#and i opt to stay and help bc i can

[moeblob]

Ya know what? Quick story time.

I've been stressed at my new job (it's the anxiety I'm afflicted with more than anything) and I don't have much of a backbone and setting boundaries in person. I'm a doormat. This leads to not leaving om time or asking to leave on time... and staying an hour and a half past once and three hours past another time.

So my shift today was supposed to end at 3, and someone else was arriving at 3. Sounds fine cause she showed up! But! It was just her and suddenly like 4 cars arrived for pick up... and as I'm in the online pick up department.... I'm not just gonna leave the person who walked through the door ten seconds prior with all that to run out to cars. That's just mean.

So one car in particular I'm taking the order to was a very nice lady who helped me put the order in the car and I was like "ok that's not quite all of it! I have more I couldn't fit om here but I'll be right back" and so I rush back in and out and she helps again. I commented on one of her packs of soda, the 7up Shirley Temple edition, and how I Really wanted to try it. She doesn't hesitate and goes "if I give you a can, that's OK right? Like I paid for it so you can have one so you can test it! That way you know whether you'd want a 12 pack of your own".

At this point I'm 30 minutes past my out time and I'm just stunned. She just gives me a can of soda and says "oh the back area must be cold, the can feels chilled enough to drink without a fridge" and im just. Thanking her and she acts like it's no big deal but it was such a genuinely happy response to share something with me.

And it really made me feel better??

This woman's gut instinct to someone commenting on a drink flavor is to hand them a can and say "now you'll know if you like it!"

By the way, yeah, it was /really good/ actually.

[always-just-red]

hihihi! sylus girlie here. as a college student i often never take breaks whenever im working and often stay up late finishing up assignments. then i stress out but never tell anyone and suffer in silence:’) i was wondering if you could do something similar with sylus x mc where mc often forgets to take breaks at the hunters association and is always the first the volunteer for missions so she could improve.

but then it’s starting to take a toll on her and is so so stressed, but feels bad about venting to someone or saying no to new missions.

maybe one day she’s doing a simple task like cooking herself dinner (or something) but accidentally burns herself and she just ends up breaking down and decides to call sylus and he immediately goes to her. :’)

feel free to decline or change anything! i just like the thought of someone comforting u when ur overworked and stressed bc i wish someone would do that to me lol.

Fast-tracked this one for you, anon! I'm really sorry you're having a tough time right now, and I hope this brings you a bit of comfort- remember, Sylus would want you to take care of yourself! Good luck with all your studies, and feel free to send in another request if ever you need it! 🥰

Technical Difficulties

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You're not very good at asking for help when you're struggling. Thankfully? You don't always need to.

Genre: fluff + comfort ft. a very domestic Sylus!

Warnings/Additional tags: stressed reader (has a lil bit of a breakdown!), some swearing, uses of 'kitten' and 'sweetie', Sylus is so soft here he should come with a health warning tbh

| Word count: 2.4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

In the event of a wanderer incursion where evacuation of citizens is obstructed or otherwise not viable, association protocol 32.3-A dictates that you should first… That you should first… What?

Your pen is poised above the blank space where your answer should be. 32.3-A is a general procedure: something to do moving people to the nearest shelter. Or, wait— are you supposed to try to contact support, first?

You drop your pen with a huff and flop face-down onto the mock exam. It’s too much. Too much information, too much responsibility. Open textbooks are spread over your desk and around your head like an unholy halo— stacks of them, filled with codes and procedures. They’re supposed to be helpful, but they’re not; they’re drowning you.

Your phone pings and you glance up. Text from Tara:

Hi! Hate to be a bother, but did you finish glancing over that practice question for me? xx

Shit. You’d completely forgotten. You straighten, reaching for your laptop so you can load up your latest emails. You’ve got time to look over it; the exam isn’t for another two days. Breathe, ok? You have time.

Seven unread emails. What? You scan over them frantically. Two from the Captain: accepting additional mission requests you’d applied for. Were those both this week? One from Nero: you hadn’t sent in that finished report. Three from your colleagues, all scrambling for help with the exam. One from Tara:

Thanks for saying you’d look over this for me! You’re the best at this stuff!

Ok, so: Tara’s practice question. Nero’s report. Your own practice questions. Then… dinner? Maybe that should come first. You’d skipped lunch— had one slice of toast for breakfast. But you don’t wanna cook; cooking takes time, and you’ve got none. None.

Your phone is ringing, snapping you back to reality, and you peek over at it. Sylus?

“Hi,” you greet as you put him on speaker. On your laptop, you’re opening up Tara’s attachment.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Always straight to the point. “Uh… yeah?” you frown as you read through your friend’s work. “Why? What d’you need?”

Sylus sighs through the phone. “That was a test, sweetie. You failed.”

“Yeah, well…” you murmur, highlighting a sentence with your cursor. “Add it to the list.”

The man doesn’t find that funny. The phone is quiet— too quiet. “Are you alright?” he asks, just as your gaze wanders to check if the call has disconnected.

“Mmhmm.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Sylus.”

You stare down at your phone. He’s waiting for more, but you won’t give it to him. You’re one word away from slipping, and you can’t let the dam crumble, especially in front of him. He’s smiling from the phone call background: a photo he insisted would ‘ruin’ his image when you took it last week.  

“I need to go, ok?” Your eyes are shining.

“Ok,” he says softly.

There’s a bleep as the call cuts out, and the photo is gone. Waiting beneath it is another text from Tara, and one from Xavier: Nero told me to txt U bout a report??

You swallow the ache in your throat and slump down on your desk again.

…

You wake up with a start, your head ringing. The tangerine sky outside your window’s turned dark— your laptop, too— and light spills from your desk lamp, yellow on white pages. There’s more, and you turn, tracing it back to where it leaks through the crack of your almost closed bedroom door.

You hadn’t left any lights on in your flat. You hadn’t switched on your lamp, either.

Tiredness is dulling your thoughts and your senses, but you know you feel uneasy. There’s something in the air: smoky, but not unpleasant. You can hear something as well. No— two things. A faint, almost imperceptible hiss, and a more obvious humming.

Hunter instincts kick in. You roll open a drawer of your desk, snatching up one of your standard-issue pistols and removing its safety with a click. You stalk up to the door, your trained footsteps near silent. You take a deep breath, clearing your head. One. Two.

Three! You shoulder the door open, leaping through with your gun trained forwards.

At the other end of your sights, Sylus turns, an eyebrow raised. Your kitchen stove seethes behind him, and he gives you a once over as he sluggishly raises both hands. “You flatter me, kitten,” he smirks in surrender, looking between your weapon and his: a spatula.

You lower your gun, your heart still racing. “I could have killed you, Sylus!”

“That’s the spirit.” His hands drop, too.

“How did you even get in here?”

He’s turned back to the stove, and he’s using the spatula to push something around a frying pan. “Hmm…” he muses, then blink— he’s gone. He’s at your fridge a second later, materialising from thin air. “I wonder,” he finishes as he reaches around for something.

Show off. “You know how I feel about you telepor…” No. “Phas…” No. “Magic…king…?” By now he’s watching you over his shoulder. “You know— that thing you do.” You’re twinkling your fingers. “What do you even call that?”

“Magicking, yeah.”

You huff in response and he laughs, walking back over to where he’s cooking two steaks and preparing a salad. You’re still coming to terms with the fact he’s even here, looking... quite frankly ridiculous, because he’s wearing your apron. It’s too small for him. Baby pink. Frilly, too.

“You know how I feel about you magicking into my home,” you mutter distractedly, because actually? He’s kinda pulling it off. His sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, tight on his arms. “Use the door like a regular person, you psychopath.”  

“Where’s the fun in that?” He sounds smug. Ugh, he must feel your eyes on him; he must know. You think he’s toying with the idea of calling you out, but he doesn’t, and when he does speak, the smugness is gone. “Mephisto saw you were sleeping. I didn’t wish to disturb you. You sounded… tired. On the phone.”

Guilt twinges in your chest as you draw up beside him. “Is that why you’re here? Playing housewife?” You pick at a frill on the apron.

“Poke fun all you want,” he sneers. “This shirt costs more than your entire wardrobe.”

“Snob.”

“Ha.” You have to retract your hand as he threatens it with the spatula. “Watch yourself, sweetie. I’ll remember that the next time you ask to ‘borrow’ my card.”

You laugh gently. Now that’s a threat. You’re about to tell him so when you hear a ping from the other room, and your heart sinks. Just a single sound, and you’re back to where you were an hour ago, at your desk with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Sylus hums in acknowledgment as you excuse yourself and hurry back to your workspace, snatching up your phone. You missed three calls while you sleeping: all from Xavier. He’s been texting you, too.

Nero’s yelling at me

Wants to talk to U

Can U pick up? Pls?

It’s one report, for gods’ sake. You feel your chest tightening again. You just needed to proofread it, but it’s probably fine, right? You wake your laptop out of standby; you’ll just send it as it is. “I’ll just be a minute, Sy,” you call out. “Need to finish one thing.”

He mumbles something in response, and you imagine it’s for the best you can’t hear it. Your keyboard clacks as you tap out a quick email to Nero, then you surf your files for the report he so desperately wanted. It should be… here. You attach it. Hit send.

Nothing happens.

Huh. You hit send again. Then again— still nothing. You groan, trying to back out of the email. None of your keys are working. Your cursor is stuck. “Oh, come on,” you release on an impatient breath. Switch it off, switch it on again? You hit the off button. The screen goes black.

With a sigh of relief, you wait a moment before switching it on again. The screen stays black.

“No, no, no, no,” you plead quietly, but it doesn’t cooperate. Your phone rings and you snap, hitting more buttons: Answer. Speaker. “What?” you hiss.

“Whoa. Hi…?” Xavier’s voice is cautious. “I don’t know if you saw my texts, but Nero—”

“The report, Xavier! I know! I know!” You try holding down your laptop’s power button. “I’m trying to send it, but my shitty computer won’t—”

“No way!” Tara’s voice comes in on the other line; did they both get the night shift? “Hey you! Did you get a chance to—”

“No, ok?!” you practically cry out. “No! Can you two just back off? Please!”

“Oh, sorry, I…” Tara sounds upset, then distracted. “Wait, Xavier wants to speak to you.”

“Are you ok?” he asks after a second.

Ok? You just want everything to stop. “I’m fine. Shit, tell Tara I’m sorry. I am sorry, Xavier, I just… I just need my laptop to…”

Work. Work! Nothing’s working. Half of your files are on there. How much of it is backed-up? Panic is setting in, gripping your body like ice. Your throat hurts and your mouth is dry, the dam is breaking and you can’t stop it. Tears prick at your eyes as you blink at the blank, hopeless screen. Your reflection stares back at you.

You let out a sob, expelling days of frustration and exhaustion. Everywhere you look there’s something you need to do, something you need to learn, something you need to finish. You can’t. You clasp a hand over your mouth, muffling your own cries.

Xavier is speaking— saying something over the phone— but you can’t hear him.

The light changes, and there’s a figure above you, lifting the phone from the desk. “They’ll call you back,” the shadow says. Sylus.

“Wait, who is this?” Xavier.

“That’s Skye!” Tara.

Your friends’ distant voices cut out as Sylus ends the call. He sets the phone down again, nudging your laptop out of view, then lowers himself until all you can see is him: his red eyes, softer than you’ve ever seen them. “Come on, sweetie,” he coaxes, guiding your hands over his shoulders.

You understand what he’s asking of you. His arms wrap around you and you hold him tighter, letting him lift you out of your chair. He feels warm, his skin ever so slightly flushed from where he’s been standing over the stove, and he pulls your legs around his waist, letting him carry you with ease.

With your face buried in his shoulder, you can’t tell where he’s taking you, and you don’t care. His shirt is going damp against your cheeks. You want to stop crying, but you can’t with the taste of your tears on your lips. You feel weak. You feel pathetic.

Something solid is behind you, and Sylus is setting you slowly down on the kitchen counter. He’s away from you for a moment— moving the frying pan off of the heat and turning a dial on the stove— but then he’s back, standing between your legs, standing close. You’re looking down until his hand is under your chin, lifting it with the delicate touch one employs when inspecting a flower that might break.

He shushes you without a hint of impatience. “Look at me,” he directs quietly, and when you do, he unrolls his shirtsleeves— drawing the cuffs over his hands so he can use them to wipe your eyes. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

You do— you tell him everything. The hunter’s exam. The textbooks. The extra patrols you’ve been signing up for. The work you’ve been doing for your friends. The stupid report. The even more stupid computer.

Sylus listens collectedly, nodding his head and issuing the odd hum of understanding. He listens to all of it, and when you’re done, he pushes your hair back from your face with a sympathetic sigh. “Oh, sweetie.” A tendril is tucked behind your ear. “You should have said something.”

“I know.” Your gaze is still shy of his. “But how can I? I need to do this— be this— for everyone.”

His hands are on your cheeks again, drawing back your focus. “You’re just one person,” he says. “You— just you— and that’s all you need to be. You’re stubborn, and strong, but you’re not invincible. Even Linkon’s shiniest hunter is allowed to have limits. Everyone does.”

“Even you?” you snivel, setting him up for a quip.  

Nothing. He smiles. Shrugs. “Even me.”

It’s hard to believe when he’s staring back at you, oh so solid, oh so perfect. Always a picture of strength: of fiery determination or calculated coolness. Everything in extremes; nothing by halves. Except… his hair is slightly dishevelled from where he’s been working away in the heat. There’s a damp patch on his shirt. He’s wearing your pink apron, and there’s mascara on his sleeves.

Then there’s the way he’s looking at you.

It shifts when you finally look back. He drops his hands from your face and pulls back a little. “You do a lot for your friends,” he continues with confidence, but he’s rubbing his neck, “and they care about you. You should afford them the chance to return the favour. It’s only fair.”

“You’re right.”

“…Good.”

Perhaps it’s the fact you’ve vaguely composed yourself— or the way you’re watching him like you’re seeing something new— but he straightens self-consciously, rolling his shirtsleeves back up as his eyes go sharp: assuming their usual severity.

“You’re too soft, kitten,” he scolds, reaching out to tousle your hair until you’re glaring daggers from behind a curtain of it. “How many times do I have to tell you? You put yourself first. Always. No-one else matters.”

There’s quiet for all of a second. He can’t help correcting: “Well, except me, of course.” The apron’s crooked, and he flattens it with a brush of his hands. “Any time spent with me qualifies as self-care. You really should know that by now, sweetie.”

Your mouth curls, but you haven’t quite got it in you to laugh— not yet. Stretching his neck with two sideways tips of his head, Sylus returns to his post at the oven, where the meal he’s cooking has almost certainly gone cold. You watch as the stove flickers back to life. The man is humming again, and though the food might yet be salvaged, whatever melody he’s attempting is long-past recognition, let alone saving.

You chuckle to yourself.

And you can’t see it, but Sylus is smiling, too.

[dazed-19]

based on @havanillas role swap au

normal ratio and gambler ratio switch places :3

probably gonna write this out when i finish up my argenthill fic

dr.kakavasha is suspicious of “Lapis” but chalks it up to him being weirder than usual

ratio actually understands what’s going on and tries to play the role of Lapis. he hypothesized that aven probably took his place in this universe but when he sees dr.kakavasha he freezes up and almost reveals himself.

when dr. kakavasha actually has a meeting with veritas (by force not choice, more contrast between the characters hahaahha) he realizes its not Lapis and threatens veritas.

“You’ve done your research, you know that this stoneheart’s real name is veritas ratio, but it seems you somehow haven’t caught wind of who he is now. I suggest you reveal yourself so you can lessen your punishment. Impersonation of a stoneheart is strictly forbidden.”

Ratio being ratio, uses his wits to convince dr.kakavasha. He understands that since Dr. Kakavasha is similar to himself, he should see his reasoning. Dr. Kakavasha is surprised at first, but after he learns of what Ratio’s universe is like he obliges and helps Ratio figure a way back home. All the while asking Ratio questions about himself as he finally has a chance to see who the Veritas Ratio he heard so much about while studying was like before he turned into Lapis. He does this to also understand Lapis better, because he wants to know what was the difference and why they became so different. He also is very surprised when veritas whips out his abalasor head because what the fuck?? when they’re alone together ratio uses it when he’s deep in thought because while this is kakavasha, he isn’t his.

aventurine immediately realizes it’s not his doctor bc while Lapis understands what’s going on, he dreads having to be veritas ratio again. so he disappears (as best as he can) as he knows his counterpart will find a way to fix this. aven being aven finds Lapis (he’s lucky ofc he’s gonna find him) and is surprised to see how different Lapis is from veritas and makes note of how much nous’ gaze really impacted the both of them. (if aven already knows that ratio never received nous’ gaze make it so that he realizes how much it matters as well. idk if aven actually knows this so that’s why we gotta research.) he also invites Lapis to stay with him bc Lapis has been staying at a run down hotel with a casino. aven invites him also because he wants to understand veritas more so if he learns more about Lapis, veritas’ opposite but still similar, he’ll be able to figure veritas out. and also because he wants to find out how to get his doctor back. Safe to say he is SHOCKED when Lapis is almost exactly like himself. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised since Lapis already explained what was going on, but he’s still surprised. While he would love to see a version of Ratio gamble and win 10 times in a row, he knows that his Doctor would hate to see his reputation ruined and to be thought of as a gambling addict so he makes sure that Lapis stops before things get even crazier. He opts to let Lapis gamble with himself to at least keep him entertained. Also while Aven originally let Lapis stay so they could find out how set things right, he is again shocked when Lapis slacks off and almost never touches a single book or article about dimensional travel.

“Lapis, I hope you know that while I enjoy winning against you when we gamble,” Aven stated. He wanted to get a start on how to get his doctor back, and Ra- Lapis, had done as much as spending two seconds reading a book. He took a breath, “That’s not why I invited you to stay with me.”

“I am aware, however I’m sure your Ratio is on his way to figure out whatever happened. He’s honestly probably working with my little doctor hah. Oh how I wish I could’ve seen Dr. Kakavasha’s face when he realized it wasn’t me.”

Aventurine froze. “Sorry, Kakavasha?” Lapis looked at him for a moment. And then laughed.

“Oh right, hah. Here you’re not called by your birth name since your a stoneheart. I keep forgetting that, sorry Aventurine.”

Also there’s probably one moment where Aven finds Lapis drunk and there’s a reference to the comic the artist made.

“Lapis stared into Aventurine’s eyes. Like he was lost in them. It seemed as though he could stare into those multicolored eyes forever.

“Lapis, my friend, its about time we head back no? I’m sure you’ll regret not drinking any water tomorrow so-“

“They’re beautiful.”

“…What?”

“Those eyes.” He pauses, taking another moment to stare before he dons a smile too wide for the face Aventurine has come to know. “Hah its just like what happened last time I drank this much.” The blonde’s eyes widen into saucers. The sharp inhale he does does nothing to calm himself down.

“Haha, is- is that so?”

“Quite. It's most likely the one constant throughout the universe. Your eyes will always be pretty, and they will always make me yearn.” Lapis whispers the end of that sentence, like if he says it any louder this moment will shatter into a million pieces, like a mirror.”

[augustinewrites]

a/n: bcs childe would absolutely benefit from dating a lawyer (also a repost from one of my other accs!)

“finally!” childe exclaims, fist-pumping the air as he hops to his feet. “i was starting to think you’d all forgotten about me.”

tartaglia aka the eleventh harbinger aka childe had been the subject of multiple meetings you’d attended in the last few days. with him finally in custody, immunity void, everyone wanted their pound of flesh.

you roll your eyes, nodding your head for the guards to open the cell. “you’ve only been in holding for three hours.”

“three very long, very boring hours.” he briefly stretches his arms above his head, rocking on the balls of his feet as he blinks down at you. “so i take it you’re my lawyer?”

“that's correct,” you confirm, telling him your name and stepping back as the guard cuffs his hands, shoving him forward as his partner leads the two of you down the hall. you pretend not to notice as the harbinger studies the manacles, smirking as if he’s already figured a way out of them.

normally, you preferred to stay as far away as possible from the fatui— especially one as dangerous as a harbinger. as the liyue qixing’s main legal advisor, you’d already had a handful of run-ins with the snezhnayan “diplomats,” as they called themselves. while pantalone hadn’t been as cutthroat as childe in the literal sense, his wit and business savvy were just as fearsome.

yet here you were, actually representing a harbinger in court. a major conflict of interest, yes, concerning your current affiliation, but with the harbor temporarily closed for travel and public defenders up to their knees in (fatui) clients, they’d had no choice but to have you take him on as a temporary client.

a gesture of goodwill, lady ningguang had called it. so her majesty knows we gave him a fighting chance in court. our best for her best.

so yes, there was that, and there was the fact that no one else wanted to represent him.

you’re led into the interrogation room, childe moving to pull your chair out for you. “c’mon,” he urges when you hesitate, setting your bag on the table. “i may be a criminal, but my mother taught me my manners.”

you pull out the chair next to it, sitting down and leveling him with a stern look. “pulling out a chair does not cancel out the multiple felonies you’re about to be charged with.”

“please,” he laughs, taking a seat himself when you opt to drag another chair to the table. “you’re giving me way too much credit, babe. i only committed maybe one or two.”

—

“gross negligence, disorderly conduct, destruction of property–”

childe clears his throat loudly, ignoring the glare you send his way. the one that says i told you so.“technically it was lady ningguang that threw the jade chamber at osial, not me. i wasn’t even there.”

the butt of xiao's weapon hitting the floor makes a terrifying sound. that's all it takes to silence the harbinger as ganyu turns the page.

“–desecration, assault, and attempted murder. these are the charges that can be brought against your client by the liyue qixing and the liyue adepti.”

childe pushes out of his seat, slamming his palms onto the table. “attempted murder?”

“please sit down,” you urge, but your attempt to placate him is unsuccessful as he shakes off your hand. “you haven’t been found guilty yet–”

“that makes me sound weak. i got way farther than just an attempt!” he exclaims, ignoring you completely.

“archons, help me,” you mutter, averting your gaze to the heavens for strength. “ganyu,” you interrupt before your client can further incriminate himself, yanking his arm until he sits back down. “could i please have a moment alone with my client?”

“i will give you one minute,” she agrees, but while she turns to leave, xiao remains stubbornly rooted in place.

you smile sweetly at the adeptus. “xiao, if you hear me scream, you can come in here and do whatever you want to him.”

the adeptus chuckles at that (albeit very slightly) as he flashes out of the room, and childe makes an offended noise. "hey, aren’t you my lawyer? you’re supposed to be protecting me!”

your sweet smile immediately drops from your face. “i'm only here because of your right to an attorney, and because almost all of liyue harbor’s public defenders are busy representing your subordinates. ganyu only agreed to meet with us before your arraignment because she owes me a favour, so be nice.”

“well, you’re all wasting your time,” childe shrugs, alarmingly calm for someone in his position. “because i’m a snezhnayan diplomat. i have rights!”

“do you?”

“uh…i think i have rights?”

“you had rights,” you correct sharply. "you forfeited diplomatic immunity the second you decided to commit multiple, very serious criminal offences. so shut up and stop incriminating yourself further so i can do my job.”

“and you could argue that i was just doing mine,” he quips, drumming his fingers against the tabletop. “hey, how long do you think it’d take me to break out of a prison here? ‘cause i’m thinking a week at most.”

cocky bastard.

rubbing your temples, you make a mental note to never agree to represent a fatui harbinger again, even if the pay is as good as it is. “are you really looking to add felony escape to your rap sheet?”

he winks, and you question all your life decisions. “it's only felony escape if i get caught.”

“you will get caught,” you deadpan. “do you seriously think that xiao or the other adepti will let you live if they see you in anyplace but a jail cell?”

“so what? i can fight.”

they might as well convict him now.

you send him one last warning glare as ganyu and xiao return, the latter looking more disgruntled than usual as ganyu says,

“the charges against you have been dropped.”

both you and your client are silent for a moment, because—

“what?”

“holy shit,” childe exhales, nudging your shoulder with his. “you're pretty good.”

you are good, yes, but not this good. “ganyu—”

she holds up a hand. “mr. zhongli sends his regards. you'll be compensated at double your current rate for your time.”

that shuts you up, and the room falls silent at the consultant’s name.

(you wonder if childe knows. it was his purpose, wasn’t it? to draw rex lapis out and steal the gnosis.)

the awkward silence is broken when xiao clears his throat. “while it’s been maintained that the charges be dropped, the qixing and adepti agree that community service and a hefty fine shall suffice in place of a conviction.”

“sounds fair to me,” you agree, because there’s really no better deal than this. you take the contract that the adepti hand you, giving it a quick read before sliding it over to your client. “mr. tartaglia?”

childe simply hands his cuffs to a stunned guard next to him, grinning as he takes the quill from your hand. “where do i sign?”

__________

the relatively peaceful stroll back to your condo is interrupted by the sound of quick footfalls behind you. you don’t have to turn around to know it’s childe, here to make your night even harder.

“don’t you have a community to serve?”

childe bounds up next to you, an annoyingly pretty smile curling on his lips. "can’t i start with taking a pretty lawyer to dinner?”

you hope the heat you feel creeping up your neck stays hidden by your shirt collar. “it’s two in the morning.”

he grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "ah, right. how about a drink then? i know the owner at third-round knockout.”

your pace slows as you glance toward chihu rock. the idea of going home to have a nice, long soak in the tub tugged at you, but you could use a strong glass of, well, anything after this absolute shitshow of a week.

“alright, fine,” you agree tiredly (partly because he doesn’t seem like the type to take ‘no’ as an answer). “just one drink, tartaglia, and only if you’re paying.”

_____

childe liked to watch people.

not in that way, mind you. bold and battle-hungry as he may be at times, he had always preferred silence, and by proxy, silent observation. he was never one for the long-game, but sometimes sitting back to watch and listen to those around him simply proved more beneficial. it was fun to see how people reacted to certain things, especially if the catalyst was an event he’d manipulated.

his people-watching made him an expert at reading between the lines to discern one’s true nature. he tries to apply it here, sitting with you. he doesn’t sense anything particularly hostile (other than your understandable passive aggressiveness), but your silence is heavy with distrust, and the slight the crease between your brows is marring your pretty face.

you’re hiding something. or maybe you think you are.

“stop staring at me,” you mutter without so much as a glance in his direction, the corners of your lips downturned as you sip from your glass.

undeterred, childe leans in, amused when you immediately lean away. clearly you have a good sense of self-preservation. “i’m not staring. i’m…gazing.”

“well, stop,” you warn. “it's creepy.”

a grin curls on his lips. “you like it.”

the noncommittal noise you make isn’t a ‘no,’ so childe decides to take that as a win.

“so…” he starts slowly, a finger tracing the rim of his glass. you’ve had three glasses of liquor by now, definitely not enough to warm you up to him, but hopefully enough that you’ll accidentally tell him what he wants to know in an effort to prove him wrong. “how do you know mr. zhongli?”

instead of answering, you immediately pivot with, “how do you know mr. zhongli?”

“work,” he replies with a click of his tongue. “how does a lawyer become acquainted with a funeral parlour consultant?”

“how does a harbinger become acquainted with one?”

the smartass answer would simply be to gesture to himself. death was his business, his trade, his currency— just like a funeral consultant's.

but he has a feeling the smartass answer won’t earn him more than a smack upside the head so instead he settles for, “like i said, work.”

whatever you mutter under your breath is accompanied by a roll of your eyes, so childe guesses it’s an insult. he scoots his seat closer to yours anyway. “you're from around here. what do you know about him?”

“that depends,” you shrug, swirling the amber liquid around in your glass. “i can’t tell you what i know unless you tell me what you know.”

“and i can’t tell you what i know unless you tell me what it is you know."

"hm. then i guess neither of us will know what the other knows.”

childe knows that you know (he doesn’t really, but he has a very strong feeling that you do). he doesn’t even really care if you’ll admit it or not. he just wants to find your line and see what it’ll take to get you to cross it.

which brings him to his next endeavor.

“anyway, are you single? if you are, then great! If you aren’t, i can definitely take ‘em.”

he’s not sure why you choke on your drink like you’re shocked.

“seriously, childe?” you ask, shaking your head slightly.

“why not?” he shrugs, gesturing to his mussed-up hair and scuffed clothes. “are you really saying you wouldn’t take a run at all this, given the chance?”

if looks could kill, you’d definitely be the one being charged with attempted murder. “i wouldn’t even take a walk at it."

something stirs in his frostbitten heart because, archons, you’re mean.

he’s so into it.

“i’ll grow on you eventually,” he assures you, surely almost losing a few fingers as he plays with a strand of your hair. “especially if you come work for me. i’ll double whatever the liyue qixing’s paying.”

he’d get pantalone to sign off on it somehow.

you wrinkle your nose with distaste. “work for the fatui?”

“no, no. you’ll have your hands full with just me. i commit so many felonies that you won’t have to take on another client ever,” he corrects, leaning in until his lips brush your ear. “and honestly? i don’t like to share.”

“not interested,” you say, and he laughs when you shove him away, downing the rest of your drink. “i’ll meet you tomorrow morning to get your community service hours sorted. goodnight, childe.”

all right, you're playing hard to get, childe thinks to himself as he turns back to his drink. but that's okay. the only thing more satisfying to him than catching his prey is the thrill of a good chase.

if you notice him flinch slightly when you pat this hand, you don’t notice, rising from your stool to leave. you can’t leave yet! he hasn’t weakened your defences with his wily charms and roguish good looks. “hey, wait—”

it's embarrassing how long it’d taken him to realize his hand had been stuck to the bar.

frozen to the bar, to be specific. it's even more embarrassing that he hadn’t noticed the cryo vision sitting just above the curve of your ass.

he stares at the ice cocooning his hand in genuine shock and awe. It’s crystal clear, free of any cloudy impurities. he’s from snezhnaya, he knows his ice. “this is— this is hard to do. you’re really good.”

he wonders, briefly, if you’re any good with a blade. he pictures it (fantasizes, actually), but quickly snuffs out the vision because he’s starting to get a little turned on.

but super hot, slightly homicidal guys must not be your type, judging from the way you brush off his compliment and turn on your heel, leaving him with a two-fingered salute.

“see you tomorrow, harbinger.”

he may not be your type right now, but, yeah, he’s definitely gonna change that.

a/n: if you found this on ao3 then congrats! you found my ao3. also if you made it to the end!! pls tell me what u think childe would do for community service in liyue LOL i would love to discuss

[puranami]

✿ Fever - 1 ✿

A/N: Not included Brook and Jimbei bc I have absolutely no idea how to write them. Also, since Chopper is baby it would feel weird including him, even though it'd be in a purely platonic way. Just because of all the pining going on. Idk, I'd rather keep the themes separate, if that makes sense?

Summary: You're sick and try to ignore it.

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Nami, Usopp, Sanji, Robin, Franky.

Content: SFW, G/N reader, no serious illness but Usopp's is a liiiiittle angsty bc of his mum, not proofread (effectively) bc it's past 2am ✿

(Part 2)

Luffy

✿ He's honestly oblivious to things at first. You are doing your best to maintain your usual level of enthusiasm but it's so exhausting, and that's the most he registers - that you're tired.

"Hey, did ya not sleep too good?" he asked, entirely too loud for the headache beginning to form. You groan and lean your head into your hand, as if that would somehow soothe things, but to no avail. "Don't worry about it, I swear it won't affect my duties," you say, not sure who you were trying to convince. Apparently it didn't work regardless, as when you looked at him he was just stood there frowning with his arms crossed, and his head tilted. Before you could say anything you were greeted with a rubbery palm lightly smacking against your forehead, earning a surprised yelp from you. "You're hot." "Luffy!" Of course he had to say it that way. If you weren't already burning up with this fever, that would've set your skin ablaze. He really had no filter, and he never realised how the things he said affected you. He removed his hand from your face to grab your own, turning to drag you back to your quarters, not listening to any of your protests on the matter. There really wasn't anything you could do once Luffy had made up his mind, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't part of his charm. "No duties for you today, 'kay?" It may have been phrased like a question, but you knew it was 'Captain's orders.'

✿ You'd end up sleeping most of the day, with Luffy having gotten Chopper to look after you.

✿What you wouldn't be aware of was his constant presence while you slept, keeping a quiet vigil whilst he made sure the damp cloth on your head was always nice and cool.

✿ He just wants you to get better as fast as you can!

Zoro

✿ One word; clueless.

✿ It just looks like a hangover to him, what with the way you groan at the light, are unsteady on your feet, and complain about being nauseous.

"And I thought I drank a lot last night." he'd comment with a smirk. "Shut up, Zoro, you always drink a lot," you whine. "I didn't drink anything!" "The pathetic whining says otherwise." You threw the rag you'd been cleaning with at him. He raised an eyebrow, watching it harmlessly drop to the floor in front of him. "Your form is off." This man, you swear! You try to growl out an insult, but it dies on your tongue, a wave of nausea hitting in it's place, causing you to clasp a hand to your mouth. "Alright, easy champ, no need to strain yourself," Zoro raised his hands in faux surrender. "Come on, you gotta sleep this one off." He can't help but smile as you pathetically smack at him while he picks you up, opting for bridal style as opposed to flour sack, only so you don't empty your guts down his back. Saying that, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy holding you like that, though you're far too busy trying to fight him to notice the dusting of pink on his cheeks. "Don't worry I'll get you through this. I know my way around a hangover." "I'm not hungover," you protest as he gently places you in a hammock.

✿ True to his word though, he does see you through it, even if 'it' is the wrong thing. Task failed successfully!

✿ Zoro stays beside you, makes sure you drink plenty of water, and get plenty of rest, even falling asleep himself at one point; his face inches from yours as he was leaning against the post the top end of the hammock was attached to at the time.

✿ Sadly you never saw that as you slept right through it. Would've been good ammunition to use against him when he needed taking down a peg.

Nami

✿ One of the people who would actually do a good job of looking after you. She's not got the gentlest bedside manner; she is firm yet fair, so you're in good hands.

When you don't join the crew for breakfast, Nami took it upon herself to make sure you hadn't gotten tangled in your hammock, or something equally as stupid. You wake up in a cold sweat when you hear your door open, and manage to croak out, "Nami? Oh, did I oversleep?" When you try to get up, she pushes you right back down. "Don't." Her tone indicates that she will not tolerate any shenanigans, and so you do as you're told. "You need to sleep more. I'll get you some water, and later Sanji will make you some soup." She tucks a thin blanket around you, so you don't overheat. "If you so much as try to get out of this hammock I'm going to tie your arms and legs together. Understood?" Unable to stop yourself, you let out a light chuckle. "Nami, you're so cute when you pretend not to care," the fever disabling any kind of filter you may have had. While it did catch her by surprise, you are none the wiser, as you quickly drift back off to sleep. Nami has to take a brief moment to collect herself again, silently cursing the noticeable warmth in her cheeks, then mumbling about how you're an idiot before leaving your room.

✿ Nami basically dictates how your day is. Lots of sleep, plenty of fluids and maybe a warm bath to help sweat this out, and of course she 'requests' (demands) Sanji make a hearty soup to help you get better, which he is more than happy to do for her!

✿ She'll deny it, but she sets up in your room so she can monitor you throughout the day, only going to Chopper for medicine if she thinks it's bad enough, deciding it isn't necessary to bother him with something so manageable.

Usopp

✿ He panics. Something about seeing someone he cares about getting sick makes him think of his mother, and he doesn't want to lose anyone else like that.

Usopp scoops you up and books it to Chopper. You've seen him afraid, but nothing this intense, and no matter how much you try to convince him that you're okay, and that it's just a cold - you can't seem to break through to him. "Chopper, please help! Please!" He begs as he gently places you on a bed. Tears are streaming down his face, as he takes your hand in a vice-like grip. Once Chopper confirms what you already tried to tell him about it being a common cold, he relaxes a bit. You don't hold it against him, clearly this is something deeper for him. Chopper's words, those of a professional, were very reassuring. "You just need rest, but I do have medicine to help with symptoms if you need," he says before putting a comforting little hoof on Usopp's knee. "Everything will be okay, I promise." Usopp takes a moment to collect himself before quietly saying, "Can I stay?" You and Chopper look at each other before smiling back at him, letting him know he is welcome to stay as long as he likes, or in this case needs. Neither of you press him on why this had him so scared, figuring he'll tell you if and when he's ready to.

✿ Chopper will handle all of your care, because Usopp refuses to leave your side.

✿ He keeps you entertained with his stories when you're awake, and scribbles on some loose papers Chopper gives him while you sleep. It's mainly ideas for things to make, and it keeps him calm.

✿ At one point he falls asleep with his arms crossed on the bed beside you, his little fingers linked with your own, like an unspoken promise that you'll get better, and he'll be there when you do.

Sanji

✿ As soon as Sanji catches on that you are sick, he decides to completely dedicate himself to your care and recovery! He's very attentive, and will do every little thing you want or need to get you back to health.

"Darling, I insist!" Every 'it's okay,' and 'you don't need to do all that for me,' will be shot down immediately. "What kind of man would I be if I let someone as lovely as you do anything in this condition?" He clutches his chest dramatically. "No, no. Don't you worry about a thing; I'll make sure you're well again in no time at all." You really don't have the energy to try and dissuade him, so you accept your fate, and let him dote on you the whole day. It's honestly really nice; you love having his attention, and are thankful that the fever hides your blushes, but you also can't help feeling a little guilty with how much he does for you. "Please don't overexert yourself on my behalf, I don't want you to end up getting sick yourself." "Even if I was sick, it wouldn't stop me from looking after you, my dear." You can't help but frown at this. He's so eager to do for others, but is painfully stubborn about receiving that same care. "If you're ever sick, Sanji, I'm gonna do everything that you've done for me - and I won't hear any objection from you on the matter!" You say in as stern a voice as you can manage with a sore throat. "Darling-" "Nope!" You cut him off quickly, "You deserve the same level of care that you give out!" He looks at you a little wide-eyed, an adorable blush creeping along his face. He lets out a small laugh. As much as he'd like to, he says nothing more on it; you're as stubborn as he is it would seem.

✿ Sanji makes lots of lovely food to help aid in your recovery; warming soups, peppermint tea, porridge with ginger and honey. Everything that soothes and settles, no matter the malady.

✿ His bedside manner is impeccable! He's so gentle with you, and he makes sure to check in as often as he can, whilst still doing his duties, getting as much done as possible while you're asleep.

✿ Like Nami, he only goes to Chopper if he feels your condition requires it. He's confident that his cooking will be more than enough to get you back to health.

Robin

✿ A blessing, and a curse. She's very logical, and she knows how to handle such a minor illness, but, she really can't help telling you all about other illnesses that have worryingly similar symptoms.

"Oh, this one is very unpleasant," she beams, and you can't help but press your hands over your ears. "Chopper!" You cry, before she can start telling you about this particular strain of 'instantdeathitus,' practically running into the infirmary with Robin hot on your heels, holding an open book on diseases. "Robin keeps talking about scary diseases and now I'm scared I'm gonna die!" After being given a quick check-up, and much reassurance that, no, you do not have a rare disease that can only be contracted on a specific island in a completely different ocean, and yes, it is just a common cold, you relax. Mostly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Robin says later once you have bundled up and settled down. "Your cold just reminded me of this book, and I thought it was fascinating. I just wanted to share it with you." She clearly felt guilty, and you appreciated that this was just how she is, but you really would've rather she'd chosen a different topic to tell you about. "Maybe, you have a book on old remedies you could tell me about instead?" Robin perks back up at this. She truly values how much you understand her, and she can see why talking about diseases when your ill is not the most pleasant experience, so this is a perfect compromise. "That's a wonderful idea," she smiles, and you swear she puts the sun to shame with how bright her smile is. "There might be one we can try that will help with your recovery."

✿ Once you get past the scary disease hiccup, Robin is a great companion, looking up home remedies, and trying out the ones that are clearly based on logic as opposed to superstition.

✿ If you find a good remedy, she's excitedly write it down, and later pass the information on to Chopper.

✿ She's happy to get you water when needed, and will watch over you as you nap in the library. It's one of the quietest parts of the ship, so there is no way to disturb you there.

Franky

✿ Aside from Chopper, Franky is genuinely the best at dealing with sick people. He tones down his behaviour, and knows exactly what you need to get back on your feet.

Your head was absolutely thundering, at least that's how it felt. Franky clocked onto your condition as soon as he saw you enter the kitchen, and once you had what you came in for, he hurried you off to his workshop. You thought it was an odd choice. "Shouldn't I go somewhere quiet?" "I know it doesn't seem it, but I can keep this place absolutely silent if I need to. No music, no one else barging in and making a racket," he said, keeping his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "Also the walls are soundproof - keeps noise out just as well as it keeps my noise in." "Oh! That's really impressive," even when ill, there is a sparkle in your eyes when he tells you about pretty much anything he's designed or built. You notice his cheeks turning red, but assume that it's just from the compliment as he looked so proud when you gave it to him. "That's not all," he grins, "I've been working on a lil something, and now's the perfect time to show you!" That certainly piqued your interest, and he was doing a great job at distracting you from how bad you felt. Franky led you to one of the corners of the room, one that was covered in a large tarp. You'd seen it many times, and you were always curious, but he'd always brushed it off whenever you brought it up, so the thought of finally seeing what was under there was exciting! Pulling down the tarp revealed a little alcove that was almost like a nest considering the amount of cushions. "It's a space for you," he said sheepishly, "so you have somewhere comfortable to sit when you hang out in here. I figured you could rest there whilst you're ill, and I can look out for you." You stared at it in absolute wonder, big shining eyes darting between it and him. "It's absolutely perfect, thank you so much!"

✿ Franky kept the workshop quiet like he said he would, and whenever you needed anything, like water or medicine, he'd go and get it for you.

✿ At some point Chopper came in to check on you, since Franky had mentioned you were ill, but there really wasn't much to do about it besides getting lots of rest, and you had that covered.

✿ He'd work on his quiet projects, the ones still in the planning and design stages, whilst you slept peacefully in your cosy nest.

[crestapex]

Yesss we love a foodie simon!

Mans will tear up some fried rice and then fuck up some rotisserie chickens 2 min later. Yall stupid if u think u can leave 2 big plates unattended with him. 3 slurps and its gone.

If hes dating and u cant finish ur food he gladly finish it for u. Gets lowkey offended when i pull the plate back and tell him u just ate off that plate/fork. Like wtf u mean i cant eat off ur plate/fork it doesnt matter bc I kiss u anyways SO LET ME FUCKIN EAT😫

Hes the type to eat from the pot/pan. Like as soon as u tell him the food is ready hes already digging in the pressure cooker with a spoon.💀

Yeah-no, ‘cause he’s definitely the type to look at you all confused when you don’t just give him your plate and instead try to shove your uneaten food on to his. He’s quirking his brow, looking at you like, ‘Hello? My tongue has literally been inside you.’ 🤨 And he just gently takes your plate and fork out of your hands while staring at you, nodding in disapproval.

Update: sort of part two.

And “3 slurps and it’s gone” PLEASE, I’M DONE. Also, I just couldn’t stop myself from writing a (semi) little blurb. 🤭 Now introducing big boy helping you cook!

You stand at the stove, wooden spoon in one hand, and switching from spice to spice with the other. Your eyes stay focused on the silver pot below, nearly filled to the brim with hot, simmering soup. It’s one of your own recipes, fresh and homemade from start to finish. The savory smell fills the kitchen, and having certainly flooded into the other rooms of your shared flat. As it appears you’re not the only one who favors this recipe, someone else clearly does as well.

You try your best not to acknowledge the beast of a man looming over you too much, instead letting him quietly watch as you work your magic. Simon’s hand rests on the counter beside the stove, his other hand opting to rest knuckle-first on his hip. Sure, he mostly chooses to remain silent, but he has no problem reaching for and handing you a utensil or spice—often times before you can, and even before you can ask him to do so.

Every now and again you’ll find yourself having to step away for a minute, and a minute is all he needs. All the time he needs to inch over to your spot and take a hold of the wooden spoon, gently stirring the soup. All the time he needs to lift the spoon and bring it to his lips, slurping up the smallest amount it could possibly take to drench his taste buds, no matter how steaming hot it is. And all the time he needs to lower the spoon back into the pot and swiftly move back into position, just as you begin to turn around and make your way back over to the stove.

And you pretend you don’t notice, you like to pretend you didn’t just catch Simon from out the corner of your eye sneak a bit into his system. Though you can’t help but silently laugh to yourself as he lightly pushes a spice in your direction with his thumb, his own, kind way of telling you it needs just a little bit more!

[genderqueerdykes]

i love you so much i love the way u talk abt trans men and our struggles i makes me feel so seen especially bc youre older than me, i want to be understood , keep posting please

THANK YOU !!

i appreciate that. i feel like nobody (aside from some very cool bloggers on here) is advocating for trans men anymore. like unless its a trans man talking about these issues, it just doesn't happen. nobody advocates on our behalf for the most part. everyone just leaves us to the weeds. we have to help each other because most people just don't even understand what trans men and mascs want. like it's absolutely positively insanity inducing

when i was in college, at my pride group, there were just. no conversations about trans men. at all. in fact. at the time i was beginning to realize i was a trans man but i couldn't find support or acknowledgement of transmasculinity anywhere. whenever i would participate in the conferences, and large group meetings for LGBTQ communities in our part of the country... I was forced into queer women's groups. i did not identify as a woman or bigender at that time. i asked them where a female-to-male genderqueer person should go, and they put me in every queer women's group. i was not being considered trans. i was being viewed as a cis butch lesbian.

i was fucking pissed.

i learned the word transgender and what it meant and the example that was given was male to female, which was informative. i heard a lot of things about feminine transition, drag queens, cis gay male culture, bisexuality, pansexuality, and even asexuality. i want you to know that my college's pride group in 2011 - 2012 was more accepting of asexual people than trans men, which is insane for that time frame. i was actually allowed to help with a presentation on asexuality

i had to go online and research trans men, though. there were none to be found in the group that were at least out and able to talk to each other. we were all very stealth and nervous. my long term friends there ended up being gay men, lesbians, and a transfem agender person. i never met a single trans man there. it was heartbreaking.

i am tired of participating in transmasculine silence. i will not participate in self-erasure. trans men are trans. we're men. we're mascs. we NEED support, community, and care. we need to learn how to access transition resources, to comfort each other, to laugh with each other, to help each other find what clothes make us feel like ourselves, to say each other's names and pronouns, to see one's self in the other.

we need people who will protect us from misgendering. we need to be able to talk about our unique issues. we need to be able to talk about how yes, we experience misogyny, but also that transandrophobia is literally a thing. we need people who will stand up for femme trans men and gay trans men. we need people who understand that it's not okay to call every single trans man a confused butch lesbian and assume that they're a queer cis woman. trans men can be butch lesbians and that's okay. but you can't rip away a trans man's manhood for the sake of being a catty asshole. it's misgendering. it's transphobia. care about being transphobic. transphobia hurts all trans people no matter where it's directed. we all lose when you opt to deny trans men and mascs the right to community.

i am transmasculine. i am a trans man. i love being a trans man. i'm not ashamed. i'm not going back in the closet. i love my transmasculine brothers and siblings. i will not silence them. silencing them is a disservice to us all. i refuse to do that to us.

thank you for sending this ask. stay safe, take care of yourself, you're an important part of the LGBTQ community, don't let anyone take that from you.

[fairycrackhead]

𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 | toxic fuck boy Gojo x toxic reader

pairing: toxic fuck boy.ᐟGojo x toxic.ᐟreader

summary: Halloween night is now engraved in your memory which you can only assume it will be for the rest of your lives. When you two should have been trick or treating as normal 14 year olds would do, you instead opt to take each others virginity’s. Now you two are stuck in an endless cycle of toxic bad romance.

warnings: mention of abuse, drunk people, porn, minors watching porn, minors having sexual Intercourse, slight degradation, having unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy, hair pulling, mentions of murder, toxic relationship.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this was a random idea i thought up of when i heard the song ‘bad romance’ by lady gaga on the bus the other day! anyways this is my first fic i hope you sluts enjoy :)

⎜ 11:32 pm My Bitch (y/n) : your seriously a dick yk that?

⎜ 11:37 pm My bitch (y/n): i fuckin despise u

⎜ 11:45 pm Mr. Cock (Gojo): and your telling me again, y?

⎜ 11:47 pm My bitch (y/n): bc your w/ another girl like it’s clockwork, do you not see the problem here, Gojo? i asked you to stop the bullshit.

⎜ 11:49 pm Mr. Cock (Gojo): ur not my gf. im in for pussy that’s it. yk im not a relationship guy

⎜ 11:52 pm Mr. Cock (Gojo): and yet you continue to come back to me. pathetic honestly

⎜ 11:56 pm My bitch (y/n): fuck you

⎜ 12:00 am Mr. Cock (Gojo): already needy? 😂

You should’ve known what kind of man Satoru Gojo was when you lost your virginity to him on Halloween night, 2011. It’s not like it was forced upon you, besides the occasional talk in the middle school hallway that ‘girls who were virgins were prudes’ or ‘how pathetic is it that there’s still virgins in the 8th grade’. Looking back at it now, it sounds really stupid…like really fucking stupid. All those supposed ‘women’ they would call themselves, ‘women’ who just now learned how to correctly put a tampon into the pussy that they just mercilessly shaved, (more like butchered), were all still scrawny, pathetic little girls inside. Of course hearing all the chatter about everyone’s virginity losses, the stories that were so horrific it made you wanna vomit and change schools, made you insecure on the inside. It’s not like you hadn’t thought of sex before, it just wasn’t your current desire to have some undeveloped boy’s dick in one of those…holes down there. Which also brought up another concern for you: how to even do the act. You assumed that the other person would lead (which was a bad guess because Gojo was a fumbling inexperienced idiot as well).

And it was almost nothing like the old pornos your dad had playing on repeat on the old box tv. He’d spend all his off days (which were more than days he actually got his ass up and went to work), drinking, belching, an occasional scratch of his ass, and watching naked women dance around on the grainy tv. You guys never got the money to buy a new one, maybe if he went to his job down the street at the local corner store he could afford more than the crappy ten dollar pizza down the block.

But who knows, you’ve seen those disgusting scenes, at an age way too young to even comprehend, so did you really have any knowledge? You were a curious kid, not a dumb one, you could easily depict whether or not the porn on the screen was realistic or not. Most the time it was the latter. The overdramatized moans and screams made you wince, on more than a few occasions, but it’s not like the paper thin walls separating the living room and yours did much to help. From having no mother figure to really correct your behavior, and a father that couldn’t give a fuck less, it started your one of many issues. Discovering sex at a really young age, not the act itself but any form of porn an eight year old could get their sticky, grubby hands on. The noises from the tv haunted your mind in a chilling way, making you want to stay as far away from it as possible, yet were still so fucking intrigued.

Until it was the start of the 9th grade, and surprisingly the comments the ‘women’ made in the locker rooms were still present in your mind, not surrounding your every thought, but still there deep down in the back of your mind. ‘Girls who are virgins are lame prudes’. If only you knew that those girls were bluffing about the whole virginity loss thing, but it seemed convincing enough at the time. The way they described how their ‘mans’ bent them over countless times over their granite countertops, or on the elementary school playground. It sounds absurd now, but they had big boobs, and horny teenage boys liked big boobs, so it must of been true, right?

And now here you are, at an headache inducing party, or rave, whatever you wanna call it, watching Gojo talk to yet another girl, more like plain on flirting. She seemed like one of those girls that wouldn’t know if a forty pound dumbbell hit her right in the forehead, so just Gojo’s usual fuck of the night. All he did was stare at her boobs which were spilling out the corset of her trashy costume, and make very poor conversation. What a man whore. You could see Gojo’s shit eating smirk on his lips even from far away and in the almost completely pitch black room, only flashing lights that could cause seizures giving you any sort of seeing ability.

His eyes move from her lips to her tits. Lips—tits—lips—tits. You just wanted to knock the red solo cup out of his overly large fingers and put them somewhere useful. (Such as your aching cunt just dripping in anticipation.) You wanted to go to the nearest open bedroom, drag him by is weirdly hot silver chain, and let him have at you. But you hold back your desires, trying not to let into another spiral of emotions with this man, the same cycle that’s been happening forever now.

You practically crush your phone with your bare hand after receiving that last text, but you refrain and shove it back into your bra since your day to day purse didn’t match your outfit. You take a long deep breath, one you often had to take due to Gojo’s infuriating cocky persona. Walking over to the kitchen, a mini bar was set up in this random kids house, which wasn’t even his you assumed by the family pictures propped up on basically every flat surface.

You hated the parties your friends dragged you to, you felt too old to be in the scene of just barely legal adults blacking out and throwing up so much to the point of you having to look around before walking to avoid stepping in someone’s chunky puke. But to your surprise you actually enjoyed the noise, not making it, but watching others create it. It gave you some sort of distraction from your thoughts which seemed to consume and take over your life since the 9th grade. You wouldn’t call it trauma necessarily, it’s not like you knew you had a fucked up home life until you were fresh out of high school. People on the outside saw your drunken father, crappy rundown home, and the rotational three outfits you wore each week to school and saw it has straight abuse. On some level, the lack of care you were given could be seen as abuse by default, but you were a happy kid. Sure, you were exposed to porn by the time you were eight, but it was just normal to you…in some kinda depressing fashion.

Gojo came from a completely different background, whenever you stepped into his gated community it felt like you were in some other world, an insanely futuristic environment. He was rich, but he wasn’t cocky like those spoiled brats you see on those UK television shows like Super Nanny. At least not when you two had met. It wasn’t a close friendship necessarily, but you two enjoyed each other’s company’s to the point of having sex with each other, so maybe you were closer than you originally thought.

⎜12:08 am Mr. Cock (Gojo): don’t forget you made me like this. don’t get pissy abt what u created.

You dig your phone back out of your lace bra and scoff when you see the message, your hand threatening to go find this piece of shit and chuck your phone at his big head instead. You don’t answer, stuffing your phone back where it came from. You gently push other drunks out your way, reaching for a beer from the ice chest. Using your mouth (one Gojo would call very useful and efficacious), popping it open with your canines.

One thing you loathed about Gojo (not to mention the other 52 things written in your notes) was he thought you were the reason for his ‘fuck boy’ qualities. Yes, you both took each other’s virginity’s, it’s not like he didn’t want it, in fact he wanted it more than you, judging the throbbing of his cock when he first showed it to you. It always comes flooding into your mind every night, more so each Halloween. You came to resent the holiday since it only reminded you of that night 13 years ago. Despite it being over a decade ago, you still recall the nervousness and excitement that you felt when he finally came inside you. It makes you laugh when you remember how totally freaked you were, how you thought you’d get pregnant with his baby.

At that moment you repeated over and over again how ‘this was a terrible idea’ and ‘i hate that you let us do this’. It was an all around shit show for a good twenty minutes before Gojo finally snapped and yelled at you to get over it. Besides it not being the most calm way to handle your panic, it worked. Who could blame him, he was scared shitless too. You both ended the night by trick or treating, it was a kinda dud of a night considering typical trick or treating hours ended two hours ago during your private fun. Luckily Gojo spotted a house on your near midnight walk, a load of halloween candy left in a bowl on some old lady’s porch.

“We shouldn’t-“ but of course, he didn’t let you finish, pressing a shy brief kiss on your lips instead. He had a subtle blush on his pale cheeks, a blush you would only see now during your angry make up sex sessions. Grabbing your hand, and practically dragging you to the house. “Just grab the fuckin’ candy, ya scaredy cat.” He laughs, looking around the dark streets before snagging the candy bowl with a big orange pumpkin face plastered on the front, running off.

“Gojo! YOU FUCKIN’ THEIF!” you giggle, suddenly the porch lights flicker on like some horror movie, and your heart drops into your ass. The door swung open to have your neighbor, Mrs. Miller standing there seething, her mini chihuahua perched in her arms like it was her newborn child. Gojo stopped in his tracks, still heavily breathing like some out of shape forty year old.

“Why you little!” Mrs. Miller reached out to grab you, only for you to duck her failed attempt of dragging you back. Gojo jumped up and down with an amused smile on his face, calling out for you to run faster, which you try to comply as best as possible. You run over to Gojo as fast as your legs would carry you, locking arms and running to who knows where, you can’t quite remember each detail. After that point the rest of the night was a blur to you, still thirteen years later. The sound of Mrs. Miller’s feisty chihuahua, later identified as ‘FeFee’ chasing after you being the most exciting part of the whole ordeal. Gojo and you laughing your way home, still heaving from running so fast from the tiny animal, a ‘disgrace’ to the dog community as he called it.

You both promised that after the scare of possibly having to raise a baby at the ripe age of 14, (and almost having bloody ankles due to FeFee) that fucking each other would be a one time thing.

But it wasn’t.

“F-fuck..! mhmph—God!” He continuously rammed into you from the back, his hands gripping your waist so hard it felt like you had broken bones. Your halloween costume was now thrown somewhere in the corner of this bedroom, who’s bedroom? You had no idea, but at the moment you couldn’t give two shits.

“Yeah? You like that baby?” Gojo thrusted harder, making a broken cry fall from your lips like water. “Knew you c-couldnt…resist my cock any longer, bitch.” Possessed grunts come from him at each thrust and movement he makes. Vibrations from the music of the party travel through the walls, Gojo going deeper and faster to the sound of the horrible rave music downstairs.

If it wasn’t a party, people might of thought a murder was going on by the sounds of your wails of pleasure, but it was normal to fuck at a party, no matter the location.

Tears seep into the pillow that the side of your face was squished down onto, mascara running down your face as you sob from a mixture of pain and pleasure. “Gojo!” you sob, the pleasure becoming too much to bare, yet you couldn’t get the established safe word (which you two only made in 10th grade because you overstimulated him by riding his cock to the point of him passing out) to come out. His dick was that fucking good.

The sound of his heavy, cum filled balls coming in contact with your plush ass make you clench around his length, causing an animalistic moan from Gojo. A room echoing SMACK comes in contact with your ass, making you thrust your back into him, fucking him right back. The burning of the stinging sensation leaves you wanting more, the feeling of his hand still lingering on your left cheek.

Gojo begins going at an alarmingly hasty pace, his whole body aching for more of you, all of you, every single cell. The sound of your sloppy pussy squelching each time he pulls in and out, makes the heat in the pit of his stomach rise. By now you can’t see clearly, eyes welled up with tears and the remains of gooey eyelash glue. One of his hands leave your sore hip, grasping into your messy locks, giving it a good tug “MHMP! ….F-f—fuck!” This only causes him to yank your whole head back, you look up through your lashes, which are stuck together with a mixture of glue and sweat.

“Y-yeah,” he huffs, gripping your roots to a point of it being just downright painful. “keep looking at me….yeah mhmph—j-just like that.” The intense eye contact makes his thrusts even quicker and more efficient, his fat, squishy balls hitting your puffy clit over and over. “So fuckin’ tight for me.” Another hard spank wipes itself across both of your cheeks, the jiggle of them causing yet another guttural moan from Gojo’s throat.

Your soppy wet cunt drips all down his cock, his balls picking up the reminisce of your warm, flowing juices. Gojo’s fingers unravel themselves from your now frizzy hair, the thought of having to wash it later tonight makes you internally groan. His fingers make a slow, tantalizing path up and down your back, the contrast evident between his soft, gentle touch and his monstrous rock hard cock going in and out of your folds. Your face plants back down in the tear-drenched pillow case, the bed creaking from the force of your two bodies going at it.

His slow paced, soft finger touches come to an abrupt end when it meets your soft breasts. An aching cry sounding from your lips as his pointer and thumb mesh together around your now hard nipple. “Mhm…look at you…all whiny for m-me.“ He thrusts harder, your cervix feeling almost numb and incredibly bruised. At this point, your slobbering at the mouth like a dog with rabies, eyes rolling to the back of your brain each time his cock hits every delicious spot.

Gojo’s movements start to get sloppy, as well does the kisses he starts to place on your neck, back, and shoulders. The quick erratic pace starts to slow, forearms trembling from the strength he’s used to hold them on the side of your head all night. His thrusts are slow, long, almost like he’s grinding in slow motion, yet it’s not any less effective. Your thighs begin to shake with overwhelming pleasure, the pressure your body is holding in making you wanna scream it all out. “Mhmph g-gonna cum!” You practically scream a moan out, making Gojo’s lips turn upwards in a smug grin. His lips make their way from the left side of your neck to the middle, and then to the right, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses in their wake. Dark red and purple bruised hickeys are now spread all down your body, surely to be left there for weeks to come.

“Nuh uh…not yet,” Gojo grunts as he feels your warm cunt clench around his throbbing cock for the millionth time that night. “This is my pussy…I g-get to tell you when to cum.” You almost wanna roll your eyes at his statement but your too drunk off his cock to care. You attempt to protest, the knot in your stomach becoming too hot to handle, but you get shut up right away when his fingers twist around your sensitive nipple once more, letting out a deep moan from your soul. Your hands grip the silk sheets in desperation, needing to grab something in order to keep you stable. “Mhm, tell me baby…who’s pussy is this?”

You cry into the pillow, pain, pleasure, and the feeling of being absolutely turned on in your whines. After not answering right away, Gojo grabs you by the hair again, yanking your head back, causing your neck to stretch to lengths you didn’t even know you had the flexibility to do so. “I asked, who does…this pussy belong to?” He says through gritted teeth. You feel every 8 inches of his cock in your stretched out pussy, every inch filling you up to as much as you could take. Each vein, the pounding pulse that acts as a second heartbeat, every thick, gurthy inch. When you don’t respond for the second time, too delirious to even understand what’s going on, he throws your head roughly back into the pillow, picking up his pace again.

Everything able to clench on your body does, gripping the pillow with such force that your knuckles turn white. Drops of sweat patter onto your back from Gojo’s forehead, the warm salty liquid making you squirm. Another sudden spank lands on your fat ass cheeks, and you couldn’t help but let loose. “FUCK—GOJO!” Strings of loud breaking moans and screams escape your mouth, sounding like a real murder now.

Gojo throws his head back once he feels your warm, sticky cum surround his palpitating cock. He pumps his dick back into you, pushing your cum back into your dripping wet cunt as far as his cock would let it. He himself finally let’s go, the thin string in his body snaps as his warm liquids mix with yours, in all too familiar feeling. His deep moans rush right to your core, the thrusts becoming inconsistent and sloppy once more. You hear the big analog clock from the entry way downstairs, giving you a slight reminder where the hell you were. Some random persons house, where his parents would probably be any second, and maybe you were even fucking in their bed. You bite your lip, slightly turned on by the fact of possibly getting caught, like you were a teenager back home, sucking Gojo’s cock before his father returned from work.

You whisper moan Gojo’s name over and over like a mantra, in other words, thanking him for finally giving you what your aching pussy had needed. You can tell he’s grateful too, being more gentle as if he had not just fucked your lights out. Caressing your back, like he did the first time this toxic relationship began back in 9th grade. Any memory loss from him talking to that girl just an hour ago was completely thrown out the window, even though you knew deep down you were just like her. One of his play things, the only difference was you weren’t oblivious to his motives. In fact you played into them, driving the toxicity just as much as he did. It made it fun that way. No matter how many guys you fucked, the number of cocks you sucked, the lips you kissed, none of them compared to his, and it made you feel sick in the most pleasurable way possible.

Gojo eventually pulls out, after speaking strange sweet nothings into your ear, which you haven’t heard since he was fifteen. You hated how it made your heart feel so warm, unlike the feeling of the cool air hitting your cunt. The cold air makes you wince, missing his cock already despite still feeling it’s outline in your folds. Fingers leave your hard, tender nipples, bringing them down to your dripping cunt, wiping the access off your thighs.

You start to come back to reality from the moment, the room still filled with humid sticky air caused by the amount of hot breaths and touches made throughout. The only sounds now being your heavy breathing, reminding you of the night you two ran away from FeFee, and slurping from Gojo, licking away at his fingers coated with your sweet salty release. Your folds still leaking with a mixture of your cum, trickling down your painfully sore thighs.

Gojo looks at the syrupy goodness leaking onto the silk sheets, a liquid you would only expect to see on waffles at the local cafe down the street. He finally collapses on top of you, softly massaging your right side, face pressed into the crook of your sweating neck. Placing gentle kisses on your sticky skin, bodies molded into one by your muggy bodies. You savor the moment, knowing deep down in your heart that things would go back to how they were in just a couple hours, fighting, screwing other girls and guys, and all together, a toxic romance.

You sit on the curb, voices from the party still able to be heard as you wait for your cab. You sit there like you’ve been through hell and back, you were if it meant having the best sex you’ve had in a good long while. Sitting on one cheek, the other still too sore to have pressure applied to it, you hear a ding from your phone. You wait a minute, trying to calm your pounding headache from both the alcohol and the amazing sex you just endured. The cool fall air blowing past you as you open the text you received, a small smirk tugged up your chapped lips.

⎜1:34 am Mr. Cock (Gojo): had fun. see u next halloween baby 🫴🏻🍑

[raspberrybesitos]

mistletoe kisses | joel miller x f!reader

Main masterlist

Rating: M - 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2.6k

Summary: You decorate the Christmas tree with some help from Joel and Ellie.

Warnings: established relationship, post-outbreak, Jackson era, canon divergent bc nothing bad ever happens to them ever 😁, sickening fluff, pet names (honey, darlin’, baby, babydoll, etc), allusions to smut, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: surprise!!! i know i said this would be up on the 22nd, but i’ve got something else that will be up on saturday 🤭 and i just couldn’t stop thinking about giving this man a happy ending, including healing and starting new traditions with his family 😔 i wish joel was real 💔 anyway, i hope y’all enjoy! not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @/saradika

Grumbling, he treks behind you, snow crunching beneath his work boots as he cautiously lugs the saw in his hands.

You’re rambling about finding the perfect tree in front of him, Ellie asking a million questions about the tradition.

He hadn’t expected, intended, to find a partner in Jackson. That is until he saw you, lugging a heavy crate of harvested crops across the town, your wagon having been broken. Tommy had told him about you, how you were single.

“She’s sweet as pie, brother. She might be good for you. Real pretty too.” Joel recalls the conversation he had with Tommy before he stormed off to the barn.

His Southern hospitality lay dormant until he saw you struggling. The urge to help creeped up on him. His typical quite observant demeanor tossed out the window as he approached you.

“Need some help?” He asks.

You wipe your brow, huffing before laying your eyes on the broad, handsomely rugged man in front of you - it’s Tommy’s brother. His name escaping you briefly.

You beam. “Oh. Sure. Thank you…” you trail off, slightly off guard by his kind gesture. His large gloved hand extends out towards you.

“Joel,” he finishes your sentence. “Thank you, Joel,” your hand shaking his, giving him your name. It rolls off his tongue with a certain sweetness, sending a flurry of butterflies to swirl in your belly. You knew of him, but knew he was also not a man of many words. You had yet to make acquaintances with him and who you assume is his daughter.

“You’re Tommy’s brother right?” You curiously ask, attempting to make small talk as Joel grunts while picking up the crate.

“Yes ma’am.”

Smiling at his Southern drawl, you run to help him carry one side of the heavy crate, feeling bad letting him do all the work.

“Uh uh, what do you think you’re doin’?” He asks, brow raised as you both stop in your tracks. “Helping you,” you state. He chuckles, shaking his head as he begins to walk.

“I asked if you needed help, darlin’. ‘Sides, what kinda man would I be letting a pretty girl like you carry all this shit by herself? My momma would have me by the head, ‘s for damn sure.”

You open your mouth to detest the notion that women need any assistance from men, but he stops you before you can.

“‘N I know ya don’t need any help from any man. You women are tough as shit, met a lota you over the years. Jus’ wanna help, ‘s all.” He kindly explains. You don’t understand why he wants to help, why he’s approached you specifically.

You’re aware that he’s typically very reserved, not leaving his house if he doesn’t have to. You’ve heard things about his past, and Tommy having confided in you at times, but the world has gone to shit. Who are you to judge? Everyone’s done some horrible stuff to stay alive.

He’s also painfully handsome. Opting to not object to his help and company, you sigh.

“Well, at least let me take some of the vegetables,” you protest, grabbing bunches of carrots. He chuckles quietly.

“Sure thing, darlin’,” he mutters. The nickname catching you both by surprise as a sort of tension falls over you two.

Flashing him a grateful toothy grin, you gather the vegetables in your arms. He gives you a small smirk in return.

“So how are you liking Jackson? I don’t see you ‘round much,” you ask as you begin the trek to the dining hall.

“‘S good. Big change, learnin’ the ropes of patrol. Makin’ sure Ellie’s settlin’ in,” he states. “And Ellie’s…”

“My family,” he says firmly. You nod, internally assuming she’s not his biological daughter.

“Well, I hope you both settle in nicely.” He feels his heart soften at your kindness.

He thought you’d have shied away from him, that you’d have listened to what people are saying about him around town.

But you didn’t. You took to him kindly, warmly.

He’ll be damned if he told Tommy he was right about you, He’d never hear the end of it… but shit, was he right. You were so kind and open-minded, and so beautiful.

The both of you making small talk as you trek to the dining hall, Joel lugging the crate into the kitchen for prep as you follow behind. He places the crate on the floor with a grunt. You drop the carrots in the box afterwards.

Rising to his feet, he sighs as he wipes his hands on his jeans, you copying his actions.

“Thank you again, Joel. I really appreciate it,” you tell him again. “Ain’t no problem, darlin’.”

Silence fills the air, save for the clanging and clattering of utensils in the kitchen.

“Would you… would you like to have a drink sometime? As a, uh, form of repayment for helping me today,” you timidly ask. A small smile breaks out onto Joel’s face.

“You ain’t gotta repay me, darlin’. But I’d love to grab a drink with ya,” he says.

Smiling from ear to ear, you nod happily. “It’s a date,” you say, before slapping a hand over your mouth as your eyes go wide. “I-I’m sorry. It’s not a date, it doesn't have to be. I mean, u-unless you want-,” you nervously ramble before Joel cuts you off.

“‘S a date,” he rasps. A soft smile on both your faces. The rest is history.

He wouldn’t trade that moment for the world, as he’s got you by his side now. He just didn’t expect that drink to lead him to trudging through the woods in the freezing early morning to cut down a tree.

He’d much rather be sleeping right now on his day off, but he can never say no to his girls.

Making your way through the woods, you and Ellie wind through the path while Joel stands and watches. There aren’t many trees, but just enough to scour from.

Not seeing any you like, you continue to walk down the path. “What about this one?” Ellie asks, standing next to a fir no taller than Joel.

Your eyes light up, a sparkly smile illuminating your face.

“It’s perfect. Great find, Ellie!” You yelp, high fiving the girl who’s equally excited.

“Hey, Joel!” Ellie shouts through her hands, her cheeks rosy and nose frosted. He clambers through the trees, saw in hand with his signature scowl. “Find one?”

“Mhmm,” Ellie says while beaming, you nodding in agreement. Joel sighs as he begins to saw down the tree. The trunk’s not very thick, the branches skinny, but still full enough to mimick the times before.

It falls to the snow covered ground, you and Ellie taking a few steps back. Joel stomps over to it, hoisting it up over his shoulder.

“Thank you, honey,” you whisper against his ear before placing a kiss on his patchy beard. His body flushing hot red from heat despite the cold air.

“Sure thing, baby,” he says bashfully, smiling a smile only reserved for you. Lacing his fingers with yours, you walk hand-in-hand back to the house with Ellie rambling ahead of you, vibrating with excitement.

“Joel, could you move it a little to the left?” You ask, hands clasped together over your lips. Joel grunts, red in the face as he shoves the fir to the left.

“A little more, please?”

Another grunt.

“A liiiitttllleee more.”

With a sigh, he shoves it once more.

“Perfect!” You clap. Joel rises to his full height, groaning as his bones crack and ache. You stride to him, leaning in for a kiss.

He could never stay annoyed at you.

“Thank you, honey,” you mutter with a dopey grin. Joel mirrors your expression, wrapping his hands around your waist and pressing his lips against yours. A saccharine kiss, your fingers curling in his grays.

His heart flutters as you sigh into him, your contentment radiating through your chest and into his soul.

When the fuck did his heart ever flutter?

“You guys gonna do that all fucking day or what?!” Ellie shouts, cutting ribbon and twine for the decorations.

You both startle at the sound of her voice, jumping in Joel’s arms. Joel glares at Ellie as laughter bubbles over your lips.

“Sorry, Ellie,” you call out. “Seriously, thank you, honey,” you tell Joel with a pat on his broad chest.

“No problem, darlin’,” he says softly with a swift kiss to your forehead before releasing you from his grasp. Joel strides into the kitchen to heat up some milk, with you rushing over to Ellie who sits at the dining table with an array of supplies.

You’re so good with Ellie, so patient with her while gently explaining how to string the dried oranges on the twine. She gets the hang of it pretty easily, holding it up and beaming with pride. Your giddiness mirroring hers, praising her as you waltz into the kitchen with Joel.

Placing a chaste kiss to his cheek, you flit around him as you pop some kernels in a hot pan. Transforming them into popcorn to make more garlands, and working in comfortable silence alongside each other.

You dump the popcorn into a bowl, you place a tender kiss on his shoulder before returning to Ellie.

Joel feels warm, and it’s not from the heat of the stove.

He preps mugs of hot chocolate for all of you, the chocolate powder stale but still good - the novelty of the gesture still there and just as sweet.

Padding into the living room, the sight of you two making decorations at the table and placing them on the tree tugs at Joel’s heart strings. Remembering how he’d help Sarah decorate their tree every year. Swallowing his grief, he allows himself to enjoy this moment while remembering his daughter.

That’s something you’re teaching him - not to take moments, things, people for granted.

Despite the pain, he knows he’ll confide in you later tonight about it when you’re alone. He sets the mugs on the table, making you pop your head up to flash him a dazzling smile.

“Thank you, honey.”

“‘Course, baby,” he says with a wink. Your smile grows wider, Ellie looking up and rolling her eyes. She playfully gags, Joel smacking his lips as his smile morphs into a scowl.

“Knock it off, kid,” he scolds.

“You knock it off, old man. We’re working here, and you keep distracting my partner,” she retorts. He scoffs, rolling his eyes. You can’t help, but laugh at their banter.

“Sorry, Ellie. I promise I’m listening,” your laughter dissolving into giggles. Joel rolls his eyes before getting a fire going in the fireplace.

Standing back and taking in the scene playing out in front of him. Hot chocolate, a tree, decorations being strung upon it - how is this possible? What did he do to deserve this?

He shakes the thought from his head, not questioning the good thing – the very good thing – in front of him. Instead, he enjoys watching his girls flit around the tree.

Ellie excitedly attempts to place the makeshift star on the tree that she crafted out of some stray branches and extra paper she had in her sketch pad.

She can’t reach, being significantly shorter than the tree. Huffing in defeat, she shoots you a look - both of you thinking the same thing. She whips around, paper star in hand.

“Joel, wanna do the honors?” She asks, holding out the star. Joel swallows thickly, never having thought he’d be doing this again.

“Sure,” he softly says, taking the star from Ellie and setting it atop the tree. The three of you stand back, admiring your hard work in silence, as you tightly wrap your arms around Joel’s middle. He holds you tighter.

“Looks good,” he mumbles. You nod, soft smile on your face.

“Hell yeah, it does!” Ellie giddily yells before cutting off her next thought. “No way, is that hot chocolate?!” She shouts, rushing to the table to grab a mug.

“Yeah, careful kid, it’s still hot,” Joel warns, still wound up in your arms. Ellie blows caution to the wind as she gulps it down.

“Ellie, slow down! You’re gonna get a stomachache,” you scold lightly. “It’s hot chocolate! When the hell am I ever gonna come across this again?!”

“I’ll find some more, jus’ slow down! Gonna be all fuckin’ hopped up on sugar,” Joel begrudgingly says. Rolling her eyes, she glances at the clock. Her eyes bug out of her head.

“Shit! I told Cat I’d meet her at 6!” She shouts before gulping down the rest of her hot chocolate, slamming the mug on the table.

“Be back later!” She says, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Be back by 9!” Joel shouts. “Mhmm,” her tone dismissive. “I mean it, Ellie,” he warns.

“Sure thing, old man!” She says before reaching for the doorknob. “Ellie, 9 o’clock, okay?” You chime in, asking.

She turns around, taking in the both of you. “Okay,” she says with another roll of her eyes and an exasperated sigh before heading out the door. It slams shut, making you and Joel wince.

Joel rolls his eyes. “Girl don’t listen,” rubbing his face as he grumbles.

“She’s just excited, can you blame her? Besides, she’s safe here, Joel,” you say, comfortingly rubbing your hands up and down his broad flannel-covered chest.

“I know. Just still getting used to all this,” he rasps. The two of you still stand in the doorway, wrapped up in one another before a grin breaks out on your face.

“Oh, could you help me with one more thing?” You beam at him. His brow quirks up in confusion. “‘Course, baby. What do ya need?”

You unravel yourself from his embrace, padding into the kitchen. He hears you clambering, his curiosity peaking. You return with something behind your back, smiling wider now.

Whipping the sprig of mistletoe from behind your back, you hold it above your head. His features softening.

Joel immediately recognizes what you’re holding, beaming at your antics.

“Could you help me hang this up please?” You ask, drawing out the last syllable, batting your lashes at him with a sly smirk.

“Y’know, if ya wanted a kiss, all ya gotta do is ask, babydoll,” he rasps as he takes it from you, not missing the chance to place a teasing kiss on your cheek. Waves of heat run through you from head to toe.

Joel hangs the mistletoe with ease on a nail that’s been conveniently placed above the kitchen entryway, right where you’re both standing.

You must’ve put it up there when he was on patrol a few days ago.

The red ribbon you tied around the plant stands out against the dark framing, the fire crackles in the background and illuminates the house.

“Well would ya look at that,” his voice low and husky as he locks his gaze with yours. A goofy grin on your face. “Huh. Guess you gotta kiss me now.”

“Don’t need mistletoe for that, babydoll,” he whispers. The two of you connect your lips with each other’s. Sighing into him, you finally have a moment alone with him today. You card your fingers through his hair, a satisfied groan escapes him.

You pull away breathlessly, both yours and Joel’s eyes heavy and glazed over.

“Ya know… Ellie won’t be back til 9. We’ve got some time left,” you teasingly whisper in his ear while he places a kiss to your neck.

“Lead the way, darlin,” he rasps, the two of you rushing upstairs.

just felt like writing some tooth rotting fluff for my Joely, i love him sm 😔

i hope y’all enjoyed! 🫶🏼 thank you for reading 🩷

tag list: @gracieheartspedro @sapphic-gardn @undrthelights @javierpena-inatacvest @nostalxgic @party-hearses @mandoisapunk @tinygarbage @bastardmandennis @janaispunk @persephone-girl @harriedandharassed @its-nebuleuse

[chelseeebe]

just wanna (get with you).

okkkk i promise i am not neglecting promise (i am) but i just had to get this out before the thought left my mind. this is just to say nancy wheeler i love you and i’m sorry

18+. smut. steve is an adulterer. but it’s okieee bc it’s hot <3

this is very much richboy!steve, he is very cocky and brash and very much not afraid of it

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

you had prepared to spend thanksgiving break alone in your room, honestly quite happy not to have to go home and deal with your car crash of a family.

that was until stacy had caught wind of your lonely plans and interjected, offering you an invite to her family’s massive home. now, it’d be rude not to accept, right?

you totally weren’t influenced by the fact that her older brother would definitely be there, not at all.

the drive up was a long slog, hours until you ended up in the middle of buttfuck indiana. it’s not somewhere you ever envisioned yourself spending the holidays but she had ensured that it was nice enough. her parents were.. interesting but as you were there, they’d probably at least try to keep up appearances. there wasn’t much else going on but in this tiny town but it gave you a chance to relax and ogle her brother.

their house is huge, like, ridiculously big. much bigger than their small family needed. from what stacy has confided in you, you can gather that her parents are hardly even home. they like to make a big deal about holidays to give the impression of a well put together family but if anything, they’re on the brink of divorce and only holding it together for the fear of being seen as failures.

not that your family are much better, but at least they don’t pretend to like eachother.

steve is up at the door the moment stacy unlocks it, waiting to see which of her sorority friends she’d decided to bring along.

he grins the second he sees you, taking your bag out of your hand and introducing himself before you can even begin to speak. not that you mind.

‘leave her alone, steve,’ stacy warns, rolling her eyes as she begins up the stairs, motioning for you to follow.

‘why don’t you leave me alone? i’m just being a good host, isn’t that right?’ he smiles at you, lugging your bag up the extravagant staircase and toward the room you’ve been assigned.

it’s not as if there’s a lack of them, a multitude of white doors that probably sat empty. it’s incredible how a house could cost so much and yet lack character despite the ample space to decorate.

she shoves him out of the way the second you make it into the room, ‘don’t you have anything better to do?’

‘uh uh,’ he’s smirking now and it’s making your heart feel funny. it’s wrong, totally wrong. but you can’t help it.

when he’d appeared on move in day you’d been star struck, his caramel coloured hair flopping into his eyes and the way his t-shirt clung to his arms had caught you immediately.

you and the rest of the girls in the house, obviously.

‘well go and find something to do you fucking loser,’ pushing him out of the door and slamming it in his face.

you couldn’t exactly tell her that it was fine and actually you preferred if he stayed.. so you grin and give her a fake chuckle, looking around at the room you were to call home for the next week.

‘i’m sorry,’ she sighs, ‘ignore him.. he’s just like that,’ walking over to the pristine bed. it obviously hadn’t been slept in for a while, you don’t doubt that they rarely have guests.

‘it’s okay,’ you smile, exhilarated for what this week will bring.

-

you don’t see much of the illusive mr. harrington, burrowed away in his office for most of the day with his wife busying around the kitchen, putting on an unnecessarily large spread each day. now you’re not a psychologist but even you can gather that she’s trying to make up for something.

stacy had bundled you into her room under the pretence of studying, both of you sat on her bed with neglected open books. opting to gossip about shit in your house rather than the looming finals.

steve knocks on the door and rushes in without waiting, standing in the doorway with a devilish grin. ‘mom’s drunk again.. you two wanna get out of here before it gets ugly?’ leaning against the doorframe.

he looks extra good today, his grey sweatpants sitting just right. you’re mindful to pull your eyes away when he nears the bed though his eyes never leave you.

‘like what?’ stacy frowns, sitting up and closing the untouched book.

‘i dunno..’ he shrugs, ‘i just don’t wanna be here when he gets back and she’s drunk again,’ fiddling with some trinket on stacy’s shelf.

you can tell that stacy’s not keen on the idea but she doesn’t want to be here for that scene either. you can empathise entirely, which is the exact reason you decided not to go home.

‘okay,’ she turns to you, ‘you okay with that?’

‘yeah.. sounds good,’ smiling at your friend. in your peripheral, you can see steve’s lips twitch into a smirk, cocky bastard.

much to your dismay, the three of you end up bowling. which you wouldn’t usually mind, but the alley was full to the brim with parents and their screaming children, running around the lanes hyped up on copious amounts of sugar.

not to mention the blaring christmas music that was entirely too loud for a tuesday afternoon.

‘you bowl much?’ steve scoots over on the bench, leaning in to whisper of the screeching kids.

‘not really,’ shaking your head innocently, ‘do you?’

‘yeah i’m alright.. i can teach you, if you want?’ ever the opportunist. who were you to deny him that?

‘okay,’ you giggle, blinking up at his chocolate coloured eyes.

it’s pathetic but your knees almost crumble when he walks up behind you, arms coming to envelope yours, large hands perched over yours as stacy tuts and turns away.

‘like this..’ his chest presses against your back, pulling your arm back and letting the ball roll down the lane.

you very nearly groan when he pulls away, hand lingering on your elbow as the pair of you watch the pins knock over. he smiles gently at you without even looking at the pins, he’s already sure he’d won.

‘thanks,’ you nod, keeping your own smile contained as you walk back to the bench, squishing in next to a less than impressed stacy. she’s not stupid but doesn’t dare to say anything and you’re grateful for that at least.

you watch steve take his turn, wondering how much longer you can feign incompetence to get him to touch you.

-

their house is quiet when you get back. eerily quiet. stacy and steve share a look before heading inside and you already know to prepare for the worst.

mr. harrington is sat facing the blank television, sipping on a small glass of what you presume is whiskey. the fire blazing in front of him, crackling loudly in the otherwise silent house.

‘your mother’s in bed,’ is all he says, refusing to turn around to face his children. he’s a stoic man at the best of times but seemed extra cold tonight. you don’t want to think about what had happened while you were out.

the atmosphere brings you crashing down out of your high, the loud bowling alley seemed like a dream compared to the moody room you stood in. at least your family were entertaining in all their madness. this was just depressing and you don’t have to wonder just why stacy is the way she is now.

steve slinks off upstairs without saying a word and stacy follows, head ducked down. they’ve probably been through this exact routine a hundred times before. you follow along silently, assuming that mr. harrington definitely didn’t want you hanging around downstairs.

before stacy slips away into her room, you grab onto her elbow, pulling her round to face you, ‘my mom drinks too.. i know what it’s like,’ offering some meek words of encouragement. it’s not a lot but you can empathise with the sinking feeling you know she’s feeling.

she gives you a small smile, pulling you in for a quick hug as the shower starts in the bathroom to your left. steve hadn’t hung around, disappearing before you even made it up the stairs.

‘night,’ you mutter before entering your own room.

there had been a tiny part of you that had hoped maybe tonight something would happen but with the scene downstairs and steve’s eagerness to get away, you doubt it.

-

there’s an almost silent knock at your door, if you were any sleepier, you would’ve missed it.

you know who it is.. what’s waiting on the other side of that door and for a second, you contemplate it. you could very easily turn over and drift off to sleep without ever finding out what could’ve been.. but, you’re not going to do that. not after you’d optimistically worn your best pajamas, dousing yourself in perfume before you had climbed into bed.

sliding out of the bed to open the door quietly and just as you expected, steve is on the other side with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

he doesn’t speak before stepping into the room, shutting the door gently as you stand expectantly before him. your heart is pounding, it’d jump out of your chest if it could.

‘steve,’ you barely whisper, ignoring the growing ache between your thighs. enthralled by the sheer tension in the room, it makes the air heavy, weighing on your shoulders as you practically pant at him.

in one quick move he’s stood in front of you, hands cradling your waist, confidence oozing off of his smile. his hair is still wet, falling onto his face perfectly. it’s almost cruel that someone could look so good so effortlessly.

‘i need you,’ he whispers, his spider-like lashes cascading a shadow over his face in the dull light. he’s so perfect it hurts.

you choose not to reply with words, hastily planting your lips on his, closing the minuscule gap between your bodies as your chest presses to his. you’re walked backwards towards the bed, the excitement is palpable, his hands barely able to contain themselves as they grip and squeeze your flesh.

steve falls backwards onto the bed, pulling you atop of him, clumsily readjusting your knees either side of his hips, gasping into his slack mouth when his grinds upwards, his already erect cock nudging against your core.

pulling your shirt over your head before reconnecting his lips to your jaw, planting hungry kisses to the exposed skin of your neck. this is everything you’ve dreamed of since you arrived, the feel of him desperately moving beneath you becoming entirely too much. you needed him now.

he shimmies his own sweatpants down his thighs, choosing boldly to not wear any underwear. he’s big. his cock springing up against his stomach, gazing down into the space between you, mouth hung open as he works your shorts down with his delicate fingers.

‘what?’ he hushes innocently as if he doesn’t already know. his hand leaves your thigh to wrap around the base of his dick, pumping his fist ever so slowly.

your eyes meet his again, feeling your cheeks flush as the corner of his mouth twitches. if he weren’t so hot, his cockiness would be sickening. but you’re not one to bend to the will of men, brushing off his nerve and instead moving to grip onto his shoulders, positioning yourself above his leaking cock.

‘i know what you sorority girls are like.. you don’t have to- fuck,’ his head rolling back as you lower yourself onto him, gasping quietly at the feeling of fullness that quickly overtakes every other sense.

your fingers clamp around his jaw, pulling his face back up to meet yours, ‘what was that?’ sighing through muffled moans as you begin to rut your hips.

you have him at your mercy, moving your hips antagonistically slow, relishing in the sight of his hooded eyes struggling to stay open, soft pants escaping his lips with every careful movement.

‘ho- shit,’ his fingernails leaving crescent moons into your hips and ass, desperate to cling onto your body in any way he can. guiding your body up and down with the palms of his hands.

‘shh,’ you mutter, connecting your lips to the corner of his mouth in an attempt to quiet his groans. as lavish as this house is, you can bet that it’s not soundproof.

‘you’re so.. fuck- faster baby,’ he whines into your mouth, unappreciative of the calm pace you had set. enjoying the fact that you now held the upper hand, but also acutely aware that the sounds of skin-on-skin are indisputable, paired with his grunts, you’d be caught out in a second.

‘nuhuh,’ shaking your head slightly, face pressed into his sharp jaw, hoping to stifle some of the noises come from your throat.

this is when steve decides he’s had enough, this was his house and if anyone had anything to say then they could. his arm snakes around your waist, holding you in place above him as his legs spread, heels digging into the mattress.

your lips connect once again, in a sloppy kiss that requires minimal effort as his hips begin to thrust up, punching against that soft, spongy spot deep within. and now you’re the one responsible for the too-loud moans, practically screaming into his mouth as his tongue slips into your open mouth. his smirk evident against your lips as his thrusts grow faster.

chasing the same high you can feel growing in the pits of your stomach. you’re not even kissing at this point, lips pressed against the stubble on his cheek as his grip tightens, low grunts rumbling into the minimal space between you with every thrust.

‘oh god,’ you mewl, the all too familiar twist in your gut as his hips begin to stutter, the sound of your bodies connecting was spurring both of you on. not caring about your volume level as you come crashing over the edge.

babbling his name over and over again as you clench around him, shoving your face into his neck as pleasure soars all the way down to your toes, the sensation overwhelming your poor fucked-out brain.

his hands paw at the doughy flesh of your ass, resigning his last bit of energy for his last thrusts, hot spurts of cum paint your walls. steve’s teeth graze against your bare shoulder, suppressing his almighty moan as you collapse into a heap on top of him.

you feel like jelly, unable to lift your head when he pulls out, allowing him to manhandle your body as he shuffles down the bed. you shift slightly, moving to the empty space beside him, reaching down for the blanket, desperate for some modesty despite the explicit scene this room had just witnessed.

that was everything you’d imagined it’d be and more.

‘jesus,’ he sniffs, relaxing into your bed as if he belonged there, ‘anyone ever told you how fucking good you feel?’ his arm reaching out to pull your body into his once more.

‘shut up,’ you mumble, still very much coming back to earth. trying not to get too comfortable with this arrangement but letting your leg slide between his.

his other hand flicks the tiny lamp off, leaving the room in complete darkness. toned arms coming to rest around your waist, chin resting against your head.

‘you can’t sleep in here,’ you warn, though you wouldn’t complain if he did.

‘why not? this is my house, i can sleep wherever i want,’ his fingertips dart around your bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

you don’t argue, settling into your comfy position nestled into his side. it’s not long before sleep takes over as his fingers trace silly patterns into your back.

-

but you’re rudely awoken at stupid o’clock in the morning, the sun barely rising outside of the tiny window. steve’s grumbling, tapping softly on your shoulder.

‘i’ve gotta go,’ he whispers into your hair, pulling the blanket off of his body and onto yours.

you’re barely coherent enough to understand what he’s saying, nodding along absentmindedly as sleep negs to take over again. ever the gentleman, he places a kiss to your forehead before climbing out of bed and rushing out of the room.

he’s gone before you even wake up fully, not registering what had happened until you wake up again, this time at a more appropriate hour.

it’s only then that fear takes over. had you misjudged how loud you were? what if someone had heard? there’s no way they’d turf you out on thanksgiving.. would they?

yet all seems normal when you slink downstairs, joining stacy at the table as she butters toast without a word to be said about your antics. you pray to every being above that you had gone undetected.

‘morning sleepyhead,’ stacy utters, seemingly in a much better mood than the one you left her in last night, ‘sleep well?’

you stare at her for a moment, deciding if the question is loaded or if she’s genuinely interested in how you slept.

‘yeah.. really good, you?’ testing the waters.

‘yeah not bad,’ she smiles, a genuine smile that allows you to release the breath you didn’t know you were even holding.

phew. you were safe.

‘it’s about to get uh.. tense today so, we can just hang out in my room until dinner,’ she nods assuringly. you trust her, not wanting to bare witness to mr. harrington and his cryptic behaviour.

before you can reply, the front door opens and a small brunette walks in with steve trailing closely. behind her, carrying what looks like a suitcase with the most displeased look plastered on his face.

the woman hangs her coat on the hook, flashing a quick wave towards the kitchen where you sat gawping before heading upstairs quickly.

from here, she looked like a cousin or something, someone you hadn’t been told was attending.

she’s pretty, gorgeous eyes and a polite smile that makes you want to smile.

‘who’s that?’ you ask, perplexed at the sight of this stranger who is obviously so comfortable in their home.

‘oh, that’s nancy,’ stacy continues with her toast, not at all bothered by the new arrival.

‘she’s steve’s fiancée.’

[lowkeychenle]

HELLO MY DEAR I WOULD LIKE TO MAKE A REQUEST PLEASE 🌹 thought abt this classic scenario w chenle and immediately thought of ur writing hehe so like.... a fic where y'all go to your parents' house to visit and you stay the night and chenle's been eyeing you all day and now ofc he's horny as hell and the cliche of fucking when ur parents are right next door and trying not to be heard commences 😈 bonus points when ur jokingly trying to put up a front of "noooo its so wrong" but chenle knowsss you'll fold eventually and melt bc of his kisses and be putty in his hands.... also when his dirty talk is all like "i knew u wanted this" and how ur so dirty for seducing him and doing this when ur parents are right in the next room and can hear u and he has to put his hand over ur mouth to cover the noise (when its literally his fault like 🤨) anyways i know you'll come out w something amazing as always so thank you in advance my love 💓

- mari

oh my god hello this took me thirty freaking years I'm SOOOO sorry but I'm here and I tried to write this so plzzzz let me know if this is awful :D (plz I wrote this in like an hour last night i haven't written chenle smut in so long i was going through withdrawals)

Description: You and Chenle visit your family, and things get frisky idk y'all lol this was a request :D

Genre: Smut *MDNI*

Word Count: 2,165

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader

Content Warnings: Chenle says pretty girl, slut, mentions of the possibility of being caught by parents, orgasm denial, a mirror is involved, teasing, yk the drill LOL it's all here yay

Juliet's Masterlist | thoughts are appreciated loll

smut below the cut!

All you wanted to do was have a seamless visit with your parents. You and Chenle were going to stay there for the weekend since you hadn’t seen your family in a while, so you figured your boyfriend would be on his best behavior. Oh, how wrong you were.

It started off simple—quick smacks on your ass, resting his warm hand on your thigh while his thumb rubs your skin. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing his attempts to turn you on are working, so you opt to ignore him completely.

It doesn’t work. He pushes and pushes your limits until you have to swat him away from you. Your last straw was when his touch trailed over to your inner thigh, up, up, up until his fingertips brushed your clothed core. You jolted so hard, you startled your parents at the dinner table. Chenle, of course, thought it was hilarious. He’d been wanting you bad all day, and it wasn’t his fault you wore a skirt.

What’s worse, is that when he was preparing to finger you under the table, he held a steady and respectful conversation with your dad. As much as you hate to admit it, the two sides of Chenle on display for you drove you crazy.

Your father leaves the table to answer an important call, and your mom chooses then to get up and grab the desert.

“C’mon, babe,” Chenle murmurs, tapping your leg. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Are you crazy? We’re with my parents, Chenle.”

He hums, dropping his head on your shoulder to easily press his lips to your neck. “I know you. You want me.”

“(Y/N), can you help me?” your mom calls from the kitchen.

“Coming!” you yell, quickly pulling yourself from Chenle and glaring at him the whole way out of the room.

You hate how right he is—how damp your panties are at the thought of him taking you here when your parents might hear. It should repulse you, but instead, you feel your entire body heat up at the thought.

Desert drags, and Chenle rubs the top of your leg where it meets your hip, back and forth while you squirm at the contact. If your parents notice how erratic you’ve become, they don’t mention it.

“Mom, did you, um, did you need any help cleaning up?”

“Oh, honey, that’s okay.” Your mother waves you off. “It’s getting late. You two have been traveling all day, we’ll get this and you get some rest.”

Chenle doesn’t even hide the smug look on his face when he intertwines your fingers together. “Thanks, I am exhausted.”

Bullshit. He wants to get you alone as soon as possible.

Next thing you know, you’re leading him upstairs to get him undressed. Although, you didn’t expect for it to lead you to your current predicament.

Chenle’s slender fingers slide into you easily with how wet you are. After teasing you all day, he’s got you dripping down onto the sheets. He moves slowly, staring at you smugly with his other hand covering your mouth. Your eyes roll back, and you fist the sheets as if that’ll stop the overwhelming need.

The walls of your childhood bedroom close in on you like yours close in around Chenle’s fingers, and everything starts to spin. He reaches deep inside, curling to find your spot. With his palm firm on your lips, your moan doesn’t make it past his skin. He chuckles, leaning close to your ear without messing with his pace.

“See, pretty girl? I knew you wanted it. Can’t stay off my cock even with your parents down the hall, huh?”

You mutter incoherently in your best attempt to spur him forward, to get him to fuck you as soon as possible, but it seems his evening of teasing is far from over. He places his thumb on your mouth instead, and you instinctively open up and swirl your tongue around it.

“Little fucking slut,” he tsks. “Can you stay quiet for me while I make you feel good?”

You nod fervently, lifting your hips to match his pace. Desperate to reach your end, you clench the bedspread harder to ground yourself. If you make a sound, you know he won’t continue.

He uses the wetness of your saliva to trail down from your mouth to your collarbone down to your breasts, watching you in a mix of wonder and awe as your nipples harden further beneath his touch. You let out a shaky sigh, but luckily for you, he doesn’t count that against you.

Despite his distraction, his fingers still brush against your spot with every steady thrust, and your mind reels from the pleasure, your orgasm just out of reach. He knows your body like the back of his hand at this point, so he’s well aware of what you need.

As he continues his venture down, the cold air sends chills all over you. He stops at your lower abdomen, rubbing his thumb against your skin.

“Remember,” he whispers. “Keep it down, alright?”

You don’t have time to reassure him before he nudges your clit. Inhaling sharply, you slap your own hand over your mouth.

“No.” He grabs your wrist and pulls your arm away. “Just fucking be good, you brat. Make a noise and you don’t get to cum.”

And he continues his work, rubbing your clit in steady, perfect circles while he pumps his fingers in and out of you. His self-control surprises even you, with the way he hasn’t fucked you yet. The bulge in his boxers strain, and you can practically taste the precum dripping from his tip already. You crave it so fucking badly, you almost forget you’re supposed to be quiet.

When you let out a low curse, the determined look on Chenle’s face turns to stone, and he stops his circles to land a smack on your sensitive bud instead. “Shut the fuck up, slut.”

Your body jerks, tears forming in your eyes, but you nod, so close to the brink it’s like you’re already there. The knot ties in your stomach almost as soon as his thumb is back on your clit, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip hard.

You’re so close, the warning signs of your orgasm becoming far too real to ignore. Lifting your hips, you’re desperate to match his pace, desperate to cum over and over again solely from his touch.

But just before the band of pleasure snaps, he abruptly removes his touch from you, leaving you to clench around nothing. You want to whine, to cry out for his attention, but you don’t dare when he warned you already.

“Get on the floor,” he tells you.

“The floor?” you ask breathlessly.

“Ass in the air, gonna show you how sluts get fucked when they don’t fucking listen.” He grips your thigh. “Hurry up, we don’t have all night.”

You leap up from your bed, eager to please the man who holds the key to your euphoria. The carpet digs uncomfortably into your knees as you arch your back, putting yourself on display for him. Your bed is much too creaky for anything other than missionary, and sometimes, even that’s enough to cause it to squeak if Chenle has anything to say about it.

His hands squeeze your ass, massaging you while he studies you. A quick smack has you shuddering again. His shuffle to take off the last of the clothing covering him is music to your ears, and you wiggle back against him to try to entice him further.

He grabs a pillow and tosses it to you, and you already know what it’s for. You take it gratefully, but you bite down on it in preparation of what’s to come. The thought of getting caught has wetness leaking down your thighs, and as he rubs his hard cock along your entrance to collect it, you’re already shaking. Being denied an orgasm already has every inch of you craving release. His tip brushes your clit, and you push back with a muffled whine.

“What if I just leave you like this?” he asks, dragging his nails along your back.

You shake your head and repeat over and over, “Please. Please.”

“How disappointed would your parents be if they saw you like this, huh? Just down the hall begging to be fucked like a whore…” He slides his tip in, his breath catching at the sensation.

Your chorus of pleas are muffled by the pillow, but you push yourself back, making him slide another inch inside you. Legs wobbling already, you ignore the burn of the carpet against your knees.

Finally, he gives you some reprieve. As slowly as he can manage, he opens you up with his cock. You whimper, eyes watering as you bury your head in the plush fabric below you, already slick with your saliva.

“You sure you’re ready, baby?” he asks breathlessly, nails digging into your hips. “One sound and we stop, got it?”

You can’t manage a response, not with the way he fills you so completely. Whatever he’s gonna give you, you need it.

The choice to move to the floor makes more sense as he gives you one reassuring squeeze to your waist. He thrusts slowly twice, groaning quietly at the feeling.

And then he really starts. His hips slam into yours, the sound of his skin slapping against yours is obvious and impossible to mask. You can barely breathe while he fucks you, your body jolting and the carpet rubbing against your knees. The pillow is drenched with your spit, and you’re biting down so hard your jaw starts to hurt. He pants behind you, his tip reaching your cervix with every rough thrust.

His cock pulses inside you, like he’s ready to burst at any given second. It’s so overwhelmingly good, tears stream down your face. Next thing you know, he’s wrapping his fingers around your neck and pulling you up until your back is against his chest. He squeezes tight enough to make sure no noises will escape you, but your brain clears long enough to see his motive.

The mirror stands in front of you, displaying your body as Chenle slides in and out of you at a steady pace. He leans forward, tightening his grip on your neck.

“See the mess you made?” He licks the shell of your ear. “You’re taking me so fucking easy right now, slut. Don’t think you’ve earned the right to cum.”

Whatever escapes your lips is muffled gibberish.

“I guess I’ll be nice.” His condescending tone sends a chill down your spine as his hand dips between your legs. All it takes is the slight brush of his fingertips to send you reeling over the edge, your body jerking as your orgasm takes you full-force. He doesn’t stop there, though, applying pressure to your clit and rubbing fast. Your vision blurs as a burst of wetness soaks your thighs.

“Holy fuck,” he groans, breaking his rough facade for the briefest moment while he processes what just happened.

He pulls out of you, much to your protest, and turns you on your back. Propping your legs up on his shoulders, he slides back inside with ease, his own eyes fluttering shut. He leans down and takes your mouth with his, the stretch in your legs almost as delicious as he tastes.

“Need to see that pretty face when I cum.” He nips your ear lobe, rocking his hips hard against yours.

Mind hazy from your orgasm, you stare at him in awe as his face contorts with pleasure with every thrust. When his pace becomes erratic, you know he’s close.

He moans lowly in your ear, pushing himself as deep as possible before he spills his load. Panting, he wastes no time in kissing you sweetly, gently as he releases your legs from their uncomfortable position. He rubs your thigh, humming into your mouth.

“You did so well,” he whispers. “You feeling okay? Was it too much?”

You still can’t speak, so with a smile, you shake your head and place a hand flat on his chest.

He pulls out slowly, a shaky breath escaping his lips as he does. A sheen of sweat covers him, the gentle starlight from the windows illuminating him just enough for you to see. He stands, puts his boxers on, and walks over to grab your towel.

You’re oversensitive, and as he spreads your legs again to clean you up, the rough fabric against your clit makes you jolt.

“I love you.” He kisses your forehead in an attempt to distract you from the mess he made. “You’re so perfect, you know that?”

You weakly smack his shoulder. “You did all of this at my parents’ house?”

He grins, scooping you up to help you onto your bed. “Don’t complain. The wet spot on the ground says you liked it.”

[biibini]

Hii!! After mizu graduates college, what type of job do you think she'd have? Would it have to do with sports or maybe something way different? (I absolutely love your writing and headcanons !! 🩷🩷)

modern!mizu post-college life headcanons

tags: post-grad life, engineering mizu, stable work life, a woman in stem, moving in with reader, basketball with mizu, mizu join fencing club, peaceful post-grad life (the dream)

a/n: ngl the thought of post-college life is tripping me out,,, im a junior in college rn and the thought of it just kinda doesnt?? exist?? also ive heard too much info from my friends' rants ab their engineering degrees and switching majors from mechanic to electrical back to mechanical engineering,, theyre fucking nuts

modern!mizu would prob be in the engineering sector of jobs

wooo stem baby (i am a digital marketing major i should not be talking)

bc hello?? money???

also let’s use that mechanical engineering degree to good use

she didn’t leave home for nothing

with her technical skills from eiji

modern!mizu would probably be a CAD engineer

CAD aka computer aided design

technically speaking, it would allow her to work from home or hybrid

and she can easily transfer her mechanical and on-hand knowledge to a digital format

like she’s smart yall

she just got some troubles w procrastination

but dont we all?

(coping so hard)

this job would also allow her free time and flexible hours to do her job

and i feel like modern!mizu opts for a good work-life balance

if she wishes, she can take the day off snd just go out with u or go to the gym

the freedom of choice while staying comfortable at home?

sign her tf up

she can have her tea time, gym time, spending time w u time, and her self care time

the self care in question: enjoying the silence

and realistically, its a well paying job thatll keep her and u afloat while helping eiji financially if need be

modern!mizu hopes her work and smarts can help her provide for others and herself

its ab time she doesnt let herself depend on a man for money

yeah thats a fuck u to u, m*k*o

shes made the mistake once

shes not gonna make it again

just bc postgrad modern!mizu isnt in sports doesnt mean she’ll stop playing

she needs to get her exercise and movement some way some form

basketball with taigen

and always aim for the three-pointers

and is successful most of the time

and then proceed to aim for the half court shots

and fail most times

fencing with eiji whenever shes back home

she’ll def try to teach u

and its fun at first but

she wants to stretch her wings out

modern!mizu would prob join a fencing club

it would be a great for her to fully practice and spar

not just against her old man

or go soft w u

but also go against ppl her age

modern!mizu would move into a place w u

nothing grand but a small apartment where u could refresh and build the place to be ur own

ringo is a good friend

a true best friend she could trust

but it was time to move in w u

and not be wary of ringo hearing u when he comes home

modern!mizu would be more adventurous in hobbies

yeah she has basketball and fencing and her tea collection

but now she has a stable job

no need to worry about grades

and just to live life one step at a time

she would probably try out pottery with u

definitely practice her cooking with ringo's and ur help

all in all, a very patient life

(she deserves it)

[mrsnancywheeler]

the lakes (5) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter / next chapter

midnight rain

2.3k words

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcoholism bc haymitch is there, brief drinking, allusions to death and violence, rebellion planning, allusions of trafficking/sexual trauma, wanting children, mentions of birth control and class divide, terms of endearment, mental illness, manipulation of someone's feelings, self-hatred, mentions of nausea and allusions to puking, reader being utterly enamored by Finnick, unedited, no use of Y/N

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Harsh wind made your body shake and Finnick immediately wrapped his arms around you. How he always felt like a furnace was something you'd accepted you'd never have the answer to and you gratefully relaxed into him.

“Oh look, I just happened to run into you two on the roof, a happy couple just relaxing while they still can." Haymitch's voice pierced the air billowing around you.

“What a coincidence.” Finnick took a step closer to where Haymitch was approaching.

"Gives us a perfect chance to talk about allies though.” Your voice was loud enough that if anyone was listening they would be sure to hear your completely pure intentions with a mentor right before everyone's voices conveniently took the octave and pitch down.

“After this there's not opting out, so I need to know that you're 100% on board. You could be killed if this gets found out." Haymitch fiddled with his flask.

“We're already going to be killed, at least this way there's a chance we can stay together and end all of this." He stood close enough now that your soft voice could only be heard within the earshot. Finnick squeezed your hand softly.

Haymitch nodded, “Beetee is in on it too, so is Wiress, but who knows how much of a help she'll be. Plutarch can give us insight into small things before the Games start, but the main point will be finding away for enough chaos to happen that we can get Katniss out of there.”

“So our job is to get her to trust us, protect her and Peeta so she sticks to the plan that will get her out." Subconsciously Finnick began tapping his fingers on your waist and you rubbed your thumb in circles across his hand to try and soothe whatever it was his mind was running on about.

“Yes and we might need to find a way to force that because you weren't doing a great job on that, darling. I can't blame you though, she can be quite difficult.” Haymitch took a swig from the flask, you could only imagine how burning cold the metal must have been. Then he was pointing at you, "The princess here might actually have more luck since in an ever so contradictory way she's less gaudy.” Finnick scoffed. "She'll just have to get over preconceived notions first which isn't usually easy. Going over tributes though the problem would be you as a package deal, so we might have to find a way to force her to ally with everyone anyways.”

Slowly, Finnick nodded, “We should tell Johanna, she'll definitely be determined even if she doesn't get Katniss’ trust right away."

Haymitch laughed slightly, “Oh I think she's already left quite the impression." You could only imagine what Johanna had done and you smiled, her blunt attitude had immediately drawn you to her and it helped that her strategy was slightly similar to yours as far as the tears went.

“You go, it'll look like you're trying to figure out alliances and not be as suspicious, if they are watching." You kissed Finnick's cheek and reluctantly pushed away from his comforting arms.

"Okay, I'll be back soon. Don't miss me too bad.” He began stepping away so slowly as if he wanted to stay too, which you couldn't imagine why you had to have made his internal heater freeze with every touch.

“Oh I already do." He smirked and you walked over the cement bench, patting on it as Haymitch sat down by you. He held his arm out, offering the flask he was holding. You thought about it for a second, but accepted the offer. Earlier assumptions were correct, the metal was so cold it burned the lips right before the alcohol did. “What is that?" You scrunched your nose, handing it back to him.

Haymitch chuckled, shaking his head. “One of their wild, Capitol creations." He shrugged slightly, the idea of carrying a drink around that you couldn't even name just to numb the pain made your head ache for the victor. “So you tied the knot away from all the pomp and pageantry?"

"They can't have all of me.” Even if they have most of me, went unsaid into the crisp night air. Your body, your tears, what you could give, the raw, violent parts of you forever memorialized for eternity. Now parts of the private ceremony would be exploited, but the moment could never, only the parts you chose to reveal. It was yours.

“Good for you." He took another drink. “They can only take so much from us, they have to know this was bound to happen." You hummed a yes and reached your hand out which he filled with the cold flask, you took another drink that stung your throat before returning it.

“I don't know how people can have kids when the world is like this." You muttered, looking out at the city below. So badly you wanted a family, Finnick would be a great father, but it seemed impossible to fathom when at any second, for years on end they could be ripped away to be publicly executed for entertainment. If they even managed to survive, horrors lay beyond that, you would never wish for your children to live in a world where they went through what you did.

He shook his head, “Desperation, extra hands, not everyone has fancy Capitol provided ways to prevent pregnancy, Princess."

"Yeah.” You were all too familiar with that. Rich men rarely wanted the possibility of a kid running around with a second-class being even if she was a victor and you took every precaution possible as the fear ate you up inside. They could steal away your body, your intimacy, how you felt with yourself, but if you did escape all of this the only kids you would be having would be yours and Finnick. You wouldn't let them own you in that aspect too. “She's lucky she and Peeta came off as such a strong case of star crossed lovers, it's saved her in and out of the arena. Saved both of them.” Blankly staring at the stars, too beautiful to shine on such a cruel world.

“That she is. My so-called defiance lost me everything, everyone and she managed to be so popular that they couldn't do that. It's why we stand a chance, princess.”

You stood up, "I'd wish you a goodnight, but that rarely happens.” You smiled, sadness tainting your eyes.

Haymitch shook the flask, "If it works right, I won't remember a thing.” He said it so sardonically it weighed down your very being. This is what the Capitol did to its child winners, fractured them into being blackout drunk to dodge the nights full of horror.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You sat on the hallway floor, it's carpet itching your skin as you sat there, head on Conway’s shoulder.

“The outfits were so ridiculous, dressing us like prize pigs." He seethed, “Not you I mean though, you didn't look like a pig, the blue looked nice on you-" Conway started rambling to make up for his initial words and you pressed a finger to his soft lips.

"I know what you mean.” You smiled, so softly it looked enamored with his stumbling. It was cute, but not like your Finnick's sureness in all he said. No, not your Finnick, not anymore he was just Finnick, the mentor, the guy from the past. Oh, how you craved his touch, the smell of his salty skin, the sound of his honey like voice. You scolded yourself, now wasn't the time, it couldn't be. You couldn't risk Conway being able to tell if you were thinking about the other man, as if he could somehow read your mind, nevertheless it was too risky.

“Thank you for always understanding me, you've always been so sweet since we were children, it's what made me want to be your friend in the first place and then-" He paused, then your lover is what he was holding back. You knew this, his sister had told you once back when you were with Finnick, how jealousy was eating Conway’s sweet soul alive. “Then made my family love you too."

It was like an arrow in your heart, you weren't sweet, it was more harrowing that he thought so. Your brain encouraged you to persist even though the echoes muttered back how much you should loathe yourself. “No, you're the sweet one. Always covering for me." You shook your head, keeping the smile glued on your face. His hand was suddenly on your chin, trying to guide you in. His fingers were slightly calloused but there were no sparks, like when Finnick even brushed his atoms into the same vicinity as yours. You leaned in slightly, eyes searching him as if you wanted to know if he really wanted this, of course you knew the answer though. His lips pressed themselves to yours, he tasted just as he sounded, like strawberries and you did like strawberries of course, but not as much as a raw honeycomb.

Just as quickly he pulled away, “I'm sorry." Conway’s voice spilled out, “I don't know what I was thinking, I know you still have him and all, I just I don't know." He shook his head, rubbing his face with his hands, combing them through his hair anxiously.

“He's a jerk." He was, but in the best and worst way. “I don't know what I saw in him." You shook your head, sadly staring at the carpet. Urging the tears to present themselves to help cover your lies because you knew exactly what you still saw in him, his humor, his protection, the warmth, and the absolute love and care he exuded with each look, each graze of his fingertips. “Especially when-" You acted like you were getting choked up on your confession, you disgusted yourself.

Conway’s fingertips were tilting your head back up to him once again, “Really?" His eyes were eager, so innocent. You had to stop your resilience from breaking, from halting the whole operation. “Do you really mean that because I have for so long and please be honest?"

You were nauseous. Trying not to start gagging on nothing as you nodded. "Of course I do, I just didn't see what's been right in front of me.” He kissed you again and it was overwhelming your senses. Not in the way Finnick did which made you buzz, in a way that made you want to run. When he finally pulled away you forced yourself to let out a sly smile as you began standing. "I'll see you in the morning, we should sleep before all the training tomorrow, making impressions with the other tributes.”

His smile was shy and his eyes were basically begging you to stay with him another night, to hold you. It would certainly help your plan, but you couldn't. It was already too much and you needed senses knocked back into you before you broke. "Goodnight, sleep well." Conway whispered, slowly letting his fingers part from yours as he turned down the hallway. You'd been just outside of your room so you walked to it and opened it right before closing it to make it sound like you'd gone in before making a beeline in the opposite direction for Finnick's. Vainly trying to hold back the dry heaving.

Ever so softly your fists knocked on the door and almost instantly it was open, like he was waiting, like he knew you would be coming. Before another second could pass you'd thrown yourself into the protection of his arms and were weeping.

“I'm a terrible person." You choked out as he carefully shut the door with his foot, wrapping his arms around you even tighter like a blanket.

“No you're not an angel, it's survival of the fittest." He kissed the top of your forehead burying himself in it.

"Oh God, I'm gonna be sick.” He instantly led you to the bathroom where you were in fact. He didn't leave you though, he pulled out some medicine to soothe your stomach and head. Handing you a glass of water as he soothingly had his hand on the top of your head, stroking your hair. Once you've finished he was brushing your teeth for you.

It should be pathetic to have someone doing that for you, but not when it was him just trying to keep you secure. “Gotta open wider, angel." He was diligent and precise before helping pull you up from the edge of the tub to the sink. “Okay now spit. Let's get you into bed, sweet girl."

“Thank you, I'm sorry." You muttered out, voice raspy.

“Don't ever be." His warm hands tilted your chin up in a way that melted you into his touch like sugar in tea. “Look at me. You're doing what it takes to survive, which you deserve to do, I'm just doing what you deserve." Your Finnick could make you fall into tears every time, healing the patches of the broken heart you had from the way you were using Conway. “Let's get you to bed." He began to walk out of the bathroom and you softly put your hand on the one trailing away.

"Finnick.” Your voice was tender but the air was so stagnant it felt booming to your ears. He turned to look at you, worry evident. "Can I stay? Please?” Finnick smiled so sympathetically it made your head feel better, like it would float away instead.

"Of course, my love, you can always stay with me, I'll always stay with you.” As you crawled into the sheets that he'd of course emanated his soothing heat onto you knew it was true. Just as you knew you'd always stay with him.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so much for reading! literally y'all's comments make my heart so happy and my passion for continuing to write this skyrockets, you are all so incredibly kind and supportive 💕 as always if you enjoyed feedback, likes, reblogs, comments are all so appreciated and my asks are open bc I think about this series all the time. I love you guys and thank you again sm 💋

taglist: @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @darlingsoulbeautfulthoughts @thatonegayloser616 @kybermp3 @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @ravensinthedaylight @innercreationflower @uhnanix @aesthetic0cherryblossom @yourdailymemedelivery

[melobin]

had eunseok thoughts i wanted to share !!!!!

best friend eunseok who finds out your virgin... and he's kinda surprised about it bc he didn't expect you to be. you speak about alot of things but sex never comes up but he assumed you weren't. he takes a moment to decide how to handle the discovery but opts for being surprised but also flattering. "really? you a virgin? i'm surprised no ones tried their luck with someone so pretty" and he notices you getting a little flustered from his words. you just kinda murmur out that you've had the opportunity but you've been too nervous but you don't wanna stay like that forever and he asks what you'd like to do about it, wondering where the convo is going... asking best friend eunseok, who happens to have a giant corruption kink, to take your virginity because you know he'd be gentle and take his time with you and he's more than happy to help you!! but he said there's one issue and when you ask what it is he's very open in telling you the size of his cock is a little bigger than most men's and it might scare you off: ((but you ask if you can see it and eunseok well he's already hard as fuck over the whole thing so he brings your hand to his sweatpants so you can grab it over them and he notices you gaps at how big he feels and when he lets it out your eyes go wide at how big he is but he holds your cheek in his hand and assures you he'll be gentle with you and let you take your time in taking all of him !!! you don't even have to do it in one night,, you can do it over a period of days or weeks if you're more comfortable with it

[forusomimiya]

hi love, so there is this *thirst* came to my mind and had to share with you obv if you are uncomfy with that you can just delete this ask

But osamu… osamu with beefy arms that can put reader on top of the counter of their house… he won’t do that in onigiri miya because it is more ‘violation of regulations’ etc. and he can just grind up to her.. yk bc he can reach there,, and he would spill filthy thoughts in her ear, maybe nibble on her neck, leave her hot and needy, then he’d just pretend he didn’t do it at all,, and continue what he was doing, just to see her blown irises, needy breaths and maybe even some begging too

Bc for sure osamu does love when reader begs for his attention

"Samu!" His beefy arms carry you in a jiffy to the kitchen counter, where he sits you down and spreads, without a hint of kindness, your legs to get between them, leaning over the edge of the marble, waiting for an explanation for something that even you can't explain. "What's wrong?" his eyes dive to your underwear and back to you.

Oh, right. You forgot you were home alone and opted to use your new outfit for the first time. You wanted it to be a surprise for Osamu but well, since he's already ruined it, what less than enjoy what may be to come.

"I like your new buy" his eyes roam over your skin, lingering on the blush beginning to grow on your cheeks, before studying your lips, separating to let the air escape. "I thought you'd wear it for a special occasion."

“Yeaah, umm…” not a stupid word you can spit out. So confident that you can take control of the situation, that when the man's body in front of you makes you shiver, you can only babble.

"Umm? Are you getting jumpy, kitty?" his calloused fingers caress your cheek, and as time passes, your heart beats faster. It makes no sense sticking to the wall to get space between both, ‘cause Osamu will drag you to the edge and have no shame in rubbing your crotch against yours. "You don't have to, babe. I'm just surprised you didn't welcome me properly."

You can't help but nibble on your lip as he impulses you to tilt his head to access your neck, staying there, just inches from your skin, just enough to make it bristle as he speaks into your ear.

"Don’t know whether to teach you a lesson or let you to ruin me" you gulp and think about how to reduce your heartbeat as your eyes point to his arms, focusing on his biceps, and how a thread of veins grows from his forearm and down to the back of his hand, which you don't know when or how it has reached your thigh. "I really miss being down here so much, between these soft thighs..." a small nibble on your neck startles you, giving Osamu what he wanted to hear: a howl and his name uttered in a whimper. He smiles as he watches you grind towards him indiscreetly. "You want me? Is that it?" you nod ashamed.

Both hands have flown to your waist to pull you closer to him, handling you so easily under his grip that you can't help but let yourself go, something he's no longer even surprised by, seeing how easily you melt at his dirty words sung in your ear. He lets you grind a little more next to him before put a delicate kiss on your shoulder and pulling away from you to go back to what he was doing, with a prominent erection under his pants. You open your eyes realising that your body is missing two large hands on your waist, a six foot tall muscular built man between your legs with his warm breath giving you goosebumps and leaving you on the verge of reach an orgasm without being touched.

"Wanna eat something?" he asks looking at you as if nothing has happened, as if you weren't still on the counter, gasping, burning with your eyes his fucking body and that fucking erection that makes you drool inside. Hundred of questions roam through your head, but you only want one answered.

"Are you gonna fuck me?" Osamu sets the rice packet aside and turns to you, arms crossed, watching as you still look for a little friction on the counter.

"You really want it?" you nod and, by the size of his pupils, you know that he would also do his best to fuck you right there, without worrying about rules because that's not Onigiri Miya and he doesn't have to worry about to not violating the rules of the shop for putting you against the table and fucking you hard for a while. "Well.. keep begging and maybe I'll give you what you want"

[joshusten]

got my head in a daze (guy/honey, redacted audios)

Guy takes care of a drunk and obliviously sentimental Honey.

(fluff, humor, taking care of drunk character)

2.5k+ words [ao3 link here!] [masterlist]

[CW and notes: implied alcohol consumption, honey kinda gets a lil vulnerable, drunken shenanigans, swearing, geordi and cutie briefly appear at the beginning bc i miss them lol, whipped and flustered Honey, whipped and flustered Guy, they love each other so much i’m shaking, possibly OOC**, GRAMMATICAL ERRORS not rlly proofread]

—

"Thank you for calling Max's Rustic Pizza, my name is Guy, how can I– OH! Fuck! Hi! Sorry, forgot to turn off my 'work' brain–"

"Wait, what? Are they okay? Oh, okay, okay. How long will you be here?"

"Oh, cool, cool, okay. I'll meet you outside. Thanks a lot, Geordi. Stay safe."

The call ends and Guy scrambles around the apartment for a change of clothes. He's still wearing his work uniform. The stench (he doesn't really smell that bad, does he?) of sweat, basil, and, well, pizza feels embedded into them. 

Unfortunately, no matter how dashing he looks in the black polo shirt (according to what the very lovely old lady that lives across them said), Guy remembers Honey always complaining about the smell. This probably means they won’t appreciate being greeted by it once they arrive with their friend.

He opts for a simple shirt that’s fresh from the laundry and grabs a soft blanket for Honey. The nights have been chilly lately and with his burning hatred for being sick, he definitely doesn’t want his partner to experience that either, especially in their state.

The sound of tires on asphalt snaps Guy out of his fussing and he realizes he’s near the entrance of their building. He opens the door to greet the Corolla pulling up near the sidewalk. Its side windows rolled down to reveal Geordi at the wheel looking back at Cutie, who was comforting Honey in the passenger seat.

A very drunk Honey, that is.

“Psst. We’re here.” Cutie whispered gently as not to startle the very much intoxicated person currently resting on their lap. Honey opens their eyes and squints at their surroundings, letting out what Guy would probably describe as the cutest sound in existence (it really was just a whine but sue him for gushing on his partner over the simplest of things.)

“Really…?”

“Yes, really. C'mon, your escort's there," The telepath says, nudging them to look at the man currently standing outside the car wearing an oversized Star Trek shirt with a blanket slung over his shoulder.

"Es…what?" 

It was evident that the trio were trying, and failing, to suppress their amusement at how… out of it their usually uptight friend is. It's adorable, even. 

Guy lowers himself to get Honey to sit up and Cutie immediately helps him. Then, slowly but surely, the pair gently shifts them out of the car to stand up on the sidewalk. 

"Okay, there you go, hon," Guy finally balances his swaying partner (or at least, how balanced one can be while inebriated). "Thanks a lot. Can you guys go home safely?"

"Yeah, no need to worry about us! Cutie's just a lil tipsy but Honey's the only one actually affected by how much of a lightweight they are," Geordi answers, wiping some fog that formed on his glasses. Guy glosses over the very endearing fact that their ever-so-grumpy partner is a lightweight to realize how cold it is outside. The blanket!

He wastes no time wrapping the soft fabric around Honey and they instantly snuggled up to it. “Woah…thanks…S’cold a while ago…” They happily said, their words slowly coming out like molasses. 

Guy chuckles, averting his gaze from the peaceful smiling face of their partner to Cutie’s shit-eating grin. “Thanks again. I’m glad they didn’t get themself into trouble.”

"No prob, Guy, really. Though I am not gonna miss how much they were raving about their wonderful boyfriend throughout the car ride. No matter how cute it was, that was still 30 minutes I can’t take back. I don't need to be a mind reader to know they can’t wait to see you.”

Geordi lets out a few snickers that make Guy wonder if there was an inside joke he wasn’t getting. He dismisses the thought, Never mind that! His Honey was being all mushy! About him!  That leaves him blushing, cheeks hot with a small smile growing and Honey quietly observes the man beside them. They amusingly think their strange escort looks enchanting when flustered.

“O-okay, then! Welp, get back home safe!” Guy waves a hand, the other around Honey’s waist tightened to keep them on their very unstable feet. “I’ve got my very drunk paramour that’s in dire need of some tender loving care to attend to." 

The couple waves them goodbye as the side windows close (with a scandalized “Geordi!” accompanied by a playful slap coming from Cutie despite the aforementioned man keeping his mouth shut though, shortly right after, he bursts into a fit of giggles.) Guy really doesn’t get how they both seem to communicate without sharing any words between them but he shrugs it off for now. He has more pressing matters to deal with.

“C’mon, Honey! Time to get you in our humble abode!" Guy begins to guide their partner to the entrance and opts for the nearby elevator instead of the stairs. He definitely doesn't want to risk any possible accidents from that.

They were both quiet for the whole three stories up. Guy worries about how exhausted Honey must've felt with how they were leaning on his shoulder, eyes closed as they breathed softly, almost snoring. Cute. 

The journey to their unit was surprisingly quick. Guy takes out his keys after gently shaking the bundled-up figure beside him. "Hey,” he whispered, “We're here, sleepyhead."

The door opens and so do Honey’s eyes, blinking out any weariness that weighed on them. They stride over to the couch with the short-lived confidence of a drunkard, leaving the man holding them surprised. They don't remember walking being so difficult. Why was the ground so…move-y all of a sudden? 

Guy's eyes widen as he realizes Honey is out of his grasp. They managed to take a few steps before he could see their movements getting sluggish again. "Woah, hey, hey! Slow down, let me help." He takes hold of their arms to balance them as he gently set their partner on the couch. 

“There ya go,” Guy smiles, kneeling down on his knees to help them out of their footwear that has probably grown uncomfortable. However, the moment he starts to take off their shoe, Honey's foot jerks back. They have their usual annoyed expression but something seems off about how they look at him.

“Hey, back off! I have a… boyfriend, y’know?”

. . .

What.  

"What?"

"Look, dude, thanks for… bringing me up here but I'm gonna…wait for my boyfriend, okay?"

Holy shit, they're fucking wasted.

"Honey, it's me," Guy insists. No doubt the real, very much existing live audience he always monologues for would find this situation hilarious if he wasn't desperately trying to take care of his partner without them freaking out.

"Ha-ha, okay, man, you’re really cute and shit but I want my boyfriend here, not some random fucking guy!”

Despite literally rejecting him in their drunken stupor, his grumpy darling of a partner still makes way for his heart to flutter. How the hell is he going to handle this when some simple flattery from them leaves his mind reeling? “But I’m not some guy! I am Guy!” He sees that the statement confuses Honey’s already muddled mind some more. At moments like these, Guy wonders what in the ever-loving fuck his parents were on when they decided to name their child like that. 

The man backtracks, "Look, your…boyfriend is a lil busy right now. He’ll be back soon but he told me to take care of you while he’s gone, would that be okay?”

Honey squints their eyes, and their foot slowly sets itself back on the floor. “Hm. fine…but don’t pull any moves on me, got it?” They pointed a threatening finger at him. “I like my boyfriend a whole lot and I don’t want him coming home to some bullshit, you hear me?” 

Their strange escort smiles wide and Honey is suddenly overtaken by the instinct to cup his round cheeks, as if it was second nature. Honey shakes their head. There’s something about this man, they just don’t know what, but he makes them feel…weird.

“You got it, boss!” Guy beams with a mock salute before untying the laces of their shoe. After a few moments of comfortable silence, he decided to speak up. “Y’know, that must be one lucky boyfriend. You seem to be fond of him.” He means it. He really is lucky to have them in his life.

Honey looks away with furrowed brows, mumbling softly, “I’m the lucky one…”

“Hm? What do you mean?” Guy tilts his head to the side. Well, that got him curious.

“He’s… he’s really nice to me, even when I’m not.” The urge for Guy to rebut was strong but he decided to shut the fuck up for once to let them continue. “He acts goofy as hell most of the time, too. Like some fucking gremlin or something…”

Their eyes meet and his breath hitches. They’re beautiful.

“And he makes me feel really, really good. He asks for kisses all the time and he cooks me breakfast and his voice sounds so nice in my ear even when he talks a lot a-and he makes my stupid heart feel stupid warm when he looks at me with those pretty eyes like–” They pause to take a breath. 

“Like I’m actually enjoyable to be around.” Honey’s flustered. The heat practically radiates off of them as they lock their gaze on the floor. “He's stupid handsome too, it’s not fair! S’like he got it all!” 

They pushed a finger up to the man’s lips in an attempt to shush him (They also ignore how pleasantly soft it feels against their skin), "But don't tell him I said that!" 

Guy merely chuckles to mask the reality of how fast his heart is beating right now. Fuck, if he keeps getting these sweet compliments from a blushing Honey in such generous amounts, he might actually pass out. Definitely not a bad way to go. He awkwardly cleared his throat, noticing that they were expecting a reply from him, “I-I won’t. I promise.” They seem satisfied by that, crossing their arms as they avoid his eye contact again. Guy racks up his mind on what to do next, his thoughts currently in disarray no thanks to the overwhelming affection he’s receiving. “How ‘bout you go wash up and change your clothes so we can get you to bed, hm?”

Honey nods, and allows the man to guide them to the bedroom (not without a sharp “No funny ideas!” from them and a giggly but reassuring “Of course, of course!” from the man). Guy makes sure to leave the bathroom door open just in case something happens as Honey sloppily brushes their teeth while he prepares some sleepwear for them. 

Once they were done, Guy stepped out of the room to give his partner some privacy and brings back a glass of water with some painkillers to leave by their bedside table for tomorrow. He waits outside the bedroom door, knocking one, two, three times, “Can I come in?”

After hearing the soft “Sure” from inside, the door creaks open to reveal their Honey, clad in pajamas, lying in bed. He sets the pills down and inches the glass toward their lips.

“Hey, don’t sleep yet. You gotta get hydrated first.”

Guy notices they were a bit more compliant, probably too tired to try intimidating him with…their boyfriend. After a few sips, Honey yawns, their head gently landing on the fluffy pillows surrounding their drowsy state. The fatigue was really catching up on them, allowing slumber to take over easily. 

In their dreams, they swear they feel a warmth caress their skin and a soft, fleeting pressure on their forehead.

“I love you.”

–

The first thing Honey hears through the headache is the sizzle of the omelet that Guy is currently giving out a performance to in his rendition of a song he’s playing on his phone.

The man turns off the stove, expertly sliding the dish on a plate placed nearby while still shaking his hips to the music. He continues his singing, oblivious to the fact that their partner is currently observing them with a grin despite the pounding in their head.

“He’s a semi-aquatic egg-layin’ mammal of– AH!” Guy almost drops the plate the moment he notices someone by the hallway. “Honey!” 

They wince at the sudden greeting and Guy sheepishly smiles at them as an apology. “You wanna eat? I cooked some eggs.”

“That would be nice, thanks. Sorry for interrupting your…Disney Channel concert.”

Guy dramatically gasps, setting down another plate in front of where Honey sat at the table. “That was not just some Disney Channel concert! It’s my Phineas and Ferb playlist! That was a serenade to Aphrodite, an angel’s choir! That show’s soundtrack contained the very secret chord that David played! Receiving the highest praise from the greatest minds of our time, including, but not limited to, yours truly! I can’t believe you would slander the artistry of–mmph!” 

He smiles in the kiss and he tastes the fresh mint in their mouth. They brushed their teeth again before coming here. Had they planned to kiss him all along? They pull away, dragging a needy whine from his lips. Fuck, the day hasn’t started yet and they’ve already got his heart pumping. A good morning indeed.

“Okay, okay, I get it, you menace!” Honey lets out a giggle that has Guy taking back everything he said. His taste in music is definitely their laugh. “It’s too fucking early for you to be monologuing like this.”

They smile again and he knows it’s a joke, especially after everything that they’ve confessed to under the influence a few hours ago. He smirks mischievously, “Oh? That’s not what you said last night~”

Honey raises a brow, their fork with a piece of the beaten egg stopping midway towards their mouth. “What, did I do something stupid?”

The man excitedly scoots his chair near them, “Hm, what was that about my voice sounding so nice in your ear?” Honey squints their eyes in confusion before they widen, the foggy memories from last night coming back to them. Heat rapidly rises to their horrified face, much to their smug boyfriend’s delight.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Or–how did you put it–me being stupid handsome?”

“Guy, please–”

“Oh! Or what about making your heart feel stupid warm?”

At this point, Honey hid their face in Guy’s neck, playfully slapping the arms wrapped around their waist.

“You’re an asshole.” Their words held no heat and were less mean considering they came out muffled from their significant other’s shoulder. The latter simply laughed.

“To be fair,” Guy whispered in their ear, “You make my stupid heart feel stupid warm too.”

Honey sits back up, more flustered than ever and Guy relishes the view. His lover muttered a quick “Fucking dumbass.” before kissing him again, considerably more tender than the last.

-

-

- “Gitchee, gitchee goo means that I love y– OW! Ow, ow, ow! Okay, pausing the playlist, going back to the romantic mood!”

---

i rlly like this fic!! idk the idea of a flustered tsundere honey was just so delicious AND GUY GETTING EQUALLY FLUSTERED BC EUEUEUFHSDKFHJ HIS BABYHONEYDARLING IS BEING SO MUSHYYY LMAO again tho, feel free to leave me feedback!! whether it's a grammatical error or how true/consistent i am to the characters, it will always be appreciated!! have a nice day/noon/night!! >:))