#and I wasted one day doing the stained glass thing :')

[obviouslypancakes]

27 seconds down in about 6 days, only 48 more to go! (sorry for the slight strobe there at the end, those inbetweens I still have to draw)

[lymtw]

Thinking of Toji coming home to you after a rough day at work.

On a normal day he would call out to you the second he steps through the front door, but today he's not in the mood to be loud. He silently walks through the living room, into the hallway where he directs himself towards the bedroom, where he knows you are. He's dirty and sweaty and there's somebody's blood drying on the fabric of his shirt. Luckily, it's just a small area. You won't spot it on your own, and Toji won't be showing it off to you.

The door creaks open and you're there, lying on your stomach, in bed. You're distracted by your phone, too zoned into your own serene little world to notice that Toji was home. He can smell your shampoo and the lotion you used, in the air, the smell getting stronger as he makes his way towards the bed. His stealthiness is a threat, never to you, but the fact that you didn't turn around once really had him thinking about your safety.

He didn't waste another second just looming over you. Slowly, he crawled onto the bed and before you managed to shriek or say something about how he scared the crap out of you, he laid right on top of you, crushing you and revoking your ability to make any sounds but groans under his weight.

"Toji?" you call, once you get accustomed to the pressure your bear of a man added onto you. He doesn't respond, and instead buries his face into the crook of your neck, getting a deeper whiff of the scent that emanated off of you. "Toji?" You try again, turning your head slightly.

"You smell pretty. Could smell you the second I walked in the room," he hums, inhaling your clean scent.

"Yeah, I just showered. Don't you wanna go get cleaned up, too? Dinner's ready."

"Of course I do. Thanks, doll. Just let me have you like this for a sec."

You had no argument for that. You laid there, flat on the bed beneath him, and allowed him all the time necessary to relax. He was quiet, and his hold on you was a little tighter than usual. That wasn't what brought you to your conclusion, but it was clear that he wasn't his usual self.

Something about being able to wrap himself around your entire body was comforting to Toji. It made him feel like he was keeping you safe, like he was the soft blanket you cover yourself with at night, rather than a man who comes home with blood stains on his clothes.

You were the one thing he was positive he would come home to, and that was enough. You were more than enough for him. He always felt there was no way to pay back for every day you spent accepting him as he is. All those nights when you let him hold you, even after he made you cry. Those mornings when you woke up with a heavy heart, alone, only to find out through a text message that he had to leave for work early.

Undeserving was a small word to Toji. It was you still finding it in yourself to give him the warmest of welcomes every day—a greeting normally dedicated to heroes, that made him obsess over finding a word that was more fitting for him.

He loves you and he's serious about it. He knows the infinite range of his love for you and regardless of how small his heart seems compared to yours, you decorate every inch of space within it, and when it reaches its maximum capacity, you go to his head. The space is littered with images of you, like posters on a wall. The space is so crowded that some of them are hanging on to the walls of his mind for dear life. There are images of your guilty smile after you knock a glass of water over and it shatters, another of the look on your face as you try not to laugh when he tries on a shirt that clearly isn't his size, and memories of the times when you would pamper him when he wasn't feeling well, insisting on still sleeping next to him, incase he needs something in the middle of the night.

It all adds up to this clingy behavior he reserves for you. When the day treats him like trash being kicked around by everyone on a sidewalk, he comes home to appreciate the one who embraces him and unconditionally loves him.

He knows his weight on your back must be unbearable and he definitely doesn't smell as good as you, either, but he can't move. Not yet.

"I could stay like this forever, doll. Would you let me?" He smiles for the first time in a bit when he sees your shoulders shaking, paired with the sweet sound of your laugh.

"Of course, baby. I'd willingly stay like this for you."

And he groans. It's like a form of cuteness aggression, but it derives from the fact that he can't believe that you're with him, and that you're so saintly, and he can't for the life of him stop thinking of you. He kisses your jaw and strongly resists the urge to bite your cheek and squeeze you until you can't breathe at all.

His breathing quickens a little when he thinks of how detrimental it would be to his life if you walked away for good, one day. Things are so good, but he can't help but think that the next time they aren't, it'll be an enormous hit to everything he has with you. Maybe you're waiting for the next argument to drop everything. Maybe you secretly can't stand him. Maybe you don't need him. Maybe-

His overthinking is cut off by a low growl, followed by a nervous giggle that is muffled by the pillow you buried your face in.

"Sorry," you lift your head to say, fighting the laughter bubbling in your throat.

"You're hungry." There's a barely there crease between his brows. It's late and your stomach is growling. He doesn't want to think about you skipping meals.

"I wanted to wait for you," you chirp, turning your head the slightest bit to give him a beaming smile.

"Baby." The second he sees the corners of your lips begin to straighten out, he stifles the scolding he was about to hit you with. "I can't even be mad at you. Have you eaten anything at all today?"

Your silence was all he needed to understand that you were running on fumes. He sighs, mentally cursing you for being so careless with yourself for his sake.

"I'm gonna shower, and you're gonna meet me in the kitchen in ten minutes. Will you survive that long? I don't know, but you have to." He kisses your temple a couple times, rolling off of you and directing himself to his clothing drawers.

Your lungs expand and you feel so much lighter without his weight on you. You flip over onto your back, stretching for a moment before you turn over to watch Toji rummage through his drawers. His sixth sense kicks in and he can feel your gaze on the back of his head.

"I love you, doll." He stands still, waiting seconds too long for your response. He turns his head to the side, facing the blank wall of the room. His ear is turned in your direction as to not miss the sound of your voice.

You sit up, prepared to say it back with every fiber of your being. You can see his fingers tapping against the top of the dresser. You don't mean to bring unease to his mind, your intention is to do the exact opposite. "I love you so, sooo much, Toji."

He lets the clothes he picked out plop onto the dresser, and he turns around to head back to you. He holds your gaze until he reaches you. It's the first good look you've gotten at him since he got home. You can't help but smile at the familiar sight of those green eyes and that pretty nose, and those scarred lips. He never failed to make you swoon, even during times when there was a lack of words.

His hands cupped your jaw before he leaned down to kiss you. The duration of his kisses weren't thought out, let alone planned. What was supposed to be ten minutes until you met him in the kitchen, turned into double the amount of time, because he wouldn't let you go. You were just as guilty for the delay, feeling so much ease and comfort with the words he imbedded into his kisses. Eventually you started telling him to go, between kisses and laughter, reminding him that you would be there when he got out. He ignored you until your stomach growled again.

"Fine," he grumbled, placing one more peck on your lips before he left you alone.

[satorusugurugurl]

would you able to do smth that’s pure full angst??? like angst that doesn’t lead up to smut, love your work btw!!

Choose

Summary: Gojo is forced the choose between his two best friends, Geto or you.

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru AFAB!Reader (slightly implied??)

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, violence, torture, blood, physical abuse, pain, character death

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: y’all wanted angst, I deliver 🙂‍↕️ enjoy your meal! Thanks @sugurubabe for your help!

The room was musky, thick was the humidity that had sweat heading against your forehead as you lay on the floor wheezing painfully before another blow hit your stomach hand. You curl into a fetal position, crying out in excruciating pain as boots crunched against broken glass that littered the floor. This wasn't how the mission was supposed to go; it was supposed to be easy!

A curse, a grade-two curse! Something both you and Suguru should have been able to handle! But it seemed as though there was no curse, none whatsoever.

What you and Suguru found waiting for you was a curse user and an assistant supervisor who had betrayed you all. Everything had happened so fast. The woman led you down a hall, revealing this supposed curse. You were in front of Suguru, listening to details and trying to sense the nonexistent cursed energy when a heavy thud sounded from behind you.

Nothing could have prepared you to see Geto on the ground out cold. The sight left you frozen in shock as your eyes darted back to the assistant supervisor holding a plank of wood stained with a bit of blood. You tried to act fast, reaching into your uniform to throw a talisman paper at the traitor, but the world went black for you. Someone hit you from behind.

When you came to, Suguru was still out, and the hats when the curse user began his shitty interrogation. He asked over and over again where Gojo was, and every time, you had a smart-ass remark. Which ended up with you getting the shit kicked out of you.

“I’ll ask you again.” The curse user barked out, crouching down next to your face. “Where is Gojo Satoru?”

Holding onto your stomach, you smirked, slowly lifting your head to look at your captor. “Your mom’s house.” Instead of a kick, the bastard backhanded you, making you wince before you cupped the side of your face, trying to hide the pain that you felt throbbing in your cheek.

“I don't like wasting time, and I don't like little liars.”

“Yeah, and I don't like assholes who beat up a couple of teenagers!” You yelled back, ignoring the iron taste that flooded your mouth.

“This is going nowhere; I thought you said the three were inseparable.”

That was true; Before the three of you were sort of a thing, going on dates, making out, sleeping together in the same bed. And that’s how it had been true until last year after the Star Plasma Vessel was killed. Ever since that fateful day, things have changed between you, mostly Gojo, but you could tell Geto was also starting to pull away too. He wasn't sleeping well, refusing to come to your room, go on dates, and you were both getting sent on more solo missions. You were honestly surprised you and Geto had been assigned this mission together, but even the two of them were slipping apart it seemed.

You’d been excited, looking forward to working together with one of your boyfriends? (Maybe you guys weren’t official yet), and had been planning to go on a soba noodles date afterward. Things were supposed to have gone differently today. What you imagined as a pleasant time with one of your best friends had turned into a literal nightmare.

You shot a glance in Geto’s direction. He was still out cold, but from the movement behind his eyes, you were hoping he was going to come soon enough. If you worked together, you might get out of this without further injuries. Until then, you just needed to continue to buy some time, and you could accomplish that by being extra annoying. You did learn from Gojo firsthand.

“T-They are—I thought they’d be assigned this together.”

“Well, he ain't here, is he?!”

“Yeah, sorry,” you spit your blood-laced saliva on the ground, “the band split up!”

“Oh did it?” The curse user asked, cocking a brow down at you.

“Yep! So I wouldn't count on him showing up anytime soon.”

That should have been enough to deter them from following through with whatever plan they had. But your words made your captor smirk. He said nothing as he reached into his pocket, tossing your phone to the traitor, before he moved fast, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking you to your feet.

“Why don't we get the band back together then?” You tried out in pain as he slammed you back down against the floor, lifting your head an inch as he crouched behind you. “Take a picture of her and Geto, and send it to Gojo along with the address.”

The flash was both blinding and suffocating as you struggled to free yourself. This wasn't good; you knew if Gojo were to see it, he'd come running. You were his best friends, and even thought he's been busy with training and all the missions he had been sent on, you knew he still cared for the two of you. And when he showed up, he would fall right into the hands of these monsters who were worse than the curses you constantly took out.

With the second flash that flooded the abandoned hospital room that was only illuminated by the light of twilight, you felt panic swell in your chest. You thrashed and screamed against the man still holding you down on the ground, watching in horror as they texted Satoru from your phone. This wasn't happening; it wasn't real; this was a terrible nightmare that was going to end soon, right?!

“There, done.”

“No!” You screamed, kicking your legs out underneath you. “No! You bastards!” Tears welled in your eyes as you focused on Suguru, grimacing near you. “Suguru! Suguru, wake up!”

“You’re too loud!” The curse-user shouted, kicking you in the stomach a second time, followed by a third, before he kicked you in the ribs.

The impact of that fourth hit had you dry-heaving and sobbing from the pain. You collapsed on the ground, vision blurring for a minute before a crashing sound from down below caught your attention. You wheezed painfully, trying to pull yourself up. You had to tell Satoru to run, that it was a trap, but you couldn't speak. Every breath you took was like stabbing to your stomach, to your lungs; everything hurt.

“Suguru?! Sweetheart?!” Satoru yelled, bounding up the stairs towards you. While you might not be able to speak, you used all of your strength to crawl, inching towards the doorway. Maybe your actions would prevent him from stepping closer. “Where are they, you bastard?”

“T-Tor—Toru—” you gasp out, crawling closer to the door to have the assistant supervisor kick you in the stomach this time. “Agghh!!” You screamed out, and you could hear the footsteps running closer to the door.

You didn’t want him to come inside, to be the reason he fell for a trap. But your prayers and wishes didn’t come true. The door flew open, and your best friend stood in the doorway, his blue eyes taking in the scene in front of him. He met Suguru first, watching as his best friend blinked a few times as he started to regain some form of consciousness. Then, pretty cerulean eyes found you. You could see the rage burning within the irises.

“Ah, the infamous Gojo Satoru, finally we meet.” The curse user unsheathed a katana from his side, licking his lips. “. you sure do know how to piss off a lot of people. And a lot of these people want to hurt you in so many ways. I was hired to deal with that pain for them.” The Curse user said in a condescending tone. “They want you to suffer, and they want to hurt bad. So prepare yourself; it’s not going to be pretty.”

“S-Satoru—run,” you whined, trying to lift yourself.

Your friend threw his head back and laughed out loud. “I don't no dumb ass hired you to ‘hurt’ me, but I’ve been living under a rock for the last year. I’m stronger than I was before, and nobody will kill me. So my friends go, and I’ll deal with you.” You couldn’t help but grin even though the pain was excruciating; leave it to Satoru to have a snarky comeback.

“Oooh, I’m sorry, there seems to be a misunderstanding.” You blinked, watching as the traitor bitch dragged Suguru towards you, throwing him down next to you, leaving him groaning as he blinked hard, trying to come to his senses. “I didn’t say I was going to kill you. I said I would hurt you, and unlike my clients, I have to know you are untouchable. So if I’m not able to hurt you physically, I decided hurting you emotionally would be much better.”

“Huh?”

The katana slammed against the floor right between you and Suguru’s heads. “Choose.” The curse user said in a deep voice, leaving your eyes wide as you stared at your reflection in the blade.

Satoru froze up, eyes focusing on you and Suguru on the ground. “What?”

“Pick one, him or her.” You swallowed as Suguru's eyes widened in shock.

“I ain't picking one over the other!” Satoru snarled out, looking back at your captor, who was smirking.

“You aren’t going to pick?”

“Fuck no!”

The curse user hummed, twirling the katana around in a circle. The dying light menacingly reflected off the blade. You swallowed harder, looking into Suguru’s eyes as the katana twirled faster. This whole situation, everything about it, left you feeling sick to your stomach.

“Then I guess we’ll choose for you!” The curse user announced, picking the katana up out of the ground.

“You—”

“Nuh-uh!” The katana slanted into the ground, an inch away from your face, making you cry out and fear. “Come near us, use one of your special moves, and I’ll slice both their heads off right here. You might be the strongest, but I can assure you that I’m the fastest.”

Your stomach twisted in pain and fear as your breath fogged against the blade. This really couldn’t be happening right now. You choked on a sob, as the katana lifted out of the ground, allowing you to stare into Suguru's eyes. He swallowed, exhaling through his nose as he inched closer towards you. That subtle action to let you know that everything was going to be okay, that he was there by your side, only caused more tears to stream down your cheeks.

“It’s okay, everything’s gonna be okay,” Suguru whispered, his eyes darting towards Saroru, who was clenching and unclenching his fist in apparent concentration, his eyes roaming between the curse user, the traitor, and his two best friends. “Satoru will figure this out; we’ll be okay.”

“Shut the fuck up!” the katana slammed down again, cutting strands of Suguru’s bangs. “I don’t like repeating myself, Gojo. And I believe I ask you a question. Choose. Someone has to die today.”

Dark eyes glittered with amusement as Suguru looked up at the curse user. “You obviously don’t know my friend, he would nev—”

“Suguru.” Satoru blurted out. You slowly turned your head to look at the tufts of white hair that dropped as he clenched his fists harder.

“Satoru.” Suguru purred out, smiling. “What I can—”

“I choose to save Geto Suguru.”

Your stomach twisted in pain as you felt tears welling in your eyes as the curse user barked out a laugh, moving the katana so fast you didn't see it slicing Suguru’s bindings. Was your mind playing tricks on you? Did he re—really just pick Geto? Was he choosing to let you die?

You meant nothing to him?

Your stomach churned with nausea as the room started spinning. You felt like you couldn't breathe as Satoru refused to look at you. He did, and he picked Suguru over you.

Tears blurred your vision as you listened to Suguru cursing as he was quickly unbound. “Wow,” the man towering above you breathed out. It looks like you see where you stand.” Anger and betrayal hit you as you whirled to glare.

“Fuck you—nngh!” he kicks you in the stomach for a fifth time. And the impact made you see dark spots.

“You heard the man; it’s time to die.” he kicked you again, rolling you onto your back, where it was hard to breathe. “I hope you're watching Gojo Satoru; watch the hope and trust she had for you fade along with her life!”

The katana rose up, and you shut your eyes, waiting for the pain to hit. Instead of your cries of pain, the man above you screamed. When you forced your eyes to open, you watched as one of Geto's curses shot out, swallowing the man’s upper half in one bite, before swallowing the rest of him in another. Weakly you turned your head as the traitorous bitch was wrapped up in one of Suguru’s other curses.

Your beaten and bloodied best friend was panting as Satoru stared at him in shock. As if he couldn't believe he had stepped in. But his shock quickly dissolved into realization as his head turned towards you, and he moved, running towards you.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, reaching to lift you up. But as his hands inched towards you, you pulled away from him, tears running down your cheeks. “Sweetheart?”

“Don't touch me.” you wheezed, vision blurring as your stomach twisted in pain. “Don't you ever fucking touch me again, you son of a bitch.”

“Sweetie, I—”

“Don’t touch me!”

Satoru pulled his hand away as if your words badly burned him. “I-I—” You laughed out bitterly, turning your head, and it was a look Gojo would never forget.

Your eyes were dull, blurred with tears, but he could see the betrayal and hatred swirling within them even with their dull hue. You wheezed deeply, blood seeping out of the corner of your mouth as Geto rushed towards you on the phone, calling Yaga. But nothing mattered nothing but you right then and there.

“Sweetheart, I-I wouldn't have let them hurt you. I promise!”

“You chose Geto.” you spat out, a droplet of blood jotting Gojo’s infinity as you curled in on yourself. “You chose to keep him alive and let me die.”

“I wouldn't have let them!”

“Bullshit!”

The pain in your face was like a million needles to Gojo’s heart as Geto told Yaga about what had happened. “That’s enough right now, you two! Satoru, Yaga wants you to take her back to campus so Shoko can help.” Gojo could see the shame in Geto’s eyes as he hung up the phone. “Princess, Gojo’s going to teleport you to the school.”

“No,” you whispered with a shake of your head.

“Come on! I won't hurt you; let me help you!”

“Don't you fucking touch me! I'd rather die than let you touch me. And you shouldn't have an issue with that, seeing that you picked me to die.”

Satoru gritted his teeth with anger but backed off, giving Suguru a shrug as the other man sighed. “Whatever.” With a sigh of annoyance, Sugiri picked you up princess-style and started running out of the room, heading down the stairs to get you in the car while Satoru followed behind, staring at the ground in shock and disbelief.

He knew you were mad; anyone would have been angry. But he panicked; he had to make a choice; otherwise, he would have lost you both, and that was something he was never going to let happen. Maybe he yelled out Suguru’s name because he was closer to him. Or perhaps it was just out of reflex, but he meant it when he said he would save both of you. There would be no way he would let anything happen to you. Both of you were his best friends.

You were just angry now; it would take some time, and he would explain that to you when you calmed down. All you needed was a little bit of time and space. What was the saying? Time heals all wounds?

Yeah, that was it. He just needed to give you some time to process what happened and allow your wounds to heal.

“Huh?” Gojo asked as he stood in the morgue, staring at Shoko.

“I said there wasn't much we could do.”

His eyes trailed down to the body that lay on the metal slab between him and Shoko. Your face was lax, your eyes shut, and bruises were discoloring your pretty face. This was a joke; it was all a fucked up joke for what he had said, right? You were going to sit up and say ‘jokes on you’ or ‘I got you bitch’ right? But your skin was too ashen, your pulse wasn't racing in your throat, and he couldn't sense your cursed energy with his Six-Eyes.

You were gone.

“B-But I don't understand. W-What happened, she was—she was fine.”

“On the outside, maybe.” Shoko lit a cigarette, holding it between her teeth as she moved some of your hair from your face. “But she took several kicks to the stomach, it looked like, and the sheer force formed an abdominal hematoma that ruptured with that last kick. If she got here a bit sooner, then maybe, just maybe, we could have saved her.” Shoko frowned, pulling the white sheet back up to cover your face. “But there wasn't anything we could do.”

Satoru's hands started shaking as he smelt earthy musk and mint approaching his side. He swallowed hard, turning to find Suguru staring down at your body, an almost unreadable expression on his face. What was he supposed to say in a situation like this? One where they both lost their best friend?

“She stayed true to her word,” Suguru whispered as he turned, his white button-down shirt tucked into his pants, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “I’m going on a mission to the countryside and won't return for a while.”

Satoru turned, glaring as Suguru opened the door to the hall. “What the hell do you mean she stayed true to her word?!” Suguru paused before looking back at Gojo with dull, lifeless eyes that almost mirrored yours the last time you had looked at him. It was so eerily similar that Gojo took a step back.

“She would have rather died than have you touch her.” His eyes focused on your body before he met Satoru's teary eyes. “And she did just that, all because of your choice.”

With that, the door slammed shut, leaving Gojo standing in the morgue with the body of one of his best friends while his other went off on a mission alone. A mission that would lead to him massacring an entire village. Little did Gojo know his choice would cost him the lives of both his best friends.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

[chuunai]

Can we get Dazai, Chuya and Fyodor with scenario 19 and prompt 13? (drabbles)

hey did you know I LOVE Chuuya Nakahara?

✧˚ · . drunken confessions - dazai osamu, nakahara chuuya, fyodor dostoevsky

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff, SFW. also clingy insecure chuuya. fyodor also kinda takes advantage of you mentally/emotionally while drunk

Dazai Osamu

He somewhat planned it all out. The invitation sent to you to watch movies with him at his dorm, right next to yours. The drinks, too. Cheap cans of beer and sake that are lazily passed to you. The futon too that you two are situated on is more neat and tidy than usual with no forgotten crab legs or alcohol stains in sight. It’d be easier to confess if he had liquid courage, right? Dazai didn’t want to fuck it all up.

When he confesses this way, it’s because he can’t think of anything better. Dinner at a restaurant is nice and dandy, sure, but it’s not quite intimate enough. A letter doesn’t express the tone of how serious he is with his love for you. You’ve been with him since his days in the Mafia. You saw him at his worst, and so he wishes to give you the best.

So when you’re both slightly tipsy and giggly at the sights on the TV, he tugged at your clothes and brought you in closer, pretending to shiver and whine about the cold. Unsurprisingly, you had snuggled into him back—such an affectionate drunkard. What Dazai did next was probably purely driven by intoxication and the need to confess. Jokingly (not really), he asked if you could be with him every night to warm him up just like you did already with his heart.

Dazai nearly had a heart attack when you took so long to ultimately respond with a yes. He doesn’t waste time, already carefully maneuvering you on top of him as a pretty body pillow while he sleepily mumbled that he loved his pillow. Loves you. Sure, it was all planned out, but it worked. He’d keep you forever by his side.

Nakahara Chuuya

It’s such a total fucking accident. The whole thing was never intended to happen when Chuuya took you out for a drink after a successful mission. You were his subordinate—albeit a close one of his—and it’d be wrong to act on his feelings for you. Death is a common and accepted daily occurrence of the Port Mafia, and he doesn’t want to accidentally get you hurt or even killed because you were his partner. Even if it hurts, he doesn’t want to confess. For your safety.

Although two glasses of wine later and a guy hitting on you stirs jealousy in his mind, and the fact that you seem uncomfortable increases it by tenfold. He didn’t hesitate to walk over with a thin smile on his face, wrapping an arm around your waist and cooing in your ear that he missed his baby and if you could please dance with him—your fake boyfriend. That’s how he ended up dancing with you to the beat of the music. His eyes were glued to your lips, admiring the shape as he wished they’d cover his body in rouge lipstick.

But Chuuya Nakahara lost everyone he ever cared about. Kouyou was still here, but he doubted the world would let her stay by his side for long. The drunken urge to kiss you was pushed back by the logical side of his mind, screaming out the fact that he’d be a creep if he did that. And he didn’t want you to think he was a sleazy guy. You were his muse from afar, and he wouldn’t dare do anything to hurt you.

So instead the wine in his veins opts to merely drop his head onto your shoulder and hesitantly intertwine his fingers with you. Next? He mumbles in your neck that he loves you. Loves you to the point where he’d kill everyone in the world if they dared to cross you—his heart. All he wanted was your heart, your undying love. But at the end of the day, you’re too good for him. He’s not even human, after all.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

He wasn’t drunk whatsoever and capitalized on your inebriation. Fyodor was a smart man, able to read moves of his opponents and acquaintances alike. This included you, of course. He knew absolutely everything about his little mouse, from your family to your darkest secrets. It was no surprise that he discovered your deep admiration of him as well.

What was supposed to be a meeting between the two of you discussing the DoA’s plans, instead ended up into him gently coaxing you to sip at the wine he had given you. He didn’t drink himself—a man as great as himself would not taint his mind with such a poison—but merely watched as your cheeks flushed with the telltale sign of tipsiness. The scenario would’ve been baffling for any outsider. Two terrorists in a room that both have a crush on each other. How utterly perplexing and unsettling!

Once he was certain you were to be easily manipulated to whatever he wanted, he began asking more personal questions and other matters. Coyly asking if you needed to visit a doctor with how red your face was whenever you two spoke. Or when he began to poke fun at your habit of stammering when he’d appear behind you and give your head that small condescending tap. Poor, poor you who didn’t stand a chance. You were so easy to crack. The seed at the middle of it all was your confession and the way he invited you onto his lap and began stroking your hair like one might do with a beloved pet.

While he’s not entirely sure what love truly is other than the definition, Fyodor felt a deep sense of affection and responsibility for you. Nearly every ruler in history had a beloved at their side to witness the fruits of their goals, so naturally he should as well. It wasn’t like you’d leave either. He’d make sure of it and keep you with him forever until he decided to end it.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts, @xxcandlelightxx

[raitonsfw]

𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 (𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐) | 𝚔𝚊𝚖𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚘 ꨄ

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: When you come home with tears running down your face, Choso immediately fills an entire wine glass for you. You had gotten your period that day, on Valentine’s Day of all days, and there was no way he was going to want to do anything with you. But it was quite the opposite actually; the man was practically begging for you to engulf him as soon as you mentioned your predicament.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader, needy!choso, period sex, blood play/kink, begging, pleading, whimpering (oh my!), riding, sexual intercourse, creampie, hair pulling, grinding, breast play, reader rides choso with a wine glass in their hand, spilling of wine, pet names (baby), choso the blood manipulator alright (ideas for this man practically write themselves) 

a/n: happy valentine's day! wrote this on my period last month and am currently going through the motions again so lucky me! (tmi sowwy) enjoy and here's your 3rd valentine from me! 💌 wc: 2.7k. v-day m.list | m.list

now playing: the red means i love you by madds buckley

divider credit: @hitobaby & @firefly-graphics

“Y/N? Open up, please.” You heard Choso’s quiet rasp through the door and you felt even more tears slip from the corners of your eyes, threatening to ruin your makeup even more. The mascara had poured down your face and you tried your best to wipe it all off, but it had stained a bit and you didn’t care anymore; you just needed it off.

“No.” You managed out as normally as you possibly could but he could hear the broken huffs that came from you. He was confused to say the least, the glass of red liquid in his hand chilling his fingers as he waited for you to tell him what was wrong. You couldn’t offer him an answer though as you panicked throughout the confines of the bathroom, scrubbing off the cursed makeup your period ruined.

It wasn’t the best day be bleeding from your fucking cunt.

You had run past Choso the second you got home, much to his discontent as he welcomed you home with a small murmur before fading away as you disappeared into the bathroom. He had set up a wonderful Valentine’s night in for the both of you, the most expensive wine sitting in the middle of the dining table as you arrived and he took the opportunity to pour more wine into yours without a second thought; hell you might need the whole bottle. 

“I have a glass of wine for you.” He tried to convince you with that, but you didn’t budge from your spot in front of the mirror. You glanced towards the box of tampons that sat against the back of the shelf near the tub, frowning at it. You wished you could flush them down the toilet, but all that would offer you would be cotton waste and a clog with nearly a million girls threatening you from the shadows because those things were fucking expensive.

“Choso, I’m fine.” 

“Please open the door. I want to help you.” He started to knock on it, sending you into a frenzy as you hurried wiping your makeup off. You threw the makeup wipe in the trash; and what stared back at you was a mess and all you wanted to do was hide beneath the sheets and isolated from society for the five wretched days. You were able to get the mascara off, but some of it still smudged underneath your lashes as a reminder that the promised look for the date went awry because of your sobbing. Which brought you to another revelation, your boyfriend.

Choso wasn’t going to want to have sex with you tonight, not when you were bleeding rivers. You had gone over his reaction in your head a thousand times and every single one didn’t end up with a good outcome; especially since it was such a precious day to him, it felt like your worst nightmare had come true.

“Y/N.” 

You sighed heavily, unlocking the door with a quiet tilt and Choso immediately opened it when he heard the click of the lock. You didn’t get to look at him properly as you ran past him, but he had cleaned up considerably nice today; his blood mark cut neatly against the bridge of his nose and his hair, albeit still incredibly messy, sat up like pins in the ponytails he spored them into. The dark circles around his eyes were still prominent in the luminescent light of the bathroom and you felt for him, he must’ve waited for you for a while. 

Then again, he always looked tired to you. 

Choso held out your glass of wine to you, but then faltered a bit as he took a good look at you. Your eyes were rimmed red with blemished tears as you stared back at him, flicking back and forth from the red liquid in the glass and his puzzled face. Instead he sat the wine glass on the accented table next to the bathroom with a tiny exhale and came up behind you with strong arms. He folded them underneath yours, his fingers dancing over the crevices of your tummy and he pulled you close to him. Resting his chin against your shoulder, he rocked you softly with him to the sway of the music that played out in the living room. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” Choso whispered into your ear, pressing feathered kisses behind it and you shuddered at the action. “Do I have to kill someone for you?” 

“No, it’s nothing like that.” You gave him a tired laugh, placing your hands on his where they intertwined. His hair tickled the back of your neck as he started to kiss down it towards your shoulder and you tried to pull away. “Choso…”

“Yeah?” He hummed out, a bit muffled by your shoulder and his violet eyes glanced towards the mirror, towards yours and you suddenly felt so exposed as they filled with adoration. You couldn’t see his mouth, your shoulder covered it but you knew he was ready to plant kisses down your back and your waist if you let him– anywhere he could reach within a few minutes he would be worshipping. 

“You were looking forward to a night in, right?” You asked him, one of your hands coming up to pick at his hair sticking up from their confines in the hair tie. 

“Is that not happening now?” Choso straightened up a bit, his mouth pouting into a confused frown. He narrowed his eyes a bit, trying to figure out exactly what happened to you. Out of everything he thought of, he speculated you had a rough day at work and needed some love; which was easily done as he’d be right in between your thighs with his tongue lapping up your cunt, two calloused fingers stuffed within in no time.

“It might need to be changed a bit…” 

“Why’s that?” Now he was worried, his arms squeezing you closer to him, a whine etching his words as he rested his chin against your shoulder again. Choso didn’t know much about human emotions, especially women’s and he’d have to ask Yuji later what it meant when one tries to postpone a date night. He’d probably say that means they don’t like you, but that couldn’t be possible; he knew you liked him, otherwise you would’ve left him already. You wouldn’t have tolerated six months with him if you didn’t in some form or another ‘like’ him.

“I got my period earlier today.”

There was a pause and you felt as though you could hear a pin drop but then there was a bit of shuffling behind you and you observed Choso’s eyes to try and gauge his reaction. You swore you saw them darken, the vibrance of them tinting and he squinted at you slightly before resuming his kisses down your shoulder and you felt his hands trail up towards your chest. Your breasts were sore, swollen and when he lifted them up slightly with his palms, you let out a relieved sigh. They wandered over your peaked nipple, his fingers slicing over it and you felt the heat rush through your cheeks as he tweaked it slightly through your clothing. 

“Choso?” You watched him through the mirror and you saw the blush that had crept up on his face, you knew that flushed look– and the hardened outline of his cock pressing into your backside very well. 

“Fuck baby, that made me hard…” Choso muttered admittedly into your shirt with another whine, purposefully hiding his face so you wouldn’t tease his blush. The slightest thing would turn him on so you weren’t that surprised, though you didn’t quite expect it to be because of the crimson between your legs.

What were you so worried about? It’s Choso, the boy who would become flustered if you so much as kissed his hand while in public, who would nearly fall to his knees when you showed off the lingerie you bought whilst out shopping, who would pant at the sight of your arousal leaking out of you like a faucet; your hormones did you so dirty, letting you believe he wouldn’t get off on a little blood. 

After all, he was a blood manipulator and this was his speciality. 

“That made you hard?” You backed your hips into him slightly, earning a choked gasp from him. “You don’t mind me being on my period? If it bothers you, we can use a cond-”

“No, no condom. Don’t want that, want to feel you.” Choso blurted out and you knew you had him pegged, completely cornering him by the thought of pleasure. You bent over slightly and watched him through the mirror as his entire face turned red, his crotch pressing directly against yours now. 

“What about the blood?” You asked, genuinely concerned that he lost his mind as he started to not so subtly grind against your cunt with a roll of his hips. Choso knocked you slightly over against the edge of the sink, his hands grasping for your hips now, one trailing up your back to bend you further and the other steadying you so he could bury deeper into the warmth. His hand found your hair and you were sure he was going to yank it, but instead he tangled it into the strands and rubbed circles into your scalp like the good boy that he was.

“That’s exactly why I don’t want to use one.” The heat of your cunt made him dizzy and he couldn’t stop thinking about how fucking good it would feel to plunge into you, the blood making it so overbearingly wet that he might bust as soon as he’s bottomed out. God, he was this pussy drunk already? He had his chin tilted up now, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head and you watched with tenacious eyes. He wasn’t even buried in you yet and his tongue was nearly lolling out of his mouth at the thought of you squeezing around him senselessly with an extra lubrication drooling around his cock.

“I want to drink my wine though...” You whined out, perhaps a bit more innocently than you intended.

A short groan came out of him and that’s when his hand gripped at the tendrils of your hair, yanking it upwards with a harsh pull. His arm flexed as he pulled you up towards him, quieting huffs and pants escaping him as he continued grinding against you. Sometimes when he got like this, all hot and bothered and nearly on the verge of devouring you whole, he didn’t know his own strength and you yelped in pain, moresos shock. His lips hovered over the shell of your ear, his hips ceasing their movements and his chest rose and fell against your back.

“Drink it while you ride me then.” He whined into your ear in rushed syllables, his fingers digging into the crevices of your thighs. They crawled towards the front of your mound, dipping lowly into the soft covered flesh there, if only he could fucking reach his hand down your panties… but you hesitantly stopped him before his hands got dirty. “I need you now, right now. Please, Y/N?”

How could you possibly say no to his pleas? 

And there you were five minutes later, with your wine glass balancing delicately on the tips of your fingers as you sunk down onto him as he babbled out begs and whimpers. Your pussy fluttered against the intrusion of his cock and you let out a delicious moan, your head tipping back as he thrusted up inside you greedily. Choso nearly knocked you off of him, your wine almost spilling from the confines of the glass and you glared at him as you ceased his movements. “Cho– you almost made me spill my wine!” 

He faux pouted before continuing to bounce you harshly on his cock, his fingers digging into your flesh and you could barely hold the glass still against your lips; it drenched your breasts and his chest, staining you both a beautiful red. As Choso noticed the deep color, he instantly glanced down at where you two were connected, the blood slicking up his cock so nicely and at the base it glistened with it. He couldn’t fucking see straight at this point, your pussy clenched around him like a vice as he refused to let ride him fully; he was just so desperate. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry– c-can’t stop.” One of his arms came to wrap around you as he sat up on his elbow, his tongue lapping over the stickiness of your chest and he moaned out as he tasted the tartness of it against your skin. His palm laid flat against the middle of your back as he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, teasing lightly. As you looked down at him, you almost came from the sight. Choso’s eyes were closed and you could feel the incessant groans and grunts coming from his mouth, the vibrations surrounding your breast and his eyebrows were furrowed in pleasure with every harsh roll of your hips. 

Deep pleasure shot through your body, every single one of your nerves nearly setting on fire and clutched the wine glass in your hand but you knew you were going to eventually drop it if he kept fucking you like this. You couldn’t bring it to your lips, your mouth had fallen open in small pants and moans and you felt Choso take the glass from you. He quickly set it down on the end table, temporarily popping off of your nipple to do so and you used that to your advantage to pin him down onto the bed again. 

“Baby, baby, please.” He whimpered as you dragged yourself up his cock and slammed back down on it, his hands flying towards the pillow and clutching it. He buried his face into the crook of his arm, trying desperately to muffle the moans that poured out of him as his hips barely kept up with yours. “Please, fuck me, I’m so close–”

With every thrust a drowning squelch filled the room, nothing but your arousal mixing with your blood and his precum, submerged in the intoxicating feeling of what it was like fuck up into the wettest mixture ever; Choso felt the blood dripping down his thighs and the dip of his balls and it spurred him on even more, his orgasm flooding through him and threatening to spill out into you. 

“Baby, can I cum in you–? Can I, please? Fuck, I need to...” Choso whined, frenzied purple eyes peeking out from underneath his arm and you nodded quickly, your own orgasm piling up your spine and you felt him shudder beneath you. You watched in awe as his eyes squeezed shut and his face contorted as his hands found your hips again trying to still you against him. His mouth had dropped open in a pitchy moan and you swore you’ve never been more in love, but here you were watching your man fall apart within minutes because of how good your pussy felt whilst on your period and it made you numb with devotion.

Your orgasm met his a few seconds after, squeezing him tightly in place and you breathed through the ecstasy. Your hands were glued to his chest, convulsing through the pleasure that spread throughout your body and you felt his hands come to grasp at yours in a heated motion. Coming down from your high, you regrettably rolled your hips off of him, a heady groan coming from Choso and you noticed how fucking soaked his dick was with your fluids, your face reddening at the sight. 

You gasped as you also noticed the wine and blood stains splattered against the white sheets you two laid on. “Oh God, Choso…”

“We can get new sheets. Come here.” He breathed out, sitting up fully and leaning towards you needily. His hands pulled you back onto his lap and you squeaked, his dick resting against your thigh and you let him kiss you eagerly. He tasted of fruit, the wine that he laved at earlier, and pure adoration that spilled out of every nook of his curse. 

Yeah, you were an idiot to not believe Choso wouldn’t go nuts over this. He wasn’t going to let something so dreadfully normal, not to mention erotic, ruin his Valentine’s and especially not yours. 

You pulled a whine from him as you bit his bottom lip, earning the promised words you were especially dying to hear. “Round two, baby?”

taglist: @izakyun | @classyempathmongercloud | @rubyparsonx

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[binniebakery]

ʚ thinking about yeonjun as the cute barista who works at the cat cafe that just opened ʚ you and your friend stumble into this new cafe and its like!! finally!! something to do since you moved to this town!! you weren’t all about clubbing or partying so this was definitely a safe haven for you to hang out with friends. ʚ the atmosphere is fresh and vibrant. green plants are everywhere and soft jazz fills the air along with the smell of coffee beans and fresh pastries. not to mention the cats?? literally everywhere?? ʚ its all too cute and you feel as if you're in heaven as you sit lazily on the plush couch with a nice cup of your favorite drink ʚ maybe you are just in heaven because who is that cute guy with the thin round lenses cleaning the table across from you?? ʚ you feel your fingers grip you glass a tad bit tighter than needed. and your heart starts to flutter when he suddenly glances up your way ʚ its like some type of cheesy anime scene. the way you both look at each other and immediately turn away the second you realize you were staring at each other a little too long, cheeks flushed and you almost miss the small smile the cute worker gives you ʚ you bite the inside of your cheek as you wrack your brain for ideas on how to start a conversation because well... obviously you cant waste this one chance to talk to the most attractive guy you've ever seen.. </3 ʚ its almost as if the stars align when your friend gets up to use the restroom. leaving you to your thoughts ʚ a small orange cat jumps into your lap, pawing at your leg gently for attention. unfortunately the poor thing knocks over your drink in the process :((( ʚ and of course. its just your luck that the drink spills, scaring the poor creature away and leaving you with a stained outfit. ʚ fortunately for you. mr glasses witnesses the whole thing (because he totally hasn't been staring at you the entire time..) and immediately he jumps to action ʚ "oh no!! I'm so sorry, mango has a habit of being too friendly" he apologizes and immediately uses the rag he had already been using to wipe the table down. ʚ he's so handsome up close. cheek bones prominent as he lets out an apologetic smile. ʚ its your silence that has him awkwardly laughing as he hands you some napkins to clean off the remaining drink from your clothing ʚ "so.. is this your first time here? I've never seen you here before." ʚ right. you had a voice to use. ʚ you nod, "y- yeah um.. first time here with a friend! i- it's really nice!" you stutter out and the young man takes a seat next to you as he watches you pat down your lap. ʚ "well the cats seem to like you.. you should come here often. i didn't catch your name by the way?" he inquires. ʚ "y/n. and you?" "yeonjun." he points to his nametag and you want to smack yourself for not noticing it before. ʚ "well y/n. it's lovely to meet you. it's nice seeing new faces. especially good looking ones." he continues with a smile. ʚ you almost choke from his comment. a bit forward but it seemed so genuine coming from him. you freeze as you try to think of a proper response ʚ "oh! ah- thanks.. ! you.. you're face is... nice too." you trail off shyly. yeonjun lets out a soft laugh and you mentally kick yourself for once again being the most awkward person on the planet ʚ but also his laugh is gorgeous and you could listen to it all day so maybe your embarrassment was worth it. ʚ the timing couldn't have been worse when you see your friend walking back from the restroom. but before she could reach you both yeonjun leans close. ʚ "tell you what y/n. come back again when I'm working and you can get to know this nice face a little more." his voice is quiet and it barely reaches your ears. you feel the warmth of his breath and find yourself turning redder than ever. ʚ you look up at him as he stands from his seat. yeonjun waves as he walks off and you find yourself smiling awfully stupidly because how could you deny such an offer?

♡ Recipe Notes: this isn't proofread at all but i wanted to write something cute and simple <3 yeonjun has been on my mind lately fr. enjoy!

[seospicybin]

ACES HIGH.

Bangchan x reader x Hyunjin. (s)

Synopsis: On your birthday, you put your two boyfriends to a test to find out which one of them knows you better and as the celebration continues, they take their turn to put you on a test. (9,2k words)

Author's note: Happy STAY day! It's been an honor to serve the fandom :)

A flash goes off as you walk with two glasses of wine in your hands, you have to pause to adjust your eyes from the blinding light.

"Stop taking pictures for a moment!" You nag and continue walking to your destination which is the sofa of the hotel suite booked for your birthday.

Hyunjin grins as he puts the camera away, "can't help it," he says, taking one of the wine glasses from your hands.

"You look beautiful tonight," he compliments and stops you from sitting on the space next to him, gesturing you to sit on the space between his legs instead.

You obey and slowly rest your back against his chest, he doesn't wait to put an arm around you.

"Just tonight?" You ask, turning your head to the side to give him a side-eye.

He dramatically rolls his eyes at you, "you know what I mean," he says.

You sip your wine and shake your head, "no, I don't know what you mean," you joke.

Hyunjin doesn't let you turn your head back and put his hand around your neck, keeping your head still as he presses a kiss on your lips.

You smile as he pulls away from the kiss, "now I know what you mean," you say.

"Good!" He simply responds and sips his wine.

For every sip of his wine, he places a soft kiss on you, on your temple, your cheek, the skin behind your ear, on the column on your neck. His kisses are just as heart-fluttering as the sweet words whispered into your ear.

He tugs his thumb on the thin strap of your dress, "You look so beautiful in red."

You rest your head on his shoulder and turn your head to the side, "mmh?"

He glides his hand down your side, feeling the silky fabric of your dress then gently squeezes your waist, "I love this dress on you."

Hyunjin knows to sweep you off your feet, making you special, making you feel like the only girl in the world. You smile at him and take another sip of wine as if you're not intoxicated enough by his compliments.

He glides his hand up and traces the curve of your chest, "you're not wearing a bra?"

You respond with a low chuckle instead and drain the rest of the wine, putting the empty glass away.

Hyunjin grins as he rubs circles on your clothed breasts, going inward until his fingers successfully make out the nipple against the fabric.

You bite your lower lip, certain that your nipple is hardening under the clothing.

"What about down there?" He draws a sharp breath as he gently squeezes your clothed breast, "are you wearing underwear?"

You put your hand around his neck and look at him, "why don't you find out yourself?" You tease.

Nothing is stopping him from doing that, he's wasting no time to lower his hand down your body until his hand meets the hem of your dress, have a quick squeeze on the flesh of your thigh before slipping his hand under, ever so slowly.

You hold your breath as his hand inched closer to the thing between your legs and then the knocking comes on the door, halting him from going further.

Hyunjin groans and throws his head to the back.

Seeing his reaction, you feel bad that he's being interrupted. You turn on the sofa to face him to console him with a deep kiss.

You flash him a sweet smile as you let go, wiping the lipstick stain on his lips with your thumb, "be right back," you say.

The knocking comes again as you're walking to open the door, "Coming!" You shout, fixing your dress before unlocking the door.

Turning the knob, you swing open the door to find a bouquet of red roses. You take it to reveal the face behind it.

"Happy birthday!" Chan greets you as soon as his face comes into your sight.

You hold the bouquet close to your chest, "and you're late," you reply.

He comes at you and puts an arm around you to draw you close, "But I'm here now."

With him leaning in close, grinning with dimples sunken deep into his cheeks, you caved in almost immediately and let him kiss you.

He keeps his other hand steady as it's carrying a box of cake and Hyunjin takes it from him, taking his revenge by interrupting the kiss.

"Nice timing, hyung!" He says and takes the cake inside.

Chan pokes his inner cheek with his tongue, "Nice timing indeed!"

He presses another kiss on your lips before walking hand-in-hand inside the hotel suite.

The dinner you have ordered has gone a little cold from waiting for Chan to come but no one is complaining the whole dinner, guess they're just as hungry as you to even comment on it.

After dinner, Hyunjin hurriedly takes his camera as Chan sets the birthday cake in front of you and lights the little candles, casting a warm glow on your face.

"Don't forget to make a wish!" Chan reminds you as he sits back in his seat next to you.

You clasped your hands together and close your eyes, muttering wishes under your breath, manifesting it deep inside your heart.

The clicking sounds of Hyunjin taking photos non-stop can be heard while Chan serenading you with a birthday song, purposely singing it off-key just to annoy you.

When you blow the candles off, you send your wishes away to the universe and hope they'll become true.

You open your eyes at the same time they're clapping at you and Hyunjin just can't help himself from asking.

"Share your wishes with us," he says, taking a dollop of the icing cake with his index finger.

"Who knows we can grant some of them," he shoves his finger into his mouth and licks it clean.

Chan takes the camera from him to start taking pictures of you and Hyunjin together with the cake.

"That's true," he adds while looking through the camera and you put on a smile just in time he clicks the camera.

"You guys really want to know?"

Hyunjin takes the camera back from Chan to see the photos he took.

"Of course," Chan answers for both of them.

You pick a cherry from the cake and eat it, stalling from telling them your wishes. You want to make them wait in anticipation.

Chan dramatically rolls his eyes and you take it that you have drained his patience, "I want to see the two of you kissing today," you finally answer with a sly grin on your face.

Hyunjin scoffs then refills his glass with more wine while Chan reclines on his seat, taken aback by your wish.

"Not granted!" He hastily remarks.

The celebration continues in the living room. There's a sofa that could fit the three of you but you chose to sit on the carpeted floor, drinking wine while snacking on a board of charcuterie.

Hyunjin is the first to come up with a birthday present for you, a small box wrapped in silver wrapped and a white silk bow, "for you, beautiful," he says.

He scoots closer and puts a hand on your jaw to angle your head, landing a sweet kiss on your lips, "Happy birthday!"

You give him a quick peck on the lips as a token of gratitude, "thank you, Hyunjin!"

Excited to see what's inside but it's wrapped prettily that you deny the urge to rip it open. You slowly unwrap it, untying the bow first then unfold the wrapper, exposing the velvet box inside.

You glance at Hyunjin who's ready to capture the moment with his camera. You open the lid to see a piece of jewelry, a bracelet to be exact.

"This is so pretty..." you lowly gasp as you trail the shining metal with your fingertips.

You turn your head at him, "Put it on me, please?"

Chan is quick to take the camera so Hyunjin can put the bracelet on you, it's a thin silver chain with a plate with your initials on it.

"You like it?" He asks as he secured the bracelet around your wrist, then kisses it.

"I love it!" You don't wait to hug him and kiss him again for giving you such a pretty gift.

"It's my turn now," Chan takes over and hands Hyunjin the camera.

He gets up to get a paper bag from behind the sofa, pulls a big box out of it then brings it to you.

"For my princess," he says, putting the present right on your lap.

You cringe hearing that pet name but you secretly like it whenever Chan calls you that.

"Thank you, Channie!" You excitedly open the big black box with a matching ribbon. You do the same as you did to Hyunjin's gift, then rip through the thin paper to find a piece of clothing in black color.

"You can stop stealing my hoodies from now on," he says with a grin as he brings the wine glass close to his mouth to take a sip.

Without taking it out of the box, you feel the fabric of the black hoodie he gifted you, knowing that it must be brand new.

"You don't like it?" He asks, probably noticing that you're not looking as ecstatic as when you opened Hyunjin's gift.

You shake your head and smile, "I like it but what makes you think I'll stop stealing your hoodies?"

"Come here and give me a kiss!" He demands as he puts away his wine glass.

You crawl over to him and sweetly kiss him on the lips. With his hand on the nape of your neck, he pulls you again for a kiss when he knows you're about to let go.

"Okay, boys! Stop drinking and put all of your attention on me!" You announce, putting all the boxes and food away.

You take the camera from Hyunjin, carefully putting it on the corner of the sofa.

"What is it?" Chan asks in confusion.

You hold him by the shoulder and move him to sit in front of you, then do the same to Hyunjin which he complies right away without a word.

You sit with your legs folded under you and clap your hands together, "it's pop quiz time!"

Chan and Hyunjin exchange a glance, then at the same time, turn their heads to look at you in confusion.

"I need to know if you guys know me well," you concisely explain.

Chan snorts while reclining with his hand propped behind him, "oh, we know you well," he confidently remarks with a flirty wink.

You purse your mouth in doubt and nonchalantly shrug, "I'll not be so sure if I were you."

"You're going to test us? To see how well we know you?" Hyunjin asks, picking a grape from the charcuterie board.

As always, Hyunjin will easily go along with whatever you want to do but Chan? It takes a little more effort with him, he likes to make it hard for you, he's a fucking tease.

You crawl over to kiss him for a reward and to set an example for the other guy, "as expected from my golden boy," you mutter.

This is just the way to get Chan's attention: by raising his competitive spirit. It's not long until he gets intrigued and narrows his eyes at you, "what do we get?"

You sit back on your spot again and grab your purse from the sofa, taking out your red lipstick to apply a fresh coat on your lips, then smack your lips together to even it.

"A kiss from me."

With him not answering whether he wants to do it or not, you turn to Hyunjin, then say, "Hyunjin can have all the kisses if you don't want to play."

To taunt Chan more, Hyunjin pulls you onto his lap and makes faces at him as he puts his hands around you, holding you tight.

Chan grabs your ankle and gently pulls you away, "oh, come on," he groans, "I'm not saying I don't want to play."

You lean forward at him and ask, "What is my favorite color?"

"Blue," Chan answers without a beat.

You give him a kiss for answering it correctly and smirk at him as you pull away, "You get it right, you get a kiss."

You sit back then pat his head, "it's not that hard, right?" You tell him in a mocking tone.

Defeated, Chan does that thing where he pokes his inner cheek with his tongue and looks incredibly attractive doing it.

You have a quick sip of wine before starting the quiz, "Is everyone ready?"

Chan lies down on his side with a hand propped under his head, "Bring it on!'

While Hyunjin sits with his hands on the back and his long legs crossed at the ankle, replying to you at the same time, "Let's go!"

To be honest, the quiz is a spontaneous idea. You just thought of something to play with them and come unprepared. You refill your glass with more wine as you think of the first question

"First question: what's my favorite ice cream flavor?" You start with an easy question.

Quietly, you glance at Chan because he's the most likely to get the question right. You both went on an ice cream date a few times.

Chan glances at Hyunjin, giving him a chance but knowing that he's the only one who knows the right answer, he coyly answers, "Salted caramel."

You smile in satisfaction, "That's right!"

Chan wastes no time to come forward to collect his reward and closes his eyes as you lean in to kiss him.YOu can smell his alcohol-tinted breath as he puts his plump lips against yours and kisses you, all the while Hyunjin can only watch from the side.

Feeling mischievous, you abruptly stop kissing him and pull away fast, not giving him a chance to deepen the kiss.

"No tongue?" Chan asks in disbelief.

You nonchalantly shrug and simply answer, "Get it right on the next question and you'll get it."

Not letting Chan complain further, you move on to the next question since you already have one in your head, "what is my favorite flower?"

This time, you shot a glance at Hyunjin, knowing for certain that he'll get it right. At first, you weren't into flowers but then Hyunjin always insists on giving you one on special occasions to the point that you have a favorite flower.

"Roses...?" Chan drags the word because he's unsure of his answer.

"Nice try, Christopher!"

Hyunjin sits straight and confidently answers, "Peonies. Your favorite is the pink ones."

You lightly clap your hands together at him for getting the answer right.

Hyunjin slowly comes forward for his kiss and gently puts his hand on your jaw, softly gliding his plush lips that are incredibly soft.

You get cautious whenever you kiss him because it feels like you're kissing a flower.

Yet Hyunjin knows how to make you cave in, his slick tongue parts open your mouth to deepen the kiss and taste you more.

You're supposed to be the one rewarding him but now it feels like he's doing it to you. Before Chan complains about why Hyunjin gets a proper kiss than his, you gently push him away with your hand on his chest.

Hyunjin drags his mouth close to whisper in your ear with his hand still holding your face, "Sorry I didn't get you any flowers today."

You didn't even mean to remind him of it when the question just randomly popped into your head at the moment. You give his cheek a quick caress, "That's okay, baby."

Chan clears his throat, interrupting the sweet moment you and Hyunjin are having in private.

"Next question, please?" He pleads.

You drink your wine to stall as you think of another question but there's not one that you know they can't answer. Each one of them knows you well.

Running out of ideas, you ask, "Name three of my favorite things!"

Hyunjin's hand raises in no time and you point your hand at him to let him answer.

"Cats," he starts.

You put one finger down for every correct answer and nodded to his answer.

"Sunrise and..." he looks around as if the answer is written somewhere in the room, "Jelly?"

You applaud him again for another correct answer but before rewarding him with a kiss, you turn at Chan to give him a chance to answer, "It's your turn."

"Oh, I get to answer too?" Chan asks in confusion.

"Yes but you can't copy Hyunjin's answer," you tell him with a warning look.

He hoists himself up and back to a sitting position, puts his arm on his knee, "Cheeseburgers, sci-fi movies, and..."

"And...?" You repeat in anticipation.

"Me?" Chan points at himself and gleefully grins, making his dimples sunken deep in both cheeks.

You shake your head, not accepting his answer, "Hyunjin won this round!"

Crawling over to Hyunjin, Chan grabs you by the waist to stop you from kissing Hyunjin.

"Give me my kiss!" He demands.

"No! You didn't answer it right!" You persist.

Chan pulls you a little too hard, sending you both stumbling onto the floor but fortunately, you land on top of him with his arms wrapped around you.

"You should have used your chance wisely," you scold him and get up with help from Hyunjin.

Instead of taking his hand, you throw yourself at Hyunjin to give him his kiss, "make it good, okay?" You tell him with a sly smile.

Hyunjin understands the assignment. He dives right in, kissing you so hard you're having a hard time keeping up with him. A low moan escapes your mouth as he tugs at your lower lip and nibbles at it before planting his mouth on you again.

You gasp for air when he finally lets go and you didn't realize that you're sitting on his lap and his hands are all over you.

"Whoa!" You exclaim in awe.

Hyunjin seems to be satisfied with himself that he's grinning ear to ear, sneaking another kiss on your neck before letting you go.

"I didn't get my tongue yet," Chan grumbles.

"Give me another one!" He then starts fussing like a toddler, kicking his feet on the floor.

You grab the bottle of wine to refill your glass and have a big gulp. You sit on the sofa and drain the rest of the wine, guessing that it's time for the final question.

"One last question!" You announce while refilling your wine glass then puts the bottle away

Their ears perk up in excitement and put their attention back on you, preparing themselves for it. You stall by leisurely sipping your wine and slowly crossing your legs, making the dress rides up your thighs.

"What's the color of the underwear I'm wearing right now?" You ask.

It's a fair game since none of them know and have the same chance to win it. You stare at each one of them and give them the eyes as they try to wildly guess.

Chan sucks air through his teeth as the question puts him in a dilemma and as if the answer would determine what his life would turn out to be.

While Hyunjin is deeply thinking with his fingers touching his lips, he takes a pose that would pass for an ad in a fashion magazine.

Chan lets out a long groan until he settles with an answer, "I think... white?"

You tip your head to the side, then look at him, "Are you sure?"

He bites his fist and doubtfully answers, "Y-yeah."

"Okay then—"

"But it could be black," Chan adds.

You shake your head, "you can't change your answer!"

You shift your attention to Hyunjin who is still deep in his thoughts, "Hyunjin?"

Hyunjin seems to be not sure about his answer as well. With a sigh, he gives his answer, "Red?"

Emptying your wine glass, you lean forward after putting it away and prop your hand against your knee, "well..."

You look at Chan first and squint your eyes at him, sending him mixed signals then at Hyunjin, giving him a flirty wink.

"Well, since Hyunjin has the most score," you recline on the sofa, "you can do the honor to reveal the answer."

You don't have to look at Chan to know that Chan is not amused that Hyunjin gets to do it instead of him.

As sweet as he is, Hyunjin wouldn't pass the chance, he crawls over to you and kneels on the floor right in front of you.

Hyunjin is beautiful from every angle but he looks even more beautiful when you look down at his face and his eyes filled with fiery glints.

"Go ahead and find out," you softly tell him.

With that half smirk of his, Hyunjin places his hand on your knee and then uncrosses your legs. His big hand slips between your legs before he parts them open, slowly as if he's opening a precious gift.

Chan can only wait in anticipation and tries to have a look through Hyunjin's shoulder, tugging his thumb between his teeth.

Hyunjin slides his hands down your thighs until the hem of your dress is caught between his fingers. He looks up at you through his lashes and draws a sharp breath as he begins to lift the hem of the dress, little by little.

His heart pounding faster and faster the higher he lifts the dress, revealing more skin that he wants to touch so badly.

You hear his hitched breath the second his curiosity finally answered, seeing with his own eyes that nothing is covering that beautiful thing between your legs, so inviting and arousing, Hyunjin has to swallow air to calm himself down.

Hyunjin flashes you a wicked grin, "You're devious!" He mutters.

You triumphantly chuckle in response and shrug.

Admitting his loss, Hyunjin pulls your dress and sits back on the floor, his back against the sofa.

"So?" Chan asks in utter curiosity.

Hyunjin is too overwhelmed that he hurriedly pours himself a glass of wine.

"None of your answers are right," you reply as you sit back on the sofa.

"So nobody wins?"

"Nobody wins," you confirm.

Chan pouts and lay on his stomach, hands supporting his head, "nobody gets a prize?"

"Nobody gets a prize," you repeat.

He sighs again then a grin blooms on his face, "Since no one is winning..."

Chan glances at Hyunjin and it's not just a glance, you know he's up to no good.

"I think we can share the prize," he says.

Hyunjin turns around and plants his chin on your thigh, "I don't mind sharing."

Well, of course, they never mind sharing you for the past two years.

-

It's great the dynamic they have. How they move in sync without any words passed between them to give you the utmost pleasure.

Your lips are latched with Chan's as his hand touches your clothed body, slipping his hand under the dress. He smirks against your lips knowing that you're not wearing a bra underneath.

"Easy access, huh?" He mutters.

You respond with a low giggle and as he's about to kiss you again, Hyunjin sucks on your clit a little too hard, forcing a moan out of you.

You look down to see his head between your legs, sinking his mouth deep in your wetness. It reminds you to share your attention with him.

There's nothing Hyunjin likes more than compliments. Putting your hand in his silky locks, you gently tug at it and coo, "That mouth knows how to make me feel good!"

He opens his mouth wider to take more of you to show how eager he is at pleasing you.

"You're going to make me cum in your mouth, mmh?" you softly murmur.

Hyunjin takes that as something he wants to accomplish, he pulls away for a moment then stuck his tongue out, he makes you watch as he licks down your slit, then plants his mouth on you again.

"Oh, my—" your moan got stopped as Chan kisses you.

While his mouth is busy kissing you, Chan's fingers are playing with your nipples after successfully spilling your breasts out of your dress by pulling the straps down your shoulders.

He slumps down so he can plant his mouth on your chest, taking your breasts in his mouth in turn, leaving them wet with his saliva.

With all these stimulations going all at once, you wonder how you keep your senses intact. Your eyes are closed thinking that you're flying in the air, on the way to cloud nine.

Then all of a sudden, both of them stop moving and your eyes snap open to see Chan slyly grinning, kneeling on the floor next to Hyunjin.

"Why? What–what's wrong?" You stammer.

Hyunjin, with his mouth and chin glistening wet with your essence, simply says, "Keep your eyes on us!"

Confused, you gulp air to prepare yourself for what they have in mind, for what about they do to you.

Hyunjin places his hand on your thigh and Chan does the same on the other hand, both of them spreading your legs wider, exposing yourself to them.

Chan instantly licks his lips as if the sight of it makes him thirsty all of a sudden. He begins to place little kisses down your thigh and doesn't top until his full lips make contact with your drenched cunt.

"Oh!" You let out a stifled moan.

Wanting to keep the taste of you on his mouth, Hyunjin takes your hand and slowly puts your two fingers into his mouth, sucking at them while he patiently waits for his turn.

After a while, Chan lets go with a gasp as his mouth is coated with a sheen of your essence, and Hyunjin wastes no time to take his turn even though he's been at it way before Chan.

The moans you let out are getting louder and raspier, your body squirming, slouching down the sofa and if it weren't because they both hold your legs to keep you still, you would slide off your seat.

They tirelessly take their turns to put their mouths on your cunt, using their tongues and lips to mercilessly please you, sending you closer to your release.

Your dress is hunched around your stomach and your hands are kneading on your breasts with your head thrown back, overwhelmed in pleasure.

Losing track of who's taking their turn, you breathlessly mutter with eyes closed, "I'm close, I'm close."

The pleasure only is getting intense and your legs are shaking, you feel their nails dug into your flesh, kisses on your thighs, and tongue on your cunt.

Everything pushes you to the edge and the knot inside you tightens.

"I'm cumming..." you whine with your eyes screwed shut, accidentally clamping someone's head between your legs with a surge of pleasure washing over you.

It's when the pleasure starts to dissipate that you finally open your eyes, have Hyunjin greets you with a hungry kiss so that you can taste yourself on him.

A hand grabs you by the chin, turning your head to the other side, and hastily captures your lips in a fiery kiss. You're gasping for air the second Chan lets go, he places a quick peck on your lips, "Keep your eyes open, babe!"

Hate to admit it but you always find yourself submitting to his wishes without you intend to. Still catching your breath, you keep your mouth slightly parted, watching Hyunjin lean to the middle and Chan's hand reaches for his chin, slowly, they lean closer to each other until their lips meet.

At first, you thought it was going to be a quick peck but they keep going, brushing their lips against each other, making your birthday wish come true like good boyfriends they are.

Awestruck with what you're seeing right in front of you, you put your hands on the back of their heads and keep watching as their kiss deepens.

You're not going to lie, it's turning you on that you get wet all over again. You've fantasized about them kissing and were being playful when you told them about it being your birthday wish.

They're just so hot going at each other's faces that you start to feel left out.

"Okay, okay, stop it," you get in between them, stopping them from kissing.

"I'm getting jealous," you shamelessly admit as you put your arms around them.

Chan kisses your neck while Hyunjin places a kiss on your temple, "now that the two of you have made my wish come true," you say.

You rest your back against Chan as Hyunjin brushes the hair that is stuck to your face to the side and tucks it behind your ear.

"Yes?" Hyunjin asks.

You tip your head to the side to look at Chan, "It's my turn to return the favor."

-

The sight of your body will never cease to amaze him.

Chan has to take a deep breath to calm himself down as he watches you slowly shimmying yourself out of your dress until it pools your ankle. You step out of it, exposing your naked body as you take another step forward.

You stare at him and then at Hyunjin, at once, you drop to your knees right in front of them. First, your hand reaches for Hyunjin, slowly unbuckling his belt and pulling his slacks down his legs.

Doesn't want to waste time, Chan starts taking his shirt off while you're working open his jeans. He looks down into your eyes that are looking back at him, so alive and full of lust.

Slowly, you wrap your hand around his length and do the same with your other hand, wrapping it around Hyunjin's cock. At the same time, you begin to slowly stroke them at a slow, steady pace.

Chan cups the side of your head and mutters, "You're so greedy aren't you?" He teases, running his thumb over your lips.

It gets him excited about having his cock inside your mouth next but he has to be patient with Hyunjin takes the first turn.

Instead of being jealous, Chan finds it arousing to see you taking Hyunjin's cock into your mouth and sees your lips wrapped around his shaft so prettily.

You're taking him well for a moment before pulling out with a gasp, leaving his cock wet and easier for you to pump your hand up and down his cock.

Chan swallows air knowing that it's his turn next. You face him and lick your slips as you put his tip into your mouth. A low moan escapes his mouth as your tongue teases the tip before taking more of him into your mouth while keep pumping Hyunjin's cock with your hand.

"Feels so good around me," Chan mutters under his breath.

As you keep kneeling on the floor, taking his and Hyunjin's cock in your mouth, trying to please both at the same time.

He and Hyunjin keep muttering praises at you, hands giving you gentle pats or caresses on your face.

"Yeah, just like that..."

"You're taking us really well."

"Such a good girl for us!"

"You're doing so well, angel!"

Never has he dared to imagine something like this, Chan has fantasies, yes, but not this, seeing you trying to please them at the same time, oh, this will be one that he remembers for life.

As he gets close to his release and sees you getting tired from keeping both of them pleased, Chan takes over by letting your hand go to replace it with his hand, keeping the stimulation going.

Hyunjin followed suit, letting your hand go to use his hand and you drop both hands, placing them on your thighs.

You scoot forward on the floor and tilt your head upward to look at them, you say, "cum on me, please?"

No one is touching you but something about seeing him and Hyunjin pumping their cocks and getting close to cumming is what makes you lowly moaning.

Chan loves how you offer your body for them to cum on, your eyes closed and your head drops to the back. His hand unconsciously added speed to his pumping, getting close to his high.

Hyunjin gets ahead of him, shooting his load onto your chest and you gasp as more dripping onto your breasts.

With his ragged breath, Chan keeps going until he too, reaches his high, adding more streaks on your body with his pearly white cum, hot on your skin.

A drop falls onto your chin and Chan hurriedly reaches for it, wipes it off with his thumb. You stop him from retracting his hand and shove his thumb into your mouth, licking it clean for him.

He slowly pulls his thumb out of you as you blissfully smile at him.

"Good?" He asks you.

You put his hand on the side of your face, "so good."

-

Hyunjin gets full just from seeing every spoonful of cake go into your mouth while sitting on the sofa with your legs on his lap and dressed in a bathrobe.

You're eating it so deliciously it makes him crave it, "give me a bite!"

You dig your fork into the cake and feed it to him which he eagerly eats. He believes what makes it tastes good it's because you eat it from your hand.

You gasp seeing how much you've eaten, "Did I really eat half of the cake myself?" You ask with eyes widened.

Hyunjin softly laughs and refills your wine glass, knowing that you must be thirsty from eating non-stop.

"You should have stopped me, Hyunjin," you grumble, putting both the cake and the fork away to take the wine glass from him.

"You eat it so well. Why should I stop you?" He simply answers. He then grabs a few tissues for your messy hands and wipes them for you.

"Do I have something on my face too?" You cluelessly wipe around your mouth.

"Yes."

"Where?"

Feeling playful, he secretly takes a dollop of cream with his fingers and put them on your lips, "right there!"

You chuckle instead of scolding him, "Clean it for me then."

He licks his fingers first before putting his hand around your neck, angling your head slightly to the side to kiss you. Using his tongue to clean the cream on your lips in small, kitten licks and kisses you whole while hoisting your body to sit you on his lap.

"You taste so sweet," he murmurs against your lips.

You lowly giggle as your loop your hands around his neck, "It's the icing cream."

His teeth faintly bite on your lip, "No, it's you."

He likes when you giggle. He likes it more when he knows he caused those giggles.

He angles your head slightly to the back so he can deepen the kiss, invading your mouth with his slick, hot tongue. Hyunjin lets go when he knows you're running out of breath and sees you smile with your eyes closed.

You nuzzle your head in his neck and mumbles, "Take me to bed."

Your wish is a command to him so Hyunjin puts his arms under you and uses all of his strength to get him up from the sofa while carrying you in his arms.

Thankfully, the trip to the bedroom is short and he can take you there safely, lying you down on the bed. You take your bathrobe off before getting under the duvet, tossing it onto the floor.

Seeing him climbing into the bed still dressed in his bathrobe, you part it open for him and let it drops onto the floor.

He cuddles you by putting his hands around your naked body, feeling your smooth skin under his fingertips that makes him lowly whimper into your ear.

Turning around to face him, you trace the outline of his muscles on his stomach with your hands, sliding them down to his abdomen to land fluttering touches that make him ticklish.

To stop you, he takes both of your hands and puts them around him. He places ferocious little kisses on the side of your face until his lips eventually land on your lips, pecking at it non-stop that you have to stop him.

"So... how's your birthday so far?" He asks.

You answer him with eyes closed, "I love it."

He tenderly places a long kiss on your forehead while squeezing your body tightly.

You whine in complaint and look up at him, "Wait, what do you mean by so far?"

Chan enters the room at the right time, returning from the bathroom with a towel hanging low around his hips.

"The birthday celebration is not over yet," he answers for both of them.

You turn on the bed to lay on your side, "you have more gifts for me?" You ask with a bright smile.

Chan sits at the end of the bed and brushes his wet hair to the back, "only if you passed the test," he answers.

Hyunjin enjoys seeing the confusion drawn on your face as you look at him and Chan back and forth to find any clues, "what test?"

Chan crawls on the bed and lays on his stomach next to you, "you got to test us earlier and now it's our turn to test you," he explains and not quite answering your questions.

"Okay, that's fair," you say.

You glance at Hyunjin because he's the softer one between the two of them, "but what is the test?"

Hyunjin kisses your lips and gazes into your eyes, "it's nothing dangerous, of course," he assures you.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he adds, "I think you'll like it."

He then glances at Chan as he flashes you a mischievous grin.

-

What is it with them and the blindfold?

It would be fun if they were the ones in blindfolds and not you. Then again, you're playing with fair by letting them take their turn to test you. What kind of test? That is still the question.

You hear nothing but their low footsteps walking in, out, and around the room while you're still on the bed, clutching your duvet with an eyemask on.

"I don't have all night," you shout at the unknown.

Then all of a sudden, the duvet is taken away from you, exposing your body to the cool night air, and raising the goosebumps on your skin.

"I'm going—"

Before you can finish talking, someone dragging your body by your feet. Sending your head sliding down the pillow and your body to the edge of the bed.

"Okay, boys! It would be a great time for anyone to tell me the rules and stuff," you say again to whoever did that to you since you can't see anything behind the eyemask.

"We've played this game before," someone finally says something after leaving you in silence.

You recognize that it's Chan's voice and he's probably the one putting his hand on your knee right now.

There are so many naughty things you've done together in the past with blindfolds involved in them but it seems like they're going to make you guess who does this and that on you.

"You want me to guess, right?" You confidently say.

The hand on your knee slides down your inner thigh and parts your legs open, "that's true," he answers.

With one of your senses blocked, you feel so exposed lying naked on the bed with your legs wide open. Feeling self-conscious at how you may have looked in your head, you put your legs close but another hand stopped you from doing so.

"How about these?" You hear Hyunjin's voice asking the older one.

"Those will do," Chan answers him.

A pair of hands take your hands and put them close to your thighs, you can feel them bound your hands to your thighs with something. Not ropes or ties, it's like a piece of fabric, smooth, silky... the ribbons from the birthday gifts!

"You know us well," Hyunjin says and from the source of the voice, he's the one tying your wrist to your thigh on the right side.

"Therefore, you'll do well," he finishes.

When he puts it simply like that, it sounds so easy but you're not sure once they do things to you, they tend to do things as they please.

Hyunjin presses another kiss on you and puts his mouth close to your ear, "Good luck!" He mutters as his hot breath tickles your ear.

Nothing happens for a minute or two, you hear low whispers and the movement on the bed. After another minute passed, a hand splays on your chest, warm as it glides down your front.

You're pretty sure it's Hyunjin from the thin fingers and metal rings you feel against your skin, his hand going down south to tease you there.

Delicately, he circles your clit with his finger and traces your folds, smearing your wetness all over to lubricate his fingers as he keeps exploring you.

He slowly pushes one finger inside you, pulls it out then adds another one. He pumps them in and out of you at a steady pace, making you lowly moan as he curls his fingers inside you and hits you right on that spot that makes you...

"Oh fuck!" You don't hold back from cursing.

With your legs and hands tied together, you can't move much but squirm on the bed as he knows how to use those fingers for good.

As if that wasn't enough, someone starts kissing your neck and chest, gliding his mouth down to have your breasts in his mouth. From the way he likes to tug your nipples between his teeth, you can tell who it is.

"Always goes for the tits first, huh, Chan?" You playfully remark.

You can feel his chuckles on your sternum as he shifts his mouth to play with the other breast.

They only tease you enough to make you wet and ready but from the constant moaning, your mouth got dry and the more you swallow air, the more dry it is.

"Water break?" You ask.

"Thirsty?" Hyunjin asks.

You nod at him even though you're not sure where his face is, only guessing from the source of the voice, "Please?"

A moment later, someone gets on the bed next to you, "Open your mouth!"

It's Chan and you obey him, opening your mouth as wide as you can. He pours champagne into your mouth and you try to drink it without getting choked on air even though it trickles down the corner of your mouth.

"Enough?" He asks.

You nod.

"Nah, I think you need more," Chan says.

You open your mouth even though you don't want to but he pours it onto your chest, making you shiver the moment the chilled wine makes contact with your skin.

"Oops!" Chan fakes his surprise.

You feel them dripping down the side of your body but someone slurps it right from your body, licking the wine off your skin.

Not sure if it's Chan, you can't tell as you can only feel their tongue on you as it sucks the puddle of wine gathering on the base of your throat.

It's hot and cold, sweet and slick, wet all over, it's so fucking arousing.

"Anything else, princess?" Chan asks.

You shake your head and give them a half-smirk, "No, I'm ready."

You can hear their chuckles and from the sounds of it, they're planning something, they're up to no good.

"Well, let's see if you know us well," Chan says for the last time, leaving you in silence again.

They make you wait for another minute until you sense someone is hovering above you and propping his hands on each side of you.

You hold your breath as anticipation fills your chest and impatiently wait to feel something poking at your entrance, someone is stroking his cock against your slit as if you're not drenched already.

When it comes to teasing, you're pretty sure it's Chan. You pretend to yawn, "Oh... I'm getting sleepy."

You hear a low chuckle and without warning, he enters you hard and all at once, got you gasping out loud. You can only hope the suite next door is unoccupied or you'll be getting a noise complaint soon from the front desk.

Probably realizing he goes in too strong, he pulls just enough that he penetrates you enough to make you enjoy his steady thrusts, giving you time to guess who it is.

When it comes to their cocks, you can't tell whose without looking because first, you don't care about size, and second, they both know to use them, they feel good inside you, therefore you don't have anything to complain about.

You can only pick up a few clues from the way they feel, the way they move, and the noises that slip out of them.

"A gentleman as always," you breathlessly mutter.

You hear Hyunjin's smile but he's not answering to you and he keeps thrusting into you, making you feel so good that you forget you're being tested.

They switch up but it can be a way to trick you. A hand grabs your thigh and puts it above his shoulder as he slowly pushes his cock inside.

The feel is almost similar to the first one but he thrusts a little harder, a little intense. Without looking, you can tell your breasts are jiggling along to the movement.

Your guess is Chan but from the metal rings around his fingers, it's Hyunjin.

"Chan?" You wildly guess.

A low chuckle slips past someone's mouth from another direction. How can you focus when they're fucking you this good? It's like trying to solve a math problem while riding a roller coaster.

The longer they're doing it the more you can't tell the difference. Fuck, they both just feel so good inside you that you can't think when your head is foggy like this.

"Fuck, fuck," you repeatedly curse as the thrusts are getting harder and deeper.

"Most of your guesses are wrong, baby," Chan says.

You keep moaning as his cock is getting deeper and deeper inside you.

"It's Chan, it's Chan," you randomly guess with whoever name comes up in your head.

"Are you sure?" Hyunjin says.

Noy so sure anymore you curse out loud again, "fuck, you're so deep... oh!"

Despite he's deep inside you, you arch your back asking for more of him. It's only now you realize how frustrating it is you can't touch them with your hands bound to your thighs.

The realization that they take turns to fuck you is enough to send you into overdrive that you don't want to think anymore, you don't care if you didn't pass this test. You want to enjoy being fucked by your two boyfriends.

"You stop guessing," Chan says as he slowed the pace but launches his cock as shallow as he can for every thrust that goes into you.

A rasping moan escapes your mouth as he nudges right on the spot.

"You want to stop?" Hyunjin asks, wherever he is.

"Don't stop!" You aggressively reply.

"Don't stop, please, oh..." your words got cut off as he pushes his cock deep inside you that you dug your nails into your thigh.

"Don't stop," you breathlessly say.

"Cum inside me!" You tell them.

You gulp air to help you calm down, "don't stop until you cum inside me."

A hand caresses your cheek, "You want us two to cum inside you, mmh?"

You nod with your mouth gaping open.

"You're so greedy, angel," Hyunjin says against your lips.

"I am," you shamelessly admit.

He chuckles before pressing another slobbering kiss on you with his hand wrapped around your neck.

As of this moment, you let go of everything and put your trust in them, letting them take you to your high. You can feel their cocks engorging more every time they take their turn, it's only time until one of them...

"Oh fuck, fuck, f—" You hear Chan's rapidly cursing as his thrusts are getting sloppy.

You feel his cock twitching inside you and he only pushes it deeper to plant his seed inside you. Your moans are getting louder as you're getting closer to your climax as well.

Chan's groans are the only sounds filling the room at the moment as he pulls out of you.

"Oh fuck, I came so hard," he breathlessly says.

You can only picture it in your head how his cum is leaking out of you but your head once again stops working as Hyunjin wastes no time to take his turn.

"Let's cum together, right, beautiful?" He asks you with a gentle peck on your lips.

"Yes, please?"

The emptiness you feel from Chan pulled out of you is soon replaced by his pulsating length as it fills you, giving you that delicious stretch.

"You're pushing out all of my cum," Chan complains to him.

Ignoring him, Hyunjin leans his face close and murmurs, "You always feel so good."

You last for a few thrusts before finally cumming around him and keep moaning as he rides past your climax to chase his high.

"A little bit more, yeah?" He says between his grunts.

You repeatedly nod, "cum inside me, yes."

The exhaustion is slowly taking your body and you can only hold on to your senses as much as you can. Your moans are turning into cries of pleasure, followed by your body shaking from the overwhelming sensation running throughout you.

"A little bit—" his groan gets to him as he launches himself so hard into you.

A stifled scream slips out of you and your tears are seeped into the eyemask. Even when they take the eyemask off of you, you can barely keep your eyes open anymore.

"I need a..." you run out of breath to finish talking.

"I need a moment," you croak.

Chan gets to your side and kisses your cheek, "It's alright. You can sleep now."

With that being said, you let yourself fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-

It's so nice waking up from a good, tight sleep.

Even nicer that you wake up with your boyfriends lying on your sides but as your hand gropes around the bed and can't find the other one, you force your eyes open.

You see the bathroom door is open and the sound of the water turned on, you guess one of them is taking a shower right now.

From the hand resting on your waist, you can confidently say it's Hyunjin. You slip your hand into his and gently nudge him awake with your shoulder.

"Baby?"

He nestles his head on the crook of your neck, "mmh?"

"Do you have to leave too?" You meekly.

"Yes. We have an early schedule," he concisely explains.

You put his hand and pull at it tighter around you, "no, don't leave," you whine.

Hyunjin places soft kisses on your bare shoulder, "okay," he simply answers.

You know he only said that to comfort you, he knows he has to leave no matter what.

"Where's that ribbon from last night? I'm going to tie you with it," you mumble.

He chuckles and with his hand on your stomach, he can easily tickle you as he baby talks into your ear.

What can you do when duty calls? You watch them going around the room to get dressed and collecting their things with your eyes still heavy.

"Can't even stay for breakfast with me?" You ask with a pout and put your sparkly eyes to use.

"Don't give me those eyes!" Chan comments, kissing the top of your head as he reaches for his phone on the bedside table.

"Next time, I'll have two boyfriends who aren't working together," you playfully remark.

Hyunjin chuckles as he crawls over to you, "there will be no next time," he says.

Before they leave, they take their turn to kiss you and wish you a happy birthday one last time.

"Don't kiss each other behind me, okay?" You warn them.

You get paused as Hyunjin places a long peck on your lips, "Not without taking a picture of it," you continue.

The hotel suite suddenly feels so big and empty without them. Since you're awake, you may as well start your day by calling room service, ordering a big breakfast for yourself.

As you wait, you stretch out and think of putting something on since the room service can come any minute now. You see the gift box from Chan and decide to put on the black hoodie, smelling something familiar as you put it over your head.

It smells exactly like him as you take a whiff at it. You slip your hands inside the big pocket and find a piece of paper, a greeting card.

"I hope you like the Eau de Chan," it says on it along with a drawing of little hearts around it.

Chan indeed knows you so well that the only reason you like to steal his hoodies is because they smell like him, of comfort and safety.

You hold the fabric close to your nose to take another whiff and it instantly put you at ease, the smell of whenever he holds you tight in his arms.

The knock on the door shatters your daydream and you jog to open the door, knowing that it must be your breakfast.

The staff serves the food on the dining table next to the window with the view of the city basked in bright sunlight.

As you're about to take a bite, you heard another knock on the door and wonder who it might be since the breakfast has arrived.

"Coming!" You reluctantly put down your toast and waddle to the door.

You fix your hair quickly before opening the door and another staff hotel appears in front of you, "Yes?"

"You have flowers delivered for you," he smiles as he hands you a bouquet of pink peonies and you can tell who is it from right away.

The moment you close the door, you read the card attached to the bouquet. Written on it is Hyunjin's handwriting:

"You are blooming like the rare flower you are."

You coo at yourself reading it and brightly smiling as you smell the flowers. Walking back to your breakfast, you text a quick message to both of them.

"Thank you for the best birthday ever," you typed and then press send with a bright smile on your face.

Now you get why people feel special on their birthdays.

-

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[cowgurrrl]

It Ain't Me Babe

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: A holiday present from me to you ❣️

Summary: Ellie’s first art club meeting [2.8k]

Warnings: creative insecurity, mentions of financial instability, teacher things, Ellie talking about Sarah, more flirty flirt, I think that’s it??

Nothing has ever been as annoying or guilt-inducing as an unfinished piece of art. Sure, every artist— no matter the medium— has felt like an uncreative, unoriginal hack, but it still feels just as new as it did the first time. Moonlight streams through your window as you glare at the canvas, hoping for an idea or stroke of genius. It's late. You should be in bed, especially since it's a Sunday night and you spent your weekend working at the bar down the street. But you're holding a paintbrush between stained fingers and praying for a miracle. It's been eight months since you last sold a piece for a whopping $200, chump change when it comes to living in Austin these days. Even with two jobs and doing commission work, you're living paycheck to paycheck. Maybe that's why it's so hard to create? That has to be the reason. You don't remember it being this hard when you were younger.

Creating art was the only thing that brought you solace during your teenage years. It didn't matter if it was drawing, pottery, painting, sculpting. All that mattered was that you were doing it and you were good. You won awards, scholarships, and attention. Your art teacher, Ms. Henry, was a godsend. Grey-haired, glasses-wearing, colorful Ms. Henry glided through lessons and projects like it was second nature. She always had pencils in her hair, a mug in her hands, and a kind word on her lips when you entered her classroom. She's the one who pushed you to go to your artsy liberal arts college full of people richer and better than you. Even with her love and support, you struggled and almost dropped out after that first semester. 

"There's always someone better," she told you when you ended up crying across from her in a coffee shop. "But there's nobody in the world who can make what you will because there is and never will be another you. I mean, God, what a gift. I'd hate to see you waste it." That sobered you enough to keep going and eventually pursue a teaching certification. Ms. Henry has since retired to the Pacific Northwest with her wife, Mable, and sends you a postcard every once in a while because she believes smartphones will be the downfall of civilization. After so many years in education, you're ready to agree with her. 

You sigh, feeling your motivation fluttering away with your breath, and plop your paintbrush down in the cup engraved with the words "DO NOT DRINK" in bold. The canvas doesn't look like much of anything right now— just a mass of colors and shapes that could potentially pass as an abstract version of a landscape. It looks like the other painting you left at the school to work on when you have time. And the painting before that. And the one before that. You curse at exactly the same time your phone buzzes with a text. 

You awake?

You don't bother responding and go straight to FaceTiming her. She picks up on the second ring, her beautiful, round face greeting you with a smile. You met Andie during high school, and her effortlessly cool attitude and bulky violin kit quickly became a part of your heart. You two were inseparable all four years of high school, dividing your time between rehearsals and time spent in the studio, but college took you to art school and her to a prestigious orchestra program in Vienna. She's been there ever since graduation, playing for diplomats and royals alike, but she comes home for holidays, and you've been trying to save money to go see her. Being so far from her is hard, but you make it work. 

"Why are you awake?" You ask by way of a greeting, more than accustomed to your seven-hour time difference and her early riser habits. She laughs, and you hear a tea kettle whistle in the background. 

"Well, hello to you, too," she says. "I have rehearsals all day today, so I got an early start. Why are you awake?"

"I'm staring at my waking nightmare." 

"Oh, God, are you having another spiral?" 

"I'm a hack."

"You're an artist."

"I got rejected again this weekend," you say as if to prove your point, and she sucks her teeth. "They said my art didn't fit their vision for their exhibition, but to feel free and submit another time."

"Well, they must not know great art when they see it. There will be another exhibition and another chance for you to show off your amazing skills. And when you get accepted, which I know you will, I'll fly in, and we'll drink fancy champagne and talk shit the entire opening night." She says, and you sigh. Her persistent optimism is one of the things you love about her, but sometimes, all you want to do is sulk. 

"Or I could fly to you when your first composition gets performed, and we could do all those things in Austria instead of this shithole."

"Hey, some of us like that shithole."

"Some of us haven't lived in the shithole in ten years." 

"Touche," she concedes. "But I'm serious about what I said. You're a good artist, just going through a little bump in the road. One day, we'll be really sexy and successful, and we'll look back at this and laugh with our rich spouses while drinking expensive wine."

"One day," you say, smiling. "How are rehearsals going?" She groans at the question, and you laugh. Whenever you talk to her, she's working on a new show or with a new conductor and always has something to say. There are many things you could call your best friend, but lazy is not one of them.

"I feel like we're stuck on this one part, but the conductor won't listen to me. He says he knows better than I do, which might be true, but also, if he just listened to me, then we can move on. I don't know. I'm sure if I poke him enough, he'll have to listen to me."

"Sounds reasonable." 

"That's what I'm saying," she says as she shuffles her coffee mug and breakfast to her dining room table before checking the time. "It's midnight there. Don't you have school tomorrow?" She asks, and you sigh.

"And an early morning staff meeting and art club after school." 

"Sometimes, I worry about your mental health." She says, and you laugh a little too deliriously to prove her wrong. You stay up talking with her for a while before finally getting hit with a wave of fatigue and crashing into bed. 

The next day is not any less hectic than your weekend was. The staff meeting early in the morning is mind-numbing and completely unnecessary. The printer in the teacher's lounge breaks halfway through a heavy-duty print job, and you're left scrambling for new activities and lessons. Not only that, but your students were more out of control than usual, prompting a veteran teacher to come in and scold your class on your behalf. It would be kind if it didn't make you feel two inches tall and your students didn't look at you like you betrayed them. You spend your planning period indulging in the silence of your empty classroom and fighting off a migraine. 

The second the final bell sounds, your art club kids are knocking down your door, more than ready to work on their projects for the winter showcase. The winter showcase is hosted by a local art gallery that opens for submissions from students every fall. If a student's work is taken, it gets shown in the gallery, and they get entered into a prize to win money and a chance to paint a mural downtown. It's a big deal. So far, you haven't had a student win first place, but you've had them get very close. You always assure them you're proud of them no matter what, which is especially true when Ellie slinks into your classroom with a shy smile.

"Hey! We're just setting up supplies to work on stuff for the showcase. Do you have something to work on?" You ask, gesturing to the students working around the room in a buzz. 

"I think so. Are you gonna play music?" 

"Who do you think I am?" You make a face, and she laughs. "Why don't you find a spot and get comfortable while I queue up a playlist?" She hesitates for a second before she takes a deep breath and musters up the courage to approach another student to ask if she can sit with them. They start chatting easily, and her shoulders relax as she gets more and more comfortable with all the new people. You put on a random playlist and move around the room to answer any questions about colors or give an opinion when asked for one. Over the course of an hour, Ellie makes her own little group of friends, and they all talk as if they've known each other forever as they work. She seems so in her own element, and you can't fight the pride beaming in your chest. Okay, so maybe your job can be pretty cool sometimes. Not fame and fortune cool or traveling overseas cool, but cool nevertheless.

Students gradually start packing up their things and leaving when they get texts from impatient parents in the parking lot or close to dinner time, but Ellie stays behind, bobbing her head to a beat or bouncing her knee under the table. She's the only one left in the classroom when you start packing your stuff and preparing the room for the next day. "You've got a ride home, honey?" You ask, and she glances nervously between you and her phone.

"Yeah. My dad should be here soon." She says. 

"Alright, well, I've gotta lock up here, but I'll wait outside with you until he gets here."

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"It'd make me feel better knowing you weren't left behind. Plus, I'm the adult responsible for you until he picks you up, so it's kinda illegal for me to just leave you here." You say, and she looks hesitant again but nods. Together, you walk out of the classroom and through the empty hallways until you get out to the scorching September afternoon. You stand outside in silence for a few seconds, taking in the sunset, before you turn to look at her.

"How'd you like the club?" You ask. 

"It was fun! I met lots of cool people."

"I told you, kid. You just needed to give it a chance."

"I know, I know," she rolls her eyes, and you smile. "Thank you for pushing me to go. I don't think I would've gone without you." She's so genuine and kind in her tone that it throws you off-kilter. You're used to being berated by students, staff, and parents. To be told you actually had an impact on someone is not commonplace, to say the least. 

"I'm sure you would've found your way there without me." 

"Maybe, but you helped me get there a lot sooner than I would've on my own." She says, and you take a deep breath. It feels nice to be acknowledged, especially after the day you've had, and Ellie seems to sense it. You're looking for something to say when she looks down at her shoes and kicks a stray rock. "Just take the compliment and move on. Don't make it a thing." 

"Alright." You say, laughing, and she cracks a smile, too. Traffic will be horrible on the way home, and you have nothing to eat for dinner, but it's okay. You did one good thing today. That's all you need. 

"Sorry, my dad is taking so long." She changes the subject, a touch of anxiety creeping in, and you shake your head. 

"Does he always work late?" You ask, and she shrugs.

"Sometimes. Dad and Uncle Tommy have been picking up jobs to send money to my sister in Boston. "

"What's in Boston for your sister?"

"Medical school. She's about to go into her internship at a hospital there."

"That's a big deal." You say, and she hums. 

"Yeah. She'll probably save the world or something one day." There's a hint of something nostalgic in her voice, and you decide to push just a little. 

"Do you miss her?"

"A lot," she says. "She's my best friend."

"She's lucky to have you." You say. She smiles but doesn't say anything. You want to ask more about her family, but a rickety, greenish pickup truck comes rumbling through the parking lot before you can. Ellie shifts her backpack on her shoulder as her dad and uncle come into view, and you smile at them. Joel, however, looks frantic. 

He's unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the driver's side door before the car can even finish moving. There's dirt on his pants and a little bit of a sunburn across his arms, the muscles straining across the black fabric. He politely pulls the ball cap off his head to reveal sweaty curls as he approaches you, jerking his head toward the truck at Ellie. "Why don't you wait in the truck with Uncle Tommy? He's got a snack for you." He says, and Ellie lights up at the mention of food. When you're alone, he tucks his hands in his pockets and gives you an apologetic look. 

"'M so sorry. We got caught up at work and lost track of time. It won't happen again." He says, wringing his hands like he's waiting to be scolded, but you wave him off. 

"It's okay. Things happen, and I'm just glad she's got someone picking her up." You say. 

"How'd she do today?"

"Really good. I think she fits right in."

"She make some friends?"

"I can't give away all my secrets. What else are y'all gonna talk about at the dinner table?" You tease. 

"I guess that's right," he says as he stares at you, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "Thanks for waitin' with her."

"It was my pleasure." You say. You stand awkwardly for a few seconds, rocking back and forth on your feet. His eyes are locked in yours, and there's a silent competition to see who's gonna blink first. "Well, I should let you get home. Have a good night." 

"Uh," he starts, stopping you before you can even fully take a step. "I wanted to apologize for the other night. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't make me uncomfortable," you say a little too quickly, and he smirks. "I was very flattered. Besides, it's not the first time."

"Beautiful woman like you, I'm sure you've got 'em linin' the block for a chance with you." He says. You're dancing a delicate dance here. You're not not flirting, and you're not not interested in him, but if your principal finds out, it could cause a whole new world of problems. Still, it's nice to be wanted after so long of being on your own. You're not a saint, but you're also not doing anything inherently wrong, right?

"The teacher thing usually freaks 'em out before they can get very far."

"That's a damn shame." He's quick with it, and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes at the line. A buzz in your bag reminds you of the time and why you're still at school, and you find your footing again. 

"Uh, I usually give out my contact information to the parents of my art club kids in case they need anything or need to contact me quickly. Since Ellie's an official part of that, I figured I should give you my phone number in case anything comes up. If that's alright?" You say, and he pulls his cracked phone from his back pocket. 

"Yeah, yeah. That's more than alright." He says, handing it to you to punch in your information. 

"It's for emergency purposes only."

"What d'you consider an emergency?"

"Mr. Miller-"

"Joel." He corrects, and you give him a look as you pass his phone back. 

"Don't abuse it. I'd hate to have to put you in a group chat with all the PTA moms."

"You're evil." He groans, and you laugh. Tommy, leaning over and honking the truck horn, interrupts your conversation, and he shoots daggers through the back window. 

"I'll see you next week, Joel." You say, dismissing him, and he hesitates for another second before nodding.

"See you next week." He says and turns on his heels to get back in his truck. You think you vaguely catch Joel scolding Tommy for being impatient, but you ignore his deep voice and the engine sputtering as you walk to your own car with a little more pep in your step than this morning.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 (look at how many of you there are!)

[wandanatrules]

Can you do beefy!Nat where she comes home to see the reader in a little maid or school girl costumes and fucks the shit out of her with a strap. And makes reader gag on the strap. And maybe a size kink?

My Little Maid

word count: 730

pairing; beefy, ceo, g!p nat x subby, maid, fem reader

I’m trying to work on these requests, please keep sending them in. Thank you sm for supporting my work! I know this one is pretty short, but I’m trying to write as much as possible while I am still on winter break. Also thank you to all of those who message me and want to become mutuals I love talking to you all. I am also following back everyone that follows me. Sorry for rambling I hope you enjoy!

warnings: smut, oral (N receiving), foul language, cnc, choking kink, slut shaming, fingering, penetration

After a hard day at work, your boss Natasha walked through the door loosening her tie and kicking off her shoes. You waited for her at the door with a glass of whiskey ready to take her coat. You turned around to go tidy up when she grabbed you by the wrist. Accidentally knocking the drink out of her own hand and spilled it down your breasts, soaking your blouse and staining the carpet. 

“It seems as though i’ve made a mess, won’t you be a dear and clean it up for me my little maid?” Natasha rasped in your ear, standing behind you grasping your tits.

“Uggh oh yes ma’am of course” You say hurriedly as you grab your rag and drop to your knees to clean up the spilled liquid.

Natasha watches in awe as you lean over harshly scrubbing the floor as your tits spill out of the top to your maid costume. Your panty-less ass was sticking out of the too short skirt that came with the outfit, as you leaned further onto the floor. Natasha’s dick began to stir in her pants as she reached down to grip your hips, muscles  tensing. She just sat back and watched your ass move as you continued your attack on the stain.

“Don’t worry Ms. Romanoff i’m gonna get the stain out” you said determined, unaware that the woman behind you had dropped her pants and was stroking her cock to the sight of you. She was painfully hard and the only thing that would help her was your tight, wet, depths, so she quickly ripped down your skirt and thrusted herself into you, shocking you.

“Oh my god, Ms. Romanoff please.” you moaned as she picked up the pace with her brutal attack on your cunt. 

“You are such a slut, letting anybody fuck your tight little pussy.” She rasped in your ear as she tied her belt around your neck to pull you back. “I should start making messes more often.”

“Ma’am I don’t know if we should be doing this, it's unprofessional.” You stammered out while trying to regain your composure. Your comment made her more feral as she pulled you up with the belt tightening it around your neck.

“You know you want this you fucking slut, walking around here with these tight shirts that spill your boobs out and short short skirts that leave your ass out every time you go to bend over. You knew since the moment you applied for this job that you wanted me to fuck you. Don’t ever disrespect me again. Shut up and take whatever I fucking give you.” Your boss said as she pushed you onto your stomach jerking the cum out of her dick before it spurted all over your chest and face.

“Hurry up and clean up this mess.” She said lifting you back onto your knees, so you can suck the sperm off of her cock. “ I should’ve cum inside you, you would be so sexy all round and plump with my baby walking around here cleaning up my messes. Wouldn’t you, my little maid? Such a shame it went to waste.” 

You expertly swallowed her cock as she held down your head and roughly fucked your mouth. She was on her knees, her tall frame with hard chiseled abs, towered over you as you looked up at her and continued to suck her off. The throbbing between your legs was getting unbearable so you started to hump the rag you used to clean up her spill, moving your hips faster along with your mouth.

“Such a slut.”, she said as she removed her hands from your head and trailed them down to your wet and sticky cunt. Giving you her fingers to hump on. 

“Oh my god ma’am i’m gonna cum, please.” you said falling apart in seconds above her expert fingers.

“I’m right there with you sweet heart.” She said as she finally let loose for the second time. A hot rush of cum dispensed down your throat spilling out the sides of your mouth as you tried your best to swallow it all. 

“Oh natty, that was so good.” You said as she helped you up off the floor, “We should role play more often.”

“Of course baby, don’t forget I’ve got that school girl outfit coming in the mail.”

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

With All That I Am

Billy Russo x Female Reader

Part 7 of my Accidentally on Purpose Series

Warnings: Hospitals, injury recovery, cockwarming, oral (f receiving), angst, hurt/comfort.

SIX MONTHS AGO

There's something about Dominic Saintclair that Billy had never liked.

He could never put his finger on it. Maybe it was the pretentiousness of his actions, the way he looked like he'd never had a hard day in his life, the lackadaisical way he treated things as if they were replaceable.

The way he didn't understand that the most valuable thing he had, was the one thing he was mistreating right now.

"I swear, she doesn't know when to leave me alone." Dominic says loudly in the opulent bar, a place that was more red velvet seats and accented gold ornaments than anything else. It was somewhere Billy brought the clients he could impress easily, ones that didn't understand what the best brand of gin for a negroni was, or that whiskey shouldn't be served with ice. It was simply a place that glittered, gorgeous on the surface with no real substance... or character... not unlike the man in question.

Billy looks down at Dominic's cloned phone. All you had said was that you hoped he was having fun. 

"Maybe you're just not fucking her enough." One of his friends joke.

"Oh fuck off. I fuck her more than enough, maybe that's why she's so needy." It gets a round of laughter from his friends, and a disgusted frown from Billy.

At the bar, only a few tables away, Billy's hand tightens on his glass of whiskey, his back is to the group, and he's positioned in a dark enough corner to be unnoticed while still being able to hear the conversation.

"Anyways, enough about that, finish telling me about the red head." Dominic says, and Billy is forced to listen to him talk about other women when he has the best one.

Billy thinks about how stupidly simple it would be to kill your boyfriend, but doing it now would create more problems. You wouldn't know how much of an asshole he really was, for starters, you'd probably convince yourself that you'd been deeply in love with him before his untimely death. People tended to put dead loved ones on a pedestal, forgiving them unless their crimes were truly heinous. 

No, you had to see Dominic for his true colours first. Then, and only then, he would wipe your stain of a boyfriend from the earth.

Billy listens to Dominic say some more vile things, fully understanding his hatred for the man now. Dominic was manipulative, showing you one face, and yet secretly thinking something else behind your back. With a frown, he scrolls through your older messages.

You always seemed to be reaching for him, supportive of the things he said. He never voiced his support for you in return. 

What a fucking waste of space. To have someone as precious as you, and to take you for granted.

If he had you... he'd worship you. Without a doubt, Billy would kiss every inch of your skin, kneel at your feet if you asked, kiss you at every waking moment.

When another text comes in from you, he smiles.

As predicted, you text a second time after you've seen his read receipts and no response has come in from your idiot boyfriend.

'Are you alright?' You text.

The corner of Billy's mouth lifts, he wishes you were sending texts like this to him.

Dominic responds.

'Yes. I'm fine. Stop bothering me.'

Billy's smile drops.

You don't respond, but you see the message. He knows that you're hurt by it.

Billy's thoughts go violent again.

Anonymously, Billy has bought round after round of shots for the men, until they're wasted, and their lips are loose and he can soak in all the information possible. He plots while he listens, and he learns so much, until he could pick apart any man there in his sleep.

Their numbers dwindle, until it's just two men there, and he waits patiently for Dominic to stand on inebriated feet and head off to the bathroom.

Billy knows that Dominic is barely functional right now, having taken shot after shot, Billy is aware that Dominic will not remember any bit of whatever is happening right now.

With that information, he texts Dominic's companion from the cloned phone.

'Feeling better now, ordered an Uber, you can go ahead without me.'

Billy watches his friend read the text, finish his drink and then leave.

Too easy.

Dominic is so far gone that when he returns to his seat, he barely notices that his friend's things are gone, and Billy acts fast to stop Dominic from realising that anything is amiss.

"Saintclair." Billy greets, whiskey in hand, looking around to make sure that no one is looking, "Drinking all by yourself?" 

Dominic looks up at Billy and squints.

"Mister Russo?"

Billy hums the affirmative.

"Got room for company?" The words are bitter in his mouth.

Billy doesn't wait for an answer, pushing the inebriated man deeper into the booth and sliding into the space next to him. He hates this place, literally just designed for showing off, he glances at Dominic, who's lost in his own head, staring at his drink.

Nothing this man was thinking could ever be worth your time.

He raises his hand to the bartender, calling for another round of shots.

Dominic only has time to adjust his body, from his slumped, hazy demeanour, to appear like someone with all their critical thinking skills functional.

Billy spikes the drink with a little bit of melatonin, it's more than enough at Dominic's current level of intoxication.

"Wasn't drinking by myself, but the rest of guys have already left." Dominic slurs, and Billy raises his eyebrows, extending the spiked shot to the already drunk man.

He gives Dominic the opportunity to decline the shot, doesn't force it into his hands, just holds it out expectantly and watches the younger man choose his own self-destruction.

He kind of delights in it, the anarchy he's capable of. Each person has a role to play and it's always nice when they do it as expected.

Dominic throws back the shot with him and internally, Billy begins his internal stopwatch.

"I hope the job's treating you well." Billy hums, uncaring of what the man next to him has to say. He just has to make small talk for fifteen minutes, before the drug kicks in.

Billy asks about some of his coworkers, and then his phone pings, alerting him to a message. 

"Clingy." Is all Dominic has to say, looking at his phone when Billy inquires casually.

His eyebrows raise, watching his employee yawn, the drug beginning to take effect.

"If you don't like her that much, then why are you with her?" Billy asks, trying to keep the anger out of his tone.

"Why not?" Is the last thing Dominic says before he slumps over onto the table, asleep.

Billy blinks, an angry sneer growing on his face. What a careless piece of shit. He reaches for Dominic's phone, unlocks it and opens your messages the way he's done a hundred times before.

'At least tell me you're okay.' You'd texted.

"Prick." Billy swears, typing out a message to you on Dominic's phone.

'I'm alright sweetness, just getting ready to go home.' After a moment, he sends another message.

'I'm sorry about that last message, you don't bother me.'

He finds himself smiling when your text bubbles appear almost immediately.

'That's alright! I understand that you probably just wanted some time with your friends.' You say.

You were so quick to forgive, it made Billy's heart sour with the thought that Dominic didn't deserve your forgiveness.

'How was your night?' He asks, smiling fondly when he gets a picture of you wearing a fluffy robe and face mask.

'Very pretty, baby.' He replies, which earns a little '😳' face in response.

How sweet you were, saccharine and sticky, Billy could find himself eating you up quite easily.

'I mean it. I think you're fucking gorgeous.'

It takes a moment to get your response.

'How much have you had to drink exactly?'

Billy grits his teeth, looking over at the unconscious fuck. He barely ever tells you how pretty you are. It's why you think he's drunk now.

'A bit, but that doesn't make it any less true. You are beautiful.'

You don't respond immediately, Billy spends five minutes refreshing Dominic's phone until he gets a very shy 'Thank you,' in response.

He smiles, pockets Dominic's phone.

"Time to get you home, Saintclair." He says to the unconscious man.

He gets someone from the bar to help him get Dominic into the back seat of his car, uncaring of how he's placed, thanking the larger man with a hefty tip before getting into his car.

'You didn't tell me what you did today.' He sends before driving off.

He hears several different message notifications while he drives, and he can't help smiling, because for once, you were finally talking to him, and not as a stranger, but as someone familiar.

It was much harder to get Dominic to his apartment due to the lack of help he'd had from earlier, yet Billy made do with tossing the unconscious man over his shoulder, and then putting him down when they were in the elevator.

Billy really could have left Dominic anywhere, at the bar, or at the front steps to his apartment, or even at the door, with his keys in hand to have him wake up there in the morning horrified that he was so drunk he couldn't even make it inside.

But Billy drops Dominic on his bed instead, after accidentally bumping his head on a few door frames, he decides that he'd keep the drunk asshole safe this time...for you.

After, Billy sits in Dominic's living room, and opens up his phone once more.

'Okay, this doesn't mean anything but I went to a jewellery store today. I was looking at earrings and then I couldn't help looking at the engagement rings.'

Oh? Billy thinks.

'They were all shiny and even though I like shiny, they didn't feel like me you know? I feel like if we ever... uhhhh.... you know.... get married, I'd want something more unique you know?'

'Hello? Are you there? Did I scare you off? This isn't me asking for a wedding, I'm just saying.'

'Dominic?'

Billy sucks in a breath.

'I'm here, sorry, just got home.' he replies, tries to ignore the pain inside of him that worsens with the thought of you getting married to anyone other than him.

'Oh... Hi' you respond.

Billy smiles.

'Hi, do you have any ideas of what you think might be for you?'

He can almost see your excitement.

'Are you sure? If this is weird, you can say so.'

How cute, the way you care.

'I'd really like to see them.' He answers.

You send a link, and indeed, they're beautiful and unique and Billy can't help the thoughts of wearing it, and having you wear the other.

'These are the ones I've always dreamed of.' you add on with the attached pictures.

He bites down on his bottom lip, closes his eyes, and imagines how perfect your hands would look linked together, decorated with matching rings. The thought makes him hard.

'They have to be custom ordered though, really expensive, I'm sure we can find something cheaper.'

Absolutely not.

'They're beautiful. Tell me your ring size so that I can surprise you.'

He makes note of it when you send it.

'I can't wait to marry you.' He says.

'Well now I know you really are drunk.' You respond.

Billy has a quick moment of realisation when he remembers that you think you're talking to Dominic.

His smile drops.

'I am drunk. But you're still the most amazing person on the planet. I think you might be it for me.' And Billy means it. He means every word. He plans to marry this sweet girl that waltzed her way into his life and believed in him after two conversations.

'I love you.' Comes your reply.

Billy smiles.

'I love you too.' 

He stays with you until you fall asleep, telling you all the sweet things he's ever wanted to say, dodging personal topics that he doesn't know the answers to. When you're finally asleep, he stands, checks the time, and goes back to Dominic's room, dropping his phone onto the bed beside his sleeping form.

Billy almost considers hitting him, enjoying the thought of giving him a black eye in the morning, but that had the possibility of scaring him into not drinking again, and Billy couldn't have that.

So he leaves, walks out of your boyfriend's apartment, and does not set it on fire like he wants to. 

.

NOW

You stare calmly at the elevator doors. The smell of hospital filling the air around you. In a way, there was an ease to it, a comfort in the sterile cleanliness, a place designed to turn chaos into order.

You sip on your coffee, feeling refreshed after popping back home for a quick shower and supplies for Billy. You didn't want to leave, but you knew you wouldn't be able to stay while the nurses changed his bandages, the wound too fresh to introduce any foreign bacteria. So you'd decided to make yourself useful in the meantime.

Frank was still here somewhere, waiting for you to return so that he could leave. You'd both had tentatively agreed that Billy should not be left alone under any circumstance, surprised that you and his best friend had been on a similar wavelength when it came to caring for him.

Frank's in the waiting room taking a call when you see him. He gives you a little nod, and a gesture of his head that tells you it's okay to go see him.

You do exactly that, making your way to the nurses' station to sign in before heading to his room.

You stop short when at the door, you hear the sound of female laughter. 

It's not laughter exactly, it's... giggling.

It's obviously flirtatious, in that pitch that's just too high to be normal.

You hear Billy's voice next, too far away to make out what he's saying but he sounds polite.

Followed by more giggling.

Pure jealousy rears its head. 

You had only been gone for an hour and someone had taken the opportunity to begin flirting with your husband? 

Something dark blooms inside you, and you take a deep breath, and walk through the doors with your head high.

Two pairs of eyes turn to look at you.

"I'm back." You say calmly, smiling.

Billy smiles at you, his hair askew in every direction as if he hasn't ever heard of a brush. It's adorable, makes him look so much more boyish than usual. Your eyes go to the young nurse, that's currently taking Billy's blood pressure, quietly sizing her up, deciding if she was worth any sort of trouble at all.

"Hey baby, did you get one of those for me?" He asks, referring to the cappuccino in your hands.

You look down at him, close enough to see the tiredness under his eyes although you know this is the most amount of sleep he's ever gotten.

"Sorry, doctor said no." You respond.

Billy lets out a pained groan, and you can't help it, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his temple.

He sighs, reaching up to take your hand in his, you watch his eyes linger on your wedding ring.

"I was just explaining to Becca here how easy it was to ignore the pain for so long."

Becca?

Your eyebrows raise in amused displeasure.

"Yeah," she adds in with a wistful smile, "If he didn't pass out from the pain he probably wouldn't have gotten help in time."

Great, a reminder that you weren't there when he'd almost died. You're pretty sure that the only expression you show her is one of disdain.

'Careful,' you think maliciously in her direction, 'If he likes you enough he'll cage you like a bird.'

"How are his vitals?" You ask blankly, trying to get her out of here as soon as possible, ignoring the way Billy looks up at you in confusion at your clipped tone.

"They're uh, they're good! But-" She begins to say, but stops short and presses the back of her hand to Billy's forehead. You blink, clenching your teeth together. You're pretty sure this wasn't medically professional, and you suck in a slow breath to stop yourself from smacking her hand away from your husband.

"Are you feeling okay Bil- Mister Russo? Your heart rate is a bit high." she continues.

You glance up at her monitor in question, and sure enough the little number on screen next to the pulsing heart symbol was just a little above one hundred.

You knew that his heart shouldn't be going at near a hundred beats per minute if he was mostly stationary in bed.

Billy lets out a nervous laugh. You look down at him in confusion.

"Yean, that's- I'm fine- It's just... well... her." He explains, glancing up at you for a second.

Me? You think incredulously, blinking.

His heart is beating fast because you were near him?

Your anger dissolves as fast as it had appeared, stomach fluttering, you try to fight the smile pulling at your face but you inevitably fail.

He doesn't look up at you, so you grip his jaw, tilting his head up.

Absentmindedly, you're aware of the nurse excusing herself from the room.

You press your lips to his swiftly, delight spreading down your body when he groans against your mouth. You deepen the kiss and he accepts it eagerly.

After a moment, you pause, turning your head to look at the little monitor, His heart rate having gone up to one hundred and twenty.

"Still jealous?" he asks, with a cheeky smile.

You don't answer, leaning in to kiss him softly once more.

. 

"Please." Billy begs.

"No." You whisper, bumping your nose against his, adjusting your body under the sheets so that you're both fully covered.

"Just a little bit." He tries to bargain.

"You move, and I'll stop. You cum, and I'll stop." 

He lets out a harsh breath.

"You're being really mean to me." He pouts.

"If you rip a stitch, I won't touch you until they come out."

He groans, frustrated.

Unable to resist, you clench around his cock.

"That's not fair." he gasps desperately.

"Sorry, this isn't entirely easy for me either."

Currently, you were both under his sheets, on your back, both legs draped over his hip, while he lies on his left side facing you. It was a position that had made it very easy for him to slip himself inside of you, allowing you to keep his cock warm. 

He swallows, looking at you with warm eyes.

"You feel so good around me. You know that?"

How was he allowed to say things like that while literally stretching you open? God, you could feel the tip of his cock nestled snugly in the very deepest parts of you, every inch of your cunt sighing in relief at finally being so full of him.

You feel yourself get smaller under his gaze, soft, gentle, unnameable in its unfamiliarity.

"If it feels half as good as it does for me, then yeah, I know." you reply easily.

He smiles, it causes butterflies to flutter in gentle circles within you.

"You're beautiful." he murmurs softly.

It's your turn to swallow and look away.

Your eyes are drawn to his bare chest, and the snake tattoo that resides on his shoulder. He could not be real with the way he made you feel, like all the air in the room had simply vanished by his command, held even further out of reach by the thickness of his cock sitting still inside you.

"You really mean that?" You ask, your insecurity gaining a foothold in your head.

He reaches for your left hand, raises it up to his face so that he can lay a swift kiss onto your wedding ring.

"I do." 

The door swinging open has your eyes widening from your shared spot under the sheets. Thankfully, you were still mostly clothed, where Billy was fully naked.

"Bill?" comes Frank's voice in question from his spot by the door.

Billy winks at you, before moving the sheet off your top halves to reveal you both to the open air.

"Hey Frank." Billy greets.

Frank takes one look at your positions and lets out a tired sigh.

"You two are fucking, aren't you?" The exasperated sound of his voice drawing a smile from you.

You can't help the laugh that leaves you, giving everything away. 

Frank's disappointed expression makes Billy laugh too.

"Alright. I'm walking out this door, I'll be back in five minutes, your pants better be on, Russo."

"Make it ten!" Billy shouts just as Frank gives another disappointed shake of his head, and leaves the room.

.

Clothed now, in long blue linen pants, Billy kisses your temple, one arm wrapped securely around you as you lie beside him.

"Thanks for being here with me." He says softly, his hands gripping onto any available part of you he could reach, anything to pull you closer to him.

"What? Is Frank not good enough company?" You tease, beginning to laugh when you feel the scratch of his beard as he kisses your throat.

"Frank is usually in the bed beside me." he says into your neck, and you laugh at the imagery.

"Plus," he says in a softer, more serious tone as he pulls away for a moment. You turn to look at him curiously.

"I've never had someone worry about me the way you do."

"Ever?" You ask.

He shakes his head, looks down.

You're not sure what he's thinking, but it looks like guilt, all soft lines and sadness and you ache to make him feel better.

You lean forward, cupping his jaw. His eyes are so open for you that you think you can see his soul in them- a dark web of shadows, that glitters with vulnerability the more you look. 

You wanted his vulnerability, you wanted him to open himself up to you, and share everything he was, everything he could be, until you were full of him.  

Until you could taste him in your mouth, even when he wasn't around.

"I'm here now, and I'll worry. I'll fight anyone that stops me from getting to you. Including Frank Castle." You promise.

His frown grows into a smile.

"You're sure you don't wanna ride me? I'll stay really still." 

You groan.

"No, no vigorous activity for at least four weeks."

"You riding me isn't vigorous."

"Yes, but I'd consider your orgasms vigorous." You reply, contemplating the way the muscles of his abdomen tended to tighten up when he came.

"Wait," Billy says in horror, "I can't come for four weeks?"

"You'll be fine." You huff.

"No I won't be." He protests.

"Just let me take care of you."

He couldn't argue with that.

. 

"You hate me don't you?" Billy asks.

You try not to grin.

You turn to face him, clad in only your plainest underwear as you get ready for work. Somehow, he still saw beauty in you, even when you weren't trying. It was exhilarating.

Unfortunately you couldn't stay with him, a meeting had been scheduled that you didn't want to push back due to the difficulty in actually getting the meeting in the first place.

"Why? Is there something wrong with it?" You ask, turning playfully to show him the back and the front.

"Everything's fucking wrong with it," Billy grumbles from his spot in bed, head tilting back for a second in what looks like a plea to God himself.

"When I get these stitches out, you're gonna be in so much trouble." he says with a little grunt.

You hum, in thought.

"You know, now that I think about it, I don't think I'll wear underwear today." You taunt.

Billy groans loudly.

Something delightful blooms within you.

. 

Wrong.

This was supposed to be wrong.

The more you think that, the more you know that this is the most right feeling in the world.

There was nothing in your old life that could ever possibly compare to him.

Usually, people coerced into marriage were subjected to inhumane treatment, impossible and abusive environments, that sucked the very living soul out of them.

The most soul sucking being done to you was when you'd been forced to deny Billy the pleasure of tasting you last night.

The pleasure of tasting you... because to him... it really was a pleasure.

You swallow, sitting at his desk, tense in his comfortable chair. You'd become someone he'd wanted.

Or maybe you'd always been. When had he decided to marry you anyways?

You blink, shock spearing through you.

What if your feelings weren't real? But simply a defence response to your circumstances.

A tired sigh leaving your lips. A shake of your head.

Would you want him if you weren't trapped by him? 

The question eats away at your sanity. You spin it around and around in your head and still you can't find an answer.

You're scared by it. By the notion of losing him.

You're also scared by the idea of staying with him, still not fully understanding what he was capable of.

Which fear was right?

And which one would break your heart? 

. 

Billy says your name in question when he hears a door slam shut.

"Just me, Bill." Is Frank's answering voice.

"Where is she?" He murmurs, throat dry, looking up at the ceiling. The pain meds held him in a state of mild confusion, spaced out so that he wasn't in any pain, but unable to truly focus on the things happening around him.

He hears the slow pour of water, peeks an eye open to find Frank beside him. He struggles to sit up, tucking a second and then third pillow behind him for support and gratefully accepting the glass of water from Frank.

"It's only two, her meeting just started so you'll see her a little later."

Billy nods, ignoring Frank's gaze as he sips the water.

"I've never seen you so down bad before."

Billy's laugh bubbles in the glass he's holding.

"What can I say? I'm a romantic." He answers flippantly.

Frank snorts loudly in knowing disbelief. Billy frowns.

"You don't think it's fast? Is she... does she have something on you?"

Anger spears itself through Billy, some at Frank, most at himself.

I'm a monster, he thinks.

He turns away, not wanting Frank to read the expression on his face, wondering if his look of guilt alone will put the pieces together in Frank's head.

"It's not like that." He says easily, thinking to himself what a sick fuck he must be to coerce someone so glorious, so awe-inspiring, into marriage against her will.

He thinks he hates himself for it.

"She told me you got accidentally married. I can't imagine a version of you, however drunk, that would accept marriage."

Frank was getting too close. Billy had to say something to appease him.

"I'd met her before, at... a company party or two. I liked her, but she had a boyfriend."

When Billy doesn't continue, Frank is forced to prompt.

"And?" 

Billy stares down at the sheets. The very sheets you'd slept under last night.

"And when I met her in Vegas, they'd just broken up, and I wanted something with her, and I don't remember how, but the next day I woke up married to her and I was so happy."

It's mostly the truth, the best tale he can spin in his state.

"I know it doesn't make sense, Frankie, but when I'm with her... I'm the man I've always wanted to be."

Frank is quiet for too long now, and Billy is forced to turn his head and look up at his best friend curiously.

Both men stare at each other in silence for a moment.

"Alright, okay, I'm sold, bring her around to meet Maria and the kids." Frank says finally.

If anything, this was Frank Castle's ultimate seal of approval. Introducing strangers to his family was not an occasion to be taken lightly.

Billy grins up at Frank.

"I can't believe I had to lose my appendix to get her invited to a Castle family dinner. You're so gullible, Frank." Billy teases.

He's rewarded with a gentle smack to his shoulder.

. 

You run your hands over the fabric of your dress, deep in thought.

Was it too much? You think you might be overdressed.

It was a lovely beige colour, maybe tan, knee length with a vintage design and little puff sleeves. You'd liked how it looked in the store. Now? You honestly felt like it was a little much.

Maybe Billy would be able to help you decide.

You call his name, walking out of your shared closet and toward the living room where you saw him last.

You spin the corner and find him already coming toward you.

"Are you okay?" He asks, dressed casually in a grey shirt and black pants.

You stumble over your words, your brain spinning too fast for you to keep up.

"W- yeah- I was coming to ask your opinion, but I am so clearly overdressed." You turn on your heel to go back into the bedroom.

"Oh no you don't." Billy says, and before you know it, he's grabbed a hold of your wrist, pulling you into his body.

You gasp, eyes widening on his face as he presses you against the wall of the hallway.

Your heart pounds in your chest at his proximity. Your need for him outweighs rational thought until you have to remind yourself that he's still recovering. If he touched you right now though, he'd find you already wet, and eager for him.

While you've been fighting your aching desire, he's taken the time to run the tips of his fingers across the apple of your cheek.

"God. You're so pretty." He whispers, warm eyes spilling euphoria into you.

He couldn't mean that. Could he?

You glance away, only to be forced into looking back at him when he grabs your jaw roughly.

The tension between you feels like an electric charge, that heightens as he gets closer. 

It's like he's never touched you before, like the sensation is brand new, and not months old. 

"I should change," You whisper, "This dress is too much."

He takes a deep breath, his hand glides from gripping your jaw to curl around your throat. Your breath stutters at the feeling. Something flutters low, an ache to be filled rears its head.

"You're gorgeous. In anything you wear. I'd want you in a ball gown or a potato sack."

Good lord.

When you smile, he brings his fingers up to press against your lips, exploring the shape of your smile, appreciating the softness.

"You mean that?" You ask, a little unsure.

His dark eyes devour you, unfocused as he looks at you, balancing on the precipice of admiring you and imagining just exactly what he wants to do to you.

"Why don't I show you?" He offers.

You reach to grip his elbows when it seems like he's going to kneel.

"No, we- you're still recovering and I don't think it's fair that I get to cum if you can't."

He lets out a low grunt, pressing his body roughly against yours, his palms against the wall on either side of your head, his forehead and nose pressed to yours. The intensity of his gaze makes you turn your head to look away, he's got the demeanour of a man starved, desperate, borderline unhinged.

He doesn't let you move far, fingers curling around the back of your neck to bring you back to face him.

"Little wife," he says so deeply that you're not sure if it's a promise or a threat.

"Lift your dress up for me, or I'll tie you up and lick your cunt anyway."

You gulp. The very thought of being helpless while he-

Fuck, but you didn't even have the time, Frank would be expecting you in an hour. 

You let out a breath, feeling more than seeing the smile that forms on his face as you begin gathering the materials of your skirt into your fists.

"Good." he says finally, and you can only feel your body throb with heat in response.

There's the gentlest kiss to your mouth, something of a promise, a pledge that when he's done with you, you won't remember how to walk.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he kneels, you know that when he reaches up to tug your underwear down the length of your legs, that he'll see the desperation he causes.

He swears when he sees it, drawing out the syllables as he witnesses the way your arousal clings to the little piece of fabric protecting your modesty.

You swallow, the materials bunched in your hands no doubt wrinkling with the force.

He takes his time, tracing coarse fingers over your calve, behind your knee and up your thigh, pulling gently to guide one of your legs over his shoulder. 

He doesn't bother to touch your centre, circle your sweet bud with his thumb like he wants to, he uses his tongue right away.

You take in a sharp breath at the contact. The tip of his tongue meeting your clit affectionately, like old friends reuniting.

A shiver goes down your spine, you crush your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Billy." You whisper softly, tilting your head back as his tongue flattens on you.

He takes it slow, remarkably gentle on your hypersensitive body, having gone relatively long in recent times without an orgasm, you feel like just the right move will pull you apart at the seams.

You let out a little groan, sighing as his pace quickens, his tongue pushing deeper, so that he can get a taste of you directly from the source.

It's primal, soft, ritualistic in the way that his tongue worships you, your eyes rolling back in your head as he draws you close to your peak.

There's an obscene sucking sound, followed closely by a hum of pleasure from between your legs. You feel your body tense, coiled tight on the precipice of bliss, thighs trembling as he keeps his tongue focused on your clit, lapping gently, and then a little harsher, to be gentle again.

His beard scratches your thighs, and even that is an aphrodisiac by itself, reminding you constantly that it's his mouth on you, his tongue on your cunt, his head between your thighs.

A sharp whine of warning, your stomach tightens, your breath stutters. 

A groan of approval from him, the soft twist of his fingers on your skin, as if to encourage you, to tell you how good you're being for him, and all you ever want to do now is be good for him.

Being deconstructed by his mouth should be a lot harder, and yet, Billy makes it look like a basic endeavour.

Your toes curl, head knocking the wall, you feel like you're coming apart, atom by atom, the force of your pleasure barely contained within your skin. You feel the walls of your cunt clamp down into a tight vise, as wave after wave of bliss fills every square inch of your body.

You barely make more than a quiet gasp- too inebriated on his tongue to even scream. 

He keeps licking you gently, lazily, trembling shudders working through your system until you're forced to tap his shoulder for a reprieve.

Another obscene sound when he pulls away, looking up at you, his mouth and beard shiny with your release.

He puts you back on two feet, but your knees buckle once the full weight of you is on them.

He stands swiftly, arms wrapping around you to pull you to his body keeping you upright, a small grunt leaving him.

You blink, struggling to restart your brain.

You realise his grunt is one of pain, as he tries to hold you up, it's what kickstarts your brain into working.

You grip his biceps, straightening your legs under you and willing them to stay that way.

"Sorry." You whisper, trying to take a deep breath.

"It's alright. If I could, I would have picked you up myself." He whispers back, and you raise your head to look into his eyes.

Something unnameable passes between you, you can't put a finger on it- but it feels like quiet appreciation for each other. 

He helps you to the couch, sitting you down before disappearing into the bathroom.

When he re-emerges, it's with a clean face and a damp washcloth. 

He encourages you down to the car after cleaning you and redressing you. You try to tell him that you're capable- but he won't have it.

He slides into the back of the car beside you, and almost immediately tucks your body against his, pulling your legs over one of his for comfort.

You sag, still fatigued from such a powerful orgasm.

Jesus, was it always going to be like that? All mind-consuming and explosive?

You smile when he kisses your forehead, tilting your head up to let him kiss you softly on the mouth.

Delightful, consuming, everything about him was just so... tantalising, you wanted to spend hours learning him, take days to map every thought in his head, every idea in his heart.

He was a dangerous enigma, a slippery slope.

And you were falling. 

. 

When Frank pulls the door to his house open, he gives you both a very suspicious look.

After a moment, he lets out a long sigh of disappointment.

"You two better not fuck in my house." He threatens.

"How can you even tell?" Billy asks in disbelief, reading into the quiet accusations being made by Frank.

"Isn't it obvious?" Frank asks, opening the door wider to let you in.

"Hi Frank," you say in greeting as you walk past him. He says your name, with a small nod of acknowledgement.

You take a moment to appreciate their house, it's warm and cozy, with lots of baseball trophies lining the mantle over the fireplace. There's a lot of pinks and beiges, a cozy line of couches near the fire.

Before you can do more looking, you hear a woman's voice.

"Is that them?" She asks, spinning into the room.

This must be Maria, you think, as you watch her take Billy into an aggressive hug, giving him a kiss to the cheek before letting him go in a flourish, a look of violation comically painted on his face.

When she turns to you next, you gulp.

She's very pretty, with lovely auburn hair. You notice a large scar curving from the corner of her eye down to the edge of her chin.

You only get a second of awareness before she's taking you into a hold just as violent as the one she'd trapped Billy in. 

You can't help but giggle at her blatant showing of affection.

She says your name in greeting.

"I hear you kneed Frank in the balls. Well done."

You splutter for an excuse.

"I'm sorry-"

"-Don't be," she interjects, "I wished I'd seen it myself."

You smile, looking over to Frank, who is mid-roll of his eyes.

"That'll cost you later, big boy. Come! Dinner is almost ready." Maria says quickly, turning away and you let out a little chuckle in response to Frank's apologetic face. 

"Billyyyyyyyyy." You hear someone shout, and you watch in horror as a small blur begins racing to your husband.

Your mouth opens, subtly stepping in front of him, ready to catch said blur.

Frank beats you to it, grabbing his son under the arms and picking him up for a second before putting him back down.

"Woah there slugger, take it easy on Uncle Billy, he just had surgery." 

You sigh, moving away from Billy so that he can hug his godson in peace. You catch Maria staring at you. You give her a smile of apology before looking away.

"Frank, I want you to meet my wife," Billy says, turning the younger Frank's body in your direction.

You can instantly see the suspicious look on his face.

You tell him your name, extending your hand politely in greeting.

He takes it, shaking your hand politely, it's the best you can hope for, being a stranger in their home.

"You're not a gold digger are you?" Frank Jr. says suddenly.

It's met with lots of scolding from his parents. You can't help laughing at everyone's shocked expressions.

"Where did you even learn that word?" Frank says, exasperated.

"In school." Younger Frank answers honestly.

Billy straightens, gives you an apologetic look.

"She's not with me for my money, junior, I'm with her cause she's sweet." He wraps a hand around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest.

You can't look at him, leaning in and accepting the comfort.

You meet Lisa next, Frank's older daughter, she's polite, but you can also see the accusation in her eyes.

You figure it's nice, that at least there are people looking out for Billy, though, you almost want to shout his crimes so that you stop being treated so abrasively.

Billy had warned you that the Castles could be protective, that they'd like you once they got to know you.

You'd hoped that were true.

.

When Maria asks how you and Billy met during dinner, you both pause in horror as the answer comes to mind.

You let out a long sigh.

"We met a couple of years ago, at a Christmas party, my boyfriend at the time was working at Anvil." You say with a smile.

Maria nods eagerly in understanding. You can see how bad it looks.

"Alright," you say, finally having enough. Your fork clatters onto your plate and you watch Billy turn his head to you in alarm.

"Cards on the table. No, I'm not with him for his money- and I'm not pregnant either if any of you are thinking it. I like him. I like his stupid face and his stupid laugh and I feel safe around him and I never really had that before." You pause for a second, taking a sip of water before continuing.

"Sure, how we met wasn't the best, and how we got married was even worse, but I like him."

Billy reaches over, taking your hand in his, you glance up at him, your stomach tying into knots as you meet his eyes.

"He's my best friend." You finish.

You feel his hand squeeze yours.

Billy leans forward, his other hand cupping your cheek and hiding your mouths from view as he kisses you softly.

The entire table erupts into groans, mostly from both Franks and you can't help laughing into his kiss.

It lightens the mood though, and there's less tension in the air by the time dinner is finished. 

.

Everyone helps with cleaning up, and you find yourself drying dishes next to Maria while the rest of the family clear the table.

"He's not someone we'd ever thought could settle down." Maria murmurs.

You look up at her curiously.

She sees your confused expression and tries to explain.

"He's always just been so focused on himself, there were a lot of bad things about his childhood, and more in the military, and we just never thought he could be in a spot where he could live with someone. He tends to push people away after a while. Even us."

You look down, letting out a long sigh, wondering what you would do if he ever tried to push you away.

Accept it, you guess. What could you really do if he decided he didn’t want you anymore? Nothing.

“But don’t worry.” She interjects, you look up at her, eyes settling on her wicked scar for a second before you look down at your dish, “He likes you, he really does, maybe you did have a rough start, but I have faith in both of you.”

Your mouth pulls into a smile, you thank her for her kind words.

.

You play Jenga with them next, laughing and tickling Billy’s left side affectionately to distract him while he moves.

He grins, his hand remains remarkably steady while you torment him with your fingers. Everyone jeers, encouraging his loss, booing him when he manages to get the block on top of the tower without toppling it.

Your turn is next and you smile happily as you lean forward to make your move. You feel his hand on the small of your back, rubbing affectionately as you pick your piece. He doesn’t try to shake you or cheat like you did while you pull your piece out. The rest of the Castle family boo you in funny ways, and you have this moment of realisation that this is what family feels like.

When you get your wooden brick seated next to Billy’s, he kisses you on the temple, murmuring a ‘Good job, baby.’ into your ear in a low voice that has your body responding eagerly to him.

There’s a look that passes between you, something warm and electric, the silent guarantee that if you were alone right now, you’d be ripping at each other's clothes.

It’s Frank that drops the tower, after Maria whispers something into his ear quietly, and you smile at the way he looks at her in half betrayal and half adoration as everyone cheers for his loss.

You see it, you understand why these people are so important to him, the humanity inside each Castle is a unique thing, that makes the whole family unit just work so easily.

You’re glad to have met them, and you’re also sad when you have to bid them goodbye at the end of the night.

Maria hugs you both, Frank gives you an almost friendly pat on your shoulder. There’s a bittersweetness to it that you’ve barely felt before, a real family that you can be a part of, a promise to reunite soon that sparks hope inside of you.

You leave, hand in hand with Billy, a little bit happier than you were when you first arrived, feeling like you understood your husband just a little bit more.

.

In the car, he lets out a slow breath, tilting his head back. He’s in pain, you realise.

“My scar is starting to hurt.” he confesses, turning his head to look at you.

Your heart squeezes in your chest. 

“We’ll get you home and get some medicine into you, okay?” You say softly, leaning into him, till your nose rubs affectionately against his.

He nods, eyes drooping as he feels your hand move to cup the healing area of his abdomen over his shirt gently. He leans into you, resting his head into the crook of your neck, your other hand moving up to play with his hair.

You feel him sigh in bliss.

.

You tug your heels off so that you have better balance to support him, encouraging him to lean into you a little so that he’s in a little less pain while you get him up to your apartment.

His pain has worsened by the time you sit him in bed and rummage through your cabinet for his medicine. 

You get it to him first, making sure he finishes the glass of water you gave him before you begin taking his shoes off.

“You don’t have to-” He tries to sit up, “I can-” He grunts in pain when he curls forward too much.

You push him back gently, giving him a kiss to his forehead.

“Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You stroke his cheek with the backs of your fingers while you wait for him to respond.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

You tug his shoes off, and then undo his pants, giggling slightly when he struggles to lift his hips to help you.

You can’t help touching him, feeling over his thick thighs as they’re exposed to you. You kiss his happy trail when you see it, giggling when he groans.

“Tease.” He pouts.

You kiss his pout too.

Only after you strip him down to his boxers and carefully check his scar, do you tuck him into bed, moving to dress down for the night too. 

When you struggle for too long with the zipper, you sit on the edge of the bed beside Billy and ask him for help.

He kisses your exposed back when he gets the zip undone.

When you’re finally in your silky PJs, you slide into bed beside him, noticing that he’s still awake, but blinking slowly.

“Are you still in pain?” You ask, tilting your head to observe him.

“No pain.” He answers, “Groggy.”

You sigh in relief, sliding closer to him, till you’re pressed to his side. Your hand slides into his rough one, and you quietly enjoy the feeling of being next to him until he speaks.

“I’ve never had this.” Billy whispers. You raise your head to look at him, noticing how unfocused his eyes are, staring up at the ceiling, blinking slowly, as if to remind himself that he’s still awake.

“The old me would have never confessed to anyone that I was hurting.” 

He turns his head, glassy eyes focusing on you.

“But you… The way you fight for me makes me want to trust you more and more each time.” He swallows, “It’s scary.”

He raises a hand, cups your cheek and you can’t help leaning into him, closing your eyes in hopes that it puts him at ease, that he doesn’t feel stared at while he opens himself up to you.

“No one has ever taken care of me before. Not like you have. You look at me- and I- I mean something. You know?”

You open your eyes then, staring at him for a long moment, finding that your throat has closed up from your abundance of emotion.

“You mean a lot.” You whisper, your hand raising to cup his.

His eyes are glassy, almost on the brink of tears.

“I didn’t know.”

.

You’re in the kitchen making coffee two days after, scarily deep in thought. 

In the quiet of the morning you think about everything that’s happened. From Dominic dumping you to the despair you felt when your annulment request had been denied. You think about it all, and you think about your mother, whose call you had ignored yesterday after walking out of her house when you found out Billy was sick. 

You didn’t know how to approach her, or what you would say when she asked you the question she’d asked before.

Before you can think yourself into a downward spiral, an arm wraps itself around your waist. His hand is broad, spreading over your tummy and leaving warm tingles behind, his touch so comforting that you can’t help but smile and lean into him a little.

“Good morning, Mrs. Russo.” He grumbles softly, letting you know exactly what he thought of waking up alone in bed.

“What can I help you with, Mister Russo?” You tease, smiling as you both sway together.

There’s a moment of silence, filled only with the sounds of your shared breaths as you enjoy the presence of each other.

“I would like you to come back to bed. It’s a Saturday and you haven’t cuddled me for nearly long enough.”

You grin, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah? And what do I get if I come back to bed with you right now?”

He hums, nose pressing against your ear, one hand on your stomach and the other rising up to cup your jaw securely.

“I can think of many imaginative ways to thank you.” He murmurs, the heat of his breath tickling your ear gently.

It’s something you could never even think to dream of.

.

.

.

A/N: Sorry I've been so inactive... bad things have happened, just popping in to post this cause I don't want it to sit in my drafts for any longer.

[sophswritingthings]

hi love!! i was wondering if i could put in a request for a hazel callahan fic where reader is chronically ill and is in a bad flare up so she hasn’t been to school in a few days so hazel comes over to take care of her and there’s just lots of fluff and cuddling <333

pairing: hazel callahan x chronically ill!fem!reader

a/n: I went and did a little research, and I hope I do this justice babe <33 please enjoy!

summary: you’re going through a bad flare up; you haven’t been to school in a while. hazel, your girlfriend, shows up at your doorstep with essential oils and snacks.

word count: 1,047 words / 5,645 characters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hazel was standing at her locker, pulling books and a backpack out of the long blue storage unit of a closet.

you hadn’t been in school the last few days; she could assume why. she knew of your illness; it wasn’t a secret you kept. you weren’t embarrassed about it, by any means, it was part of what she loved about you so god damn much. your confidence, your positivity.. they were things she didn’t have all the time. she admired you. as both a partner and a friend.

she practically slammed her locker shut, turning away with her backpack hanging on by one strap on her shoulder. she headed outside the school, the frosty wind hitting her face. she sighed, sprinkles of snow dancing on her hair and eyebrows. you always loved the snow; shame you weren’t to see it with her.

an idea pricked her mind.. she wanted to see you so, so bad. but was it right to go to your house, if you weren’t feeling well? she'd texted you, but you hadn’t responded. not that she excepted you to!

yet she still desperately wanted to care for you and love on you as much as she could; if that would make you feel better. she would do anything to make that happen.

hazel headed back to her own house, slipping in the house just to brush right past her mom and go to her room. she tossed her backpack on her desk chair, flopping down on her bed. she stared at the celling for what felt like hours; to which it was really only, tops, maybe thirty minutes. 

her head was racing a million miles a minute. 

how much pain were you in? was she wasting time just sitting here, when she could be there with you, easing your pain?

she groaned, rubbing her heads over her eyes. she jumped up out of her bed, grabbing her backpack again. she piled lavender essential oils into the bag, turning to a basket full of snacks. your favorite snacks, might she add, that she kept in her room for when you came over.

she piled those into her bag, too, and slung it over her shoulder again. grabbing her phone, she shoved it into her hoodie. which she'd probably have to remove later anyways because she planned to give her hoodie to you.

she sped down the steps, right past her mom again—who attempted to talk to her, but she swiftly ignored her and headed right out the front door.

your house, was luckily, not far from hers. it was maybe a block down; so she just opted to walk rather than waste her cars gas. that shit was getting expensive, anyways.

once at your house, she gazed at your front door for a minute. plain white door with a black circle window; the glass stained with color which she knew was all you. 

she walked up to the door, knocking gently. 

when a woman who wasn’t you answered the door, she put on her best smile, in case this woman was a doctor or someone who had been checking on you—or worse—your mother.

“ah,” the woman tapped her fingers against the door. “your (y/n)’s girlfriend, right? hazel?”

“uh, yup! o-one and only,” she chuckled nervously, her grip tightening on her bag strap.

“breathe. I’m her older sister,” she laughed, moving aside to let hazel in. “she’s upstairs in her room. not feelin’ too well.”

“yeah… I assumed,” hazel sighed, thanking her and heading up the stairs. a door that was covered in swatches of paint read “(y/n)’s room” painted in glitter rainbows and stars. 

she smiled. she knocked with the back of her knuckles on the door, peering inside. the door wasn’t fully shut, cracked open a little—she assumed it was so people could check on you.

you were lying on your bed, your frame curled up against your pillows. your face was scrunched up in pain, your hair tied into a messy bun. your hands were straddling the pillow as if you were holding on for dear life. you had your headphones in, and couldn’t hear her.

“(y/n).. baby..?” she calls out to you, making your eyes open wide. you tug out your headphones, looking so relived to see hazel standing in your doorway. 

“hazel!” you smiled as bright as you could, your expression still pained yet very happy to see her.

“hi, honey,” she smiles back, slipping into your room. she closed the door behind her, dropping the bag beside your door. “not feelin’ the best, I guess?”

“y-yeah, not at all,” you flinch, your body squirming in pain, “took some pain meds.. did some exercise, I-it didn’t really help much.”

“would cuddles make you feel better?” she cocked her head a little, raising an eyebrow.

“much better,” you slowly open your arms, making a grabbing motion at hazel. 

she laughs at your gesture, tugging her black hoodie over her head. she’s left in a sports bra only; tossing the hoodie to you. you caught it with a smile, slipping it over your head.

she bent down to grab her back, dropping it beside the bed so you could reach it comfortably. she climbed in behind you, wrapping her arms tight around your waist. she held you close, pressing your back into her chest.

you plug your headphones back in, offering one to hazel. she does the same as you; pressing a kiss against your collarbone. she slowly and tenderly took your hand placing kisses from your hand to your arm. you were a beauty to be worshipped; and she would do just that for you.

“your too sweet, actually,” you chuckle, crunching on what looked to be a bag of pretzels. “how did I get so lucky, huh?”

she laughs back, pressing a soft kiss against your jaw. 

“how did you get so lucky?” she scoffs, “how did I get so lucky! i mean, look at you, and than look at me. I’m like a lowly peasant and your a fucking goddess.”

you snicker, “your not a peasant!” you pat her head. “if I’m a goddess.. well your a goddesses girlfriend, than. see? not a peasant.”

she nuzzled into your neck, closing her eyes in the warmth, “guess I am, huh…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[astridthevalkyrie]

The heroes have been through shit. They've been brutalized, to put it mildly. All of them have seen better days, and everyone who remains doesn't even get the chance to rest. With all the high security prisons being broken into and chaos littering the streets, healing and relaxing couldn't be farther from their minds.

But you'll be damned if you don't take advantage of every free second Keigo has for you.

And is it childish, to make out with him in an apartment that's messy from all the blankets tossed here and there, your laptop tossed aside on a chair with a half-written but scathing article on Stain's ideology, seated on your boyfriend's lap while he lounges back on the only free space available on your couch?

Yes, yes it is. You can't bring yourself to care.

"Ten more minutes," he mumbles into your mouth, but you bet you can make it eleven. The wet sounds his lips make every time they pull away from yours only to dive back in drive you absolutely insane in the best way.

Because you're trying to be sweet, because you're trying to be mindful, you finally pull away, gazing at him with a soft, appraising look.

Time is precious. You can't have him leave thinking that the only thing you miss about him is how good of a kisser he is.

So you press your lips to his forehead, and Keigo sighs, hands sliding down from your hips to your ass, squeezing to pull you in closer.

"Only ten minutes," you remind him in a whisper, licking your swollen lips before kissing a newly formed bruise on his cheek. You'd told him not to fight up close, to leave that to the pros who aren't trying to literally regrow their limbs. But Keigo's the hero. He's always been the hero, probably always will be. So you just try to keep the chiding to a minimum and focus on bandaging and soothing the injuries he comes home with.

Home. Home is here, you hope. This is where Keigo comes back to, and he's as greedy as you are, stealing moments that could definitely be spent doing other, more productive things. What's love if not an absolute waste of your time?

Your fingers ghost over the scar on his face, the one that starts above his mouth and travels well down to his neck. Keigo grunts as you press a kiss to that part of his skin too.

The two of you haven't discussed it. You didn't have anything to say, and if Keigo needed to confide in you, he would, just like he does with everything else.

And, it seems, this is the moment for it to come up. "Ugly, isn't it?" he jokes, bringing his hand up to slide his fingers against yours, pulling it away from the scar. "No more modeling for me."

A nasty feeling rears in you. It feels like hearing someone else insult him, and the defensive roar in your chest makes you want to fight fiercely, even if he himself is the offending party.

He notices it, your scowl. With a lopsided grin, he asks, "What?"

It's like he doesn't even know. How gorgeous everything about him is, his pupils that expand and slit depending on his mood, the burn marks still scattered on his face, and even his teeth, slightly crooked but white and sharp.

You hold his face in your hands and kiss him again, rough this time. Demanding. Angry.

One of his hands palms the side of your neck, reciprocating the kiss the best he can before pulling away, slightly breathless. "What's—"

"You're the most handsome guy in the world." Your cheeks burn a little saying something so openly, so bluntly. With a groan, you bury your face in his chest to conceal your embarrassed expression. You mean every word you say, but it doesn't mean you have to look him in the eyes for it.

Keigo laughs, actually laughs, mouth on your temple where you can feel his lips curve into a smile. "Glad you think so. I knew you were into the rugged type."

Sure. You appreciate ruggedness. Who doesn't? But you're not letting him escape the point so easily.

"If you wore glasses," you huff, "then I'd be into the nerdy type. And if you wore leather jackets, then I'd be into the biker type." Summoning up your courage, you heft yourself back up, stubbornly glaring into his eyes. "And if you liked straw hats, then I suppose I'd be super into cowboys."

Normally you'd see his feathers fluff up, but in their absence you pay more attention to his face, which freezes at your confession. His pupils dilate and his mouth falls open just slightly, staring at you like he can't fully believe that you're real.

Instead of backing down, you stare back, fists clenched into his shirt. The past few weeks have been so difficult for him, name, actions, secrets and faults exposed to the whole world. No wings. Keigo is changing, you know it. Experiencing a taste of freedom for the first time, as bitter as it may be. He might not be sure if you like this new version, but that's what you're trying to tell him—you like every single version of him, and you're going to prove it whenever you need to.

"Those are," he croaks, but his voice is choked up, "really outdated stereotypes."

"Yeah."

"And I love you." His heart is beating so fast under your touch that it speeds up your own. "Like, really fucking love you."

He meets you, this time, lips crashing onto yours as you kneel down. With a trill, he leans forward, letting you topple onto the couch, luckily not on top of anything but scattered cushions, as his body covers your own and his lips press kiss after kiss to your lips, your jaw, your neck.

"How much time do we have left now?" you wonder, breath caught in your throat.

"Dunno." He doesn't even bother looking up to check. "Forever, for all I care."

[magicxc]

Square Up

Pairings: Survey Corps x Reader - things they do that annoy you

Word Count: 1029

Warnings: none

A/N: You know what really grinds my gears? When people are cruising on the road at 8am. Bitch move over, I’m literally late for work 😭 

Lol that being said, here’s some everyday routines where I think the guys would be most annoying. 

Headcannons Masterlist

Eren - leaves the big pot to soak.

You’re thankful for the help you really are, but you’d be even more thankful if Eren didn’t half ass the job. Albeit some of those food stains are really stubborn and just refuse to move, but every time? Not even! One day you had put on a pot of water to bring some potatoes to a boil, eager to stuff your face with the fluffy goodness of your handmade garlic mashed potatoes. And sure enough when dinner was long gone there the pot sat atop the stove, unwashed, because it needed “to soak.” You get it, Eren hates doing the dishes but you might actually cry the day you walk into the kitchen and meet the sink empty. You've complained about it on occasion but truth be told it doesn't bother you as much as it used to. He's even gotten creative and started hiding the pots in the oven and you can't help but giggle, closing the door so as to keep his "secrets" hidden.

Levi - adds water to the empty soap bottle to make it last longer.

Levi lives a somewhat frugal lifestyle and it has everything to do with his upbringing. Thankfully he’s a lot less stingy than he used to be, but this habit in particular has been the hardest to kick; and you just about pull your hair out every time. It's not even like there's not enough soap to spare. It's mostly him getting the most use out of the lingering soapy particles as he can. Surely it no longer serves its protective purposes, no matter how sudsy the results are? You've  since learned to keep an extra bottle of personal soap in the cabinets for such a time, bringing it to the countertops once Levi has exhausted all efforts with the previous one. 

Erwin - loud eater.

It’s not even an Erwin thing to be honest, it’s a people thing. Slurpers, suckers, gulpers, they can all get it. Cause why? The only people who can actively change the way they eat are the open mouthers, so you don't even waste your time with the Commander. Some background noise on the tv or radio can help you through most meals, but it doesn't stop your skin from crawling at the idea or pause in noise volume. 

Connie - leaves a swig of juice left in the carton. 

This one blows literal steam out of your ears because what was even the point. If an 8 ounce glass of orange juice was just poured and there’s 2 ounces left, just finish the damn thing. You’ve heard excuses ranging from he didn’t want to because then he’d feel bad for not leaving you any to he simply wasn't thirsty enough the last gulp; but none of those ever make it better. Connie still does this but makes an extra effort to hide the carton in the deepest part of the fridge for when he’s ready to finish its contents. 

Jean - revs his engine loud as hell.

At first you thought it couldn't be helped until one day you had to borrow Jeans car to run a few errands. Then it all clicked. This mf wants to be seen. He wants people to know it's his engine with all that horsepower beneath the hood. He wants any chance he has to show off his sleek ride that he’s worked so hard for. Unfortunately it's all at the expense of your eardrums and now you only ride with Jean out of necessity. When you do ride with him, however, you make sure to roll all the windows up, not that it helps much.

Onyankopon - uses all the hot water after a shower. 

While it is annoying you don't mind this one so much during the summer time or the night time. But it just about drives you nuts in the morning and during the winter months because not only are you now running late for work waiting for some hot water to kick in but if it doesn't in time, now you have to suffer through a cold and uncomfortable shower. You've since started looking up the benefits of a cold shower but none of them has outweighed your comfort. So you've started showering before him, dashing into the bathroom as soon as you even think he's about to get in there.

Reiner - sets his alarm but never hears it. 

This one really does you in. You're not the lightest sleeper but you can definitely hear when an alarm is non stop ringing. You sometimes envy the deep sleep that Reiner manages to engulf himself in but then slowly remember that it's borderline dangerous. The only reason you don't throw a bitch fit is because y’all have similar work schedules, so the alarm also works in your favor. But he's definitely gotten the occasional pillow to the face or slap to the arm; not that he ever feels it.

Armin - gotta take a pic of every meal.

It's all about presentation with Armin. You can cook a pot of ramen noodles and he’d grab his camera if you fixed it up nice. Y'all are at dinner and the waiter brings the food by? Can't dig in until he has the perfect shot. Usually you don't mind, but his perfect shot takes at least four different angles and your stomach gets louder by the minute. You haven't found a way around this one just yet, so you instead endure the torture.

Floch - watches his tv with the volume level on ignorant. 

Why must the house sound like a surround sound movie theater you’ll never know. Action movies you understand. You'll even bite for thrillers. But anything else? It’s definitely up for debate. You can literally step outside on the curb of the street and still hear the entirety of the movie playing. You assume the loud noise is so he can submerge himself in the plot of the film but you’re running out of different ways to tell him to turn that shit down. The new rule now is nothing on the screens past 7pm if he can't watch it at regular volume.

Tags - @eveningatthemoviesnetwork

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Rules of the Harem

Y/N lives a life not many women can say they have: she spends her days in a luxurious, gothic mansion with America's hottest gang of freaks at her beck and call. Now, how on earth did all of this begin?

Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Reader, Chris Pontius X Fem!Reader, Steve-O X Fem!Reader, Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

(Fluff)

2.7k Words

Warnings: Extremely suggestive content, alcohol, friends to lovers, friends with benefits, drug use, injury, heavily implied sexual content, threesomes, premature ejaculation

An: Hello! This fic was inspired by this post by one of my friends, @xxxmargeraxxx! I couldn’t get this concept out of my head, no matter how hard I tried, and I think this has enough potential to become a series! Anyways, thank you so much for sending in requests, and please keep them coming!! :)

Upon hearing rumors of your living arrangements, people usually ask you one of two questions: ‘why would you do that to yourself?’ or ‘how the hell did all of this start?’. The former was pretty easy to answer- you liked it, however unconventional it seemed to others. You were like Hugh Hefner, only instead of living in the Hollywood Hills, your mansion was situated practically on the sand of the sunny, Miami coastline. The only other difference between the two of you was that instead of having flocks of girls in tiny satin one-pieces and bunny ears, you got your pick of the gaggle of half naked dudes running around your house. The latter question, however, that one’s a little trickier.

It started when, one day, out of the blue, one of your buddies from way back asked if he could crash for a week or two- said he was filming something in Florida and staying at your place would be cheaper than getting a hotel, which you happily obliged to because A: he was right and B: friends let friends sleep at their houses, especially when they have six guest rooms. You hadn’t seen him in a while, anyways- why not take the time to catch up a little? That night, over a few drinks, Johnny let you in on what he was working on - this pilot for MTV he was making with Jeff and Chris and the rest of the guys from that magazine he was writing for. “Hell, they don’t even know i’m here!” He chuckled, jabbing a thumb behind him, “Told ‘em I was stayin’ at the Motel 6 down the road.” You cracked a grin at his lie, sitting back in your patio chair as the blue light from the pool cascaded over the two of you. “When d’you gotta be up tomorrow?” Johnny shrugged, taking a swig of his beer, “Noon. As long as I get back there ‘round then, they won’t suspect a thing!”

So for the rest of the evening, you and Johnny went back and forth, talking for hours. He told you that they were going to meet this professional clown guy named Steve-O tomorrow who works with this flea market circus and who always gets great footage (or at least, really liked lighting himself on fire), and later that month they were flying out to Pennsylvania of all places to film with this professional skateboarder whose name you couldn’t quite remember given that you were pretty damn wasted by that point in the night. And as the evening went on, the topic of relationships came up, and you drunkenly relented to your best friend that the single life was torture. If you could die from not getting dick, you were on your last legs. Despite your dramatics, Johnny could sympathize with that- all those weeks on the road were wearing him pretty thin, he told you, looking at you from under those half lidded eyes which you couldn’t tell if they had grown that dark from exhaustion or desire. He cleared his throat, making eye contact with you, “Y’know, maybe there’s a solution that could help both’a us out…” Johnny proposed nonchalantly, “It’s just what friends do, y’know?”

Waking up in the same bed as your best friend made you realize something. Looking at the way the sunlight filtered in through the open, floor to ceiling antique stained glass windows made the tan muscles of his back just glow as he lay half-asleep, tangled up in your silk sheets made you realize how much you really liked having a man in your bed- not just any man, but him. And after a few moments he stirred a little, sat up with a tired groan, and then offered to cook you breakfast. Yep. That’s how your friendship with Johnny turned into a friends-with-benefitship.

Johnny didn’t return to Miami until after that pilot thing aired. Not only did they get the show picked up, but MTV wanted another season, and that meant more filming. The evening he flew in, he called you to meet up with him and the rest of his buddies from the show (minus those guys from Philadelphia- their flight was delayed till tomorrow) at this rinky-dink little shithole bar. But he didn’t introduce you as the lady who’s house he stays at and who he occasionally fucks- you were just Y/N. His awesome lady friend Y/N who lives in a mansion and has a pool- something that couldn’t be said about the hotel they were set up at, and that piqued Chris’ interest. It was the dead of summer in Florida, after all, and nothing feels better after a long day of banging yourself up than a nice cool swim. So when he asked to stop by sometime, you were eager to invite him over the next day they were off from shooting.

Peering out from your open kitchen window that afternoon Chris visited, you could barely believe what was happening. There you had two very attractive young men, one of which you were definately going to screw later, lounging around your pool in their swimsuits without a care in the world, all sun kissed and glistening. That’s the moment your idea of what you wanted changed- don’t get me wrong, you still lusted after Johnny like no tomorrow, but there was something with the idea of having more than one man to pick from that stirred something in you. It also helped that you were really into Chris’ whole long haired surfer dude thing he had going on- he was like a big, perverted golden retriever, and you weren't ashamed to say that you went for the dumb, jockish ones. Maybe you had him over for more than just wanting to help him cool off a little, but it’s not like you could blame yourself- he was right there. So as you finished whipping up the batch of strawberry daiquiris you were in the kitchen to make in the first place, you thought up a damn genius plan. And, taking a deep breath, you strutted out onto the pool deck in your little swimsuit with drinks in hand, sitting down at the edge of the pool deck to dangle your legs in the water right in front of Chris. Leaning forward, you asked him in flirtiest tone you could muster, “How’d you feel about stayin’ the night?”

Grinning, Chris took the drink you handed him and chuckled at your flirting, “Sure!” As you sat back with your own frosty drink, Johnny eyed you from the other side of the pool, his expression difficult to read due to those sunglasses that never left his face. You knew he wasn't the jealous type, but there was a distinct curiosity to his body language as he watched you (his friend) flirt back and forth with Chris (his other friend). As Chris started spending more and more time around the house, you discovered he had a talent for making you feel like the most perfect woman in the world, and not even just with his words or compliments. Whenever you’d walk in the room, he would just smile and look you up and down and give you that cute, sexy look. And you’d pinch his cheek and he’d laugh that dopey stoner laugh and it was just so sweet- he had this way of just anticipating whatever you needed to hear at a given moment.

So like that, the one guy you were screwing that night turned into two guys, and the next morning, before they slipped off to join back up with the rest of the crew, you let them know that they could come by anytime. Johnny and Chris told you they would be more than happy to stop by and pay their favorite girl a visit, and you felt a strange sense of pride at what you had. Sure, the arrangement was a little unconventional, but it was undeniably yours. Not to mention, you had something to look forward to. Pontius let it slip last night during pillow talk after Knoxville was out cold that they were starting work on a movie, and the two of them would certainly need a place to stay.

Filming for a movie is a lot different than filming for a tv show, namely that you have more time off. There would be days at a time where it would just be you, Chris, and Johnny at your beck and call, sitting around or doing whatever they felt like around the house until you gave them a wave of your hand and gave one of them an order: “Chris, honey- can you draw me a bath?” “Johnny, do you think you could rub my back?” “Both of you, meet me in my bedroom in five!” And they were both eager to jump at whatever you had in mind.

You know how Johnny was real discreet about what he and you got up to behind closed doors and the conditions your relationship operated on? Well, while he meant well, Chris just didn’t have it in him to keep secrets, especially from his best buddy Steve-O who he knew would just love this super sweet rich lady Knoxville was hanging out with. Once he started showing up (completely unannounced, by the way), you didn’t really say anything because you didn’t mind his presence and entertaining antics- what with all the jumping off of surfaces and lighting himself on fire. And you didn’t have to worry about Steve’s performance in bed not measuring up to that of the other two because he barely even made it to the bed in the first place. Sure, occasionally try to join you and Chris, but after taking about three steps into the room, he’d just stop for a second, turn around, and walk back where he came from, muttering to himself, “I’m out...” But that isn’t to say he wasn’t affectionate- in fact, due to his tendency to get his boxers glued to his left leg before the clothes came off, Steve compensated in other ways. If you weren't knocked out in bed with Johnny or Chris at the end of the night (or hell, even if you were), he would jump in under the covers next to you, wrapping those wiry arms of his around your waist and pulling you close to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. As unappealing as it may sound, you never slept better than with Steve, that ole’ cuddle bug.

However, as the days went on, you found yourself spending more of your time with the guys outside of the bed rather than in it. As you wandered around the mansion grounds, you took note of what you usually caught them doing because, after all, they would be staying with you for a while and you wanted to know how to keep your men happy. Johnny was easy, usually lazing around on the red velvet chaise lounge that sat in your living room while watching tv or nursing whatever fresh injury he got on set that week with a bag of frozen peas. You’d plop down on the couch next to him and idly chat about whatever was going on on Tv, while Chris was often found on your rooftop sun deck, working out and getting all bronze up there- a sight you never got tired of. Steve, on the other hand, really made it a struggle to keep track of him. He was all over the place, just sorta lurking around or high off of whatever he could get his hands on if he wasn’t attempting some ridiculous stunt. On the off occasion you could actually find him, he was usually sat slumped over against the wall or arch or column, and as you’d walk by, he’d chuckle a little or lay his head against your leg like some weird family dog. In fact, the four of you really were like a big, happy, kinda fucked up family.

Eventually, Bam started getting curious about where the hell those three kept screwing off to, but he never got a straight answer from Chris or Knoxville when he pressed them about it. On the other hand, Steve was more than happy to vividly describe that smokin’ hot rich lady Pontius introduced him to who lets them stay at her huge ass mansion in exchange for, get this- them letting her fuck them whenver she wants. It’s basically a porno set-up. You can kind of see how the words got twisted as they wound through the grapevine? But, of course, that sounded like a dream to Bam, and he just had to get in on that.

So he stood there on your doorstep in his swim trunks and t-shirt because he wanted to at least pretend he was coming for that pool he’s heard so much about. And god, when you opened the door you could hear his jaw hit the doormat. Bam knew you were hot before he showed up but, Jesus- this lady was hot. He was never one to be nervous around chicks, but you left him speechless. “Are you, uh- are you Y/N?” Sure, you’d never met the guy who was standing on your doorstep before, and it wasn't typical of you to invite strangers into your home, but you found the way he looked at you with those big ole’ eyes kinda cute. A plan started to form in your mind and you decided to mess with him a little, “Mmhm.” At that point, the guys had started to take notice of what was happening and started gathering around behind you to watch the show. Bam still tried to sound all cool and confident as he rambled, “I'm a friend’a Knoxville’s- you know, the skater one? He’s probably brought me up before.” That’s the guy? Leaning against the doorframe, you checked him out, “So you’re Bam, right?” He nodded quickly and you cracked a grin, “Well, we’ve gotta rule around here.” From behind you, Johnny raised his eyebrows and gave him a nod as you gestured with one hand, “No shirts for guys. So…” Bam blinked in delete if for a moment as he realized shit, this woman was serious. But all the other guys in the house were fully dressed? Ah, fuck it. Bam tugged off his shirt. Part of him didn’t wanna give in too quickly, but damn it, he just couldn’t get over the way you were looking him up and down like that- not that he would admit how much it got to him.

After you invited him in, that’s when things started getting fun. See, Bam was really eager for you to like him- and I mean really eager, so he spent the entire time trying to impress you. Like when everyone was sitting around the pool drinking or idly swimming, he’d ‘accidently’ flex his muscles while toweling off directly in your line of sight, or if you so much as mentioned that you were thirsty, he’d go running to grab you a drink from the cooler. You weren't in the market for a servant boy, but Bam’s restless pursuit of your attention was endearing, and you wouldn’t mind having something like that around the house. Sitting next to you on the other pool lounge chair, Johnny leaned over to whisper in your ear, “If I were you, Y/N, I’d keep an eye on him. Seems like he’s just dyin’ for your attention.” He certainly would liven things up around the place. It’d be like having a puppy around, only with less leg humping. Oh hell, he’d probably do that too if you gave him the word.

And that’s how everything came together. Now every time Jackass came to Florida to film, your house would be filled with life and chaos and all the men you could stomach for a few glorious weeks. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. Sure, there would be some hiccups along the way, and rules eventually had to be made, but we’ll get into those at a later time. For now, you had a new addition to your little menagerie, and you knew exactly how you wanted to celebrate the occasion.

[bitchfitch]

idk my stained glass post is going around again and a lot of people are saying it's inspiring them but they're still hesitant to start whatever craft has their fancy rn, so here's a dipshit's guide to getting from horsey to whale when you're starting out a craft

Step 1: skim a tutorial.

don't take notes, don't pay all that much attention to it, give it like. at max 10 minutes of your time. Just get the general shape of the process into your head along with any relevant safety precautions.

the point of doing this is to stop yourself from forming expectations. Expectations are the motivation killer. Strangle them to death.

Step 2: Tool time

You may want to start right in on a project, you might even have one in your head already.

Don't. Stop that, see the point above about expectations. Your first project is going to suck major nuts, it doesn't matter what you do, so you simply must plan to make your first project as nut-sucktastic as physically possible. Burry your expectations so deep in the ground that you will leap over them by simply faceplanting.

So here's what you do instead, gather the necessary tools and materials then set aside an amount of material that you are ok with just pissing away. just absolutely wasting. If you went right in and got discouraged enough to drop a project while doing it, youd be wasting the materials anyway. Might as well get the wasting over and done with Before it eats hours of your mortal life.

Ok, now pick the first tool and associated skill involved in your new craft and just practice That. Don't try to make anything, just learn the motions and teach yourself how things move or break or bend or etc etc etc. all the real basic boring parts that don't produce anything.

Then move onto the next steps associated skills and tools. Connect them back to the product you got from practicing the first step if you can, then the third and so on, so that at the end of this ordeal you too can have a horrible abomination you can pretend looks like a horse.

Step 3: nap

With that done, fuck off and do something else for a bit. like for at Least a few hours if not a full day. Take a nap. do some drugs, play a hentai gatcha game, fuck if I care man. Just don't do the craft. This is the best way to kill expectations: fuckin forgetting what you're capable of.

step 4: learn it right this time

Actually watch/read that tutorial now. like. for real. give it your full atten and take notes on where you fucked up and how you struggled back in step two. like actual written/typed notes. You're going to be focusing on those areas and having a neat list to keep thing orderly in your head can help.

at this point it's also a good idea to try to find other tutorials that explain the Thing, but have a different person explaining it. or tutorials that are more granular. like ones that talk about the skills involved in a single step instead of the whole process. having that little bit more detail can be a game changer.

step 5: visualization

Come up with the easiest and most basic project you can think of while referring to that list of areas you struggled. You want this project to primarily focus on those weak spots and give you room to practice and improve them. ok. and now scrape the top 10% off the project. Make it easier make it smaller, make it less detailed, find a pattern instead of making your own, whatever just simplify it that little bit more.

Step 6: just do it

actually do that project while referring to your tutorials and notes.

Let yourself fuck up. Let yourself waste shit. And then move on. Don't get tangled in expectations, or let your perfectionism strangle you. Look it in the eye and strangle it back, make your shit uglier just to spite it.

Skills take time to develop. Give yourself that time and don't let your brain issues take the joy of creation from you. It's fuckin hard, but you've Got to do it if you want a modicum of happiness in this hell world. the vibe is Cognitive Behavioral Therapy but done with pure violence and vitriolic hatred of what your own neurosis are trying to take from you.

step 7: aw shit it's a never ending cycle

repeat step 5, but go for something a bit harder, then step six until you find a new muse to start over at step 1 with.

[driflew]

I would love to see some blindsided au scenes if you have any 👀

the part of blindsided that's posted on ao3 was actually repurposed from a one shot about Ren and dreams/nightmares. in the ao3 version i rewrote the end and cut it short, but in the go version there were a few more scenes that went thru the entire timeline from ren's time on the ship to after he's recognized who "the captain" actuallyy is

here's the last line of the ao3 version that matches the OG version and then the rewritten / withheld scenes

If there’s a god out there, Ren hopes He’ll tell Martyn how sorry he is.

The thing is, it almost works. Ren hardly leaves his room, and when he does, he stays within the manor. Much of his staff leaves in that time, and of those left, he fires almost all. 

The criteria is simple. Anyone whose whereabouts the night the box appeared he can’t ascertain beyond reasonable doubt, he sends away. 

The staff consists of a few cooks, a few gardeners, a few maids, a few aides. Most of his attendants leave on their own—no one wants to be seen near Ren. 

Despite the small staff, the manor workload gets lighter. Ren’s life ends the same day Martyn’s does. 

It’s fear that drives him. They took his body, after all—there is nothing Ren fears more than receiving another piece. 

It keeps him in bed. It keeps him awake. He won’t risk anything, not a toe out of line. He cows entirely, and it doesn’t save him. Every night, he sees it—a box on his bed, his hands reaching without his input, something staring back. 

—

It takes a few months for sympathy to dry up. Ren’s back to doing only the bare minimum, running his estate and only his estate—staying exactly in his own lane. He hears his little staff whispering about it, though. About how it was bad, sure, but really, he’s supposed to be a duke. He can’t lie in bed moping forever. At this rate, they may as well give the title to someone else, someone less… fragile. 

That would mean losing the manor, though. Losing their home, losing the place Martyn spent all his life. Losing the dream he and Martyn made together. 

So Ren climbs out of bed. He gets dressed all on his own, dries his face, and vows not to let Martyn’s life have been wasted on him. 

He has no choice. 

—

It’s fear that drives him. Ren is afraid all the time. Afraid he’ll lose his home. Afraid he’ll waste Martyn’s life by not doing enough. Afraid he’ll receive another box by doing too much. 

But Ren can’t be afraid. Not where anyone can see him. 

So Ren is angry all the time. 

They call him ruthless, volatile, cold as ice. He doesn’t think that’s fair—he’s never sent anyone a severed limb. But if they think he’s ruthless, maybe they’ll think twice before crossing him. Maybe if he’d been cold then…

He burns, constantly, fire seering at his heels to keep him running ever forward. There’s no safe place to rest, and so he won’t. 

His dreams make sure of that. 

Ren wakes up gasping, hands curled tight around something that isn’t real. Sometimes it’s an eye, sometimes it’s not. A finger, a hand, a tongue. A head, one socket empty, the other bright and intelligent and looking right at him—

He doesn’t think he’s dreamed of anything but that box for a year after he opens it. They die down a bit, but return every time Ren is stressed. 

Ren is stressed all the time. 

Tired, too, absolutely exhausted, not that it helps him get any sleep. He works in his office to avoid it, staying up late into the night managing this or that until he sees deeds and bills behind his eyelids instead. 

—

He wants to move beds, but how could he? This was Martyn’s, too, was once the place he felt safest. He can’t leave it, even if it features so prominently in the worst moment of his life. 

Hiding under their blankets like it’ll protect him, Ren has to wonder. What would Martyn think of him now? 

He’ll never know, but the eye changes. He dreams of pity, an eye floating in a bottle of sympathetic tears. He dreams of accusation, bloody fingerprints staining the glass. He dreams of scorn, an eye that won’t even look at him. He dreams of love, rarely. 

—

Theirs is not the bed he’s taken from, at the least. 

No, King Ren is stolen from the castle, so as to be sure he never feels safe in any place he could conceivably consider home.

—

Ren sits on the deck of the ship, kneels at the feet of the Captain. When he looks up at the man who has stolen him from his new home, he finds himself eye level with a coat he knows very well. 

The Captain speaks of assassination, then of ransom. Promises not to hurt the King, so long as he can get money for his life. 

Ren wants to scoff, but he doesn’t. The only man who would have paid for his life is long dead, and the Captain wears a trophy of his murder tied around his waist. 

Ren knows fear. He knows how to bury it, too, how to smother it in so much anger it boils him alive in his own bubbling, frothing blood. 

He is so beyond the point of being afraid for his worthless, meaningless life. If he can make the Captain bleed, then it will all have been worth it. 

—

(Ren does not sleep. The only man who would have paid his ransom is dead—soon they will realize, and soon he will die. He’s sure of it. He locks the door to his pathetic facsimile of a sanctuary and hopes every single night that tonight will not be the night they notice.)

(Ren does not sleep until he cannot stay awake a moment longer.)

—

The Captain stands in front of him, a box in hand. 

“I’ve got a gift for you,” he says, holding it out. Ren recognizes the box, but takes it anyway, his hands so far out of his control. 

“You know,” he says, amusement in his voice, watching Ren with one cruel eye, “I’m always looking out for you.” 

He smiles as Ren’s hand moves to the top of the box against his will, stepping forward when Ren’s hands hesitate on the latch. He guides Ren’s hands to open it, puppeting numb fingers. 

“You’re lucky,” he says, “That I like to keep things like this.”

Ren looks down. There’s a heart, thumping quietly, pulsing to the same rhythm rushing in Ren’s own ears. He doesn’t need to be told who it belongs to. He knew the moment he saw the box. 

“Don’t be shy, your majesty. Take it,” The Captain says, voice sickly sweet, “I know you’ve always wanted it.” 

Ren wakes up gasping. It sounds so loud in the cramped closet, but he can’t make himself calm down. His heart beats so fast he thinks it might kill him, and the awareness of his pulse is enough to send him falling out of his hammock. 

—

Impulse finds him in their storage the next morning, looking in every large box for something he won’t explain. The Captain simply sighs, sends him back up top, and asks his crew to be sure to lock the hatches. 

— 

Ren approaches the bed slowly. The box on the covers is longer than Ren is tall, broader than Ren’s shoulders. It takes up most of the bed, which sinks under the weight of it. His hands reach for the familiar latch without his input, not that he’d fight—he’s long since learned it isn’t worth it. 

The lid is light—it’s only ever been flimsy packaging. He pushes it with no effort at all, peering down into the box. 

It’s full of glass cases and jars. Ren’s eyes roam over them with horror, but he knows what’s in all of them. It’s the rest, it’s—

“Ren? Hey, Ren wake up,” there’s a hand on Ren’s shoulder, shaking him awake. “Open your eyes. Can you do that for me?”

Ren complies. Martyn is sitting above him, hair hanging around his face. Ren meets his eye—he’s staring at Ren with undisguised concern. 

Ren follows the line of his scar down his face and to his chest, where it disappears into his loose shirt. 

“Uh,” Martyn clears his throat, “While I don’t mind you staring, you seemed to be having a bad dream.” 

“Do you know what happened to your eye?” Ren asks, “The other one. The one you lost.” 

“Uh?” Martyn blinks the one he has left. “Can’t say I do, no.” 

“Oh,” Ren says. 

“Why?” Martyn asks, then grins, teasing, “Did you want it?” 

Ren isn’t sure what his face does at that, but Martyn’s smile vanishes, and he’s rolling away from Ren to get out of bed entirely, leaving Ren to sit up and stare after him. Before Ren can ask him to come back, he’s returned, this time with his trash bin in hand and under Ren’s mouth. 

A beat passes. Martyn retracts the bin. 

 “You just. Looked like you were going to be sick,” Martyn says, setting it down. “It’s… We’ve only got the one bed, and it’s really hard to do wash out at sea.” 

Ren snickers as Martyn climbs back into bed, sitting at Ren’s side. 

“Did my eye have something to do with whatever you were dreaming about?” Martyn asks. Ren nods. 

“I don’t think you could have said anything worse,” Ren admits. 

“Why?” Martyn asks, “What, don’t tell me you already had it.”

Again, Ren isn’t sure how he reacts, though he’s sure by the way Martyn pales that he sees right through Ren’s attempt to keep his face straight. 

Seems even all his years walling himself off weren’t enough to keep his Hand from reading him like he’s made of glass. 

“You’re kidding,” Martyn says. Ren shakes his head. 

“They wanted to send a message. Prove you were dead,” Ren says, “I received it loud and clear.” 

“So they sent you my eye?” Martyn asks. Ren shrugs, looking away. 

“Hey, at least I didn’t bury an entirely empty casket,” Ren offers. Martyn laughs. 

“Sure. Grave just for my eye. Was it in a little casket, too?” 

Ren snickers despite himself, leaning his head against Martyn’s shoulder. 

“No. I got you a really nice casket. Best money could buy,” Ren says. His smile fades, and he turns his attention downward, picking at his nails, “I wanted everything to be perfect. Even if you weren’t going to use it.” 

“Yeah. I was too busy for that. Maybe next time,” Martyn says. Ren punches him in the arm, however weakly. All Martyn does in response to that is lift it, wrapping his arm around Ren’s shoulders.

“Next time I’m getting you a worse casket. Not going to spend all that money if you’re not even going to be there,” Ren says. Martyn laughs. 

“Hmm, well that’s not going to work. I’m a powerful man, you know—I can’t be buried in a lame casket,” Martyn says, “You’ll have a nice one, won’t you? Maybe next time I’ll just squeeze into yours.” 

Martyn squeezes Ren’s shoulders as he says it, crushing Ren closer to his chest. Ren laughs, turning his face to press his nose into Martyn’s neck. 

“Yeah, I think that’s what I’ll do. Can’t leave you alone for a second,” Martyn decides, moving his arm down to Ren’s back. He snakes his hand up Ren’s shirt, lining his fingers up against the side of Ren’s ribcage. He smooths an arc with his thumb on Ren’s skin, warmth and movement to remind Ren he’s as real and alive as Ren himself. 

“If you want to talk about it, though…” Martyn adds, “The dream or the, uh. Eye.” 

He wrinkles his nose on the last word, making Ren laugh again. 

“That grossed you out? What kind of pirate are you?” Ren asks. 

“What is that supposed to mean? I’ve cut people’s tongues out for— It’s weird when it’s your own eye, alright?” Martyn says. 

“Sure, sure. I guess your eye did look kind of weird,” Ren says. 

“Wh— Hey!” Martyn says, “I’ll have you know, I have beautiful eyes. Even when they’re not in my skull.” 

“I don’t know. It was pretty…” Ren trails off, humor fading. He bites his lip, focusing on the feeling of Martyn’s hand against his skin. “…Traumatizing.” 

“I gathered that, yeah.” 

Ren smacks him in the leg. 

“You’re genuinely impossible,” Ren says, “I don’t understand why I mourned you so bad. Maybe it was head trauma from when I fainted.” 

“You fainted?” Martyn asks. Ren shrugs. 

“Apparently. I don’t actually remember any of it. I opened the box, and my memory just kind of stops,” Ren admits. 

“Sounds lucky, honestly,” Martyn says, “Like you dodged a bullet.” 

“Hardly,” Ren scoffs, “Didn’t stop me from dreaming about it. And I thought they had your body, so there was always the chance they could just. You know.” 

“What? Send you more?” Martyn asks, “Maybe then I would have used your whole fancy casket.” 

Ren smacks him again. 

“You’re the worst,” Ren laughs, “But I did think of that. I just knew you’d say something like that.” 

Martyn wraps both his arms around Ren’s middle then, tugging, pulling Ren into his lap. He leans his chin on Ren’s shoulder, pressing the unscathed side of his face to Ren’s. He prefers to keep Ren on his good side—though Ren would love to cover Martyn’s blind side, Martyn says he’s depriving Martyn of his favorite view. 

“But you missed me,” Martyn says, moving his hand out of Ren’s shirt to rest on Ren’s chest.

“Maybe,” Ren says. He sighs. “I just… thought I’d stop dreaming about it, now that I know you’re fine, but I didn’t.” 

“Have you been dreaming about it the whole time?” Martyn asks. Ren shakes his head. 

“I mostly didn’t dream about anything, but I’ve had a few nice dreams,” Ren says, “I guess I just thought it was gone forever.” 

“Well,” Martyn says, “If you have that dream again, and I’m not the one who woke you, you can always wake me up, and I’ll prove to you that I haven’t lost any other body parts.”

“Right,” Ren says, “…Thank you.”

“Anytime, my liege,” Martyn kisses the side of his head, and Ren feels him smile against his skin, “Say, if you ever want to check that everything really is all there—”

Ren elbows him, though it doesn’t stop Martyn laughing. Despite his pretending at annoyance, Ren tilts his head back, leaning into the sound.