date night live!

Even his hyungs who dropped by to chat on the live caught the vibes

So y/n a little bit...I SAID A LITTLE BIT!

Get excited but not tooooo excited because as we know where one is, usually there's the other

And even when he had to stop watching the live, Jimin was still on Jungkook's mind. I mean he literally flew to New York the day before! Was on an opposite time zone but still came to watch Kookie's live

No the fanboy in the article wasn't JK😂

It's understandable that Jimin couldn't stay for all 4 parts of the live and the outfit changes.

This guy! lol🤭

Jungkook wrapped up his live to keep us focused on the important things, JIMIN'S SOLO DEBUT.

Set Me Free Pt. 2 Teaser was released midnight their time Teaser & Full MV

HEAD JIMIN STAN doing his part with the views in another weverse live.

Sorry Anon, I got caught up and rambled for way too long about this live!🙈

There's so much more that could be covered about the lives and the significance to Jikook, I'll stop here because so many bloggers have done this before me, and done it well!

Some lovely and in depth write-ups include one from:

@kanmom51

and also this multi-parter from @jmdbjk

Thank you Anon for reminding me of the warm and happy feelings his lives brought me.

💜

Just gonna leave this right here

As ALWAYS, please, please, please, watch original content and don't rely solely on the words of others, but directly from the members:

Jungkook Lives from March 14th 2023:

Live One, Live Two, Live Three and Live Four

#Jikook #Anonymous Asks #Jungkook #Jimin #Weverse Live #White Day

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quinloki · 6 months ago

Text

Birthday Request Event v2024

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader Style: afab (they/them) Character: Blackbeard & Marco Vibe: NSFW noncon AU: Mythical Creatures Prompt: Bad End / Size Difference Gift Giver: @tenzeniths

Summary: A bad storm takes you outside the safety of your Phoenix's territory. He does not find you quickly.

Content Notes: non con, assault, oral received, forced orgasms, over stimulation, cream-pied, begging, painful sex, piss, mdni, 18+ , DEAD FUCKING DOVE - I think this is literally the darkest thing I've ever written.

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

THIS IS EXPLICITLY STATED OTHERWISE

READ THE CONTENT NOTES BEFORE CONTINUING

You’d been attending to the Phoenix for a few years. You knew of the other mythical beasts that existed, even if only by name, as Marco had done his best to keep you informed.

A bad storm had ripped you from the mountainside, however, and while you had survived with minimal injuries, you didn’t know where you ended up. The problem with this area was that there were enough mythical beasts that it often messed with the physics of the mountain.

You could be at the foot of the phoenix’s mountain, or you could be at the foot of a completely different mountain. It could be hours before he realized you were missing, and depending on how far out you were it could be days before he finds you.

Fortunately, in the time you’d spent attending to the Phoenix, you’d developed skills to help in times like these. You had your own flames. Nothing like his, but enough to keep you warm, and enough to ease the ache of your fall.

You were also a little stronger than most humans. Hunting, foraging and fishing were easier when you were faster and stronger than most other predators.

Despite that, or maybe because of it, hubris was still a flaw you possessed.

You knew to give water you couldn’t see into a wide berth, but you were too focused on trying to find food. Specifically fish. The rocky barren vibes of the surrounding area didn’t bode well for forest game, so the lake seemed a good idea.

Until it wasn’t.

The tentacle that snapped out from the water was far too fast for you. It was around your ankle and pulling you off your feet before you even fully registered it. Flames danced around you in response to the harsh impact against the stony beach as you dragged toward the water.

Pulling the survival knife you had out you drove it deep into the rocky beach as deep as you could. There was no way you’d reach your ankle, but even as the blade tossed rock and sand aside it wasn’t slowing you down much at all. A sharp tug nearly dislocates your leg from your hip as you’re lifted fully off the beach.

You manage to keep a hold of your knife, but as a mythical beast rises up from the water you’re pretty sure you might as well be wielding a toothpick.

“Zhe-ha-ha-ha…” Deep black eyes, a lush ornate black beard with a toothy grin behind it greets you as you’re brought to eye-level with the beast. “The bird’s got an attendant, huh?”

“Teach.” You growl.

“Oh, seems my brother has educated you.” His grin turns dark as a flurry of whip-like tentacles assail you in sharp snappy succession. You put up your guard as best you can, but the water-slicked appendages bludgeon and tear at you and your clothes.

You lash out at the attacks when you can, but your skills aren’t on par with the older and stronger beast. Teach nearly breaks your hand knocking the knife out of it and it’s everything you have to defend your chest and head after that. Marco can heal more on you than others, but he cannot bring you back from the dead.

You aren’t sure how bad your injuries are as small flames flicker over your skin, but you willfully suppress the reaction after a time. Just like with the original phoenix flames, yours consume your stamina in order to heal you, and you can’t risk blacking out because your body was healing surface wounds and bruises.

The assault continues until teach breaks your guard and you don’t have the strength to bring your arms back up. The attacks aside, the blood has been rushing to your head and you’re dizzy from being dangled upside down for so long.

That’s when the bastard drops you.

The water is freezing cold, and it’s not deep enough to stop you from slamming into the stony sand hard enough to knock the wind from you. It’s a struggle to break above the water line, but you gulp in a desperate and painful breath before tentacles overwhelm you again.

The strong, flexible appendages push you back underwater and rip away what remains of your tattered clothing. Revoltingly smooth and slicked tentacles pin your arms to your side and lift you up out of the water. Sputtering and coughing you try to ignore the suckers twitching against your bare skin.

“You survived.” He muses. “Attendants really are more resilient than humans.”

He brings you close to his face. He’s massive compared to you, and your legs are spread wide as he makes you straddle his stomach. His tentacles move and trap your arms behind your back as he presses your bare chest into his long and thick beard. Pearls and small gold bands decorate the mass of black wavy facial hair.

It probably looks very regal below water, but it’s cold and soggy against your skin.

“The really important question is, are attendants smarter than humans?”

Your stomach twists at the implication, but with your current state it wouldn’t take a smart person to realize what was going on.

“Zhe-ha-ha-ha-hahahahahaha!” He throws his head back and laughs loud enough his belly shakes. “You are, you are!”

You can feel the cold, slimy tip of one of his tentacles push at each of your entrances. You shudder, but you don’t struggle or try to fight back. You can’t escape his grip in the first place, and in the second you need what strength you have left if you’re going to survive.

“Entertain me, little attendant.” He commands.

“… How?” You look up into endlessly black eyes as you ask your question and feel your stomach nearly upend over the curl in his grin.

“Beg for it.”

“Drown me, you - ah!” He pulls you back and up to his mouth, flicking a thick wet forked tongue over your breasts. The action surprised you, but the continued motion was sending thrills through your chest. You hated that it felt good, hated the sweet pleasure as he teased his way into your cunt and ass at the same time.

“F… fuck.” You husk. There had to be something in what he excreted. Your body was sensitive, but not to this point. Damnable mythical beasts.

“Beg me to stop then,” he muses, the slicked tentacles pushing in deep and filling you up sweetly and perfectly in one smooth motion.

He moves you away from his mouth, using the tentacles to hold you out in the cold air. He places one massive hand on your hip, his thumb following the line of your thigh toward your clit. You shake your head.

“No,” you manage. “T-take what you want… I can’t stop you, but don’t.”

“Use you as I please, but don’t make it feel good?” Amusement in his voice turns into another laugh as his thumb rolls over your clit. You can’t suppress the sound of pleasure as your body comes undone. It feels good, it almost feels as good as Marco makes you feel.

If it wasn’t for the sickening twist in your guts from the situation it would be perfect.

“B-bastard!” You growl as he continues to tease and please you. You can feel it building up inside you. He’s being careful, and he’s certainly had enough practice to know what he’s doing. Its’ not just how he’s touching you, it’s the way he’s looking at you.

Those dark eyes are taking in every intimate detail of your body.

Teach reaches out to fondle your chest and you twist your body violently, trying to keep him away. There’s a pause and a wicked grin on his face before he retracts his hand. Instead, two tentacle snake up your sides.

Slowly.

Inevitable in their destination.

It doesn’t matter how you move, it didn’t matter in the first place, but these are already against your body. There is simply no escape.

You bite your lip, closing your eyes and shaking your head as they curve along under the swell of your breasts. Tapping and twitching, they curl against your stiff nipples, squeezing and massaging the tender flesh as Teach presses his thumb into your clit with a little more pressure. The tentacles inside you shift at the same time, massaging every sweet spot you have.

The orgasm is a surprise, the small muffled huff of pleasure turns into a raw scream as your entire body lights up in unexpected pleasure and euphoria. Teach and his tentacles move ruthlessly, sending endless pleasure through your body, inside and out, until one orgasm turns into two.

The overstimulation is almost painful, but not enough to stop the continued shocks of pleasure. When the third swell begins to consume you, you’re babbling for him to stop. Begging him to quit. No matter how you begged, swore, thrashed or roared he didn’t relent.

You cum so hard you can’t breathe for a minute, your body goes rock hard it’s so taut. It’s an animalistic sound that finally breaks free from your throat, and spots erupt in your vision as your head swims.

You don’t realize that Teach has moved you to his mouth until he sucks harshly on your clit. The pleasure and pain are like a javelin through your body. It shatters you.

All you can do is pant and sob as he pulls his tentacles out of you. Slick and piss drip from between your legs, but you’re not sure when your bladder failed you. Your senses are hazy. You can barely register that he’s talking to you, barely register the shift and change in your body.

He gives you time. Watches as the flames you can’t suppress anymore flicker over your body. You’re tired when you come to your senses, but he knows the moment there’s light in your eyes.

You get a second to understand where you are, and what happened before he thrusts up into you.

He’s massive, and it doesn’t matter how much he “prepped” you with his tentacles, doesn’t matter how you came until your muscles couldn’t even contract anymore. His thick, ridged cock bullies its way into your dripping cunt and it burns.

Grimacing, you growl against the pain, and swallow down the cry of agony as he moves without giving you even a moment to try and adjust. Every time he bottoms out inside you, you almost choke on the foreign pain. It’s deep and intense, hammering into your body with every ruthless thrust.

He takes no care with you, goading you about how you asked him to treat you this way. He’s giving you what you wanted, so you had no right to complain.

The slimy bastard uses you for hours. Filling your insides with thick, acrid cum that stings like salt in your wounds as his own heavy cock forces the cold spend out with his continued assaults.

At some point you dissociate.

It’s not until the warmth of teal and gold flames sinks into your skin that you come back to your senses. Anguish is written on the face of your Phoenix. You think you hear the revolting laughter of cold water and oily rocks, but your consciousness goes dark before you can be sure.

#birthday request event #birthday request event 2024 #one piece drabble #reader insert #x reader #marco the phoenix #marshall d teach #blackbeard one piece #cw non con #cw assault #cw dark content #cw dead dove #mdni #nsft #Thank you Zen for the request #this was... oddly cathartic.#I didn't even realize how much I needed it #until I was done writing it and I feel lighter #so thank you very much

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funkii-fox · 7 days ago

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Diavolo + Doppio DID Hcs

I feel like we need more Doppio + Diavolo content focusing on the realistic aspects of DID. I feel like we don’t focus on it enough as a fandom because it’s more convenient.

I do not have DID, so im sorry if something is incorrect or offensive. Pls tell me if it is!

Appearance

They have the same face. What makes them “look different” is their resting face. Diavolo has a naturally angry face, and Doppio has a more neutral, but approachable resting face.

I think their face is long and thin in shape. White skin with freckles. Pointy nose with a bump. Thin top lip and moderately wide bottom lip. Their eyebrows are thick at the center of the face and thin out, both in thickness and density, towards the sides of their face. Dense lashes line their eyes. Their eye color is hazel, sometimes looking green but other times looking light brown due to lighting.

Their body is lean muscular. Diavolo works out a lot, but Doppio isn’t too interested in staying strong. And since Doppio is the main, they stay a thinner type of muscular. They are very tall though. Canonically 191 cm/6’3!!!!!!

Another main way they are different is that Doppio likes his hair in a low ponytail/braid, but Diavolo likes it down. Diavolo prefers it short and undyed (natural brown), but he lets Doppio do what he wants with it. It’s better to convince everyone, even Doppio, that Doppio is the only personality by making the body “his”

Dynamic + Personality

Diavolo is the “original” personality, but Doppio is the most active personality. “Doppio” means “double”, implying that he is the “other one”. And in general, the plotline is centered around Diavolo, not Doppio.

I like to think Diavolo’s obsession with erasing all the clues of his existence stems from his disorder. He knows a lot about himself, but not who he is, and feels that no one else should know who he is if he doesn’t know.

Doppio genuinely doesn’t know the things he picks up aren’t real phones. “Hm? This is a phone, silly. Now excuse me, please. I’m talking to my boss.” It pisses off Diavolo, but he can’t just say “that’s not a real phone” bc it would blow his cover + Doppio would ask a lot of questions. “Why can’t he just pick up his own damn phone in his pocket?! You’re getting whipped cream on our face!”

Doppio is convinced he has amnesia and narcolepsy, but it’s actually just Diavolo taking over. Diavolo is the one who planted this seed in his head. “You’re so forgetful.”

Most of the day, Doppio is in control. When he isn’t doing a job for the boss, he likes to do relaxing hobbies. Although he’s a beginner, he loves drawing animals- his favorite to draw are puppies. He reads books- any book lying around that doesn’t have heavy themes. If he’s not in the mood for either of those, he likes taking walks and socializing with people he meets along the way. He never makes real friends though.

Doppio’s social life is kind of sad. He doesn’t like to think that he’s lonely, but the only person consistently in his life is Diavolo. The people he meets never usually stick- many of them think he’s too odd. He also doesn’t put any effort to keep in touch; it could be dangerous for either of them. Some of Diavolo’s paranoia rubbed off on him.

Diavolo is rarely the one in control. It’s usually about once or twice a day, for only a few hours max each time. In these few times of control, he is busy doing mafia boss work. If he’s not busy with mafia work, he prefers to keep himself busy with other stuff like chores or exercise. To him, if he’s not working, he will get caught.

Sometimes during mundane tasks, Diavolo’s mind wanders. He worries about what would happen if he’s caught. He paces the room and sweats bullets while biting his nails. Doppio always wonders how his nails get so gross. Diavolo’s condition can spiral quick, and soon he’s having a panic attack while hiding in a crawlspace. “I’m still not safe here!” He has a panic/ anxiety disorder, but no self awareness to see anything wrong nor has any intention to address it.

Sometimes, as seen in canon, Diavolo takes over if he feels like Doppio isn’t handling a mission right. He’s a micromanager in that regard, the pure fear over getting caught pushing him to stress perfection. After Diavolo takes over, Doppio is often confused about where he is + how he got so fucked up. “Gosh, what happened to me?” To sweep everything under the rug, Diavolo explains that it was Doppio’s amnesia or narcolepsy, and that he had to step in. To make sure to tie all loose ends, Diavolo makes sure to stay on calls with Doppio whenever Doppio is doing a mission. “Stay on call. I want to make sure you’re okay.” “Makes sense! Thank you, boss!”

Diavolo has a lot of unhealthy habits. He smokes, he has bad posture, he stresses himself so hard his heart nearly pops, and he works/ exercises too much. All of this is a stark contrast to Doppio’s relatively healthy life style. Doppio wonders a lot “where did this come from?” “Why am I so sore?”, so Diavolo often makes sure to hide all the evidence. For example this could be hiding the cigarettes and lighter. Or he explains away the soreness as Doppio forgot he fell and hurt himself.

Diavolo predicted his fate. Maybe King Crimson’s ability is a reflection of Diavolo constantly worrying about the future. He must’ve known he had a fate worse than death coming his way, and did damn near anything to prevent it. It’s the classic “self fulfilling prophecy” trope, if you think about it. If Diavolo never did the most to prevent his fate, maybe Giorno and the others wouldn’t have been after him.

Past

I like to think Diavolo killing his mom was because she failed to protect him. Everything he went through, all because she slept around. He choses to believe that she was making up crap to cover her ass. No chance his mom was pregnant for 2 years, and even if she was they would’ve known when she first went to prison. Everything he went through, all because she can’t obey the damn law. Was it really that hard to stay out of trouble, even for the love of your own son? “You’d think having a child would change a person!” He thought at the time, ironically. Everything he went through, it’s because of her. The common denominator is her. Now, it’s her turn to suffer.

His dream of becoming a sailor was because he hated the church. His only comfort from his life was the tranquil beach. He often sat on the sand, staring off into the ocean and dreaming of being a sailor. He dreamt of finally getting out of there, and never coming back.

Similarly, I think King Crimson’s ability is also a reflection of his past. How he was so desperate to get out of the moment, he just wished he could skip to the future. Maybe the future is better than the past and present.

I think its very interesting how DID developed this after getting out of the church. When i was researching, it seems that a common trigger is moving out of a traumatic environment, but not during the stressful time. It’s because Diavolo doesn’t want to remember the painful memories; it’s easier to remember it happening to someone else than happening to him.

The stem of their DID is long term physical, sexual, and emotional abuse by the church. The usual punishment for misbehavior was getting spanked, and by what depends on the severity of the crime. A hand, a paddle, cords, a cane, and even barbed wire. Poor boy left bleeding, bruised, sobbing, and shaking. I also find it hard to believe that he wasn’t sexually abused at least once. Even if we ignore the stereotype of Catholic priests molesting young boys, Diavolo was incredibly vulnerable. No mommy or daddy to run to, and not strong enough to fight anyone off. Can’t fight back at all or run away, because he lives with them. Is it better to submit and get molested, or to resist, get beaten black and blue, and then get molested? And I feel like Christianity as a whole is notorious for emotional abuse. There is an glorification of suffering and how it’s good to suffer because Jesus did on the cross. The notion that, “Everything happens for a reason. It’s God’s plan,” must’ve stung a lot. He was often told that “it was God’s plan” that he landed in the church. There’s also the idea that you must obey authority no matter what. It made him feel hopeless, like he can’t do anything about his life.

#diavolo jjba #vinegar doppio #my writing #jjba headcanons

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detectivestucks · 9 months ago

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A Jealous Hokage XII

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Kakashi x F!Reader x Obito

Summery: You have a second fight with Kakashi shortly before you are attacked by Aoto. Kakashi finally give you what you want.

Warnings: NSFW, fingering, unprotected penetration, violence, Sexual Assault (please begin chapter after the green stars if this triggers you)

Word Count: 9.1k

Art Credit: @akirasukuna

Part 11 New here? Check out Part 1

A/N: It's finally here! Sorry it took so long to write! There were several plot choices I mulled over. I also wanted to post both 12 and 13 close together but since they're both crazy long, it took forever 😅

You came to work on Monday with an uneasy aura around you. Shiho was glad that you weren’t gone but it wasn’t the same. She missed the old you. She looked out the corner of her eye, stealing glances of you fuming at your desk. You slam your palms down on the wood and look up, startling her.

“I’ve had enough of this.”

You scoot your chair back and leave your office, headed to the Hokage. On your way there you come across Aoto. You glare at him before looking down and slipping by.

“Hold on there, gorgeous.”

He reaches out and grabs onto your hips as you walk past.

“Don’t touch me!”

You whip around and slap your palm into his face. He staggers back rubbing his cheek growling at you.

“Oh you’re going to regret that ‘Angel’”

“Doubt it.”

You sneer at him. You were already in a foul mood. You look at him with a fever in your eyes daring him to come at you again. You were itching to kick someone's ass. If it couldn’t be Kakashi then Aoto’s cocky mouth would make a fantastic substitute. He looks at you up and down with a mix of hunger and anger. You watch as his mind calculates his next move and he ultimately decides to move on.

You stare at his retreating figure as he leaves and rounds the corner before you finally turn back around and continue towards Kakashi’s office. Now toe to toe with the double doors, you pause. Once more taking a deep breath, you allow yourself to calm down before you twist the handle.

Stepping inside, you see Kakashi sitting behind his desk like always. However, he looked his most disheveled yet. It seemed all your relationship did anymore was bring both of you pain. You were no longer happy and in love. You were miserable and falling apart. His hair was in his face, his headband, normally centered on his forehead, was on the floor by his chair. You weren’t even sure if he showered. He seemed muskier than normal, the smell of his shampoo and cologne long faded away. But when he saw your presence he sat up straight. Nothing but longing in his eyes. He felt sorry for snapping at you but he couldn’t stand the idea of you risking your life. It hurts you to see him like this. You felt your chest tighten and your hands shake. You loved him. You loved him so much it hurt, but everything you had been through recently pushes to the front of your mind.

“Kakashi, I’d like to revisit my request to rejoin the field.”

“Stop.”

“Kakashi-”

“No.”

“But-”

“No. We’re not doing this again.”

“Lord Sixth, please…” you look back up at him pleading. A tear starts to leak out of your eye. “Just allow me to be far away from this place. From these people. From all the events that hurt me recently.” A tear slips from Kakashi’s eye too. He rounds his desk and reaches for you, pulling you into his chest and holding you close to him.

“I can’t allow you to do that.”

“Kashi please, it’s thanks to you that I’m in this mess.”

His fingers tighten

“How many times have you asked me how you can fix this? This is how! Let me go!”

The pieces of his heart felt like they were shattering and being ground into sand. “I can’t” he says, defeated with tears welling in his eyes. He pulls you into him closer, the salty pearls spilling past his lash line. But you push him away, breaking the embrace.

You turn on your heel and leave his office heading straight towards the bathroom. You were hyperventilating. Yes, your feelings for Obito have grown over these past few weeks. Yes, you had thought about leaving Kakashi for him. But your feelings for Obito were nothing compared to your feelings for Kakashi. The intensity to which your heart ached for him. Every time you’re apart and you see him again it hurts your entire body. You felt crushed. You could barely breathe. You were gasping for air, tears pouring down your face. You missed him. You loved him. You wanted life to go back to how it was. You were so mad at him for doing this to you but you couldn’t help and bawl over the fact that he was suffering too. Your head was swimming. You went to stagger over to the paper towels to wipe your face but your feet couldn’t move.

Your feet couldn’t move…

You blink a few times before your eyes dart up. There was a man in the bathroom with you. His face was familiar but who was he? Pulse quickening, your mind struggles to put it together before clarity hits. He was one of the men standing behind Aoto in the lunchroom.

“What do you want?” you scoff.

“You’re awfully mouthy for a cry baby.”

“That’s a lot of tough talk from a guy standing in the women’s room. Why don’t you come closer and see how much of a cry baby I am?”

Your emotions were a roller coaster and you welcomed anyone who’d come along and challenge you right now. “Let’s see how much of a man you are once I’m done with you.”

The man scoffs, “Some shinobi you are, you didn’t even realize you were being followed.”

He had a sick cocky grin on his face and you found it infuriating. It was true, you had been too overcome with emotion to realize he had followed you in here but you could still kick his ass.

“Why don’t you release this tedious jutsu and fight me shinobi to shinobi.”

“Stupid little bitch. Using ninjutsu is part of fighting like a shinobi.”

“Fine, if that’s how you feel.”

The corner of your mouth tugs up as you look up at him through furrowed brows, hands weaving into mind transfer jutsu. You entered the shinobi’s consciousness and watched your body fall in front of the sink. As soon as you made your way inside his brain you released the pesky jutsu that had glued your feet to the floor. You were about to return to your own body so you could choke out this creep when you hear another voice behind you.

“Good job, Aoi. She’ll be more cooperative like this.”

You turn around and see two more men approach, the voice in question belonging to Aoto. Your possessed assailant's face twists into a look of disgust as you react to seeing who was behind the bathroom confrontation.

“Aoi, what’s wrong with your face?”

Using Aoi’s body, you attack Aoto.

“Aoi, what the hell are you doing?!” He shouts.

You follow Obito’s training to the letter. Taking on both men at once. Using the fact that they were afraid to use full force on their friend to your advantage. You channel Aoi’s chakura in his fist and swing on Aoto.

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you!”

You didn’t answer, you just kept hurling their friend’s knuckles at them, sweeping their legs and protecting your real body from their ill intents. They made you sick and as you fight you could hear Aoi’s consciousness shouting at you. He was angry at ‘the bitch who took control of his body.’ but you were more angry at the perv who agreed to attack you three on one.

“Aoto, I don’t think that’s Aoi!” says the third man

“What do you mean?! Of course it’s Aoi!”

“No, isn’t this girl a member of the Yamanaka clan?”

Fuck, they’re figuring it out.

“Yeah, so?”

“So all we have to do is go for her body and Aoi will be released.”

Shit.

The two men disengage and lunge towards your real body. Quickly, you return to your body just in time to escape from the third attacker’s clutches. All three jonin jump on you. You fend them off, trying to make your way towards the exit. Kicking, punching, and even channeling chakra into your face to head butt your way through them. You’d be proud of yourself for being a chunin who could hold her own against three jonin if you weren’t so terrified of the outcome if you didn’t. The thought completes just as you feel it again. Aoi restrains you once more by freezing your feet to the floor.

You panic as the men close in. You shout the only word that flashed into your mind.

“KASHI!!”

“Aww, you calling your boyfriend to come save you?”

“KAKASHI! HEL-”

A hand wraps over your mouth. “Be quiet, slut. It’ll be better for you if you just accept your fate.”

You bite his hand as you grab his wrist and elbow, using your face as leverage to fracture his arm. Even if it’s not a full blown break, you hurt him pretty good. Your feet might be useless but you can still fight.

“BITCH!”

He makes to punch you in the eye with his other arm when Aoto stops him.

“Not the face! I want to keep her pretty.”

Aoto eyes you hungrily while the unknown third man punches you in the gut. You almost throw up from the blow coughing and spitting as you clutch your abdomen.

“Just you fucking wait for when it’s my turn.”

Your already aching stomach twists as you process the implication of his words. Oh gods, please let Kakashi have heard me.

“Well, well, well, is someone having trouble in paradise? Coming to the bathroom in tears I see. Looks like you’re in need of some comfort.” Aoto says, striding towards your trapped body, staying just beyond your reach. You were wild with rage and fear. “I’d love to get a taste of how the hokage’s favorite pussy feels wrapped around my cock. You want that too, don’t you pretty girl?”

“Go to hell!” You spit in his face but internally you're panicking. Oh gods, please let someone walk in, anyone!

You go to weave more hand signs, you need to use mind confusion and get yourself free but then your arms are restrained behind you. Aoto’s bravery reaches full height and he strides all the way up to you, pushing his body against yours. The strained erection hiding in his pants can be felt against your hip. Hot tears start to run down your cheeks, realizing you were trapped. No one was coming to help you. This was actually going to happen.

“Don’t cry, baby, you’re gonna hurt my feelings.”

He starts grinding his hardened member into your leg as he begins to run his hands up and down your body. Goosebumps erupt on your skin, spreading all over, terrified of his touch.

“You’re a bad little girl, using your pussy to manipulate our Hokage. It’s almost treacherous.”

His friends laugh as they watch you.

“Don’t worry baby girl, I won’t say anything to the black ops, just as long as you give each of us a turn.”

His right hand finds the button of your pants and he undoes it.

–

Kakashi sat in his office feeling beside himself. You were trying to leave him. You were throwing yourself in the arms of danger, trying to get yourself killed. Had he caused you that much misery? Had your comrades hurt you that bad?

He stood up. He had to find you, beg for you to stay and drop this nonsense of becoming active duty once and for all. You were everything to him and he couldn’t lose you.

“Kashi!!”

He heard it faint as a whisper. Was it the ghost of your relationship haunting him?

“Kakashi hel-”

No, that was real. Something was wrong. He bit his thumb before slamming his palm to the floor. A pack of dogs appeared before him.

“Find her.”

They immediately understood and dispersed.

Soon he heard howling coming from the women’s bathroom. He ran in to see Pakkun biting Aoto’s leg. His eyes met yours. He saw your unbuttoned pants, tear stained cheeks, and the bruising fractured arm of the man restraining you from behind. The rest of his hounds gathered at the entrance of the bathroom, growling at the three Jonin, waiting for the order to attack. Kakashi’s body began radiating chakra and purple sparks of lightning. Thick and menacing, you had never sensed anything like it before. It was pure hatred.

The men attacking you lost their predatory smiles. Looks of fear soon taking their place. In an instant Kakashi whipped six kunai out of his pocket and threw all of them at once. Each blade cut the tendons in their shoulders causing their arms to fall limp at their sides. The restraining pressure of the jutsu release and your feet were free. You ran towards Kakashi who pushed you behind him. As you stumbled backwards some of his dogs moved in front of you, continuing to bare their teeth at the men.

Kakashi first rounded on Aoi and the unknown man whose arm you fractured. He punched each of them in the face so hard they both fell to the ground. You wondered if they were dead as you watched their bodies limply crash onto the floor.

Aoto could be heard whimpering as he backed towards the corner. He knew he was next. Petrified at the realization of how helpless he was, unable to fight without use of his arms. He couldn’t so much as weave hand signs to protect himself. Kakashi’s wrath now turned towards him.

“You dare to touch her.”

“This is all a misunderstanding, my Lord.”

Kakashi grabbed his arm and broke it over his knee. Aoto hollered in pain.

“You dared to TOUCH HER!”

Aoto was quaking in fear. One broken arm wasn’t enough to quench Kakashi’s anger. He reached for Aoto’s other arm and broke that one over his knee in the same manner. The screams were enough to curdle your blood as you saw how the bone punctured through his skin. You watched the scene unfold, horrified, watching the crimson liquid drip onto the tile below. Kakashi’s dogs moved forward, grabbing the two unconscious shinobi and dragging them out of the bathroom, presumably headed towards the hospital.

“Y/N!”

You jumped at the way Kakashi shouted your name. “Which hand did he use to unbutton your pants?”

“Kashi-”

“WHICH HAND!”

“Th-the right one.” you whispered, terrified.

Kakashi kicked Aoto to the ground and grabbed his right hand, proceeding to break each and every one of his fingers. Some of the digits were snapped backwards, some to the side, but all of them displaced into unnatural positions. The sound of the shattering bone sent tremors down your spine. The man was reduced to a puddle of hysterics, shamefully begging and pleading for Kakashi to stop. You see him move to rip off Aoto’s fingernails when you speak up.

“Kakashi! He-he’s had enough” you half heartedly cry.

It’s true, he was scum and he deserved this. Aoto surely wouldn’t have shown you any mercy had Kakashi not come and rescued you when he did but you couldn’t stand seeing him behave like this. It was breaking your heart to see him so cruel.

Aoto is sobbing as he looks down at his mutilated hand. Blood soaking his clothes, shattered bone poking through the skin and slicing blood vessels. Kakashi kneels behind Aoto and wraps his arm around your attacker’s neck. Aoto’s bloodshot eyes stare up at you, pleading for his life. You stare back at him with a mix of disgust and horror.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you.” Kakashi snarled, choking the life out of the man.

“I-sor-ry” the man gasped under Kakashi’s grip.

His face turned blue and he passed out from hypoxia.

Your knees became jelly at the sight and you fall to the floor. Kakashi runs over to catch you in his arms. He redoes the button of your pants and scoops you up, carrying you to his office. You bury your face in his neck. Your eyes briefly look up over his shoulder at the scene behind you. The largest of his dogs pulled Aoto out of the bathroom by the cloth of his shirt and dragged him in the direction of the hospital wing. Tears continuously seep out of your eyes, soaking his vest as your fingers clutch him, clinging to him for safety.

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

When he reaches his office he walks all the way to his chair and sits down with you balled up in his lap. The tears continue to flow as he starts to rock you. He didn’t care if he had to sit there with you for a week. He’d hold you the rest of his life if it meant he could bring you comfort.

He felt like it was his fault. He put a target on your back. Aoto would've never touched you if it weren’t for him. The guilt of everything, the job, the fangirls, the gossip, this…it was too much and he snapped.

“I’m sorry Angel. I’m so sorry.” He began to cry. “Everything's my fault. It’s all my fault.”

He continued to rock you.

“I’ll let you go. If it keeps you safe. If it makes you happy to go back into the field, I’m done standing in your way.” He was sobbing into you while you cling onto him for dear life.

At that moment you didn’t want to be anywhere else. Just in his arms…always in his arms.

“Kashi, thank you...” You bury into him more, tears still spilling out of your eyes.

“I love you Y/N”

“I love you too.”

Your arms clamor their way around his neck. Squeezing him in your desperate attempt at comfort.

“Good cause I won’t leave your side…ever.”

You feel the butterflies erupt in your stomach as goosebumps simultaneously wash over your skin.

“Let’s go home.” He whispers

“Okay”

The two of you silently exit the building holding hands, making your way to his house. You kept your heads down to avoid all the shocked stares. All the gawking faces. All the whispers. Both of you walked away with red puffy eyes to a secluded corner of the world where only you and Kakashi existed. As soon as you’re through the door Kakashi brushes your cheek.

“You must be exhausted, my Angel. Let’s get you to bed.”

He was right, though it was just after noon, you were exhausted. The fight, the fear, the horrible screams, all of it drained you. It was a sobering morning and it felt like you hadn’t slept in a week. He guides you over to his bed and pulls back the covers for you.

You slip in between the cool gray sheets. Him following behind. His arms clung around you, rubbing circles on your back as he pressed his face against your cheek. His musky scent and the remnants of his laundry detergent on his clothes fill your nostrils. The comforting scent centering you and making you feel at home. You slip into a deep sleep before your mind can relive the events of the day and you sleep through the entire afternoon, evening, and night. Not waking till the next morning.

You stir in Kakashi’s arms. He hasn’t let go of you since he carried you from the bathroom.

“How are you feeling?”

You hear his soothing voice crystal clear. There wasn’t even a drop of grogginess to be heard. Clearly he had been awake for hours but refused to let you go or leave your side. You tuck your head back into his chest before you whisper back.

“I’m okay.”

He tightens his arms around you.

“There may be questions about the events of yesterday. You don’t have to say anything.”

“I know.”

“I’ll handle all of it. Just stay in your office with Shiho and I’ll send Obito to guard you in case anyone is thinking of seeking revenge.”

He may still be furious with Obito for sneaking around behind his back and training you but he can always count on Obito to keep you safe. You felt he was going a bit overboard by enlisting Obito as a body guard. You were sure no one would dare seek revenge after seeing Aoto’s hand but it was comforting to you and anyways, you just wanted to keep listening to his voice.

“After I get all of yesterday’s business handled I’ll begin working on your field assignment.”

A wave of relief washed over you. You should be shaken and traumatized but hearing those words brought you peace. You’d be leaving the village. You’d be able to leave all this behind. You’d go deal with problems that can be solved by stabbing and punching your way through them. You silently hug Kakashi and he kisses the top of your head.

You go to get out of bed and get ready for the day, though it was proving a bit difficult since Kakashi refused to let you go. He insisted on keeping some point of contact with you the entire time. In the shower he washed you. When you were done, he dried you off with your towel. He kept an arm around your waist while the both of you brushed your teeth. He rested his hands on your shoulders while you did your hair. Even when you were changing into your clothes, he held your hand the entire time. His insistence to not let go of you made it hard to pull the fabric over your body.

You felt that the events of yesterday must have scared Kakashi just as much as you. You wonder what went through his mind when he found you in the state you were in but you quickly push the thought out of your mind, not ready to address your feelings about the incident. You instead choose to focus on the present. You lifted Kakashi’s hand to your lips before looking up at his worried face.

“You sure you’re okay?”

You silently nod. He purses his lips but doesn’t push the topic further. Instead Kakashi walks you to headquarters where there are several members of the police force, the medical team, the elders, and the Anbu waiting for him.

“Kakashi what the hell happened yesterday?! And where have you been!” Homura demanded.

“I’ll answer your questions in a moment, Lord Homura.”

Kakashi turned to his Anbu guards, “I need you to fetch Obito and have him go directly to Y/N’s office.” he then pivots to a second guard, “And I need you to stay with her the entire day. Do not leave her side.”

“Kashi, I’ll be fine. I don’t need a bodyguard.”

The severe look he gives you tells you to shut it and just accept the protection. It wasn’t for you, it was for Kakashi’s own peace of mind.

“I’ll come get you later.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

He gives you a long hug before releasing you and turning to the room full of expectant officials waiting for an explanation. You leave Kakashi and head straight to your office just as he asked you to do. The Anbu officer at your side still lost as to what happened, having no clue what got him reassigned to guarding you and only able to jump to conclusions.

You make it to your office and see Shiho rush to you, enveloping you in a tight embrace.

“What the hell happened yesterday?! You never came back and when I went to find you, the women’s bathroom had become a crime scene. You and Kakashi were missing…” She started to sniffle, “The entire building was buzzing with gossip… I was so scared.”

You hug her back and hear Obito enter the room. He must have used Kamui to get to you as fast as he did.

“Princess!”

You turn but his arms are around you before you can fully face him.

“Why the fuck did three unconscious jonin get dragged to the hospital yesterday by Kakashi’s hounds?”

You go to answer him, opening your mouth. You see the Anbu soldier look at you with interest out of the corner of your eye. Shiho stares at you expectantly, but you can’t make the words leave your lips. They simply sit on the tip of your tongue. Your eyes dart back and forth between Obito and Shiho, mouth agape before tears spill out. The two of them return to hugging you, letting you cry in their arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m not ready to talk about it.”

“That’s fine. I’ll find out from Kakashi later.” he says as he holds you. His strong arms envelop you and make you feel calm and safe. His hugs always made you feel better.

Once you calm down you go to your desk. You sit down and sift through the paperwork that was deposited there in your absence. Even though you were leaving for the field, you decided to start reading the assignments and work on them. Who knew how long Kakashi was going to be held up explaining his attack on the three men. Plus neither of you had any clue if they regained consciousness and what tale they spun to the confused medical team treating their wounds. The good news is that you had a lunchroom full of people who have witnessed how Aoto would speak to you, and Kakashi’s hounds were summoning animals who could talk so they would be able to corroborate what happened.

You sit up straight and close your eyes taking a deep soothing breath. You felt that Obito and the Anbu guard should at least have a clue why they were with you and know who to guard you from. Timidly, you spoke out into the silent room.

“Aoto…Aoto and his friends attacked me in the bathroom yesterday.”

You open your eyes and see Obito’s face. It held the same horrifying severe glare that Kakashi wore when he found you.

“Attacked you how?” He asks through clenched teeth.

You swallow and his suspicions are confirmed.

“Why are they still breathing?” he whispers with rage

“Obito, don’t.” you panic, starting to fear he’d act the same terrifying way that Kakashi had.

“They should be banished from the village!”

“I’m sure they’ll be arrested and dealt with, Obito. Kakashi will follow the proper steps.” Shiho interjected, seeing the look on your face.

She could tell there was more. Something about how Kakashi saved you yesterday must have scared you. Seeing Obito’s features bear the same look appeared to be frightening you.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You look down and shake your head side to side. Your eyes look back up at Shiho. “Kakashi…what he did… the way Aoto screamed…” you fell silent.

“What did he do?”

Obito chimes in, already knowing the answer. “According to the nurses all five fingers on the guy's right hand were broken along with both his arms. The tendons in his shoulders were sliced, one fingernail is missing, and he was choked till he was unconscious.”

Shiho looked horrified as the smile on Obito’s face grew. “Serves the piece of shit right.”

Shiho looks back at you. “And you saw him do this?”

“...He asked me which hand touched me.”

She gasps.

The Anbu officer posted by the door can be heard whispering, “Damn”

“I don’t want to talk about it any more.”

“Of course.”

You go back to reading the assignments on your desk in silence. Quiet tears beginning to dampen your cheeks.

*************************************************

Meanwhile in the Hokage’s office Kakashi was busy making arrangements for the arrest and trials of the three jonin involved in yesterday’s incident. The nursing staff who had been treating the men seemed uneasy in Kakashi’s presence. The calm, put together man in front of them was responsible for the horrific mangled state of Aoto. It truly frightened them. It was no secret that there was a time when Kakashi was deemed ‘cold blooded’ but those times were well over a decade ago. The reminder of the person he could become chilled everyone in the room.

Once the group had been dismissed, Kakashi sat down to work on your reassignment. He wasn’t sure which team to put you with. There were no gaps that needed filling. All teams were full and you weren’t skilled enough to be promoted to a position like Jonin leader or Anbu. You were a Chunin when you were last in the field. Admittedly you seemed stronger than last time around but not enough to grant you a promotion.

Maybe he could partner you with one of his most trusted Jonin who led individual missions. Sasuke would be ideal. He was scouting the earth looking for intel on the Otsutsuki clan amongst ancient ruins. Your skills would be exceedingly useful. But Sasuke’s missions were some of the most dangerous in the five great nations. If he were to run into a member of the god-like clan, Sasuke would narrowly escape with his own life, let alone protecting yours.

Kakashi’s thoughts are interrupted when he hears a knock at the door and looks up to see Obito enter.

“My orders were for you to stay with her the entire day. Why isn’t she with you?”

“She asked me to leave.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Something about my face looking too much like yours.”

“What’d she mean by th-”

“Apparently we have the same homicidal face when we want to protect her.”

Kakashi swallowed.

“I didn’t realize I scared her that much.”

“She’s got the Anbu guard with her. She’ll be fine. How’s it going in here?”

“I’m trying to figure out how to get her out of the village as fast as possible.”

Obito perked up. “You’re going to let her rejoin the field?”

“I don’t know who to pair her with.”

“Why not me?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Kakashi glares up at Obito through furrowed brows.

“Clearly you trust me to protect her. You assigned me to guard her today.”

“In public where there are witnesses. You’re not stupid enough to make a move on her surrounded by comrades.”

Obito clenched his jaw ignoring Kakashi’s insult. “Of everyone at your disposal you know I won’t let anything happen to her. I’d protect her with my life.”

“And invite yourself inside her sleeping mat that very night. Not happening.”

“What, you don’t trust her? Is your relationship that fragile that you’re threatened by me?”

Now it was Kakashi’s turn to ignore his friend. “I’m thinking Naruto’s missions.”

“Why not Sasuke? At least his missions apply to her skill set.”

“I’ve already thought about that. I’m not going to risk her going up against the Otsutsuki.”

“Fair point”

“Naruto’s just as strong.”

“And an idiot”

“-And loyal. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He’ll keep her safe”

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to her either. If she were in danger I can pull her into my void.”

“No.”

“Kakashi-”

“No Obito! She will be paired with Naruto. Accept it. I’m not letting my girlfriend be alone with you in the woods for weeks at a time!”

Obito was furious. Yes he’d love to have that kind of time with you but it wasn’t about that. He didn’t feel comfortable letting you out of his sights. Especially not after what happened to you yesterday. He wasn’t there to protect you. He didn’t do a good enough job training you. The thought of you facing danger without him by your side to protect you was more than his fragile emotions could handle.

“Fine.” Obito turns to leave before he says anything he might regret.

“Report back tonight. You have your next mission in the morning.” Kakashi barks after Obito’s retreating figure.

“Got it.” he grumbles harshly as he storms away.

*************************************************

Kakashi summons Naruto to his office to brief him on the situation.

“You got it Kakashi-sensei. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

“Thank you Naruto. Please wait here while I go get her.”

–

Your eyes widen with excitement as you hear the Anbu agent at your office door address his Hokage. Kakashi steps through the threshold to your expectant gaze. Dilated pupils, staring at him with puppy-like wonder. It melted his heart to see you so excited.

He sat down on the corner of your desk.

“Wanna come meet your new captain?”

You nodded eagerly.

The softest smile appeared under Kakashi’s mask, his eyes soaking in your happiness. It was the happiest he’d seen you since the gala. He grabbed your hand and led you to his office. The Anbu bodyguard following behind. When you enter through the oak doors of the familiar office you see the young blonde hero waiting for you.

“Naruto?”

“Yes, an exceptionally skilled ninja assigned to special rank missions. You have the same level of security clearance and will be assisting him on intel gathering and international relations.”

“I wasn’t aware you had your own unit.”

“He doesn’t. You will be a two man squadron.”

You felt a mix of emotions. You were excited by the classified missions you’d get to go on. It certainly was in your wheelhouse and similar to what you were doing here at headquarters but you also know the arrangement was Kakashi being over protective and assigning you a babysitter. …A babysitter many years younger than you at that. He was the same age as your little cousin though, he was extraordinarily powerful so you couldn’t complain.

“Pleased to officially meet you.” Naruto says with an outstretched hand.

“Likewise.” you say as you shake it.

It wasn’t really the first time you’d met. You had held intel briefings for the boy before but you worked much more closely with Shikamaru and Sasuke than you ever did with him. He seemed kind and warm; very different from his friends. You looked forward to spending time with him.

“Most of Naruto’s missions are to act as an ambassador for the Leaf. He is a well respected and liked figure so other nations are more willing to cooperate when we send him to their villages. Your presence during these visits will allow our negotiations to include swapping intel. You will look at any transcriptions they have on site, that way they don’t have to transport documents to our village. It will be a far more efficient use of our time.”

“So I’m a bargaining chip. My translation abilities for their cooperation.”

“Yes, you may be going on missions again but your mind is still one of the Leaf’s most valuable assets.”

You press your lips together but understand where Kakashi is coming from. You had been requested by several Kage to visit their villages to aid in intel efforts. Of course Kakashi would use this to the Leaf’s advantage the moment you offered yourself on a silver platter. It wasn’t quite what you had envisioned but you were happy nonetheless.

You give him a nod of understanding.

“I’ll send word to the Tsuchikage. I believe they have been the most anxious to work with you out of the bunch. I’ll summon you both once I hear back. You’re dismissed.”

Both Naruto and you bow before turning to leave. A huge smile stretched across your face. Kakashi’s genius once more impresses you. It was a well thought out idea. It almost amazed you he didn’t think of it sooner. Or, perhaps he did think of it sooner but refused to indulge in such an idea so as to not have you leave his protection. A small chuckle left your lips. It was probably the latter.

The Anbu that had been assigned to you turned his head. “What is it ma’am?”

“Just Kakashi.”

He gives you a questioning look.

“Do you think he came up with my mission today?”

“Didn’t he?”

You shake your head.

“I bet he had this idea his first week in office.”

“How did he know you’d plan to go back out on missions? I thought you had your sights set on department head back then.”

“I did. I don’t think he ever anticipated this, but he’d tell me how the other Kage would ask to borrow me. He probably refused them until now.”

You smile and continue to your office.

–

Shiho’s face lights up with excitement upon your return.

“How’d it go?”

“I’ll be working with Naruto.”

“Oh wow! How dangerous are these missions going to be?!”

“They’re not. I basically have a way over qualified babysitter while Kakashi barters my skills for international cooperation.”

Shiho chuckles. “I guess it was stupid of me to think for even a second he’d put you in any real danger.”

“Stupid indeed.”

Her face falls for a moment. “I’m gonna miss you.” She sighs as she rests her head in her hand. “I don’t want a new officemate.”

You stretch your lips into a half hearted smile. “I mean if everything had gone according to the original plan I wouldn’t have stayed your officemate anyways.”

“I know,” she says looking down and to the side. “But I’d still see you all the time. Now instead of being down the hall you’ll be across the world.”

“Hey, I’ll still visit.”

She looks up at you with a slightly annoyed smile. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

“I know.”

“Do you know when you leave?”

“Not yet.”

A light knocking interrupts the conversation.

“Excuse me Shiho, may I borrow Y/N?”

“Of course Lord Sixth.”

Kakashi’s eyes pan over to you.

“Care to walk with me?”

You smile and stand up. You stretch out your hand and he takes it in his, guiding you out into the hallway and towards the archives. In your early days the two of you spent a great deal of time sneaking around the vacant library. No one ever went in there. Only you and Sasuke ever seemed to be interested in the dusty abandoned shelves of the large intelligence wing of headquarters. And, to your great fortune, Sasuke was rarely in the village.

“Please stay posted at the door” he asks of your bodyguard.

“How long can I expect to have him follow me around?”

“Till I feel you are safe.”

You want to point out what a waste of resources it is and that the guy probably wants to be out doing real missions instead of watching the Hokage’s girlfriend but you maintain your silence and instead focus on Kakashi.

The two of you wander between aisles of bookcases, the fingers of your free hand gliding over the numerals as your eyes gloss over some of the titles.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

“You have to be aware how hard this is on me.”

“...I am.”

“You were just attacked yesterday and now I’m letting you out of the village. You’ll be somewhere I can’t rescue you. It’s…putting me on edge.”

“I thought that’s why you’re making Naruto babysit me.”

This comment is met with stony silence.

“Kakashi, Obito can always teleport to me if I’m in any real danger.”

His lips push together in a thin line, a hint of anger flashing across his face.

“Which also means he can teleport you to me if you need to get to me quickly.”

He pulls you into a hug, cradling your head with his hand.

“I know he trained you but when you get back I’d like to train you myself.”

“When I get back? Did you already get a response?”

He releases the hug and returns to just holding your hand.

“No, but I just so happened to get a raven from the Sand requesting your assistance. I’ll be sending you to them first and by the time you get back we’ll have a response from the Stone.”

“Oh. That was fast.”

He squeezes your hand. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting to send you off so soon but I think it might be best to have you out of the village till the dust settles with this Aoto business. Even if it’s hard to let you out of my sight right now.”

“Kashi…”

You stop and lift your head to face him fully, your thumb brushing his cheek. The look of pining consuming his features pulls you in. Your gaze falls to his covered mouth, your finger hooks the cloth of his mask, pulling it down and crashing your lips into his just like you did the first time you kissed here in these very archives.

His arms wrap around you, holding you with all the care in the world. Your hands slide up into his hair, pulling his face into yours.

In your haste you accidentally fall into the shelves, pulling him with you. The two of you giggle as you displace stacks of scrolls, knowing you’ll have to reorganize them before you leave. You push him up against the shelf pulling off his vest.

“You sure?” he asks

“Since when are you one to worry about sex at work?”

Admittedly the events of yesterday got him thinking and he didn’t want to be like this with you in public anymore. Not where a new assailant could be inspired and get the wrong idea about you.

“Kakashi, please?”

You weren’t used to being denied the chance to express your feelings for him. He nods his head and follows your lead, unable to say no to you. He lifted your shirt and brought his lips down the column of your neck, pressing tender kisses against the skin. You open the front of his pants but he doesn’t dare touch yours, so instead you take off your own. You step out of them and kick them over to the side to rest in a pile with both of your shirts.

“Come on baby” you say, pulling him down to the floor to lay above you.

He tenderly brushes his hand down your side before running a circle over the flesh of your behind. Your nails trace the muscles of his shoulders and arms as you open your knees, granting Kakashi access between your legs.

He understands and glides his hand over to your folds, running two fingers over the area before sinking them in. The pleasured moan you hum into his jaw fills him with euphoria. He begins to pump in and out of you, making sure to push into that sensitive spot only he knows about.

Your nails dig into him, small crescents occasionally making his skin.

Your lips suck at his neck. If you were going to be away from him, you wanted to mark him up so that he thought of you every time he took off his mask. Giving him the very same treatment he gave you. However each time he stroked you in just the right spot you had to take a break and catch your breath from how he stole it away.

A playful idea crosses your mind. You let your lips travel up to the only part of his neck that could be seen with his mask on, the skin behind his ear. His member twitches violently as your lips locked over the extremely sensitive skin. Grinding your pelvis up against him while sucking the area, drove him wild.

When you pulled back to admire your work he lowered his mouth to begin to return the favor. Soon, he realized that you were going to be acting as a diplomat. You couldn’t arrive in other countries covered in hickies. He had to preserve your appearance. You giggle at the small huff he makes when he thinks through his options.

Lowering his head he begins to suck on the soft tissue of your chest. None of your clothes would reveal love bites this low. These markings would be just for you when you changed. To remind you why you needed to get home safe. You kiss the top of he head between moans, the bruises making a tapestry across your skin. Your legs rub together, aching for him to be between them again. He was playing too much. You had needs.

“I know, Angel, I’m coming back.” he breathes into your skin

He gently licks each nipple before sitting up, kneeling himself between your legs and lining himself up with your slit. He rubs his shaft along your folds already dripping slick onto the floor. You see the precum pearling on his tip in the low lighting of the archives. Gazing at your face he sees your doe eyes drinking him in like you did that first night. It was like going all the way back to the start of your relationship. Back to the days when he was gentle with you. Terrified to hurt you, not realizing how much you enjoyed being tossed around.

But not today. Today wasn’t about passion. Today was about sending a message. He wants you to know how much he loves you. Wants to tell you that you have to come back to him at all costs. Leaving the village comes with the implied promise that you would always come home to him. No matter what.

His tip sinks in, immediately caressed by your warmth. His groan was matched by your gasp. The stretch of him pushing in always took your breath away. A small whine is emitted by you and your hips wiggle with him buried inside. You want him to start stroking but he takes a moment to stare into your eyes. His fingertips lightly playing in your hair.

Both of your hands come to each side of Kakashi’s face, pulling his lips towards yours as you roll your hips. He smiles and surrenders to your neediness. Beginning to rut into you, stroking into your adorable puffy pussy, giving it the attention you were begging for. Choked moans fill the air as he works in and out of you, his length massaging your gummy walls.

Your hands slide from his cheeks back to his hair, pulling on his tresses lightly as you fall into pleasure. He punctuates each inward motion with a slight upward thrust that hits a sensitive spot making you mewl for him. His lips pressing chaste kisses against your cheeks.

You whisper his name along with sweet nothings as you become lost in the moment. You were reconnecting, returning to the way things were. A much needed reset before you left his side for who knows how long. The thoughts of how he could spend the rest of his life like this return to his memory. The absolute bliss of your walls sucking him in clouds his mind. Grunts from his chest are breathed into your neck as his strokes begin to increase in speed.

He cradles your head, pulling your chest close to his. You nuzzle into the curve of his neck just like how he was buried into yours. He hits a harsher pace when he lifts his face up. His weight shifting backwards as he looked down on you, his hands lightly gripping your hips as you lay splayed beneath him. He smiled down at you, admiring how your body looked each time his hips collided into yours.

He lifted your right leg and brought it over to lay on top of your left one. Gently taking you sideways. Your hands reached down looking for his. He grabs onto you, intertwining his fingers with yours. Pulling you into him through the hold. Your eyes locked upon each other. Unspoken love communicated with a single stare.

The smile that stretches your lips swallows him whole. His strokes become harsh and purposeful. Each time aiming for that squishy spot deep inside you. The one that makes you see stars. His head lulls back as you constrict around him.

“Yes Angel, that’s it.”

“Kakashi…”

He lets go of your hands to hold your body covetously. Pulling you down on him so he can hit your deepest parts. Your moans swell with your pleasure. “Yes Kakashi, right there”

He keeps plunging in. He adjusts your legs to his favorite position, one between his legs, the other over his shoulder. A position that allows him all the way in.

“Oh fuck! Thank you Lord Sixth.”

He closes his eyes as they roll backwards. You always know what to say. He grinds into you, slowing the roll of his hips to savor the depth. You gasp and dig your nails into his shoulders. Your eyes watering under him, looking up at him waiting for him to reopen his own and see you pleading for him to make you both finish.

He takes a deep breath as you squeeze around him before he reopens his lids and finally sees the polite request you’re making with your gaze. He leans down and kisses your nose, acquiescing.

He begins to pump faster. Building his speed with each forward snap of his hips. The ridge of his mushroom tip dragging along your velvet walls that suck him back into your cavern. You pant and feel out of breath as he plummets fore and aft.

“Gonna cum…” you whisper, fingernails biting into him.

“Cum for me Angel. Cream around your Hokage’s cock.”

You nod your head and let yourself release, fully relaxing around him. He looks down to see the ring of your sweet fluids wrap around his base.

“Oh fuck, Angel”

He feels how your walls flutter closed around him as you orgasm with him inside of you. He loses all ability to hold back and suddenly you feel hot ropes fill you up. He gently pumps his spend deeper inside of you aiming to keep it in there for the rest of the day.

You lift your head to reach for his lips. He pushes his mouth into yours, slowly deepening the kiss as he grows soft inside of you. The two of you swirling your tongues together as you hum into each other’s mouths. You close the kiss by pulling back and giving him several pecks along his jaw and the corners of his mouth.

“You realize I’m gonna spend the rest of the day worrying about this spilling out of me.”

“Opps.”

“Psh, you probably did that intentionally.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. The two of you sit up, your legs threaded around his waist as you sit between his knees. He wishes he could spend the rest of the day on the floor with you but he knows your sudden departure means there are plenty of intel projects that need to be redirected to other task managers on top of all the responsibilities he ignored yesterday.

“We have a lot of work to do before you leave tomorrow.”

“I know…”

You sit with your foreheads resting against each other.

You close your eyes and focus on feeling him. Feeling his pulse, hearing his breathing, sensing his warmth between your legs.

“Should we get going?”

You take a deep breath. “...yeah”

You lean over and grab your clothes, beginning to put them on when you feel a glob of him slip out of your cunt. You make a face and Kakashi cracks up.

“I knew you did it intentionally…”

“I didn’t but I can’t say I have any regrets.”

–

After reorganizing the scrolls you displaced, you meet up with your Anbu agent at the entrance of the archives. He eyes the two of you suspiciously, noting your flushed skin, messy hair, and the hearts etched into both of your eyes as you look at each other. You finish your work day and Kakashi picks you up at your office to walk you home, spending the night at your place before he has to say goodbye to you the next day.

*************************************************

“Oh hey Obito.” Naruto greets as he enters the Hokage’s office. The early rays of the sun spilling through the window.

“Hey Naruto.”

“What are you doing here?”

“New mission. You?”

“Same.”

“With Y/N?”

“Yeah.” He scratches the back of his head knowing that Obito wished to be in his position. “You seen them?”

“They’re probably coming in together.”

“Oh yeah, that’d make sense.”

Just then you and Kakashi rush through the door. Kakashi strides over to his desk while you take your place by Naruto’s side.

“Good Morning!” You chipper

“Morning Y/N!” Naruto responds.

Obito however, is stunned into silence. He stares at you, soaking in the view of you in your uniform. You exude confidence in your Chunin vest layered over a fishnet undershirt. His eyes drop to the navy stretch pants covering your legs. His gaze lingering over the bandaging wrapped around your upper thigh to hold your knife holster in place. Your painted toenails poke out of your standard issue sandals and Obito feels his chest pang knowing he’s going to be thinking about this view his entire mission. It was truly cruel of Kakashi to brief both missions at the same time. He pulls his gaze away from you and towards Kakashi who is glaring at him disapprovingly. Obito feels guilty and drops his gaze.

“Obito, you had time to go over the details last night?”

“Yes Lord Sixth.”

“Any questions before you head out?”

“If I run into any enemy nin?”

“Eliminate them quietly.”

“Understood.”

“You’re dismissed.”

Obito bows and turns to leave, giving you one last longing glance that you catch. You swallow as you register his meaningful look before fixing your gaze in front of you.

“Y/N, Naruto, Gaara’s intelligence team has found three large stone tablets in ruins on the border of the nation. Apparently none of his translators know what they say but he thinks they could be connected to the actions of a band of rogue shinobi. You are to go to the capital and meet with his intelligence officers, then travel together to the location of the tablets.”

Both of you nod

“Naruto, she doesn’t leave your sight. She is never to be alone with anyone. Even if the Sand tells you it is classified information and asks you to leave the room, her safety always takes priority. Do you understand?”

“Understood Kakashi-sensei.”

Kakashi rounds his desk and grabs your hands. “Stay safe. Don’t do anything reckless.”

You blush and look down. “I won’t. I promise.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too”

Kakashi presses a long kiss to your lips. “See you in a few days.”

“See you in a few days.”

His fingers slip from yours as you pull away and walk out the door. Kakashi feels his heart drop watching you leave.

Naruto looks back over his shoulder and gives Kakashi a reassuring nod. The two exchange an unspoken conversation in just one look and understand each other before Naruto faces forward and lengthens his stride to catch up with you as you make your way to leave the village.

Part 13

Masterlist

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deadboyfriendd · 2 years ago

Text

𝙑𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙤 𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡. E.M.

Summary: Eddie isn't in college, but he sells drugs at college parties. He usually isn't into these kinds of girls, cokeheads home for the long weekend, but what happens when he meets you?

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader, obvs a lil canon-divergent, fratboy adjacent!Steve, wingman!Robin, drug use, angst to fluff, smut included

My content is 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 9.1k

Author's Note: This is secretly based off of a Fall Out Boy song. Spear me please.

Also this is 100% for @dr-aculaaa , Drac helped me out with a TON of the dialogue and plot in this and she deserves 100% of the hype for this. PLEASE go read her work.

Eddie isn’t in college, but he sells drugs at college parties.

He’s overstimulated. Both by the heat of the girl grasping and gripping his arm that was turning it unpleasantly raw and by the lack of anything substantial that he could focus his senses on. He can’t remember her name, and it wasn’t because of the seventeen other things distracting his senses, either. She was inherently unremarkable. Another cokehead from The Hideout. College girls home for the long weekend. Love does not occur in dive bar bathrooms, Eddie knew that much.

He could tell her apart immediately, a Pamela Anderson wannabe with all of the intuition to sniff out anyone remotely Tommy Lee adjacent. The glorification of hard drugs and dysfunction. This would not go anywhere but possibly the bathroom, where she would emerge with a misty ring of powder white around her left nostril and blown pupils. He would taste the drip on her later that night when she would kiss him in a grotesque masquerade of her own cold comedown, denial dripping from her lips with a sticky sweetness disguised with L’Oreal Colour Riche Rich Brown. There were a thousand more like her, some here at home, others in Indianapolis, even more in Chicago.

She was pretty for a cokehead, but not nearly as pretty as you.

He spotted you through past the popcorn ceilings, under the fluorescent kitchen lights that were not particularly attractive for any given reason. You were the only girl here who didn’t know how he was. He had been stuck in the pipeline of town deviant to Indiana’s metal microcelebrity. His eyes locked on the kiss of your lashes as the aforementioned date dragged him through the density of other sweaty, coked-out bodies. You swung your legs back and forth as the scuffed rubber from the heels of your sneakers thudded against the hollow cabinet beneath you, rattling the pots behind it.

She shrieks your name like a birdsong, and you whip around with wide eyes. She drags him along, pulling uncomfortably at his fingers. She bounces up and down in a way that she thinks is attractive, but to everyone else, the jingle of bangles and sequins and squealing is inherently annoying.

You are not her friend.

You had become acquainted with the girl before you in an entry-level introductory course for environmental design. It was offered as an elective across all majors but was also stupidly a requirement for all design-specific majors. And, even more unfortunately, the majority of the class was group work. This is how you met her. And she attached to you like a fungus— roots buried in branches that grasped your bones and made her impossible to remove without the inevitability of spawning again. She was a roach of a friend, not even nuclear warfare could rid you of her. But you were too nice to her, in fact, you were the only person that had given half a shit to include her.

“Oh my God!” There’s a resonant tenor screech that reverberates off of the tile floors and pitches in your own ears so high that it could shatter any champagne flute within a ten mile radius. The guy— poor bastard– being dragged ruthlessly behind her like a content stray cat that had been claimed by a small child twitched an eye nearly shut at the pitchy shriek that plagues him as much as you.

She explains how you met in an effortful, but drawn-out and utterly painful, story. It was a class. You were assigned a group project. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.

But his hand was warm when it encased yours in an entirely professional handshake. You shook the thought from your head before it was even allowed to form. You desperately needed to kick the habit of falling in love with strangers in passing. You would not find the one at a party— at least not this one.

It wasn’t long until she had gotten distracted, an old friend, as she had put it. There was no friend. Only powder on a mirror in the next room over. You questioned why she lied, because she wasn’t even discreet about it.

“How can you be a nurse and do so much blow?” He asked, face twisted up in a sickening scowl. She had long forgotten about him and he tried his best to forget about her.

“Girls like that usually are.” You deadpanned back, your face mirroring his own disgust.

“Nursing majors?” He questioned, her major the only thing he could remember about her at this point.

“Yeah. It’s the safest option. It keeps their parents happy while they put their financial aid up their noses.” You watched her try to discreetly gum some remnants off of the mirror sitting on the coffee table, pinkie finger dragging alongside the glass and disappearing behind her bottom lip.

“I’ll bet she won’t finish off the semester.” You stated bluntly after a few seconds of spectating.

“What about you?” He asked, in reference to your major.

“Basket weaving. It’s really not much.” You didn’t want to come off as judgmental, or a prude. Especially not after admitting you were a design major. You cringed at how pretentious it sounded.

“I like baskets.” He said, plopping himself down on the barstool across the island from you, toe thudding against the exterior to stop him from spinning too much.

“Design.” You said, more of a mumble than a statement. You felt stupid. People usually thought you were stupid when you told them you dropped out of nursing school to be a design major. He didn’t need to know that part of you. After all, he was just some guy at a party and not the love of your life.

“Of what nature?” He questioned, laying his head tiredly against his folded arm and looking up you you through thick lashes.

“Of the graphic nature.” You were thoroughly surprised when he stuck around, head tilting to the side in curiosity — a stray curl bouncing from one side to the other.

“What, like Chip Kidd?” Your head shot up. Sure, he was one of the hottest names in design this year, but who cared about design outside of designers? Next to no one. You forced yourself to play it cool.

“More like a Stefan Sagmeister.” You grinned, bringing you knees to you chest and folding your arms over them.

“You’re a Stones fan?” He questioned, brow cocked.

“Who isn’t?“

“You’d be surprised.”

“Well, surprise me, then.”

Eddie isn’t in college, but he knows a girl that frequents college parties.

This time it’s at some kickback in the woods, and this time it was to sell drugs— but seeing you was like a reward as you folded and contorted your own softness into comfort in the back compartment of his van, legs leaned against his side in search of warmth against the brisk nip of the reminiscence of winter. He draped his arm over your knees as he stood casually in wait, wondering how women could fold their bodies into strange statutes of comfort in only the ways they know how.

You were good for business. Everyone and their mother seemed to know who you were. Probably because you were sweet. Especially to him.

You’ve been casually sleeping with each other for a few weeks now, only when you can catch each other through hushed communal dorm phone-calls or whenever you come home for the weekend. No-strings attached, no commitment. But this outing sure felt like commitment, in the same way it felt like commitment when he held your hand earlier, and the same way it felt like commitment when he pressed his forehead against yours during your last entanglement.

He leans over to you, alabaster skin of his neck stretching over bone and artery so he could whisper to you,

“This is kind of lame. Let’s get out of here.”

You weren’t one to refuse him, especially not when he looked at you like that.

“I’m not losing out on high school drama. I’m down.” You whisper back to him, pulling the end of an unruly curl just to watch it spring back up into place.

While he’s watching the road, you’re memorizing the features of his face. If he could sparkle right now, he would be, even as the only light catching his face was from the too spaced-out street lamps. He drives in near-silence, whatever cassette buzzing hushedly over the radio but quiet enough that you could hear the vapid spinning of the tires and his occasional slow breath.

You see the headstones before he has a chance to speak.

“You’re gonna murder me.” You breathed out, joking mostly.

“Yeah, right here, in the cemetery. Then I’m gonna bury you in a fresh grave.” He said to you, between eye rolls, getting out of the van to go pull the back doors open and straighten the woolen saddle blankets so you could sit.

He pulls an acoustic guitar down from a makeshift bungee-cord rack fixed to the sidewall of the interior of the van, This Machine Slays Dragons crudely scrawled across the face to mimic Guthrie’s own.

“I didn’t know that fascists breathed fire.” You said to him through a halfway-crooked sort of smile, pushing yourself up to lean against the sidewall of the van, facing him. You let one leg swing back and forth, the rubber toe of your shoe tapping mindlessly against the seemingly useless tow hitch.

“I knew you were more than just pretty.” He said, mouth turning up at the sides of his mouth. He was pretty, peering at you from beneath lashes before turning his attention back to the tuning knob. He strummed a calloused thumb across the tight string, listening to it upturn until he thought it sounded right.

It was a foreign ritual to you, his own prettiness being the catalyst for your own destruction before his vapid excuse at being a boyfriend ever could. . You watched silken curls slip over his shoulder and brush over the neck of his guitar. You watched as pretty deft fingers strummed a progression you would never understand. You desperately wished it was you, instead.

It was like you were experiencing him through a macro lens, and it only made him more beautiful. His eyes came up to meet yours, dark and rich in the twilight that fell over you. You couldn’t have stared at him for more than a few seconds, but it was enough for your own giggles to bubble over.

“Oh god.” You say through cupped hands, burying your face in your palms. You knew he was looking at you like you were crazy– all in good humor.

“What?” He asked, unable to contain his own chuckle at this point.

“You are literally the guy at the party that brings the guitar.” You managed through your bouts of giggles.

“I don’t see much of a party here, sweetheart.” That smile curled again at his lips, this time with more teeth. You didn’t want to stare more, despite his fingers strumming the beginning cord of a song with all of the tenderness he could muster.

“Then who are you playing for? The ghosts?” You giggled again, looking around at the eeriness of the headstones. Had it been cooler, it would have been more off putting, but the swelling heat of summer that had settled over Indiana almost gave it some comfort.

“You. Five regulars at The Hideout. Any ghost that wants to listen.” He laughed back, stopping his strumming to look back up at you.

“Are you actually good?” You folded your knees upwards, turning yourself fully towards him. You rested your folded arms on top of them, pressing your chin against them to stare at him.

“Would you just shut up and listen? I wrote a song about you.” It wasn’t hurtful, never was it hurtful. He said this towards you through pretty lips and even prettier winks.

It wasn’t anything great. Three cords and two lines, but you wished you could record it and play it on a loop over and over again until your walkman caught fire. His voice wasn’t smooth, but it wrapped around you like a blanket, and, suddenly, it was your favorite sound. There was one thing you knew for certain, you wanted Eddie to sing to you every day for the rest of your life.

“So you actually are good.”

He rolled his eyes at you, casting the guitar aside as quickly as he had gotten it down. His lips met yours in a rapid staccato of haste kisses, first long, then followed by the plethora of short. You felt calloused fingers dig into the plush of your waist.

It usually ended up like this. You’d laugh, you’d fall in love with him over and over and over again. You would have sex, and then it would be weeks. Weeks of trying to get your life back together and weeks of trying to remember yourself before him. But, God, when he kissed you over and over like that you would gladly break your heart for him. You wanted him to break it– if it meant that you could have him for this moment.

“This technically is a party, you know?” You whispered a breathy giggle against his lips, peeling an eye open to peer at him.

“What?” He asked, pulling back slightly. His lips were still glossy with the taste of you, but his eyes peered down at you in a way that made your stomach flip. You debated letting him take you in a cemetery.

“Earlier, you said that you didn’t see much of a party. But we are here… at one, I mean?” Eddie looked around, eyebrow raised in utter confusion before clueing into what you had meant.

“What with… them?” He asked you from behind the back of his hand, as if the bodies beneath you would be offended if they had heard.

“Yeah. With all of the people buried here.” You stated, matter-of-factly.

“I don’t think they’re much partying anymore.” Eddie explained to you, looking around the cemetery with raised eyebrows.

“Look… you know how the saying goes: one's company, two’s a crowd, and three’s a party? Well, this is a lot more than three. They don’t specify if they’re of the living disposition or not.” You argued back, trying your hardest to contain your own smile.

“I’m saying no one here is having a good time.” He argued back in mock frustration, palms jutting out towards the headstones around you in confusion.

“Besides us?” You asked him, with wide eyes.

“Yes, besides us.” He said to you, reaching out to grip the opposite side of your waist and pull you into his side.

“I can see it now. Here lies Edward— what’s your middle name?”

“Not a chance.”

“Edward ‘Not a Chance’ Munson. He partied so hard he died.” You said, holding your hands out in a picturesque fashion. You couldn’t contain your own giggles.

“Are you always a wise-ass?” He said, from behind a forward chuckle.

“I don’t know, am I?”

“Yes.” He looked down at you from beneath his shoulder, his eyes meeting your own endearingly.

Eddie had a really bad habit of completely derailing your life with a single look. Once your eyes met the ambergris bourbon of his, you swore you could see the next ten years of your life. You swore you would ever be domesticated– at least not by any frat guy you met at a party. You hoped you were never domesticated. You hoped you never learned the subtlety of wifelyhood of motherhood. You never wanted to be reduced to that. But Eddie wasn’t in college, and Eddie could reduce you to that with one soft glance.

“ –What about him?” You asked, averting your eyes from his. You would not let him derail your life again. Not tonight, at least.

“Who?” He asked, genuine confusion registering across his once-soft features.

“The guy buried there.” You specified. The headstone read a barely decipherable name, followed by 1902.

“Was he a wise-ass?”

“No, stupid, how did he die? What kind of life did he live?” You said, bringing up your hand to deliver a soft slap to his chest. He wished you would do it again.

“Tuberculosis.” You stated, bluntly, looking back down towards you with a smile.

“Not everyone in 1902 died of tuberculosis.” You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, but a lot of them did.”

You figured he was right, your microbiology prerequisite failing to regurgitate within your brain. A silence settled over the back of the van, but it was comfortable. You allowed yourself the comfort of leaning your head against his chest, and rested his against your own. You tried to hear his heart from here, wondered if he had one at all. Surely he didn’t, if he could break your heart and put it back together all over again. Part of you hoped he did, and an even bigger part of you hoped that you had a place in it somewhere. You wouldn’t allow yourself to dwell on that fact for long.

“Hey, Eddie?” You asked, barely above a whisper. Yet, breaking the silence felt like breaking glass. Had you been talking too much?

“Yeah?” He asked, in an equally quiet tone. You wonder if he felt it, too.

“Why here?” You asked, without needing to elaborate further.

He thinks about it, silent for a second, and then breaks the glass again.

“I feel more like a ghost than anything– makes me feel less alone.” He says, finally. He refuses to let his eyes meet yours. It made sense.

Some of the girls you went to school with still talked about it. Still talked about their friend, Chrissy. You understood that he had been a key suspect in a high-profile murder case.

Well, as high-profile as Hawkins, Indiana, population: 2000, could get.

They had found their suspect— apparent suicide. It happened all of the time. Kids try drugs, and drugs end badly. You had seen it before, and you’d see it again. It wasn’t Eddie, nor was it his Uncle– the man with the kind eyes and the gruff exterior that sometimes waved at you from outside Eddie’s van. You tried not to wonder if he thought you were a skank. You should introduce yourself, sometime.

A lot of people forgot about it after the Earthquake, their own lives crumbling enough to where they didn’t have to speculate the downfall of someone else.

It made sense why he would think that. The same as the ghost that inhabited the loft above The Hideout where he played.

It must have been exhausting having someone vilify and formulate your existence all the time.

You decided not to pry. Instead, you read the headstones in front of you, children, the elderly. You focused on one elongated headstone fixated into the ground in front of you. William and Helen Lester. Born in 1910 and 1912, respectively. Died the same year as each other,

“What about them?” You asked him.

“They were madly in love, they reserved their plots together before they died so when one joined the other they could take comfort in knowing that they would stay together.” He answered, without hesitation. You wondered if he knew them personally.

“Do you believe that they did?” You asked, instead.

“Stay together?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess that depends on what they believed.” He shrugged, rubbing his hand up and down your shoulder a little bit.

“Well, what do you believe?”

He lets out a long sigh, more joking then not.

“Well, way back when my uncle first got custody of me, he thought it would be a good idea to start taking me to church. Save me before it was too late… or whatever.” He raked his hands through his hair, sitting up a little to look at you before continuing,

“ -Wayne wasn’t much of a church guy, either, but the nice lady that lived next door to us was, so we started going to church with her. They told us that if we did everything we were supposed to do… tried to live by the book, and that we found our person, that it would be an eternal binding after marriage, or something like that.”

“Do you really believe that?” You questioned.

“If there’s anything from my churchgoing days that I hoped would be real, I hope it’s that.” He sighed, pulling his arm off of you to lean back .

“Why?”

“I don’t think I could ever stand to be alone like that again.” He shrugged, and you knew you had struck a nerve.

“Well, what about us?” You questioned.

“What about it?”

“Do you think we’ll stay together?”

“We’re not really even together.”

It was then that you realized that maybe he did have a heart, but you didn’t have a home within it. There was one thing for certain, however, and that was that he had made himself a home in yours like a fungus. It was then that the introductory biology courses you could never remember remained heavy on your brain.

Mycelium

Mycelium are incredibly tiny threads of the greater fungal organism that wrap around or bore into tree roots. Taken together, mycelium composes what's called a “mycorrhizal network,” which connects individual plants together to transfer water, nitrogen, carbon and other minerals—

Eddie was a fungus in dormancy. He had a mycelial network, and its threads had wrapped and wound their ways through the finest intimacies of your life. Their hairline structure filled their place between any gaps you weren’t careful enough to seal. Even when he wasn’t in your life, he was there.

You can’t be heartbroken over him if you never had him.

You know he is talking. You know he continued with a backstory in some form or another. Your guess would be something about spending every waking moment alone after the incident. How no one’s mothers who were kind enough to give him the benefit of the doubt in the first place would no longer let their children— his friends, around him. Something about how he wouldn’t blame them.

“Hey, are you okay? You went all silent on me there.” He finally asked, tugging on a strand of your hair, playfully. You felt like crying, but you wouldn’t. Not until he was gone.

“Yeah, just tired I guess.”

Tired of getting attached, tired of derailing your entire life for him.

“Oh. I guess I should probably get you home, then.” He said, beginning to slide out of the van.

You were thankful he didn’t pry, but a part of you wished that he would. You had him for weeks, it was commitment-adjacent at the very least. It felt like you had him tonight, and it felt like you had him in all of your spare time. It also felt like you had him in class, doodling his funny little devil horns all over your notes. It was the subtlety of this heartbreak that was the worst– or maybe the fact that it wasn’t really heartbreak in the first place.

You still let him sleep in your bed.

Robin is a textbook lesbian, which also makes her the best wingman on the face of planet earth. She assessed the situation over a pre-roll, as someone who was both a woman and someone who pleasured women.

Steve isn’t a frat boy, but his relentless good looks and halfway dumb demeanor are wasted on that fact. He assessed the situation as such.

Eddie swore they both only hung out with him for the pot.

It had been weeks since your last call, in which you had mentioned something about a final or something before the line went dead. Maybe you were actually dead. Killed in some freak accident that the news didn’t even know how to cover so they just… didn’t. Eddie’s dignity thought it would be preferable if you were.

“ — Boys are stupid. Hence why I date women.” Robin stated bluntly from Steve’s bedroom floor, between clumsy, fumbling lighter flicks.

Eddie rolled his eyes, did he have to do everything? He plucked the lighter from her hands, lighting the pre-roll in one swift motion before looking back at her.

“Some of us aren’t as lucky.” Eddie said, throwing his body back against the side of Steve’s bed, causing Robin to bounce alongside him.

“To be of the homosexual disposition?” Robin questioned, turning to face him.

“To understand women.”

“Again, you don’t need to understand them, You’re just stupid.” She waved her hand, dismissively.

“God, I know I’m stupid, please just help me.” He said to her, dragging his hands down his face with a vigor.

“Okay, run the cemetery scenario by me again. Word. For. Word.” She said back, joint tucked between her pointer finger and thumb, elbow rested atop the comforter.

“Okay—”

Eddie can remember everything about that night. He remembered what you were wearing. He remembered seeing the smattering of new freckles across your shoulder as it peeked out from under your summer sweater– a reminder that the heat of summer was quickly settling over you. He remembered the rhythm that the rubber toe of your sneaker tapped out as he strummed against his guitar. He remembered how you knew Gutherie and batted your eyes at him in that pretty— so fucking pretty– way and how you batted your lashes at him when you asked too many questions that he was suddenly inclined to answer.

Eddie remembered what he said.

“And then I said, ‘well, we aren’t really even together-”

“There!” Robin shouted finally, hands splayed out, smoke continuing to roll from between her fingers,

“What?!” Eddie jumped, running his hands from the crown of his head and down his t-shirt, in search of whatever bug Robin had screamed at him about.

“That’s where you fucked up!” She clarified.

“ — really fucked up.” Steve chimed in from his desk chair, sunglasses slipping low on his nose despite the approaching twilight, using the toe of his sneaker as traction in order to spin himself in half-circles from his corner.

“How?” Eddie asked, raking his fingers through his hair and giving his roots a soft tug.

“You totally took everything you had with her and threw it right in the dumpster.” Robin continued, fully ignoring him.

“ — and lit it on fire!” Steve chimed over his shoulder, chair spun backwards towards the wall.

“Shut up, Steve.”

“Just saying…”

“Anyways, you implied that you didn’t want a relationship with her.” Robin said, finally softening a bit.

“No, I wanted her to say something like, ‘Well, then can we be?’” He explained back to her, almost on the verge of tears.

“That’s the problem, dingus.” She rolled her eyes, delivering a soft smack to the side of his head.

“Ugh,” Eddie muffled out loudly from behind his palms.

To him, you were pretty, and smart, and entirely too good for him. You were right for ghosting him, he would never blame you for that. You had all the reason in the world to hate him and you still didn’t— until he gave you one.

To you, he was just a boy– one who harbored too much heartbreak that makes him meaner than he anticipates. Eddie wasn’t mean by nature, but right now, he sure felt like it.

He pulls his temples back with the heels of his hands, “She’s just so smart and she has to think I’m the dumbest human being on planet Earth.”

“You are the dumbest human being on planet Earth.” She snuffed out the roach into the ashtray, twirling around for slightly too long.

“Gee, thanks.”

“But not for that reason.” She pulled her knees up to her chest, turning to face Eddie, “You’re stupid because you expected her to read your mind. You had the upper hand. She was prompting the love confession from you and you probably shattered her heart into a million tiny pieces.”

“Can I even fix this?”

“I’m a wingman, not a miracle worker, dude.”

“Steve? Anything to chime in?”

“You fucked up.”

“No shit.”

Eddie isn’t in college, instead he plays guitar.

In the midst of his own suffering, he still has to perform. He isn’t one to pass up the money or the attention— especially since they’re crowds now exceeded into the double digits. They had graduated from the Tuesday-night noisemakers, to the Friday-night headliner, a few people even making their way over to bar-crawl from the next town over.

Eddie leaned his weight on the speaker, tuning and strumming in a half-assed, absent-minded routine. There was a decent group tonight, people grouped standing in the back once the tables and bartop had been promptly filled.

Jeff approached him, bass slung heavy over him, “Don’t look now, but I think you might know someone here.” He peered at you over his shoulder.

Eddie looks anyway, met with your eyes.

You looked pretty tonight. You looked pretty always.

You had your toes propped against the bottom rung of the barstool, knees pulled tight together, and a drink in hand. He didn’t recognize the people you were with, but he didn’t know very many people anyway. Not like you did. You were likable, and he liked you a lot.

He didn’t know what he was expecting you to look like after a month, but he was stupid thinking you’d look dramatically different. You were still soft— still glowed even in this not-particularly-flattering light. You looked happy and he hated it. He hated that you could smile at a time like this. It was selfish, he knew it. He wanted you to be a wreck over him. He wanted the comfort in knowing that you were the same mess that he was in over you.

Jeff gives him a nudge to say something into the mic once they got the go-ahead to play. He tells Jeff he can do it tonight. The tether that binds you together is made of water— the softest vibration would break the surface tension and it would splash on to the concrete. He wanted to watch you be pretty for just a few more seconds, even if it meant giving up his ego for tonight. He wanted to remain unseen on stage, but the pinch harmonic of his opening riff sent your head snapping towards him.

Your look made him want to crawl beneath the floorboards.

Your acquaintance, a girl that was a friend-of-a-roommate who had invited you out, placed a hand on your shoulder, warm and too-friendly, “This band is really good!”

“I know!” You shouted over the music, too warm already. Maybe it was the bottom-shelf peach schnapps. It was most likely the bottom-shelf peach schnapps.

“Oh, you’ve seen them before?” She asked, pulling her chair up closer to yours.

“Something like that!” You had explained, pulling the strap of your purse from your neck where it dug in too harshly.

You felt underdressed for the occasion. Despite definitely having people to impress, you didn’t feel the need. But now, with Eddie’s eyes that you tried desperately to avert yourself from, you’d felt your skin in a way that you never had before. Maybe you were drunk.

You were most definitely drunk, enough so that it was teetering off the edge of pleasant and dipping into the waters of uncomfortable. The music was too loud and there were too many people and your purse strap kept digging into the crevice of your neck in a way that was both painful and overstimulating.

You couldn’t remember how many songs Eddie’s band had played– fuck— you couldn’t remember what they were called. Had been playing for a while, enough for the lines between songs started to blur and it felt like forty-five minutes of continuous time signature. You couldn’t decipher a lot between the hum of the nearly-blown speaker anyways.

Eddie’s eyes met yours, shiny beneath the bar stage lights. He looked angry. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the genre of his song or because of you. He isn’t insatiable or anything, and he had hoped to God that you were still paying attention. By the look on your face and the way you craned your neck to look at the girl next to you, you hadn’t been for a while now. Your nonchalance had poured the gasoline, your smile lit him ablaze.

The next line of the song was about you, an ode to the women he’d loved before– which weren’t many– conveniently placed as the last song of the setlist. He wrote it with the fantasy that you would stroll through the doors and hear it, but now that you were here, he didn’t know if he had the heart to be mean to you. He didn’t want to be mean to you. It was vaguely written enough so that the other girls that looked up towards him would think it was about them, a heartbreak anthem, a sorry anthem. An ode to the cemetery and the ghost that he had become without you.

You understood it, though you chose not to act like you had. You didn’t think you had been in his life for long enough to warrant a song– at least one with more than three cords and fifteen seconds of play-time. Why would he? You were never even together. Your ears rang with the remnants of sound, yet you watched your party— the greek bar-crawlers, get ready to head to the next location down the block. You couldn’t even remember what bar it was.

The girl next to you– fuck— you couldn’t remember her name either, was leveling with your tipsiness. Maybe she hadn’t teetered over the edge of drunk like you had. You let her take your hand anyways, pushing through the double doors in your party of eight.

The familiarity of the van backed in front of the entrance haunted you, like it had brought a ghost back with it from the cemetery. Maybe Eddie was the ghost. Maybe he was haunting you. Maybe you were haunting yourself.

The party discussed some form of game plan. You thought it was stupid, hockey practice was over. Yet they were drunk, and they were rowdy, and they were a spectacle. Suddenly and all at once, unfamiliar lips were on yours, violent and sloppy. You tasted cherry, sticky against your own peppermint chapstick. Soft feminine hands gripped your jaw, pretty tuberose and jasmine on the girl from earlier filled your nostrils in a way that was not quite suffocating, but all encapsulating. It was an Estee Lauder Eau de Parfum. You recognized it from the yellow bottle you had gotten for your fifteenth birthday.

Kissing a woman was a different ballpark, kissing a woman drunk was an entirely different sport. She was softer, less volatile. She had a languid softness to her waist where men were typically more solid. Her hands were more graceful. You relinquished it, both in the spectacle of the others in the group and the fact that she was what Eddie wasn’t.

From behind the van, Eddie watched you. The floral passion in which you sloppily tangled your manicured hand into the blonde mass of the girl in front of you. Isn’t it unfair? He desperately wished it was him. Wanted to be the reason for the surrounding wolf calls. Eddie wasn’t particularly introspective, but he was dying to be her. A notch in your bedpost, a one night stand, a lover.

Eddie wanted to be her.

Eddie isn’t in college, and it's mostly because he’s stupid.

Robin let him know it, too.

There is an afterparty, or, at least, the loose adjacent to one. The band, some friends of the band, and communal alcohol strung loosely across the island at Gareth and Jeff’s condo. Donated pot courtesy of a combined effort of Rick and Eddie. He didn’t feel like partying, but he did feel like getting really, really drunk. Lecture be damned.

MD 20/20 Red Grape Fortified Wine tasted a little like alcohol and a lot like feeling sorry for himself.

The grave was already dug, all he had to do was sit in it and wait for someone to backfill.

Robin stood, arms braced against the island across from Eddie. The fluorescents in Gareth’s unrenovated kitchen burned his eyes, “I can’t help you if you don’t want it.”

“I don’t want it,” He specified, pulling a long drink from the glass bottle, “ –but I have a feeling I’m gonna get it anyways.”

“I thought you wanted her back, dude.” The fluorescent lights casted a downwards glow across her forehead. Eddie thought it gave her a Kubrick stare.

“I don’t know what I want, I thought I did but then I got up there and I sang about her and she didn’t even care.”

In one swift motion, she hopped onto the counter, crossing her legs beneath her, “Well, obviously you care.”

“I don’t care.”

“If you don’t care about her then why do you lose your shit every time you see her?”

“Because, Robin, who the fuck else is gonna love me after all of the shit we’ve been though?” He slammed the bottle down on the table. It was enough to rattle the cabinets beneath it, “She was the one good thing that’s happened to me in a long fucking time and I couldn’t even let myself be just content with that.”

He’s angry, suddenly. With himself, with the universe. The alcohol didn’t help. The feigning headache was more annoying than it was painful. Robin wanted to roll her eyes, to call him stupid and dramatic– but she figured he knew it already. It’s not like he wasn’t warranted in his anger, he was, but she wondered why he had been so pent-up lately. Maybe it’s because there was no Eddie way for Eddie to deal with this. After a bleating silence, she spoke:

“Have you even talked to her yet?” She asked.

“No, and I’m not planning on it.”

“Why not?”

“Because, dude,” Eddie played himself out across the tile island, trying to ignore the way his t-shirt just mopped up the sticky sweet liquid on the counter, “ – you know why.”

Robin did know why.

“And?” She asked.

“They were all over each other, like, like…” He was getting frustrated now, unable to string words together in a cohesive sentence.

Robin finished for him, “Like you were?”

“Yeah. Like she didn’t even care.” He leaned his head down on his folded arms,

“Maybe she wanted you to think that.” Robin asked him. She thought she sounded more like his mother than a lesbian wingman. This is what he needed. “Maybe she wanted you to chase her.”

“I don’t understand why.” He groaned, “She’s unpredictable. And pretty. And smart. And fun. And everyone likes her. Do you know how many friends she has? How many people like her?”

“Because maybe you’re not as bad as you think you are.”

And he isn’t. Eddie isn’t inherently bad– albeit a little bit dumb. Maybe that just came with age, or the nature of him. Actually, behind the external composite disposition and his defensive nature, Eddie was the opposite of bad.

That first ‘surprise me’ reverberated in his mind like a crescendo. He was feeling brave that night. It was all ego, and most likely a touch of golden whiskey courage. He could still taste it on the back of his tongue when his mouth met yours in a clumsy, quick, spur-of-the-moment kiss. He didn’t have time to be insecure about it, the afterthoughts of gum or mints being pulled from his mind by your fingers as they combed through the soft curls at the nape of his neck. As he moved down to press pillowy-soft kisses in the soft of your throat, he took in your scent– like the citrus groves just outside of town in the spring, when the little white flowers covered the expanse of the rich green rows.

It was fast and sweet, his hands pushing your summer cotton t-shirt up your waist with warm, rough hands– encasing the ribs where they curl to meet with your spine in a vice. You were eager, not that you were easy– you almost didn’t care if he thought of you that way– in the way you slid his vest off of him. He threw his arms back quickly, shaking it loose from his wrists as he came back up to meet you. The chain of his bracelet was cold against the plush of your stomach as he dragged it down towards the button of your denim shorts.

“We don’t have to do this now,” He separated from you in hesitation, “I can take us back to my place, use my be—”

“No, ‘need you now.” You insisted, your kiss more pressing than before. You clung to him fervently.

You aren’t confined to your softness. You are vocal, grip on his shoulders and his heart like a vice. You were soft in the right places though, in your waist and beneath his hands coming undone, soft in the way you spoke to him behind closed van doors. Pillows over sharp corners, a guard to balance your too-loud laugh or the frequency in which you found yourself too drunk.

You were stone-cold sober that night, and he thanked whoever was up there looking out for him that you were. You wouldn’t have been here, otherwise.

You were a painting, and not one of those stupid ones that he had to talk about in history class. Like a real, in-your-face, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. Not quite like a centerfold, better than anything he’d counted pennies for at the drugstore, ethereal beyond words. Soft for him and only him, bumps and curves and dips and folds in places you didn’t see in those. Real, right in front of him. His for the taking.

The night had turned already to that imperceptible pivot where midnight turned to early morning hours. This moment has come and gone, yet you are not yet willing to concede that you have crossed the line beyond which is all gratuitous damage and the play of unraveled nerve endings.

He plunged his middle and marriage fingers within you with a vapid expanse for pleasure, reaching in deep and curling upwards, gathering slick between fingers and back out again. You could feel every ridge within yourself, your softness pulling him back in once he had pulled out again.

You allow him, no, encourage him to line himself up within you, and you are warm. Warmer than anything he has ever felt in his life. Tight like a hug. The flavor is vaguely tribal– pendulous guitar-pick necklaces and ritualistic moans of endearance. A gathering drum of heartbeats and a bonfire lit within your core.

His chest is hard above you, expanding with deep breath and soft cries– the softest cries you had ever heard from a man in your existence. There is a small patch of hair in the center, that follows down his navel in a thin line. You tried to hold it together, but you loved it so much. You could love him, not like the novelty it was right now. Like, really love him.

If he could tell you he loved you without scaring you away, he would have. Now, he wished he just did.

Clumsily, almost enough for you to tell he was still new to this, whether the van or women in general, he thrust into you, chasing his own rhythm while still finding your own high. His wrists radiate heat where they brace him on either side of your head, caging you between them.

“Fuck– I– I,” he begins, looking for his thoughts.

You look up at him through low, sultry eyes. Your own release nearing in moments. “Together.” was what you could manage.

He cringed looking back, he probably looked like such a virgin. He had been so previously wound with the Pam Anderson wanna-be and the post-show adrenaline that his release was feigning. He took comfort in knowing that you would later find out that he is not that inexperienced.

It was the after that he remembered. How your little manicured finger traced over the raised ink of the tattoo, now disfigured by the purple fibers of scarring.

“They’re from the accident.” He explained to you, knowing you were wondering. Everyone wondered. You had been too afraid to ask.

“The earthquake?” You specified, looking up at him.

You watched the way his stomach flexed as he pushed himself up, taking your body with him, “Yeah, sorry they’re not pretty.” He sighed, holding out his arms to look at the ones there.

“You are pretty.” You reiterated, and he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“You’re prettier.”

“You wanna see mine?”

“Your what?”

“Scars.”

You were going to show him anyway.

That patch where the hair grew wonky across your eyebrow from where you had fallen as a child. You cracked your eye socket and they had to reconstruct the tendons in your eyelid. 27 stitches including the internal ones. He laughed at how you claimed it like a trophy.

The small white line on the side of your knee you got trying to pet a feral cat. You wanted to be it’s friend so bad and it didn’t return the sentiment.

The blown out tattoo on your ankle, done by your friend who worked at the cafe with you. It was the second one she had ever done on another living person. Your mom had flipped when you came home from college that first weekend with it. If you weren’t too old to ground, she would have done it.

Your stretch marks, in which you didn’t dwell too much on. They started happening the summer you turned thirteen and you remembered the palsy of lotions and topical ointments your mom made you smear over the expanse of your body in order to reverse them when you we’re too young to recognize that there were nothing wrong with them. The scars they left on your psyche.

The ones on your hands and knuckles, burns from your barista days. He remembered your giggle as he pressed soft kisses to every burn scar.

Eddie was not bad.

Eddie isn’t in college, but, for you, he’d at least brave the college housing.

This was also not Robin’s plan, instead devised by Steve while he was crossed— and at his most authentic self. Despite her best efforts, they persisted. You roomed in a smaller house with several other girls in Indianapolis— a three hour drive as the crow flies. All in their girlish forms, all soft skin and little shorts and effortless beauty. Sometimes you wondered if you looked the same way- or if they even knew what they looked like.

All of whom were gathered out the window, ogling at a relic unknown to you.

A familiar face, the hometown heartbreaker, Steve Harrington himself stood in your freshly mowed grass, boombox held over his head like an idiot. Slovenly waving at the girls through the window. You sighed, palming your face tiredly. You knew who he would have in tow. He is a shadow of either Eddie’s best self of his worst self, you couldn’t tell which quite yet. You are awed by his strict refusal to acknowledge any goal higher than the pursuit of his own pleasure, haphazardly balancing the expensive boombox blasting Head Over Heels on a loud, obnoxious loop. You wouldn’t have been more annoyed if Roland Orzabal was here playing the song himself. Robin stood at the entrance of the small white picket fence, face in hands.

When you meet with the man that has not quite et. cetere’d you, you are slumming the door open, visiting your own 7:00 A.M Lower East Side with your soul on a lark. He is stepping nimbly around gardenia pots and little happy concrete garden gnomes as if they will bite his ankles if he gets too close– if only you’d trained them sooner. More un-nimbly, he trips up the stairs, and you’ve caught him red handed. He stands there wide-eyed and apologetic, a dog kicked. You lean against the frame, nonchalant, unimpressed, arms crossed.

“Ew. You like Tears for Fears?” You speak before he can. He seems taken aback.

“I should have played The Cure.” He speaks truthfully, rubbing the skin on the back of his neck where an itch did not occur.

“That was my second choice!” Steve called from the one-man show happening on your lawn. You feared if it went on for longer, it would turn to a strip-club.

“Shut up, Steve.” Eddie barked towards him.

The tension feels like being at the bottom of a swimming pool. Eddie’s drowning in the deep end but the bowl’s empty. He drained it himself. He doesn’t know quite what to say to you. He didn’t think it would get this far.

“Come on, please just hear me out–” He starts, yet it’s overused. You decided then to drown him in the pool yourself. The door closes in his face.

Almost immediately, the knocking persists. Your roommates watch from beside the door, half still fixated on Steve, the others watching you ascend the stairs towards your bedroom. You choked down your embarrassment, suffocated in it. You needed to be alone.

“Ladies.” Steve nods from the front lawn, watching his friend scale the old lattice attached to the stucco on the front of your house.

“Ladies.” Robin parrots, coming to watch with a hand shielding her eyes from the sun.

There is a commotion down the stairs, a door opening and footsteps quick. You don’t get the chance to look because there is a body, an apparition of scarecrow limbs and embarrassment parallel with your second-story window. You might be mad, but you definitely aren’t heartless.

This isn’t what he expected your room to look like. In his wet dreams, he pictured more pink. More coquette lace abundance and stuffed animals. Save for the raggedy menstrual bean-bag bear, it’s relatively neutral. In hindsight, every girl’s room is pink coquette in a wet dream. This felt more like you, the twinkle lights, stacks of old books holding plants, moroccan-patterned pillows lining the daybed. Plush, white bedding. It’s natural, like you.

Your glare is like a mother’s reproach. He doesn’t know how to react. He didn’t have a mother. Only Wayne and only teachers, the latter of which he had a certain amount of push before they let him do whatever he wanted. You, he could not push further.

“Please don’t kick me out,” He begs, hands together like a prayer. It’s cheesy, you avoid laughing.

“I’m waiting.” You say. It’s rude. You sound like a bitch. He thinks you’re warranted. You try not to think of the ears against your bedroom door.

“I love you.” He said it like a plea instead of a declaration. It was the first and only thing that came to his mind.

Of course he did.

You rolled your eyes at him, folding your arms and jutting your hip, “You don’t love me.” You corrected, “You just think you do now that you’re lonely.”

He takes a few more pacing steps towards you, frantic and panicking “Jesus Christ– Yes, I do. I could’ve slipped and broke my neck trying to climb up here for you.”

“Well, I didn’t tell you to climb up here,” You placed your hand over your chest, then turned your finger towards him, “You don’t love me, you love this version of me that thought Tears for Fears would work.”

He stared at you with wide eyes, pleading and sad.

“ —For once in your life think, idiot. What song would I have really liked?”

“I– I don’t know.” He said. It came out like a whimper. He was more broken now, softer, yet still desperate.

“Exactly. You don’t love me.”

“You know what? You’re right.” He stood, closing the gap between your bodies in a few strides. He wanted to touch you, but was too afraid to ask, “I don’t love you.“

“I hate all of your stupid questions.” He started, and you didn’t speak, “I hate how all of my clientele comes from you now. I hate that I only get you when you’re home for the weekend. I hate that stupid little scar on your eyebrow. I hate the way your hair gets in your mouth when you laugh. I hate that dumb little scar on your forehead. I hate that you’re so goddamn perfect for me and I hate myself for letting you walk away like that.” He finished, breath heaving.

You felt the tears pull at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t warrant them to spill.

“I hate that you’re a grown man with fucking bangs.” You said, unable to finish. You felt stupid, two stupid little tears slipping from your eyes and streaking down your face.

He opened his arms to you, prompting, and you took it. Part of it so he couldn’t see you crying, the second part of you desperately needing to feel him.

“I’m so mean.” You wailed into his chest. You felt the rumble of the laugh he couldn’t suppress.

“I know, so mean.” He said, not as an insult or an agreement, but in endearment. He pressed a sympathy kiss to your crown. His hand was warm as it pulled up the expanse of your back.

“I’m sorry.” You pulled away, wiping your face furiously with the heels of your palms.

“No- no. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to get caught up in my hot and cold like that.”

Your feverance prevails, “I should have asked what happened.”

“I should have asked you out.” He counteracts, pulling back to smooth down the wiry hairs at your crown, his hand heavy against your skull.

“Can you do it now?” You plead, and he laughs.

“Will you stop crying?”

“Yeah.”

He pulls away from you for a second, you want to whine at the loss of contact. He crouches down on one knee, keeping your hands squeezed tightly in his calloused palms.

“Then will you do me the tremendous honor of being my girl?” He runs his hand up the back of yours, trying to feel for an electric pulse of an answer. The seconds that you take nearly kill him.

You stare down at him, eyes still red and puffy, but wide, “And not just like at parties?”

“No, like the full weekday thing.” His smile is warm. You take great comfort in it.

“Yeah.”

You think you look stupid, crying in your bedroom while he holds you like this. But he burns this memory in his mind. Even when you’re crying, you’re still the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

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