#and if i did it's a hell of a walk anyway

[reignpage]

His Loss, Their Gain

Synopsis: in which you get stood up and the jjk men are more than ready to step up for you (pre-relationship) Warnings: a little cursing, vaguely sexual language or allusions, a little angsty, but mostly fluff, crack and comfort, one-sided pining perchance, not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna Word Count: 3.6k

Gojo

He heard all about your date from Shoko when he took a student to her dark, miserable corner to get all fixed up that morning. To say he was peeved was a massive understatement. In fact, the man had been muttering ‘ooh y/n’s got a date with some non-sorcerer ooh good for her’ under his breath pretty much the entire day. 

The students are both amused and irritated by his constant yammering. 

“I go on loads of date!” He grumbled, flicking a leaf as he leans against a tree, watching the kids spar. “What’s the big deal?”

At lunch, he strolled into the teacher’s lounge and whistled some tune. As always, you were sat by the window enjoying a bento box that made his mouth water — man, what would it be like to enjoy a meal made by you.

Casually, he mused, “I heard through the grapevine, you’ve got a hot date tonight.”

You threw him an unimpressed glower. 

“Who the hell told you about that?”

Satoru shrugged. “Oh, y’know, just the grapevine. So, what’s he like?”

Nonchalant as he may have seemed, he had enough self-awareness to know that he was pretty bothered by how spruced up you’ve gotten for this guy, whoever he is. God, did you have to make your hair all pretty like that? And oh hell, is that a new perfume? 

You didn’t entertain his game, choosing to ignore his thinly veiled attempt to pry, and chose simply to poke his side, tickling him away from the path to the exit he was blocking. The white-haired man rolled his eyes, desperate to quell the smile twitching at the corner of his lips. 

That one interaction, that fleeting touch he never blocked out and that momentary glimpse at your shy smile, smothered the complaints that had been festering inside since he visited Shoko. You looked anxious, embarrassed, but more than anything, excited. Happy.

He was quiet the rest of the day. 

The students didn’t know what to make of his sudden shift in mood; he was contemplative, focused and serious. None of them complained, after all they were finally learning a thing or two but it was an odd sight, him without a smile on his face.

When the sun was lowering, and the students had all headed home, Satoru leisurely exited the school feeling, for reasons he wasn’t ready to acknowledge, more tired than usual. But then he saw you, standing at the gates staring at your phone. Checking his own, he frowned.

You were supposed to be long gone by now. 

When he appeared right beside you, you weren’t the least bit taken aback by his sudden voice. 

“Ugly loser not coming?”

Muttering, you weakly replied, “You’ve never met him. How can you possibly know he’s ugly?”

Satoru threw back a retort that you didn’t respond to. He sighed. With his hands tucked into this pockets, he nudged you. “Alright, stop pouting, let’s go get dinner. I’m starving. God, being a teacher really takes its toll on the body.”

“You barely do anything.” 

Despite yourself, you smiled. 

So did he. 

“Yeah, well, I’m still hungry anyways. So, let’s get going. Your treat.”

And despite his incredibly annoying, pretentious tone, you found yourself walking away from the school, the dwindling warmth of the sun setting behind you, with Satoru. He tried to hide his self-satisfied grin and the slight pep in his steps, and especially the peak under his blindfold at the two shadows you cast. 

For as long as other men sucked, he knew he still had a chance.

Geto

“Got plans?” 

You gave him a side glance, pulling your panties back up your legs. That arrangement of yours was complicated, to say the least. An on and off thing, neither of you could really keep your hands off each other, and all while staying as friends. Of course, the being friends part was easy — he’s fun and you’re sweet. But the staying as friends, and just as friends, was oh so difficult. 

Clearing your throat, you took the bra he was dangling from his finger with a brow raised. And you said, “Yeah. Kinda. Some guy asked me out so we’re gonna get some dinner or something.”

“Sounds exhilarating,” he mused. 

He was always like that — judgemental, mocking, and irresistible. Desperate to not be that weak, pathetic girl, you’d force yourself to move on, to see what else was out there because that thing you had with him?

It was unsustainable. 

With a sigh, you shrugged on your shirt. “Suguru, don’t.”

He chuckled and raised his arms up in surrender. And then you turned to leave but you didn’t get every far, how could you when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to his chest? You were breathless when he brushed your hair back, skimming his lips down the curve of your neck to plant a soft, barely there kiss on your shoulder. 

“Have fun.”

And then you were off. 

Leaving a long-haired man alone and frowning. Truthfully, he was itching to keep you there, to distract you with some more pleasure or a movie, but he knew that wasn’t fair. The unspoken part about the type of arrangement you two was that no one could get jealous or lay some moronic wolfy-claim on the other. 

He focused his attention instead on showering, washing away the remnants of you and even tried to wash away the idea of someone else taking you away. If this date of yours worked out, then that would effectively end your special relationship, devolving back to just ‘friends’. 

How pathetic.

No, that wasn’t the most pathetic thing about the entire ordeal. What was truly more pathetic was that he was sat, in his car, outside your place, waiting for that light in your bedroom to go and for you to leave. 

You didn’t. 

Geto groaned and threw his head back. Relieved as he was that you weren’t with some other prick, he couldn’t shake off that discomfort in his chest at the thought of you being disappointed, embarrassed or anywhere close to sad. He sent a quick text to you. Come out, he said. 

Your reply was, I’m not in the mood for sex.

Good. Neither am I.

'...' danced on the screen for a solid minute or two and he thought you were coming up with colourful ways of telling him to disappear, like 'walk off a cliff' or the classic 'fuck off', but you didn’t. Instead, he got a thumbs up and he sighed. 

Guess neither of you were willing to give up the game after all. 

Choso

He heard it from his brother. 

Who heard it from Megumi and he in turn heard it from Nobara. And the details might have differed somewhat as the information got passed along, like the time and place and with whom, but one thing remained consistent. 

You have a date. 

And man, was Choso distraught. At first, he was speechless, eyes blinking and jaw hanging. Then, he was making odd noises like steam was coming out of his ears. No one knew what to do, no one had ever taught them what the procedure was when a half-curse, half-man suffered from a nervous breakdown.

Eventually, he regained enough life to splutter, “WHAT?”

He fainted.

When he awoke, laid down on a bench, he was very surprised to find you looming over him. You looked beautiful. Positively stunning, and he was certainly stunned. He had a terrible dream, one that left him trembling, but your laughter stilled his shaking hands. 

“Choso, did you actually pass out? That’s so crazy.” 

The man couldn’t even blush. He was just so happy you were there, with him, talking and laughing, and he could pretend nothing was wrong in the world. Because, if you could smile at him with so much warmth and light and familiarity, there didn’t seem a plausible way for things to be wrong.

Pushing himself upright, he said, sheepishly, “Yeah, I think so. Um, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, y’know, just stopping by to check up on you –”

“That’s really nice of—”

“Before I head off to meet my date!”

"...what.”

You blinked at him. “I have a date. Surprised you didn’t know since the kids have been bothering me about it all day. Well, anyways, happy to see you figuratively back on your feet. Gotta get going now. Bye!”

And then you were gone, completely oblivious to the twitching of Choso’s eye and the way his pigtails quite literally deflated. 

There was a pout on his face the rest of the day. 

Only on his way back home did that pout disappear because, there, at the end of the street, was you. Only you could look that pretty when miserable. Oh, he was so happy to see you! 

Sure, you looked upset, and you were kicking a streetlamp, but he wasn’t the least bit discouraged from skipping over to you, pigtails swinging and a big, wide grin on his face. He shouted your name. You looked up, still mad, but brows relaxing ever so slightly. 

“Oh, hey, Cho. What’s up?”

“Nothing! Just heading home. What about you?”

You shrugged. “Well, I was supposed to be on a date, but he never showed up. Didn’t even text me so I guess I’m gonna head home too.”

“Oh, no. That’s terrible.”

The amused look on your face clearly conveyed your disbelief. Choso was many things, a great man, loving brother, fun friend. But a convincing liar? He was not. 

“Well,” he began, scratching the back of his neck, “do you wanna just be with me? I mean! Do you want to spend some time with me? Hang out?”

You shrugged again, this time with a smile. And the both of you began walking side by side with no particular destination. He didn’t talk much, just wandered the streets with you. The sun, or at least what remained of it, was warm and the roads were empty. Neither of you could think of a better thing to do than just exist. 

Together.

Toji

“Whatd’ya just say?”

He was staring at his kid, the little boy peering back at him with a look of pure innocence. The father, holding a spoon up to his lips, was pissed the hell off. Immediately, he was calling you, still feeding the baby. Your nonchalant voice on the phone made him even more irritated. 

“Ya going on a date? Whatd’ya mean ‘none of y’r business? ‘Course it’s my business. Mother of my son prancing around with some other guy ain’t a good look on me, is it? Oh, yeah yeah, the divorce didn’t look good on you either, whatever. So? Is it true? Oh, hell. Can I use my veto? Whatd’ya mean I don't get a veto? What kinda bullshit is that?”

The little boy blabbered, rubbing salt in the man’s wound, as he reminded him his diaper needed changing, immediately, and he had blueberry compote all over his face and clothes. How the hell did the kid manage to get food on the window?

You didn't sound impressed at all, but that was always how you talked to him. And the conversation wasn't going anywhere, much to Toji's frustration. Why did he have to find out from a toddler?

Call ending soon after that, the two boys decided to make the most of their day together. 

Sat on his lap, they watched a football game on the TV. Of course, his son wasn’t really paying attention, he was far more interested in the rattling toy in his hand, and in all honesty, neither was Toji. He just kept thinking about the fact that you should be there, with them, cuddled up to his side. Not with some fucking loser. You should be home, comfortable, looking pretty for him and with a ring still on your finger, the way his ring remained on his. 

But who was he to say shit?

It was his damn fault to begin with that you were living apart. If only he had cut back on the bad habits and the dangerous jobs. Regret was a damned thing, like a coin dropped in a well and never hearing it drop. 

And then searching for another coin so you could wish to get back the fucking coin you should have never dropped to begin with ‘cause you weren’t a fucking pussy. 

Ah fuck it. 

“Wanna go piss off y’r mum?”

The kid grinned. 

And so there the two were, showing up at the door, both with shit-eating grins contrasting your stern glower. You were in a dress, a very sexy dress and Toji wasn’t shy about letting his eyes wander, and you weren’t shy about the finger you showed him. 

“Are you kidding, Fushiguro?”

“Kid couldn’t stop asking for ya, so just wanted to let him get a peek before you go off on y’r fancy date,” he replied. 

You let them in and with embarrassment lacing your words, you admitted, “Well, date’s cancelled. So, good timing.”

Grin widening, he assured you, “Ah the bastard doesn’t know what he missed out on.”

And soon, you two fell into old routines. You cooked dinner whilst Toji set the table, kid on his back. The conversation shifted from anything and everything and nothing. And after, he cleaned up as you put the baby to sleep. He followed soon after, looping an arm over your shoulder.

“We did good with him, didn’t we?”

When life was that easy, that simple, and good, one was left wondering where did it all go wrong? When did you, or him, or both start wanting more? Or was it the case that things just didn’t work out? Was there still a chance? Should there be? And for whose sake?

Guess none of that mattered. Whether that piece of paper was still there or not, the core of your relationship would never change. Not really.

“Yeah. We did.”

Nanami

There you were, a vision in your suit, sitting at your desk, the way you did every day. He loved his seat; he had the best view of the entire office. Kento especially loved that, for you to get to the water cooler, you had to walk past him, and every single time you did, you’d always stop by, asking how his day was going and whether he’d like his water bottle filling up. 

Of course, he declined your very kind offer, but only so he could walk to the water cooler with you, and for the five minutes you two had, you’d chat about all sorts of things – he was more of a listener than a talker, but you never seemed to mind. 

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that you were the one good thing about this office, and he certainly looked forward to every little interaction with you. 

Until one such interaction became his worst nightmare: you had a date. Oh, and how casually you brought that up to him, as if the fluttery atmosphere between you was a figment of his imagination and the way you gushed about this other man certainly left no doubt in his mind. 

You did not like him the way he liked you. 

That was all he could think about the rest of the day. Even as he wrote up a progress report, attended a client meeting, ate his lunch with the interns he was in charge of, and even when he went to the bathroom to splash cold water on, what he was only then realising to be, a very pale face. Kento must be coming down with something. 

For the first time ever, when you got up from your desk and strolled over to his, heels clacking, and asked if he’d like his bottle filling up, he declined. It came out faster than he could process and the shock evident in both of your faces was like a crack in his glasses. 

Oh, dear. 

You were silent until the end of the day. He didn’t walk out with you, didn’t even get to say goodbye and ‘see you tomorrow’, and he had never been more miserable in his entire life. 

With a heavy sigh, he walked out of the office an hour or so later than everyone else and pulled on his tie. A nice warm bath was all he could think about, at least until he spotted you, waiting on the side of the road. You were restless, shuffling on your feet and checking your watch every couple seconds. Being of above average intelligence might not have meant he was a genius but it sure did mean he was smart enough to figure out what had happened. 

That bastard. 

“Would you like to have a drink or two with me? There are some things I’d like to talk to you about,” he said. Perhaps he shouldn’t have walked up so quietly but it was a habit of his. In that moment, as his pulse was beginning to speed up, all he could think about was how creepy he sounded – he certainly wouldn’t blame you if you ran to HR. 

“What things?” You asked. 

He smiled, a desperately casual smile to show he was sorry for his cold display. “Well, for one, I’d like to make my case clear; I’d never leave you waiting for me on a date.”

And he never did.

Sukuna

“Repeat that for me. Slow.”

You bit your lip, not at all surprised by his reaction. The King of Curses wasn’t known for his calm disposition, in fact, he was known for exactly the opposite. Still, he was nice to you, an ordinary servant in his grand estate doing this and that. One could not put a finger to exactly when this...friendship, should we say... developed but it was one you so terribly cherished. 

Working at the estate of a mass murdering, sadistic monster – your family’s words, not yours – meant you didn’t maintain many friendships. So, to have one with him felt like standing in the eye of the storm, even if that storm was always so fickle and the eye kept moving. 

“I’m. Going. On. A. Date,” you recited, enunciating every syllable loud and clear. When he gave an instruction, you’d found it was always best to be quite literal, lest he tired of your mortal limitations. 

“No.”

Blink. 

Blink. 

Adjusting your robes, you clarified, “No? Sorry, my Lord, but whatever do you mean by ‘no?’”

The tall, hulking man, or rather curse, walked on, his long legs taking him so far within seconds you had to run to catch up. He loved doing that. He thought it funny, you supposed. “Just that. No.”

“But, my Lord, I don’t think you can really interfere with my personal life.”

He stopped. 

You bumped into his back, the smell of sweet death and gentle fire filling your senses. And when he turned, looking down at you with all those eyes, one of his hands gripped your jaw, pulling you upwards and much closer to his face than ever before. 

“Can’t I?”

Then he was gone. 

You didn’t see him the rest of the day. Neither did any of the servants. Perhaps he was mad at you, after all you had no business, and no authority at that, to tell him what he could or couldn’t do. You got complacent, too confident and cocky. You overestimated the depth of your friendship and the limits of his patience. It would be a surprise to no one if you were found dead before dusk. 

There were no texts from your date. Not a single one. Not even after you texted to ask if you were still on for night. And when every call when to voicemail, you were so sure you had been ghosted before you could even meet the guy. Sukuna was right. 

Men were no good.

Living at the estate had its perks: no commute, easy access to your necessities lest you forgot something essential, and the walk over to your quarters was magnificent. The well-kept garden was beautiful and that was really as far as your feeble mind could go in terms of putting into words the glorious sight you saw every morning and night. 

But that evening had been different. 

Your master was there, in his robes, bottom set of arms tucked into the sleeves whilst the top set were crossed. He looked just as regal as he always did, and the sight made your heart clench. One secret you’d take the grave would be that the friendship you so sincerely cherished was one you also sincerely resented; to be a teased with all that you could have but would never get was a torturous pain you wouldn't wish on your worst enemies.

“My Lord, may I help you?”

He beckoned you over. When his hand reached for your head, you were sure it was to slice it clean off, but instead he picked at a fluff and flicked it away with so much disgust, revulsion, and abhorrence you couldn’t help but laugh. 

Something flashed in his eyes. And then his features softened. 

“You did not go on your date?”

You couldn’t even pretend to be sad. “No, he never replied so I guess he lost interest.”

He hummed.

The two of you began strolling again, just as you did most days, sometimes even multiple times a day when he was feeling especially irritable. The tone of his voice held a certain sharpness you couldn’t quite place and when he met your gaze, the soft glow of the lanterns making him look gentler, much more human, more...attainable, you finally spotted a speckle of what you knew to be blood, having cleaned it off the floors and walls yourself too many times. 

And your imagination ran wild, a frenzy of butterflies appearing in your stomach. 

Sukuna really was too sweet for your own good.

[fireinmoonshot]

kiss it better | joaquin torres x reader

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Reader Summary: While attempting to hide a present from Joaquin, you give yourself a minor injury. Joaquin has a habit of overreacting whenever you injure yourself – no matter how small. Warnings: Mentions of a paper cut and hurting your hand. Word Count: 1.6k A/N: This is completely self indulgent because I did slam my finger in a door at work today and I immediately thought about how Joaquin would make such a big deal about tiny injuries, so I suffered through the sore finger while typing to write this tonight 😂💗

“Angel, I’m home!” Joaquin calls, closing the door to your apartment behind him and dumping his gym bag on the table by the front door. He kicks off his shoes and looks into the apartment, confused at the lack of response from you. “Angel?”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks for new messages from you but sees none, confusing him even more. If you’d left the house, you would have texted him to tell him, knowing he was due home from the gym soon. There was nowhere else you could be and he was certain of it.

Frowning, Joaquin wanders further into your apartment, figuring he’ll just go room to room and find you that way. You have to be here somewhere. He won’t let himself worry about where you could be if you’re not here. 

“You in here?” Joaquin attempts, calling out again as he pushes open the door to your bedroom. The light is on and the curtains are open, letting the evening light into the room. If you’d gone out, you would’ve shut the curtains and turned off the light…

He’s about to call out again when he hears a muffled swear word from the walk-in closet, just off to the side of your bedroom. He heads towards it, pulling open the door to see you hurriedly pulling a blanket over something in the corner of the room and then clutching your hand to your chest with a wince.

You’re hurt.

“Angel, what happened?” Joaquin is in front of you in seconds, his hands reaching out to take yours in his and inspect it. He’s confused when he can’t see any visible damage. There’s no cuts and there’s no blood. It doesn’t dull his worry, though.

“It’s fine, baby,” you attempt to pull your hand out of his grasp to no avail. “I just accidentally slammed the drawer and caught my finger in it. It’ll hurt for a bit but it’s okay.”

Worry fills Joaquin’s eyes. Even though it’s only a small injury, he takes it very seriously. He steps beside you, wrapping his arm around you and holding your injured hand with his other hand before leading you out of the closet and into the kitchen.

“Sit here,” he says, pulling a stool out for you and making sure you sit on it before he grabs a tea towel and heads to the freezer. He fills the towel with ice before coming back over to you, gently placing your hand on the counter and holding the ice to your sore finger. “Hold this on there for a while, okay? It’ll help with the pain. Do you want some painkillers?”

You shake your head. “It’s really okay, Joaquin. I’ve done this before. I think everyone has slammed their finger in a door at some point in their life. It’s like an unwritten right of passage.” You listen to him, though, continuing to hold the ice to your finger. It’s throbbing, shooting pain through your hand, but you try to ignore it as best you can.

Joaquin’s immediate response to the injury does make you smile, though. No matter how small the injury was, you could always guarantee that Joaquin would make a big deal out of it and treat it like it was life or death. You vividly remember the time you got a paper cut while wrapping Christmas presents and he’d been two seconds away from driving you straight to the Emergency Room. 

Joaquin sighs and pulls out the stool beside you to sit down on it. “What were you doing in there anyway, angel? I called out when I got home and you never replied. Made me worried as hell.” He reaches out a hand and rests it on your thigh, giving it a squeeze.

That… was not something easy to explain. Joaquin’s birthday was coming up in a few weeks and the present you’d ordered for him had arrived a week and a half early from the estimated delivery date. You’d been figuring out a way to hide it so that he wouldn’t see it, deciding that the corner of the closet he very rarely even used since most of the things in it were yours, was the best place… until he got home from the gym earlier than you’d expected and you’d slammed your finger in the drawer you’d gotten the blanket from.

“This is going to sound so sketchy,” you sigh, resting your good hand on top of his. “But I can’t tell you yet. Can you just believe that I had a good reason to be in there and not replying to you when you called out to me? I promise you’ll find out in due time.” 

Joaquin is not the type to fight you on it but you can see the confusion in his eyes. Thankfully, he agrees to let it go – for now. “All right, but only if you promise I’ll find out the reason eventually. I’ll hold you to that and you know I will.”

“I promise,” you smile, giving his hand a squeeze. “How long do I have to have this ice on my hand?” You look over at it. “This ice is freezing and I think I’m starting to lose feeling in my fingers. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

Your words are, unsurprisingly, taken much too seriously by your boyfriend. Joaquin stands up from the stool, grabbing the ice and removing it from your hand. He peers down at your hand, which looks exactly the same as it did before, just much colder. 

“You know, I think maybe you should have your finger looked at,” he starts. “What if you broke a bone and it’s not just bruised? I’ll just go and get changed out of my gym gear and then I’ll go pull the car around the front so you don’t have to go all the way down–”

“Joaquin.”

You cut him off, placing a hand on his arm. There he goes again, being overly cautious with your small injuries. It’s hard not to smile at him. The look on his face makes you fall in love with him even more. 

“I haven’t broken a bone, baby. It’s just bruised and still sore cause I only did it like five minutes ago. It’s going to take a while to feel better again,” you explain. “I don’t think we need to rush off to the hospital for something like a smashed finger.”

Joaquin’s eyes widen. “A smashed finger sounds pretty bad…”

You can’t help but smile at him now. The poor boy is unaware of how completely adorable he is. With everything he does for a job, you’re constantly surprised at how innocent he can be regarding certain topics. 

“Let’s make a deal,” you offer. “If my finger is still hurting really badly tomorrow, if it’s really swollen and I can’t bend it, for example, then I’ll let you drive me to the hospital to get it looked at. But if it’s fine, but still sore, then we don’t have to go to the Emergency Room.”

Joaquin sighs and looks between your face and your hand before slowly nodding his head. “Okay, deal. But you promise you’ll tell me if it’s hurting really badly or you can’t bend it?”

“I promise,” you nod, a thought suddenly occurring to you – a sure fire way to make Joaquin feel better about the whole situation. “But one more thing…” 

“Anything.”

You raise your hand a little off the table. “Will you kiss it better for me?”

A smile makes its way onto Joaquin’s lips, a sudden playfulness replacing his worry – not entirely, but enough to make a difference in his attitude. “Of course I will, angel. We both know that my kisses have healing powers.”

You gasp jokingly. “Does that mean you’re going around kissing people when you’re off saving the world? And all this time I thought you were being a badass Falcon…”

Joaquin smirks, clearly amused. “Pretty sure we’ve established this many times before, that you are the only person on earth who gets my kisses these days, and for the rest of our lives if I have anything to say about it,” he says. 

Gently, he reaches his hand to take yours, making sure not to put too much pressure on your sore finger, and bends down to press his lips to your hand. He’s careful with his kiss, really only brushing his lips lightly over the injury, but it makes you smile nonetheless.

“I think I’m all better now,” you grin up at him as he stands up straight again. 

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Despite my healing powers, will you still let me look after you tonight?” 

“It’d be my honour to be taken care of by you, Joaquin Torres,” you reply. “We could even play a video game if you wanted? I know there’s that new one you were talking about playing with me a few weeks ago.”

Joaquin sucks in a breath and shakes his head. “Okay, first things first – you gotta know how attractive you are telling me you wanna play a video game with me. But second – playing video games involve using controllers, which means having full use of all your fingers, and considering one of your hands is injured, at least until my healing powers really kick in, I’m gonna have to veto that option.”

“You make a fair point,” you hum. “Rain check on the video game, then?”

“You bet I’m gonna take you up on that offer, angel,” he smiles. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. It instantly warms you up from the inside out, even managing to somehow warm your still ice chilled hand. “Now, should we order takeout? I’m thinking Pizza or Mexican. Thoughts?”

[seasidefallenangel]

she's got those evil eyes

bllk boys and their mean girlfriends ft isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, reo mikage, alexis ness, bachira meguru

notes: reader is a BITCH! (not to the boys), actual horrible shit being said by reader but our boys are too in love to notice or care, suicide mentions, i'm not condoning what reader does the point is that they're feral

༄ isagi:

✣ you’re his precious angel who can do no wrong, so of course he’s defending you tooth and nail. when you’re at his games flipping off the opposite team he thinks you’re too adorable for words. during practice, kaiser is ragging on him as usual and you’re there before isagi can blink, telling kaiser that no wonder his dad hit him with a shitty personality like that. insanely harsh, but you’re so cute to have his back!

⁀➷ “you need to stop getting yourself hurt like this, princess,” isagi murmurs as he gently applies an antiseptic to your knuckles. he wasn’t expecting you to punch rin in the face after some off-handed comment during practice (mostly stemming from rin’s own insecurities, but you’re not tolerating any disrespect towards your man.) isagi had stepped in right as rin was about to retaliate and you had gotten kicked off the field anyway, leading to the impromptu patch-up in the locker room. 

with a final piece of medical tape, he kisses your bruised hand and smiles softly at you, cupping your cheek in his palm. “thank you for being my knight in shining armor, baby,” he says gently, all the love in the world filling his voice. maybe you’re not the most ethical about it, but your desire to protect him more than makes up for it in his eyes.

༄ sae:

✣ always assumes you’re correct in every single situation. he looks to be nonchalant about your dating life, but he is easily your number one shooter. you’re on twitter telling his fans to kill themselves when they talk about how attractive he is or how he should break up with you and he’s in the kitchen smirking at his phone watching you go to war. never once in his life has he ever gave a shit about what people think about him, but the second something about you is viewed in a negative light? all bets are off. he’ll get just as toxic as you are.

⁀➷ the reporters are crowding him the second he’s getting off the plane. he already knows exactly what it’s about yet it still pisses him off. in his opinion, people are at fault for provoking you in the first place. in an irritating attempt to get his attention, one of the interviewers calls out, “sae! what do you have to say about your girlfriend tweeting ‘if i was your mom i would’ve killed myself too’ to one of your fans?!” 

yeah, he saw that one, and he thought it was funny. someone had been trying to rile you up by saying how re ai would be better off without sae on the team. unfortunately for them, they had “rip mom🩵🕊️” in their bio, giving you the perfect ammo to shoot back with. he clears his throat and simply says, “she’s right,” before walking off, leaving the paparazzi stunned.

༄ reo:

✣ you are so awful for the mikage image and reo loves every second of it. having such a stagnant and pre-planned upbringing versus your unhinged nature was just what he needed. barely a week can go by without you trending online for something heinous you said or did. in turn, you have quite a large following for simply how funny your antics and toxicity towards others is. reo must have the most heavily tinted rose colored glasses ever, because he always talks about how sweet and kind you are. the fans are still searching for the person he’s trying to describe, because it sure as hell isn’t you.

⁀➷ you’re lounging in bed, mindlessly scrolling on your phone when reo approaches you. like clockwork, you shift into his arms as he climbs into bed and relaxes next to you. his fingers are running through your hair when he finally asks in the most soft and gentle voice, “my love, why are you being called out on twitter again?” of course, you’re always sure to voice how it isn’t really your fault and that people should stop pissing you off if they don’t want you to come for their necks. 

quite honestly, he’s not really listening ; not because he’s not interested, but because you’re just irresistible when you defend yourself. regardless of whether or not you’re actually at fault (you are), he still sees you as his precious and adorable lover. he simply nods and leaves feather light kisses up and down the side of your neck, mumbling something like, “how dare they?” or “you’re so smart, angel,” every so often. if you ever were to get in any real trouble, the mikage fortune would be there to bail you out - so he sees no real reason to stop your tirades. 

༄ alexis:

✣ “me and my girl don’t argue she tells me to shut up and i do.” ness is honestly thankful for how much of a raging bitch you can be. not only does he never see anything wrong with it, but actively encourages it as well. you’re cussing out the mcdonald’s worker for putting pickles on his burger while he’s behind you with a dopey smile on his face, clinging to you like a lifeline. the only time he had to tug you away is when you were half a second away from clawing kaiser’s eyes out and had his neck bruising beneath your fingers for insinuating ness was more of a dog than a person. the german is still terrified whenever you accompany your boyfriend to practice.

⁀➷ in all the plans alexis had for his future, standing in front of the two people that crushed his childhood fantasies in facts and testing wasn’t one of them. he had left on a bitter note when he joined bastard münchen yet hadn’t found the courage to voice his true feelings on the matter. luckily for him, you had no shortage of guts to lay into his parents without fear.

for the first time in their lives, they’re stunned silent at your vicious words and mockery of their profession, upbringing, parenting, even going so far as to point out his mother’s physical imperfections and saying the only worthwhile thing she did was give birth a child that wasn’t nearly as ugly as she is. they can’t even get a word in before you grab alexis’ hand and drag him out, kicking a dent in his father’s car for good measure. even though your display was nothing short of pure evil, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt closer to god than when you cradle him in your hold, whispering words of love and praise into his ear. being a crybaby was something he was told he should be ashamed of, but the sensation left behind when you wipe his grateful tears is worth it to him.

༄ bachira:

✣ might honestly be the biggest enabler on this entire list along with alexis. he absolutely lives for chaos plus he’s too sickeningly in love with you to ever question a move you might make. he can hear you arguing with ego on the phone about bachira being overworked and while normally nothing phases blue lock’s director, the death threats you sent to his office were incredibly convincing and contained information that should’ve been impossible to obtain. he’d probably hire you if he wasn’t positive you’d pipe bomb the entire structure if anyone even gave a dirty look to your boyfriend. 

⁀➷  “whatcha doiiiinnnn?” bachira asks while plopping on top of the couch - in the exact spot while you were resting, mind you. you let out a light ‘oof!’ as his weight crushes you for a moment before leveling out. the second his head falls to rest on your stomach, you're carding one hand through his hair while the other angrily taps on your phone. he doesn’t really think to ask as he’s on the verge of falling asleep, but the sound he has set for your tweets dings from his phone (because of course he has notifications for you on.)

he lazily unlocks his phone and clicks onto the app only to bust out into laughter. whatever useless no-name had decided to say bachira’s playstyle only hinders his teammates was met with your quote retweet stating to ‘go take a long walk off a short bridge.’ in his overly happy splendor, he blows raspberries onto the soft skin of your tummy while you squeal and try to push him off. stubborn as he is he just refuses to let up until you're curled up in laughter. behind his silliness, he’s eternally grateful to have someone so devoted to him after years of isolation from his peers. he can’t help but think he’d do anything to keep you in his grasp - regardless of the consequences that might follow.

[keraawrites]

Don't play wit' me

Summary: Dealer Eren AU, Eren doesn't play when it comes to you, and you loved how you had him wrapped around your finger. So when you don't get your way one day, no one can blame you for being a tad bit bratty. ۶ৎ Eren x black fem reader ۶ৎ

Context: Drug use, use of the word nigga, tongue piercing, tattoo's, alcohol use, bratty reader, rough sex, oral (m&f), chocking, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys x), pole dancing, degrading, use of word daddy, ma, mama, public sex (?)

Word count — 5.7k

You couldn't help the small smile that tugged on your brown-stained lips as you watched your man put a gun to some bum ass nigga's head for calling you out of your name.

Everyone who knew Eren knew you. He was the biggest dealer around, not only for his top product but for the fact that he had such great referrals. Eren didn't like strangers until they were vetted by him, Levi, and Connie, so it was strange that Jean had recommended someone to him, but it was even stranger that he let it slide without any background check.

Maybe it was because he was in a good mood after you took his dick in your mouth ten minutes earlier.

You often went along with Eren to his drops and to the trap, so it wasn't strange to see you prancing around. As you were friendly with his boss and the rest of his friends, Eren had no problem bringing you.

But there was a little hiccup. Jean.

Eren never really considered him a friend—God knows why—but he did sell to him, so when Jean brought a guest with him to the trap, all hell broke loose when said nigga called you the trap whore and asked when he could have a turn with you.

The room went silent. Eren’s head snapped toward the guy so fast, before anyone could even process what happened, he had the barrel of his Glock pressed right between the dude’s brows, his jaw tight, emerald eyes glinting with a rage that was barely contained.

"Say that shit again," Eren’s voice was eerily calm, too calm.

Jean took a step back, hands raised. "Eren, chill, bro—"

"Nah, fuck that." Eren cocked the gun, pressing it harder into the guy’s forehead. "You think you can just walk up in here, talk on my girl, and walk out breathing?"

The guy stammered, sweat beading along his hairline. "I-I ain't mean it like that, man—"

"Oh, you ain’t mean it like that?" Eren mocked, tilting his head. "So what the fuck did you mean?"

The whole room held its breath. Even Levi, usually unbothered by anything, shifted slightly in his seat, arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold. Connie, sitting a few feet away, shook his head with a low chuckle.

He continued to stammer, his tough-guy act completely squashed under Eren’s glare. You sighed, arms crossed, tapping your nails against your thigh as you watched the scene unfold. This wasn’t new. Eren never let disrespect slide, especially when it came to you.

Levi finally spoke up, voice dry. "Eren, we got business to handle. Ain't no point wasting a bullet on some dumbass who won't live long in this game anyway."

Eren didn’t move immediately, his trigger finger twitching slightly. You could tell he was debating it. You wouldn’t stop him if he pulled it—you knew how he was.

Still, you sighed dramatically, shifting in your seat. “Renny,” your voice was soft, lilting, deliberately sweet.

Eren’s shoulders dropped slightly at the sound of your voice. He let out a short breath through his nose before taking a slow step back, lowering the piece.

"Get the fuck out," Eren muttered, voice still deadly.

The guy didn’t need to be told twice. He stumbled back, practically tripping over himself as he bolted out the door. Jean lingered for a second, giving you and Eren an unreadable look before following after him.

Eren turned to you, jaw still tight, but his eyes softened just a little. "You good?"

You smirked, reaching up to brush a thumb across his jaw. "Of course. My man handled it."

He let out a small, satisfied hum, pulling you in close, fingers curling around your waist. "Damn right I did."

You leaned in, voice a low whisper. "Still owe me for leaving me hanging earlier."

Eren chuckled, pressing a slow kiss against your lips before murmuring against them, "I’ll make it up to you, baby. In every way you want."

That's how it was. Eren didn't play when it came to you. You want a fresh set? He'd give you more than enough money. You want a new coach bag? He gives you his black card and tells you to go nuts. You want some dick? He'll stop what he's doing and has you crying on his cock before you can think.

So yeah, three years with the man has made you endlessly spoiled—you always got your way.

Your brows were furrowed as you looked down at the text that lit your screen. You were confused, very confused.

'Have to rain check on our date ma, gotta deal with some shit'

You blinked, your fingers hovering over the keyboard—you were a little confused, not knowing how to respond to something you weren't used to.

You pressed the ringer next to his name before you could think. You could hear it ring for a while, anger starting to bubble in your chest, thinking he wasn't going to answer your call.

"Ma, I cant talk—“

You cut him off before he could finish. "What do you mean you have to reschedule?"

You could hear music and shouting in the background but you didn't care, "I got shit to deal with, I'll take you out tomorrow--“

"Eren, no," you snapped, your body shifting in your shared oversized bathtub, your nails tapping against the sides, "I don’t wanna go out tomorrow. I gotta help Mikasa with some shit so I want to go out today, like you promised."

He sighed on the other end. "Ma, don’t start—"

"Don’t start what? Getting upset that my man is ditching me? After I just had a bath with all those essential oils that you like? Had my hair done, nails fresh, bought a tight ass dress that you said would make my ass like fat? And for what? A damn rain check?"

You heard him exhale sharply. "You know I don’t wanna do this, baby, but shit came up. Business. You know how it is."

"Nah, what I know is that I always come first." Your tone was laced with attitude, lips pouting even though he couldn’t see it.

He was quiet for a second, and you could picture him rubbing his temple, jaw clenched. You didn’t care. Eren never told you no. He always made time. So the fact that he was choosing not to right now? Unacceptable.

"Ma—"

"Nope," you interrupted, shifting again as the bubbles rose, your fingers pulling a fresh blunt off your bath table, voice turning syrupy sweet but still full of attitude. "I get it. You got 'shit to deal with.’ So I’ma go find something else to do too. 

"Oi--"

"Byeeee." You hung up the phone, kissing your teeth, you watched as he tried to call you again, knowing he hated it when you cut him off.

You continued to ignore him as you sent Historia and Sasah a text asking if they were still going to the club. The two quickly hit you back with a yes and said they'd swing by to get you in 40 minutes.

You were glad your makeup and hair were already done, you set your bath knowing you liked the dewy look it gave your freshly beat face.

You sighed as you took a drag from the freshly lit blunt that sat between your fingers, letting the smooth smoke curl around your lips before exhaling.

The sound of your phone buzzing again caught your attention, your eyes darting down to the last text you knew Eren would send you for the night.

'Don't play with me'

You felt the hum of the weed running through you as a small smirk pulled on your lips. You opened the message, letting him know you had read it before locking your phone.

By the time you stepped out of the bath, the weed had settled into your bloodstream, leaving you warm and buzzing. The bathroom mirror was fogged up, but you could still see the outline of your figure as you slipped into a dangerously low-cut silver dress that showed off your spine tattoo, the fabric hugging your curves like it was made for you.

Biting your lip, you took a quick selfie, your fingers placed gently on your neck, purposely showing off your ring finger that had his name tatted across. Hearing the honk of a car, you licked your lips as you quickly made a post to Instagram, tagging your man before you grabbed your clutch and waltzed out the front door.

C'mre daddy.

The club was already packed when you walked in with Historia and Sasha, neon lights bouncing off your skin, the bass of the music thrumming deep in your chest as you made your way through the crowd.

You were playing with fire; you saw the look of recognition in the bouncer's eyes as he noticed you. You could see the hesitation in him, but with a raised brow, he let you through. You knew Eren would know where you were the minute you stepped into his club.

Yes, his club.

Annie and Ymir were already in the VIP section, waiting, drinks in hand. Annie, ever the minimalist, had on a fitted two-piece, gold jewelry catching the light as she raised her glass in greeting. Ymir, sprawled lazily on one of the couches, smirked at her blonde girlfriend, squeals leaving her lips as she practically pounced on the short-haired brunette.

“About time,” Ymir teased. “Figured Eren had you locked up somewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, plopping down beside her. “Boy’s acting up tonight. Fucking cancelled on me so here I am--"

"You mean he told you no, so now you're in his club, knowing he probably already knows you're here?"

You smirked, your tongue running along your teeth, the cool metal of your piercing clinking with your pearly whites. Your fingers ran against the rim of the shot glass before downing the tequila.

"Exactly, so let me go shake my ass."

Eren continued to faze out the stupid argument between Connie and Armin as he lazily rolled a blunt between his fingers. He wasn’t paying them much attention; his focus was on his phone, eyes scanning through messages from his men.

At first, he thought he had read it wrong.

Then another text came through.

And another.

"Yo, your girl just walked into the club."

Eren’s brows furrowed.

Nah. No way.

There was no way that you were acting out all because he had to reschedule. Actually, scratch that, that is exactly what you were doing, and he knew he should have seen it coming.

His jaw clenched, his fingers flexing around his phone as more messages popped up.

"She came with Historia and Sasha." "VIP spotted her with Annie and Ymir."

Eren’s grip on his blunt tightened. He was already annoyed as it was—you had hung up on him earlier, ignored his text and calls, and now? You were out, in his fucking club, acting like he wasn’t going to find out?

Armin must’ve noticed the sudden shift in his demeanor because he leaned in. "Something wrong?"

Eren didn’t respond right away, instead unlocking his phone and scrolling through Instagram. He had a feeling—one that was confirmed the moment he saw your post.

"C’mere, daddy."

That picture. That fucking picture.

Your smooth, dark skin glowing under the dim light of your shared bedroom, the silver dress clinging to your curves like it was made for you, the way you placed your fingers just right to show off the tattoo of his name across your ring finger.

Eren’s nostrils flared. His tongue ran across his teeth, that little muscle in his jaw ticking.

Oh, you were real bold tonight, huh?

Armin, still waiting for an answer, gave Eren a skeptical look. "Eren? What is it?"

Eren exhaled sharply, his voice rough. "She’s at the club."

Armin rubbed his temple. "Shit. Annie told me the girls were going out, but she never mentioned—" He trailed off, eyes darting to Eren’s phone. His brows lifted as he took in the post. "Oh."

Eren didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He picked up his keys, and the two followed right behind him.

Connie was grinning like a cat got milk in the back, windows rolled down as he continued to smoke. The speakers blaring with some rap song Armin put on but Eren couldn't care about those two, he was thinking how he was gonna spank your ass raw for acting like a spoiled brat.

He pulled up to the club not that long after; it was no surprise, given how fast he was speeding. Connie dapped the bouncer, but Eren was already pushing through bodies as he entered the club. The atmosphere was thick—sweaty bodies grinding to the heavy bass, flashing neon lights casting everything in deep shades of red and purple.

His eyes scanned the VIP section, his gaze falling on Ymir and Annie. He was getting ready to barge over to them, but he felt it. He felt you.

The green hue of his eyes scanned the crowd until it landed on the cheering crowd, whistling, roaring men, their greedy hands throwing cash towards the stage.

His body went rigid.

He was going to kill you.

Eren’s breath stilled in his chest as his gaze locked onto you, his entire world narrowing down to the sight before him.

You moved with a kind of confidence that made his stomach twist, muscles flexing as you spun around the pole, the silver dress clinging to your curves like a second skin. The fabric barely covered your ass as you dipped low, teasing, taunting, daring.

Eren’s jaw ticked, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

The brunettes jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He could hear Connie mutter a "Goddamn" under his breath, and even Armin, usually the most composed of the three, shifted uncomfortably.

Eren moved slowly, ignoring the two who probably ran off to find their perspective women as he continued to watch you. He wasn't a bitch, but if you could describe what he was feeling it was fucking love, love and hate.

His stomach was a wreck as you worked that pole like you owned it. Eren never forgot how much he loved you even when you pissed him off like today and watching your perfect self make other men hard was how he loved you the most.

He watched as your dark skin gleamed under the dim lights, muscles flexing and moving with every precise motion. You twisted, arching your back just right as your hands traced down your body. Your hips rolled, slow and seductive, before you spun again, gripping the pole with ease, confidence dripping from every movement.

Your eyes—half-lidded, sultry—flicked up, scanning the crowd.

His lips pulled, your gazes locked. His arms crossed as he continued to watch you, noticing the slight hesitation in your movement but you didn't stop.

Eren inhaled sharply through his nose, his patience hanging by a fucking thread.

The music was pounding, the crowd cheering, money leaving the hands that reached toward you, but Eren didn’t hear or see any of it.

All he saw was you.

The way you dropped down, ass nearly touching the floor before rising back up, body winding like you were made of liquid.

The way your fingers ran down the length of the pole before wrapping around it again, your tongue swiping along your lips, that teasing little expression still in place.

You watched as he started pushing through the crowd, having had enough of your game, so you thought, why not double down.

Your leg curled around the pole, the cheers loud, your ass facing the crowd as you began to give the crowd a little twerk. The roar of the men around you—the way their hands stretched toward you like they had a fucking chance—

The hem of your dress flapping against your ass was what set him over the edge— well it could have been a number of things but before you knew it you had been dragged off the stage.

The boos of the crowd was drowned out as Eren's tatted hand held a firm grip, almost brusing grip on your wrist as he pulled you towards his back office.

You stumbled slightly as he dragged you through the club, your heels clicking against the floor, but he didn’t let up, didn’t speak, didn’t fucking look at you.

You bit your lip, hiding the smug little grin threatening to form. Oh, he was mad.

But you weren’t stupid. You could feel the heat rolling off him, the tension in his muscles, the way his fingers flexed against your skin.

The moment he kicked open the door to his office and yanked you inside, Eren slammed the door shut, pushing you up against it before you could get a word out. His hands braced on either side of your head, his chest rising and falling in deep, heavy breaths.

You tilted your chin up, refusing to break eye contact, that bratty little smirk still playing on your lips. "Something wrong, daddy?"

His nostrils flared. "Don’t fucking start with me."

"Start what?" You batted your lashes innocently, running your hands up his chest, feeling how his muscles tense under your touch.

A soft moan left your lips, his tattooed ring-clad hand had wrapped around your throat, you continued to stare up at him, watching the muscles in his jaw tighten, your pussy clenched around nothing as you noticed how dark his eyes got—how angry he was.

Fuck.

"You wanna act up just cause I told you no? I spoil you too god damn much." His voice was low, dark, dripping with restrained hunger.

A whine left your lips, his thumb rubbing against your lips"You always give me what I want, Renny." Your eyes never left his as your lips wrapped softly around the tip of his thumb.

You could barley make out the 'fuck' that he muttered under his breath, eyes hooded, watching the way your soft lips moved. Eren’s jaw clenched so tight you thought it might shatter. His thumb pressed down against your tongue, the cool feel of your piercing rubbed against the ridges on his thumb. He watched the way your soft lips wrapped around it, the way your warm mouth sucked just enough to send all the blood in his body rushing straight to his dick.

His grip on your throat tightened, forcing your head back against the door as he leaned in, his breath hot against your lips.

"I do always give you what you want, don’t I? Treat you like a fucking queen." His voice was low and rough. "That why you think you can get away with this shit?"

Your lashes fluttered, your hands smoothing up his chest, nails grazing over the tattoos on his arm. Your birthday in Roman numerals.

"You don’t tell me no," you whispered, your lips brushing against his thumb as you spoke. "So I don’t know why you thought you could start today."

Eren exhaled sharply, his hand leaving your throat only to grab your chin, tilting your head further back. His eyes burned into yours, that sharp emerald gaze swimming with a hunger that had your thighs pressing together.

"You know what your problem is, ma?" His fingers slid down, his knuckles grazing your pulse. "You think you run this shit. Think you can act up, go out, put on a little fucking show—"

His voice dropped lower, more dangerous.

"—and I won’t remind you exactly who you belong to."

Your breath hitched, pussy throbbing at the way he was looking at you, at the way he was speaking to you.

"You should," you whispered, lips barely brushing against his. "Remind me, I mean."

Eren growled.

His hands were on you in an instant, gripping your waist, spinning you around so your front pressed against the cold surface of his desk. His fingers curled around the back of your neck, pressing you down slightly, just enough to make you shiver.

"You wanna be a fucking brat?" he muttered, his other hand dragging your dress up your thighs, exposing more and more of your soft, glistening skin. "Act up just to get my attention?"

You smirked against the desk, arching your back slightly. "Worked, didn’t it?"

Eren smacked your ass, hard.

A gasp ripped from your throat, your fingers curling against the desk as your skin burned from the contact.

"Yeah," he murmured, smoothing a palm over the spot he just hit before landing another sharp slap, making you whimper. "Worked real fucking good."

His lips brushed against your ear, his breath warm, sending chills down your spine.

"You just love making me mad, huh, baby?" His fingers dipped between your thighs, sliding against the damp lace of your panties, pressing right against the spot that had you trembling.

You couldn’t fucking speak, not when his fingers were right there, not when he was teasing you like this, his voice deep and smug, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

"You’re soaked," he hummed, slipping a single finger under the fabric, gliding it through your wetness. "You got yourself this fucking wet dancing for other men?"

You turned your head slightly, your cheek pressed against the desk as you stared up at him, lips parting slightly.

"Nah," you whispered, breathless, needy, bratty. "I got wet thinking about you dragging me back here and fucking me like you should’ve after our date."

Eren’s grip on your neck tightened.

His fingers pressed deeper against your soaked panties, teasing the sensitive bud just enough to make you whimper. "You fucking piss me off," he murmured, voice dark, low.

You turned your head, lips curling into a smirk "You piss me off too Ren," you purred, shifting your hips just enough to grind against his fingers. "But I guess that's why you love me."

Eren inhaled sharply through his nose.

Your panties were ripped off before you could even process it, the lace tearing in his grip before being tossed somewhere across the room. His palm smacked against your bare ass, a sharp sting blossoming where he hit, your thighs twitching at the sensation.

"I spoil you too much."

You hummed, a teasing little sound, looking back at him with half-lidded eyes. "You do."

Eren’s jaw ticked. "Yeah? And this is how you thank me?"

You gave him a little shrug, hips shifting, rubbing your slick folds against the hard outline of his dick through his jeans. "Only want your attention Renny."

Eren grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back just enough to expose your throat, his lips hovering over your ear.

"You had it the second you walked on that stage," he murmured, voice like gravel.

Eren wasted no more time. His belt clinked, the sound making your thighs clench together in anticipation, your breath stalling as you felt the heat of him pressing against you. His free hand gripped your hip, keeping you in place as he slid his cock between your slick folds.

Your lips parted, a soft whimper slipping out as he coated himself in your wetness, dragging his length up and down your folds, teasing your clit just enough to make you squirm.

"Eren," you whined, pushing your hips back, desperate for more, for him.

He exhaled sharply, his fingers digging into your skin. "Fucking slut, just wanted to be drunk on my cock huh?"

You nodded, moaning softly as he pressed the thick head of his cock right against your entrance, so close, but still not enough.

"Say it," he demanded, his grip tightening, his lips brushing against your ear.

You whimpered, your body trembling with need. "I want to be drunk on you."

He groaned, the sound went staright to your cunt, with one rough thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching you open, filling you up all at once. A choked gasp tore from your throat, fingers scrambling against the surface of the desk, nails digging into the wood.

"Fuck—Eren!" Your voice broke on the last syllable, your walls clenching around him, trying to adjust to the sudden fullness.

His fingers tightened in your hair, keeping your head tilted back, his other hand spreading over your stomach, holding you still.

"You feel that, ma?" he murmured against your ear, voice dark, laced with raw need. "This dick ain’t for nobody else.And you got the nerve to be up there, showing off?"

A moan spilled from your lips as he dragged out of you slowly, the thick length of him pressing against your walls in all the right ways, before he slammed back in, hard enough to make the desk beneath you shake.

"Answer me," he demanded, his palm cracking against your ass, leaving behind a sting that only made the heat between your legs burn hotter.

You whined, gripping the edge of the desk, your body trembling as he set a brutal pace, thrusting into you with deep, punishing strokes that left you breathless.

"I—" You tried to speak, but another thrust had you moaning instead.

Eren clicked his tongue, his grip on your hip tightening, his thumb pressing into the dip of your spine. "Nah, use your words, baby. You had all that attitude before—where is it now?"

Your nails dragged against the desk, your thighs shaking, toes curling in your heels. "Y-you’re right," you finally managed, voice shaky, wrecked. "I was acting up."

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, but there was no humor in it—just heat. "Damn right you were."

His fingers slid lower, dipping between your thighs, finding your clit and rubbing slow, deliberate circles, a sharp contrast to the way he was fucking you into the desk.

Your entire body jerked, a whimper tumbling from your lips as your walls clenched around him.

Eren groaned, his hips stuttering for just a second before he picked up the pace, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur.

"You know I’d give you whatever you want," he murmured, his lips grazing your jaw, his breath hot against your skin.

You barely processed his words—too lost in the feeling of him, the way he stretched you, filled you, owned every inch of you like he had something to prove.

"Tell me you’re mine," he growled, his hand tightening around your throat, his cock throbbing inside you.

Your lips parted, a desperate little whimper escaping as your body arched against him, surrendering completely. "I’m yours, daddy—fuck, I’m yours."

Eren groaned, his hips slamming into you harder, rougher, deeper.

"Yeah," he muttered, voice strained, wrecked. "You fucking are."

His grip on your throat tightened, his fingers pressing into the sides just enough to make your head swim, your breath hitch. He was so fucking deep, splitting you open on his cock, your walls fluttering around him as he pounded into you, using your body just how he wanted.

"Look at you," he gritted, his voice dark, condescending, dripping with heat. His hand tugged your head back, forcing your spine into a deep arch, your chest pressing against the cool wood of his desk. "Acting all high and mighty earlier, bratty as fuck— now you can’t even talk. Can’t even think, huh?"

You whimpered, your fingers curling into fists, your thighs trembling as he fucked you hard, each stroke knocking the air from your lungs, pushing you closer to that sweet, devastating edge.

Eren chuckled, low and taunting. "Nah, don’t get quiet now, ma. You wanted my attention, didn’t you? Thought you could act like a fucking slut in front of all those men and not deal with me?"

A sharp slap to your ass had you gasping, your pussy clenching around him in response.

Eren groaned, his hips faltering for just a second before he snapped back into rhythm, his grip on your throat loosened just enough for his fingers to slide up, gripping your jaw, forcing your head up.

"Look at yourself," he ordered, tilting your chin towards the dark glass of the office window, the faint reflection of your fucked-out expression staring back at you.

Your lips were swollen, glossy, parted. Your mascara was smudged, your hair a mess. Your eyes—half-lidded, hazy, desperate.

Eren grinned. "Such a fucking mess." His hand slipped between your legs again, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, brutal circles. "You like being fucked like this, huh? Like being put in your place?"

You sobbed out a moan, your entire body trembling.

Eren's grip tightened on your jaw, his fingers pressing into your cheeks, forcing your mouth open as he spat onto your tongue.

"Swallow it," he ordered.

And you did. Without hesitation.

Eren groaned, his hips stuttering, his cock twitching inside you. "That’s my fucking girl."

Your walls clamped down around him, your orgasm hitting you hard, sudden, unforgiving. Your body shook, your moans breaking as your climax crashed over you, pleasure swallowing you whole.

Your breathing became staggered, your vision trying to focus as you came down from your high but Eren had other ideas. Your back, ass now hanging off the edge of the desk, Eren spread your legs wide, his head immediately dipping between your thighs.

A broken moan tore from your throat as his tongue found your clit, pressing against you as he licked slow, teasing circles.

Your body arched, legs trembling, hands scrambling for purchase.

"Eren—fuck, oh my God," you gasped, your hips rolling against his mouth, but he only pinned you down harder.

"Be good," he murmured against you, his fingers digging into your thighs, keeping you still. "Take it."

And you did. You took it all— the messy, open-mouthed kisses he pressed against your folds, the way his tongue dipped inside you, teasing, curling, before returning to your clit, flicking against it just right.

It was too much. Your body shook, your mind blanked, your breath caught.

"Fuck, Eren, I—"

You came hard, your thighs squeezing around his head as he groaned against you, licking you through it.

But he didn’t give you time to recover. The second your high began to fade, he was already pressing you into the desk, pushing your legs up until they were practically touching your chest. Putting you in a delicious matting press,

A choked moan left your lips as he slid back inside you, stretching you all over again.

His hips snapped against yours roughly, the sound of skin slapping, your wetness, his growls and your cries filling the room.

"Look at you," he taunted, his lips curling. "Fucking ruined. Just. For. Me."

You could barely breathe, let alone talk back. Your fingers dug into his arms, your body jolting with each punishing thrust.

"You gonna stop acting out?" His hand wrapped around your throat again,

"Yes," you sobbed, the lewd sounds of your pussy and moans filled the room, you knew you had made a mess of the desk, knowing if you managed to get a peak you would see your cream all over his cock.

Eren’s tattooed fingers slipped between your bodies, his thumb rubbing slow, lazy circles over your clit, making you jolt, making you wail.

"E--rennnn." A desperate, breathless cry tore from your lips, your nails raking down his sweat-slick back as the pleasure coiled tight and hot in your belly.

"Yeah, that’s it. Take it."

He angled his hips just right, hitting that spot that had you trembling, shaking, gasping his name like a prayer.

"You gonna come again, sweetheart? Gonna make a mess all over my dick?"

You nodded frantically, helpless, wrecked.

"Please—Eren, fuck—please, I—"

"Do it," he ordered, his thumb pressing down harder, rubbing faster. "Come for me, baby"

You shattered, pleasure crashing over you like a fucking tidal wave, your body clenching, spasming, locking up as the orgasm ripped through you.

Eren cursed, his head dropping against your throat, his own breathing ragged, uneven.

"Fuck—good girl," he murmured against your sweat-damp skin, kissing, biting, licking.

You were soaked, trembling, overstimulated, but Eren kept going. His pace never slowed, never faltered. His cock was still thick, still heavy, still throbbing.

And he wanted more.

His fingers dug into your hips, lifting you, pulling you impossibly closer, forcing your bodies flush together as he fucked you through it, dragging out every last aftershock, every last whimper.

"One more," he murmured, almost soothing, almost sweet. "Just one more, baby."

You whimpered, nails dragging down his back as his pace grew. Your legs trembled from how deep he was, how good he was hitting that spot over and over again, like he was trying to imprint himself inside you.

"Fuck, Eren—I can’t—"

"Yes, the fuck you can," he snarled, his grip tightening on your thighs, forcing them higher, pressing you deeper into the desk.

The change in angle had you screaming, arching, gasping his name.

"That’s it," he groaned, sweat dripping down his temple. "Take it. Take every inch of this dick like the good fucking girl I know you are."

Your body seized up, pleasure snapping through you like a live wire. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your breath caught in your throat as your orgasm ripped through you, violent and all-consuming.

Eren felt it instantly. The way your walls fluttered and clenched around him, your body gripping him like a vice, refusing to let go.

His pace turned sloppy, erratic, desperate, his breathing ragged as he fucked you through your high, chasing his own.

Your name tumbled past his lips, over and over, reverent and raw, his forehead pressing against yours as he lost himself, buried deep.

"Fuck—" Eren gritted his teeth, his hands gripping your hips tight, bruising, before he slammed into you one last time, burying himself deep, his cock pulsing, twitching, spilling inside you.

The silence between you two was calming, your bodies still pressed together, you moaned softly as you felt him shift in you, he pressed a lazy kiss to your jaw.

Your hands trailed up his arms, fingertips ghosting over the ink covering his skin. You smirked, voice breathless, smug.

"I basically got what I wanted."

Eren could feel his eye twitch, you did his head in but you loved you nonetheless. Huffing a laugh, he bit down on your neck causing you to giggle.

"Too damn spoiled."

𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘢𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 ©

[youbitchuh]

Ridin Hamzah’s In Hawaii

fluff fluff and fluff :)

There is swear words tho!

(obviously theres gonna be smut in future stories i mean the title)

Hamzah x Reader (no mentions of y/n)

9:34am

The sound of Mandy constantly turning and sighing next to me was getting exaggerating, I know that this is just her way of asking me to get up without actually asking. I turn and face her and stay silent, she gives me a grin

“Hamzah was talking about you to Martin last night…i heard him” she says as her voice gets higher pitched with her last couple of words.

“Was he now…cool” I pretend to be cool by shrugging it off, “no big deal” I say as I sit up next to her. Pretending to not be absolutely in love with your best-friends boyfriend’s best-friend is so so hard and so draining..especially when you spend basically every minute together.

——————————————————————10:46am

I pop my lips and fix up my hair before exiting the bathroom. “how is my outfit?” I ask Mandy as she spins around on her heels to face me. I watch as her face lights up.

“Girl you look so cute” She exclaims as she walks closer to me, “and what about mwah” she says placing her hands on her chest to show off her outfit.

“You’re so gorgeous Mandy” I say with a pout.

*knock knock*

“Ill get it” Mandy says as she walks past me darting for our hotel door, “Oh hi Hamzah” She says almost upset that it wasn’t her boyfriend. My eyes dart up at the name “Are you two almost ready?” He says in a low tone, Mandy looks back at me sitting on the bed and nods. I grab the rest of my shit and start making my way to the door. I take in Hamzahs features, his curls, his smile, his nose. I smile at him awkwardly and stand with him. I clear my throat as I try to ignore the fact that I can feel his eyes burning into the side of my face.

———————————————————————1:57pm

I take a sip of my cocktail as I look over the bars balcony view of the beach, Mandy and Martin fucked off to God knows where and who the hell knows where Hamzah is. My trance is suddenly disrupted as a figure sits next to me. Its Hamzah.

“Hey” he says in a cheery tone watching me immediately straighten my posture.

“Oh hi..” I say trying to act unbothered, in reality im really nervous i mean ive known this guy for over a year and we have barley exchanged words with eachother but i still feel like i know everything about him. I face him and give him a soft smile.

“Where were you?” I ask curious of his were-abouts.

“Why did you miss me?” Hamzah jokes with a slight teasing tone, “Nah im kidding i was just walking along the beach it is very beautiful” he says as he grabs his hat and places it on his head. Who does that? He looks so beautiful like that.

“Ohh nice nice, I mean I haven’t really left the bar because I’ve just been alone” I look at him as he lets out a stiff laugh at my comment.

“I might go down to the beach again though.. you should come with me” Hamzah suggests as he puts his pointer finger on my shoulder acting like he just changed the way the world moved.

————————————————————————

2:30pm

“Oh my God” I say loudly with a loud laugh as I trip on the sand for the fifth time. I fix myself up and continue to laugh as Hamzah cant seem to stop. I hit his shoulder “Its not that funny…stop” I say in between laughs. We take a deep breath and continue walking in silence just taking in the view, over time we got closer together his arm brushing against mine and our shoulders kept bumping into eachother. I feel him look down at me as he grabs my hand and puts it in his. A flush of red rises on my cheeks as I look up at him and give me a smile. “You know I was talking about you to Martin last night?” He says almost like a suggestion, he purses his lips as he waits for my response.

There was now a sudden thick tension in the air. I don’t know what it was but there was something there. I mean there always is for me anyway but now I feel like that barrier of not being able to be on him is gone.

“Yeah I do know actually” I laugh, hes pulling me away to go sit at some chairs that overlook the beach. “Mandy told me this morning” I say as we sit down. My heart is racing I mean this is the first time I have ever been alone with him.

“I told him how I think you are beautiful” I look at him and smile at his words. He gives me a smile as I watch him take in my features. “I also told him how I think you’re really cool… and funny… I was gonna say smart but that would’ve been a lie no offence” I look at him and place my hand on my chest and scoff.

“Wow im offended” I say as I roll my eyes but laugh at his comment. I look back up at him “I think you are beautiful too��.

————————————————————————

10:06pm

We are all sitting on the beach having a bonfire, Mandy and Martin keep telling some story on what happened while they went off for the day, I didn’t care I was so focused on how beautiful Hamzah looked with the fire glowing onto his face.. he looks so different in this light and im not complaining.

“Hes so beautiful” Mandy snaps her head towards me “Who is?? huh??” I look back at her “What do you mean?” She leans closer to me “you didnt say that in your head..” I widen my eyes and look at Hamzah whos running his hands through his curls, his face is flushed almost like he was happy I said it.

Me and Hamzah didn’t speak to eachother since we went for a walk together, it would’ve been awkward if we did. My feelings towards him are becoming so much more noticeable and I hate it.

————————————————————————

12:26am

Ive been sitting in the hotel room for over an hour now, I excused myself because me calling Hamzah beautiful out loud made me feel sick,but why? I said it to his face, was it the fact that I’ve now let myself feel vulnerable because I said it infront of my friends?

*knock knock knock*

Im suddenly disrupted out of my thoughts

“Hold on im coming” I say as I straighten my outfit and walk towards to door. Its Hamzah, I clear my throat as I look up at him.

“Uh hey..can we talk?” He motions towards me and lets himself inside. I shut the door behind him and follow him over to the bed.

“Look I don’t know why I said that out loud, I feel so stupid and I looked vulnerable I never meant to say it, I felt like I embarrassed you more than I did myself and I just wanted to say Im sor-”.

My word were cut off by Hamzahs soft lips attaching themselves onto mine.

“Dont”

“Worry”

“About”

“It”

He says inbetween kisses, his hand makes his way to my face, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear not breaking the kiss. This was so passionate every single second of it felt like heaven, my hands started wondering over his body landing on his chest, hot and flushed. The feeling of his chest rising and falling between every kiss was magical. My face becoming more flushed as our tongues danced together. I start pushing on his chest as a sign to stop. I look at him taking in deep breaths. No words exchanged. Just living in the moment.

————————————————————————

2:45am

Deep breaths and slight snores fill the room. My hand lays on Hamzahs chest as he sleeps away, my eyes suddenly dart over towards the door as Mandy makes her way through it…loudly and clearly drunk. She spots me and Hamzah cuddling on the only bed in the room.

“Awww so cute” she slurs as she points to the two of us. I put my finger up to my lips at an attempt to silence her as she walks closer to the side im lying on. “Im just gonna go sleep in Martins room..” She whispers in my ear. I nod her off and watch as she walks away, “Use protection Mandy!” I whisper shout as she gets closer to the door, she turns around “you too!” I chuckle to myself.

Well this is gonna be awkward when he wakes up..

————————————————————————

Tags:

[sunsbaby]

❝ birdie, where did my jacket go? ❞

⋆ dean w. x photographer .ᐟ reader

the air was crisp and cool, sam had stayed behind in the hotel—choosing to research lore instead of hanging out you and his brother. well, it wasn't really hanging out. more like investigating the scene. a metal aroma clung to the air, death loomed over your shoulders. and of course, a camera was in your grasp.

dean glanced over at you, a soft smile formed on his face as he saw the way your eyes twinkled with childlike excitement every time you got your little hands on a camera. for as long as he's known you—which hasn't been long—he's only had fond memories. no fights, only playful ones, and you've always made him feel safe. your free nature was inviting, a warmth radiated off of you; even in the cool air you were like the sun. bright and warm.

"de, i think i got something!" you shouted, even though you two were rather close.

you giddily showed him the image reflecting off of your camera, an array of sulfur almost spread out around where the body was found. the smell was overrided by the scent of blood. you were proud of your work—more importantly your photo taking skills.

"damnit, demons." dean groaned, he hated those black eyes bitches so much.

"i mean, demons aren't hard to kill–we have that demon knife for a reason." you stared at him in confusion, why was he complaining about killing demons when they were practically one of the easiest ever.

"birdie, be quiet, they're just a pain in the ass." dean muttered, rolling his eyes at you—sassy much.

"bla bla bla, 'birdie, be quiet,' bla bla.." you pouted as you stomped back to the car; dean and his attitude were starting to piss you off.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

with sam having stayed up researching just for it to end up being a demon, that meant he wanted to rest and you and dean could handle it. you still were mad he told you to be quiet, who did he think he was. so, you did what any logical person would do—steal his jacket. it was going to be a cold night anyway.

you were sat next to him in baby, you would've liked sitting in the back, but dean said it was inconvenient. in all honesty, he wanted you next to him. he hadn't noticed his leather jacket gone, instead his mind was focused on ganking that demon bitch and sending them right back to hell. your mind, however, was filled with a little you jumping around waiting to get her hands on a camera.

"are we almost there, de." you whined, voice laced with an undertone of annoyance both towards having to be in the car for so long and towards dean.

"birdie, if you ask me that one more time, i'm going to pull baby over and make you walk." he threatened, his eyes sharpened, yet somehow still soft—he could never truly be angry at you.

"geez, someones mad.." you mumbled, quiet enough to where dean wouldn't hear you, but you still felt like you did something.

his jacket emitted a smell of gun powder and whiskey, it was rather soothing. it calmed the fire raging within you towards the man in the driver's seat, it was warm and felt like he was hugging you—which you always liked being in his arms. you're surprised he hadn't noticed yet.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

killing the demon was pretty easy in your books, you did end up with a cut on your face—which could make for a gnarly scar. dean, however, wasn't happy with that.

"you could've gotten seriously hurt, y'know that, right." dean grumbled as he patched up your cheek, pressing a kiss to his fingers and then onto the bandage.

this something he'd picked up from you when you would patch up their injuries. it was now engraved into his brain to do, that and because he knows you would get sad if he didn't; that's something he never wanted to see.

"but de..i got a really cool picture!" your hands clenched onto the polaroid you managed to get of the demon's body flashing as the knife was lodged into its head—by yours truly!

"what's not cool is you getting cut up, and birdie, where did my jacket go?–i swear i grabbed it from the hotel." dean said, his eyes focused more on your face, his mind racing with hundreds of outcomes.

not once did dean ever look anywhere besides your face, the prettiest thing in his eyes. he didn't realize that all this time you were wearing it. to you it was out of spite—well it was—before you figured that there was no reason to stay mad at dean. he and sam were your safe place, and what's a safe place if your mad at it; a non safe place or something like that.

"de, i've been wearing it silly!" you giggled, the sound was music to his ears, it made his heart clench and his eyes shine.

"oh, well, looks good on you birdie." he planted a kiss to the top of your head before leaving to grab a beer, or two.

he didn't understand the feeling and emotion brewing inside him as he took in your appearance. how beautiful you looked in his jacket; not sam's. not your own. his. the one thing he did know his that he couldn't let it take over, not when your the only other person beside his brother and cas he couldn't bear to lose.

sunny yaps! WOAH! something long from sunny, its a miracle AHHHH! JUST KIDSDINGG! I LOVE YOU GUYS AND I HOPE YOU ENJOYYYYY!

special tags! @bluemerakis @figthoughts @dulcescorderitas @h8aaz @deansbeer

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ® 𓂃 do not repost or copy my works without permission!!

[thereoncewasagirlnamedjane]

WHAT’S IN A NAME?

PAIRING — tangerine x f!reader

CONTENTS — drabble; blind dates; tan’s a bit of a dick here; but so’s our reader; blood and implied violence; coarse language; reader is horny, okay? and i’m not sorry; one (1) brief reference to hate sex.

SUMMARY — your blind date is a walking red flag (he’s literally covered in blood), but you’re going through a dry spell and god damn it if he’s not the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

WORD COUNT — 958

NOTES — please excuse me, i am just obsessed with aaron taylor-johnson lately and i am in such a mood this friday night 😩 also, idk if i’ll write more for this guy solely because his codename is so damn dumb lmao! but i guess never say never 🤭

✩ masterlist ✩ a. taylor-johnson characters m.list ✩ library blog

This is the last time you ever say yes to a blind date, even if it has been ages since you were properly and thoroughly laid. Where the hell did your friend even find this guy?

The man sitting across from you in this quiet little cafe is certainly handsome—and definitely overdressed in his expensive-looking three piece suit that compliments the colour of his eyes… well, what’s left of the thing anyway… his jacket looks almost to be in tatters—but he’s all cagey and jittery. His eyes keep darting around the place, and he hasn’t made full eye contact with you once.

He didn’t even introduce himself when he arrived (nearly half an hour late), just slid into the seat on the other side of the table, draping his checkered coat over the back of the chair.

“Wanna tell me why you’re covered in blood?” You ask, arms folded over your chest. The tea you’d ordered for him has gone cold long ago, but he still lifts the cup by the handle and takes a careful sip. He grimaces, but shakes his head.

“You don’t wanna know, luv,” he says, signalling the barista to make him a fresh cup. You want to bury your fingers in his dishevelled hair and yank. At the unimpressed look on your face, he tuts and practically barks, “What? I should say that I came here straight after killin’ some poor bloke, then?”

“Fucking hell, you killed a guy?” You scoff, taking in the blood splattered all over his shirt and smeared on his skin. Some of it is his, you note, but he doesn’t seem phased—nor does anyone else as the barista comes around with a new steaming hot cup of tea. She casually places it on the table before walking away without another glance at either of you.

“No, darling,” he snarks, so condescendingly sarcastic you want to splash that tea right into his pretty face. He gestures to his crimson-stained collar, which lies open enough to give you a good view of his smooth upper chest, “I’m tryin’ to start a new trend. You think the designers will go for it?”

“Figures. Out of all the men I could’ve been set up with, I get set up with a murderer.” But that doesn’t stop you from wondering how that moustache would tickle if you kissed him. Or if he kissed you… in more unorthodox places.

“And yet you’re still fuckin’ sitting here, sweetheart,” he rolls his eyes, sighing when he takes a sip of his warm beverage before mumbling, “Mm, that’s more like it.”

“What’s your name then?” You huff, lifting your latte to your mouth, needing to do something to stop you from actually biting your lip, to calm the fire raging inside you. A fire that can surely only be extinguished by sinking your teeth into his neck—

“Well,” he seems to hesitate a bit here, “people call me Tangerine.”

“Tangerine?” You sneer, slamming your coffee cup back down onto its saucer with a loud clank, your latte sloshing over the rim and spilling onto the table. “Okay, that’s fucking ridiculous. I’m not calling you that.”

“Aw, come on, luv,” he tuts again in disapproval, grabbing some napkins from a nearby dispenser and wiping up the spill, muttering sarcastically about your lack of table manners. The sight of those clunky rings on his long, thick fingers makes you shiver. “Also, that’s bloody rude. Are you actually surprised you’re single?”

That’s the final straw, you can practically hear the camel’s back snapping. You stand up abruptly, the legs of your chair screeching loudly against the linoleum.

The guy finally looks right at you, cocking an eyebrow.

“Giant waste of time. Not gonna sit here and make small talk when we both know this isn’t going to work out,” you practically growl, winding your scarf around your neck and grabbing your coat. “Where’d you grow up? How many siblings do you have? Ugh, barf. I’d rather you fucking kill me.”

“I have a brother,” he offers casually, leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, really?” You ask, not believing him for a second as you grab your purse and loop your arm through the strap. “And what’s his name, Clementine?”

His neatly trimmed moustache twitches, one side of his mouth quirking up into something resembling a smile.

“We call him Lemon, actually,” he smirks as he pulls out a vibrating phone from his pocket. “Speaking of—” he presses the phone to his ear, “Lemme call you back.” Pause. “Tsk, sod off! I’m on a fuckin’ date, bruv. The job’s done, I can do whatever I want with my free time.”

Shit. You curse mentally at that smirk, both taunting and delicious in the worst ways possible, wondering why you haven’t marched out of the cafe yet. On top of everything, the moustached fucker takes a phone call from his brother, who is named Lemon, in the middle of you telling him off?

“Eh, she’s got a bit of a temper, to be honest.” And as a matter of fact, you’re about to blow a god damn gasket, but then his eyes slide to yours. His smirk widens. “But Jesus, Lem—”

You shake your head. No, don’t do it, you bastard. His eyes are positively gleaming.

“—why do I find it hot as hell?”

Damn it.

Yep, you heave a mental sigh. You’re totally gonna fuck him.

And the son of a bitch gives it to you so damn good, you only feel partly silly for repeatedly calling out the name “Tangerine” in the throes of heated bliss.

You make a mental note to send Beetle a thank-you care package. Y’know, later. When you can feel your legs again.

fin.

© 2025 by thereoncewasagirlnamedjane. do not repost, translate, or copy to third party sites. no part of this work may be fed into any AI software or websites. minors are asked not to interact with my blog; you are responsible for your own media consumption. followers with zero engagement, serial likers, and blank/ageless blogs will be blocked.

[tikosblogg]

Who Am I? Chapter 2

Warnings: smut (not with Noah), the sex is consensual but she’s not really into it. Idk don’t read it if that bothers you.

A/N: sorry it’s short 😭 it’s so hard to find time to write cuz of my job. I hope you still enjoy tho🥲❤️

Not long after the awkward interaction , we walked back out, and watched bad omens take the stage. “I gotta make a call, don’t run off.” Ryan leaned down, leaving a rough kiss to my lips, making me scowl before walking away.

Nothing about ryan was ever gentle. It was so irritating. I found a spot with a clear view of the stage, so I could watch the set. Finally getting to watch them in person was a dream of mine, and I’ll be damned to let anything ruin it.

The bass vibrated through my feet, a primal thrum that resonated with the energy of the crowd. They were owning the stage, having had me as well as the crowd mesmerized. Noah was a force of nature.

He worked the stage, his voice growling with intensity. I stood on the side, nodding along to "Dethrone," softly mouthing the lyrics. I’ve been a fan for years, their music a deep comfort. Especially with my unfortunate shitty upbringing. Ryan, didn’t quite understand my obsession. He hardly likes my own music. 

I started cheering with the rest of the crowd. As they moved on to the their next song. During the intro to "The Grey," Noah’s gaze swept across the stage, landing on me. For a fleeting moment, our eyes locked. And then he smiled, before continuing his strut across the stage.

My stomach twisted. It was just a smile, a simple sign of acknowledgement. But it made me feel strange. I tore my gaze away, my body buzzing, just as Ryan’s hand grabbed mine. “Let’s go,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

He didn’t wait for a response, yanking me away and down the narrow hallway. The music faded, replaced by the pounding of my own heart. He steered me towards the bathroom I’d used earlier, the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway doing nothing to soften his expression.

He slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the small space. He shoved me against the cold, tiled wall, the impact stealing my breath. “What the fuck was that?” he demanded, his eyes blazing. I rolled my eyes, at his rough hostility. Nothing new. “Nothing, what the hell is your problem?” I mumbled, completely exhausted from his constant outbursts.

“Don’t lie to me, Alice,” he sneered. “I saw him looking at you. I saw how close you two were earlier too. What the fuck was that about?” His accusation hung in the air, thick and suffocating. I wanted to explain, to tell him it was nothing, a moment of shared appreciation for the music. But it didn’t matter. It never did. 

He made a disgusted sound, his eyes raking over me with a possessiveness that felt more like ownership. Then, before I could react, he surged forward, his mouth crashing down on mine. There was nothing gentle or loving about it, not like the soft touches I always craved. It was a brutal claiming, a desperate attempt to reassert his control.

His lips were hard, his teeth nipping at me, bruising and demanding. I tasted anger and insecurity. I kissed back anyways, for my sake. I haven’t been touched in months, and I can’t handle his shitty attitude anymore tonight.  

He pulled away yanking me from the wall, and shoving me against the counter. His movements were rough, and my heart began to race.

Without a word, he wasted no time ripping my shorts and fishnets down my thighs. I gasped at the material burning against my skin, but before I could speak, he had already shoved himself deep inside me.

His thrusts were rough and primal, I couldn’t do anything but hold on for dear life. I finally relaxed around him, feeling myself get wetter. I moaned as he filled me up over and over, his dick hitting that perfect spot. His hand reached around, large fingers gripping my throat.

He pulled my head back to look at him through the mirror. “Whose fucking pussy is this?” He growled, his hips slapping against my ass harder. I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, as he squeezed tighter. “Y-yours.” I groaned, as he released my throat. “That’s fucking right. Don’t forget it.”

Just as I was about to tip over the edge, he thrusted into me one last time, before pulling out. “What the fu-“ my words were cut short as he grabbed my hair, forcing me down to my knees. He angled my face up towards him, as he pumped himself a few times releasing on my face.

When he was finally finished, he let go of my hair tucking himself back into his pants. He grabbed a few paper towels out of the dispenser before shoving them into my hands. I looked up at him, my eyes filled with anger. It’s not usual for him to get off, and leave me hanging, but this wasn’t for my pleasure, it was a punishment.

He kneeled down so we were face to face before speaking. “Don’t forget your fucking place Alice. I have no problem reminding you.” Our faces were only inches apart. His eyes bore into mine, dark and unyielding.

I was rendered mute by a cocktail of anger and frustration. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, the pulse of fury echoing in my ears. How had it come to this? A man I once considered a partner, someone who stood by my side during the highs and lows of my fucked up life, was now threatening me like I was some kind of errant child.

When he stood back up, the air shifted. I watched him walk toward the door. He paused and turned, his gaze lingering on me. “Clean yourself up,” he ordered. “We leave in 20.” And then he was gone.

I stood up on shaky legs pulling my shorts and fishnets back up my thighs.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked like a wreck..smudged makeup, sticky face, disheveled hair. Hurt turned to anger as I turned the sink on, letting the water run until it was cold against my skin.

I grabbed some soap, scrubbing at my face, my reflection a blur of black washing away.

My makeup melted down my cheeks. The sound of water splashing filled the silence, but it couldn’t drown out the humiliation that wrapped itself around me like a shroud.

“What are you doing?” I whispered to myself, the echo of my voice bouncing back from the grimy tiles. I had fought so hard to carve out my place in the music scene..hell even in the world itself. This night had been a victory, the crowd was phenomenal, the lights were bright. But here I was, in this wretched bathroom, my feeling of happiness tainted by Ryan’s shitty attitude.

Once I finished washing my face, I reached for more paper towels. I dried my skin, the rough texture of the paper a stark reminder of the harsh reality I was living. My hands trembled slightly as I tossed the damp towels into the trash bin. I took a deep breath, trying to gather the shreds of my shattered confidence.

What was it about Ryan that had enamored me so completely? He was charming, charismatic, a refreshing aura of energy that had swept me off my feet. But all that had morphed into something darker, a controlling asshole that stifled my spirit. Just like my parents.

I just stared at myself. Anger, and exhaustion flickering in my eyes. I wasn’t a victim, not anymore. This is my life. I have fought tooth and nail for every stage I had performed on, every audience that had cheered my name. When will he realize that.

I took one last glance at myself in the mirror, and turned off the sink, and stepped out of the bathroom, my heart pounding in my chest.

The stale cigarette smoke curled around my face, as I watched Jett wrestle our amp into the back of the van. Ben was meticulously coiling cables, his brow furrowed in concentration, while Ryan, ever the asshole, directed their efforts with a clipped tone. The air hung thick with the dust and sweat of the festival. "Need a hand, Alice?" Ben asked, glancing up from his tangled mess of wires.

"Nah, you guys got it," I replied, taking another drag, a smile tugged at my lips. We killed it tonight. We felt like we were finally breaking through, the energy from the crowd was undeniable.

Suddenly a voice cut through the air. 

"Hey!"

I turned, along with the rest of the guys, and saw Noah, walking  towards us. A tall, lanky dude with long hair, trailed behind him. Jolly. They’re a huge, influence to us and our band, and seeing them in the flesh, and actually playing alongside them still gave me a little jolt of excitement.

Noah grinned, and greeted everyone with a friendly nod."I really liked that solo you did." He fist bumped Jett, and gave Ben a nod, "your drum fill was sick. You guys did amazing." Then, his eyes locked on mine.

I smiled, dropping my cigarette and stomping it out. "Thanks, You guys too."

"Appreciate that," Noah grinned. He paused, before looking to jolly, and back to us. "So, look, we're having a little after-party type thing up on the rooftop of our hotel. Just something chill. We wanted to extend the invite." He rattled off the name of some fancy hotel downtown.

My eyes immediately darted to Jett and Ben. Their faces were lit up like Christmas trees. We’d been grinding for years, sleeping in cramped vans, eating gas station food, and dreaming of moments like this of being welcomed into the inner circle. This felt like validation, a sign that we were finally being recognized.

I opened my mouth to accept, already imagining the good time we’d have hanging out with THE Bad Omens, but Ryan's voice, sharp and dismissive, cut me off.

"We're good. We have shit to do tomorrow."

The air instantly thickened. The excited buzz from Jett and Ben evaporated. My own elation fizzled, replaced by a familiar sense of frustration and resentment.

Noah's smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. "No worries, man. Just thought I'd offer. Maybe next time."

He nodded at Ryan, then gave me one last, look before turning away, Jolly shuffling awkwardly behind him.

They disappeared into the throng of leaving festival goers, an uncomfortable silence settled over us.

"Seriously, Ryan?" I turned towards him, my voice tight with annoyance. "What the fuck?"

He turned to me, his expression unreadable. "I’m fucking tired Alice, and I have shit to do other than babysit your drunk ass all night.”

"One drink wouldn't kill us," Jett mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"Yeah, Ryan. We could have networked," Ben added, equally subdued.

Ryan rounded on them, his voice rising in pitch. "Networked? You think schmoozing or fucking rockstars is going to get us a better record deal?" His eyes cut to me with that last statement, and I couldn’t stop the scoff leaving my lips. He’s fucking mental. 

I stepped forward, my fists clenching. "It's not fucking like that Ryan and you know it! It feels like we're finally being accepted. We busted our asses tonight! We deserve to celebrate! We deserved that moment".

"Yeah well I’m your fucking manager, and what I say goes."

I’d had enough. “And I’m your girlfriend! Do you ever think about what I want?”

"I don’t give a shit Alice! I'm doing what’s best for the band!," Ryan retorted, his voice laced with exasperation. "Do you know what kind of people are at these parties; those guys are bad fucking news, I know it!"

"Doing what’s best? By doing what? Keeping us from having a good time? From making connections? From being treated like real artists instead of nobodies?" I spat, my voice trembling with anger. "You're not doing what’s best for us, Ryan. You're just fucking controlling.”

The stale hotel air hung heavy, thick with the ghost of previous occupants and cheap disinfectant. I tossed my bag onto the ridiculously floral comforter, the zipper screaming in protest as I wrestled out my pajamas. My muscles ached, a delightful reminder of the amazing set we played. 

But now, that high was plummeting, dragged down by the ever present weight of Ryan “forbidding” us from going to the after party Noah had invited us to. With some bullshit excuse. As if being a woman in rock wasn't hard enough, I had to constantly fight to be seen.

I glanced over at him as he heaved his bag onto the bed. He was already heading for the bathroom, the door clicking shut. 

I flopped onto the bed, grabbing my phone and mindlessly scrolling through Instagram. The feed was ablaze with posts from the festival. People were talking about our set, praising my vocals, complimenting Jett’s insane guitar riffs, and even acknowledging Ben’s solid drumming. A warm feeling spread through me, a sense of validation that Ryan rarely offered.

30 minutes later, the bathroom door swung open. My fingers froze on the screen. Ryan stood framed in the doorway, but it wasn't what I was expecting. He was dressed in black jeans and a tailored leather jacket. His hair, usually casually tousled, was meticulously styled. He looked like he was about to step onto a movie set, not into bed for the night. 

My stomach clenched. A cold knot of unease tightened in my chest.

"Where the hell are you going?" The question burst out before I could filter it, laced with a bitterness I couldn't quite suppress.

Ryan rolled his eyes, the dismissive gesture slicing through me more sharply than he probably intended. He patted his pockets, checking for his phone and wallet. "I’m meeting someone important."

The words were like a slap in the face. "You tell us that we can’t go to a small after-party to celebrate our show tonight, but you’re gonna run around town to meet with someone 'important'?" My voice rose with each word, frustration bubbling to the surface.

He sighed, as if I were a particularly annoying child. He turned towards the door, his back to me. "I don’t have to explain anything to you. I know what’s best for us, and that’s that."

“Seriously?" I scoffed, sarcasm dripping from my words. I pushed myself off the bed, my bare feet slapping against the carpet. "Or best for you, Because it sure as hell feels like those are two very different things these days."

The air crackled with tension as he finally turned back to me, stalking towards me until we were almost chest to chest. His eyes were cold, hard chips of ice. "I said I don’t have to explain shit to you. Now go the fuck to bed. I’ll be back in a couple hours."

He stood there, radiating an aura of control and dominance that I hated, that I was starting to resent more with each passing day. The familiar fear pricked at the edges of my anger. I wanted to scream, to lash out, but something held me back. Years of conditioning, of being told to be quiet, to be agreeable, to not make a scene.

I shook my head slowly, disbelief warring with hurt. "Who are you meeting that's so fucking important?" The question hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken accusations.

His jaw tightened. "I told you. It's none of your business."

Without another word, he turned and walked out, the door slamming shut behind him with a resounding thud.

For a long moment, I just stood there, frozen in place, the silence amplifying the hum of the air conditioner. The anger, simmering beneath the surface for months, finally boiled over.

Fuck that.

I grabbed my phone, my fingers flying across the screen.

Me: get your asses ready. We're going to that after-party. Meet me in the lobby in 20.

I didn't wait for a response. I ripped open my bag again, pulling out a pair of ripped black jeans, a vintage band tee, and my leather jacket. Adrenaline surged through me, washing away the fatigue and replacing it with a fierce sense of defiance.

I stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. The hot water pounded against my skin, cleansing not just the sweat and grime of the day, but also the lingering feeling of being controlled, of being diminished.

As I dressed, my mind raced. Who was Ryan meeting? I didn’t have the answer, not yet. But I knew one thing for sure: I wasn't going to let him dictate my life anymore. I had a voice, a talent, and the right to make my own choices.

I glanced at myself in the mirror, my reflection staring back with newfound determination. My eyes, usually soft and yielding, were now hard and bright.

This wasn't just about an after-party. It was about taking back control. It was about reclaiming my own power.

I grabbed my phone and headed out, leaving the oppressive atmosphere of the hotel room behind and walked towards the lobby.

Jett and Ben were already waiting, grinning like mischievously.

"Took you long enough," Jett said, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "Ready to party?"

"Born ready," I replied, a smile spreading across my face.

Taglist- @lacy1986 @theanarchymuse95 @lyschko666 @rumoured-whispers @pathion @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @chey-h @dontwantthemoney @lilsugacubeot7

[keisgirl]

2.0 ; miya atsumu

pairing; atsumu miya x reader

wc; 5k

is being miya atsumus clone the best thing in the world, or will she find a way to carve out her own identity on the volleyball court?

you grew up with the miya twins, tangled in the mess of their rivalry and camaraderie, always in the middle, always keeping up.

they called you the girl version of atsumu, from the moment you first stepped onto the court. same position, same drive, same reckless grin when you won. number seven stitched onto your back like it was meant to be there. you were quick, sharp, loud-mouthed, just like him.

and they never let you forget it.

"oi, girl-tsumu," atsumu would call, slinging an arm around your shoulders. "yer servin’s slippin’. ya gonna let me take the crown this year?"

"dream on, miya," you'd shoot back, flicking his forehead hard enough to make him whine. osamu would snicker, always watching the two of you go back and forth, never stepping in—just there to witness the chaos.

as kids, it was fun. as kids, it felt like being part of something bigger than yourself, like belonging. you bleached your hair when he did, let the color burn your scalp just to prove you could. you matched him beat for beat, dive for dive, living in the shadow he never meant to cast but did anyway.

but then you grew up. and suddenly, it wasn’t as fun anymore.

because when atsumu got praised, you got compared. when atsumu won, you were just second place, the girl version of him, as if you weren’t your own person. the name ‘miya’ carried weight, and even though it wasn’t yours, they tied it to you like a leash. you thought you could be his equal, but all they saw was an echo.

“yer too sensitive,” atsumu says one day, after you snap at a teammate for calling you ‘atsumu with a ponytail.’

your hands curl into fists, nails digging into your palms. “maybe yer too blind.”

atsumu blinks. “huh?”

“yer too blind to see that i ain’t you.”

the words hang in the air between you, sharp and cutting. you see the moment he realizes, the moment he pieces together every forced smile, every tense laugh, every time you swallowed down the bitter taste of second place.

his mouth opens, but you don’t wait to hear whatever he has to say. you just turn and walk away, wondering if you’ll ever stop being a reflection.

suddenly, you don’t play volleyball anymore.

suddenly, you’re not inarzaki’s genius girl setter.

suddenly, you have black hair.

suddenly, you don’t feel like yourself.

suddenly, you don’t talk in class.

suddenly, you’re first in grades, not in physical education.

suddenly, the girl who used to be on the court screaming at her teammates is now the one sitting in the back of the classroom, silent, unnoticed.

and people start to notice.

your teachers hesitate before calling your name, expecting the loud, confident voice that used to answer so easily. your classmates steal glances at you when tests get handed back, murmuring about how you’ve replaced your talent for setting with perfect grades. the volleyball team stares at the empty space on the court where you used to stand, the absence of your presence a hole they can’t seem to fill.

osamu, usually unbothered by everything, nudges atsumu one afternoon. “ya talk to her lately?”

atsumu scoffs, crossing his arms. “she’s the one avoidin’ me.”

“yeah?” osamu raises an eyebrow. “or maybe ya just never noticed how much she hated bein’ ya shadow.”

atsumu doesn’t have a comeback for that. because deep down, he knows. he just never thought you’d actually leave. never thought you’d change so much, that the fire in your eyes would be replaced with something distant, unreachable.

so one day, he corners you after school, standing in front of your desk before you can escape.

“what the hell’s goin’ on with ya?” he demands.

you don’t look up from your notebook. “nothin’.”

“bullshit,” he huffs, grabbing your pen and tossing it onto the desk. “ya dyed yer hair, quit the team, don’t even look at me no more—how the hell is that nothin’?”

you sigh, finally meeting his gaze. there’s something tired in your expression, something he’s never seen before. “it ain’t sudden, ‘tsumu.”

and that’s what scares him the most. because if it wasn’t sudden, then that means it was happening all along. and he just never saw it.

“i left alive, but at the same time, i felt like atsumu miya, ya know?” you murmur, voice quieter than he’s ever heard it. “like i wasn’t myself. i was just... you.”

atsumu stiffens, his breath catching.

“besides,” you continue, leaning back in your chair, staring at the ceiling. “the girls’ volleyball team can manage just fine. it’s not like we ever made it to spring high anyway.”

third year. the last year.

atsumu feels the weight of your words settle deep in his chest. there’s something final about them, something irreversible. and for the first time in his life, he doesn’t know how to fix it.

atsumu tries to ignore it at first.

he tries to act like nothing’s changed, like you’re still the same person who used to stand shoulder to shoulder with him, the one who used to bicker with him over who had the better toss, who used to swear up and down that one day, you’d be the setter people remembered most from inarizaki.

but he can’t ignore it. not when you won’t even look at him, not when every interaction between you now feels like he’s talking to a stranger.

he watches from the court, gaze flicking to the empty space on the benches where you used to sit. back when you stayed after practice even if you didn’t have to, back when you’d drill him on his serves and let him rant about whatever was on his mind. back when he never had to think twice about where you’d be—because you were always there.

except now you aren’t.

he lasts a month before he finally snaps. before he marches into your classroom after school, ignoring the way your classmates whisper as he looms over your desk.

“we’re talkin’. now.”

“no, we’re not.”

atsumu’s jaw clenches. “yer bein’ real difficult, ya know that?”

“not my problem.”

his patience wears thin. “what the hell happened to ya?”

you exhale through your nose, flipping a page in your notebook like he isn’t standing there, like he isn’t practically shaking with frustration. “i grew up, atsumu. maybe ya should try it sometime.”

“bullshit,” he hisses. “growing up don’t mean abandoning everything ya cared about. ya loved volleyball.”

“yeah? well, maybe it didn’t love me back.”

that shuts him up. because he doesn’t know what to say to that—doesn’t know how to argue against something so heavy, so full of something he doesn’t understand.

his fists tighten at his sides. “ya really just gonna throw it all away?”

“what’s left to throw away?” you mutter, finally looking up at him. and there’s something in your eyes, something hollow and tired and so unlike you that it makes his stomach twist. “i was never really playin’ for myself anyway.”

he swallows hard. “that ain’t true.”

but you only shake your head, gathering your things before standing, brushing past him like he’s not even there.

“if it ain’t, then why did it feel like i had to disappear to be seen?”

and atsumu has no answer for that either.

“ya got it bad,” osamu remarks one afternoon, watching atsumu glare at his untouched lunch.

atsumu scoffs, stabbing his chopsticks into his rice. “shut up.”

“yer miserable,” osamu continues, undeterred. “and ya know why.”

atsumu doesn’t respond, just shoves a bite of food into his mouth like that’ll stop his brother from talking. it doesn’t.

“always hoverin’ around her, always lookin’ like a kicked puppy when she ignores ya.” osamu shakes his head, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “if ya ask me, it’s kinda obvious.”

atsumu scowls. “nothin’s obvious.”

“except that ya like her.”

he nearly chokes on his food. “what?!”

osamu raises an eyebrow, entirely unimpressed. “oh, come on. ‘tsumu, ya been in love with her since we were kids.”

“yer talkin’ shit.”

“am i?” osamu leans back, arms crossed. “then why does it bother ya so much that she’s not playin’ anymore? why can’t ya let it go?”

atsumu opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. because as much as he wants to deny it, the truth is sitting right there, laughing in his face.

he’s spent years trying to outrun it, masking it with teasing and rivalry, with stupid fights and mindless competition. but now that she’s gone—now that she’s slipping further and further away—he realizes that osamu’s right.

he’s always been in love with you.

he finds you after school, waiting outside the gates, hands shoved into his pockets like it’s just another day.

“what now, atsumu?” you sigh, stopping in front of him.

he exhales sharply, staring at you like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle he should’ve figured out years ago. “yer right,” he says finally. “i never saw it.”

you blink, caught off guard. “saw what?”

“that i was losin’ ya,” he admits, voice quieter than usual. “that ya weren’t just my reflection. that ya were yer own person this whole time.”

there’s something vulnerable in his face, something raw, and it makes your chest ache in a way you don’t want to acknowledge.

“i don’t want ya to disappear,” he continues. “not from volleyball, not from me.”

you hesitate, searching his expression for any sign of insincerity, but all you find is honesty. and maybe a little desperation.

“i dunno if i can go back to the way things were,” you murmur.

atsumu nods. “then let’s make somethin’ new.”

he’s close now, closer than he’s ever been, and suddenly, you’re not just thinking about volleyball, about rivalry, about anything other than the fact that atsumu miya is looking at you like you’re the only person in the world.

“i mean it,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t want ya to just be the girl version of me. i want ya to be my girl.”

your heart stumbles in your chest, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you’re standing in his shadow. you feel like you’re standing beside him.

and this time, you let yourself smile.

atsumu had already confessed.

it had been awkward and kind of messy, because he’s atsumu and of course it was, but it was real. undeniable. a moment so big and sudden that it left you standing at a crossroads with no map, no clear direction except the weight of his words anchoring you to the present.

so you said yes.

not just to him, but to volleyball. to trying again.

except trying again means stepping back into a world that’s always seen you as someone else’s shadow. and no matter how much you want to believe that things will be different this time, it’s hard not to slip back into old habits.

“damn, ya even move like him.”

it’s a passing comment from a teammate, said with no real bite, but it still sticks. the way it always does. the way it always has.

you shake it off, try to ignore it, but the more you play, the more you notice it too. the way your hands twitch into the same mannerisms, the way you call plays with the same sharp confidence, the way your presence on the court starts to feel less like yours and more like his.

and maybe that wouldn’t bother you so much if you hadn’t fought so hard to be something else.

“what’s goin’ on with ya?” atsumu asks one day, watching as you linger in the gym long after practice has ended.

you don’t turn to face him. “nothin’.”

“bullshit.”

his footsteps echo against the polished floors, stopping just behind you. you know he’s waiting for you to talk, but you don’t know what to say, don’t know how to explain the creeping feeling of losing yourself all over again.

“i just…” you exhale, gripping the ball in your hands. “it’s stupid.”

“it’s not.”

he says it so easily, so confidently, like it’s a fact. and that alone makes something tighten in your chest.

“everyone still sees me as your copy,” you admit finally. “i don’t know how to play without fallin’ back into it.”

atsumu is quiet for a moment, and then, gently, he reaches out, fingers curling around your wrist, thumb brushing against your pulse.

“then stop tryin’ to be different from me,” he murmurs. “just play like you.”

your breath catches.

because you never thought of it that way before. you’d spent so much time trying to prove that you weren’t just another miya atsumu that you forgot to figure out who you actually were.

“easier said than done,” you mutter, but there’s no real bite to it.

he grins. “yeah, well, lucky for ya, i happen to be an expert at bein’ myself.”

it’s stupid. it’s so stupid. but it makes you laugh anyway, and when he leans in to steal a kiss, you let him, because for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you’re drowning in someone else’s reflection.

you feel like you.

playing like yourself, as it turns out, is just playing like him.

but that’s okay, you think. because this time, you’re not fighting against it—you’re making it your own.

and maybe that’s why, for the first time in inarizaki’s history, both the boys’ and girls’ teams qualify for spring high.

It happened fast. one practice game, then another, and suddenly, the tickets are in your hands, the realization sinking in. you’re going to spring high. and apparently, word has spread fast enough that university scouts are interested in watching you play.

but that’s a thought for another time.

because right now, you’re in a gym, tying your freshly bleached hair back into a ponytail, watching as atsumu scowls at you like you personally offended him.

“what?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

he gestures vaguely at your head. “yer tryin’ to steal my look.”

“please,” you scoff. “if anything, i pull it off better.”

“ya wish.”

“i know.”

before he can throw a comeback, osamu saunters over, phone in hand, suna right behind him.

“oi, oi,” suna muses, tilting his head as he looks between you and atsumu. “this is gettin’ kinda creepy.”

osamu hums, nodding. “y’know, we always joked about ya bein’ the girl version of ‘tsumu, but now? now yer just his clone.”

“take a picture,” suna says, already pulling his own phone out. “this moment deserves to be remembered.”

“yer both the worst,” atsumu grumbles, but he doesn’t move away, and neither do you.

because as much as you roll your eyes, as much as you pretend to be annoyed, there’s something warm about the way osamu adjusts the camera angle, about the way suna snickers under his breath before snapping the photo.

it’s a moment that feels like childhood and the future all at once—like proof that, no matter what happens, you’ll always have this. always have them.

spring high awaits, but for now, you let yourself enjoy this. let yourself smile as suna shoves the phone in your face, as atsumu ruffles your hair, as osamu mutters something about how he’ll use this to embarrass you both later.

it’s stupid. it’s so stupid.

but it’s yours.

spring high is everything you expected and nothing like you imagined.

the energy is electric, the anticipation thrumming under your skin as you step onto the court. it’s bigger than anything you’ve ever played in before, and yet, it doesn’t scare you. not this time.

maybe because you know you belong here. maybe because, when you glance at the boys' court in the other venue, you know he’s there too.

it’s funny. for so long, you hated being compared to atsumu. hated the way people called you his copy, his shadow. but now? now you don’t care. because you’re not his copy—you’re his equal.

but not everyone sees it that way.

on the way to the restroom before your next match, you overhear them—two university scouts talking in hushed voices.

“she plays just like miya atsumu,” one says, almost amused.

something tight coils in your chest, the words digging under your skin, itching like an old wound. but before you can turn away, the other scout hums thoughtfully.

“or maybe,” they say, “miya atsumu plays just like her.”

that gives you pause. because for the first time, it isn’t a comparison meant to diminish you. it’s a statement that acknowledges you—your skill, your presence, your worth.

and suddenly, the tension melts away, replaced with something lighter, something almost giddy.

you hold onto that feeling as you return to the court, and later, when you catch atsumu during a break between matches, you can’t help but tell him about it.

“guess what i heard?” you start, rocking back on your heels as he tilts his head at you.

“somethin’ dumb, probably,” he says, deadpan.

“nah,” you grin. “somethin’ real nice, actually.”

you pause for effect, then smirk. “some scouts said i play just like miya atsumu.”

he scoffs. “duh.”

“but,” you add, savoring the moment, “the other scout said maybe miya atsumu plays just like me.”

that makes him pause. his brows lift slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching up as he considers your words. then, after a beat, he huffs a laugh, reaching out to ruffle your hair.

“‘bout time someone got it right.”

when you step onto the court again, you play the way you always have—with precision, with instinct, with a fire that matches his in every way. you don’t have to fight against it anymore, don’t have to deny the way your movements sync up, the way your presence commands the game just like his does.

it’s a hard game. the best teams in the country are here for a reason. but you push through, setting perfect balls, making impossible saves, throwing yourself into every point like it’s the last one you’ll ever play.

and then you win. not the whole tournament—not yet—but the match, the one that guarantees you another game, another chance to keep going.

when you walk off the court, chest heaving, jersey damp with sweat, there’s someone waiting for you near the sidelines.

“ya looked good out there,” atsumu says, arms crossed, a stupid grin on his face.

“you too,” you reply, shoving his shoulder as you walk past.

but he catches your wrist, spinning you back around before you can go. there’s something in his eyes, something different. something you’re still getting used to.

“yer the real deal,” he says, softer this time. “not just ‘cause ya play like me. ‘cause ya play like you.”

your heart stumbles in your chest, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you in this massive stadium, the rest of the world fading away.

then he grins again, tugging you closer, voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “but i gotta admit, we do look good together.”

“oh my god,” you groan, yanking your wrist free. “don’t make me regret bleachin’ my hair.”

he laughs, easy and warm, and when you walk away, you don’t have to look back to know he’s still watching.

because this time, you’re not walking alone.

nevermind, spring high is chaos.

it’s sweat and exhaustion, adrenaline and pressure, the deafening sound of the crowd screaming for a win. it’s the last chance for third-years. it’s everything and nothing at once.

the boys’ team blazes through their matches, tearing down opponents like it’s their only purpose, and you do the same. for the first time in your life, you’re not just keeping up with atsumu—you’re standing beside him, in your own court, your own battlefield, chasing the same dream.

but dreams don’t always end the way you want them to.

it happens fast. the boys make it to the finals, just like everyone expected them to. but across the net is karasuno. an unpredictable team, a team that shouldn’t have even made it this far, a team that plays with something reckless and untamed in their veins.

it’s a war. point for point, neither side gives in. atsumu is sharper than ever, his sets perfect, his serves cutting through the air like a weapon. you winced when his set was a bit off then sighed when osamu reached it. but on the other side, there’s hinata. and kageyama. and something about them just doesn’t break.

and then, just like that, it’s over.

inarizaki loses.

for a moment, there’s only silence. then the reality crashes down, the weight of it pressing against their shoulders. suna looks pissed but resigned. osamu looks torn between frustration and acceptance. and atsumu—

atsumu is staring at the scoreboard, jaw clenched, hands in fists, like he’s trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping through his fingers.

you don’t say anything, don’t try to tell him it’s okay, because you know it isn’t. so instead, you wait until the crowd thins, until the interviews and formalities are over, until he’s finally sitting in the hallway outside the locker room, staring at the floor.

“it wasn’t enough,” he mutters when you sit beside him.

“it never is,” you say.

he laughs, but it’s hollow. “yer not gonna tell me we did great?”

“nah,” you lean back against the wall. “you wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

he exhales, sharp and tired, then turns his head to look at you. you meet his gaze, steady and knowing, because you’ve both lost before. you’ve both fought for something and had it slip through your fingers. you know what it feels like.

but you also know that this isn’t the end. not for him. not for you. not for any of you.

“yer up next,” he finally says, nodding towards the girls’ side of the tournament. “ya better win.”

“duh.”

and maybe that’s enough. for now.

because even in the aftermath of loss, there’s still the next game. still the next step. still the future waiting for both of you.

and you’ll be ready.

when you step onto the court for the semifinals, the crowd stirs. whispers ripple through the stands.

“number seven…? looks exactly like that number seven on the boys’ team.”

“they play the same too, don’t they?”

“no, she’s sharper, her feints are cleaner.”

“nah, atsumu’s serves are better.”

“but she’s fast. like—really fast.”

you hear it all. you always have. but this time, it doesn’t weigh as heavy. this time, when you glance towards the stands, atsumu’s sitting there with his arms crossed, a smirk on his face like he already knows you’re about to shut them all up.

and you do.

by the time the match is over, there’s no more comparisons. no more questions. you make sure of it.

you blaze through sets, direct plays with the precision only someone like you can manage. the semifinals are grueling, the longest, most exhausting game you’ve ever played. your body aches, your lungs burn, but you don’t stop—because this is your last year. your last chance. and you won’t let it slip away.

when the final whistle blows, you don’t even register it for a second. you’re staring at the scoreboard, at the impossible score, at the realization hitting you like a tidal wave.

inarizaki’s girls’ team made it to the finals.

before you know it, you’re being tackled, arms wrapping around you, voices screaming in your ears. your teammates are crying, laughing, shaking with disbelief. and when you finally glance towards the stands, atsumu is on his feet, cheering louder than anyone else.

“she’s good.”

“she’s atsumu’s twin.”

“nah,” the voice comes from a coach sitting close to the court, watching you with interest. “maybe atsumu is hers.”

when you hear it, your lips twitch into a smirk.

later that night, you tell atsumu, smugly, playfully. he groans, ruffling your hair even though it’s already messy from the match.

“shut up.”

“not my fault you got overshadowed.”

“yer my girlfriend, you should be nice to me.”

“i am nice. i let you sit next to me.”

he flicks your forehead, but his grin is unmistakable.

and maybe—just maybe—that’s the best part of all of this.

not the wins, not the competition, not even proving yourself.

but knowing that no matter what, you and atsumu will always be standing next to each other, pushing each other forward, even if the world only sees one shadow.

but the night after the boys' loss is quiet, too quiet. (maybe cause they got lectured after being praised)

even with the weight of victory on your shoulders, you can feel the air around you, heavy with disappointment. the inarizaki boys were supposed to go all the way, to take the championship, to cement their names in history. instead, they lost. and no matter how well they played, no matter how hard they fought, the sting of it is still fresh.

atsumu hasn’t said much. osamu is silent, suna is brooding, and the rest of the team is lost in their own thoughts. but even with all that, they still show up for you. still cheer for you. because you made it. because the girls' team, the brand-new, barely-established girls' team, is in the finals.

“yer gonna win,” atsumu says that night, his voice hoarse from shouting during your semifinals. he leans back against the wall in your hotel room, arms crossed, eyes sharp. “yer gonna bring back that trophy.”

“you sound so sure,” you murmur, stretching out your leg, wincing slightly.

his gaze flickers to you, narrowing. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing.”

it’s a lie. your knee has been screaming at you since the second set of the semifinals, but you didn’t say anything. didn’t let it show. you don’t have time to be injured. not now. not when you’re one game away from winning it all.

atsumu watches you for a second longer, then sighs, ruffling his hair. “don’t push too hard.”

“i always push too hard.”

he lets out a breath, something almost like a laugh. “yeah. i know.”

later that night, as the team settles in, as exhaustion weighs down on everyone, you stay awake. staring at the ceiling. feeling the dull ache in your knee, feeling the pressure settle on your chest. you think about everything that’s led you here, about the hours, the sacrifices, the moments of doubt and frustration.

and then you think about tomorrow.

one more game.

one more chance.

and no matter what, you’re going to take it.

the finals.

the first set is smooth, clean. you send a perfect toss to your wing spiker, and they score. your movements are fluid, precise,muscle memory carrying you through. you can feel the weight of every pair of eyes in the gym, hear the murmurs in the crowd.

“number seven…?” someone whispers the same phrase heard multiple times again. “looks exactly like that number seven on the boys’ team.”

atsumu’s name is everywhere, floating through the stands. comparisons, expectations, judgments.

second set, things start slipping. your sets are a little off, the timing just a fraction of a second late. you don’t miss, but you don’t feel right, either. the moment the ball leaves your hands, you can feel the weight of atsumu and osamu’s stares from the stands. especially atsumu’s.

third set. you send a toss too far, forcing your spiker to stretch for it. you grit your teeth. something is wrong.

you dump the fourth ball yourself, surprising the blockers, earning a point. but your team is still trailing by three.

fifth set. you go for a quick set to your middle blocker, jumping–-

pain. your knee gives out mid-air.

you don’t hit the floor hard, but the moment your knee buckles, the entire gym gasps. you wince, not in pain, but in frustration, in disgust. because you already know what comes next. you can already hear atsumu’s voice in your head, his inevitable lecture. he cares—he always does—but the competition is bigger than that. and you? you didn’t even last the first full game to three.

as the referee calls for a timeout and your coach rushes over, you swallow hard, forcing yourself to sit up. you don’t want to look at the stands, don’t want to see the expression on atsumu’s face. you already know what it’ll be.

but the game isn’t over yet.

and you sure as hell aren’t done.

“you’re done.”

atsumu’s voice is sharp, cutting through the noise of the gym like a blade. he stands (spawns??) in front of you, arms crossed so tightly his knuckles are white. there’s a fire in his eyes, something between anger and worry, something barely held back.

“no, i’m not.” your voice is steady, but your body betrays you. your knee screams when you try to straighten up, the weight of your stance unsteady, but you refuse to let it show. not to him.

“yer knee just gave out,” atsumu says, voice rising with frustration. “you can’t even stand properly, dumbass. ya think yer gonna play like that?”

“watch me.”

he scoffs, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. “yer so goddamn stubborn. do ya even hear yourself? ya wanna wreck yerself for this one game? ya wanna throw away everything ya worked for, all for what?”

“you wouldn’t back down.”

the words are like a slap. atsumu flinches. his mouth opens, but nothing comes out. for once, he has nothing to say.

so you press on. “if it were you, you’d keep playing. you wouldn’t give up just because of some stupid knee pain.”

his hands curl into fists at his sides. “yeah, maybe i would. but that ain’t the point.”

“then what is?” you snap, stepping closer. “you don’t get to lecture me about pushing myself when you’ve done the exact same thing! you don’t get to stand there and tell me to stop when you never have!”

his jaw clenches. “it’s different.”

“how?!”

his voice finally cracks. “because i ain’t watchin’ someone i care about destroy themselves in front of me!”

the words hang in the air, heavy, suffocating. your breath catches in your throat.

the gym is too loud, the echoes of sneakers squeaking against the floor, the sound of the crowd buzzing in your ears. and yet, all you hear is him.

you swallow hard. “i’m playing.”

atsumu exhales sharply, shaking his head, something like defeat flickering across his face. “yer impossible.”

“and you talk too much.”

he lets out a dry laugh, bitter and frustrated, but he doesn’t stop you. he just mutters, “fine. go. see how far ya get.”

so you do.

the deuce drags on. and on. and on.

34-34. then 35-34. then 35-35.

you can hear the announcers losing their minds. you can hear the crowd buzzing, the tension so thick it makes the air feel heavy. no one is backing down. no one is letting up.

every muscle in your body screams. your legs are barely holding up. every time you land, the pain ricochets up your knee like a gunshot, but you bite down hard on the inside of your cheek and keep going. keep setting. keep pushing.

38-38. then 39-38.

one more point.

one more chance to finish this.

your hands tremble as you wipe your palms on your jersey, blinking back the tears blurring your vision. not from emotion, not from frustration—from pure, unbearable agony. you can’t feel your legs anymore. your arms are heavy, your body is screaming, but you refuse to stop. you refuse to let it end here.

atsumu’s voice echoes in your head.

“ya wanna ruin yourself for one game?”

“yer impossible.”

you take in a shaky breath, shaking his voice out of your mind. you have to focus.

the next serve flies over the net like a bullet. your libero gets under it, barely keeping it up. you sprint forward, nearly stumbling, fingers reaching for the ball—

you set.

perfect.

your spiker jumps, swinging, hitting clean, sending the ball crashing into the court on the other side.

40-38.

match point.

but you don’t get to celebrate.

because the moment the ball hits the ground, the moment the whistle blows, your legs give out.

you collapse.

the world tilts, your vision spinning, the sounds around you muffled and distant. you barely register the hands grabbing at you, the voices shouting your name. all you can feel is the burning in your lungs, the numbness in your legs, the tears slipping down your cheeks, unchecked, unstoppable.

you don’t know if you won. you don’t know if you lost.

all you know is that it’s over.

[tomnylover]

hey guys!!! i posted a bit of my fic “Ill be watching you” yesterday and i just thought id post the next bit

hope you enjoy!!

As the years went on, James started to stray from his unholy thoughts about the younger boy, and began focusing on a red haired girl, Lily Evans.

Lily was everything regulus wasnt, a wonderful girl with a heart of gold. She was smart, everything anyone had ever expected from their starboy. So James ran with it; but the problem was that lily didnt want him.

“Lily will you be my valentine?”

“Potter how many times do i have to say no for you to understand my boundaries and leave me alone?”

“You know how long ive wanted you, wont you just please give me a chance?”

“No potter. You are incredibly selfish and i do not want to have to subject myself to your ego. Thats my final decision, please respect it”

James scoffed as he turned away from the angry girl- ‘he wasnt really into her anyway’ he told himself, but as the nights grew lonelier and his heart grew colder, Regulus was starting to be ithe subject of James’ eyeline again.

He was always there, and James tried to talk to him, but Sirius had been clear on the marauders rules.

“Rule 26: Under no circumstances will you communicate with a member from my ex family”

All the marauders agreed to sirius’ list of ridiculous rules - his “boy code” as muggles would say. Really, none of the gryffindors had any reason to speak to the blacks- the blacks wouldnt deem them worthy of a simple conversation.

As James left the great hall, he wandered around the castle, searching for a tranquil nook to sit in, and so he subconsciously ended up on his way to the astronomy tower.

He clicked open the door and felt the light breeze on his face feeling grateful for the castles many quirks.He knew about the room of requirement too, but only because they had used it to conceal their Animagi potions, but ever since, James hadn’t been able to conjure up the need for it. Not yet at least.

A figure sitting dangerously on the ledge caught his eye in an instant; was that really Regulus Black? It was fate really, James thought to himself. Everything brought him back to the slytherin, however hard he tried to get rid of his unfaithful thoughts, he just couldnt. Regulus wasn’t convenient to James, but he loved him either way. Well he thought it was love, he hadn’t had much experience with romance, he was always too busy for anybody.

James didnt know if it was love- to him, the younger Black was perfect in all aspects: smart, funny? cunning, and beautiful.

It was impossible not to like him, Regulus was perfect. Everything about him, from his neatly styled hair or his cold eyes that never warmed up. The way he walked and talked and laughed with his friends. Oh how James desperately wanted to be the one to make him laugh, to make him cry tears of joy.

“Sirius. Just think of Sirius”, James mumbled to himself, yet his affirmations had no affect on his unknown feelings for the boy. Sirius was always James’ but his heart was so big, why couldn’t he just have both Blacks?

Suddenly, Regulus turned around and registered that James was there as well, invading his space and making him slightly uncomfortable. Their eyes locked and James was finally able to see his pearly eyes in the moonlight, they shone bright and glistened with James’ reflection.

“Your beautiful in this light” James took the risk, and hopefully he would be rewarded for it this time.

Regulus’ heart skipped a beat, no way in all heavens and hells that James Potter just called him beautiful? But thats what he did isn’t it, passed out compliments as if it were the simplest action in the world.

“Is that what you tell Evans? Ironic isnt it Potter”

“No- I just wanted to tell you what i thought” He knew he had messed it up. He spoke too soon and ruined whatever they could’ve had before it even started.

“Well if thats the case then i appreciate it. You also have-“ he paused to think. James’ everything was beautiful, out of this world, but he would never admit that out loud. “-Nice hair” Regulus grimaced, as if it physically pained him to say.

“Thanks. Anyway what are you doing up here so late? I thought the younger years had curfew at 10?”

“Just stargazing, look you can see Regulus tonight, its the brightest star this time of year” He spoke with enthusiasm, as if the stars were his world, and as if the sun stole their spotlight far too often, yet James was the sun.

James was so bright and lovely, the sun shone though the gaps in his teeth and the pupils of his eyes. He was the sun incarnate, yet he still let Regulus shine in the dark.

And thats what he would do- let his crush on Regulus shine in the dark, but he would hide it during the day. He didn’t have to, he knew all his friends were accepting, particularly of Sirius and Remus’ pending relationship.

“Thats wonderful” James whispered in awe as he knelt beside the Slytherin. He took a shaky breath in, and his nose filled with Regulus’ scent; Mint and parchment paper. A faint smell of smoke, smoke that felt like home. So thats what James smelt in his amortentia earlier in the week.

hope u had as much fun reading as i did writing- love u all -tomny armstrongs biggest fan xoxo

if u guys have any plot ideas lmk!!!!

[moyathermopolis]

you can’t avoid me 18+

(ruin me pt. ii)

abigail borin x reader

pairing: abigail borin x female reader warnings: smut, forced proximity, submissive r, enemies to lovers, daddy kink, strapon, public sex, rough sex, teasing, bratty r, filthy asf, 18+ word count: 2.4k

"you have got to be kidding me."

your bags dropped with a hard thud on the hardwood floors of the logwood cabin. you walked further into the cozy room observing the quiet leggy redhead cautiously. she was sat on the brown leather sofa, looking straight ahead with her arms crossed on top of her chest. her travel bag occupied one of the twins beds on one side of the cabin.

how the hell did you two get stuck together in the same room for the annual cgis corporate retreat? it had to be some sort of practical joke. you hadn't spoken to agent borin since she fucked you, hard and rough, the night of the holiday party three months ago.

after that night, you tried your best to avoid the daunting agent, not knowing what to say or make of her anymore. you got flustered whenever you saw her in the common areas of the cgis office, very different from the annoyance you were used to feeling.

"nice to see you too agent."

you nodded slowly and bit your lip, still awkwardly standing at the foot the sofa. you wished you could come up with a snippy remark, but you had nothing in the chamber. she looked so hot, in all black sweatpants with her usual perfectly glossed lips and long red hair. dirty thoughts rushed to your mind, heating your core making you clench your thighs together.

you snapped out of it, trying to to shake the filthy thoughts away. you went to the open bed and stored your duffel bag on it, deciding to deal with it later.

she stood from where she sat, observing your off-putting demeanor, "the first team building activity is in ten minutes, might wanna head over?"

"y-yeah, let's go." you were dressed in a simple long sleeve athleisure set, and a matching lightweight thermal jacket. it hugged your built frame and was fitting for the outdoorsy activities the departments were going to compete in the tournament. the final pair with the most points at the end would win some sort of prize. some teams were extremely competitive, therefore alliances were already made prior to the random selection of teams.

you didn't care about any of it, you just wanted to get this mandatory weekend over already. you two walked out onto the green terrain, spotting the bundled up cgis agents. cold case, organized crime, and border enforcement agents were mixed up in random teams in the sitting area. you and borin grabbed an open spot, just as the activity leader began explaining the first game.

"hopefully by now you've all rubbed elbows with your new partner! we really worked hard this year to match those who really don't know each other..."

you rolled your eyes and began to tune out the lengthy boring speech. it was a complete lie anyway, you and borin were very well acquainted, everyone knew that. however, they weren't privy to the way she possessed and dominated you, clouding your thoughts from then on.

the rustling and rapid movements of your fellow coast guard agents pulled you from your thoughts. you noticed they were dispersing quickly, going into the packed woods in all different directions.

"what's-"

"scavenger hunt, we're going this way." she pointed to a random spot through the thick green trees and began walking.

you didn't hear the directions, so you followed her without putting up a fight. your short legs were fighting to keep up with her long stride as she stalked deeper and deeper into the woods. what the hell was the prize and why did everyone scurry off so quickly?

"slow down borin! what are we even looking for?!"

"if you would have listened you would know."

"yeah?" you scoffed, "well i couldn't get over that bullshit lie of matching people who don't know each other." you spat out, not noticing the way she abruptly stopped, causing you to run straight into her toned back. "ow!"

she whipped around hastily, her chest heaving up and down, "do you really want to know why we got paired together?"

"does it matter? it clearly wasn't random."

borin's jaw clenched and her green eyes bore into yours intensely. she slowly walked closer to you, caging you against the trunk of a huge oak tree.

your breath caught in your throat being so close to her, you gulped when you felt her lips on your ear, grazing it, "i found out the collaboration manager was this year and i told them, i don't give a fuck if you're trying to avoid me. i'm not going anywhere anytime soon so we might as well work this... thing out."

a shiver ran down your spine as you breathed her amber cologne in, "and they fell for that?"

"what can i say, i can be very convincing."

her deep raspy voice heated your core, instantly turning you on as she trapped you in between her toned arms, suffocating you with want and need. your resolve weakened and you melted, reaching for her.

"did i say you could touch me?" she caught your wrist tightly before your fingers could wrap around the obvious bulge poking through her black sweats.

you whimpered and finally met her fervent gaze, silently pleading with her. deep down you knew she was strapped since you found her sitting on the couch, and you wanted it so fucking bad. you wanted to feel her thick dick moving inside of you, filling you up again, you craved it.

"please borin."

"c'mon, we have three geocache's to find."

she backed off of you with a knowing smirk and continued to walk through the densely packed woods. you had no time to collect yourself as you ran after her, flustered, not wanting to get lost out here by yourself.

"ummm where's the scavenger hunt paper?"

"don't need it."

"fine… but i don't think we should be going this deep into the woods. i can't even see the cabins or any agents so-"

her deep chuckled interrupted you, "are you scared agent?"

"what?! n-no! i hunt down cold-blooded killers, this is... this is n-nothing." borin stopped again, turning around to face you. you eyed the elusive woman carefully, her intentions unknown to you.

"what if i told you we're not on the right trail for the scavenger hunt... and everyone else is at least 3,000 feet away from us by now."

you crossed your arms in annoyance, letting out a huff, "i get it agent, this whole thing is premeditated!what do you want from me so bad?"

you had no time to register agent borin's quick movements, you felt your back rub viciously against the aged wood of an oak tree. one hand gripped your neck while the other slipped around your waist tightly. the only sound you could let out was a shaky whimper as you felt her thigh slide between your legs, pressing right up against your core.

"if that little stunt you pulled back there told me anything, it's that you want the same thing as me."

"and what's that?" you felt her lips ghosting over yours, making you chase her when she pulled away.

her dark eyes gazed into your blown pupils, “you want this just as much as i do"

"why don't you give it me then, satiate us both yeah?" you bit your bottom lip, finally wrapping your hand around the girth bulging through her sweats.

borin's hand gripped your wrist tightly as she growled, guiding your movements up and down on the thick silicone. you stroked the length of her dick harshly, pressing the material of the harness against her clit. the gasp that escaped her lips urged you on frantically.

"you're not gonna get it that fucking easily you bratty bitch."

you continued to rub on her length, speaking to her sweetly, "please daddy... it's been three months and i n-need it."

"you can't even maintain eye contact with me at the office. you won't speak to me or even acknowledge my presence, but you'll beg for my dick like a desperate little slut in the forest?"

she grabbed both sides of your face, making you look at her. you stilled your fluid motions, heartbeat rapid as you stared into her dark eyes.

"oh, that's what you want from me," you smiled cheekily, "you set this up so you could straighten me out? make me stop ignoring you?" you leaned into her, leaving sloppy kisses on the side of her neck as you began rubbing lazy circles on her hips. you slowly dropped to your knees, directly in front of her boot-covered feet.

you wasted no time pulling the hem of her sweatpants down. "you're finally going to put that pretty mouth to good use." she rasped, grabbing your chin tightly with her palm. she coaxed your mouth open with the tip of her dick and immediately filled your throat to the brim.

your nose rubbed against her belly from how deep you were taking her, saliva dripped out of the sides of your mouth making it messy. she ground her heavy dick into your warm mouth, snapping her hips into you, "are you going to be nice to daddy?" you nodded your head vigorously, tears dripping out of your eyes from having your airway obstructed for so long. "use your words slut."

you smacked her thigh with an open palm, an angry red mark appearing instantly. she pulled her strap from your throat, admiring the strand of the saliva that trailed from the tip of her dick to your swollen lips.

"i'll be nice to you, daddy," you bit out through gritted teeth.

"yeah? are you going to speak to daddy when you see her at the office?"

"if that's what daddy wants," you wrapped your fingers around the base of her dick, smacking the head of it against your tongue. the passion in her eyes, the desperation in the way she bit her bottom lip excited your pussy.

"yes or no, are you going to stop ignoring daddy, you bratty bitch?

"yes daddy, since you care so much, i'll stop ignoring you."

"you never learn, do you?"

"teach me again, please."

your satisfied smile pissed her off, she pulled you by up your arms, and swiftly turned you around. the redheaded agent bent you over, ripping your leggings down, and you instinctively held onto the tree in front of you. your core was throbbing with need, your whole body warm to the touch from the cat and mouse game you've two been playing for the past thirty minutes.

she rubbed the head of her dick along your slick folds, teasing you, "beg me for it, just like you did the last time."

you leaned further into the tree, reaching back with one hand to spread your swollen pussy lips apart. you smirked hearing her groan, knowing she was chewing her bottom lip, eyes glued to your wet pussy and throbbing clit. "mmmm, so wet for you daddy, please... pleaseeeee fill me up, like i'm your slut."

borin slapped the tip of her dick against your warm hole and slid in, stretching you, "you are my slut, my dumb... desperate... bratty bitch, aren't you?" you felt the slippery silicone slide further into you with each inflection of her words, making you release throaty gasps.

"fuck yes!" the soft globes of your ass met the taller woman's pelvis in quick frantic motions, creating a redundant echo throughout the forest. "feels so fucking good daddy!" you were flush against the tree now with the other agent’s front against your back. you felt her hardened nipples through her top as she worked her hips into your backside.

the husky groans she was making in your ear made your knees buckle. "you just couldn't wait until we got back to the cabin, could you slut?"

only a shaky whimper left your mouth as you shook your head. you captured her lips in a deep kiss, slipping your tongue inside of her mouth. agent borin moaned into your mouth as her nails dug into your hips, creating little crescents in your skin. her pace was steady, stretching you out deeply with the strap-on. you squealed feeling the pads of her fingers on your slick clit, making light circles.

"you know just what i like, fuuuck! so good to me daddy, mmmm." you reached back, slipping your fingers under the harness of the strap-on to rub her clit, matching her intensity.

her fingers wrapped around your throat as she hissed in your ear, "you're making a mess all over me... again."

you pulled your soaking fingers from her cunt to observe them, you grinned victoriously as you showed them to her, "you too abby."

fire ignited in both your eyes seeing the creamy wetness all over your fingers. she guided your fingers between her own lips, sucking them off. you swooned and pouted from jealousy, this was your second time not getting to taste her.

the sensation of her tongue swirling around your digits, matched with her mouth hollowing out, made your pussy flutter around her thick dick, you were cumming in intense waves. you sucked in a large gasp of air, feeling your heart skip a beat, your knees buckled from the intense stimulation coming from your spent core. "oh my god!! f-fuck! i’m c-cumminggg, ah!."

borin's arm wrapped around your trembling body, attempting to catch you from falling but you still toppled over. she went with you, trying to brace your fall with her free hand. she moved your hair to the side, getting a good look at you, “shit! are you okay princess?”

your heavy lids were closed but that put a cheeky smile back on your face. your chest rose and fell slowly as you reached for her, “mmmm princess, i think i like that.”

her supple lips found a spot on your neck, teasingly biting it. she was mounted on your back like you were her prey, her hard dick still rubbing against your swollen lips. all you felt was complete ecstasy.

“yeah? you want to be daddy’s princess?”

“yes abby.”

she smiled hearing her name come so sweetly from your lips, then she softly kissed them. why’d it take this long to figure out you two were equally yoked?

[witchygagirlwrites]

Muse-Part 2

Greg “Mouse” Gerwitz x reader

An undercover assignment trudges up feelings which leads to more heartbreak

Warnings: sex

You pulled into the lot behind Erin and parked. She climbed out of her car and crossed her arms with a smirk on her face until you parked and got out “What’s that look about Lindsay?” she shook her head “The love struck puppy we have wandering around upstairs?” you shook your head “I can do nothing about that”

She grinned “You know he realizes he fucked up right?” you shrugged “Why did it take losing me to want to stay for me?” she shrugged “He’s a man and men are idiots?” you started laughing and about that time the back door of the station house opened and the man in question walked out with Jay. Both of them exchanged a look when they realized you and Erin were together and laughing. “Why do I feel like we missed the butt of the joke?” Jay asked and you raised an eyebrow “Or are the butt?” and he shot you a playful glare “Easy Muse”

You grinned and cut your eyes at Mouse who gave you a small smile “Morning Muse” you nodded “Morning Gerwitz” if you kept it at that level maybe it wouldn’t hurt. You saw Jay and Erin exchange a look out of the corner of your eye but couldn’t focus on that. You turned your attention from Mouse to Jay “Why are you with my rookie anyways?” he shrugged “We were looking for you two. Case came in”

“Way to bury the lead there Halstead” you rolled your eyes and headed for the door, Erin falling in step with you and the guys following behind the two of you.

How the hell out of every assignment you could’ve gotten handed, you were given the task of sitting on the target? You shifted in the seat of your suv for the ten thousandth time. Mouse cut his eyes at you “Are you ok?”

You nodded “This is bullshit. Voight and Al could’ve done this. He knows I hate surveillance. I think I’m in the damn corner or something for choosing to work with the D.A.’s office” he laughed lightly “I’m sorry” you raised an eyebrow “Why are you sorry?” he shrugged “It’s my fault you took the job” you waved a hand through the air “Doesn’t matter now, does it”

_____________________

Mouse got quiet then, he didn’t want to push you because you’d actually spoken to him. That was the most you’d said to him since you’d come back.  He missed you so damn much.  He was starting to think he was under some sort of punishment as well. Being trapped in this close of quarters with you was nothing short of torture when all he wanted was for you to talk to him about everything that happened between the two of you. He wanted to apologize. He’d hurt you so damn bad. He’d promised to protect your heart and had shredded it instead.

“Officer Gerwitz?” you called and when he cut his eyes at you his heart flipped when you had the smallest of smirks on your face “Yeah sweetheart?” the moment he called you that your face fell “Pay attention to your job rookie. You fuck up and it’s gonna look bad on me” 

Of course, you’d given a sliver of an olive branch and he fucked it up. “Yes ma’am” he replied and you looked back out the front window, ignoring him all together when you said “Voight better call it soon or I may go kick the damn door in”

After the fruitless surveillance Voight sent you and Mouse on, he decided on a different angle. You would roll up some of the crew and see if they’d flip. The only issue was you had to do it on the sly. “Black out gear all around. Al and I will drive. You get in, snatch their asses and get out”

You watched Voight give orders and your eyes flickered over towards Mouse. Black out ops were always quick and left no room for mistakes. You had two targets. Two teams were going in. Jay was leading one and Erin the other. Jay would have you and Kim backing him while Erin had Mouse and Adam. Kevin and Antonio would be watching everyone’s backs at the entrance.

“Gear up and roll out” Voight ordered so you stood to head down to roll up, ignoring how Mouse watched you the entire way. You couldn’t do this right now.

_____________________

You stood next to Kim in the bullpen while Voight had one perp in interrogation one and Al had the other in interrogation two. Everything went smoothly. Mouse fit into the unit beautifully in the field, you had to admit it. “How’s it going?” she asked and you nodded “Fine” she laughed “Been there” you shook your head “I’m not taking him back”

She cut her eyes at you “Are you sure?” you shrugged “I still love him Kim. I always will but I can’t trust him” she nodded slowly “I get it but I see how you look at him. How are you two going to keep working together with all this left unsaid?” you shrugged “I’ll figure it out” “Ok. If you need anyone to talk to, let me know” 

Both guys ended up rolling. You needed their boss who would be at his club the following night. The problem was major crimes was investigating his club. After Voight made some phone calls it was decided that four of you from intelligence would go undercover and a few detectives from Major crimes would back the other six. 

You were sitting at your desk when Voight walked out of his office “Burgess and Ruzek, you’re going under together” the two of them nodded then Voight’s eyes landed on you “Muse, you’re going under” you nodded “I can handle that. Who’s my partner?” he nodded to Mouse.

You felt your stomach hit your feet “He’s never done undercover work, has he?” Voight shrugged “He’s done some buys with Halstead and Ruzek and did fine” you shook your head “Buys and actual undercovers are two different things”

“You all were rookies once Kid” you rolled your eyes “With all due respect why the hell am I jumping through hoops? You let me go to the D.A! How long are you gonna bust my balls?” he crossed his arms and stared you down “As long as I want. I’m your sergeant, Muse. Now are you gonna have a hissy fit or do your damn job” you shook your head “I’m gonna do my damn job and do it well but know I’m not happy about it” he shrugged “You don't got to be happy just get it done”

_____________________

You stood to walk towards the break room and heard Al fall in step behind you. “I know, I know I shouldn’t argue with him like that”  you turned to face him and he shook his head “Hank’s a big boy, I’m just checking on you. Are you going to be able to handle this? Going under close with Mouse?”  you nodded “I can handle it because it’s my job. Hell I’ve had to act like I want Ruzek before” 

Adam walked into the break room about that time and froze with a grin “What did I do?” Al shook his head with a laugh and patted your shoulder “If you need to get pulled you know the code. I’ll pull it and deal with Hank”  you shook your head “I got this O. Thank you though”

“Erin, seriously?” you stared at the outfit she’d handed you and she grinned “You and Kim have to play arm candy” you shook your head “Why the hell can’t Adam and Greg be arm candy and we be the damn buyers for once?”

Adam walked behind you about the time and whistled “Thanks for the compliment Muse but I don’t think I could pull of Kim’s outfit and I know for a fact Mouse couldn’t pull that off” you cut your eyes back at him with a smirk “I don’t know, might be worth it to see you both in heels”  He was already dressed in his suit and Kim was in her dress. You just weren’t a fan of the choice. 

Erin shrugged “This was the best option Muse” you sighed and took it “Fine. Come help me with zippers” she nodded and followed you into the bathroom.

_______________________

Mouse walked into rollup behind Kevin. Everyone was getting ready to head out. The detectives from Major Crimes were there, Kim and Adam had their coms in. He had his in, they were just waiting on you because from what Jay said you’d argued with Erin over the outfit until the final moment possible.

“There she is!” Jay groaned and Mouse turned to see you coming down the steps behind Erin. You shot Jay a glare. The damn black dress you were wearing had a plunging neckline, hugged every curve deliciously and looked like it was made for you. The way Erin had done your hair and makeup along with it? He had to remind himself this was work, you weren’t his anymore. Fuck, why weren’t you his? 

Ryan Fergurson from Major Crimes grinned when you made it down the stairs “Well detective you know how to make an appearance don’t you?” “Don’t you think it’s just slightly inappropriate to be looking at her ass when you’re supposed to be watching all of ours?” Mouse blurted out without thinking when he saw the way the man was looking at you.

You turned to look at him with an eyebrow raised as Antonio cleared his throat “With that being said, let's play nice boys and girls and get a move on” 

You and Mouse were riding with Adam and Kim since their undercovers Brody and Wyatt  were in business together. You fell in step next to Mouse as the two of you followed Adam and Kim out to the suv “What the fuck was that?” he shrugged “Asshole is drooling over you when he should be doing his damn job” you shook your head “Really Gerwitz? You embarrassed the hell out of me” he cut his eyes at you “I didn’t like how he was looking at you. Adam would’ve done the same over Kim, Jay over Erin” You scoffed “They’re with them Greg. You’re not with me” and hurried to catch up with Adam and Kim.

He felt his heart drop at the reminder, the anger in your eyes. He hadn’t meant to embarrass you. Hell he hadn’t really even meant to say anything. It was just when that asshole had his eyes glued to your chest, it was say something or break his jaw. He figured a few tossed words were a better option than a thrown punch. He sighed and climbed into the suv. 

_________________________

The job was simple enough. The four of you just had to go in, observe the club and make sure the boss was there and see just how many flunkies he had backing him. Of course that was so much easier said than done when every other couple in the place were wrapped around each other the moment the four of you walked into the door.

Kim cut her eyes at you “Ashleigh, want a drink?” you nodded “Yeah, let's go grab one” Mouse squeezed your hand as you pulled away from him and you weren’t sure if it was him or Wyatt but either way it made your heart flip.  “I’ll be right back baby” you cooed and gently directed him towards Adam “You and Brody have clear line of vision on me and Tonya” he smiled “Ok love” and your heart damn near dove out of your chest. Why the fuck did he have to call you love when that’s the one damn name he never used until after the two of you got serious?

You followed Kim across the club, her hand secure in yours as the two of you made your way to the bar. Both yours and hers eyes tracked everyone around you the entire way. So far you’d clocked three bodyguards. “Virgin pina coladas” she ordered and the bartender nodded and went to make your order. She leaned closer and tapped her com “I clocked two on the north end of the building” you tilted your head, tapping your com as well “Three on the south” “Copy that” Jay’s voice in your ear was a bit of a calming factor. Once your drinks were handed back you made your way back over to where Adam and Mouse were waiting. You needed to make your way over to the far end of the club where all the managers were. The C.I.s had gotten Brody a booth reserved.

Adam pulled her into his arms “Bout time you made it back gorgeous” you were jealous how easy this was for them. You had no problem with any undercover you were given but this? This may prove to be a bit of a pain. Adam nodded at Mouse “C’mon Wyatt, let's check out this so called VIP section this place boasts about”

Mouse’s arm slipped around your waist and you inhaled sharply when his fingertips brushed against the bareskin left by the cut out in the dress. If he noticed he didn’t say anything thankfully. “You ok baby?” he asked and you smiled “I’m perfect Wyatt” holding his eyes to remind him that this was fake. 

The two of you followed Adam and Kim through the club, eyeing the fact that there were multiple offices and short of the asshole coming out and announcing he was here it may very well be hard to tell. Once you got to the reserved booth and were comfortable you all moved closer. When you realized the fact that the four of you crowding looked weird you moved to sit in Mouse’s lap and Kim did the same to Adam. That way the two of them could just shift slightly closer and talking would be easier without pulling attention.

One of his hands was at your hip, his thumb tracing patterns through the dress. You tried to ignore that and how it made your stomach flip any time he shifted his legs. “We need to check those offices” you had a hand on Mouse’s shoulder to brace yourself and to just sell this better as you leaned closer to her, a fake smile in place “How the hell do you propose we do Tonya?” 

She shrugged “Four of us. They’re armed” you cut your eyes at Mouse and he nodded. You shook your head “That’s not fair that we only get the ceramic blades O gets us” he grinned “I won’t let nothing happen to ya Ashleigh” you rolled your eyes then looked back at Kim “Two a piece? First one finds anything good hollers Marco, other set hollers polo then we get the hell out and let everyone come in to roll his ass up?” she nodded “Sounds like a plan”

_____________________

The first office you and Mouse checked was empty. No lights, the sound, nothing. The second office you hit paydirt. Georgio Travis was inside on a phone call. You shared a smile with him as you tapped your com “Marco” and heard Adam respond in time along with Jay and Voight. 

You and Mouse were moving to walk out of the hallway when the office opened from one way and a bodyguard started coming from the other. Fuck, this was bad. There was no way to explain the two of you just being in a side hallway. “Kiss me” you whispered and he looked confused for a second before you pulled him against you, putting your back to the wall. The shock quickly wore off the moment his lips brushed against yours. One of his hands went to your jaw, tilting your head and he rolled his lips against yours, flicking his tongue into your mouth. The other hand was at your hip, teasing the skin there with how rough his grip was. When his hand moved from your jaw down to wrap just enough around your throat you whimpered lightly into his mouth.

“Excuse me” you heard the bodyguard and you two broke apart, chest heaving. Mouse turned to face the guy, keeping himself between you and him. “Yeah man?” the bodyguard shook his head but luckily laughed “At least take that shit in that bathroom. Not outside my boss man’s office” Mouse grinned “Sorry about that. She just looks so damn good”

Mouse grabbed your hand and pushed you in front of him as you two walked out of the hallway. Your heart was pounding in your chest as he whispered “Fuck that was close Muse” you shot him a glare “Yeah Wyatt, that was” you weren’t outside yet. You were still under. His eyes widened when he realized his slip but there was no time for that. The exit was a little too close and you could spot Adam’s head slip back in to look for you. You grabbed his hand and gave it a tug “Come on”

The more you thought about it, the more you got pissed off. If someone would have heard him. It could have put everything at risk. Not to mention why did he have to call you love? Or put his damn hand around your throat like that? He was trying to fucking torment you.

He’d broken your heart, your trust! Not the other way around. He had no right to be acting like this. You parked behind his truck and slammed your car door before walking up to the front door of his place. He wanted you to talk to him, dammit you were going to talk to him.

Mouse heard a knock at his door and didn’t know who the hell it was. Jay was out with Erin, he didn’t really have many friends outside of the unit. He walked over to answer the door and there you stood, looking rather pissed off. “Can I come in?” you asked as you walked past him. “Of course” he replied, shutting the door and turning to face you. “Is something wrong?”

You scoffed when he asked was something wrong. “Is something wrong? Really Greg?” he shrugged “I don’t remember doing anything to piss you off this bad” you shook your head “That shit calling me Muse in the club. You not only put us at risk, you put everyone at risk” he dropped his gaze “Fuck, I know. I’m sorry it’s just..kissing you, having you in my arms? I was lucky I was thinking that damn clearly” “That’s another thing!” you nearly yelled waving your hands through the air and knew you had to look half crazy at this point.

“What?” he asked and you pointed at him “The way you look at me. Like I ripped your heart out instead of the other way around. You fucking left me Greg, before I ever left you” he was watching you like you were the most important thing in the world to him and it pissed you off and ripped you apart at the same time. He took a step towards you “You think I don’t know I hurt you? You think that I don’t regret that every damn day?” you shook your head “I never should’ve come back to the unit”

You brushed past him with intentions of leaving. You had your hand on the door when he said “You’re all I ever think about Muse” you spun around to face him “Were you thinking about me when you wanted to leave me? When you looked me in the eyes and told me there was nothing in Chicago worth keeping you here?” you could feel tears forming in your eyes but it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you cry before “Were you thinking about me when you got so far in your head you wouldn’t see that you were hurting me when you swore you never would?”

He swallowed hard, eyes glued to you. “Fuck it” you muttered, grabbing him by the belt loops to snatch him to you and the moment he got close enough you pulled him down into a kiss. His lips found yours in a hungry kiss and your hands slid under his shirt, nails teasing his skin causing him to groan into your mouth as he broke away from you long enough to meet your eyes, chest heaving “Muse, what do you want here baby?” you let your eyes skim over his body as an answer and he shrugged before snatching his shirt over his head and tossing it.

The moment his chest was bare to you, you turned him around against the door. You barely teased a kiss against his lips before moving to kiss across his jaw and down his neck, nipping at the spots you knew would have him gripping your hips tight enough to leave bruises. Your nails were leaving light marks down his chest and his eyes fluttered shut as he moaned your name. Suddenly he grabbed your hands and your back was against the door with your arms pinned over your head and he was standing in front of you “Say you want me, please” 

“I want you Greg” you whispered and he grinned “Thank god” then crashed his lips against yours before his hands slipped down behind your thighs so he could pick you up. You gasped lightly and wrapped your legs around his waist. He laughed into the kiss “Forget I can manhandle you?” you grinned “Just surprised still” he headed for his bedroom “Let me remind you”

___________________

Mouse dropped you to his bed and within moments you were both stripped. He held himself up over you “Are you sure about this?” “Greg!” you warned and he grinned “Yes ma’am” and pressed a kiss to your lips, his fingers teasing at your slit before one long digit slipped into you. Your back arched off the bed at the touch, a low moan leaving you as he added a second finger, curling them both to tease over that spot inside of you. 

“I missed you so damn much” he whispered, breaking from your lips to tease at your neck with his lips and teeth as he worked you towards an orgasm. You whimpered when he bit down on your pulse point at the same time he twisted his wrist at just the right angle, adding pressure to your clit with the heel of his hand. 

You felt that sensation start to build right before he curled his fingers just right that your vision went soft around the edges as your orgasm slammed into you. You moaned his name out, clenching around his fingers as he worked you through the orgasm.

Once you stopped shaking a bit he slipped his fingers out of you and smiled, slipping them into his mouth to clean them. “Still taste so damn sweet my little Muse” you whimpered and he grinned before crashing his lips against yours, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

He moved to kiss down your body and you shook your head “Baby, please?” That man always loved eating you out. Loved having you tug his hair, beg him not to stop while you cried about it being too much but you needed him now. “I want you inside me Greg, please” you spoke and he nodded “I got you baby”

He positioned himself between your legs, cock teasing at your entrance then he froze. “I don’t have a condom” you smiled because that meant he hadn’t been with anyone else. “Still on birth control” you replied and he nodded, lining himself up before slowly pushing into you. Your head fell back on the pillows. Fuck, fuck fuck. Every damn emotion you’d ever had for this man came rushing to you in that moment. You felt tears spring to your eyes at the feeling. “Muse?” he asked and you nodded “I’m good”

He pressed a kiss to your lips “Then let me see you” you opened your eyes that you hadn’t even realized you closed and fuck how he was looking at you “I love you Muse” he whispered before giving a roll of his hips. Your hands flew to his shoulders, leg hooking around his waist as a moan of his name fell from your lips. He buried his face in the bend of your neck, hips quickly finding a rhythm that had your nails leaving traces of you behind in his flesh as he pushed you closer and closer to that edge. 

When his hand slipped between your bodies, long fingers teasing at your clit, your back arched off the bed as you came, clenching hard around him. He grunted as he continued to fuck you through the orgasm  “Fuck baby, squeezing me so damn hard”  you pulled him into a messy kiss that was all tongue and teeth but neither of you could’ve cared. His hands went to your hips, spreading your legs further and bringing them both up to rest on his shoulders.

You cried out when he gave a sharp snap of his hips in this new angle. Fuck, it felt so damn amazing it was borderline painful. “That good?” he asked and you nodded “Fuck me Greg, please” he groaned “Any time, any where” 

_______________________

Your knees were damn near on your shoulders as Mouse fucked you, every thrust slamming the headboard into the wall. You were sobbing his name, nails digging into his flesh as he worked you both closer and closer to that edge. When he slipped a hand between you to find your clit your head fell back, legs shaking around him as you came. His hips never lost their rhythm as they snapped into yours, chasing his own high. When he finally came with a low moan of your name as he buried himself inside of you with a final thrust, the feeling of him cumming was enough to push your already overworked pussy over that edge once more because your eyes rolled back slightly as your legs shook and you moaned his name out.

 He stilled after a moment, both of your chests heaving. He slowly lowered your legs, rubbing them both tentatively. “Did I hurt you?” you shook your head “No” and he smiled, pressing another kiss to your lips “Let me clean you up” he pulled out of you and apologized when you whined at the feeling. “I’ll grab you something to drink too beautiful”

_________________________

You watched him walk out of the room and a sinking feeling settled in your chest. You’d just had sex with your ex that you were still very much in love with. He was probably thinking you just took him back and you couldn’t be more confused at the moment. You’d come here to argue with him, not this.

When he came back with a warm towel you averted your eyes as he helped you clean up then offered you a bottle of water. You took the water and set up in the bed, wrapping the sheet around yourself “I’ll um..I’ll go when my legs are back to one hundred” he smiled slightly “Go?”

You nodded “Yeah to my place?” he pointed to the bed “Stay here” you shook your head “Greg, I can’t” his face fell and he looked around before finding his boxers and slipped them on, pushing his hair back. “Why?” 

“Greg, I didn’t come here looking to do that” he shrugged “Not like I was complaining Muse. I haven’t gone a moment without thinking about you since the day you left me” you lowered your eyes to your hands “We’re not..we’re not back together Greg”

When he didn’t say anything you slowly looked up and he was staring at you “What?” he shook his head “Bullshit, I know you. You don’t do casual sex” “And I never thought you would’ve tried to go back into a war over building a future with me!” you argued and his shoulders dropped “I didn’t”

You nodded “After I left. You decided after I left” you could feel tears start to hit your eyes so you wrapped the sheet tighter around you and climbed out of the bed to go in search of your own clothes. “I love you Muse. I have always loved you. When I considered that it was because I wanted to be a better man for you” he spoke low. 

Your eyes flew up, dropping the sheet in favor of picking up your clothes and not caring. “Or you could’ve talked to me, let me in and realized that I fucking loved you with everything I had”

“Loved?” his voice was so low it broke you. You shook your head and started to get dressed but he stopped you, hands grabbing your wrists. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t love me anymore” he spoke and you shook your head “I can’t” “Then why can’t you just let me back in? You just let me have you then you’re gonna turn around and tell me no it was a one time thing?”

You slowly raised your eyes to meet his and swallowed hard, both of you had tears in your eyes “I don’t know what to do here Greg. I don’t trust you. It’s only been a few months. How can I be sure you won’t leave when you get bored of me?” he dropped your wrists like they burnt “Is that how you feel? Like I got bored of you?” you nodded, finishing getting dressed.

“I have never been more whole than at your side” he spoke and you shook your head “And I still wasn’t enough” he nodded slowly “What about work?” you shrugged “Act like this never happened. Please?” 

“Ok” he replied and you nodded “Ok”

You barely made it out to your car before tears started falling. Fuck how did you fuck everything up yet again? You wanted nothing more than to curl up to him, tell him you loved him still and to trust that he meant everything he said but did he?

________________

Mouse watched you walk out of his door and felt his heart break all over again. How the fuck could he go into work tomorrow and act like that didn’t just happen? He’d broken your trust and had no clue how to get it back. He loved you more than he ever thought he could love someone. Why the hell had he ever let his issues come between you and him? 

He had everything in the palm of his hand and fucking self sabotaged it. He had to go into work and act like he hadn’t held you in his arms and watched you walk out yet again. What would it take to prove himself to you? He had to figure it out before he lost you for good. 

@desimarie12

[lunarruled]

As soon as she heard Rosita's voice Kyleigh allowed herself a few moments to enjoy the small victory. Yes what she had done could have gone horribly wrong and gotten them all killed but it worked and that was the whole point of this. Maybe the others had wanted to stay in that camp, but when she saw how quickly the guards were willing to kill whenever a situation arose she knew she had to get the hell out. Besides it was getting too risky for her to sneak out anymore. There were no more calendars, days were only separated now by when the sun was up and when it went down. So she had no real way to plan around the full moons. And some years had more of them than others. Huh maybe she should have gone out before and never came back.

Especially since Warren always had to have something to say even though he was the one that probably would have been just fine staying behind. Should have left him there, see how far his smarts would get him when the camp became over run with those dead things. The half lycan was about to give him a real piece of her mind when Rosita interjected, saving him from getting embarrassed in front of a bunch of women. And possibly getting them caught, defeating the entire purpose of their planned escape.

"Agreed." Was all the half lycan said, speaking to Rosita but glaring at Warren. Now was the time to be quiet and think of their next move, not argue over something stupid like a damn scream. Not like it did much anyway, everyone was too busy worrying about the gun shot to care about it.

Long trips in the back of a truck were no big deal to Kyleigh. She often drove all through the night just to get to the next place she wanted to visit. Following some fool's dream of finding a cure for what she was though no such thing existed. Didn't matter now. The world was over and no one gave a shit about cures or the supernatural. Just the dead walking around trying to eat the living.

Getting rest? Well maybe she would but she was kind of wound up from the adrenaline rush of what just happened so she highly doubted it. Still she would try, or if not take a watch and let the others sleep a little longer. They needed it more than she did, and man she would give anything to go a couple of hours without having to hear Warren bitch about every single thing she did.

The softness of Rosita's voice brought Kyleigh back to their current situation, a sigh falling from her lips. "Yeah. I mean I would say I've been through worse, but I think this kind of tops it." Not the exact time to crack a joke, but something had to break this damn tension while they waited for the truck to get back on the road.

"And you? Still think this was a good idea?"

"Wow. That distraction really worked", Rosita spoke in a low murmur. Nobody would be able to hear them as they were hidden behind crates in the back of a closed truck, but she still somehow felt like it would be odd to speak normally.

Frankly, she thought Kyleigh's move had been incredibly risky, but she didn't want to complain. Things had gone incredibly well considering they were trying to do the near impossible. Escaping a military camp. Thinking about it like that sounded ridiculous. It felt ridiculous they were trying to escape a place behind fences when there were flesh eating creatures out there, sometimes featured in larger groups. She remembered when she had seen a dozen of them at once.

There was a feeling gnawing at her that maybe she would come to regret this decision. Maybe she was throwing away her only chance of surviving..

They could still sneak out of the truck, she remembered. As for now they still had a choice of staying here or leaving.

Irina interrupted her train of thought, commenting how the guard was a caring person to have climbed over the fence for Kyleigh with no hesitation, followed by her expressing her hope that he comes back safely. "Few men would risk their lives for the life of a woman's man, especially if they don't know him..", she added.

"Let's hope you won't scream when we get out there. Noise attracts the infected, in case you haven't figured that out. More of them will be heading towards the fence now", Warren reminded, tone neutral, but with a tired edge to it. As he went on he began to sound more chiding. "Next time, get more creative and less impulsive. There are other ways to distract a guard. You could've gotten yourself in trouble-"

Rosita quickly chimed in before the two would have the chance to get snarky with each other. Admittedly, she thought he was right, but she didn't want her new companions to have a pointless discussion in the back of a truck. Plus, maybe it had been the best way to distract that guard. Maybe something else wouldn't have worked. Maybe he would have just called another guard over to keep an eye on the area while he investigated it in any other case. Who knew?

"We're here now. We made it", Rosita reminded. "From now on, everyone will be quiet."

Damn, she sounded very military, didn't she?

"We were screwed anyway. That guard's shot was pretty loud", Rosita argued, glancing at Warren. "Definitely louder than Kyleigh's scream. We're not safe here, that's why we're trying to get out."

She sighed, looking over at Irina who looked more than exhausted, the bags under her blue eyes having taken on a purpleish tint.

"We'll be stuck inside here until tomorrow morning now. I suggest we all rest. We can take turns keeping watch on the others. Three of us can sleep while one stays awake. You can rest now, I'll keep watch."

Irina was quick to fall asleep, and so was Warren. If Kyleigh didn't fall asleep, Rosita would decide to ask her something. "Are you alright? It's been.. a lot."

And there was so much more to come.

[coelacat]

the thing they don't tell you is that when you're depressed and poor that the food is actually what drives you most fucking insane

[cozylittleartblog]

me omw to scare mormons out of a wendys!! 🍂🖤🍟

ootd from like 2 weeks ago and yes that really happened

[swordscleric]

I think as a result of their indecision, general dithering on every possible decision and inability to provide a single sliver of rationale behind the actions they have taken, I personally don't think we can judge Bell's Hells on whether or not their decisions are moral or not. Have they wishy-washily and passively avoided every hard question that could have been asked of them? Yes; but that speaks to a lack of interesting ideas and a lack of curiosity on their collective behalf in dealing with the scenarios set before them. I think if we judge them on anything it is the consequences of their actions (or inaction). Realistically, I reckon (depending on how releasing Predathos goes) they will be treated in a similar way to how someone like Vespin Chloras was treated by history - a damned fool whose actions lead to the annihilation of civilisations, the destruction of millions of lives and as such has been (rightfully!) condemned by Exandrian history as one of its greatest villains. Our softening of our view as a fandom on Vespin comes from his editing of Zerxus' pact to save the world from the rage of the Primordials. I think his actions, typical of the Age of Arcanum, echo Ludinus' fatal ideological folly in assuming that they would lead to prosperity due to a change in the divine structures of Exandria; Bell's Hells, having followed Ludinus' plan to the letter, now risk becoming as big of villains as Vespin Chloras for even worse reasons - a total lack of imagination and a deep unwillingness to engage with any hard question that would force them to face their lack of interiority as a party.