#and then life came and kicked me in the face like five times over

[sieglinde-freud]

sorry im late but 4, 12, 14 for the female character ask game

im sorry im late holy shit anyways hi zorua! 💜

4. A heroine you love?

EIRIKA FIRE EMBLEM MY BELOVED 🩷🩷🩷 im gonna be honest my memory of sacred stones is hazy, but it was my first dip into gba fire emblem and eirika (and ephraim i suppose but he doesnt make an appearance until a bit into the earlygame) was my introduction to that era of fe and for that she’ll always have a special place in my heart. also spoilers for ss but idk. i dont think she was stupid for handing it over to lyon bc hello? are we forgetting he’s her childhood best friend???? of course she trusts him! “oh but i wouldnt have done that” YOU CAN SEE THE VILLAINS PERSPECTIVE YOU FUCK. SHE CANNOT!!! worst discourse ever. eirika get behind me

12. An interesting female friendship?

i dont know if this counts as friendship or romance (its been a while since i read it and i dont remember if the queerness was real or if i was imagining it) but have you guys ever read the haunting of hill house by shirley jackson. i actually dont want to say too much bc i think everyone should read it. been thinking about rereading it myself! dont tell me anything about the netflix version though. i dont care. itll never be the book and i cried when i googled the title and the first thing that came up was the show. my life is over. yes im an annoying book > tv/movies person sorry

14. An interesting familial relationship with female characters?

iris and dahlia hawthorne from ace attorney. spoilers for aa3 but i think the idea that you can be so loyal and loving to someone the way that iris was to dahlia that you’d go so far as to impersonate her to let her get away with murder is soooo. urrgghhhhhjkjffkeiahdh. and i dont remember they specified but i think the fact that they left it up in the air as to whether or not dahlia actually loved her back is really fun! did dahlia know iris loved phoenix? was it a mercy that she let their relationship go on as long as it did? or just a misguided error that came to bite her in the ass later? i dont know and i love that! theyre so much fun and theyre so interesting and god i need to replay trials and tribulations.

[adverbally]

Face to Face in Secret Places

Written for the @steddiesmuttyseptember prompt “sneaking around” | wc: 1,576 | rated: E | cw: none | tags: set pre-S3, established relationship, in public (school library), fear of getting caught, exhibitionism (but no voyeurism), making out, dry humping, oral sex | title from “A View to Kill” by Duran Duran

———

“Ow, shit!”

“Shh, someone’s gonna hear you!” Steve hisses, covering Eddie’s mouth with his hand.

Eddie jerks his head away and whisper-shouts back, “Then stop hurting me!” The Hawkins High School library apparently has extra-sharp shelves, which Eddie knows because they’re digging into his back where Steve has him pushed into a corner in the reference section. “Plus nobody comes in here during class time and Mrs. Wright already left for her lunch break, like, five minutes ago. Who’s gonna hear?”

Steve rolls his eyes as he leans in for another kiss. Eddie accepts it happily, even if he still hasn’t fully come to terms with the fact that Steve Harrington is ditching class with him so they can make out in the library for the third time this month.

Once “King” Steve was dethroned last fall, Eddie found that Regular Steve wasn’t actually bad company. They got to talking after Tina’s Halloween party, where Steve got so shitfaced that Eddie had to physically peel him off the lawn before he could take him home. Their truce extended to their shared classes as the semester came to a close: Eddie proofread Steve’s essays for English, while Steve walked him through the problem sets for Algebra II. They hung out after school when they didn’t have basketball and Hellfire Club, growing closer by the day.

Steve had made a move first, leaning in for a kiss when Eddie dropped him off after a study session around Valentine’s Day. Now, in March, it was looking like Eddie might actually graduate on his second attempt, as long as Steve didn’t get them both kicked out for dry humping in the library.

Well. Actually, that doesn’t sound so bad right now, with Steve’s tongue hot in Eddie’s mouth and Steve’s thigh pressed between Eddie’s legs and the soft noises Steve’s making as Eddie sticks his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and squeezes.

“Eddie, I swear to god, if you make me come in these pants, I’m never touching you again,” Steve says, burying his fingers in Eddie’s hair like he’s hanging on for dear life.

He laughs in Steve’s ear. “As if you could keep your hands off me.” He licks over the moles just below Steve’s jawline to make him squirm.

“Eddie!”

“Shh,” Eddie teases.

Steve growls in frustration and pulls Eddie’s hair until his mouth is close enough for another kiss. He tastes like Eddie’s cinnamon gum and the can of Coke they had shared at lunch. When Steve slips a hand between them to grope Eddie’s cock through his jeans, Eddie’s head buzzes like carbonation is trapped in it.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes against Steve’s lips.

“Mm-hmm.” The sound travels through Steve’s tongue to vibrate against Eddie’s teeth. It’s a weird feeling but a good one, too, one that has Eddie’s hips bucking up and the shelf behind him jabbing into his kidneys.

He grunts in pain. “Wait, wait one second.” When Steve pulls away, Eddie uses the leverage from his hands in Steve’s back pockets to spin them around, pushing Steve up against the shelves.

“Shit, those are sharp,” Steve says to himself.

Eddie doesn’t respond, too busy sinking to his knees on the ancient carpet and unfastening Steve’s jeans.

“Hold on, Mrs. Wright might be back any minute!”

“We probably have ten minutes, at least. And frankly, I don’t think it’s gonna take that long to get you off.” Eddie pointedly looks down at Steve’s cock tenting his boxers through the open fly of his pants. “So be quiet, keep a lookout, and let me suck your dick, okay?”

Steve’s eyes are wide, almost glowing in the harsh fluorescent lighting, but he doesn’t protest. He nods, brushes some of Eddie’s hair away from his face, and watches intently as Eddie takes the head of his cock into his mouth.

It’s not the first time Eddie has done this with Steve, but it is the first time they’re doing it in public (Eddie’s van doesn’t count as public, does it?). It’s a little thrilling, the idea that anyone could come in here and see Eddie on his knees with Steve Harrington’s cock down his throat. It makes Eddie want to show off.

When Eddie pulls back to lick into his slit, Steve lets out a shuddering moan, hunching over and scrunching a fist in Eddie’s hair like he’s in pain.

“Are you—?” Eddie starts to ask, but Steve quickly cuts him off.

“Don’t stop.”

It’s punctuated by a whine when Eddie does it again, lapping Steve’s precome straight from the source. It tastes even better with Steve trying to muffle his cries with the back of his hand, with him staring down at Eddie like he’s something out of a dream. Eddie looks back at him while he mouths at his tip, flushed bright pink with the need to come.

“Eddie, please, I’m close,” Steve begs in a strained whisper.

He squeezes Steve’s hips in encouragement, then he sinks down as far as he can around his cock. Eddie’s not, like, a professional at this yet, so he can’t deepthroat him or anything, but he takes Steve’s dick deep enough to nudge at the back of his throat without making him gag. He bobs his head slowly, relishing the drag and the wet noises and Steve’s unblinking eyes full of awe and desire.

Steve’s hand tightens in Eddie’s hair. He whispers his name like a prayer, “Eddie. Eddie, Eddie—” He goes quiet when he comes, throwing his head back and staring at the dirty ceiling tiles with his mouth wide open.

Eddie holds Steve’s twitching hips in place against the shelf as he swallows him down. It goes better than his past attempts, with much less choking and spluttering involved, but he still has a little come dribbling down his chin when he gets to his feet.

To his surprise, once they’re standing eye-to-eye again, Steve leans in and licks his own jizz off Eddie’s face before pushing it back into Eddie’s mouth in a filthy kiss. It’s probably the dirtiest, sexiest thing Eddie has ever experienced, and it’s happening in the school library. Incredible.

Steve pulls away, still breathing heavily, to ask, “Did you come?”

Eddie grinds his still-hard cock against Steve’s hipbone. “Not yet,” he responds, a little pointedly. “But unlike you, I don’t care if I come in my pants.”

“Great, that’s great,” Steve babbles, already going in for another kiss and propping his foot on the lowest bookshelf so his thigh is in a better position for Eddie to ride. His leg fits between Eddie’s like it was made for him, the thick muscle surrounded by soft-worn denim providing the perfect amount of friction when Eddie’s hips start to rock.

Steve cradles his face and kisses him with a gentleness that’s at odds with the frantic rutting of Eddie’s hips. They haven’t had a big discussion about their feelings yet but it’s almost like they don’t have to, not when Eddie can feel Steve’s care and affection in every touch. He tries to kiss Steve back with the same intensity, like Eddie can telepathically project how much he likes him with his mouth.

It’s not long before Eddie’s rhythm starts to falter. Steve whispers, “C’mon, baby, come for me,” and Eddie is helpless to resist when Steve’s looking at him with his eyes like liquid honey and his lips shiny with Eddie’s spit.

He buries his groan in the crook of Steve’s neck, biting at the skin just below the collar of his shirt, while his cock spills in his boxers. Steve cradles Eddie’s head against his shoulder and gently runs his fingers through Eddie’s hair while he catches his breath.

Once his heart rate settles, Eddie jokes, “Maybe I should’ve cared a little more about coming in my pants.” He’s sticky and damp enough that he’ll probably skip the rest of his classes for the day so he can go home and change.

Steve tucks himself back into his pants with a smug look. “I tried to share my wisdom and you rejected it. Now you’ll pay the price.”

“Are you going back to class?” Eddie asks. He hopes Steve picks up the underlying invitation to ditch with Eddie.

He tilts his head with a grin. “Geez, you’re clingy,” he teases. “If you don’t want to be without me for the rest of the day, just say so.”

“Mm, how about every day?” Eddie pecks him on the lips.

“I think I could make that work,” Steve says, looping his arms around Eddie’s neck for a final, lingering kiss before they sneak out of the building. “Your car or mine?”

Wayne is home and Steve’s parents are out of town, so it’s a no-brainer for both of them. ”I’ll drive us to your house?” Eddie suggests.

“It’s a date.” Steve smacks his ass as he turns to go out the side door, making Eddie jump. “You better get going if you don’t want to get caught in the hallway between classes.”

“Meet you out there.”

Five minutes later, they’re giggling together in Eddie’s van, giddy with the feeling of getting away with something and being alone together and tangling their fingers together on the gear shift. Eddie can’t stop turning to look at Steve’s face, scrunched up with a smile, and thinking about how much he wants to have this every day for the rest of his life.

[cheriden]

「 my "i love you" 」 | pt. 1 。。。

"You're so pretty, I love you. Brows furrowing, you tuck your mouth behind your teeth. Desperately trying to ignore his whimpers and profanities, you find it difficult as Beomgyu chants the phrase louder like a prayer. "

── synopsis 。Your best friend with benefits (whom you have a crush on) is too sweet in bed

pairing 。switch!top choi beomgyu x f! reader

.ᐟ genre 。angst, smut, mdni!

.ᐟ tags 。friends with benefits, unrequited love, praise kink, missionary so they can argue, a lot of teasing, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it and get tested!), creampie (on pill!), miscommunication, beomgyu's an idiot

.ᐟ status & word count 。two-parts | 3.04k

part 1 | part 2

.ᐟ warnings/notes 。reuploaded because i'm fucking stupid. i do think ppl can be fwb without feelings but mc is a lovergirl for today ☝☝, not really proofread, semi-rushed, beomgyu is kinda dumb, no happy end (yet?)

At some point this arrangement has to end. You know that. He knows it; moreover everyone who knows that you’ve been sleeping with Beomgyu says it. You’re also aware that you should be the one to end it; A friends of benefits situation hinted at by Beomgyu, leading to a proposition started by you. 

He comes over more frequently, showers you in more affection, in addition to subconsciously doing little habits lovers would do. As the patterns start to weave with your everyday life, you start to wonder who gains the most out of this agreement. Of course, such matters shouldn’t be weighed, especially between friends. He gets his release out of a glorified, whiny, pussy mitten, and you get to take a sneak peak of what it would be like to be his. 

It’s not like you’re gonna get more than that.

Naturally, this thought process circulates your mind a lot, its conclusion always left as a draft or with a conflicting thought. Listening to the pitter-patter against the glass pane, you reason with yourself while you send him a text and sink into the bed, thinking, “The aftercare is nice, plus things have gotten stressful lately.” 

All the inward bickering with yourself never lasts, because in the end, a full five minutes pass before three’s knocking on the door. With a heavy mind and body, you drag yourself to the anterior of the studio to unlock it. 

On the other end is a panting brunette, glasses skewed and hair disheveled. Beomgyu brings his hood down, leaves his keys on the shabby table up front, kicking his shoes off beside it. You step away from the door, with him trailing behind you meekly. No words are exchanged, contrast to the obnoxiously loud string of filth when the two of you hook up. Once you enter the bedroom, you immediately fall onto the bed, propping yourself up to the headboard. You study him expectantly, moving to your right and replacing your weight with his own. He scans the room, playing with the hem of your shirt. “You got new sheets.” He starts, voice soft and low while he rests into the junction between your neck and shoulder. “They’re really soft.” With a hum, you move to get on top of him, your legs entrapping him. Simultaneously, you set your weight down on him slowly, and he seals his eyes with a small jerk from his hips. “You really came over to talk about my sheets?” The brunette gives you a small smile, cocking his head to the side. “You seriously texted me just to do nothing?” The other returns, sitting up to meet your form. 

He latches his lips onto your neck, trailing it upwards to kiss the sharp of your jaw. “You’re assuming.” you comment, biting down on the inners of your bottom lip to fend off sound. “We used to hang out all the time before we started fucking.” He stops his kisses to peer at you, his mouth covered in sheen. “You texted me saying, ‘Wanna do it?’ I don’t think I was that far off from what you were planning.” You nod your head, lifting the ends of his shirt, bringing his face back into your neck. In turn, he brings his arms up the small of your back, caressing it before detaching himself once again. “You don’t have a bra on.” He says, like it’s some sort of otherworldly fact. Raising an eyebrow, you respond, “Well yeah, it’s my apartment. Nobody’s home and my top’s frilly enough to hide everything.” He nods, planting a swift peck on your lips, he gives you a bright-eyed smile. “It suits you.”

You don’t know if he’s teasing, or if this is part of the foreplay. You recall wearing the exact same top half a decade ago to see a movie with Beomgyu alone, loose and brand new with a skirt that sat right above the upper quartile of your thigh. You told yourself that it would be the day you confessed to him, or tried to get him to do something in the theater. Instead, he giggled at you, smoothening the sides of your frayed braids, telling you that you dressed silly and clean. You weren’t sure what he was implying about you, but the red hue that had painted on your cheeks that stayed throughout the whole run-time of the movie was enough to get you to quit wearing that top outdoors out of embarrassment. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, pushing the bunched up shirt around you, pulling it above your head. “Nothing” you mumble, yelping when he flips you, hovering above you as he begins to tug at the garter of your shorts. Lifting your ass, the other pulls at the fabric in one swoop. “Don’t get distracted and ignore me.” He pouts, hooking your underwear while the knuckle of his middle finger grazes over your core. “Couldn’t possibly forget,” you huff out, subtly lowering yourself onto his digit, “you’re too annoying—” Cutting yourself off with a gasp, his tongue replaces his finger, giving kitty licks over the cloth. “I’m so annoying I’ll have you screaming my name by the end of this.” He gloats in between breaths, left hand intertwined with yours as the right has its hold on the skin atop your pelvic bone, thumb rubbing circles and drawing patterns. You keep quiet, concentrating on suppressing your noises and grabbing the brunette’s hair. Pulling his face into you, he retracts, kissing the sides of your underwear. “Beomgyu,” you hiss, yanking his head up to study him. “Don’t be a prick.” The brunette gives you another pout, slowly bringing the garment to level with your knees. “But you’re cute when you’re squirming,” he pauses, trailing kisses up to your belly button. “You're also hot when you’re mean.” With a scoff, you shove his head away, and he returns to face your heat. His tongue prods at your entrance; you curse, grinding yourself onto it. “You’re impatient today,” he remarks, rubbing the apple of his cheek against your lower abdomen. “Stop playing around,” You bite back, grasping onto his hair to keep him in place, “you’re not usually this taunting.” Beomgyu sneers, pressing his nose on your clit. “Taunting you? Can’t I just want my baby to feel good?”

The term of endearment causes you to jolt against him. He chuckles, vibrations shooting up your body, draping an arm over your eyes. “Does my baby like it when I call her that?” He asks, to which you nod unconsciously, body writhing as your whines get pitchier. 

Beomgyu gets off on your praise, gets off on seeing just how much you need him. So it's obvious that his next course of action is to stop contact with you altogether, pulling himself back, smirk plastered on his face. “Say it.” He coos, frotting the fabric of his jeans over your bare cunt; the texture makes you writhe. “Say you like being called baby, and that you love it when I go down on you.” A sense of protecting your dignity washes over you. You turn away with your mouth shut as he moans over you. “Never.” 

The other picks up speed, and you clamp the back of your hand against your lips to prevent a whimper. Beomgyu shrugs, paying no mind to your stubbornness. “Guess I'll have to force it out of you.” 

He’s cocky now, but the more he rubs against you, the louder and sloppier he gets. “Don’t cum in your pants over dry humping me, Beomie.” You mock. In return he ends with one last slow grind. “Shut up.”

He relents, mouthing the opening of your core again and lapping it in circles—prying it open with his fingers, tongue moving to suck on the tip. Toes curling, you grip at the headboard as he eats you out. His hips buck at the sheets beneath him, ruining the cloth he was praising a few minutes ago. “I’m close,” you sputter, grip on his strands tightening with little regard for his breathing. 

Beomgyu—the brat that he is, halts the process once more, and you shoot him an annoyed look. “Are you serious right now? Do you not want me to cum?”

He purses his lips as if in thought, leaning to spread kisses over your clavicle. “Tell me that—” “You groan, throwing one of the smaller pillows at him. “Be for real. I’m not doing that shit.” The other pretends to sulk, hands working his way through your body and massaging your breasts. “Fine. Tell me what you want then, since my princess is so impatient and temperamental. You moan at the new nickname, and he doesn’t fail to notice. “I’ll call you all the names you want if you just tell me what you want.”

He’s back to teasing your entrance. Defeated, you tell him as fast as you can, “Need to cum, need you in me.”

Beomgyu tuts, shaking his head. “What’s the magic word?” 

“Now.” You hiss, glare sharp. All he does is smile, kissing you one last time. “Okay, only because you’re so cute and you need me.” You’re not given the time to act all snobbish about his words, thoughts cut off by the sudden moaning at your cunt, Beomgyu trying and succeeding at pushing all your buttons as he sends you to the edge. A long moan exits you as you ride your orgasm out on his face, seeing spots of white as your mind tingles in pleasure. 

The brunette kneels to undo his bottoms with your help, with you kissing the bands of the underwear and carved bone. “Like I said,” he sighs, hands on your shoulders to push you back into the mattress, “Impatient..”

He curses as the tip of his dick runs through the lips of your pussy, rutting it slowly. “You’re so hard,” you coo, cupping a cheek and working his dick to press on you, “You look like you haven’t fucked in—ever.” He whines at your ridicule—but it spurs him more, bucking his hips faster against you. 

Beomgyu’s lids are heavy and his jaw is slack, grunting. “Look at me,” You start, his eyes finding yours as he whimpers, “I thought you were proving just how much I needed you?”

He says nothing, staring at you intently. You ask, “What do you want?” He moans, grinds deeper and paces wider. “Need to fuck you so bad," you tilt your head, encouraging him to say more. 

“Please.” 

You give him the go ahead, and he wastes no time in sliding himself in, his desperation making him seem too excited and clingy. You let out a small laugh, though it’s not long before your prideful smirk is displaced by the other’s mouth. By your command, he thrusts swifter with more depth, moaning into your mouth. 

Your lips leave his, watching the line so spit snap, falling over his own, pink and swollen. “You look so pretty, my baby.”

It’s so confusing to you, intense in a way that it gets you going, yet also in a sense that it’s heartbreaking. You savor the moments he calls you his, even if it's only for a moment. 

“You’re so pretty,” he pants against your temples, short for breath. He clenches his eyes  closed, rolling his hips into you at a painfully slow pace. Your heels dig at the lower portion of his back, urging him to focus on fucking you fast and hard. Beomgyu on the other hand has a different idea in mind. He pulls back, detaching your arms from his, observing the shaft of his cock work its way into your sopping wet cunt. This whole scenario is obscene, dick outlining your stomach when he buries himself into you, pussy clamping on his member, the wet sounds paired with your cries get him off further. “Fuck, I’m close.” He groans, elbows back down near your sides while you cling yourself onto him once more. Thrusts hastier and needier than the last, he mutters something mindlessly—loud enough for you to hear.

“I love you.” 

Brows furrowing, you tuck your mouth behind your teeth. Desperately trying to ignore his whimpers and profanities, you find it difficult as he chants the phrase louder like a prayer. You feel the sting of tears building in your eye sockets. Chalking it up to overstimulation, you direct all your energy to hinder it, but you can’t multitask, the bruise forming on your lips finding a break as you squeeze your eyes shut. Soon enough you’re vocal, something in the middle of wailing and moaning. “Beomgyu,” you sob, yanking his tugging his head back to meet your gaze, “I’m—” Drool trickles down your chin; he swipes it away with his thumb, trailing it with quick open-mouthed kisses. “You’re so pretty.” He repeats, smudging your tears on the sides of your face. “Always pretty when you go dumb on my cock.” He moans, rhythm quivering and sights set on getting you to come one last time before chasing his own release. “I’m close, gonna fill you up.” His thrusts fasten in urgency, hissing when you scratch his back and scream his name, your back arching off the mattress. Your hips set its pace to his, and soon enough you come to the feeling of his own, hot and thick as lava against your walls while the both of you ride out your orgasm.

Regulating your breathing, you wipe your tears before he pulls his head up to gaze at you directly. He looks properly fucked out, but pulls out slowly with kisses across your face to distract you from the feeling, settling beside you instead of keeping on top of you. 

A slurry of emotions plague your mind all at once, an aftershock that feels like it hit the ground too fast, too soon. 

It’s overwhelming—not the good kind of overwhelming you should be feeling when someone tells you they love you, because you know Beomgyu didn't mean it like that. It’s overwhelming in a way that makes you want to gut and lobotomize yourself, cursing about the fact that  you’re feeling such mental and emotional torment over something so trivial.

Mind clearing up a little, you slide the thin duvet up your form; you sit up and clear your throat. “I think we should stop doing this.” You say slowly. The room is still, save for the heavy rain and whirs of the flimsy standing fan. His gaze frantically runs up your body, focusing alternating between your eyes and nothing in particular. His Adam's apple bobs vertically, yet all that comes out of his mouth is one word that teeters on a whisper. “What?” Locking your gaze with his own, you take a shaky breath, “People think we’re dating, Beomgyu. I don’t want this,” you gesture between the two of you, “whatever this is, to get in the way of me finding a potential relationship.” He sinks deeper into the mattress, Gaping at the ceiling. He asks, “Is this so bad?” View following his—you stare at the barren overhead, replying monotonously. “It is if I want to find a loving partner.” “I mean for people to think that we’re dating. Would that be the worst?” He interjects, the air from your lungs thinning out when you stutter. “Piss off.” 

He scoffs, sitting up to match your posture. “It’s not that big of a deal. You get horny, we have sex. That’s it.” You lower your head to shake it. “It is to me. You may not have a problem sticking your dick in anything that moves, but I want to feel wanted.” The bed creaks as he inches his body closer to yours. “Fuck you. I—” You lean back, widening the distance between the two of you. “Don’t start. This is different. I want a loving, meaningful relationship.” “That’s bullshit.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff. “Fuck you.” You spit, beyond aggravated. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with it these past months.” He retorts; you start clenching the plush blanket at your sides, knuckles turning white. After a few beats, you speak up again. “I think we should just be friends.” You watch him gnaw at the lower half of his lips, nodding his head. “Wait, Is it because I said that I love you?” He starts, “because, I don’t ‘love you’ love you. That was a heat-of-the moment, middle-of-sex ‘love you’.” 

You render yourself taciturn, silence thickening as time passes. You hold yourself back from saying words you know you wouldn’t be able to take back, Fixating on counting the droplets resting on the window. His hands sneak up and move your face to look at him, coaxing his forehead against yours after planting a delicate peck on the wrinkles.

“I don’t love you. Promise.” 

Beomgyu brushes his lips on the corners of your own, thumbing circles gently across your cheeks. “You have nothing to worry about.” 

His grasp on you has gone icy and numbing, matching the cool of the downpour as your mind tunes into its melancholic static. 

since this is a reup, i've decided to take the results from the deleted post, which was a landslide vote anyway. thank you to those who helped me reach 200+ notes and who reblogged, i would have lost this fic otherwise:)

thank you for reading! feedback, reblogs and tags appreciated♡

[deathbyday]

˚ 𖥔˚Anya x implied f!Reader - sticking up for her˚ 𖥔˚

Written By: DeathByDay

+++

You sat around the lounge room’s table with the rest of the crew. Anya sat to your left, her hands intertwined with yours on her thigh. Swansea was just right across from you, Daisuke beside him. Curly and Jimmy sat on the ends of the table, staring at each other.

You all had just gotten word from Curly that Pony Express has finally shut down and this would be the last time the crew was together. Everyone became upset at the news, rightfully so, but Jimmy was angry.

He ranted about how Curly was selfish and heading for “bigger and better” than the five of you. You raised a brow, realizing how idiotic this fight between the two became.

You weren’t going to say anything about it, but that backfired when Jimmy began going around the table stating everyone’s struggles. And of course, he just had to start with your girlfriend.

“Anya never got into medical school because she’s, well, let’s be real..” He trailed off, glancing at the poor girl. He turned to you and opened his mouth to speak, but you immediately cut him off.

“Oh, fuck you, Jim!” You shouted, slamming your hands on the table and standing up. You pointed a finger towards him, continuing on. “You don’t have any right to go around the table saying that shit. What about you? Why don’t you share with all of us what Curly meant by a ‘struggle of a life’?”

You glared at the man, your eyes full of hatred. His brows furrowed even more as he stood up, his voice rising to match your energy.

“Who the fuck do you think you are to shout at me like that?” He yelled, his body acting like it was ready to pounce on you. “Don’t ignore my question!” You replied, voice raising. Everyone else stayed silent, watching the two of you argue.

That was until you eventually ran around Anya’s chair and slapped the brunette across the face, causing him to push you. You gripped his hair and slammed him into the ground with all your force, not thinking about how much more strength he had than you.

You two continued fighting, punches and kicks being thrown around. Daisuke had his hand clasped around his mouth in shock, looking like he was about to burst into tears and giggle like a kid.

Curly got up from his seat and shouted at the both of you in attempt to stop the fight, but failed miserably. As his attempted failed, Swansea stood up and grabbed you from underneath your arms and dragged you back, stopping the chaos.

“C’mon, kid!” He muttered a bit loudly, struggling as you fought back. Anya stood by the older man, a few tears in her eyes. As Swansea let you go, you were about to pounce on the brunette once again, but your girlfriend held you down by placing her hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N, stop!” She scolded, her grip tightening. You glanced up at the woman, obeying her order. You turned back towards Jimmy, seeing his face bruised up. You lightly chuckled, knowing that you fucked his face up.

Anya helped you up before dragging you away from everyone, walking to the medical room.

“Baby, I’m fine..” You muttered, dragging out your words as if you were pouting. She shook her head, concern written all over her face. “No, you aren’t. Your face is all bruised, not to mention the blood coming out of your nose.” She replied. She seemed mad, but her features told a different story.

After a few seconds of walking, you finally got to the medical room. You sat down in the red chair beside her desk, waiting for her to get the supplies to help you. She quickly grabbed them and set them down on the table.

She brung a few tissues that were wrapped around each other and pressed them against your nose, stopping the bleeding. You groan, feeling the red liquid drop onto your lip. “You shouldn’t have done that.” She mumbled, shaking her head in disappointment.

“But he came at you for no reason! I can’t just not step in.” You defend yourself, slightly giggling as you recall his bruised face. She sighed, taking the tissue away from your nose.

She then grabbed an ice pack, placing it against your cheek. You grumble, squirming in your seat at the new temperature. “Do you really think this is necessary? I swear, I’m fine.” You pout, feeling uncomfortable as she held you in place.

“This is necessary. If we don’t get this treated, the bruising can get worse.” She explained, gently tapping the ice around your face. You nod, taking a glance around the room as she did so.

After a few minutes, she pulled away, causing you to turn to her. “Did I do good?” You murmur, hoping for her praise. She fights back a smile and gives you a light chuckle. She places her hands on her hips before exhaling, the worry in her face gone.

“You did great, honey. Just please promise me you won’t pick a fight with anyone else? We really don’t need you getting fired.” She smiles down at you, bending over and giving you a light kiss on your forehead before leaving the room, taking the ice pack and extra tissue with her to deal with Jimmy.

+++

authors note

I’m so sorry if this isn’t as good as you were expecting, my eyes are literally fighting to stay open💔

But thank you for the request!! I appreciate it very much<3

[gloomwitchwrites]

hi!!! i literally started reading your blog and FR YOU HAVE TALENT. Got me giggling and kicking my feet cus of that girl dad!tf141 fics.

I was reading one of the links you put in for prompt ideas and I read that one six words sentence from link five: "I can't risk losing you again." hello?? potential angst to fluff?? I couldn't get it off my head and i was wondering if you could write something from it :>

Thank you so much! That's so sweet of you! I'm so glad you enjoyed reading the Just Like Dad stories. I had a lot of fun writing them.

"I can't risk losing you again" is such an open-ended prompt. There is a lot you can do with that. I hope my humble offering is enough. I certainly went more angst than fluff on this one, but I really do love sad things with twinges of hope thrown in.

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, mild blood, non-graphic mentions of violence, angst, fluff, pregnancy, mentions of pregnancy complications

Simon "Ghost" Riley: An enemy of Simon's harms you, forcing Simon to make a tough decision. (wc: 315) Kyle "Gaz" Garrick: Kyle decides there is only one way to keep you close. (wc: 323) John Price: Price worries after you tell him you're pregnant when the first pregnancy had complications. (wc: 329) John "Soap" MacTavish: Johnny learns that falling in love with a teammate can only lead to sorrow. (wc: 542)

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Busted door. Shattered glass. Overturned table.

The lights aren’t working and rain enters through the open patio door. You are safe and whole and far from this. But is it enough? Will Simon be able to keep you safe?

What was once doubt is now cold truth.

It’s not your trashed home but the state Simon found you in. It was your heavy-lidded eyes and bruised face. It was the pools of red that Simon didn’t know belonged to you, the dead man facedown in the carpet, or both. It was your smile of relief when you realized it was Simon drawing you into his arms.

Simon knows the man who did this—no. He knows who fucking ordered it.

And when he finds Makarov, he’ll show that fucker just how trigger-hungry he can be. The lead will burst and fuse to his lungs, and Simon will bathe in the aftermath.

All that’s left is your safety. If Simon knew that his career would lead to this, he would have taken steps to protect you years ago. You are always his one bright spot, that candle in the dark that is his life.

With you, he became more than his trauma. More than his guilt. More than his past. With you, he found peace. He found happiness. You are the sugary candy that sticks in the teeth but is too addictive to give up.

Departing is agony. The return is his reward and his longing.

You are everything.

And that is why he let you go.

Why he said, “I can’t risk losing you again.”

He put his head in your lap, his fingers digging into the sides of your thighs and failed to push down the tears.

Laswell will take you far away. She will keep you somewhere safe.

Makarov won’t find you.

And maybe—perhaps in the future—Simon can return to you.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle is a nervous wreck.

The tiny box sits heavy in his pocket, burning an invisible hole. His plan is not the most romantic, but the two of you aren’t the type to go big. It’s all subtle, and Kyle only wants this moment to include the two of you.

This is his last chance.

Kyle’s final opportunity.

In this relationship, Kyle has kept you second. Not on purpose but out of habit. Work is his lifeblood. It drives him, and every successful mission is a point of pride. But in keeping up with that, Kyle left you behind.

His absences lengthened, and over time, he noticed you were pulling away, closing off. But that isn’t your fault. Kyle created the perfect brew for you to drink. These are the consequences of his actions, and he needs to make it right.

There was a time when Kyle nearly did lose you. When he came home and thought you had packed up and left without saying a word. That broke him. Made him realize just how distant he’d become.

Change is difficult.

But Kyle did it. Slowly.

Your smile returned, and when he comes home, your greetings are full of passion.

I can’t risk losing you again.

Kyle takes a deep breath as the deadbolt on the front door disengages. There is a slight tremble in his hands. Kyle is never nervous. Never. But fuck—taking this next step is driving him up the goddamn wall.

He pushes off from the couch, turning just as the front door swings open.

You step inside, face turned away as you go to shut the door. When you finally glance into the room, all the nervousness inside Kyle’s chest evaporates.

Your smile is so sweet, and you don’t hesitate. Dropping your bag, you rush toward him, and Kyle cannot help but meet you halfway.

He’s making the right choice in asking you to stay with him forever.

John Price

“You’re not happy.”

John is happy. He is. But old worries bubble up, seeping into the joy. It’s tainting everything, and that is clear by how your smile starts to fade.

“I am happy,” he says, but his mouth is a hard line. John knows he’s frowning.

You shake your head, one hand resting over your stomach. “Don’t lie, John.”

This is supposed to be a happy moment. He should sweep you up in his arms. He should kiss you until you’re begging for air. But all John can think about are all the doctor appointments he attended with you, and the grimness of what might not happen.

From that came a daughter. John loves her. Adores her. But bringing her into the world nearly killed you. He grappled with that stress while being as present as possible with you. Growing your family has always been a dream, and John doesn’t fault you for a second. There is no family without you.

John grasps the sides of your face and moves into your space. Your own hands close over his, keeping him from retreat.

“I am happy,” he reiterates. “But we both know what it took to bring our daughter into the world.” John shakes his head absently and breathes deep. “Don’t do this for me.”

“John—”

“I can’t risk losing you again.”

This time, your smile returns. There is a hint of sadness lingering behind it, as if you too are reflecting on all that happened.

“Everything will be fine.” You release his hand and gently cup his cheek.

John kisses your forehead, his thumb absently tracing your jaw. “Are you sure?”

The decision is ultimately yours, and John will respect whatever you decide.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he nods.

John pulls you in, lips finding yours. When you melt into him, accepting all that he’s giving, a wave of peace settles over him.

This is right.

And whatever happens, the two of you will face it together.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny drips water all over the floor. He is soaked through. Shivering. But he could give a fuck.

“Where is she?”

“Soap—”

“Where the fuck is she, Price?”

Captain Price sighs heavily and crosses his arms. “She needs rest.”

Johnny swallows down his retort. He’s not upset with Price, and shit like this happens all the time, but he needs to know if you’re okay.

You took a fucking bad fall, and Johnny couldn’t stop to run after you. The mission comes first, and it wasn’t his job. Other people stepped in and whisked you away. But from the height you plummeted from, Johnny feared the worst.

Still does to an extent.

If you were dead, Price wouldn’t hide that from him. But he might hide how bad you’re injured as a way to protect him. Price has always been fatherly in that regard. Right now, it’s driving Johnny fucking nuts.

“Captain. Please,” Johnny clenches his fists and then releases them. “Let me see her.”

Price’s frown smooths a bit and the middle of his brow wrinkles with concern. “For a few minutes. All I can spare.”

Johnny has to keep from rushing to the hospital room doorway when the words leave Price’s mouth. He has Johnny walk with him to your door. Thunder rumbles in the distance and rain steadily hits the large window at the far end of the hospital room.

Just as Johnny takes a step inside, Price’s hand is on his shoulder.

“She’ll make it,” is all he says before he shuts the door.

Johnny lingers right inside. All the lights are off except a small lamp in the corner. Your eyes are closed, and your face is peaceful. There is bruising. A few bandages. The machines next to the bed beep softly.

He was so eager—so determined to get to you. Now, Johnny deflates.

On quiet feet, he grabs a chair and brings it over to your bedside. You don’t stir. Simply sleep. Johnny eases down into the chair and leans forward, his forearms crossed as he rests them on the side of the hospital bed.

Still, you don’t move. And Johnny doesn’t dare wake you.

Rest is important, and all he wants is for you to recover.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “That I didn’t come sooner.” The rain picks up and Johnny smooths back his wet hair. “But I can’t keep doing this. Every time you’re hurt I—” He sighs heavily and rests his forehead on his crossed arms.

“I can’t risk losing you again,” he murmurs into the bedding.

It’s become too much. You’re not supposed to fuck your coworkers and you shouldn’t fall in love with them either. But Johnny did both. With you. And he cannot take that back.

He’d give anything if you’d set this all aside.

Your fingers brushing against his scalp startle him. Johnny lifts his head, only to find you watching him. There is a soft smile on your lips, and his instinct is to grasp your hand and bring it to his lips, kissing each knuckle and then your palm.

The moment your mouth opens to speak, there is knock at the door. Johnny frowns and looks up, finding Price in the doorway.

“Time’s up.”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @miaraei

@coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @pearljamislife

@miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff

@berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf

@lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien

@sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d

@heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria

@lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic

@suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior

[shushmal]

merman steve pt 2

a continuation of this for @spectrum-spectre, now with some pre-steddie~!

Henderson is skulking around in the cereal aisle when Eddie spots him.

The kid has been a bit of enigma to Eddie since he met him at the beginning of last fall semester. Dustin had a tight group of friends, but often times, he caught the gang of them sans Henderson and the fact seemed to annoy the hell out of them.

"He just goes off on on his own sometimes," Baby Beyers would say.

"He won't tell anyone where or why or with who," Mini Wheeler would snarl.

"And it's definitely not to talk to his girlfriend, because we hear ALL about that," Big Sinclair would sigh, rolling his eyes.

So catching kid creeping around the grocery store minus the rest of his party, after hearing many complains of his mysterious disappearances? Color Eddie intrigued.

"Hendersooon," Eddie sang, wrapping an arm around Dustin's neck to keep him from escaping. "Whatcha doing?"

"Eddie!" he said brightly, grinning at him. "Just buying some snacks. Hey, which cereal do you think a fish can eat?"

Eddie stares at him for a moment, blinking. "Uh..."

Henderson's face scrunches up. "I guess he's not really a fish though, so I'll try whatever." He grabs a box of Honey Combs from the shelf.

"Dude, are you keeping a sea turtle at your house again? You know that's illegal."

"No!" Henderson snaps, flushing. "And I was going to take Dart back after show and tell, I had already promised Steve!"

"Steve?" That was a new name. Eddie hadn't heard Henderson talk about a Steve before, and the guy was kind of a motormouth and a terrible liar. The only time Eddie had seen him actually avoid a topic was when his little disappearing acts were brought up. "Who's Steve?"

Henderson's eyes go comically wide. "No-one! I don't know any Steves!"

Eddie knew at least three Steves, and two were in Henderson's grade. "Uh-huh."

"Anyways," Dustin says, clutching the box of Honey Combs to his chest as he backs down the aisle. "I gotta go man, nice seeing you, bye!"

Bemused, Eddie watches him go. He's planning to give Henderson a five minute head start before he goes to tail him, but apparently, he needn't to have planned a stake out after all. Henderson finds him again, two aisles over, panting and red-faced.

"Actually, can you give me a ride?"

🧜‍♂️

"Eddie," Henderson says, voice even more serious and deadly than the time the party took on Vecna last month during their campaign. "I need you to swear that you will never, ever tell anyone about what I'm going to show you."

Eddie cocks a brow at him. "Is this a drugs thing? Dude, you—"

"No!" Henderson snaps. "This is not a drug thing! This is a very serious life and death thing, and I need you to swear on you life you won't tell anyone about it."

"Dude," Eddie says, a little in awe. He stares out his windshield for a moment where they're still parked just outside of town. He can hear sounds of the ocean just past the ridge, waves crashing on the cliffs. It's a remote little area, opposite of the tourist favored beaches. Eddie, in fact, deals just a few miles down the shoreline from here. "Did you bring me out here to kill me? Are you the world's dorkiest serial killer?"

"Eddie." Eddie turns to look at him. His face is grave, brows furrowed with real worry. "I'm serious."

"Okay... Okay, then."

"You have to swear."

"I swear."

And just like that, Henderson's face breaks into a bright smile. "I knew I could trust you!" he crows, grabbing up his bag from the store and kicking open his door.

Eddie stumbles out of his van after him, listening intently as they pick their way over the rocks.

"He's so cool, Eddie, you're going to love him. He totally saved my life when I was like ten and I got pulled out on a rip tide. Like, I really almost died dude and then he just swims up out of no where and helps me catch my breath. Helps me float there while I'm freaking out too until the life guard finally came out to get me. It was crazy! I come out here all the time to visit him, I think he gets a little lonely. So it's good you're here, I've been trying to think of someone else to introduce him to, but it's hard to figure out who's going to freak out and try to sell him to Sea World, or something."

They crest over the hill to a tiny little cove bitten out of the rocky shore, and carefully begin to make their way back down to the water's edge. Eddie's still not entirely sure Henderson hasn't brought him here to die. Maybe Steve is the serial killer and he uses Henderson as bait.

"Okay, okay," Dustin says, once they reach the water. It's calmer here, the cliffs cutting this spot off from the larger waves. "Are you ready to see the coolest thing EVER?"

"Uh, sure, kid—"

Eddie doesn't get the chance to finish his sentence when he starts yelling.

"STEVE THIS IS EDDIE I BROUGHT HIM TO MEET YOU I PROMISE IT'S SAFE!"

"Jesus Christ," Eddie hisses, covering his ears. The lungs on this kid! "What the fuck dude— WHAT THE FUCK!!"

Because when he looks down, there is a face in the water. Eddie falls back on his ass, uncaring of the water soaking his jeans, and screams when the face in the water rises up out the ocean.

It looks pissed.

"Dustin," it says, glaring at Eddie. Eddie screams again, because it—the guy—the mermaid lifts himself fully onto the rocks, and he doesn't have any legs. Because he has a fucking tail.

A fucking fish tail.

"Steve!" Dustin cheers. "You came out."

"You sure?" the goddamn mermaid asks, finally taking his piercing, alien eyes off of Eddie to look at him. "Sure it safe?"

"Absolutely," Dustin says hastily, crouching beside Eddie to put his hands on his shoulders. "Eddie just screams a lot, I promise you, he's totally safe."

"R-Right," Eddie says, because he does not want to be eaten. Maybe Dustin's been dragging unsuspecting victims here to feed his pet goddamn mermaid instead of a serial killer. "Totally safe, that's me."

Steve, the goddamn fucking mermaid, looks him up and down doubtfully, and it's terrifying having those eyes on him, unnaturally yellow surrounded by black. His face is distressingly human, nose and mouth and ears with a mop of dark hair on his head. He has these bright shimmering scales across his cheekbones that dot down his jaw and neck, iridescent and glimmering in the afternoon sun. Eddie can't bring himself to look down further, scared and enraptured all at once.

Steve is terrifying and beautiful to look at.

"Fine," says Steve and pushes himself gracefully back into the water, disappearing into the dark depths.

"What the fuck," Eddie breathes. He looks up at Dustin with wide eyes. "Dude, what the fuck."

Dustin just grins down at him. "Isn't he the coolest?!"

[pick-me-up-im-scared]

Call Me When You Need Me (Ellie Williams x Reader) (Fluff)

Short Summary: When your best friend Ellie has problem sleeping you come over to help her. Like you always do!

Author´s Note: Another random idea I got that I thought would be waaay shorter. It´s not that long, but it's longER than I planned to. Istg, the universe wants me to write +5k fanfics. Everythime I come up with an idea for a blur (cause they're way quicker to write) I end up adding so much to it you can't even call it that. Anyway, hope you'll enjoy just a super cute little story! (I'm the person who tries to fill the "ellie x reader"-tag with stuff that isn't smut. Like I didn't just post two smuts right after each other a week ago.................)

Also! Ellie lives in the same house as Joel in this. Even though I'm well aware she has her own "hut" in the game

Words: 1473

(Pictures aren´t mine! I found them on Pinterest)

The empty streets felt oddly peaceful as you wandered down the oh, so familiar road. Only the streetlights lighting up your path as your sleepy feet stumbled on the sidewalk. It wasn’t unusual to find you walking down these streets at 3 am. You found yourself in this situation a little too often. Not that you complain! When your best friend needs you, she needs you. The crispy night air forced you to cross your arms in order to keep some warmth. Despite being near fall you decided to skip out on a jacket and just go with your outwashed hoodie. Big mistake. But it’s not that bad. Though you’d lie if you´d say you didn’t miss your warm, cozy bed. Just the thought was enough to put a drowsy smile on your face. You continued to kick rocks you stumbled upon on the sidewalk as you, trying to not hit any of the parked cars beside you, cause you know.......karma. Soon you noticed the familiar fence you helped painting white one summer. By the looks of it, it could use a little touch-up. Getting onto the lawn you quickly made your way to the back. The house was completely pitch black apart from one single window on the right corner.

You walked over to the corner of the porch, making sure to sneak a few glances through the dark windows, just to make sure Joel wasn’t up to grab a glass of water or something. But you’re just met with your own reflection in the surprisingly clean windows. You jumped up on the fence that tastefully decorated the porch to reach the edge of the roof. You took a sturdy grip around the aged wood before pushing yourself up the brick plated surface. This was nothing new to you. It was more of a routine. Getting called over to your friends house at least five times a week you kinda start to come up with a few tricks to make your arrival more smooth. Why are you climbing the house like you're a fucking monkey? you may as. The first time Ellie called me over you both thought Joel would be pissed if he knew. So you came up with the brilliant idea, with your life at risk, to climb up from the back. Yes, Ellie tired to prevent you from doing it, but you're too stubborn. She knows that damn well. And yes, you're pretty sure you've got a six-pack from all the times you've pushed your whole body onto the porch roof. But by the morning neither of you considered Joel's daily visit. So when he came to tell Ellie it's breakfast he was sure surprised to see you laying there, holding her. But he wasn't mad.....not at all. And when it was time for you to leave he made sure to throw out "You can take the door next time!". Despite that you continued to take your not-so-convenient way into Ellie's room. You saw it more as a fun thing, and you like to believe Ellie enjoys to too. Even thought she mumbled a "You're so dumb" before giving you a welcome hug.

You carfully got up from your crunched up position, being careful not to strainght out your back too much or you'll probably fall down and break your neck. At this height you could outline more details in the only lit up room, as if you didn’t know it by memory. You noticed the small crack Ellie always made sure to leave every night incase she got the urge that’s currently the reason you’re here. She didn’t want to have to get up and open it when you got there. Also, she’s been very clear that you can come over whenever you feel like it. Day as night. You used your finger to loop around the thick glass and push it up enough to give you the opportunity to get a better grip. You slid the glass into the slit, just enough to squeeze yourself through. The noice made Ellie quickly turn her head from her position on her bed. Just the look of you made her smile. "You came!" she happily exclaimed. You giggled "Of course! You said you had problem sleeping”.

Your beaten up sneakers barely got to touch the floor before Ellie threw herself at you, slamming you into the nearby wall. She continued to hug you, tighten up her grip. You chuckled, "Hey, hey! You shouldn't try to mush me like ground beef. Who´s gonna keep you company then?". Ellie let go off you and took a step back, giving you the chance to get away from the wall. "I'm sure you can take it" she snarky remarked "Weren't you the one who's got a six-pack" she sarcastically asked while slapping her hand against your clothed stomach. "Ow!" you screaked while backing way from her hand. Ellie just chucked before making her way back to her bed, signaling you to take place beside her. You let the strap of your backpack slide down your arms before leaving it by the end of Ellie's bed, to then quickly kick off your lazy tied shoes before crawling up the comfy bed.

You let out a deep sigh as your back hit the mattress, "I´ve told you to just call me whenever you need me". "I know" Ellie mumbled before looking to the side, "But you deserve to sleep too". "I never sleep as good as I do in your bed" you reassured her as. She smiled a little, but she wasn't convinced. She's tried to fall asleep by herself when she has one of these...nights, but it's impossible! There's been times where she hasn't called you even thought she should have. Just cause she feels bad for forcing you out of bed. She never told you this or you'd kill her. She's lost count of all the times you've told her to just call you when she feels down or can't sleep.

You place your hands behind your head, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers Ellie swore she'd get rid off, but hasn't "had the time to". But you swore she was lying. She's always been such a bad liar. But you think it's adorable, so you don´t mind. "I swear I'm getting us a house someday. That way you wouldn't have to call me whenever you have problem sleeping", Ellie smirked at you. "Yeah?" she asked while shooting herself closer to your laying from. "Yep! Then you could just come over to my room" you frowned a little "Or we might share the same bedroom...". You shrug "Or I mean, we're sleeping in the same bed now, so we could save a lot of money if we just get one". Ellie smiled at the thought but soon her face fell a little "How would that work when you bring a girl over?". You shot your head to give her a confused face "What the fuck, Ellie?" you grabbed a pillow from behind you to hit her playfully "I don´t even bring that many girls over!". "Suuure" Ellie playfully rolled her eyes while wearing that shit-eating grin.

You huffed before pushing her back against the bed so you could straddle her. Ellie had to stop herself from blushing at the sudden contact, but she's pretty sure you'd still notice if you weren't busy continuing hitting her with the pillow. You giggle "You play me out to be some type of slut!". She just shrugged "Maybe you are". You huffed once more, louder this time, before getting off Ellie's lap with a defeated look. "Fuck you, Ellie" you mumbled before throwing the pillow at her. She just laughs as she catches it and put it back to its original place. "Should we get to bed now? You know, the reason I'm here?". "Oh!" Ellie quickly adjusted herself "Yeah, that'd be nice". You grabbed the cover that was messily tossed to the side and placed it over you to. "You want me to read you a bed time story?". Ellie laughed "Fuck you, (y/n)". You smirked as you reached over her to turn off the lamp on her beside table. The feeling of your body being pressed against her made it hard for Ellie to focus, but thank god you soon got back to your previous position behind her.

You wrapped your arms around her frame before pulling her into your embrace. Transferring your warmth onto her. “You don’t have to come here every time, you know?” Ellie clarified. “No, I know” you answered “But I want to” you added before burring your face in the nape of her neck, automatically squeeze her torso a little tighter. Ellie couldn’t help but release a relaxed sigh, finally at peace.

[dancingdonatello]

2012 Leo X Fem Reader Leo just being the gentleman he is to his queen. Like literally the biggest gentleman. Like holds the door open when their walking, helps them get down from something, like everything he could possibly do he does

2012 leo x reader

Your turtle boyfriend had more manners than most human men you’d met in your life time.

You smiled at him as he opened a door for you, even if it was the door of an abandoned Kraang lab. A normal date location for sure. To be fair, it was the only place you two could really go together that wasn’t the lair.

He led you to an empty room that was filled with a bunch of candles. You weren’t sure if their purpose were to be romantic or just a way to light up the room since there was no other light source available.

He had dragged in a table, it was obvious with the deep scratch marks in the floor that lined up with the table’s legs, and had two chairs facing each other.

He waited for you to walk over and pulled out the chair you had chosen for you. “Thanks!”

You both jumped as a piece of the ceiling came crashing down onto the floor next to the table. He laughed nervously and kicked it the debris into a pile under the table. You used it as a dirty foot test. Good thing you had worn your old sneakers.

He set a half broken picnic on the table and rooted through it, having to almost stick his head inside to be able to see with how dark it was.

After you two ate, he seemed pretty bummed out and ready to go. He helped you back through the broken glass you two had to pass to get to the chosen room, holding your arm to help balance you as you tried to step on the empty spots.

“Something wrong?” You asked as he lead you the way back to your home through a bunch of secluded alleyways where it was almost certain no one would see you too. You never had to even think about the twists and turns, he never minded that you never knew the way he had shown you hundreds of times. He’d show it to you over and over, as long as it gave him more time with you.

“No,” he sighed, frowning at all the trash thrown everywhere. He shoved some aside with his foot to clear your path. “I just wish… This could be different.”

“How come?” You frowned up at him, grabbing onto his arm to stop him from walking. He turned to face you, head angled downwards to look at you.

“You deserve to be at a restaurant or something.” He grabbed the hand that was on his arm and held it in his three fingered one. “Not in an empty Kraang base.”

“But I can’t go to a restaurant with you… only the one with Murakami.”

“Exactly.” He gave you a pointed look. You frowned at him and forced your fingers to interlock with his. Yes, it felt weird and awkward but who cares?

“Even if some jerk head took me to a five star restaurant, I probably wouldn’t have had the same experience as going to some weird, jank, abandoned building with you. I haven’t met anyone as thoughtful as you yet, Leonardo.”

You pressed an angry kiss to his cheek and he stared at you, confused at the mixed signals coming off of you.

“Seriously, Leo, I don’t think you realize how good I got it!” You started to walk and swung your hands back and forth between the two of you, giggling as he gave you an odd look. “I mean it!”

“If you say so…” He tugged you closer to his side to avoid you stepping in a puddle you hadn’t noticed.

He had not a clue in the world, did he?

[raven-cincaide]

Boyfriend! Megumi’s worst enemy wasn’t cute boys trying to whisk you away or party girls who urged a naive little you into (fun) trouble - even if there was plenty of that for him to worry about as well. No, his worst enemy was gifting you a gift.

Boyfriend! Megumi has pried himself on being a smart gift giver. Bragged how easy giving gifts came to him: he always gave his friends what they needed to make their lives easier, better, and more practical. A gimmicky pair of slippers to Yuji after Goto stole his favourite ones; a handheld portable sewing machine for Nobera after she (again!) threw a fit over the tiniest of holes in her newly bought trademark sweater, a posh grinding stone for Maki and a half-joking visit to a fancy Sushi restaurant for Inumaki-senpai after which he expanded his vocabulary with half a dozen new sushi-related words! Yet when it came to you, he was stooped.

Boyfriend! Megumi hated that he was so uncertain about what to get You. Something practical felt too cheap, like he reduced your place in his life to ‘just friends’; jewellery felt thoughtless and impersonal. All those pretty skincare and make-up sets bore the same thoughtless touch while also posing the risk of you taking his gift as a critique. On the other hand, clothes felt too personal and posed the risk of making the entire interaction awkward if he guessed your size, style, and design wrong. Damnit. 

Boyfriend! Megumi pushed aside several neatly wrapped boxes, making them tumble off his bed to be forgotten on his for-once-messy floor. His attention turned to the remaining similar boxes of different shapes and sizes, all individually wrapped in various papers, with only bows and rosettes to tell them apart. What about a spa weekend? Everyone liked those things, right? Or a date night? Or maybe... 

Boyfriend! Megumi barely noticed his dorm room door creek open and your soft padding of plush socks against his wooden floors. He barely hid a smile as you snuck up in front of him and waved your hand in his face. As if he wouldn’t notice you. Then, in the middle of your wave, you noticed all the gifts that littered his bed, 

"Ohh! Are we wrapping gifts? Is that why you called me? But it looks like you’re already done-" 

"-Pick a number", Megumi cut you off, not looking at you. 

Boyfriend! Megumi tried not to jump out of his skin from the nerves or too obviously chew the inside of his cheek as you stared at him with those huge owl-like eyes, as you processed his words. 

“ehhhh? Okay.. 3, I guess?” you sounded uncertain, almost afraid, as if trying to guess what kind of psychological game or scare tactic he was playing. Or what were you supposed to do with the neatly wrapped flat box he placed in your hands? Your tense shoulders and half-bent knees conveyed that you expected the box to turn into a jump scare at any second. 

Boyfriend! Megumi made a mental note to kick Yuji’s ass for showing you Human EarthWorm three. He better not think about showing you the fifth one, lest you become too scared of your own damned shadow. 

Boyfriend! Megumi makes a motion for you to open the gift.

“Is it.. for me?” you asked, and he has to bite back a sarcastic reply. Instead, he merely nodded. He waited with batted breath as you slowly unravelled a signed copy of the newly released book in your favourite series, silently praying that you haven’t bought it yet. When you squealed in delight and jumped on his neck, Megumi knew you hadn't and breathed a sigh of relief. He quickly wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close. He felt like he had aged five years trying to pick a gift for you. 

Boyfriend! Megumi felt proud of himself as you thanked him for the millionth time. “You’re welcome,” he said, kissing your forehead. “You can have another one later,” he added before he could stop himself. 

You pause mid-cheer as the penny drops: “ Wait? If this is gift 3, then are there more gifts? How many more?” 

“Later” Boyfriend! Megumi responded with a hint of a playful smile on his lips. The kind that said that you might just have to work a little bit for those other gifts… 

[irisintheafterglow]

he's the death you chose (you're in terrible danger)

summary: married life with husband!gojo means cleaning up bodies at 2am.

wc: 1k

cw/tags: mentions of violence, blood, and deaths (nothing graphic), mild angst/comfort with happy ending, some swearing, yes this is the albatross coded

note: honestly not sure where this came from! was just listening to ttpd and thought about what being married to gojo realistically would be like (aka always being targeted as his weakness that it becomes routine). hope you like it :)

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

Wise men once said, “Don’t sleep with your windows open,” and you should have listened to them. If you had, there wouldn’t be three dead mercenaries in your living room, and another somewhere in your kitchen. There were five, originally, but you figured the last one was being hunted down a hallway as he tried to escape your building. The blood-spotted microwave’s clock reads 2:08 when you glance at it to grab cleaning supplies from the cupboard. 2:10 is when Satoru re-enters the apartment and kicks off his shoes. 

“I called Ijichi; he’s sending over cleaners right now,” he says, carefully stepping around the blood and curse guts splattered on the floorboards. Stray drops of who knows what speckle the photos on the bookshelf and he wipes them with his sleeve, scowling. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” 

“Yeah, there’d probably be less of a mess,” you admit, wiping down the kitchen island and guiding the crumbs and dust into the trash. “But they’d still be dead, so I guess it doesn’t really matter in the end.” 

“You handled yourself pretty well for being out of the country for a few months,” he adds appreciatively, retrieving the carpet cleaner from under the sink and sprinkling it onto the living room floor. “I still think it’d be better if you lived on-campus, though.” He squints in the pale moonlight at the pile of abrasive powder and decides to dump a little bit more for good measure. 

“I know–Hey, what’d I tell you about wasting the carpet cleaner? A little goes a long way, remember?” Satoru sets the tube down and puts his hands up in surrender, reaching back and tightening his blindfold before he approaches you in the kitchen. “I can hear your thoughts as they make their way to your mouth, dear.” 

“Look, I know what you’re gonna say–”

“Don’t ask what you’re about to ask, then, if you already know the answer,” you interject with that lightning-quick wit he adored so much. You move to grab the broom from next to the fridge, but he gently catches your wrist and turns you to face him. 

“You’d be safer there,” he continues and you pull your lips into a tight line. 

“Only place I’m safe is wherever I'm with you, realistically.” You had a point. In any other circumstance, the sentiment would be sweet if it wasn’t horribly true. You’d heard time and time again from Satoru how he stared restlessly at the ceiling, anxious about what danger might be coming wherever you were. He theorizes that the higher-ups promoted you to spite him, to have you travel even more often than he was and visit more places across the globe than any seasoned sorcerer would be comfortable with. Phone calls weren’t enough to verify that you were safe; he had to see you, feel you, know you were alive. “This is, what, the second time this month? The first time was when I came back from Paris, right?”

“I don’t think that was this month. It might’ve been the last week of the month prior. Monaco, maybe?”

“Eh, same thing. They always come after me when I get back from Europe. You think they’re trying to catch me off guard or something?”

“I don’t know if we can predict a schedule with these guys, babe,” he grimaces. As much as he liked that you were making light of the situation, the churning in his gut about what could have happened if he didn’t come was too painful to ignore. “Your dad would kill me if he saw how much danger I put you in.” 

“It’s a step up than sneaking me out of the third story of the house, I’ll admit,” you tease. How you could still find humor in times like these, he could never fathom. It’d taken months to convince your father to let Satoru court you, let alone marry you. To your family, he was an impediment, an obstacle, and, unfortunately, the love of your life. “Maybe even as bad as the food poisoning you got from that one place in Sendai.”

“I don’t think ‘in sickness and in health’ is supposed to apply to attempted assassinations. Food poisoning and sprained ankles, sure, but that other one toes the line a little too much.” The frequency of your life in danger was why he wanted you to live full-time on one of the Jujutsu Tech campuses and become a teacher, like him. Sure, a selfish part of him wanted you closer all the time, but he’d pick your safety over your proximity any day. 

“How far are the cleaners?” You yawn, washing your hands at the sink and scanning for everything in your home that needs to be wiped or scrubbed. 

“Ten minutes, tops. I can wait for them if you wanna go back to bed.” He knew you weren’t going to take him up on his offer. You were never able to sleep properly after attempts like this unless he was in the same room. “Though I know you won’t.”

“Isn’t it a little fucked up that we know how the rest of these nights usually go?” You chuckle, a soft, airy sound that takes some of the weight off of Satoru’s chest. You were truly sunlight incarnate and he was the darkest, unseen side of the moon. 

“I’d say this is all my fault, honestly.” You look at him curiously and he shrugs. “I’m the one who made you fall in love with me, after all.” 

“By that logic, I’m also partially to blame,” you point out, flashing him the ring on your left hand. The glow of cursed energy Satoru had embedded into the gemstones glows like Christmas lights in the darkness. The energy was more concentrated than your own body’s natural reserves, allowing him to pinpoint you immediately as long as you were wearing it. Danger and plans A through Z, and everything in between that came with marrying the strongest sorcerer in existence. “I can’t count the number of people who warned me about you.”  

“Why didn’t you listen to them?” 

“Because they’re not you,” you smile. “If you say that you’ll keep me safe, then I trust you to keep your word.” Sunlight incarnate, he thinks again, and God help anyone who tries to block you from him.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[eringobragh420]

💜 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader 💜 Summary: Damian’s girlfriend and Rhea have a deep hatred for one another, leaving Damian in the middle to referee. 🛑 Warnings: NSFW. Overstimulation, sex 18+ 💜 Notes: Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and I’ll fix it! ❤️ Thank you so much to @miss-kuki-nz for being my muse ❤️ 💜 Taglist: In the comments because I'm old and don't know how they work lol. If you’d like to be added, please click here! 💜 Requested By: @twistedprincess-92. Hope you enjoy!

“I am so tired of this bullshit,” Damian complained, unlocking the front door to his and his girlfriend’s home. He shoved it open, and no matter how angry he was, the man never forgot his manners, so he motioned for the tiny woman beside him to enter ahead of him.

Had she not been absolutely livid at the moment, she’d have swooned, as she was prone to doing, but as the situation stood, there would definitely be no swooning this time. “You and me both, babe,” she hissed as she passed him.

Damian slammed the door and locked it before stomping after her into the living room. He watched as she kicked her heels off and doffed her leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the couch. She crossed her arms, and he knew it was going to be a long night. “You’re acting like you’re the one that should be mad right now,” he said, motioning in her direction.

“Are you saying I’m not?” she asked evenly, brows in her hairline, and it was that perfectly held-together tone that gave Damian an ominous chill down his spine.

“Yeah, I’m saying you’re not. I’m the one that has to referee his girlfriend and his best friend every damn time we go out somewhere.”

“Oh, poor you,” his girlfriend spat. “At least you’re not the one getting called a golddigger!”

“She did not call you a golddigger.”

“Wait, no, you’re right. What she said was you’re just like all the rest. Like the girl you dated before me who spent all your money.”

“She’s just looking out for me.”

“Well, Damian, which is it? Did she not say it or is she protecting a six-foot-five grown ass man who can take care of himself?”

Damian’s hands came to his head but they dropped quickly. “You both literally want the same thing. I don’t understand any of this.”

“Maybe we do want the same thing, but she’s the one being a bitch about it.”

“Oh, great. Next you’re gonna tell me she’s the one that started it.”

“Actually, she did.”

Damian’s eyes went to the ceiling. He couldn’t believe they were having this argument again. It had been almost a year since he’d introduced the love of his life to his best friend, and ever since that day, he hadn’t had a moment’s peace. Maybe the two women were simply too alike and would consequently never get along. So where did that leave him? He refused to choose between them, and he refused to allow them to bully him into choosing between them. Had they reached an impasse? Was this just supposed to be his life now? And when the couple inevitably got married, was Rhea not going to be invited?

“And what if I just say I’m done with it?” he suddenly asked, turning his head to look at his girlfriend.

She stared at him. “What does that mean?”

Damian sighed. “Never mind.”

“You wanna be done with me?”

“I didn’t say—“

“The hell you didn’t. I’m not in Rhea’s cool book, so you’re just gonna toss me aside?”

“You’re not lis—”

“Fuck you, Damian.”

His brows rose and he nodded. “Fuck me?”

“Fuck you.”

She stomped past him, glaring the whole way, and it was clear she didn’t want to be followed, nor did he particularly want to follow her. He knew the door slam was coming, but he still jumped just the same as he removed his jacket, dropping it over the back of the couch before he fell onto the cushions with a heavy sigh. He scrubbed his hands over his face, grabbed the remote, and turned on the television knowing full well he wasn’t interested in watching anything.

He was all threats, and she knew it. He wasn’t going to break up with her, and he wasn’t going to sever ties with Rhea, either. He would live with it, he supposed, like he had been, spending the rest of his life hoping things would change. In the meantime, he’d have to keep them separated. Like children.

“Damian?”

Damian stirred, clearing his throat, and his eyes slowly blinked open. He must have fallen asleep at some point as he was now prone on the couch, one boot on the cushion, the other on the floor. Had he heard his name in a dream? He sat up, yawning, and arched his back to work out the kinks.

“Papí?” his girlfriend called again from upstairs.

“Yeah, babe?” he replied, looking over his shoulder toward the staircase.

“Will you please come to bed?”

He smirked. Yeah, he was gonna live with it. He loved her too damn much. “I’m on my way.” He pulled his phone from his pocket to check the time, discovering a message from Rhea.

I love you, twin. I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.

Damian’s smile only grew and his heart swelled, but then realized his girlfriend hadn’t been the first one to apologize. Did that bother him? Did it really matter? He could build on this. Light at the end of the tunnel. He turned the TV off before climbing the stairs and made his way down the corridor toward their bedroom. The door was open and the lights were off save for the nightlight near the bed on her side—she’d never admitted to it, but she had at least a slight fear of the dark. She was in bed, under the blankets, facing him, the azure hue from the nightlight painting her face in blues and shadows. Damian took his clothes off and crawled under the blankets behind her, pulling her naked body to his. That distended heart of his promised to pop, as his girlfriend cuddled back into him, rubbing her ass against his cock, moaning when his arms wrapped around her.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she mumbled. “You’re right. I’ve been a jerk. Rhea and I can figure this out.”

Damian’s grin could have lit up the entire room. They are just alike. He kissed her neck softly, attacking her spots as his hand drifted along her body. She squirmed when he cupped her breast, rocking her hips against his. “I know you will,” he growled, omitting the text from Rhea. “Because you’re wonderful.” He pinched an already hard nipple, ripping a groan from deep in her throat. “And you’re perfect.” His stiffening cock thrust against the crack of her ass, and she reached back to clutch his hip over the blankets. “And you’re so fucking sexy.”

She giggled. “You sweet-talker.”

“Mhmmm,” Damian mumbled, nibbling on her earlobe. His warm hand slid from her breast, the pads of his fingers skating along her abdomen, and she lifted her leg so those fingers could slip into her dampening pussy.

“Fuck,” she whined, tightening her thighs around his hand as she rode his digits. “Shouldn’t this be the other way around?” she breathed. “I’m the one that screwed up.”

“That makes me right,” Damian boasted, “which means I get what I want. And this is what I want.” His middle finger slid inside her, her hips bucking to accept and bring him deeper. “I’m gonna make you cum at least three times before I even fuck that pussy.”

And he made good on his word, working her over with his fingers until she was trembling beside him not once, not twice, but three times, and by the third time, his girlfriend was a sobbing, quivering, begging-for-mercy mess. She almost protested when Damian began to slide his stiff manhood inside her, and maybe she did a little, but her objection was weak and unconvincing. His hand on her thigh lifted her leg in the air, she pivoted her hips, and her pussy sucked him deeper within her, Damian groaning.

“God, I can’t,” she all but wept, “I can’t, I can’t.” She repeated the words in time with Damian’s pumps, and he nuzzled her neck with tender kisses.

“Yes, you can,” Damian panted. “You’re doing so good. You can take just a little bit more.” He placed her leg gently on top of its twin, tightening her already impossibly tight cunt, and he squeezed her hip before thrusting into her. “That’s it,” he whispered, watching with wild eyes as his girlfriend fisted the sheets and bit down on the pillowcase, “take it for Papí.”

His girlfriend lurched, strangled sounds escaping her lips as her pussy pulsed around him. And that was enough to send Damian over the edge. He pressed his face to her hair and emptied himself inside her, his hips stuttering, pounding, pausing, thrusting again. After several moments, he tried to pull out, but she grabbed hold of him anyway she could, and that’s where he stayed.

“Don’t even think about moving for at least the next five to seven hours.”

Damian chuckled. “Little sensitive?”

His girlfriend scoffed. “You would be too if you just came three times in a row.”

“Oh, you didn’t cum while we were fucking? Let me fix that.”

Her grip on him tightened. “Don’t even think about it. I swear, I don’t even know what Rhea and I are fighting about. I’m the one that needs protection from you.”

Damian laughed again. “I love you, mi vida.”

“I love you … jerk.” 🎀 Papí - Daddy 🎀 Mi vida - My life

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

you had me at 'hello'

the sequel to daddy all along

pairing: dbf! leon x f! reader

cw: alcoholism, p in v, masturbation, oral sex

word count: 10k

a/n: "when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible" <3 (quote from when harry met sally, title from jerry maguire)

thank you to @thevirgincherry for your feedback!

Leon remembers when you used to call him on the phone as a child. You’d interrupt his work, and Hunnigan would tell him to hang up, but he’d ignore her for a few minutes. You were too important. You’d pace around the living room, telling him about your day at school, what you did at recess with your friends and the art project you’re working on. He loved to hear about it. Most days, it was the only good news he’d get.

It pained him to hang up, but he promised you he’d call to say goodnight, and he did. Even when he drank, he stepped outside the bar and tried his best not to slur his words.

“Do you have a daughter?” A woman he’d go home with would ask.

“No,” he’d say, but it felt like it.

When FaceTime was invented, it became your favorite activity. Leon would pay extra for an international phone plan and for wifi in every hotel room, so he could talk to you. He kicked a woman out of bed once to speak to you. He never saw her again and hasn’t thought of her since.

“It’s an important thing for work,” he told the woman.

She knew he was lying when she heard a little girl’s voice on the other end while she was putting her clothes back on. He didn’t bat an eye at her expression - confusion, distaste, bitterness, who cares? Not Leon.

You’re his favorite girl, the only girl he’s ever cared about.

The morning after your 21st, Leon gently shrugged you off him. He washed his face in the mirror, hoping to wipe away the previous night’s mistakes, but he was still the same old Leon. A fuck-up, an idiot, a pervert who slept with a girl he’d known since she was a baby.

When you woke up, he was in the shower. You’d go on to ask him if he jerked off, and he’d say no, but he did. It wasn’t lust, it was procrastination - five more minutes before he’d have to face you. He tried to think about Ada with one hand on the wall and the other on his dick. Your name slipped out when he came, and it felt like another violation, in addition to lying and then cumming down the drain with your shampoo bottles - the ones containing the sweet scent of you - scrutinizing him.

A long time ago, Leon promised he’d never lie to you. It was the one promise he’d kept - until that morning when he told you ‘something important came up, and he had to leave ASAP’.

You could see it in his eyes, but you took out your anger on your father, who deserved it more after he came home that afternoon with an obvious hangover. You screamed at him until he told you to go upstairs. You were already on your way.

Leon only knew how to deal with his problems in three ways: call his therapist, drink, or fuck. That day it was either drink or fuck because there was no way he could tell his therapist that his mental crisis was caused by fucking his friend’s daughter, a girl who was decades younger than him. It wasn’t an illegal act, but he still felt like he deserved to have the cops called on him. I should get the death penalty, he thought. Unfortunately, capital punishment was not allowed in D.C., but Leon considered the fact that his actions may have been heinous enough for him to be granted an exception. 

He decided on alcohol. He went to the ABC store, bought a handle of whiskey, got home, and dumped it down the kitchen sink. Nope. He promised everyone he was done with that. His therapist, Hunnigan, Claire, Chris, himself, and most importantly, you. He promised you.

Sex it was, then. He never promised anyone he’d be celibate. Leon was well over 40, so he didn’t use Tinder - though he had heard of it. He looked through his contacts list like a little black book, and his thumb hovered over a few names. He debated and picked Claire. Another idiotic decision.

“Hello?” Her voice already sounded suspicious. He didn’t call Claire on the phone often. They usually stuck to emails and texts.  

“Hey, how are you?”

“I’m okay, Leon. Why are you calling?”

“I just wanted to talk. Do I need another reason?”

“Are you drunk?”

“No.”

There was a long pause until she said,“If I promise not to bring it up again, will you admit that you’re trying to get me to hook up with you?”

“Is it really that obvious?”

“Goodbye, Leon.” She hung up on him. He should’ve expected it. He texted her an apology later, which she accepted.

Soon after, before he could make another mistake, he received a text from a number he hadn't saved. “Are you in D.C.?” It read.

“Who is this?”

“A.W.” She wouldn’t even sign her full name - didn’t want a paper trail. Classic Ada.

“Yeah, I’m home right now.”

“I’ll be there in an hour or so. I have some things to finish up.”

“K” Leon texted and left the door unlocked.

He knew it was her by the click of her heels.

“In the bedroom,” he called.

“Perfect,” she said when she reached the threshold, “Nice of you to be ready for me.”

He shrugged and smiled because he was tired and had been in that position for hours, but he’d pretend like he’d done her a favor by getting down to a pair of sweatpants before she arrived.

She worked on getting out of her dress. “Not going to help?” she asked, annoyed.

“Thought you could do it yourself,” he said, teasing her.

“Thought you treated your guests nicely.”

“I’m about to.” And he did. At least, nice enough. They didn’t talk during sex because they never do. They’d worked out the logistics of their arrangement long ago. It was a pretty sweet deal, especially since there were never any condoms involved. Leon didn’t mind paying the 40 or so for Plan B in the morning. He couldn’t give less of a fuck what the cashier at the pharmacy thought of him. 

“Can I talk to you?” he asked after round two. He used to have more stamina. 

“About what?” She was slightly more interested and less suspicious than Claire was when he’d called her earlier that night.

“I need advice.”

“That’s new. I’m flattered.”

“You know that girl, my friend’s daughter?”

“The one you’re always gushing about? She’s practically your daughter.”

Yeah, you really were his little girl, considering even Ada had heard about you from Leon. 

“Don’t say that.” His defensiveness was a confession in and of itself.

“You slept with her,” she said, matter–of-factly.

“How’d you know that?”

“I can see the guilt in your eyes. She’s an adult, right?”

“Yeah, just turned 21.”

“Okay. Nothing illegal, then. Just… an interesting situation.”

“Yeah, I fucked things up pretty bad.”

She hummed in agreement. There was no pity, but no ridicule either. She cared enough not to laugh at his idiocy.

“What do you want me to say?” she asked.

“Whatever you’re thinking.”

“Either be with her or don’t. Don’t string her along.”

“You’re one to talk,” he mumbled. He wanted the remark to pass through the air as a bit of his dry wit and not his eternal bitterness.

“I’m not stringing you along. You know that this is all we’re ever going to be.”

“That’s what I told her.” 

“But she’s 21. You’re much older, and if you can’t wrap your pretty little head around this arrangement yet, then…” 

He was 21 when he met Ada. And she broke his heart without giving him any reason to think whatever they had was more than a kiss. Ironic. He wondered if she knew the way she was playing with his head at the time. He’d always liked to believe she had a good heart, it was just deep, deep, deep down under all the layers of mystique and her cold disposition.

He was supposed to be the good man, the hero, a beacon of morality, of all things just. But he was on Ada’s level now. Ada the heartbreaker.  

“Can you just tell me what to do?” He asked, pissed off at his own indecision. 

“Why? So you can blame me later when you don’t like the choice you make?”

She knew him well. He stayed silent. 

“I’m not going to be your scapegoat,” she said.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but thank you for your honesty.”

She laughed - almost, but it was genuine amusement because, despite it all, she did care. People never really stop caring do they? She left in the morning and didn’t need an excuse, not like Leon did with you.

You told yourself you wouldn’t call, but weeks went by, and you hadn’t heard anything. You were wondering if was alive at that point. And you missed him. So you called.

His phone vibrated on the bedside table; he picked it up, looked at the caller ID, and saw your name. A part of him still got that same warm, fuzzy feeling that he always felt when you called, and the other part was full of dread and guilt.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” you said.

There was a lull. Dead air, not peaceful silence. 

“How are you?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

“Doin’ fine.” It was a lie. You missed him too much to be considered “fine.”

Your hands should not have been traveling downward, but they were. They had a mind of their own that lived between your thighs. You couldn’t help the fact that his groggy voice made you ache.

“What are you doing right now?” You suppressed the urge to ask him what he was wearing and where he was. You imagined him sprawled out in bed, naked and ready for you.

“Nothing. I was lying in bed, nodding off when you called.” He wasn’t nodding off, but he was in bed, mind filled with memories and stress per usual.

“Sorry to interrupt your relaxation, then.”

“It’s no big deal.”

He told himself that he’d keep one hand on the phone and the other fidgeting with whatever he could find so as not to reach any lower than his waistline. But there was something about your voice, the way you were talking - it was different than usual. He was probably just imagining things, but it sounded like you were touching yourself.

He was getting hard already, and it was distracting. He had to do something about it. It was either jerk off to the sound of your voice or think about something horrific and grotesque to make his dick go soft. He spent enough time thinking about dead bodies and parasites, so he indulged himself and decided to worry about the consequences later. It’s not like you’d know anyway. Leon could be stealthy.

“What are you up to?” he asked.

“Calling you.” Your little laugh was light and airy, and maybe he wasn’t just imagining things. It was the voice you used when you asked him, so coquettish, to kiss you.

You thought you heard him moving around, and then he dropped the phone. He was trying to hold the phone between his ear and his shoulder while taking his pants off.

“Sorry. Dropped you,” he said when he retrieved the phone.

“How’d you do that? It just slipped out of your hands?”

Fuck. She caught on quick. Too smart for her own good. 

“Guess so.” He didn’t have an excuse. All of the blood that was supposed to be in his brain was in his cock, which was now painfully hard.

“What have you been doing these past weeks?”

“Work mostly.” Thinking about you. I can’t get you off my mind, no matter how many other women I sleep with.

“Anything fun?” your question felt pointed even though it wasn’t.

“A little bit.”

“Like what?”

“Some things should stay a secret. I’ll tell you when you’re older.” He would never tell you about his escapades with Ada.

You thought you knew what he meant. You couldn’t decide whether to be jealous or not. You were too focused on remembering what he looked like during sex, and it was a glorious sight. Someone should paint him, sculpt him, anything to preserve his beauty, you thought. It was worthy of a new renaissance. 

“Have you been up to anything fun?” he asked, not sure whether he wanted to hear about any of your sexual escapades or not.

“No. Just lounging around the house mostly.”

“Hangin’ with your dad?”

“Can we not talk about dad right now?” Your dad really kills the mood.

“Are you guys not in a good place?”

“It’s not that, I just don’t wanna think about him right now. I’d rather think about you.”

The words came out more suggestive than you intended. You could hear his breath hitch, and it might have been arousal, or it might have been surprise, but he knows.

“Oh? You’re thinking about me?”

“What else would I be thinking about?”

“I don’t know.”

He coughed to hide a groan that wanted to leave his mouth while you were biting your lip to hold back any moans.

“Leon…” you said, and it was the same voice you used to call him daddy the night he found out what it felt like to be inside you. 

“Uh-huh?”

“How do you feel about me?”

I love you. “You know how I feel about you. I think you’re great. You’re a great girl.”

“A good girl?”

Fuck it. He’ll take the bait. “Yes, you’re a good girl.”

“Even now?” He could hear your pouty lips and dewy eyes. He could see the image of you coming undone beneath him. Angelic, soft, heavenly, ineffably so. 

“Why wouldn’t you be? Are you up to something… naughty?”

“Maybe. It depends. Are you?”

He didn’t answer because you both knew that you were in the same state - naked and needy.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“In bed.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Your shirt.”

The one he left there. It only aroused him more. It was a white t-shirt, and the fabric was thin enough that if Leon were there, he’d get a peek of your nipples hardening through the fabric. He could slip his hands under your shirt and play with your tits. He could, if only things were different.

“What else?”

“Nothing.”

Nothing. You are naughty.

“Nothing?”

“Are you wearing clothes?”

“Barely.”

“Why did you drop the phone before? Taking your dick out?” You were so flippant and crass that it should’ve sounded ridiculous, but Leon was too hard to care. 

“Might have been.”

“Did I catch you while you were already jerking off or…?” Or was it me?

“No, I wasn’t when I picked up.”

“But you are now.” It was not a question.

He took a deep breath. “I’ll admit it, as long as you admit you’re touching yourself too.”

“I am.”

“Is that why you called?”

“No, I wanted to check on you.” It was true. At least, in your conscious mind, but maybe your subconscious always knew that you wanted to do this.

“And what? You like my voice that much?”

“Yeah.”

Leon closed his eyes and allowed it to happen, giving himself this one little sin because he’d been good for so long, more than good - heroic.

“What are you thinking about, baby?”

“You, Daddy. I told you.”

Daddy? Jesus Christ. Leon was sure he was pushing his luck with God. He was getting more than he deserved in this bargain. Honestly, he never deserved anything you gave him. You were so perfect and he felt like he was ruining you. 

“Be specific, princess.”

“I wish you were touching me.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“I want your fingers inside me.”

“My fingers, huh?”

“No, more than that. I want your mouth, too. I want all of you.”

Your voice faltered mid-sentence like you were getting closer to your peak, but by the end of your statement, your confidence overrode anything else. You didn’t just want his fingers, his mouth, his dick; you wanted all of him. You wanted his fucking heart and soul.

“You have me.”

“I want you here, inside me.”

He needed to be inside you. Fuck his dignity, fuck his sensibility, fuck his morality. He needed to feel your warmth around him again.

“I want that too.”

“Did it feel good for you? Did you like the way it felt with me?”

You were begging for a yes, and it was easy for him to give it to you. The truth is easy.

“The best. You’re the best I’ve ever had.”

“You’re lying.”

“I wish I was lying, princess.”

“Leon,” you whined, and it didn’t matter that you weren’t physically there; the sound reverberated through his dick, and he was dangerously close.

“I know,” he said, “Me too.”

“Can I? Please?” You didn’t have to ask, but it was hot when you did.

Leon wanted to make you beg, but he needed you to come first, and if he heard you say please again, he’d risk coming before you - no, he would come before you. He was already teetering on the edge.

“Come for me,” he said.

And you did. You were muffling your moans with your hand over your mouth, but you were close enough to the phone that Leon could hear it. He was lucky he was alone because he didn’t hold back when he moaned out your name. He shouldn’t have done that at all, though. Just another tally to add to the endless list of sins.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, meaning it two-fold. Please do not mention this.

“Am I going to see you again?”

“Yes, you’ll see me again.”

I’m never going to leave you, and you know it.

The next time you two saw each other, Leon picked you up from the hospital. You were not the patient, thank God. It was your dad. Drunk driving accident. Leon was more pissed than anything else.

The nurse asked if they should call your mom, and you laughed. Dare you to try, you wanted to say. They understood.

“Is there someone you can call?” They could see the loneliness behind your stoic facade.

“I can try.”

You called Leon.

“Hey,” he answered, not knowing his nonchalance was inappropriate for the circumstances.

You didn’t cry when you drove to the hospital. You’ve been your father’s emergency contact since you turned 18. Your heart was beating out of your chest, but no tears fell. You didn’t break until you heard Leon’s voice.

“I need you,” you cried into the phone.

If it weren’t for your tone, he’d think you meant, “I need you in my bed,” maybe even, “I need you inside me.”

But you were crying. He could hear the tears before they’d fallen.

“Where are you?” He masked his panic with sternness.

“Hospital,” you managed to say through your sniffles.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Leon was already grabbing his keys and jacket, imagining the worst.

“It’s not me, it’s dad.”

Leon was only slightly relieved. He doesn’t want your father dead, but you’re his girl; you can’t die on him.

“I’ll be right there.”

Leon didn’t drive fast, he drove safely. 

“Name?” The woman working at the front desk asked.

“Leon Kennedy.”

“Relationship to the patient.”

“A friend. His daughter called me. I’m here to come get her.” He knew they’d want more of an answer than ‘friend’, and he was more than just a friend. He spoke with such conviction as if it were his right to be there as if they had to let him see you.

You didn’t talk on the way home - not to your house, but to Leon’s apartment. You insisted. You couldn’t be in that house, and Leon knew precisely why. 

It was over a decade ago. You were at least 6 or 7, but no more than 10. It was one of those things that Leon tried to forget.

You called him on the landline and gripped the phone with both hands, slippery with sweat.

“Leon, I need you.” He swore he could hear a whispered ‘help’ at the end of your sentence, or maybe it was just his instinct.

Thank God you called his cell. He talked to you while he drove.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“Dad. I don’t know what happened.”

“Is he okay?”

“No. He’s in the kitchen. On the floor. He’s not moving.”

“Is he breathing?”

“I think so.”

“Did you call 911?”

“No, I called you.”

I can be your father figure, your guardian, or the one who tucks you in at night, but I am not a paramedic.

“You need to call 911. Tell them what you told me.”

And you did. Leon got there after the ambulance arrived.

“Sir,” they stopped him before he could enter the front door, “we’re dealing with an emergency. We need you to wait out here.”

“I can’t.” He brushed them off and called your name. You came flying out the front door.

“Who are you?” One of them asked.

“Leon,” he said because that was the only answer.

He slept on your bedroom floor that night.

No, he didn’t sleep. He watched you sleep, constantly checking to see if you were breathing.

“I can sleep on the couch,” Leon offered.

“No,” you said.

“No? I don’t have a guest room.”

“I wanna sleep in your bed with you.”

Do you want to sleep with me? Absolutely not.

He raised an eyebrow, not daring to say the words aloud lest he put them into your mind.

They were already there, and you both knew it.

“Not like that. I just don’t wanna be alone. And I don’t think you wanna sleep on the floor.”

“No funny business.” He held out his pinky finger for you to take.

“No funny business. Serious business only.” You took his pinky and cracked a smile that mimicked the one he was holding back. You shouldn’t be laughing at a time like this, but you have to if you want to avoid crying.

Leon let you wear his clothes to sleep because you didn’t bring a change of clothes. You didn’t stop at home. It wasn’t the same as last time.

He was about to turn off the lamp on his bedside table when you said, “Leon?”

He turned to see you lying on your side, facing him.

“Yeah?”

“One kiss?”

“I thought I said no funny business.”

“I’m not trying to be funny at all.”

“I know,” he breathed the words into your mouth as he accepted his fate.

You gripped his shirt for dear life and wrapped one leg around his hip. He expected your tongue to be in his mouth and your hands in his pants soon. But he was wrong. It didn’t go any further than that. Your lips left his, but you never entirely pulled away. You clung to him.

“I just want to feel loved,” you whispered, answering questions he didn’t have the words to ask.

“You are,” he said confidently.

You fell asleep on his chest. This time, he did sleep because he could feel your steady breathing. 

You found him in the kitchen, making breakfast in the morning.

“I have good news,” he said.

“Pancakes?”

“No. I mean - yes, if you want, but that’s not what I meant. Your dad’s awake.”

“Really?”

“Really. You wanna stop by your house on our way over to the hospital? For a change of clothes.”

“I can’t wear this?”

“I don’t think the hospital staff would appreciate you not wearing pants.”

“Why not? They make everyone wear those little hospital gowns anyway.”

“You’re not the patient. Plus, I think your dad would prefer you in pants, too.”

His expression told more than he was willing to say. He’ll think we had sex. We didn’t. But we did.

“I was kidding.”

“I know you were.”

“I’d like to see you in one of those hospital gowns.”

“I hope you never have to.”

“We could play doctor and patient.”

He turned to face you, mouth agape in surprise but holding back his laughter.

“If we did - which we won’t,” he held out a finger as he spoke, “you would be the patient.” Joking is a slippery slope.

Your dad went to rehab. Finally, it was a win in everyone’s book. Leon moved into your guest room during the months that your dad was away. It wouldn’t be fair to leave you alone when your life had been shaken up like that. Leon made it clear from the beginning that you would be sleeping in separate beds. He loved you, but not like that.

“You don’t wanna do it again?” You asked one night.

“Do what again?” Leon was tired from work. You were used to seeing the good version of him. He can’t hide behind the facade of the happy-go-lucky, charming guy 24/7.

“Have sex,” you said, making sure to enunciate, “with me.”

“No. We’re not doing it again.”

“Why? You said it was the best ever.”

“Why? Because this,” Leon gestured between the two of you, “cannot get more complicated than it is. I cannot take care of you and fuck you at the same time.”

You’d never seen him get so serious. Even on your 21st, when you were flirting with him, and he tried to brush you off, he was still being playful, still willing to let you try to win him over.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You stood still until Leon grabbed the remote control and un-paused the TV. Then, you turned on your heels and walked upstairs. You put yourself to bed that night.

You hadn’t realized the possibility that you were anything but an angel in Leon’s eyes. You were a burden to your father, a bigger burden to your mother - enough that she packed her bags and left, but being a burden to Leon - you’d never imagined it. Maybe he was just strong enough to carry the weight of you. Maybe your problems were too heavy for him now.

You didn’t cry. The wells had dried up. You cried them out over your parents. There weren’t any left for Leon. You fell asleep to the sound of the fan overhead.

You and Leon didn’t speak about it. He wanted to say, “I’m sorry for talking to you that way,” but he didn’t want to open the door for you to proposition him again. Maybe you’d just forget, he hoped.

Leon continued to be distant, and you had no one else you could talk to the way you did with him. You had no one but a few friends from high school who were home from college. You loved them, but you couldn’t relate to them a lot of the time. You knew they would accept you if you talked to them about your dad and his situation, but it always felt like there was some sort of wall between you and the rest of the world. One that was never there between you and Leon. Sometimes your dad managed to break through it, too. Sometimes.

As your father progressed in his recovery, you allowed yourself to let optimism back into your life. You went to visit him one weekend and ate lunch out in the yard.

“How’s Leon?”

“He’s fine, I think.”

Your father could see your attempt to evade further discussion.

“Is that it? You used to talk about Leon all the time when you were a kid,” your dad smiled as he spoke, “I’d come home, and you were always blabbing on about ‘Leon, Leon, Leon’.”

“Not much to blab about. He’s just Leon.”

Your dad accepted whatever you were willing to say and whatever you weren’t. He asked you about your friends, too. You’d spoken to him over the phone, and for the first time in a long time, he’d remembered what you spoke about. You didn’t have to retell the same stories because he was sober now. Your dad was drunk so often you thought you hated him, but sitting next to him on that sunny afternoon, you remembered why you loved your dad. He didn’t mention the tear that slipped down your cheek when he pulled back from his goodbye hug. He just gave you an extra “Love you, Kiddo” with a smile before sending you off.

Leon lived in your guest room, but emotionally, he was miles away. He had always been a workaholic, but it felt like he managed to spend even more time at the office than usual. One afternoon, when Leon was at work and you were sulking in your room, you got a call. 

Leon used to schedule his lunch breaks around you. When you were in middle school, struggling to make friends, you sat at a picnic table out in the courtyard on the phone with Leon. You cried on your first day. Your voice shook with every word, “I can’t do this.”

“You can do this.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you’re you. You’re my girl.”

You told the mean girls who bullied you that you were talking to your boyfriend who went to a different school and they were stupid enough to buy it. Leon made you promise to stop, threatening to spill your little secret. 

One time, you went to the nurse after having a shitty third period, and subsequently getting cornered by the worst of the bully clique. They told you that you had to call your parents if needed to go home or you had to go back to class. You called Leon and lied, saying you felt too sick. He knew you were lying and he didn’t have to call you out on it for you to see that you’d been caught. You climbed into the passenger seat and he flashed you a look.

“So, what’s really going on?”

You dished out the gossip over milkshakes. You sang Sheryl Crow on the drive from the Burger King drive thru to the pond just far enough away from the school.

“This is a one time deal,” he said, “or Hunnigan will take the stick out of her ass and make me into a kebab with it.”

You laughed so hard that vanilla milkshake came out of your nose. At your expense, Leon laughed so hard he had tears in his eyes.

“You better not tell your dad about this either,” he said.

You pinky promised on it.

Middle school was long gone, but the days of you needing him were not. He was the one to break first. He needed you, too, it seemed. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, princess. I have an important question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“There’s a thing I have to go to for work… that I completely forgot about until Hunnigan reminded me… it’s an event with a bunch of diplomats and shit - point is, they’re sending me as the rep for the DSO and I need a date.”

“What’s your question?”

“Will you be my date?”

“When is it?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow? How formal is it?”

“Black tie-ish, maybe, I guess. I don’t know that much about dress codes. Hunnigan usually helps me with this.”

“I don’t have anything that formal.”

“That’s why I’m giving you advanced notice. So you can get something.”

Fuck it. “Okay,” you said. 

“Okay,” he said, “I’ll be home early tonight and we can figure out the plan for tomorrow.”

You were not Leon’s girlfriend, not his wife, not his daughter, but you were his date for the night. 

This wasn’t the first time you and Leon had danced together. He’d gone to a father-daughter dance with you when you were in kindergarten. Back then, you wore a little pink dress, cheap tulle fabric, and a tiara atop your head. Tonight, your gold dress was form-fitting around the hips with a tailored hem so you could dance without tripping over your feet. It didn’t quite brush the floor, the fabric stayed clean. The slit halfway up your thigh could only be seen when you moved. The classiest tease.

“Dance with me?” you asked with your hand out as an invitation, already inching towards the dance floor.

He thought about it for a good moment, and with an eye roll, he took your hand.

“For you,” he said.

It felt like prom night, in the awkward ‘where are we supposed to put our hands’ way. There was a novelty about it. Your arms around his neck and his carefully placed at your waist, no lower. You swayed back and forth, and Leon felt at peace for the first time in a long time. There was no pressure to be the father you never had and no expectation of the two of you sleeping together. It was just you, beautiful as ever, smiling as you swayed back and forth in time like you’d practiced.

“Did you take dance classes?” you asked him.

“No, why?” he asked.

“You dance effortlessly.”

“It’s not hard. You’re doing it too.”

“But you’re leading.”

“It’s simple,” he says, counting each step 1-2-3-4, slowly leading you through a box step.

Your smile made Leon smile. You made him giddy like no one else.

“Can you twirl me?” you asked because you knew he could unless he’d somehow forgotten how to in the years since he’d done it when you were a little girl.

“Of course,” he said with an unwavering grin as he spun you around, and to your surprise - and delight - he dipped you, too. He even dared to press a kiss to your cheek when he pulled you back up.

I love you. It was on the tip of your tongue, but you kept your mouth closed. Your smile said enough.

You and Leon made the mistake of getting tipsy on champagne, but the open bar was too tempting for either of you to refuse.

“I usually leave these things early,” Leon said to you around midnight. 

“You usually don’t invite me.”

“I should more often because you are a great dance partner.” It became effortless once you got the hang of it, so you both danced until your feet hurt, and then you danced a little more. 

“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed my dancing because I’ll probably never walk again after tonight,” you said, leaning onto him for support, “I need to get these shoes off.”

Wait until we get home, he tried to say, but what came out was, “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”

Leon had complimented you a thousand times. This should not have felt so novel. You were always his pretty princess, right? But his smile was not light and playful like it usually was with you. The look on his face was so sincere. The redness rising in his cheeks was the confession. It was real. 

“Should we go home?” You asked, secretly hoping you could get him to crawl in bed with you when you got there. 

“We have to wait until one of us sobers up enough to drive unless you want to get a cab…” he said, “or, we could get a room.”

Leon’s face lit up, almost like he was proud of himself for coming up with the idea - a little giddy about it, too. 

You had an even better idea to accompany his genius plan. “Can you hold the glasses while I get us a bottle?” You whispered. 

“What?” He whispered back. 

“Here.” You thrust your champagne flute at him after you down what was in it. “I’m going to go grab us something.”

“Wait,” Leon said, stopping you. 

“It’s not like they’re going to miss it.”

“I didn’t say ‘no’, I said, ‘wait’. Let me book us a room first. Then, we'll come back to conduct your little ‘operation’.”

Leon made mistakes, but he wasn’t completely careless. He flashed you two room keys a few moments later. 

“Take this,” he said, handing you one, “and go up to the fourth floor, room 405, take the glasses. I’ll get the bottle.”

You nodded and snuck out. You were lucky that no one was in the elevator to catch you with stolen goods since you didn’t have a jacket or a big enough purse to hide them in. You opened the door to find a lovely room with only one bed for the both of you to share. 

“Perfect,” you said to yourself. You stepped out of your shoes and slipped off your dress. You were down to only a thong, no bra. Seducing Leon was a secondary motive. You really just wanted to get out of your clothes. 

You covered yourself with the sheets before Leon walked in. You wanted it to be a surprise, and you were freezing your ass off. He swallowed hard when he saw your dress pooled on the floor. 

“So?” He asked, holding up the bottle. “Want me to do the honors?”

“Yes, please.”

He poured one glass for each of you and said, “A toast?”

You nodded and held up your glass, giving him the go ahead. 

He hesitated. “A toast to you,” he said, “for being the prettiest girl in every room.”

You clinked glasses with him and tried not to look too emotional. 

“Like Celine and Jesse, right?”

“Hm?”

“Stealing the champagne. In Before Sunrise they steal a bottle of wine and wine glasses.”

“Yeah, I forgot about that. I think I’m Celine and you’re Jesse, though.”

“You do? Why?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling I have.”

You put your glass on the bedside table while Leon took off his shoes and his jacket. He left his glass sitting on the dresser next to the TV. Every rational part of his mind would be telling him not to do this, but they had all been lulled to sleep by the alcohol. 

He didn’t climb into bed next to you. He leaned over and kissed you. It was better than you remembered. You reached out and pulled him in again when he pulled away to take a breath. This time he didn’t argue, he leaned into the kiss. It was more passionate than the last time you’d done this. 

Leon murmured something about taking his pants off and you made no effort to stop him. The room was quiet minus the clinking sound of his belt buckle and then the pop of a button and the pulling of a zipper. You’d seen Leon’s dick before. You were eager to see it again, and yet, waited patiently while you watched him undress. His calloused hands ran down his torso, taking his shirt off button by button. He hung up his clothes in the closet, though he’d send them to the dry cleaners regardless. He wasn’t sexy, hot, DILF-ish. He was beautiful. You pretended you were watching your husband take off his suit after a long day at work. A familiar man, one you’d chosen to lie down next to every night. You longed for that choice. 

He returned to you in nothing but his underwear, matching you in his state of undress. 

“Wanna let me in?” He asked. 

You lifted the covers. When he got under the sheets, he lay down on his side facing you. Your bodies drifted closer to each other until your skin was touching his. His lips were on yours again. You weren’t sure whether or not to ask. You didn’t want to shatter the delicate moment. 

His hands roamed your body, ending up on your waist. 

“Can I touch you?” you asked. 

“Mhm,” he said. Not a reluctant yes, but a guilty one. If he didn’t say it, maybe it wasn’t so bad. 

He watched as you palmed him through the fabric of his underwear. His breath hitched, and you asked, “Can I go down on you?”

He didn’t respond at first. “Please?” You asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. His gaze was hazy and warm despite his icy blue eyes. He changed his position so that you could be on top of him. You kissed down his stomach, making your way down to the v-line of his hips. He pulled the covers down before you could dip your head below them. You thought it was a courtesy. So you could breathe. 

He said, “I wanna see you.”

You were slightly nervous for your performance, but he looked pleased with the show by the time you’d gotten his dick out of his pants. You licked a stripe up the side while you looked into his eyes. He rubbed your cheek and smiled. 

You took him into your mouth, slowly easing yourself down so as not to gag. You couldn’t go all the way down, but he didn’t mind at all. He was focused on trying to keep his eyes from closing and his head from lolling back. 

His breath was ragged and his hands ran through your hair. He didn’t dare move his hips. 

“Fuck,” he said, “C’mere.”

It was clear he was getting close. He pulled you up so that you were on top of him, your noses touching. He asked in a whisper, “Do you wanna do this?”

He was nervous. You could hear it in his voice. You’d had sex before. It wasn’t your first time doing this with each other. But, it was your first time making love. Something Leon hadn’t done in so many years it felt brand new to him, too. 

You nodded and he swiftly flipped you over, so he was on top. He was going to take care of you. He always took care of you. That was the one thing that never changed between the two of you.

He kissed you with such a passion that every other kiss you’d shared before that was put to shame. Every time he touched you, he did so with reverence. The last time you were naked and entangled, it was morally dubious at best, a cardinal sin at worst. This was something holy.

He slipped your thong down your thighs and you kicked it off, letting it disappear somewhere in the sheets. He’d peeled back the final layer that stood between your skin and his. Leon paused. Everything paused. All that was left was your heavy breathing, matching his, and the thrum of your heartbeat, hard, but steady in your chest. Sure of its own existence more than ever at that moment. Leon ran his hands over your entire body, making sure to learn the way every atom made up your physical form. He understood you more than ever when his hands grazed your inner thighs. Your breath hitched when he brushed his fingertips over your clit. 

Then, he began to finger you, getting you ready for him - which didn’t take very long. 

You felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance, and he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

It took you a moment, but you realized what he meant: I don’t have a condom. 

“Yeah,” you said, confidently as the thought of feeling him inside you without any barrier made you more aroused. 

He began with slow thrusts. He kept his body close to yours. He didn’t increase his speed, but you could feel him deeper inside you. When he was finally fully encased by your warmth, he groaned. You could feel his cock pulsate and it made you moan. He never pulled all the way out, he stayed deep inside you for as long as he could, rocking his hips slowly. You wished for your bodies to melt into one. This was the closest you’d ever get. 

It didn’t make you scream or cry or swear, but your breath quickened and your legs trembled. You got close to the edge faster than the last time. It took all of Leon’s willpower not to come when you did. You didn’t warn him, though he saw it coming. You arched your back and dragged your nails down his back. You could apologize later if you even remembered. He pulled out just in time to paint your thighs with thick white ropes.

There was the briefest moment of clarity. The duality of ‘this was a mistake’ and ‘I love you’ was at the forefront of both your minds. 

“Don’t think about it,” your eyes said when he returned with a wet washcloth to wipe you down. 

He got into bed beside you and pulled you close. 

You didn’t talk about that night, but things got marginally better. In some ways, it was like the sex had smoothed things over. You noticed the creases forming next to Leon’s eyes when he smiled at you - it wasn’t forced anymore. But that was all it was. When you brushed up against him in the kitchen, he walked past you, not thinking anything about it. You wanted his arms encircling your waist, his face in your neck, pressing kisses to your skin. Since that night, your thoughts were filled with wedding bands, baby clothes, watching Leon get dressed every morning from your shared bed. You wondered sometimes how well he remembered that night in the hotel. His credit card sure did. 

You started spending time with friends. You needed to get out of the house before you made yourself crazy. When you did go out, you stayed out late, and Leon gave you the typical “if you’re going to drink, don’t drive,” which was all too pertinent given your dad’s situation.

You didn’t drink that night, so you did drive home. Your friend had a family obligation the next day - oh, what it would be like to have one of those, you thought. 

You got home around midnight after having been out since the afternoon. You walked inside, took off your shoes, and planned to go to your room until you heard rustling coming from the living room. You walked into the living room, your living room, your father’s living room, to see Leon balls-deep in some woman you’d never seen before.

With messy hair falling upon his forehead and sweat beading on his brow, Leon locked eyes with you. The mystery woman was facing away. You could only see her brown hair on the throw pillow and her legs wrapped around Leon’s hips. You bolted upstairs, worried you’d be physically ill if you stayed in that room for one second longer.

This time, you did cry - after screaming into your pillow. This was worse than leaving you. There was no contract between the two of you about being with other people; rather, he’d specifically told you to find someone else the first time you’d had sex. It was a one time thing. But it was a one time thing that happened twice, more than twice if you count the time over the phone. Every act of love you shared, no matter how right it felt, was still a broken promise, still a foolish decision, just kicking more dents into your fragile relationship.

This was the greatest violation in all of human history. You wanted to tattle to your father, but what would that do? Yeah, fucking on his couch would get Leon a read of the riot act, but to truly explain the severity, the double backstabbing that he’d done, you’d have to tell your father that you’d slept with Leon. And you sure as hell weren’t going to tell him about that.

There was a knock at your bedroom door.

“Go away,” you yelled.

“Open up,” Leon called back.

“Go tell that to the stupid whore downstairs! I don’t want you anymore!”

She can have my sloppy seconds, you thought. But, in reality, weren’t you having someone’s sloppy seconds the whole time? Leon was your first, your only, but you were a notch in his bedpost.

Leon could scold you about calling the woman a whore, but he didn’t. “She’s gone. I kicked her out.”

“Pumped and dumped her, too?” Just like you did with me, Leon. Only you can’t leave physically.

“Excuse me?”

“Come and go, blow your load, and hit the road; how else would you like me to say it?”

“Open the door,” he said again, but you could hear the smile forming on his face. At least you were funny, even if you couldn’t be good enough for the true once-in-a-lifetime love you wanted from him. 

You opened the door, dressed in your PJs, which consisted of a tank top and a pair of panties. He didn’t deserve to look at you like that. You covered yourself with the door.

“What do you want, Leon?”

“To apologize.”

“For what?”

“For having sex in the living room.”

“Why?”

“You know why. All of the reasons why.”

He knew you about as well as you knew yourself. He knew all the ‘whys’ even if he couldn’t verbalize them.

You remember when you were little and got in trouble for a stupid thing you did as a child. You disobeyed Leon in some way - secretly ate a cookie while he wasn’t looking, snuck out of your room to watch TV, messed with his paperwork, etc. You drew him an ‘I’m sorry’ card in crayon.

He wasn’t going to pull out the crayons.

“What can I do to apologize to you?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing. It’s all wrong. It’s all gone. Everything.” Everything we were, everything we could’ve been.

When you were a little girl, you thought you were going to marry Leon. He and your dad both thought it was funny, so you had a fake wedding ceremony. It was innocent at the time. You had ring pops instead of wedding bands, and he kissed you on the cheek, not the lips.

You were going to be ‘Mrs. Kennedy’. Your brain persisted, and Leon only solidified the idea in your mind when he took your virginity. It was the last piece of you that you held from him. He had your soul but never your body. Now, he had that, too. You had an old t-shirt of his and tainted memories. Nothing more.

“What do you mean?” He asked. There was a partial understanding. Everything between the two of you was always going to be different. He’d warned you before you had sex with him. But there was more to it than that.

“I just saw you with that woman. I can never unsee that.”

“You’ve seen me naked before, and you know I’ve had sex with other women.”

And I promised you nothing.

“But, it’s like, you’re totally different now.” You gestured vaguely at his body, something that now held more meaning, a complex layer of disgust covering him.

“How?” I’m the same man I’ve always been.

“Not to me.”

He sighed and held the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“I think you see me as someone I’m not, someone I’ve never been.”

“That’s not true. You’ve always been good to me.”

“But you only know what I show you.”

“So you’re a dick to everyone else? You’re a fucking asshole every moment I’m not in the room with you?”

“I don’t think I’m that bad, but I’m not anyone’s knight in shining armor.”

“You were mine.”

“No, I wasn’t. You thought I was. I didn’t want you to see the bad parts of me. I still don’t. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Goodnight,” you said and closed the door in his face.

There was nothing you could do to forget. You felt something you’d never felt before. You wanted your mom - a woman you had no memory of, someone you’d never known. She left when you were a baby, but your dad never talked badly about her. His words were rare but had a nostalgic sweetness. You’d heard Leon say a few nice things about her over the years, too. You had a picture of her in a drawer in your bedroom. You pulled it out and looked at a face almost identical to yours. You wished, in some way, that both your father and Leon had left with her. Surely she wasn’t perfect - in fact, you should resent her for leaving, but you’d never heard anything to taint your image of her. She was just a woman who made a bad choice once, but you weren’t attached enough to be angry, and no one had cracked the facade you put up around her image. If you had her phone number, you’d call.

Leon was in the next room over, and somehow, he was further away than her and more absorbed in mystery. 

Your dad came home. He came home sober with suitcases in hand, holding his arms out for you. You ran into them. You sobbed harder than you ever had. Happy tears flowed easier than sad tears. There wasn’t anything holding you back from crying.

Your dad’s hand held the back of your head while you buried your head in his chest. You ate dinner at the kitchen table together. You felt lost without Leon. He left your house, you stayed, and yet it felt like you’d woken up in a completely different place than the one you’d fallen asleep in. It wasn’t bad, just different. You wished there was a way to put all of the parts of your life together. You’d have to put super glue on mismatched puzzle pieces. It would always be a futile effort. You had Leon, you have dad, you’ll probably never have mom. 

“What are you thinking about?” Your dad’s voice called you back to the present. 

“Nothing,” you said, faking a smile. 

“What are you really thinking about?”

“Mom,” you said. You were, you always got stuck when you thought about her because you were trying to imagine a woman who was a stranger to you. 

“Mom? Why?” You expected him to be somber, maybe bitter even, but he was intrigued, it seemed. 

“She’s been on my mind recently. I’ve been thinking about you, my dad, my parent, and- and I don’t want to sound greedy because I’m lucky to have you here, but I wish there was more than just us.”

“You’ve got Leon,” he offered. 

You scoffed, waving it away with your hand. “Don’t bring up Leon right now.”

“Is there drama between the two of you?”

“No, I wouldn’t call it ‘drama’.” 

It’s way, way worse than that, you thought.

“You’ll get over it, he’ll get over it. It always works itself out.”

“Who are you and what did you do with my dad? What’s with all this optimism?” You playfully nudged his shoulder. 

“What can I say? This whole therapy thing has given me a new outlook on life.”

He paused before taking on a more serious tone. “And, a near-death experience gave me a new appreciation for life. I didn’t care much about my own life. I could take it or leave it.”

“Dad…” You couldn’t find the right words. 

“No, no, let me finish: you are important to me.” He put his hand on your shoulder and locked eyes with you. “I remember going in and out of consciousness the day of the accident, and seeing your face. I hate to see you cry like that. I didn’t realize how much the things I do affect you.”

You raised an eyebrow. I’m your child, you thought, how would it not affect me?

“I’m serious. It sounds stupid. I was being selfish, and I always knew that, but I didn’t realize how much you needed me. You had Leon, and you always liked him better anyway. I figured you didn’t mind being left alone with him sometimes.”

“I don’t mind seeing Leon, but I still need my dad.”

“I know. I was making excuses for my own behavior. I know it’s a little late to say it, but I want to be a good father.”

“Better late than never. Better than mom…”

“No,” he said, “you don’t know your mother’s reasons for leaving. It wasn’t you. She loved you.”

“She left because of you.” You were blunt with him. You usually were. 

“She couldn’t take the drinking problem, my constant working. If she could’ve taken you with her, I think she would have.”

“If she wanted to, she would have.”

“No, babies are expensive, and I was always the breadwinner. I think she hoped it would be a wake-up call and I would get better. She thought it was the right choice for you.”

You sighed and tried not to roll your eyes. You wished he’d get angry at her for leaving. Shouldn’t that be easy? Shouldn’t that be right? Whatever, you thought, maybe he’s like you - good at making peace with people leaving. 

“I know it wasn’t due to my parenting, but you turned out pretty darn great.”

“I’m kind of a disaster, actually.”

“Blame the ‘disaster’ parts of yourself on me. You’re kind, you’re funny, you’re smart-”

“I’m not that smart, trust me.”

I’m such an idiot. You have no idea. 

“I’m not going to ask because somehow I feel like whatever you’re up to, it’s something I don’t want to hear about. Just promise me you’ll be safe, okay?”

“I promise. As long as you promise, too.” You held out your pinky. 

“Promise,” he said, interlocking his pinky finger with yours. 

You let yourself believe him. You decided to take a dose of his optimism, irrational as it seemed. At least let yourself fantasize, right? You’ve got something. Maybe not everything, but something. Maybe not Leon, but you’ve got dad, and isn’t that what you wanted the whole time? 

That same night, Leon went out with a woman he’d been casually talking to - it was time to move on from you, at least in the romantic way. 

You’d always have some sort of bond.

Leon sat through dinner, dissecting his steak out of boredom. It wasn’t worth the price. He could cook a better one himself. The woman sitting across from him was talking about something, but he wasn’t quite sure what due to the fact that he wasn’t listening. 

“Leon?” She said, irritated. 

“Yeah?” He said with the least fake-looking smile he could muster. 

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, why? What did I miss?”

“I asked you-”

“-have you seen the movie ‘Before Sunrise’?”

“Yeah? I never really understood the hype.”

“What? It’s a great movie. The sequel is great, too.”

“I didn’t see it.”

“You should. Maybe it’s unrealistic to think about that once in a lifetime love, but don’t you think we should try to find that? No matter how irrational it seems?”

“You do realize you’re on a date right now, and you’re talking about love and romance like it’s this lofty, unattainable concept.”

“I see your point.”

The waiter comes by with the check and Leon thanks him, and thanks God silently, too. 

“I don’t think you’re ever going to find it if you can’t even pay attention to a woman. I like you, Leon, and I’d ask you to come home with me, but-”

Leon knew he shouldn’t see you again, but when he got his credit card out of his wallet to pay for dinner, he saw your picture. He’d always kept it there. He’d change the photo about once a year and keep the others in his bedside drawer. It’s a picture of you in your cap and gown. He was so proud of you; he is so proud of you. He loved you then; he loves you now. The problem is that he’s falling in love with you now. It’s not just familial; it’s not lust, either.

He thought about When Harry Met Sally, which is your third favorite movie after Jerry Maguire and Before Sunrise. The woman asked him if he wanted to take this back to her place, and he was barely paying attention when he said ‘no.’ He gave her a half-assed excuse and dumped tic-tacs in his mouth so he didn’t have wine on his breath because he knew you hate the taste of red wine. He wasn’t drunk, though. If he were, he wouldn’t drive. Leon’s an idiot, Leon’s a fuck-up, but Leon knows he’s a shitty driver. He won’t risk his life on his way to you. This isn’t a tragedy, he hoped.

He forgot your dad was probably home, but fuck it. If he’s really in love, he’ll confess it in public.

“I’m in love with you,” he said when you opened the door. It wasn’t ‘Hello’. You couldn’t say, ‘You had me at hello’ because he began with, ‘I’m in love with you.’

You stared at him long enough that he started fumbling through apologies and excuses. You didn’t say anything. You pulled him into a kiss, which was to say what he should’ve known all along.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

[satorusugurugurl]

Models

Pairing: Nude Model!Geto Suguru x Model!FAB!Reader

Word Count: 1,977

Warnings: Nudity, flirting, suggestiveness, fluffy goodness

A/N: This fluffy Friday idea had me giggling and kicking my legs. So intimate and sweet!! Nemsmkekdkdk!!

Nude life modeling.

It was easy, paid pretty well, and it helped you get money for essentials when your shitty part-time job didn't schedule you. All you were required to do was strip down to your birthday suit and pose for a bunch of art students to draw you. The sessions lasted between two to five hours, with breaks. Sitting around naked while posing was an easy way to make twenty dollars an hour.

After a rough week of hardly any tips at the coffee shop, you desperately needed to pick up a modeling gig for the weekend. You needed groceries, and you had been dying to buy the newest book of your favorite series that just came out. Luckily, an evening art class needed a female model. You jumped at the opportunity, not wanting to eat instant Ramen for the third time this week.

Trotting into the art studio, you found it empty, allowing you to change into a plain white robe before the students arrived. Just as you tied the sash around your waist, the door to the classroom opened. You turned around expecting to find the teacher, only to find the sexiest man you’ve ever seen in your life.

He had dark eyes and raven hair tied up into a bun. You could hear the music blaring through his headphones as he tossed his backpack onto the ground before pulling his shirt over his head. With a squeak, you covered your eyes as if you weren’t already in the nude yourself.

“E-excuse me!!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, “Excuse me!! I-I’m in here!!” when you heard the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling, you grabbed a sketchbook off one of the desks, chucking it to the ground in front of his feet.

The man before you jolted, quickly pulling his headphones out. His dark eyes met you for the first time since he entered. “Oh shit!” He hid behind one of the canvases in the classroom. “Fuck! Sorry! Sorry!” You felt like your whole face was on fire.

“N-No, it’s okay! Maybe I have the wrong classroom!”

“Are you here to model for Yaga’s class?” the stranger asked tentatively.

“Uhm, yeah.”

“You're in the right place.”

Slowly blinking, you watched as the stranger peeked his head out from behind the canvas. “I am?” Your eyes wander toward the shirt and belt on the ground before him. “Then why are you—?”

The stranger stepped out in all his shirtless glory. Fuck he was hot, he had muscles for days. While you undressed the rest of him with your eyes, he stepped towards you. His fingers nervously played with his gauges as he stood in front of you, giving you a better view of his body. His muscles and the curves of his body would be perfect for any art student to sketch. If you were good with a pencil, you would have sketched a picture of him because it would be rude to pull your phone out and snap a photo of the insanely hot man in front of you.

“Yaga is going over body movement between two individuals. Like couples and stuff.” He gestured between the two of you. “That’s why I'm here. I guess Yaga failed to mention that in his ad today.” The strange brushed strands of his black hair out of his face. “The other model who was supposed to be doing this with me got food poisoning, so he was on a bit of a time crunch trying to find somebody to take her place.”

“Oh—” your fingers scratch your cheek, “right, okay, so I've always done solo work.”

The dark-haired man hummed in understanding. “Right, sorry he didn’t specify that in the ad. If you’re uncomfortable with it, I can let him know. If we have to cancel the class, that’s fine..” that was probably the best thing to do. But your stomach growled, hungry for something other than instant noodles.

“Ugh, no, it's fine, I’ll do it.” Why you agreed to do it was beyond you. Posing with a stranger, a hot one at that, was one of the craziest things you'd done. “Is it like back-to-back poses? Or are we talking cringe-worthy 90s family picture poses?”

The man before you chuckled as he shook his head, a dusty shade of rose spread over his cheeks. “That has to be one of the funniest things I've ever heard while modeling.” he glanced at the small wooden stage in the vented room. “It shouldn't be too crazy. Probably just us laying down or something.”

“Ah, very cool mystery man.”

“Oh right, sorry.” He held his hand out to you. “I’m Geto Suguru.”

“Well, it's nice to meet you.” You introduced yourself before leaving the room to allow him to change. “Just come get me when you’re done.”

Once standing in the hall, you run your finger through your hair, tugging it gently. How did your simple modeling evening turn into an evening of modeling with the super hot guy? The more important question was how you were going to get through this entire evening being next to said hot stranger in the nude?!

Keep it together. You got this! You told yourself and attempted to ease your nerves. The following 3 to 4 hours would fly by fast, and then you would never see each other again. If you were lying on the floor next to each other? Naked. It wasn’t a super big deal. Just you and a stranger lying on the ground!

Two hours into the session, you stared directly into Geto’s eyes. “Geto,” you spoke softly, attempting not to distract the students around you.

“What’s up? Do you need a break?”

“No, I was just going to say I wish we were doing a 90s family photo pose. You know those kinds where you would sit on a stool, and I would awkwardly place my hands on one of your shoulders while we stare off into the distance?” Geto’s shoulders shook as he tried to contain his laughter.

You had to make fun of a situation like this. Where you were naked, straddling the hips of a nude man you didn't know, only having a thin cloth separating you from each other. It wasn't as awkward as you thought it would be. Thanks to Geto; he made it extremely comfortable for you. Asking for your consent before touching you, he often checked in to see how you were feeling. He was the perfect gentleman.

Geto also happens to be just your type. He was handsome, sweet, and had a killer body; you felt drunk off of his smell and touch. But would it be wrong to ask him out after doing a job together? You wanted to keep things strictly professional. Your stomach, unfortunately, didn’t get the same memo.

It grumbled helplessly, begging you to feed it something with value instead of instant noodles, protein bars, or candy. God, it was so loud you prayed Geto didn't hear it, that he was too focused on posing to notice your stomach’s begging pleas. You thought you might have been in the clear until Geto gently squeezed your hips, drawing your eyes towards him.

“Hungry?” he asked with a slight smirk.

“N-No.”

“Huh, because it sounds to me like you are.” You shift slightly as if moving would cause your stomach to growl at a softer volume. “W-Wait don—nngh.” Something thick and hard pressed firmly against your ass, making you squeak.

Geto groans, his fingers digging deeper into your hips, stopping you from moving any further. All you can do is stare at him. His eyes remain shut tight. Was he hard? Was he, this god-built man, popping a boner with you on top?

“Geto.” You whisper, a smile tugging at your mouth.

“Please don’t.”

“Oh, so you can bring up my stomach growling, but I can’t bring up you hard co-“

Eyes snap open as he shushes you. “I’m sorry, I just think you’re cute and funny. I tried thinking about my grandma naked, but my brain would rather think of how good you feel in my lap.” He breathes out a minty sigh.

His candor had you blushing as you gripped his shoulder. You remain still like that until your stomach grows louder this time. Geto sputters out a laugh as you push yourself back an inch, rolling against his cock, causing a moan to break in through his laughter.

“Fuck, please stop doing that, or I’m gonna cum.”

“Already? Didn’t see you as a pre-mature ejaculator.”

“I’m not—-normally.”

“Says the guy who just said he was gonna cum.”

Geto cocks a pierced brow at you. “I’m like the energizer bunny; I can go all night.” The room feels hot, and it’s not from the lights on you, and it’s not from constricting clothing. The classroom is unbearably hot because of the building tension between you two.

“I doubt that.” You confess in a whisper, rolling your eyes. “How long do you last? Two minutes tops?”

He scoffed gently, kneading your hips. “Is that a challenge?” The urge to kiss and take him up on his challenge eats at you like acid. You inch closer, lips nearly touching, when someone clears their throat behind you.

The sound of them clearing their throat reminds you that you are not alone. The both of you are in the middle of a classroom modeling for a bunch of students. Students that can clearly see and possibly hear the conversation you two are having.

“Later.”

That single word puts a pin in your whole conversation. Geto’s erection goes down while your stomach continues to growl, winning the softest of chuckles from the man you're still straddling. Somehow, by the grace of the gods, you manage to make it through the entire class without your stomach eating itself or grinding down on Geto, much to your amazement.

With the class over, Geto lets you change in the main room while he uses the supply closet. You finish before him, grabbing your things, eyes darting towards the closet. How does one ask out a fellow nude model? Was it just the heat of the moment that had you hungry for his touch? Or was there something truly there between you?

The never-ending questions stopped as Geto stepped out, pushing his hair back, eyes scanning the room. The instant they find you, he’s crossing the floor faster, his backpack slung over his shoulder. There was something in his smile that made you weak in the knees.

“Do you like soba noodles?”

“Yeah, I do.” Your stomach growls in agreement.

A smile so smooth it gives the butter a run for its money graces Suguru’s face. “Let me take you out for dinner and a drink,” he starts heading for the door, “before that stomach gremlin decides to eat me instead of food.” Heart racing, you grab your things, joining his side, hands clasped behind your back.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, Geto, but the chances of me eating you after dinner are high.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes, I'd say there is a ninety-five percent chance you’re on the menu for dessert if you want to come back to my apartment.”

“Funny, I was going to say there’s a ninety-eight percent chance I was going to eat you for dessert~”

Glancing up, you nearly stumble as Geto sticks his pierced tongue out. “Then maybe I’ll accept your challenge and prove I can last longer than two minutes.”

You smirk, licking your lips with a starved expression. “Show me what you got from the energizer bunny.”

Forever Tag List:

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

[dilfl0v3rss]

Think about this spoiled reader who parents gave her everything but when she meet Ony he shows her that it doesn’t work like that with him !!!!!!! 🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾

YES YES YESSSSS

you didn’t see yourself as a spoiled girl. your parents just loved you so much they gave you everything you wanted because they wanted you to have it. regardless, since they raised you with the thought that you’d be handed everything you wanted in life, it was very hard for you to keep a boyfriend. the men you’ve messed with either couldn’t handle you, couldn’t afford you, or both and you were sick of it. that was until you met your current boyfriend onyankopon.

you and ony have been going on dates here and there and they have been great. he always pays, always drives, and never has you lift a finger. you were living the sweet life and got to be the same “spoiled” girl you were with your parents. the two of you made it official five months ago and there hasn’t been any problems since. he fucked you the way you wanted, bought you what you wanted, and always made sure you were just happy as could be.

“ooouuu these are pretty!” you squealed as you practically snatched the pretty boots off the rack. ony chuckled behind you, loving the way your ass looked in your pretty mini skirt as you waited for a worker to approach you. “mama it’ll be quicker if you just ask em for help. waitin for an employee to see that you want something is crazy” you turned around towards your boyfriend, giving him an annoyed look before letting your irritation fall from your tongue. “well my mom and dad always had the employee come t’me. i never had to go to anybody when they would take me shopping” ony rolled his eyes at you. ‘here she go again’ he thought as he quietly walked away from you and too an employee.

as he came back with the woman behind him, he was annoyed to see you already trying on the pair of boots. “ma why you ain’t tell me someone came to help you” his annoyance was beginning to grow as he watched you roll your eyes at him before sliding your foot into the other boot. “didn’t feel like looking f’you” before he could lecture you, your disrespectful ass lifted your boot and lightly kicked it onto the thigh of his black sweatpants, the dust from the ground immediately rubbing on the fabric as you spoke without a care in the world “zip it for me papa. wanna walk around in em”

ony never really seen this side of you before, but he didn’t like it. he tightly grabbed your leg before sliding the boot of your foot and putting it down next to you. you rolled your eyes at him for the second time today, mumbling a “niggas can’t do shit right” before putting it back on and zipping them yourself. you pranced around the store, doing spins and twirls in the boots and stopping at every mirror to check yourself out. “i want emmm!” you obnoxiously yelled before walking back towards your irritated partner at the front of the store. “baby i want themmmm” ony looked down at your pretty face, honestly contemplating getting you the boots until he remembered the big ass dusk stain on his pants.

“no” the word when in one ear and out the other as you sat down and took the boots off, putting them back in their box before walking on line for him to pay. ony was honestly surprised at this behavior, his brown eyes watching you wait in line for over ten minutes until you were next up. you whipped your head towards him, already irritated that you had to wait on line before you spoke. “come here i said i want these” the way you spoke to him brought the attention of many other people in the store, including the cashier as she embarrassingly waited for one of you to speak. “m’not buyin you nun mama. you acting crazy right now”

your jaw dropped at his words. there was no way this man just told you no. your eyes instantly began to water with anger as you stomped off the line and i to ony’s face. “yes. you. will. get over there right now and buy me those fucking boots” anger quickly washed over ony’s features as he tried his hardest not to wrap his strong hand around your neck. the best he could do was walk away. everyone in the store took a deep sigh of relief as ony tried his best to deescalate the situation. you weren’t allowing that though. you followed him out the store, practically stomping as you went to grab his wallet from his pocket so you can get your boots. “fine i guess i’ll just take it”

as soon as your hand got close enough, you felt ony yank your arm towards him. his legs not missing a step as he practically dragged you to the family bathroom with him. as he let you go you quickly began raising your voice at him to show your frustration. “you just embarrassed me in there are you crazy? pull your fucking wallet out and get me my boots ony. or are you too broke?” you provoked him with a smirk, your heart beginning to race as you watched a smirk grow on his lips too. “you askin or you telling me mama?”

you were clearly telling him, but you didn’t dare answer his question. dread running through your veins as ony quietly walked behind you in the mirror over the sink. “i knew you was a little spoiled, but ian know you was this bad” your palms began to sweat as you listened to your boyfriends deep voice caress your ears. “m…m’not spoiled” ony ignored you, lightly grabbing the back of your neck before slowly bending you over the sink. of course you let him, his change in demeanor making your pussy soak through your panties. his eyes never left yours in the mirror, a stern look on his face as he slowly began to pull on the waistband on his sweats.

“i know your parents liked t’feed into that bad attitude, buying you whatever your spoiled lil heart wanted” ony slid your panties down as he spoke, his hard dick rubbing against your ass before be began to line himself up with your entrance.

“but i’m not them” he thrusted into you fully, not bothering to cover your mouth from the loud cry you let out into the air. the stinging stretch of his dick without prep made tears immediately well in your eyes as ony fucked you at an unrelenting pace. “you gon learn how to talk t’me cause ian gon give you whatever you want, but ima give you what you need” his thrusts were deep and robust as you tried your hardest not to scream. ony just watched you through the mirror, brown eyes raking over your pretty face and body as he finished his statement.

“right now what you need is a lesson, and im a damn good teacher mama”

it only took fifteen minutes for ony to have you whipped into shape. your legs wobbling at the two of you walked to the car from the mall. you could’ve swore you were hearing little squelching sounds coming from your pussy as ony’s thick load leaked out of you and onto your panties. like the gentleman he is, ony opened your door for you. giving you a kind smile before watching you sit down and put on your seatbelt. as he made his way to his side of the car, he opened the door and threw a small bag holding a new pair of sweatpants in the back before sitting down in his seat. “how you feel princess? been quiet since we left the mall”

you’re eyes quickly moved to his face, his smirk making butterflies move about in your stomach as you quietly replied. “m’fine daddy. want some ice cream” ony’s face quickly went from happy to stern, making your arousal begin to grow at the power he had over you. “c-can we get ice cream please baby?” a small smile grew on his face again as he started the car. ony put a strong hand on your thigh as he pulled out of the parking lot with one hand. “of course we can mama, being so polite” a smile spread onto your face now as you watched your boyfriend drive in the direction of the nearby ice cream shop.

maybe being good wasn’t so bad.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Warm Me Up

Summary: Illyria is cold, Rhys has some ideas on how to stay warm.

Content Warnings: Smut; dirty talk; little bit of cursing.

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Illyria was a wasteland, nothing but frigid mountains and harsh winds, you'd never understood how anything survived here. Your mate had flown you in an hour ago, you'd immediately had to sit in front of the cabin's fireplace, smothered in blankets, a warm cup of tea in your hands to avoid your teeth chattering and your fingertips from turning blue. The boys were somehow training outside shirtless. You could see them from the window, sparring, even as the relentless wind continued to beat against the windows.

You furrowed deeper into your mountain of blankets, still so damned cold. How were they managing that? How had Cassian survived his childhood, alone and hungry in this for so long? Was there something built into Illyrians to help them survive?

You tapped a mental hand against the bond hesitantly, worried you might distract your mate and he'd get hurt... again. Rhys had gotten used to your random questions, but thd first couple of times had been so sudden he'd lost focus, Az had clipped him across the shoulder, drawing blood. It hadn't even scarred, had healed with the help of his powers in less than hour. He'd probably forgotten about it. You hadn't.

Your mate responded with a gentle caress against your mental shields, like he'd brushed a hand over you mind, urging you to come forward.

"Do Illyrians run hot?" You asked.

A dark chuckle ran across the bond, sending a shiver over your spine. "Why don't you come out here and find out?"

You rolled your eyes. "And freeze to death? No thank you."

"It's not even snowing yet.," he let your peer through his eyes, the landscape dripping from yesterday's rain, but it was more mud than anything.

"I've seen warmer places in the Winter Court."

"There are plenty of ways to stay warm up here," Rhys purred, his voice a playful caress against your mind. "You're welcome to join us in the birken when we're done."

"And leave the safety of my little nest by the fire? I'll have frostbite by the time I make it there."

"Give me five minutes." The bond snapped closed and then Cassian was screaming obscenities from where they were sparring near the side of the cabin.

"THAT'S CHEATING YOU BASTARD!" Azriel shouted.

"RHYSAND I CAN'T FUCKING SEE!"

You pulled the comforter off the top of your head to try and get a good look through the closest window, but there was nothing but darkness against the glass. It was still too early in the day for the sun to be going down, the darkness outside rattling against the windows like a harsh wind. Rhys very rarely unleashed that much power, but you felt your own flare to life in your chest at the sight of it. Like calls to like, and your starborn powers had always risen to the challenge it found in Night Triumphant.

It wasn't even a full five minutes before the back door was thrown open so fast the old wood cracked against the wall. The wind came in with it, making you burrow deeper into your mound of blankets to avoid it.

Rhys must have kicked off his boots at the door, because you heard it slam shut and then nothing until large hands settled on your blanket clad shoulders.

You jumped with a shriek of surprise that had your mate bending over the back of the couch to kiss your barely exposed forehead apologetically, his skin colder than the wind beating against the walls.

"Ack! You're an ice cube!" You hissed, twisting to get away.

He chuckled as he pulled away and went to the closet near the front door.

"Don't bother, I've already raided it," you warned.

He opened it anyway, then frowned at all the empty shelves. "You weren't kidding." His next move was to go to the stack of wood neatly organized by the fire place and throw more in, the blaze illuminating the sharp planes of his face. He wasn't wearing a shirt, training leathers hanging low on his hips, a fine sheen of sweat making his bronze skin glow in the firelight.

Under normal circumstances, you would have jumped right on him, ran your tongue over his abs, traced the swirl of ink across his chest. Something about him in leathers made you weak in the knees, all rational thought out the window. The only thing keeping you in place this time was the thought of loosing the little pocket of warmth you had created.

He felt your gaze of course, turning away from the fire to look at you. "Better?" His voice had gone down an octave, his pupils dilating.

"Little," you admitted, though him being so close, looking like that might have been more of a reason for the heat you were starting to feel than the fire.

He walked to you slowly, intently, violet eyes fixed on you.

Your heartbeat quickened in your chest as he knelt in front of you.

"Think you can make room for me in there?" He kept his hands on the top blanket of your little cocoon, waiting for permission.

"I don't know, how cold are you?" You teased; this would be the last little bit of your resolve.

He slid a hand under the blankets, fingers dragging up slowly, intently over your calves.

"Cold," you whimpered, but the shiver that ran through you had nothing to do with the temperature, not as he traced his way up your thighs, only stopping when he found the hem of your sweater.

He leaned and pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose first, then the corners of your lips, his breath warm against your face, the contrast between the two temperatures making your head spin. You wanted to reel away and lean in all the same time.

"Just for a second," he promised, "then I'll get you nice and warm."

You opened the blanket, and that intense violet gaze took stock of your attire: His old sweater, so loose and baggy it looked like a dress on you, and knee high, fuzzy pink socks. Pants had felt like a waste of time, not when sifting through the dresser meant time spent away from the fire.

Rhys all but jumped on top of you, pushing you down into the couch cushions, the blankets tangling between you as he crashed his lips against yours.

Rhys, as High Lord, was always so poised and put together, everything about him calculated and curated to create the necessary masks of court duties; but alone, like this, when it was just the two of you, no masks necessary, he let that unending restraint slip, kissing you and running his hands over your body like a man starved. His tongue swept into your mouth as he slid a hand under your sweater, deft fingers dragging up your skin to cup your breast.

He'd kept his promise about the cold, you'd only felt it for a moment before he'd settled between your legs, using a bit of magic to untangle the blankets and rearrange them over the two of you. You ran a hand through his hair, scraping your nails lightly over his scalp as he playfully gave your nipple a tug.

"Better?" He rasped, lips barely off yours like he couldn't bear to be that far from you.

The warmth of his weight on top of you would have been enough, but the way he kept running his hands over any bit of you he could reach, the way he kissed you again and again and again was enough to make you forget you had ever been cold in the first place.

"Much better," you confirmed as he broke away to nip at your neck.

He chuckled as you arched into his touch; whimpering lightly as his tongue laved over the sting of his teeth on your throat.

"Can't decide," he murmured into your skin, "if I should fuck you in my sweater or not?"

Heat coiled between your legs, even further when he rocked his hips into your center, even with the clothes separating the two of you, the friction was enough to make you moan.

He nipped under your jaw, "Look so pretty in it, but I gotta get you all warmed up don't I? My poor little mate, not used to the cold."

Now that he was with you, you wanted, needed, every bit of contact with his body you could get. The sweater, so warm and comforting before, now felt like a tremendously itchy obstacle keeping you from him. "Want it off," you complained, trying to find your voice around another moan as he rutted his hips into you again, hard even through his leathers.

He chuckled as he fisted the hem and started pulling it up your body. "Wear it again for me later?"

You nodded as he pulled it over your head and tossed it over the back of the couch. Distantly, you hoped Rhys had the good sense to send his brothers away for a little while since you had stopped hearing them moving around outside, but had no time to ask as he started kissing his way down your body, pausing to give some attention to your peaked nipples. A whine tore from your throat as he swirled his tongue over one and then the other.

"Love when you make those little noises for me," he purred into your mind, not wanting to remove his lips from your body to speak.

"Rhys," you whimpered, body arching into him as he nipped at your sensitive skin.

"You're gonna look so pretty, all marked up under my sweater later," he sent an image of you, covered in hickeys from your throat to your hips down the bond as he continued to move slowly down your body.

Rhys liked to push you, liked to see how worked up he could get you, first with that silver tongue of his, then his hands, he could keep this up for hours. You, however, where so desperate for more friction, to fill the ache now burning between your legs, bucked your hips, squirming underneath him now. "Please. Need you."

He scraped his teeth along he hem of your underwear, humming his approval. Rhys grinned against your skin, all male satisfaction as he held your hips in place. "So impatient. I thought you were freezing to death in here? Don't you want to get warm, Darling?"

Warm? Your skin was on fire in every spot he had touched, the warmth of his body spreading to every point of contact he gave. It was becoming too much and not enough, you needed more, more, more.

"Please!"

He caught the hem of your panties in his teeth and pulled them slowly down your hips, hands skimming your hips and thighs, kneading soft skin. Your legs widened for him automatically, instinctively, despite the fact that you were now uncomfortably wet from his ministrations.

He ran his tongue against your center, humming his approval, blasting it down the bond. "So wet, and I've barely even touched you."

You pinched your eyes shut, overwhelmed already. He really was too damn good at this. No amount of time would ever be enough to satisfy the well of need you had for him. You blasted that desperation, that ache for him right down the bond as words failed you, as he continued his exploration of your dripping core with his tongue. Stars erupted behind your closed eyelids as he chuckled down the bond, pleased with your reactions to his body.

You were sure you were begging for him, whimpering and pleading nonsense as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, but the words faded in and out of your consciousness. There was only Rhys, the movements of his tongue, the feeling of his fingertips digging pleasantly tight in your hips, the heat of skin wherever it touched you. Your eyes rolled back into your head, body arching, hands tangling in his hair as the edge rose up to meet and you and you toppled over it with a scream that sounded an awful lot like your mate's name.

"Such a good girl," he purred as he lapped up the evidence of your pleasure.

You're whole body shook as he kissed his way back up your body, grinning against your flushed skin the whole way. He was so warm, when he kissed you again, the taste of your release still on his plush lips, your only thoughts were on how you could get more of that warmth, until it has seeped into your bones, erased any trace of the cold that had laid so deep beneath.

You threaded your hands in his hair, now a mess across his forehead, whimpering. "Need you still."

He grinned as he caught your lower lip between his teeth in a playful nip. "I know, love."

You moved a hand to the small of his back, pulling him closer.

"You'll have me until there are no longer stars in the sky." The bond flooded with more warmth and affection, as deep as your need for him ran, his was equal, there was no end to what he could give you.

You kissed him again, even as your legs wrapped around his waist, a bit of magic finally removing those damned leathers. Maybe you'd ask him to put them back on later, so you could enjoy the sight of him in the aftermath as much as he would you, but those were questions for later.

"I love you," you whimpered as he finally slide into you, slowly, casually, like there was all the time in the world for the two of you to enjoy each other.

He fit like he was made just for you, the stretch just uncomfortable for a moment before the pleasure made your back arch and your toes curl. He moaned into your throat, pushing his nose into your sweat dampened skin, inhaling your scent as he pushed all the way in to you.

You wondered, distantly, if the stars you were seeing were his making, or something that appeared for him too. The way he panted into your skin as he rocked his hips, testing you, made you think he saw them too.

"So perfect," he moaned as he slid almost fully out.

Your nails clawed at his shoulders, begging for him to come back and he plunged back in a little more forcefully this time, the couch groaning beneath the two of you.

You rocked your hips to meet his thrusts, hands still trailing down the contours of his spine in a move that would be sure to leave marks of your own. He nipped at your neck and shoulders when you pushed too hard, skin breaking beneath your fingertips, but you knew he didn't mind, know he relished in being marked up by you, like it was a badge of honor. You'd leave hickeys on him afterwards, when the pleasure building between your legs wasn't so white hot, when you could focus your attention somewhere other than the need burning it's way through you.

His hand snaked down between your legs, drawing you closer and closer to the edge again.

"Rhys," a prayer, a mantra, the only thing that made sense as pleasure turned all rational thought to mush.

"I've got you," he rasped in your ear, every muscle taught as he rocked into you again and again and again. His pace was quickly becoming more frantic, his breath hot on your throat as he moaned into your skin. It was that sound, so desperate and low right beneath your ear, coupled with the movement of his deft fingers, the angle of his cock inside you, all hurtling you so quickly towards the edge that you didn't notice it was there until you toppled over it. Your mate followed with a roar, his own release warm inside you.

You clung to him, trembling, panting, as you came down from your high, the familiar weight of him atop you grounding in the aftermath. He snaked an arm around you as he positioned the two of you on your sides, sharing the couch now. You buried your face in the crook of his neck as he kissed the top of your head, gently.

"Warm now, darling?" He asked softly, a hint of teasing still there, even as he recovered his breath.

He hadn't pulled out of you yet; you bit your lip in thought as you tossed a leg over his, bringing you flush against his hips. You were sensitive, the movement made you wince a little, but even after all that, you still wanted more of him. Perhaps it would never be enough. Like the Illyrians that called this frigid place home, there was always going to be something that pushed you back towards the fire, that damned insatiable need to get warm.

"I think I'm still a little cold," you purred, eyes glinting playfully.

Your mate chuckled at the challenge in your tone, violet eyes narrowing into where you were still joined. "Can't have that, can we?"

The fire roared in the fireplace, a bit of your mate's magic flaring, making sure there was more heat in the cabin, before his lips were on yours again, chasing away any hint of cold before it could touch you.

[yandere-yearnings]

Okay but see I'm so petty I would ignore vio forever now until he apologized that man needs to get on his mf knees if he even wanted me to look his damn direction fr

the promised continuation of the vio angst🥰 i didn't screenshot all the asks requesting for it bc then this would just be a very long post of nonnies slowly cursing vio out more and more violently with each pic ahaha (which i love tbh😩💕) but know that i've read each and every single one🥺🩷 i wrote this one in his third-person limited so there's a bit more insight into his thoughts❗❗

(that being said, there isn't much grovelling and his asking for your forgiveness here which i'm really sorry abt. i did try to go that route originally to align w/ some of the requests i've gotten, but vio actually just isn't the type. at least at the point in the relationship being depicted!! gotta keep in mind he is super arrogant and has probably never apologised once in his life😔💔 tho, he is suffering in his own way, rest assured. the silent treatment kinda broke him haha)

warning that there is a bit of violence here and gaslighting (??), ig just typically what you'd expect to see in a yandere work,, this really ran away from me bc it's like 800 words😭

Three days had passed. Vio sat inside his trailer, feet up on the dressing table, more annoyed than he’d ever been in his entire life. Blue hair in his reflection, mussed from his constant ruffling, looking unkempt and barely like himself — and it was all your fault. His agency was paying you a salary in five figures and your only job was to take care of him, which inherently, you were doing, but you were also ignoring him and Vio couldn’t stand it.

His eyes flicked over almost instantly when you walked in, tracking every movement from your shutting the door to hanging your coat over the back of the closest chair. All Vio could see were the snowflakes in your lashes because that was all you’d let him, your gaze downcast, avoiding his. Pride made him bite his lips, because actually, he fucking missed the way you’d look at him. He missed your voice and he missed your pretty words, and it was all lumping in his throat so he couldn’t admit it although he wanted to.

Something weak sounded from him; a desperate grab for your attention that didn’t work. He kicked his script to the floor knowing you’d pick it up, then watched with a clenched jaw as you did exactly that, not even a fleeting glare in his direction. Somehow, Vio felt like he was running out of time, papers placed back neatly and your back already turning, it was the curl of worry in his gut that had his hand snapping to your wrist and tugging you back to him.

“You,” he gritted, frustrated at the pull back, at your resistance — no, your refusal of him. “Don’t fucking ignore me!”

Clearly, you weren’t listening, for all that Vio wrested you into his lap, your eyes wouldn’t even meet his through the mirror. Your bones solid against his palm, and he squeezed, hard enough to take you in, to let out the anger. Though, watching your face twist in pain, tendons in your neck constricting just to cut off the whimper, Vio didn’t even know who to be mad at anymore. 

All he wanted was for you to give in. 

He’d missed you so much, he would dream of you saying his name again. As you always would, and give him that love he was addicted to — yours, that tasted like kisses to open flesh. Raw and sincere to the point that Vio would rather stay splayed and bloodied instead of getting help. He didn’t feel like he could come back from this, or who he’d become because of you. If he was falling from grace, he’d hale you with him.

“Y/N…” This time, it came as a whisper, erratic mind lulled quick to the sensation of your pulse pressing firm against his fingers. Counting throbs, taking breaths for you, telling himself to be kinder, kinder. “Talk to me,” his forehead rested on your shoulder blade, “let’s not do this anymore, hm?”

Gentility got a rise out of you, it seemed, in the form of a gasp and the violent twists to free yourself that followed. “Don’t you dare,” your tone was accusatory, yet when Vio leaned away he saw the tell in your tears, “you’re not allowed to act fucking civil after what you did.”

His brow twitched. Irritation. He didn’t have a clue what you were talking about. Either way, acting was already his whole career — it might as well have been his entire damn life, and he wasn’t going to be reminded. If you weren’t a director and he wasn’t the star of your show, he didn’t need you telling him what he could and couldn’t do. His grip on you tightened.

“I didn’t do anything,” he hissed.

Outside it had begun to rain, heavy droplets melting the sleet from the windows. Steady patters the furthest thing from therapeutic in his current headspace, Vio almost missed your broken, “liar.”

Knocking his knee to white wood had the make-up brush holder tipping, contents rolling around, more noise buzzing in his head as he adjusted you. Finally, you were forced to focus on him, and Vio's eyes were unblinking, boring into yours. “You’re making baseless accusations.” 

“You told me no one would love someone like me.”

“I asked you who could,” Vio bit back instantly, then, his voice softened, “...and the answer is me.”

Purple dotted into red when he let you go, wiping at your wet face. Speckled like poison in a garden of roses — what he was to you, and what you were to him. Vio thought it was fitting, beauty in that you were both to die of each other. His incurable illness. His darling disease. You shouldn’t have gotten so close to that gaffer.

“Only I can. Only I am allowed. Remember that, and love me in turn.”