#and this is even after losing three limbs

[mintyys-blog]

its 1am and im feeling like i wanna hurt ngl, could i rq what the mark variants would feel and act like about an s/o whose begging their mark to kill them cause they'd rather die by his hands than at all. Like it could be because of an illness they have with no cure, that they got tired rotting from the inside out or a wound so fatal, they'd rather end the moment quick with the touch of the man they love being their last memory. Some of the marks would probs be angry, angry that they'd ask him to do that, and angry at himself cause he WOULD do that for them, because he loves them sm to save them and not let them live through that pain.

Go haywire teehee🩷

HEADCANONS | when the variants s/o asks for them to kill her

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST | WARNINGS: death, blood

MAIN MARK

You were trembling in his arms, your skin cold and clammy as your breath came in uneven, shallow bursts. The poison was spreading too fast—no cure, no chance. You had hours, maybe less. Every second hurt more.

“Mark… please.” Your voice cracked, fragile and desperate. “I don’t want to die in agony. I don’t want to be scared. Just… if I have to go, let me go feeling your touch. Your love. Please.”

He froze.

“No.” His voice broke instantly. “Don’t ask me to do that. Don’t—don’t put that on me.”

Tears fell hot and fast down his cheeks, his grip tightening around you. “I’m supposed to save you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

“You can’t save me this time.”

His forehead pressed to yours, his shoulders shaking as the reality crashed into him. You watched him wage war with himself. He wanted to scream, to fly you to every corner of the planet looking for a miracle, to rip the sky apart and demand a god fix this.

But he looked at you. At your pain. Your soft smile. Your love.

“I love you,” he whispered. And when you nodded, whispering it back, he made the most devastating choice of his life—for you.

MOHAWK MARK

The throne sat empty for three days.

No one dared speak his name.

Not even the strongest commanders, not the most fanatical advisors, dared disturb the silence that settled over the empire like a funeral shroud.

He had killed before—millions, easily. He had ended rebellions, wiped planets clean for less insult than a raised voice. He had ruled with blood and iron, his will absolute.

But this…

You were different.

He’d killed many in his lifetime. But this was the first time it cost him.

The blood on his hands was always red. But yours—yours—never washed off.

He stayed in your shared quarters. Your clothes were still folded. Your cup, still half-full. There were claw marks in the walls from the moment he screamed after it was done. A scream so loud, the mountain palace cracked at the base.

The bed was untouched.

He couldn’t bear to lie in it alone.

But he did sit beside it every night. The necklace you always wore was wrapped around his wrist like a chain.

He spoke to you sometimes.

“They think I’m weaker now.”

His voice was a low murmur. Not for show. Not for command. Just a man broken and trying to sound like he wasn’t.

“They’re wrong. I’m worse. Because now I know what it’s like to lose something sacred.”

The empire kept functioning.

Ships launched. Treaties enforced. Fear kept order. But the Emperor didn’t smile. Didn’t rage. Didn’t breathe fire.

He was quiet now. Efficient. Cold.

But every month, like clockwork, he flew alone to the edge of the galaxy. Where he scattered your ashes into the rings of a planet no one lived on. Where he could speak without eyes or ears, and just be yours again.

Where he could kneel.

And whisper, over and over, like a prayer carved into his soul: “Forgive me.” “Forgive me. “Forgive me.”

SINISTER MARK

“No.”

You were coughing blood, your limbs barely working, but you looked at him with the same soft eyes you always did. You reached up, touched his face.

“Please. It’s time. And I want it to be you.”

His eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched so tight it looked like he might break something.

“You think I’m just going to let you go?” he growled. “After everything?”

“I’m not asking to leave you,” you whispered. “I’m asking to let go of the pain.” He stared at you like you’d betrayed him. His voice was low. Dangerous.

“I would burn this world down to keep you breathing.” You shook your head gently. “But would you let me suffer just to keep me alive?”

That made him still. Utterly silent. His expression softened, just a fraction. And for the first time in his life, he looked powerless. “…You don’t get to ask me for this,” he murmured. “Because I’ll do it. And I’ll never be whole again.”

His hands trembled as he held you. He kissed you like it was the last piece of his soul. Then his voice, rough and raw: “Close your eyes, love. Let me take the pain now.”

VILTRUMITE MARK

“You will not ask me that again,” he growled, blood staining the ground beneath you both. Your wound was too deep, your organs too ruined.

You were dying, and he couldn’t stop it.

“Mark, please,” you rasped, barely able to hold your head up. “I’m not scared of dying. But I want it to be you. I want… your eyes to be the last thing I see.”

His hands clenched into fists. He’d survived galaxies, killed kings and conquerors. He broke civilizations. And now the one thing that mattered—truly mattered—was slipping away, and all he could do was kneel there, useless.

“You think I can live with that?” he hissed, but it cracked, sounded too human for the warrior he pretended to be. “You want me to carry that weight?”

“I want you to set me free.”

He sat still for a long moment. Breathing heavy. Eyes wild. Then, slowly, reverently, he held you close. His kiss was deep—full of pain, of goodbye, of love unspoken for too long.

“…I’ll carry it,” he whispered. And when he did it, it was quick, gentle. The most merciful death the galaxy’s deadliest weapon had ever delivered.

PRISONER MARK

You were lying in the cell with him—two prisoners, one broken by the world, one by their body.

The infection was eating you alive. A slow, painful thing. The med-tech had failed weeks ago. You were tired. You were done.

“Mark,” you croaked, head resting against his chest. “I need to go. But I don’t want it to be cold. I want you to be the last thing I feel. Please.”

He held you tighter.

“No,” he said immediately. “I won’t hurt you. Not again. Not ever again.”

“You wouldn’t be hurting me,” you whispered. “You’d be freeing me.”

He shook, trembling like a wounded animal. His eyes were wide and terrified. “I see blood every night. I see you dead in my dreams already. I can’t—I can’t make that real.”

“You’re not a monster.”

“I was. I still am.”

You cupped his cheek, coaxing his gaze to yours. “But I trust you with my life… and my death.”

He cried, silent and breathless, as he wrapped you in the softest hold you’d ever known. And when he finally gave in, it was a mercy so tender it broke him completely.

He whispered your name for hours afterward. Like if he said it enough, he could call your soul back.

OMNI MARK

You laid on the marble floor of his palace, the stars of ten conquered systems glittering outside the windows. You were fading fast, a cosmic illness unraveling your body cell by cell.

He knelt beside you, his hands coated in your blood.

“You’re asking me to kill you?” he asked, cold and calm, but his eyes were wild. “Me? After all I’ve done to protect you from death?”

“I trust you more than anyone,” you whispered. “Please. I don’t want to suffer.”

“You would rather die by my hands than linger one more hour?” he asked, not angry—but stunned. You had always been his soft spot, his love, the tether to what little humanity remained.

He exhaled sharply, the sound more like a growl.

“You would make a god kneel to death.”

He looked away.

“I’ve ended worlds that insulted you. I’ve slaughtered armies for you. And now… you want me to say goodbye?”

“Just hold me. Just… hold me, and make it fast.”

He gathered you up like you were made of glass, pressing his lips to your forehead, your brow, your lips—each kiss slower than the last.

When he did it, it was with the same hands that tore stars apart.

And for the first time in centuries… he wept.

[here-comes-the-moose]

One of my headcanons is that Echo can drink pretty much anyone under the table. The Bad Batch saw this for the first time they went out and were calling Rex like “should we bring him to the hospital???”

[screampied]

𝜗𝜚 B- BIRTHING HIPS ?!

☆ sum. no one expects the pretty sweet wife ( you ) to have such good birthing hips! not even him. gojo, toji, sukuna, nanami, choso, geto.

wc. 5.9k

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, established relationships, ex-husband! toji, semi-public (nanami), bręeding, riding him ‘till he breaks, cowgirl + reverse, cęrvix kissing, reader with the STAMINAAA, (1x) usage of "mistress", squīrting, ass worship, spīt, shotgunning (toji), size kinks.

SATORU ★ GOJO.

“h- hah, ooh sweets,” satoru would swallow thickly, every sticky digit on his fingerprints tightly gripping into the bare soft flesh of your fidgeting ass.

you swerved in seductive circles, maintaining direct eye contact while he’s stuffed inch after fat inch inside of you.

as hurried, shallow pants leave his glossed lips, satoru gives your ass a playful little spank, encouraging your tempo to accelerate with quicker hits against his lap.

“when you said you.. had a birthday present for me i-” and his voice sheepishly lowers, feeling an incoming moan travel its way up his parched throat at you suddenly surprising his face with a barrage of open-mouthed kisses. “i didn’t think y’meant your ah- hips..”

“you complaining, ‘toru?” you’d cheekily hum, combing a few fingers through his perfect hair. your ears instinctively perked at the cute, small sound of satoru’s mewl just from you running a few digits down his overly tender scalp.

your cunt was just sooo unfair-

it swallowed each inch, feeling your gripping walls wring him tight like a vice every single time..

you even spot sparkly tears glossing on his glittery lashes from the immense, raw pleasure.

“n- no! no, ‘m never complaining, promise,” he’d speak in a rush, melting right as your lips sneak a wet kiss against his mouth. a string of saliva cowardly runs away from both pairs of shimmery lips before you feel him shiver underneath you.

you were perfect- and satoru was the one who thought he had the most stamina. in reality, though, it was you. the two of you ended up losing track of time—and it’s probably been hours upon hours of you riding your husband into straight blissful oblivion.

you’re so up close that you had a clear view of him, drinking up his pretty, vocal moans as you attack his lips once again with a three-second kiss. “a- ah, i just—” he stammers, pawing sweaty palms at your ass.

you were just so ruthless- your rear, your hips, your fuckin’ knees… you just knew no bounds..

you rolled your waist in a way where it gave him a plethora of shivers. you moan, feeling the prints of his sticky fingertips dig into your skin as his tip thrashes its way around your cunt. “i.. i forgot- forgot- what i was gonna,” he’d whine, whitish brows curling into an arch. “my god-” he hiccups.

just as your hips dip inward, proudly taking in every fat inch inside of you deeply, he knew that this was it.

satoru was seeing white—not only seeing white, but he was shooting it too.

creamy gooey wads that drizzled inside of your cunt, filling you to the very brim with his lustrous knot. his cum pours inside of you oh-so sloppily and you gasp as your jittery legs forcibly cling onto his thighs like paste.

sharp pounds of skin were rough - barbarically slamming against each other at full speed even while he was still cumming.

with the sole help of your hips, you’d turn the strongest into the whiniest..

he’s whining once he continues to spray such thin ribbons inside of you, filling your cunt to capacity with seed as his right thigh grows limp.

satoru’s flushed- and his jaw was cutely dropped with his eyes bulging wide out of their sockets. it was as if your ass moved in slow motion—you were still riding him but the temp was much, much slower..

his long limbs slowly spread themselves apart as you straddled over him, staring intently into his eyes with an impish smile. satoru’s panting just as much as you. you peer at how his snowy-white hair’s all ruffled - nearly matted as he awkwardly runs a hand through.

“aw,” you’d press another kiss against his twitching mouth, feeling his naturally glossed lips tremor beneath yours. it was so, so much- and your cunt stored every velvety drop. satoru felt your ass greedily rounding itself back onto his leaking cock as you planted your palms on his chest.

his heart-

it’s racing, and he could barely even look you in the eye. satoru was embarrassed, but he didn’t want you to stop. not now - not ever.

you knew that for a fact because a small pout started to crease against his thin pink lips once, he felt your hips coming to a devastatingly slow. “why’s the pout, birthday boy? still not satisfied?”

“h.. how can i not be with those unfair hips,” satoru moans, taking pauses for each gulping breath as if was going to be his last.

strong, brawny arms wrap around your waist before he pulls you close, feeling a bubbly white ring coat its way around his thick base. satoru grunts at your hips coming to their final concluding stop, and he smacks a hand against your ass.

he looks down between the white mess that paints between thighs, moaning at the sight of your stuffed cunt before sighing deeply. “mhm- so perfect. h- happy fuckin’ birthday to me.”

as you writhe around his cock that’s still languidly emitting out such thick ropes from the gummed inside, you pepper his face with kisses. satoru moans at your touch as his hands reel your hips back into him.

“y’know, for the strongest, you really gotta work on your stamina,” you tease, watching that same pout gloss against his lips. satoru’s groaned silently as he pumped you full of chalky amounts that forevermore continued to ooze down the sides of your legs. you hovered over him, brushing a soft thumb over his cheek before leaning in to whisper against the shell of his ear. “how ‘bout we do every round for every year you turned, including today?”

“heh- sweets,” satoru tilts his head, doing the quick math in his head for about a millisecond before he pulls you into his beefy chest. a scarred hand guides a warm path down your arched back as he inhales your scent—huskily grunting into your neck before chuckling. “then we’d be goin’ for like.. thirty-four rounds.”

“exactly,” you coo, and satoru ogles as you remove his blindfold that lazily hung just above his eyes. bawling it into your first - you put it into his mouth and he lets off a muffled groan. satoru falls back against the satin-covered pillows of the bed with the flesh of your bare ass still in his hand before he blinks thrice.

oh.. you looked so pretty..

towering over him like this when it’s usually the other way around.

satoru leans into your touch once you tenderly cup his face, winding up your bucking hips by introducing that beloved teeth-shattering thrust that never failed to drive him crazy.

“ngh- lie back,” and satoru starts to moan continuously with his blindfold clogging his throat before you start to ferociously slam your hips onto his lap. “let’s s.. start from the beginning though, round one, birthday boy.”

TOJI ★ FUSHIGURO.

bleary-eyed and hazed, toji groans, staring at how perfectly your ass effortlessly tossed itself back against him..

in the background of the dimly lit room with a few exceptions of lit candles, some old western movie played in the ambience. he couldn’t keep his attention on the vintage film anyway, not when you were riding him so so good.

“fuckin’ shit, babygirl,” he’d lean back, hooking a beefy arm around your waist. as you lean in close, your soft right cheek tickles against his prickly growing stubble. a stubby rolled blunt sticks out between his teeth as grassy eyes his continued to droop from his erotic high.

your hips were insane - and every gruesome swerve of your ass gives him whiplash. “remember when you…hah- used ‘ta ride me like this on our honeymoon? heh, don’t tell me y’er still in love.”

“mmng- shut up, toji,” you’d moan, clawing a hand at his dingy white tank. toji feels your eyes lingering on him and you can visibly see that haughty smirk wickedly trying to carve its way against his crooked lips.

oh, how you loathed him.

you told yourself it was supposed to be the last time, but the last time always turns into one more, then two more, then three..

but that of course never happened.

the abnormally thick tension between you both forever grew. as you leaned against his hairy chest that was protected with the thin fabric of his tank top, you took the blunt from his lips before faintly inhaling the pungent smell.

“just shut up,” you’d whisper against the shell of his ear. toji grunts once the ruddy crown of his cock sloppily rams its way deeper further. your hands meet his chest and toji drops back, staring at you with a raised brow as you pin his beefy arms over his head. your hips continued to be robust, creating such vigorous thrusts that it made him clench his teeth in longing desire. “n’ let me ride you.”

“y…yes, ma’am,” toji breathes, his voice shifting more raspy from each direct hit of your deliciously springy hips. your cunt was just so precise, and his swollen tip repeatedly mashed its way thoroughly into your pulsating g-spot. it uses that pretty spot—imagining it’s a target and he hits it perfectly, bullseye every time.

the lightning-shaped veins ran through his bare arms as you held them over his head, dragging your bouncy ass back ‘n forth until he groans.

it was just something about your body that hypnotized him. your hips practically rolled into toji, moaning against his lips until hot smoke poured between the pried open cracks of his lips.

it lands against your tongue—and it’s flavorless, but you playfully lick the corner of his lip, feeling him shiver underneath you. “goddd- those fuckin’ hips. work ‘em, girl, fuuuck . . me.”

the way your pussy was just so sloppy too. the mere definition of wet. your slick clings against toji’s hefty sack like there was no tomorrow.

you had a watery grip that always made toji loll his eyes in lewd elation. the bed was almost louder than the combined moans of you both, and it even seemed like its constant groans and yelps were trying to compete.

“not so cocky now when you’re close, hm?” you’d airily whisper, feeling toji’s arm trying to flop itself back down. you grab his wrist, hearing the cute stubborn smack of his lips at your abrupt hold. “ahhh- touch, but no looking, baby.”

“bratty girl,” toji cocks his head, the lump in his throat nearly having him gasp for air. your hips were simply not fair - and pretty soon, he was coming close. your cunt’s wetly swallowing the entirety of his stout cock, twirling around his lap before viciously slamming down on his cock repeatedly.

your sweet, harmonic-like moans were pitchy and loud, but between your legs—you were far far louder. you swerved in erratic arcs, and each squelch that left from your pussy sounded wetter every time. you watched how toji’s defined abs bleed through his tank. “fine then. make me fuckin’ cum - c’mooon,” and he sharply brings a hand toward your ass. “make y’er lovin’ doting husband proud, yea?”

“and you call me the brat,” you’d grumble, leaning back in to swap the rest of the puffed smoke that lingered in his mouth. toji snickers, feeling your ass than its way in each ‘n every direction. your rhythm was just… perfect!

you’re moving in circles, you’re moving forward, hell, you even toss your ass backward just to watch his leafy eyes roll to the backs of their sockets. your cunt’s just profusely dripping wet, and he could feel you soaking from the inside at each sloppy bounce of your berserk hips.

toji’s trying to keep up his cocky façade, but with your unpredictable movements—he was screwed. “heh- atta girl, that’s my girl. ‘m all yours ‘n y’know know it,” he grunts, bruising your cervix repeatedly with smooch after smooch with the help of his plump tip. toji’s got your hips firmly by the palms, bouncing you harder on his hardened cock to make you babble out his name like it was its own sort of chant.

‘toji toji toji!’ was all you could whine out with your head empty and dumbed down from putting your hips to work.

“mhm- even if divorced, this pretty pussy always knows who it belongs t— fuck!”

mid-sentence, toji ends up cumming at that beautiful sharp smack of your ass that makes him nearly choke on a hoarse grunt. his grip against the fat of your ass loosens and his cock’s growing weak and soft, trying to retreat itself out of your pussy. it’s thin, slimy ropes that end up tangling with your treacly juices create a lewd cobweb that glues against both fleshy mounds. “mhm, soo fuckin’ good, toji,” you’d moan, slowing the rocking of your unsteady hips as he finally succumbs to his high.

the movie still quietly plays in the background, and you lean in—snatching the blunt out of his lips before kissing him. the taste of earthy, spiced smoke lands on your tongue once he returns the sloppy gesture, groaning into your mouth as he’s dumping load after hot load into you. “mmph-,” toji shivers, feeling your arms run down his beefy biceps, feeling all over his ripped body.

you couldn’t lie- you kind of missed him. kind of..

your hips still buckled and the friction makes him hiss against your teeth. “goddamn, i can’t.. feel my legs, baby girl,” he grumbles, tilting his head back slightly once your hips dip forward. “can’t stop . . cummin’ fuck-”

“seems like we gotta work on that stamina, old man,” you’d sneer, wriggling your ass once the last final spurts of cum fill inside of you. toji’s eyes then suddenly narrow at you, and you grin before he sits up. “what?”

“old man?” he repeats.

“yeah, old m-”

and it’s almost comical how you were literally straddling his lap—and now, you’re laid flat on your back with your knees rudely shoved up to the top of your chest. there’s a carnal look in toji’s eyes, and you gulp once you glance down at his feverishly hot cockhead that’s weeping with pearly droplets of dried cum.

“yeah, okay,” he grouses, earning a sweet moan from you once his tip harshly smacks against your tender opening.

toji spits on his palm before spanking your pussy, feeling you writhe in anticipation before he pulls your legs further back. his body hovers over you before he sticks his slick-covered fingers in his mouth for just a second to get a taste—aligning his fat tip before snickering at how eager you were to open up for him again already.

“let’s see just how quickly this ‘old man’ can break his pretty wife’s pussy then, hmm? just like old times, baby.”

NANAMI ★ KENTO.

if it was anything nanami kento despised more than constantly working day ‘n night at the office on constant repeat, drowning in piles of paperwork and getting his ear talked off by calls was leaving his pretty horny wife unsatisfied.

“sweetheart-” nanami timidly groans, slouching back against his rickety office chair. you were just nasty with your hips, slapping your ass against his cock that’s repeatedly reaching deep deep deep angles with little to zero effort.

it makes nanami pull on his checkered tie that’s a tad bit loose, tapping his heel against the wooden-cold floor. “ ‘m still…on the job,” and his voice pitches huskier from each languid stroke. your gaping cunt was hungrily sucking him in, flawlessly bruising your cervix with a multitude of french kisses. “but actually, this is . . better than staring at a computer screen all day.”

“yeaah?” you whisper, sneaking your spit-glossed lips near his chin. your body was straight-up sensual. nanami couldn’t keep up with the constant bouncy reel of your hips and the way you grind so lovingly against him.

the buckles of nanami’s belt clang as you rut against his lap, rubbing against the slim fabric of his pulled-down slacks.

as the office chair turned and swiveled, so did your hips. every few seconds, nanami would peek through blurred peripherals and hope no one would walk by his secluded cubicle.

“so paranoid, baby. hey, look at me, hey-” and as your hands crawl their way toward nanami’s chiseled cheeks, fawn eyes lock against yours within an instant. he’s sweating bullets, and you moan at the feeling of his cold watch band ghosting down your skin. “mhm, good. eyes up here, all on me. eyes on your poor wife who hasn’t been touched alllll day.”

“hah- more like.. you touch yourself by video calling me while showin’ off the toys i buy you,” nanami sighs, preventing himself from eye-rolling at the cunning grin that’s trying to compress against your lips. he was right though, whenever nanami was at work and you were at home—you’d call him, sometimes video call.

sliding your hands down your body… touching yourself while wearing his work clothes… purposely making a bit of a mess on his side of the bed too.

“can’t help it when my husband looks like you,” you whisper, leaning further forward so that your tummy’s pressed up against his tailored button-up. his cologne was always loud, he was wearing one of your favorites too.

it always smelled like a mixture of dirty cinnamon and rich, seductive chocolate. nanami quietly grunts, low eyes peering at his bright computer screen that had dozens of tabs open.

so overworked..

but he couldn’t lie—your hips always knew how to relieve his stress, make him forget all about his important tasks and documents he had to go over. your cunt’s just so greedy though.

every pump of his cock hastily drives through you at high speed, hips steadily forming such rough collisions with each crashing thrust. with the way you were riding him, he started to have thoughts of getting you pregnant. “f- fuuck.” he’d groan, sexily tilting his head to the left once your lips made their way onto his skin. you’re soft- creating a trail of invisible kisses as you rode him so good that he didn’t even notice his phone was suddenly ringing.

brrrriiiiiiinnng!

it’s the office phone—and it’s the same, high-pitched ringtone like always that was merely akin to nails on a chalkboard. “mmh- important phone call, ‘ken. must be important,” you’d teasingly moan, bringing your rocky hips to a brief pause. nanami groans in annoyance at the interruption, stretching his split knuckles one by one. with a lively hum, you playfully pout. “ ‘s okay, i can always…wait-”

“no- no,” nanami grumbles, soft brown eyes nearly rolling back due to the thick gaping stretch of his cock mending your insides with such ease. he pulls you into him, giving your ass a needy squeeze. lowly whispering into your ear, nanami sighs before answering the phone. “be a . . good girl ‘n keep those hips movin’ sweetheart. i’ll be quick.”

“yes, sir.” you’d play along, feeling his dick twitch between your saturated folds—and oh, you knew that made him hard. secretly, you knew nanami always did have a sir kink.

your ass slammed into nanami’s lap violently, and he’s feeling himself grow weaker and weaker the more your weight presses on top of him. “nanami, speaking,” he’d gruffly answer, trying to conceal his pantingly deep breaths.

you couldn’t really hear much except gibberish, but you started to get louder the more his mushroomy tip vertically drags its way down your sopping cunt. ‘mmph!’ after ‘mmph!’ would come out of you—and you were so vocal that he had to put a palm over your mouth.

nanami deadpans, clearly knowing what you were up to. “uh.. uh huh, i see,” he continues, groaning once his cock slides its way near your clit, tapping near your slick entrance before sloppily ‘popping!’ itself back out.

you bring a hand toward his veiny cock, slipping it back in before you then realize—you’re drooling all over his palm. “nasty.. girl,” he whispers under his breath, forgetting that he had someone on the other line.

the colleague on the other line said something along the lines of ‘what the…’ and nanami quickly backtracked. “ahem- i mean, yes. that sounds good. i should be free… monday.”

with the conversation coming to a close after a few overly prolonged seconds, nanami ends up cumming mid-conversation. the phone ends up dropping against his desk, and nanami groans, wrapping his arms around you while spewing out hot masses of cum.

“fuck- fuck sweetheart, oh, m- my,” he’d stammer, blond brows twisting together at the feelings of elation. it’s fiery hot - seeping deeply into your core so much that it even dribbles down your thigh. your cunt’s all puffy — prettily glistening with remnants of bubbly cum tearing from your folds before you kiss him. nanami moans against your wet, quivering lips as clashing teeth battle with each other.

as your grinding hips earn out a soft moan from him, he swallows your whines, tucking you underneath a sleeved arm before spanking your ass. “god, m- might have to propose to you again. ‘m still cummin’.”

and as you’re still straddling him with both sweaty bodies smushed against each other, your ear twitches at the quiet mumbling sounds of the phone that were never hung up.

“mr. nanami, what… on earth… did i just listen to.”

SUKUNA ★ RYŌMEN.

sukuna gravelly groans, huffing out low ‘fuck’ ‘s and ‘ugh’ ‘s after each spongy bounce of your ass.

the wholly cruel stretch of his cock buries itself deep within you making him click his tongue. sukuna was always a perfect fit — sometimes it took a bit of stretching, but he always knew he was around and inside. his cock knew each and every route, studying every slippery orifice and corner of your gummy, squeezing walls.

sinister, red eyes trail down your bouncing frame before he snickers at the cute taunting thrusts of your hips. “some . . nerve, woman,” he huffs, his lungs failing to keep up with your barbaric stamina. a sleazy grin tries to tug against both corners of his lips as he firmly grips your ass, spanking you again to encourage you to go faster. “ngh, ridin’ me while wearin’ my kimono? must hah- have some kinda death wish.”

the fabric wears your entire body loosely, and sukuna can’t help but gawk as you jerk your hips at such a sloppy tempo.

your pussy’s overwhelmed with all the fat inches of sukuna’s cock that mercilessly bullies its way into you. like always - he knew the exact layout of your pussy, and you moan once he presses a hand on your tummy.

“actuallyyy, they look better on me,” you quietly mumble, licking a stripe up his neck. sukuna inhales a sharp breath, scarlet eyes knocking further to the very back of his tilted skull. he was always a fool for your touch. “don’t you agree?”

“such a smart mouth,” sukuna grabs your entire chin, steadying your hips with another. out of the many enemies he’s faced—your hips were the far brutalist he’s ever been up against.

you didn’t know when to quit.

you moan at the soft pricks of his honed claws nipping at your skin, hearing the loud, pitchy sounds of both sharp rutting hips clashing in sync.

sukuna can’t help but stare—stare at you, at your body, and especially at the way you continuously threw your ass in circles, circles galore.

“think my wife’s gettin’ a ‘lil too spoiled,” he growly murmurs, tracing the claw of his thumb over your lip. your cunt’s never felt so full - his tip was just as mean as he was. it drags its way through a lewd pattern, caressing through every part of your gummy walls before seeing your eyes bulge to the size of saucers. “aw, look at that face. ‘s too big for you again, like always, hm?”

“s- shut up, ‘kuna.” you moan, pushing him back against the wobbly throne that sounded like it was about to snap into two within seconds. with a stubborn ‘hmmph!’ he lands on his back, eyeing you with a quirked pink brow.

with your knees bent to a certain degree, you started to guide your hipsby rocking it back against his lap. you knew how to swerve and grind. making the curse groan continuously from each slap of your hips, he spanks your ass while scoffing angrily under his breath.

sukuna didn’t have a weakness - besides you.

you had a type of arch that was killer.

all sukuna did was lie back while he watched you work. your ass bounced and bounced as skin against skin relentlessly ricochets onto each other. he didn’t even realize how his jaw was tightening. your grip was enticing—your cunt was slick as ever, drowning the entire shaft of his thick cock with your dripping sap. “g- goddamn, woman,” sukuna groans, his voice softening a bit.

who knew something as such as hips was enough to put the sukuna ryomen in check?

the penetration ended up turning sloppy within each ‘n every round that progressed, and sukuna’s tip was practically making love with your sensitive g-spot.

the stimulation had you moaning into his neck before you gasped, feeling him grab your hips. sukuna glances at you, feeling your sturdy hips nearly slowing down before he tauntingly tsks his tongue at you. “hah- don’t slow down now. you wanted ‘ta fuck me, so fuck me with those pathetic- hah, hips, girl.”

he’s just so big - you couldn’t help but whine out repeated inaudible whimpers. his custom made kimono loosely flows over your body as you continue to move with the constant creaks of his throne groaning from each bounce of weight. “f- fuck, ‘kuna,” a gargled moan bubbles out of your throat as you press a sloppy kiss against his lips.

sukuna’s jaw easily goes slack, and the rough slams of your ass left him spacing out in no time. your cunt’s so powerful that he gets transformed into another dimension for a split second. milliseconds pass and the demon sees nothing but pure white, and that’s when he cums.

sukuna lets out a gruff battle-crying groan once he releases—pouring such a gluey batch of cum into your cunt. it’s hot - messily oozing its way into you, a few spurts dribbling down his fat base that’s a blushing pink. a gravelly grunt leaves from sukuna as he grips your ass, making your hips circle their way slower against his pelvis.

“ugh- the audacity of this w- worthless pussy,” he stutters, shakily chewing on every word from the elated pleasure that comes from his finish. sukuna’s crimson eyes roll, and he bares his fangs deep into your neck as his creamy knot deepens inside of you. “fuck.”

“oh, don’t tell me you’re gettin’ tired already, m’lord,” you’d tease, saying that title, knowing how he’d always get hard whenever you addressed him in formal manners. sukuna’s faintly trembling underneath you, and he hisses at the sticky sight of his own cum that starts to paste against the undersides of your nearly numb thighs. eagerly, you buck your hips into him again, watching his eyes carnally widen. “one more round, ‘kuna—yeah?”

with a quirked pink brow and lowly hooded eyes, he’s panting heavily. sukuna’s cock twitched inside of you, practically creating a bulge just from how ridiculously thick he was before he sighs.

“y- yeah, one more.”

“one more what?”

sukuna shoots you a glare but it soon falters once your ruthless rocking starts up again.

you’re rough, burying your knees into his thighs as your ass smacks against his cock - making him groan out a needy whine.

“fuck- one more round.. mistress.”

CHOSO ★ KAMO.

every time you rode choso, he can’t help but fall in love with you - again.

it was just something about your hips. something about the way you moved, the way you stared deeply into his eyes, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. your voice alone was enough to make him finish, pumping you full of viscid wads that swam their way right into your warm, welcoming womb.

“s- so fuckin’ hot,” he’d whine out, studying each hop of your hips with bleary half-open eyes. if you squinted just enough, you’d spot how his pupils were gradually turning heart-shaped. you sensuously rolled your hips in a way where choso was at a loss for words.

“mmh- baby,” he’d groan, feeling your thighs lift before slamming straight back down. your cunt sloppily clamped down on his cock tightly, wringing choso dry and milking him for all that he was worth. “don’t- don’t stop, please- don’t stop, fuuuuck.”

flimsily, you threw your arms around over his shoulders that were so tense-slacked.

as you’re right next to his face, choso’s frantically panting—puffs of air leaving from his parted lips with greasy black strands sticking to his forehead. choso’s just glossed with sweat, and his hands start to slowly creep their way to the bottoms of your plush thighs. “touch me more, ‘cho,” you’d moan, grinding yourself against him in circular motions.

choso’s cock was hard - so so hard. you felt it, and it’s as if time stood still when it happened.

the blushing crown of his shaft securely squeezes its way through your pinching walls, introducing itself to your convulsing g-spot.

“chosooo, chos—oh!” you’d shriek, your thighs immediately collapsing against his. the stimulation of his crowned head smearing around the spongy texture makes you short-circuit for a moment.

you probably looked cartoonish. nothing but white painted the insides of your rolled eyes with your jaw goofily dangling open, furrowing brows curling up in such bawdy pleasure..

“a.. are you okay? does it hurt?” choso stammers, awkwardly cupping your face with big, roughly textured palms. your cheek falls into his hand as you smile, bringing a kiss toward the tip of his nose while leaning into his gentle touch.

“baby, ‘m fine,” you reassure him, watching choso’s shoulders sag. choso’s hands snag at your ass as his head falls back. the adam’s apple that bobs in his throat never stops bobbing, and he throatily groans once he starts to feel your wobbly hips pick up again.

“o..ooh! keep hittin’ there- yeah, right there,” and choso sucks his teeth as he not only hears but feels your pussy slickly slide on his cock. ravened eyes of his eventually flicker down at your neglected, bouncing chest and choso cutely sighs.

humming, you hold his chin while rubbing the pad of your thumb over his sheeny pouted lips. “go ahead, choso. feel ‘em.”

he’s touched you probably dozens of times. the two of you were married, and yet he was always hesitant, waiting for your approval. right when you gave it though, choso couldn’t contain himself anymore.

you gasped once choso quickly sank his face in between your chest, cupping his mouth around one of your bare nipples. “mmp-” he’d let off a muffled moan against your skin, the muscles in his face relaxing as he felt you patting his head.

you were still riding him, strenuously smacking your hips on top of him - each squelch from your cunt never failing to pitch higher and higher.

the arch of your back stretches further, and you feel his hand swat against your ass. choso’s tongue sloppily swirls around your tender nub before it turns into wet suckles. “f- fuck, jus’ like that, choso,” you’d whine, hearing each loud ‘pop!’ sound away from his lips once your tit occasionally slides out his mouth.

choso’s weakly rutting into you too, but one of his arms wraps around your hips - pulling you closer. you’re rocking back and forth, hearing him moan against your skin before he starts nipping. “ ‘m gonna c.. cum,” his eyes widen, digging slender fingertips into the right cheek of your ass.

and his voice shook at each pounce of your hips. you’re riding him until he breaks - literally.

the split of choso’s tip rummages its way through your tight, clenching walls, steadily jackhammering its head toward the hood of your clit. your thighs nearly snap together shut at the long-awaited pressure, and you wrap your arms around his slim torso.

“fuck, oh f- fuck ‘m gonna cum too, choso,” you’d whimper in his ear, feeling his body underneath you cutely shudder. your hips were just delicious.

he’s nearly forgetting to breathe with how damn good you rode him - with how you rotated your ass, rocking your waist, barreling all of his inches. choso’s heart thumped straight out of his chest, and one glance of you was all it took for him to realize he was falling in love with you again.

“ugh- fuck me, baby—use me, oh f- fuck,” he’d start rambling, the sweaty prints of his thumbs swirling circles around the occasional dents in your back. he found it so attractive how each time you moved or rocked against him, your muscles would cutely tense at the excessively wide stretch of his cock. “need you. i…hah- need…you,” he’d murmur between pauses of sharp breaths, and choso’s entire body slumps back within seconds.

one final thrust and he’s cumming - hard.

you end up finishing too — gushing straight out, poor trembly thighs collapsing right over his meaty thighs that were the mere definition of ‘numb’.

you’re whimpering as he’s filling you up with satiny ropes that tangle with your syrupy slick that soaks the head of his cock. “fuck, ‘cho, that’s it. r- relax,” you’d swerve your hips around, watching choso’s abs clench underneath you. you’re riding him so good that he thought he was gonna get pregnant.

you’re drenched - bringing two fingers toward your cunt, coolly spreading your pretty entrance apart. your clit’s pulsing, and you’re moaning once you see small masses of cum spilling down your clit. “you’re always so messy.”

“hah- for… you,” choso sighs, a sleazy grin forming across his lips. his hand still remains glued to your ass and he grunts, sneaking a hand between the crack of your thighs. “mmh- i think.. i want you to do that again, baby.”

“what?” you bring a chaste kiss toward his lips, swallowing the incoming whine that leaves from choso’s lips. he’s never tasted sweeter - and you could feel his body quiver at the feeling of your hands sliding down his chest.

choso moans against your lips, pressing his forehead against yours. “s.. squirt,” he purrs hoarsely, and you gasp once he lifts you, making you lie back this time. darkened eyes fall toward between your sprawled-out legs and he nearly drools — taking in the pure sight of his cum wetly streaming down your pearled nub. choso whines against your cunt, taking one long lap of his tongue, relishing at the messy taste of both mixtures of arousal - yours and his.

with a pout, choso starts to clean you up, smearing the bridge of his nose against your twitching cunt before meeting your gaze. “squirt again, pretty girl. i.. i wanna taste it this time,” and he gives your swollen heat a wet kiss.

“pretty please?”

SUGURU ★ GETO.

geto could practically feel his mouth watering once he saw that sweet, perfect arch of yours.

he’s used to seeing you in front, up close ‘n personal but no.. you wanted to try riding him in reverse. not only that, but you decided to ride him in reverse while he was still very much sensitive.

“ooh, p- princess,” he’d grunt hoarsely, tasting the treacly sweet stream of saliva pooling into his mouth. the buds that live on his tongue ached at the hot, comforting squeeze of your cunt. geto’s still getting over his recent orgasm—globs of cum still sticking against his cock and glossing wetly between your quivering legs. “ugh- you’re killin’ me here with that pretty fuckin’ arch of yours, y’know that?”

“mhm, good,” you’d reply in a hurried tone, feeling his lust-like gaze lock against your ass. you weren’t even going fast and yet, your hips already had him on a leash.

geto couldn’t stop staring - nor could he keep his strong, callused hands to himself.

you moaned, planting your hands against the crumpled-up sheets before gasping. geto makes you arch more, getting a pretty fogged-eyed view of the way your backside curves over his lap right before his eyes. “hah- suguru, don’t stop touchin’ me.”

“didn’t . . plan on it, pretty,” he rasps, trailing his eyes down at the rocking curvature of your waist. you’re fuckin’ moving, and with your hands gripping onto his knees—you threw your ass back against him time and time again. geto groans, feeling his reddened tip that was still leaking swab its way around your clit like a q-tip. your ass had a grip that made him nearly choke on the treacly saliva that sticks near the back of his tongue. “god- so perfect, look at you, girl. so hah- damn gorgeous when you’re on top, fuck.”

“mhm,” you’d bite back a moan, the sensual rolling of your hips turning more intimate by the second. his dick coarsely stretches through your slavering insides, sloppily pumping you full with each ‘pop!’ squelching out from between your thighs. geto keeps his gaze locked on your ass the entire time, and that’s when you start to bend your knees.

you arch lower, zealously wriggling your ass before bouncing on his cock and that’s when you hear him starting to whine. “fuck- so big,” you’d gasp, taking control of the tempo by steadily veering your hips like a boat. “hold my hips, sugu. hold ‘em while i fuck you.”

geto lets off a guttural groan, swatting a clammy palm against your backside before both hands attach near your rotating waist that’s raining with sweat from all angles. you’re merely glowing and it’s just so pretty.

“tch- you’re gettin’ cocky, princess,” he’d mumble, his voice turning shakier as your ass frantically ruts into him at full force. his sweltering hot tip’s on the verge of splitting you open and you moan each time you feel its overly vast curve delve straight inside your pussy, nastily dragging its way down your sopping valley. tossing his head back, geto’s abs instinctively clench through his shirt before he whines again. “ ‘m only lettin’ you take charge ‘cause i—”

and geto pauses abruptly, violently clenching his teeth at the slick pasty feeling of your pussy trapping the entirety of his thick length. breath snatches out of his chest before he groans loudly, spanking your ass with the corners of his lips twitching into a pout.

“o- oh fuck, ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum again,” and the words whine out from his lips oh-so prettily, grunting each time you slam your ass back down against his cock. his bulbous tip deepens its angle inside of you, rolling his eyes from the sudden pressure arising.

he’s never felt hotter — and geto nearly blacks out completely once you start to purposely slow down, sneaking a hand back to smack your ass right in front of his face while craning your neck. “yeah, give it t’me then, baby. don’t miss a fuckin’ drop.”

“such a s.. slut,” geto groans, nearly getting hypnotized by how good you’re dragging your hips in figure eights. they gradually shift into circles—and he’s buried deep deep deep, pounding into your cunt rawly until he ends up shooting blanks again. you end up finishing too, and it feels like a deep sigh you are finally letting go. shockwaves and electricity pierce through every nerve and vein through your body, and your mouth drops open—feeling your teeth chatter once your hips back their way up against him in reverse.

geto’s body underneath you immediately shudders and oh- he’s whimpering, feeling the weight of your rickety hips steady.

as his mouth grows dryly arid, geto lets off a weary ‘phew’ as the core muscles in his abs tighten.

viciously thin ropes of cum shoot into you. globs of it seep deep inside of you, watching as your cunt sloppily spits remnants of it on its tip—coating the shriveled-up base of his cock that’s been perfectly milked. “b.. baby,” he hoarsely groans, hands still stuck to each side of your hips.

it was such a pretty sight — your cunt remained stuffed full with buttery ribbons of cum that ran down your thighs before he spanks your ass.

“jus’ . . gimme a minute. think your pussy really hah- broke me,” and geto gives the right of your ass cheek its final needy squeeze before sighing in defeat. “f- fuuuuck, girl.”

[tonycries]

DDD

Synopsis. What’s destroyed on Destroy D!ck December? Him.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, MARATHONS, heavy overstím, creampíes, BRÉEDING, cúmplay, pússydrunk men, ínnapropríate use of jujutsu, powers going haywire, matíng press, making them cry, bondagé (Nanami), GOJO’S POWERS, mánhandling, true form Sukuna, dp, Sukuna’s mouths, p talking, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 6.1k

A/N. Hope you all have a lovely December <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 23rd Dec. 5:46AM

It’s around this time that Toji Fushiguro loses count - loses his damn mind. 

Gasping- heaving back every tiny whimper when his ruby red tip plants sopping wet smacks right down your tender folds. Gushing out generous helpings of pearly white that slip and slide all the way down.

And it hasn’t been once. Oh, it hasn’t even been twice. 

Dozens upon dozens of times - for hours now - Toji was collapsing his big, beefy limbs down into yours in the messiest mating press. With a dragged-out groan, he’s smearing his thumb down the edges of your treacling slit, popping it into his mouth eagerly. 

“Heh- jus’ look at her all overflowin’ f’me.” Toji’s rasping - voice so shot he could barely even breathe. And you wonder if he even realizes he’s babbling this way. “S’that oh- s’that twenty-three, yet?” 

It better not be.

Toji refuses to let it be. 

“C-can feel it coming again-” he’s choking out a ragged whine. How embarrassing. Thick fingers curling around your throat to squeeze, “-can hah- can I- inside again…please, doll.”

It’s as if on some slutty autopilot that you let his massive, calloused palms glide down your thighs and push. The way his bulging biceps flex with strain makes your mouth water - all bulging and covered in a thin sheen of sweat that smears against yours. 

He was out of control. Out of his sanity.

And just one peak down at the creamy ring your cunt was coating around his hefty hilt was enough for Toji to throw his head back with a moan of your name.

Destroyed. 

With a fatigued shiver, he’s spearheading his fat head into you until you see white, dragging a drippingly wet swipe of steaming hot precum all over your cushiony sweet spots.. 

Whispering, “Shit- what ya do to me- s-squeeze me- squeeze me with that pretty pussy jus’ once.” Racking out a bout of violent shivers down the entirety of his hulking body when your sloppy walls give his girth a tight little clench. 

And that’s all it takes for Toji to cum.

All it takes for his sensitive cock to bawl out in stringy wads of seed that splatter right into the bottom of your pussy, pumping you full. Toji falls tiredly onto his elbows with a sudden hiss at the stinging thwack! of his twitchy balls sticking to your skin. 

“O-oh yeah- that’s twenty-two- milk me- milk me, doll.” And it feels so good that it’s almost painful, stars bursting over and over behind his teary lids when his own seed sloshes a white gloss down every delicate ridge and vein of his. “Heheh- takin’ m-me so well-  jus’ one more right? We’re almost there-”

But he’s already lost count.

And Toji doesn’t care - he doesn’t even give a shit.

The way your puffy pussy lips were sucking up his cock was like a sheer miracle after the long, treacherous task of November. Tch- who even came up with such a thing as no nutting? Though, he couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t like the idea of December…

Yeah, he was going to fill his girl’s needy lil’ pussy with his cum again and again until he reaches his mark of twenty-three even if it kills him. And he could die a happy death right between these jittery legs of yours. 

You whine, grappling towards the thudding headboard that was now indenting your poor wall. You didn’t know how the hell he was still going. “B-but are you sure you can, baby? Don’t know if it’ll f-fit-”

“Oh- don’t speak so f-filthy ta me with that sweet mouth, ma.” 

“But Toji—”

Toji juts his scarred lips out in what you swear was almost a pout. He’s squeezing your delicate neck warningly, other hand pushing down on your tummy to make your sloppy entrance gush out in milky white dredges. Strangling out, “See? A-all you hafta ta do is shut up and take my fuckin’ cock- take my cum.” And he’s so lazy, all dripping with sweat and sheer sex when Toji slides his cheek down your own like an animal. “My pretty girl can ngh- d-do that f’me, right?”

It was so rare that you get to see the great Toji Fushiguro like this. 

So drunk on the power and the way he was kissing up French peck after peck against your g-spot that it makes you smile. “O-only if you hngh- beg.”

“Doll…”

“Beg.”

Truly, you imagined that Toji would roll his greedy green eyes- shit, were those tears in them? at you and simply snicker. 

What you didn’t expect was for him to grunt, before dragging you with the vice-like grip on your neck to meet his smacking sharp hips. Down, down, down- 

“Tch.” he’s grumbling, condensed breath feverish on your face. Sharp jaw clenching almost painfully - but not as painfully as the way his thick cock was swollen so rock-hard. Needy. Desperate. “M’begging you, ma- please l-let me cum- inside this cute cunt.”

You can only nod - nod and nod when his weepy tip plants pound after pound on your thoroughly bruised cervix. 

“Atta girl.”

And with a slight swat! from the rounded edges of his fat digits down onto your pulsing clit - you don’t know who’s cumming first. 

So hot and blissful. It’s like you were floating in heaven when Toji wrangles your body down flat onto the sheets and cums. Cumming and cumming yet- his utterly dazed eyes snap open, nothing was coming out.

“Shit-” Toji guides his free hand to wrap around his fat reddened base. Pumping up and down up and down up and- he half blacks out. “Fuck…c-completely ruined me, ma.” And the only thing that Toji can let loose is a few thick beads of his seed that dot your precious sweet spots. 

But he wasn’t having that.

In an instant, you’re being jostled with every ounce of strength in his large body. Straddling Toji’s slender hips, you’re collapsing to rub down his washboard abs. And he only grins, he only lolls his head drunkenly into the plush pillows. 

Overstimulated cock twitching ferally against your elastic walls as he still keeps cumming dry, he didn’t know if he could make it…“That- ngh- doesn’t count. So why dontcha ride me to t-twenty-three, doll?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 16th Dec. 7:30PM

“Don’t run.” Nanami keens brokenly at the back of his throat. More. He needs more. “Please d-don’t run don’t run, my love-” 

And if it wasn’t for that velvety yellow tie binding his strong arms behind his back, they would be wrapping around your arched body so tight until you were sure your husband never wanted to let go. It’s all that Nanami can do to jump his thighs up higher to glissade your pretty pussy down his girthy shaft.

You’re whining out a little, “C-can’t help it, Kento- you’re jus’ filling me up so much-”

God, the ever-sensible Nanami Kento was so ruined by now. 

So utterly pussydrunk that even the mere sound of your honeyed tone complimenting him is enough to have him rutting his flushed cockhead to nudge deeper and deeper into your gooey walls. You were riding him so languidly, spreading open your insides on just the curve. 

More more more more-

“D-don’t say that—” he all but cries in a deep whine over the syrupy squelch after smooching squelch. Sweat-slicked face pushing into the tender crook of your neck, “-I m-might cum from jus’ that, darling. S’wasted- n-need to fuck a baby into ya, remember?”

With a drunkenly smug daze smeared across your face, you’re cushioning your hands all over his heaving chest. Muscled. Rugged. Peaking your trembly fingers across his bulging pecs, “That would be the ngh- sixteenth time, right, Ken? And in your office, too- so dirty~”

It was so fun to tease your dear Nanami.

To watch his drooping glasses fog up with heady condensation, to watch his high cheekbones blush into something innocently rosy. Stern mouth slack with awe when you glide the fat of your thumb across its corner to swipe away his translucent trail of overstimulated drool. 

Sensitive. Shit, so sensitive.

And you’re hearing miniscule rips! when he pulls against the tie - the only thing keeping Nanami from tattering it into a million pieces was your wish to tie your handsome husband up.

“B-but how could I not?” he hisses, genuinely floored. You feel yourself be bounced through the sheer strength in his toned core. Atoms stand on end with jujutsu - his technique. Your g-spot is battered. Up and down up and down up and- “Y-you’re just so perfect n’ pretty ngh- a-and oh I can’t stay away from this pretty cunt–”

Nanami’s head lolls pussydrunkenly with every squelching shove into your tight channel. He’s opening up every sweet nook and cranny inside you, mashing into that magical spot. 

“My pretty girl- gonna make such a pretty momma. Y-you just feel so oh-” Words are failing him. And with a shuddering gulp he dares look down at the way your cunt was drenching him in milky wave after wave of cum. Breeding you. Breathing out, “-this might jus’ be heaven.”

And heaven it was.

“Aw, you’re so ngh- sweet, Ken– s’this from how long ya had to wait in November?” He’s so pretty. Your fingers caress over the big, fat tears welling their way up in his half-lidded eyes. Planting a salty peck against his wobbly lips, “Love you–”

“I love you, too-” Nanami breathes - he whimpers. “Love you love you love you- ngh- m’never participating in that goddamn No Nut November again. S-sixteen’s not ‘nough- s’never gonna e-enough-”

And Nanami didn’t even know if he could make it to sixteen.

Because his hefty balls were jostling against your ass so harshly, every press of your ass down his tight, cum-filled sack making him spurt out a few wispy sputters of cum. Sloshing your cozy insides- But it didn’t count - no, it didn’t count unless he had you overspilling. 

“O-overspilling?” you giggle- shit, did he say that out loud? “Ken- are you ser-”

SLAM!

Desperation bleeds into his movement. Into his breaths. Into every single stroke of his sloppy cock when Nanami wrenches his hands free from the restraint in a split-second. 

A single split-second is all it takes for him to bully your pliant body down on his desk in one, fluid motion.

In control now.

Well, as in control as he could be when he was fucking losing it.

The desk rattles with every pound he’s gifting your poor, battered g-spot. Over and over- shit, it was so scarily accurate that it left you reeling about whether Nanami was using his ratio technique - did he even realize. 

Slam! 

Nanami’s arm shudders down onto the rustling papers that he definitely should’ve been working on instead. And you bolt at the sudden cinch of atoms - yeah, definitely his technique. “M’serious- ngh oh- I’ve never been more serious in m’life, my love-” Hunching over now, you could admire the way his back muscles popped and flexed with every rough jackhammer. 

“So pretty and-” Words choking into tiny moans at the back of his throat, “-and mine.”

As soon as Nanami’s thick digits pop into his mouth, you feel his overwhelmed cock strike up a few electric jolts before cumming. Hot shaft swelling and throbbing with his pumping pulse, fucking your snug cunt full of syrupy oozes of cum. Your poor sweet spots - over and over, powers out of control. 

And so was Nanami.

Eyeing the creamy globs spittling down the side of your slit, he’s smearing open your swollen pussy folds with a few thick fingers, making you flinch at the cool touch of his wedding ring.  Greedily scooping them up into his mouth to spit. Right onto your very tastebuds, before dragging you into a filthy, filthy mess of a kiss. 

“Ngh- gonna marry ya- have all round and glowing.” he’s panting against your open mouth. “Gonna- sh-shit gonna make you my wife-”

You’re letting off a few sweet moans every time he’s clashing wetly against your-spot. “I am your wife, Kento-”

Five words. 

Only five words does it take for Nanami to halt in his tracks. For him to strain out a crazed, “E-even better…”

♡ GETO SUGURU - 11th Dec. 2:28AM

“What was that?”

“Suguru-”

He’s shutting you up promptly with a swift smack! right onto the edge of your plump clit, fingers lingering to smear over those excess dredges of cum from just before. 

They have you weakening on all fours. 

They have you making such a fucking mess. 

And you hear Geto shudder in a shrill breath at the sight of your drooling cunt dripping all down his wrist, you hear him clear his rasping throat of a few traitorous whimpers. Oh, it takes everything in him to pretend he wasn’t as fucking ruined as he was. “Letting it drip a-all out of your slutty pussy, d-didn’t I tell ya to ngh- take all eleven, gorgeous?” 

It’s a trick question.. 

And Geto isn’t waiting for an answer, Geto can barely even hear you through the thundering of his own furious pulse in his ears. Ringing and making him so dizzy- 

With one hand kneading down on the arch of your back, his hips pummel into you thoroughly, shoving your squirming hips back down onto the silken sheets. Rotund, pinkish head feeding into all your sweetest spots without even trying.

“Mhmmm–” he’s letting his head loll back to swipe a few greedy digits over the creamy ring at his hilt - plugging them easily back into your overly stuffed pussy. Slender and swirling all around the outer edges of his fat cock. With the other he pretends to count, “-nine, ten eleven- sure did. S-so that ah- eleventh one didn’t count, riiiight?”

And you just about only have the strength to gasp, “D-doesn’t count?”

“Nuh uh, doesn’t count.”

Thwacking a stinging smack! right onto the jiggling flesh of your ass, Geto only pushes and pushes and reels out peak after peak of white-hot pleasure with every pound. Grinning when your slack-jawed lips gasp in lewd awe to mewl, “Th-then- ah! I w-want it all in this time. No teasing, Sugu–”

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit - he really underestimated how much a lil’ minx his girl was.

Because that makes Geto let out a heavy gasp, it makes his dewey deep eyes pop out almost dramatically. Sweeping one hand through his long, curtaining bangs to get a better scope of your jittery body. All splayed out and so prettily fucked underneath him.

Beautiful. So, so beautiful and- oh, he was more drunk on your pussy than he thought. 

“Oh, p-pretty girl–” His lips smear up your sweat-glistening spine in a trail of kisses. Up, up, up to press a saccharine sweet peck onto your cheek. “Heh, how could I not?”

And you swear Geto’s melodic voice cracked into something desperate at the end -almost as if it was…a whine.

But you don’t get to confirm, not before with a rippling thud! you’re feeling something heavy rest itself on your head. Whirling your bleary eyes as much as you could to take in what was Geto’s foot - so rudely positioned upon your body to shovel himself even deeper into your plushy cunt.

It felt too damn good.

And, fuck, Geto was angry at himself for the way he was letting big, overstimulated tears well up in his eyes with every pretty peck into your sopping wet cervix. Fucking you like an animal. With every wet swipe right at the bottom of your cunt- 

“S-Sugu-” you’re babbling out, heart stuttering at the feeling of something wet drizzling down heatedly onto your shoulder. “Are you cry-”

“No.”

Yes.

Because Geto was so sensitive. So stimulated. Every sodden crash into your tight pussy had stars bursting behind Geto’s eyes, throat ragged raw with a sudden keen. “M-m’not cryin’ s’just- fuuuck- yer a real troublemaker, aren’t ya?” 

It takes a few sloppy seconds before you realize with a jolt that Geto isn’t talking to you - no, he had his flaming eyes downturned to look at your bulging cunt. To salivate over the way your puffy folds were greedily drenching all his staggering inches. 

And he’s talking to her, nodding all to every honeyed squelch! that makes your ears burn.

“Right right–” Geto cups one of you jiggling tits with his massive palms. Kneading. Squeezing. “-sh-she is gorgeous-” Pressing a too-sweet smooch by your sweat-dampened forehead, “-my gorgeous girl…hehh- you knew what would oh- h-happen when you told me about this challenge, right?”

“Know what, Suguru?” you’re batting your lashes up at him in a way that makes him grit through a shudder. Evil, evil tricks you had. 

But whatever you could do - Geto Suguru could, too, ten times worse. 

Which is why he’s slamming into you so fast that you’re finding yourself almost thrown into the jittering headboard. Bolting fast. Hard. 

Curling a few fingers around your neck to bounce you back into his sharp hipbones, “Where do you think you’re r-running away? Don’t run away–”

You weren’t. 

But Geto sounded so genuinely upset, so genuinely in disbelief. His cheeks hollowing when he sucks in a sudden breath and rummages at your melty insides so good. Planting tiny pinches to your clit like it was going to make you forget the pearly, splattering tears into your shoulder. Yet, with the way that Geto was fucking you positively stupid then you think you just might. 

Geto’s curling his deft fingers inside to sneak across your sweetened spots, around and around before swiping the remnant dredges of cum across his pre-glossed lips. 

“K-kiss me, gorgeous.” He tastes like honey. Hot. Voice practically a roughened growl at this point. “G-gonna take it all, aren’t ya? Gonna fill this pretty p-pussy up with my cum- ngh- gonna have it s-so everyone knows what I did- ah- so they know-”

And no matter how composed Geto pretended to be - you could hear the tiny whimpers curling at the back of his throat, the grumbling ah! ah! ah! at every thrust. 

He’s babbling, drunken and you don’t even think he remembers a thing about the challenge anymore. “M’gonna get ya pregnant, doll…”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 8th Dec. 6:45PM

“B-baby-” Choso’s voice is so warm - so broken. Sobbing. He’s gifting your ankle with an innocent peck, “Baby let me s-see your pretty face- p-please look my way–”

“M’already here…” With a slightly syrupy giggle you press a gentle kiss against Choso’s sweat-streaked forehead. “Let it out- let it alll out, Cho-”

That forgotten movie plays over and over in the background when with a flinching shudder, Choso cums. Wrangling your limp body to him so tight that you’re feeling every tiny flex of his washboard abs, every sweaty glissade of his muscular thighs kneeing apart yours. 

“O-oh–” Choso hisses out the tiniest of whimpers against your skin with every splat! of cozy rivers of cum down your snug cunt. “M-move that pretty hand- move it for me-”

Gently shoving away the overwhelmed hand on your bulging cunt, he’s pulling out his achy cock from your entrance. Making such a mess on your poor couch. “Oh.”

And Choso doesn’t say anything more - not a word. 

He can’t.

Not even a peep while he’s fixating his widened eyes down on the way your inner thighs were drooling all over with waves of his own cum. So full. And he gulps. 

You’re running your fingers through his silky soft strands, “All done, baby?”

And Choso only jolts his entire muscular body on top of you as if the thought never even crossed his mind. Sheer panic bleeding into those pussy drunken eyes of his when they widen and bore down into yours, “A-actually that’s not- ngh- that’s-”

Shit, he couldn’t even explain himself right now. Because Choso didn’t have to say anything - he was already moving.

Head throwing back when his hips push back downwards in a wet little grind - experimental. Just the singular clench of your elastic walls around his length in a perfectly cozy hug makes him throw his head back with a whimper. So sensitive. “I’m sorry, baby I- I can’t stop.”

It didn’t matter what day it was today. It didn’t matter exactly how many times Choso had pumped your pretty pussy full of his voluminous cum. Because it was never enough. 

Never will be enough.

He was too addicted to the way his own warm cum was sloshing around your gooey insides, making such a filthy slurping gloss that practically speaks to him. Your pussy was extra talkative today, slurring out the most saturated squelches! whenever he’s diving his fat cockhead past your entrance. 

“Wh-what is it? The ngh- eight?” Meshing a wet kiss over and over that magical g-spot - just the way he was with your pouty mouth. Lips wobbling as he begs, “I-I can c-cum inside again, right, baby? P-please–? Look I’ll even make room-”

And before you can utter a word, your dear, sweet boyfriend was plunging out. Accompanied by a few sopping wet slurps of his seed that waterfall freely and drizzle down his furiously reddened length. 

Choso bites his lip at the heavenly sight, holding back a grin that curls down the sides of his rosy red mouth. Oh, this was so not just about “making room.”

Something that makes you hum, “Well then-” And as soon as you’re smearing your legs open even wider, Choso gapes. Urgently pressing a thumb over his weepy divot to keep himself from cumming all over again. “-wontcha be a hngh good boy f’me, then?”

Choso nods - nods over and over when he fucks back through your gummy hole. Nods with every drawling babble that leaves his mouth, “G-gonna be your good boy, baby- gonna cum inside- gonna let me, right? Promise I’ll m-make it to eight-”

Not to mind the fact that he already had. 

But he doesn’t care. Not a single ounce when your inflated walls were molding around him this way - like you were made for him.

“R-right here–” He’s trailing up the rounded curve of one thick index about halfway down your tummy, pressing down on the slight swollen nudge of where he could feel himself absolutely wrecking you. Wrecking himself. “-gonna be f-finishing the challenge riiiight here.”

“Yes yes yes-” you whine, hips bucking up to catch onto his sloppy cadence. It almost hurts just how hard he was fucking into you - dragging rawly all over your cunt, no sweetened spot left unbruised. “-cum inside- cum in me, Cho–”

“F-fuck-”

It’s a tiny whimper - broken. So utterly fucked-out when Choso crashes his lips onto your battered ones and sucks. 

And you think Choso is cumming - you feel Choso cumming. His hulking boy hunches, his strong arms bend you to his lewd will so hard you think you hear your joint creak. Positioning in the perfect angle to flood your insides with heap after sloshing heap of cum.

Once. Twice. 

Multiple orgasms clashing into each other before it tapers out into nothing and you’re feeling Choso’s bawling divot at the very ends of his tip cum dry. 

Only a few seconds later do you realize that those wet speckles crashing heatedly onto your cheeks are tears. And even later do you realize that Choso’s latched his rough fingers onto your overwhelmed clit to pinch. Rolling it so harshly that your fatigued body has no choice but to crash headfirst into your own orgasm.

Your nails draw red, red lines all the way down his pale, sculpted back. Honestly, Choso was so mean when he wanted to be. 

“Y-yeah? K-kiss gimme a kiss, baby–” He’s peeking up at you with practically gleaming eyes - and the syrupy sweet love swirling around was palpable. “Am I a good boy- ngh- d-does it feel good, baby–?”

And you can only nod right about now. Feeling so full inside that it was like his sickly sweet cum was barging into your womb. You gasp when his thickened cock slips out ever-so-slightly from your entrance, gumming out a wet trail of cum. Making Choso snap his head down and-

“Oh.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 28th Dec. 12:01AM

“Sooo…” Sukuna grumbles his hot breath to condense in a feverish puff against the side of your ear in such a mean full nelson. He’s practically laughing at you - chuckling in a drunkenly delirious way. “Think that lil’ human body of yours can give me a hah- twenty-eighth today?”

Hell, you didn’t think it was even possible to withstand such a stretch of his doubly swollen girths jostling around your snug channel. You didn’t think it was possible to last this long-

You’re baring him with a pretty, pretty pout that makes him tunnel his long hard cocks into you even harder. Faster. “O-of course I can-”

Heh…cute. Sukuna didn’t bother telling your proud self that it’d been the reversed curse technique that still kept your drooling cunt so needy without breaking a few bones. Yet. 

“Well, that mouth of yours says ya can- but this pretty pussy…” Trailing off, sharpened black nails trace over your cunt and make you shiver. As if that wasn’t enough - as if the squelching slurps emanating from where your cunt was being so tightly split-apart wasn’t enough - Sukuna manifests his second mouth on a smaller scale to give your pretty clit a long French kiss. “-she’s fuckin’ bratty, isn’t she?”

And he’s planting a staggering smack right onto the neglected bud of your clit. Swiping his heated tongue around and around in such a way that makes you buck-

Swat!

“Oi- keep that cunt still f’me or else…” Now, Sukuna didn’t have to try to ever sound threatening - but then again he never had to bite back such pathetic whimpers from the back of his throat. He never had to hold in his tired whines when your gummy walls stretch so rawly around his cocks. So unfairly good. “O-or else…fuuuck.”

You whirl your dazed eyes around with a sudden gasp - did Ryomen Sukuna stutter? It has you babbling out a stupid, “Kuna, d-did you just-”

Like hell he would let his pretty queen see him like that. 

And without warning - without even a single symptom that he heard your question - Sukuna stands up right onto his muscular feet. 

You’re being slapped with a heavy crash of his dripping wet heads against your bulbous g-spot. Gravity taking its lewd advantage to slide you down, down, down his throbbing lengths until you were scratching up against the wild tufts of pink under Sukuna’s toned abs. Massaged up and down by his muscles - such an obvious show of strength for the king. 

He has you splayed out shamefully - with your legs hooked underneath two of his strong forearms, completely weightless. The other two interlocking on top of your head to have you swallowing every single one of his solid inches. Filthy. 

Sukuna smirks at the translucent rivulets of slick that gloss down his disappearing lengths, “Wh-what- ahem- what were you sayin’, woman? Sorry- ya got a little-” Pounding up even harder. “-loud.”

“I-I don’t-” you’re mewling out, wincing at the rough drag of his second - much larger - tongue craning across your forgotten clit. “-don’ remember, Kuna–”

Of course. 

“Don’t remember?” Sukuna seethes - deep baritone a few octaves higher than usual, words dripping with such utter mocking. “Now h-how will we get to twenty-eight if you can’t even ah- think, brat?”

Nevermind the fact that he couldn’t either. Couldn’t even breathe if he didn’t want to drag out rasping ahs! from his throat. So fucking stimulated that he feels his lips tremble, and can hear his other fucking mouth snicker. Snicker. 

“Tch- open that pretty mouth f’me.”

You barely have a second thought as you do - all so perfect for Sukuna to bless your tongue with a thick wad of his saliva. Honeyed and dripping down your throat.

You’re looking right into his devilishly red eyes as you swallow. “Wan’ more, Kuna–”

“More…” Sukuna breathes out. Small. Broken. More to himself than anything. And he can’t believe it - can’t even compute how the hell he ever got so lucky. Not before chuckling in such a dark and humorless way that makes your sopping pussy even more drenched. “More more more more- hah! I’ll give ya more- She wants more- ya hear that?”

Sukuna’s leering his sleazy gaze allll the way down to your headily dribbling cunt and talking. In utter disbelief - he’s seeing stars right behind his eyes with every raw rub your gripping walls onto his cocks, with every glissading massage against each other. It was such a tight fit. 

“Y-you’re so ngh- gone-” you’re bumbling out boldly. 

“So fuckin’ what-” he’s sneering. “H-honestly- fuckin- let that pretty cunt of yours speak, woman- she’s nicer.”

Syrupy wet slurps following with every crash of his wet tip against your sweet spots. Every languid lick down your presoaked slit, his mouth was everywhere now. Out of control. 

And like he was urging your pussy louder, whispering out a rasping c’mon c’mon c’mon every time he’s pummeling you like he hates you. Twenty eight? Twenty eight Sukuna’s ass, he was going to make your poor pussy cum hard enough for the entire month combined. 

So when you do - that’s exactly how you feel.

Your entire body thrashes in Sukuna’s unforgiving hold. Whining. White-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes, it just felt too good. In the thundering distance somewhere, you hear someone whimper - not you. Sukuna.

His mouth parting into a barely-lucid oh! when his rummaging cocks suddenly burst out in such honeyed trickles of cum. And Sukuna came a lot - he always did - but this was ridiculous. 

You could feel the hefty weight of his lengths double as he floods your bruised and battered insides with swirling swivels of cum. Sloshing around to stick to your inner walls like a second skin with every fuck up deeper and deeper-

“B-brat.” Sukuna whines. Whines. You don’t know what’s more shocking - that or the glassy tears collecting in his eyes. “Such a merciless queen you’d be…”

♡ GOJO SATORU - 31st Dec. 4:44AM

“Please-” And no one can ever say they’ve had the privilege of hearing the great Gojo Satoru beg before. No one can ever say they’ve known the feeling of his hot tears splat! splat! splat! against your shoulder like a slight drizzle. Whimpering, “-please we’re almost- almost there…”

He has you splayed out on your side on that decadent king-sized bed of his, massive palms sliding up and down your shaky thighs to perk them up for him to feed his cock right between them. Over and over and-

“I-I think I c-can feel it coming-” Gojo’s sputtering out, and at this point his rugged thrusts are barely even that. Slow, slurring grinds of his toned hips that make you squeal. ��Think I can- ohhh fuck- I think m’gonna cum again, s-sweetheart.”

It’s just about all you can do to clear your shot throat, rasping out a whiny. “C-cum inside, Toru– wan’ it all oh-” 

And of course when Gojo cums, he’s not going to cum alone. Of course, when he’s nearing his dangerous peak - tipping over practically - he’s giving your plump clit a sudden thwack! with his fingertips. Long, and coated in buzzing cursed energy to make you see stars. 

“Heheh- yer cummin’ again–” he’s crooning in a feverish pitch into your ear. “Such a naughty cunt- h-how are you still creaming all over my hah- cock, darlin’?” Fucking giggling - oh, and for all Gojo’s big mouth he doesn’t even realize that he’s cumming too. 

Bolts of tiny blue lightning peaking at the corners of his eyes, fingertips flashing with the pressure of atoms - and you’re sure that if the bedroom lights hadn’t already shattered many, many orgasms ago then they would have right now.

It takes you a few seconds to regain the feeling in your legs - it takes Gojo a few seconds to realize that he’s cumming dry. Slowly swirling around his fat head in little swipes down your tenderized sweet spots, hips picking up the tempo more. And more. And more and more like he was furious - like he was fuming at the lack of sloshing wads of cum that stream into your gooey depths. 

Fuck.

“O-oh- you’ve broken me-” he’s whining, running those electrified hands up and down your body. Before finally resting on your hardened nipples and pinching. “-look what you’ve- shit- I can’t- I need to. Honey, I need it-”

Shit, he sounded so desperate.

And his movements were just as needy. Teleporting - yeah, not even pulling out for a mere millisecond, he couldn’t even stand the thought - to loom above your body. Flipping you onto your back, his biceps bulge at the fatigue when Gojo’s veering your legs to dangle around his neck.

“A mating press?” you mewl, the burn so merciless. 

But Gojo doesn’t answer- shit, can he even hear you right now? Only gruffing out a rough, “Lock your ankles.” 

You’ve barely even moved to do as your thoroughly pussydrunken husband had said before he’s plugging every spare inch into your cunt so full. Starting off with tiny, lazy gyrations before building up and up and-

“T-Toru–” you sputter out, syrupy voice so sweet that it makes Gojo kiss away your pout in a sodden drag of his rosy lip. And his eyes droop dangerously closed when your clingy walls clutch around him so tight. “Wh-what’s gotten into you- what has you like…”

This.

So feral.

Barely even human at this point.

After pathetically failing at No Nut November, the strongest was determined to complete this month’s challenge. Even it kills him.

Gojo was fucking you so hard into the bed that you’re noticing one side of it had utterly splintered and sagged. And a particularly hard mash of his swollen, red tip into your bouncy cervix makes him slam! one overwhelmed palm down beside your head. In your peripheral vision, you notice that your silky bedsheets had a palm print burnt into it.

“What h-has me like this?” he’s echoing your words like he’s just now heard them. “What has me like this- hahah! What else do you think…” Pressing down onto your inflationary bulge hard so that all voluminous dumps of his cum seeps right through your leaky slit. Gojo’s running a thumb down your teary cunt and plugging it right into your mouth. “Suck. Wh-what do you oh-”

You don’t even give him the sanity to finish his sentence, wrapping those pretty kiss-bitten lips of yours to give his thick thumb a thorough French kiss. You’re tasting him - tasting yourself. 

And the sight is enough for Gojo to let his head fall into your neck and cum. 

“This time-” Gojo’s rasping under his breath, muscular hips jamming into yours again. Fucking his furiously twitchy cock up into your forbidden areas. “This time.” And again. And again and again until the pale, sweat-slicked skin at his abs were rubbed red. “This time- this time- this time this time- fuck no–”

But it’s no use.

No matter how much Gojo’s ramming his weepy length down your snug walls, he was simply cumming dry. Keening at the familiar gloss of oozy cum that dredge their way down his coral pink shaft.

You brush away the drenched locks of snowy white from his pretty features - scrunched and on the verge of sobbing when you’re rutting your hips up tiredly to bounce against his. The mating press was so sloppy that it had your joints popping - ones that your husband immediately rubs over with reversed curse technique. Mumbling, “S’okay, Toru- you lasted this whole ah- month. You don’t need to-”

“-no no no but I need it.” he’s cutting you off. Swirling a few greedy fingers over your clit, “I need it- need it so bad b-because this Christmas…” Momentarily in awe at the way you were so sweetly holding him, so sweetly gulping up every one of his staggering inches. ”-I want a baby.”

Maybe you’re cumming - maybe Gojo is cumming. Maybe both.

You’re not even sure at this point, because despite being broken into a million different shards, the overhead lights flicker on and off. And what you feel is a wisping splatter of his seed drenching the very gooey bottom of yout cunt. Finally. 

Gojo’s orgasm coming out in waves up and down - your own nothing but a tight tingle. He’s dragging his cock to fuck out pearly beads of something delicious. More. More and more- “O-oh no…was that thirty one- hngh- were you keeping count, sweetheart?”

“...”

He has the audacity to grin - all pearly white teeth and glistening trail of drool on display. Big, fat tears rolling down his pretty eyes, “O-one more to make sure?”

A/N. I love making men cry.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[realcube]

AT THE SAME DAMN TIME! *.°★* 。

hot with hq duos !

ft .. all timeskip! hinata + oikawa // osamu + suna // yamaguchi + tsukishima // bokuto + atsumu

tws && tags .. nsfw, vaginal, threeways (mmf). hookups, anal, fingering, breeding k!nk, size k!nk // handjobs, oral (m receiving), praise, general mess // handjob, fingering, anal, degredation, praise // oral (m receiving) , degredation, daddy kink, semi-public sex — minors dni!

HINATA & OIKAWA wanted to have fun together during their time in rio, and naturally, that entailed hitting up local bars and clubs during the night. and who were to condemn them if that led to bringing a sweet girl back to their hotel rooms? it’s part of the culture, after all. however, the issue lay in the fact that they both had their eyes set on the same woman  — and neither of them had any intention of compromising.

alas, their joint stubbornness is what led them to their current situation.

the three of you would drunkenly stagger back to their hotel rooms — while they feign being helpful and wrap their arms protectively around your body under the guise of stablising your inebriated form. but in actuality, they were probably far worse off than you, and would often lose their own balance while handling your hips or lower back, which would then lead to you tripping over too.

eventually you reach their hotel rooms, and due to the fact oikawa lost his keycard at some blankened point during their escapade, it was hinata's room that you all ended up stumbling into.

even while on the lively streets or during the brief intermission in the silent elevator together, the three of you were inappropriately close; leaving slopping kisses on any pieces of exposed flesh and grabbing at parts of each other that could only be described as intimate. thankfully most pedestrians were more involved in their own business, and any onlookers that did notice your PDA were far too drunk to care.

and the affection was only accelerated as soon as you stepped foot into the privacy of hinata's hotel room. almost instantly it became a hot mess; an entanglement of limbs and appendages, furiously trying to get as close to each other as possible.

of course they were more focused on you than each other, and you tried to pay them each and equal amount of attention. thus your clothes became the immediate victims of both their scrutinies, and were torn and ripped off your body urgently by the various hands wandering over your supple figure. for the most part, you let your eyes drift shut and your mind cloud over while their big hands saturated your soft skin, occassionally flicking your nipples or pinching your clit. four hands on you at once.

however if you paid attention, you could tell whose hands belonged to whom.

oikawa was positioned closely behind you, to the point where you could find his firm abs against your back and his breath tickling the crook of your neck. his hands were slender and expert, and his touch was far more playful. fondling your tits or teasing your sensitive clit; all of which he would use as fuel for his growing erection, that you could feel growing against your plush thighs, even through the fabric of his pants. whenever he would elicit a cute moan from your pretty lips, you could feel him huff a chuckle into your neck.

hinata's hands were a bit smaller, but much faster and more keen. he was stood in front of you, and seemingly couldn't decide what he wanted to do. he'd engage you for a deep kiss for around ten seconds at a time, and just before it would get too heavy, he pull away to shift his full attention back onto your body. allowing his daring touch to slip behind you and fully grope your ass, or sink between your legs and excitedly finger you. he was a bit erratic, you could never tell what he was going to do next, and you liked that.

this trite foreplay, however sexy, didn't to satiate them for long though. soon, they became hungry for more of your intoxicating figure.

oikawa was the first one to make a move. while you were sandwiched between the boys, hinata's fingers were knuckles' deep inside your hole, thrusting into you over and over, while squelching noises filled the room. his lips were connected your delicate neck and he was sucking harsh hickeys into your skin. that, in combination with oikawa's arms snaked around your waist so he could rub your clit, was enough to have your knees buckling under you and a lewd string of moans pouring from your heart.

since your mind was clouded with pleasure, you hardly noticed the disappearance of oikawa's stiff cock against the back of your thigh. he shifted away slightly, but only so he could pull his cock free from the confines of his pants with one hand. with the other, he gathered all your sticky arousal from your clit and between your thighs, in order to lubricate his dick until it had the perfect glossy sheen. then, without wasting anymore time, he jammed himself right into your tight asshole.

"nghh—fuck— ahh!" you choked out a broken chain of moans and profanities at the abrupt intrusion. although you'd be lying if you said you weren't into it — which you kinda gave away when you began subconciously grinding back against his fat cock, wanting to urge him deeper inside you despite the fiery pain. it stung so good.

"too big for you, huh?" he hums as he peppers soft kisses across your shoulderblade, "sadly we can't all be fun-sized, so you're just gonna have to take it, baby." you can feel him chuckle to himself lightly against you.

"fun-sized." hinata tuts; thankfully he is too drunk to take it personally and will probably forget that snide remark come morning and the memory will be replaced by a splitting headache. still, he felt the bubbling need to impress you and prove himself. plus, he didn't realise he was allowed to insert himself without a condom, but if oikawa was doing it, hinata was sure to dive in as well.

like everything else he does, he was quick to whip his cock out and slip himself between your plush thighs. using the abundant wetness accumulated around your glistening folds to facilitate his enterance into your tight cunt.

"how's that?" he wasn't exactly his 'fun-sized' as oikawa proclaimed, thus taking his entire cock within your homey walls was not easy by any means.

"mmph, too much.." even with all your natural lubrication, you could feel your twitching walls have to stretch and pull to contain him, and he continued to ram his dick right the way inside you.

"c'mon, (y/n). that's it. ta— shit— take it."

but once you finally managed to keep him all inside, it felt ineffably good. both of them would thrust into you at their own pace, angled upwards which led to your tits constantly bouncing at the impact. with both your holes entirely saturated by their thick cocks, there was no spot inside you left unstimulated. hence, it wasn't long before your legs literally gave out from under you, but thankfully you had two pairs of strong arms to hold you and keep you upright for as long as they needed to use you for.

"gunna.. uhh— mph!" you groan. due the mass amounts of overstimulation, it wasn't long before the growing knot in your abdomen erupted all over hinata's dick, and your very first orgasm had you squirting all over his length.

this obscene display, along with your convulsing walls and pornographic moans was enough to fuel his first climax too, and he spilled his hot seed into your constricting cunt. "d—damn, s-so fucking tight!" he pulled out as he did so, hence some of his cum remained deep inside you or plastered to your sticky walls, while some of it painted your folds and dripped onto the hotel floor.

even while all of this was happened, oikawa's steady and rough pace never relented. he continued ploughing into your ass even as hinata stood for a moment to catch his breath and get hard again, but hinata — as well — immediately buried his fingers into your pussy to replace the absense of his dick.

with a bit more longevity, oikawa's first climax occured a few minutes later, as alluded to by his increasingly brutal pace into your puckered hole. basking in the snug cling of your walls, he remained inside you and planted his hearty load deep into your ass.

this warm sensation flooding your insides was enough to prompt your second climax, which had your legs shaking and your holes gripping onto oikawa's dick and hinata's fingers for dear life, rendering both of them unable to move. not that oikawa intended to anyway, he stayed stationary in your ass until you had thoroughly milked him dry, only then did he pull out.

"shit," he heaved.

"ready to go again, pretty?" newly erect hinata asked innocently, subtly aligning himself with your sticky enterance before you even managed to focus your eyes on him.

"shoyo, we'll switch, huh?" oikawa mused, idly rubbing your raw hole with his fingers. hinata nodded at the idea and hurriedly switched places with oikawa.

now in front of you, oikawa admired your fucked-out expression, and your wet lashline, "pretty girl, aren't ya? even after two loads." he pressed his lips againsts yours for a fierce kiss, during which he wraps his arm around your waist and guides you forward, so that you land perfectly on top of him as he stumbles back onto the hotel double bed.

hinata eagerly follows the two of you, and while you are laying on oikawa, he positions his cock by your ass.

after that night, you learned your lesson about getting in bed with olympic level athletes. the expensive booze and nice hotel rooms might be tempting, but their stamina is unmatched — you just about had to open your third eye to be able to keep up!

OSAMU & SUNA hadn't seen each other in so long. hence, when osamu invited suna to visit him back in hyogo, they had a lot to catch up on. due to his busy schedule and distant location, suna wasn't able to visit his hometown very often and shockingly, had never even been to onigiri miya. naturally, that's the first thing osamu wanted to show him when he arrived.

and how could osamu show suna his store without introducing him to his favourite worker?

your knees ached against the cold tiles of the backroom. the bleak, damp area where osamu would keep stacks of crates and cardboard boxes filled with random crap he bought in bulk — it was cramped and there wasn't enough room to swing a cat, but you make it work.

osamu and suna stood over you, gazing down in amusement as they watched you eagerly pump their fat cocks with each of your hands, simultaneously. your face wound in concentration, as your head bobbed back and forth between the two men's dicks; either licking the tip or taking a substantial amount into your mouth for a quick suck, then hastily retreating and servicing the other — lest either of them feel neglected.

but they could count on the fact that each time you'd give their girthy shaft a lick or pop their buldging tip into your mouth, your gaze would promptly flicker up to their faces, seeking approval in the form of a smile or a nod or a moan.

it was disgustingly cute how desperate you were for validation.

osamu even aknowledged your attention-seeking with a low chuckle, rasping out in a hushed voice, cautious not to let slip a moan from your furious hand-work on his cock, "good girl, ain't she?" even as he spoke to suna, he's eyes never parted from your needy figure below him.

and suna was the same; entirely fixated on you as he gritted, "y—yeah.." when you switched to licking his length and lapping up the salty precum leaking from his tip, he leaned down and cupped your chin with his strong hands, "mgh— fuck. can i- take her home?" what was supposed to be light-hearted joke, came out more as a staggered breath. a plea, even.

osamu tangled his fingers into your hair, and used his grip on your head to slowly guide you back towards his cock, smiling warmly as you gracious accept his whole length in your mouth again and begin frantically sucking. "hm, how's that sound, (y/n)?" he hums, greyed eyes locked with yours, "wanna go home with suna?"

he pushes you even further into his cock, and they both chuckle under their breath when you try to respond but all that ends up coming out is a muffled 'mmph!'

however, the vibrations of your lips against his cock are enough to send him hurtling over the fast-approaching edge, and osamu reaches his climax while buried in your mouth. just as he tips into his high, the waves of sharp bliss coarsing through him causes him to relax his grip on your hair, allowing you to finally jerk backwards and gasp for air.

although, these two occurences happening in tandem only leads to a sticky mess. his first couple spurts splash all over the lower part of your face, from your upper lip to your chin, and thus dripping down onto the breast area of your origiri miya uniform. as you continue to pump both their cock's with your tight-fists, any cum after that was angled directly into your agape mouth, to prevent any further disarray.

but what you weren't prepared for, was this obscene sight to cause suna to reach his own orgasm shortly after. so while you are still focused on osamu and trying to lick his tip clean of any remnants, suna — with nothing but a muted groan for a warning — furiously ejaculates all over the side of your face and hair, making you even messier.

being the behaved girl osamu trained you to be, you pumped him through his orgasm too and tried to gather as much of his bitter seed in your mouth as you could, but your efforts were in vain. you had been completed soiled with their sticky cum, and once he had finished, you had to wipe it away from your eyes before you even dared look up at them both.

their loads mixed together on your bruised lips and chin, stained your previously prisitine work shirt, and dripped from the loose strands of your hair. they had left you entirely dishevelled; it was so hot.

"what a cute mess." osamu wipes a bit of his semen off your chin, and held his finger in front of your mouth. you promptly opened up and licked it clean, a small whine escaping as you do so. "good girl. think you can go again?"

you pout up at him, silently, and osamu stroked your cum-stained cheek, while suna slumps against the wall and tries to catch his breath, "c'mon, suna won't be here for long. he's going home on friday." osamu bargains, but you don't seem to waver at that. so instead, he propositions, "i'll buy your favourite pretzels next time i go to the wholesaler."

now that piques your interest, and you nod enthusiastically to show your agreement. at which, he bend over and places a firm kiss against your forehead, while cupping your chin, "there's my angel." he rasps, "my employee of the month."

YAMAGUCHI & TSUKISHIMA paid extra to be roommates in college. little did they know, the fee they paid only guaranteed that they would be put in a room together, and not that no one else will be in their dorm with them. and that's how they met you.

thankfully you were chill though, the three of you got on quite well. there were two rooms in the flat — tsukki and yams shared one, and you got the other one. another girl was supposed to move into your room but she ended up dropping out. which was probably for the best, another person's presence might've disturbed the very delicate relationship the three of you have.

which basically means, the two of them are bests friend and they both think they are fucking you behind the other's back.

you knew you were into both of them at the same time, and at any point you could've pulled the plug on the whole charade and come clean, but you love the thrill of it. how tsukishima would ghost his fingers over your clit under the table while you all ate dinner together. or how you'd attempt the world's fastest quickie with yamaguchi whenever tsukishima would step outside of the flat for ten minutes to smoke. and how your heart would race in your chest as you both are half-naked, scrambling to get your clothes on when you could hear tsukishima's keys jaggling in the door.

thankfully you made it just in time, and tsukishima was way too tired to notice that you were wearing a karasuno hoodie and yamaguchi was wearing your lace cami.

regardless, you managed to keep this ploy going for almost a year. but as they say, all good things must come to an end. and that day came in the form of the night after your final exam for the semester, and the three of you were celebrating by boozing in your flat.

you started in the kitchen, making all sorts of concoctions out of the drinks you had splurged on. every single thing you made tasted vile and had around 60% alcohol content. you'd throw a splash of orange juice into a jug of everclear, pour into fancy glasses and call that a cocktail. cheers!

next, you migrated to their bedroom to do shots off the radiator. truthfully, you all calmed down a bit by then. each of them were sat on their own beds, and you were sprawled on the floor in the centre. you each had your own beverage and would sip it casually while recollecting on this last semester at college.

finally, once it got dark outside, you stumbled into the living room and plopped yourselves down in front of the tv to watch the bachelor and play a drinking game. however, around three episodes in, you were all so wasted you could hardly look at any more alochol, and were more absorbed into the show.

or, at least, they were. you were in a predicament. sandwiched between two cute guys on the couch, but if you were to make a move on one of them, the other would undoubtedly notice and that would spoil your entire shenanigan that you spend the whole year honing.

but fortunately, you were far too drunk to care.

without thinking much of it, your left hand moved slyly, hidden under the dark, towards yamaguchi's elastic waistband, playing with his drawstrings idly. his uncertain gaze met your own — and if it wasn't for the fact his better judgement was nullified, he would've immediately jolted away from this situation. but for some reason, he stayed docile and doting as you slipped your hand into his trousers to handle his hastily growing erection.

your eyes remain locked to each other, until tsukishima must've finally noticed the suspicious motion out of the corner of his eye, as he sits upright and yells, "what the hell are you—" evidently he was going to call to question you pumping his best friend right beside him on the couch, but you were quick to shut him up by snaking your other arms behind his neck and pulling him in close for a passionate kiss.

he's stiff and apprehensive at first, but it doesn't take long for him to melt into your touch, and your kiss gets so heated you're basically moaning into each other, lips weaving together fiercely and only parting for brief gasps for air.

of course yamaguchi noticed this too, but he was so out of it, he couldn't find it in himself to care — with the fuzzy drunk feeling, and the salacious stimulation from the friction of your palms against his cock, he was on cloud 9 and there was nothing that could bring him down. if anything, the sight of you and his best friend making out only turned him on more.

tsukishima's hands began to wander as you kissed; fondling your tits and pulling the neckline of you tanktop down so he could roll your pebbled nippled between his fingers. "tsukki.." you whined into his mouth, and he only glared down at you through his foggy glasses. "i need you inside me.."

before tsukishima had a chance to respond, yamaguchi must've overheard your request and thought it was directed at him, as he grabbed you by your hips and lifted you onto his lap, where his firm cock stood against his abdomen. you squealed slightly as this happened and held onto tsukki's shoudler for stability.

momentarily, their goals aligned simultaneously and both of their hands gripped onto the top of your pyjama pants and began tugging them down urgently; tsukishima working on getting your right leg out while yamaguchi did your left. and before you knew it, your bottom half was entirely bare as you were slumped back on yamaguchi's lap.

you could feel the imprint of yamaguchi's dick on your lower back and it was incredibly stiff. it was a miracle he had the patience to reach forward and massage your damp folds. tsukishima did something similar. he was sat beside you and it didn't take long before you both started kissing again, but this time it was less feverish and more gentle, fleeting even. and his fingers were glued to your cunt too, but unlike yamaguchi, he was nothing but an agitator. he'd pinch your clit and tug at your labia and tease your sopping hole, all while chuckling lowly into the kiss whenever he would elicit any kind of irritated reaction from you.

"ow, kei.." you moaned.

yamaguchi also noted what his friend was doing and huffed, "leave her alone, tsukki.. be gentle.." you pout and gently nod in agreement with yamaguchi's statement, and tsukishima simply rolls his eyes.

in contrast to his previous proclaimation, yamaguchi utilises his hold on your hips to hover you over his lap slightly, allowing him enough space to navigate his cock towards your puckered asshole. you're so absorbed in your kiss with tsukishima and his fiendish touches on your cunt that you don't realise what yamaguchi is doing until he's already sunk his throbbing tip into your hole.

your face contorts to reflect the lewd stretching sensation he's brought upon you and a whiny moan is ripped out of your throat. " ta— adashi!"

tsukishima is able to infer what's happened from your shriek-like moaning, and an amused smirk spreads across his lips, "what happened to being gentle?" he commented sarcastically, and you're too overcome by the conjestive sensation of yamaguchi's cock worming into your tight ass to even bother pay tsukki any mind. but tadashi did glare daggers at him on your behalf.

yamaguchi cradles your waist in his hands and tenderly rubs your supple skin, attempting to relax you to aid your hole accepting the rest of his length. "almost there, that's it." he muses quietly into your ear as you slowly fit more of him inside you. and with one last deep breath, you're able to reach his base. "there we go." yamaguchi praises.

"ngh!" you groan in triumph, chest heaving at the mental energy took just to try fight against your restrictive walls. but oh, it felt so rewarding to win.

tsukishima clicked his tongue, leaning back against the couch while his hand lazily made it's way between your thighs and inserted it's digits into your slobbering hole. so wet that your juices were foaming around his knuckles, as he curled them inside your pussy.

although he was silently jealous that yamaguchi was the one who was balls-deep in you, he couldn't falt his friend for taking the initiative. plus, it meant he got the pleasure of watching the erotic show that was your facial expressions while trying to take dick; your eyes would screw shut and your pretty lips would press together in discomfort, and your perky tits would bounce around when you would constantly shift yourself to angle his cock better inside you, but clearly all your efforts were futile.

but now yamaguchi wasn't doing anything. he wasn't taking advantage of the oppertunity like he should be. he just laid there like a dead-fish, in tsukishima's eyes. but what kei wasn't seeing, was how yamaguchi was revelling in the unreal sensation of your ass clinging onto him. even without stimulation it was enough to get him off and get him high.

but tsukishima was just bored. even if his fingers were buried in your cunt and your lips were peppering kisses on his neck. so he had nothing better to do than turn the tv back on with his spare hand.

and that's how the three of you spent a considerable portion of the night — with your ass cockwarming yamaguchi's throbbing erection, and tsukishima's fingers terrorising your poor pussy.

and of course the next morning was spent cleaning absurd amount of alochol, cum squirt and other bodily fluids off a couch that didn't belong to you.

BOKUTO & ATSUMU were both slumped on the bench after a long day of training with the MSBY jackals. it was especially intense and laborious today as they have a big game tomorrow, so the pressure is truly on. the two of them were both sat, sipping their water bottles and cooling down while talking about their upcoming match, until their assistant manager approached them.

"how are you feeling about tomorrow, guys?" you ask cheerily, holding their volleyball under your arm.

they glance nervously between each other; a strange sight from two men who are usually confident and upbeat. "uh.." atsumu starts, avoiding eye-contact by means of looking anywhere else.

"could be better." bokuto finishes his teammate's sentence with an awkwardly wide smile.

"awh, yeah. it's a lot of pressure, huh?" you chirp, and if it were coming from anyone but you, it would probably be patronising. with an innocent tilt of your head, you inquire, "anything i can do to help take away some of the stress?"

bokuto and atsumu both stare up at you with wide-eyes, and then turn to each other in unison.

what you had in mind was more to do with preparing their meals or helping them take their equitment to their car, but their idea works too.

in the jackals changing room, they had you bend over in between them. bokuto was sloppily pounding into your pussy with his monster cock while you were leaned over just enough that you were able to suck atsumu's dick at the same time.

at first it was a very strenous position, but eventually they ended up doing all the work. your knees just about went limp as soon as bokuto jammed his full length into your wet cunt, so he had his arm hooked under your abdomen to hold you up. to the point where your feet were basically hovering milimeters above the ground.

meanwhile, atsumu kept a firm grip on your hair and ensured you were slurping up every last inch of his cock. he'd grind into your face, enthralled by the way you were forced to deepthroat him and would moan lewdly into his base, "shit! good girl." he roared in pleasure. and since he towered over you, he was easily able to lean over and plant a harsh smack on your ass, with a hearty chuckle.

bokuto watched the jiggle and with a goofy smile plastered on his face, "yeah, good girl," he repeated, landing another spank right on your other ass cheek. however, he doesn't know his own strength at times and his slap actually stung, which caused you to instinctually gasp with atsumu's cock in your mouth.

and that really seemed to do it for him.

"what a naughty slut for daddy, huh?" he gritted, cradling your chin in his hands, "tryin' to impress me or something?"

tears prick at your lashline as you gaze up at him innocently. but there's nothing innocent about the way he shoves his cock into your mouth, or the way your tits sway as bokuto thrusts manically into your pussy.

"nasty bitch.. wanna impress me?" something about the way you feign purity really turns him on though, and that's what prompts him to keep an iron hold on your hair, even as he reaches his climax. "swallow it all like a good whore." he grits with a crazed smile. groans stumble off his tongue as spurts of his hot cum lauch down your throat, and you do what your told and swallow it all, not that you're given much of a choice.

"y-yeah.. just like that. fuck yeah, drink it all up, (y/n). drink it up for daddy." he grumbles with his head tossed back in ecstasy. all the while, bokuto is still relentlesly piercing into your tight cunt, basically splitting you in half with both his pace and his length. the twitching veins of his cock rub deliciously against your spongy walls, and are sure to send you over the edge any second n—

"uh, excuse me."

hm. perhaps it was due to atsumu's obnoxiously vocal orgasm, or bokuto's loud and passionate moans, or perhaps the sheer volume of the squelching noise eminating from your soaked pussy, but none of you were able to hear sakusa approaching and entering the msby jackal changing room.

thus, he was stood awkwardly by the enterance, staring at your current circumstance.

"uh, kiyoomi.." atsumu heaves, trying to focus his eyes after the post-orgasmic haze. "want to join?"

"always room for another bro." bokuto chimes in with a innocuous smile.

sakusa shuffles his feet slightly, wavering between staying and confronting the situation or just heading straight for the door like this gut wanted him to. but when he catches a glimpse of your cute face, still stuffed with atsumu's cock, and your ass in the air, grinding against bokuto's chest, that is enough to win him over.

"sure.."

[megapteraurelia]

“you’ve read the page, like, three times.”

fushiguro megumi didn’t look up. “because someone won’t stop staring.”

“i’m not staring.”

a disapproving click of his tongue, “i can feel it. shameless as you are, you’re not even pretending to look away.”

“no, you can’t,” you stretched, muscles tensing up deliciously; your hands flailing right in his line of sight and he leaned back, trying to dodge your flopping limbs, an annoyed grunt escaping him. but when you allowed your body to crumble in on itself, he didn’t move the hand that landed on his knee, right underneath the book he was holding.

fushiguro megumi huffed a sigh, and the dark blue of his eyes fluttered back to his book. his lashes, long and soft the way they shielded his eyes from the sunshine, were catching the light, painted dark with a golden shimmer. his one leg was tucked under him, his one hand propped his head up, fingers buried in his hair. 

his eyebrows slightly furrowed, teeth worrying his lips as he mindlessly picked the skin off his mouth, finally losing himself in the words on paper when you stayed quiet. he shifted slightly to balance the book on his knee, hand turning the page, careful, calm. even though he muttered at you with a tone of voice that suggested irritation, his book was slightly tilted towards you, in a way that made you feel welcome, that made you feel like he liked having you around him.

“you look like the book is making you mad.”

megumi turned another page, blinking, eyebrows drawn together. “that’s just my face.”

you snorted and let your head fall onto the couch, buried in the cushion that smelled like him. his leg comforting against your hand and you could have fallen asleep right then there with the soft inhale and exhale of megumi’s chest, the warm caress of sunshine on your cheek, the silence in the air serene. 

like time suspended, both of you existed here and now. no curses, no teachers, no classmates, just you and him. him and you. 

“read to me?” you asked, voice a bit softer, inquiring, yearning to connect to him, to lose yourself in the way his voice would form syllables, the deep timbre hugging the words close. he knew just how to give soul to the words, how to string them along to form a sentence; when to stop, when to continue, when to give time for its meaning to sicker.

he didn’t answer for a little while, and you didn’t push him to. 

when sleep knocked on your door, trying to settle over you like a thick blanket, that was when his voice infiltrated the space between you both. low, settled, a bit awkward but steady. 

the sun kept dancing over your face to the edge of the couch to the floor, and time kept pretending it didn’t exist. your hand on his leg stayed there, warm, seeking, and he never flinched, never stopped reading. page after page of seemingly boring medicinal properties of tea, yet it came to life with the care that he spilled forth his being.

one hand of his quietly found its way through the strands of your hair.

AUTHOR'S NOTE | for the nonnie, who asked me to write for megumi: i'm working on it!!! you have actually spurred my mind on to do a deep dive into megumi's psyche and,,,, nfgnghnngn so i'm so sorry if it'll take a bit longer. i just!!! have an idea!! and need to put it to paper!!

have this little domestic moment between megumi and yn tho in the meanwhile! :33

[yameoto]

college fuckgirl!caitlyn hcs (+ basketball star) who is totally whipped for u and doesn’t know what the hell to do about it

fuckgirl!caitlyn, hardtoget!reader, sub!caitlyn, for once not pure jerkoff material, she likessssss you.

▸ not the notches in her bedposts type; caitlyn doesn’t brag about her conquests. she’s classy like that. she does strut about the halls, exuding a casual sort of elegance that has girls falling over their feet. remembers all their names. grasping her solo cup between slim fingers like a wine glass and smiling over the rim. cryptic and beautiful and so utterly entrancing that she’ll have girls’ who were cursing her name two moments ago bent over the bathroom sink, with just a drawl of their name, followed by a “right?”, even if they know they’ll be discarded like yesterday’s trash.

▸ excellent in bed. obviously. charm isn’t everything. she also has a talented tongue and fingers and the stretch of her cock. priorities the girls’ pleasure because good manners have been beaten into her since she was born and she likes the way it feels to fuck into a pussy sopping in cum, gliding in the silky trenches of fiercely clenching folds as they scramble into the sheets and moan her name, fucking the nerves out of them.

▸ and then; you. she wants to fuck you so bad it’s driving her insane. caitlyn doesn’t brag. she doesn’t have sex for the sake of having sex. she just does—often. and she does it well—which has had her gain a teensy-tiny reputation for it. that doesn’t mean she’s a complete ass! doesn’t know why you hold it against her. she’s not some meathead jock trying to get her dick wet. she’s the star of the team, top of (most) of her classes, and shoe-in for valedictorian. plus, she’s rich. and pretty. and just—totally fuckworthy. everyone knows it!

▸ decorated basketball player. plays shooting guard like she was born for it; all lean limbs and sinew as she glides about the court like a koi fish in the water. oh, and she’s a show-off, too. avoids saying corny shit like “this is for you,” even if she really, really wants to—but when she spins on the court and hurls a three-pointer—and her eyes flick up right to you in the stands, intense and focused. that’s when she mouths. “that was for you.”

(jogs up to you afterwards, sweat dripping off her brow and down the long stretch of her neck, as she airs out her jersey with that cockily arched brow. can’t resist the grin on her face. 21 points to her name—meeting your eyes everytime. it falls at the unimpressed look on your face.

“you had to wait til’ after you made the shot?”

“well, i’m not gonna dedicate a losing shot to you. that’s lame.”

“you are lame.”

“objectively untrue.” caitlyn frowns, ball still curled under her arm as she paces after you, as you stride off the bleachers, and if there’s a little whine in her voice there isn’t. “you know, there isn’t a girl on this college who wouldn’t be dying to get under me.” she says it so matter-of-fact, in that irritatingly attractive accent of hers, and even though it’s true it doesn’t make her sound any less like an asshole.

“i wonder why.”

“darling.” whiney, whiney, whiney.

“dickhead.” and if you sound just a little smug that you have caitlyn kiramman wrapped around your finger, that’s just for you to know.)

▸ caitlyn just doesn’t get it. how can you possibly not like her? or at least find her attractive enough to at least want her a little bit. she certainly wants you. she’s at a loss. usually, a bat of her lashes, a whisper of her name is enough to get anyone’s legs splayed wide open for her. when you don’t, she has no fucking clue how to work you. starts lingering just a few desks from you at the library, to catch glimpses of you studying (and yeah? caitlyn looks a little cute like that; glasses perched on the tip of her nose as her brows furrowed in concentration, tongue poking out as she thinks about the pretty lilt of your jaw whenever you fix her with that im-so-sick-of-you look.. the way your arm muscles stretch behind your head when you yawn like a cat arching it’s back up for a scratch.. the way your voice sounds a touch raspy whenever you’ve been staying up super late studying and grant her the mercy of your husky, velvet undertones telling her to fuck right off… has to release a deep, long, wistful sigh just thinking about it)

▸ it goes on like that, for what feels like forever. caitlyn niggling her way into your day-to-day life as you begrudgingly entertain her. following you around like a lost puppy to the point where it starts rumours.

(she’s been sitting three seats away from you on the table for the past half-hour. sneaking glances every so often as she rereads the same paragraph over and over again, before she clears her throat and asks, chin held high. “so.. what’d you get in that test?”

shit. did her voice just crack?

the so-called legendary mystique of caitlyn kiramman really wears off when you realise how hopelessly awkward she can be.

you take pity on her, lips quirking as your gaze slides to meet hers, exasperated. yet, you answer her anyways. “92%.”

she hums, fingers drumming against the table. “uh—nice.” oh. now she’s blushing. you can also tell it’s taking everything in her not to let her own 100% bubble up and out of her lips, because she doesn’t want you to think she’s conceited. you know she’s totally itching to say it, though. wants you to know. it’s almost cute.

a sigh. you move the bag off the seat next to you. “c’mere.”

caitlyn’s head snaps up, and her eyes are really so very beautiful, all wide and starry in disbelief. “what?”

“hurry up, superstar. don’t make me regret it.”

caitlyn straightens, and then hurries to take the spot beside you, cheeks burning. she squirms a little in her seat, and the gleam of amusement only makes her want the ground to swallow up because god, she’s never acted like this with anyone. she’s caitlyn kiramman! cool, composed, collected; an energy that takes up the most space in the room, makes girls’ knees buckle, has boys stammering with just a smile. and yet, you have her melting in a puddle with the barest glimpse of your attention.

..fine. maybe she doesn’t just want to fuck you.

"don't piss your pants, kiramman." you say, without missing a beat, pen still scrawling away notes. "i don't bite."

caitlyn splutters for a response, and.. hey! that's her line!

oh. she’s so, so screwed).

fuckgirl!basketball!cait (record-time) blowjob

[luvsupa]

TRICK-WHORE-TREAT!

summary: do NOT fuck summon the insanely hot curse, sukuna.

tags: trueform!sukuna x fem!reader, modern day, pwp, smut (p in v), ōral sex (f!recieving), food (candy) play, sukuna has two dicks, he’s a bully, petnames, dumbification, etc. mdni.

w.c: 2.7k

a/n: HAPPY HALLOWEEN GUYS 🧡🧡 IM SOO HAPPY THAT YOU ALL HAVE BEEN FOLLOWING W MY KINKTOBEER MWAAA!!! lowkey sad it’s done but ENJOYYY 🧡

kinktober masterlist

“the hell’s that?” you ask, stepping into the livingroom after finishing up your nightly skincare routine. tonight, it’s just you and your friends mina and sage, skipping every halloween party to hang out together . you’ve all stocked up on snacks and horror games to keep yourselves entertained.

“no clue, got it off some marketplace—thing was dirt cheap,” sage shrugs, holding up an ancient, dusty book that looks like it’s been around since the dawn of time. you step closer as sage hands over the grimy thing, flipping the first page and frowning at the unreadable text.

“this is the dumbest shit ever, we can’t even read it,” you mutter, slamming the book shut as dust fills the air, making you gag. but something about it still piques your interest, so mina does a quick search and manages to decode some of the ancient alphabet, translating the words:

RYOMEN SUKUNA, KING OF CURSES.

SEALED AWAY BY: GOJO CLAN.

DO NOT SUMMON.

you nearly lose it at the dramatic warning. a king of curses sealed up in a ten-dollar marketplace relic? yeah, super scary.

“so, this is like…a bootleg ouija board?” mina asks, clutching your cat, coco, for comfort. you drop the book onto the coffee table with a snort as you and sage crack it open again, flipping through each creaking page. mina pulls your cat tighter as it hisses, clearly over her nerves. as you dig through the pages, you find some ridiculous official chant,

“ryomen sukuna, king of curses, awaken now. break from the seal, emerge from the night.”

you and sage recite it over and over, while mina shuts her eyes like you’re actually summoning something worth fearing.

“lame ass book,” you scoff, tossing it behind you, where it lands with a dull thud on the carpet. after that, you grab the other games you brought for the night, and the three of you dive into a marathon of competitive chaos, yelling and laughing until your voices are hoarse. hours slip by, and between the endless rounds and maybe a bit too much snacking, exhaustion starts to sink in.

“gooood nighttt,” you all mumble sleepily as you collapse, deciding to let mina and sage take the bed while you settle onto the makeshift floor bed. you don’t mind the floor—anything for them.

soon enough, silence fills the room, but in the dead of night, a sudden blast of wind slips under the door, rattling it hard enough to shake you awake. your eyes blink open, heavy with sleep, as a strange light spills through the door’s cracks. did you really forget to turn the lights off?

you tap your phone and squint at the screen, 3:27 AM. you groan softly, realizing you’ve barely slept an hour before the cool wins wakes you. maybe you left the window open?

rising from your makeshift bed, you glance over at sage and mina, fast asleep, curled up with your stuffed animals. you tiptoe toward the door, gently easing it open. you nearly yelp when coco, your cat, slips past you and pads silently toward the living room, ignoring your whispered calls as you follow her.

you freeze when coco hops up into a lap—a man’s lap.

your gaze slowly travels up the figure sitting casually on your couch. in the dim light, you can’t fully make out his features, but you catch glimpses—dark, muscular limbs, and the glint of red eyes that pierce through the shadows. coco purrs contentedly in his lap, her small body relaxed as he strokes her fur with a disturbingly gentle touch.

“c-coco…?” your voice is barely a whisper, each syllable shaky as dread knots in your stomach. as your eyes adjust, you realize he has…more than two arms. two extra limbs drape over the couch, relaxed and disturbingly still.

“coco?” he chuckles darkly, voice rich and deep, cutting through the silence. “show respect, peasant.”

a chill races down your spine. his voice carries a weight that sinks into your bones, making you want to shrink back. he cradles coco close to his chest, his other hands moving with unnatural grace, almost possessively, as if she were his own.

“such a precious creature…i’ve missed having a pet in my kingdom.” he speaks slowly, each word dragging, drawing you further into his presence. kingdom? a sinking feeling tightens your chest as your eyes flick to the spot where you’d tossed that cheap book…now gone.

you edge toward the light switch, hand shaking as you flip it on. what you see makes your heart plummet.

he sprawls on the couch with a lazy, terrifying ease, two extra arms draped like they belong there, his legs spread wide in dark, traditional robes, your small cat nestled comfortably in one of his enormous hands. as your eyes trail up, you catch the tattoos winding over his skin, tracing ancient patterns that seem to pulse. then you see them—two extra eyes, fixed on you, gleaming with an unearthly red glow.

“s-sukuna?” you breathe, recognition dawning as your mind replays the cursed illustrations from the book. your stomach twists. you’ve summoned him. his head lifts, and his eyes lock onto yours—four intense, ruby orbs that make you feel like prey.

slowly, sukuna rises from the couch, his towering frame unfolding to its full, monstrous height. his head nearly brushes the ceiling, his presence filling the room, suffocating. he steps closer, holding coco in one hand while his other arms hang back, giving him an unnervingly calm stance as he approaches. you’re trembling, pinned in place by the dark weight of his gaze.

“woman, your scent…” his voice lowers, rough and insistent, as he gently places coco on the ground. she slinks off, disappearing into the shadows as his eyes never leave yours. “…it’s clouding my mind.”

a sharp heat flares through you, fear mingling with something darker. without thinking, you press your thighs together, shocked by the rush of sensation that shouldn’t be there, not with this terrifying creature towering over you. you back away slowly, unable to break eye contact, until you feel the wall press against your back.

“tell me,” he purrs, a mocking smirk curling his lips as he steps into your space, trapping you between the wall and the solid, overwhelming force of him. “isn’t it pathetic…getting all worked up for a ‘lame ass’ like me?” he taunts, voice dark and dangerous. you swallow hard, realizing he heard every insult, every careless word about him and that “cheap ass book.”

“not my fault that book was less than ten bucks,” you snap back, defiance flickering up despite the fear pressing down on you. you’re not sure where the courage comes from, but you hold his gaze.

his chuckle is a low, rumbling sound, his red eyes burning into you. your gaze dips down, lingering on the sculpted lines of his abdomen under his robe, catching on the hard outline beneath the fabric.

the sick fucker was turned on too.

he’s probably more turned on than you, and it’s beyond obvious as he has you folded in half on the couch, your legs painfully stretched back, feet nearly reaching past your head. two of his hands pin your thighs down with a grip that feels bruising, while his other two cradle the backs of your inner thighs, spreading you open with no mercy. his tongue, impossibly long and sinfully thick, reaches deep, curling once it finds that sweet spot that makes you cry out. your eyes flutter as you fight to stay conscious, catching a glimpse of his face twisted in raw, desperate need. when one of his eyes meets yours, a spark of dark hunger flickers within his piercing gaze, sending a shiver through your entire body.

your walls clamp around his tongue as he plunges even deeper, hitting places that make your breath hitch. “m-more,” you moan, voice needy and broken, completely lost in him. his lips curl into a smirk against you, and he lets you grind into his mouth, allowing you to lose yourself in the pleasure. without you realizing, sukuna reaches for something on the table—a bottle of thick blue syrup, something new he’s been itching to try on you.

your eyes roll back when you feel the cool syrup drizzle onto your swollen, sensitive folds, and you gasp, watching as the blue liquid glistens against your flushed skin, sliding down to coat every inch. sukuna’s grip tightens, pressing your legs further down, holding you in the filthiest position imaginable. he takes his time, squeezing ever sticky drop from the bottle as it pools on your clit, mixing with your arousal and slowly dripping lower, reaching your entrance. his tongue pulls away just enough for him to admire the mess he’s made, eyes gleaming with satisfaction at the way the syrup clings to your needy, twitching cunt.

then, without warning, his mouth is back on you, his tongue dives in, lapping up the syrup in messy, hungry strokes. the taste of blue raspberry mixes with your own sweetness, driving him wild, and he groans deeply as he sloppily devours you. his lips stain blue, and he doesn’t care; he’s making out with your cunt like he’s starved for it, sucking hard on your clit until your mind spins. you feel the gentle scrape of his fangs against your sensitive skin, and the pressure builds as he tugs and pulls, drawing out every bit of sensation he can, his mouth relentless and filthy as he drives you past the edge.

his grip tightens on your legs, pressing them even further down as he spreads you wider, eyes locked onto the sight in front of him. he lets his tongue swirl over your clit, catching the sticky syrup with sloppy, hungry strokes. “look at you,” he groans between licks. “soaked and covered in candy like my own personal treat.” he chuckles darkly, lips stained blue as he smears the syrup messily around your swollen, twitching folds.

“‘kuna, jus’ fuck me already,” you whine, voice thick with impatience. you’ve never felt this desperate, and your gaze keeps drifting down to the thick bulge pressing against his robe. all four of sukuna’s ruby eyes narrow, and he lets out a low, mocking chuckle, clearly taken aback by your demand.

“you think you can boss me around, huh?” he taunts, his grip tightening on your chin as he taps your lips, silently demanding you open your mouth. the moment you part your lips, he spits a thick wad of saliva right onto your tongue. you swallow it instantly, almost embarrassingly eager. he grins down at you, his expression twisted with amusement, and gives your cheek a few light taps. “so nasty… and here i thought you had some dignity.”

in a swift motion he pulls you into his lap, forcing your thighs to spread over his muscular legs. when did he even take off his pants? you barely have time to process it as you feel the heat radiating from him, and your eyes drop to the bulge under his robe.

“you want it so bad?” he sneers, pushing you back with a rough shove. “prove it. since you think you’re in charge, you’re gonna work for it.” he unties his robe with a calculated slowness, letting it slip open. your eyes widen, breath catching at the sight of not one, but two thick, throbbing cocks, pre-cum dripping from both angry red tips, veins snaking along their length. and on his stomach, a grinning mouth, twisted and sinister, completes the terrifying sight.

“what’s wrong? too much for you?” he laughs, watching as your jaw drops, taking in every inch of him. “thought you wanted to act all big and baaad.” his eyes flash as he jerks his hips up, rubbing his tips against your soaked entrance. “go on then. ride me… let’s see if you can keep up, princess.”

“t-two? are you insane?” you gasp, eyes locked on his monstrous cocks, both thick and throbbing as they twitch under his dark gaze. sukuna just smirks, his hand wrapping around one shaft, tapping the flushed, swollen tip against your clit. each soft thud electrifies you, your body jolting with each contact as you slump against his chest, barely able to hold yourself up.

“c’monnn, where’d all that attitude go?” he sneers, flicking your forehead as a warning. the sting makes you wince, and he’s already impatient, lifting your hips with two large hands, positioning you right over his leaking tip. you can barely breathe as you look down, staring at how massive he is. there’s no way you can take all of him—but he’s clearly planning to fit both.

you cry out as he sinks you down onto his first cock, stretching you open in one brutal thrust. your eyes widen, feeling every thick inch filling you to the brim, your walls straining around him, slick and achy. glancing down, you can see the bulge forming where he’s stuffed so deep inside.

sukuna chuckles lowly, a dark, mocking sound that reverberates through your body as his hands roam your hips, patting your head in a twisted kind of praise. “not so tough now, huh?” he taunts, his voice thick with satisfaction as he watches you struggle to take him. you’re utterly stuffed, thighs trembling, mind swimming, and he’s just getting started.

he groans when he feels your walls flutter around him, clenching tighter as his hands move down to your ass, squeezing the flesh hard enough to leave bruises. you moan brokenly, and he smirks, thrusting up with sharp, brutal snaps of his hips. each thrust sends squelching, messy sounds echoing in the room, your arousal spraying out, slicking his abs and thighs. you’re a mess, head lolling against his shoulder as the filthy noises fill your ears, lewd and obscene.

“thereee we go, brat… ‘m right here,” he drawls, one hand pressing down on the bulge in your lower stomach, making you sob. his thrusts grow rougher, inhuman, skin slapping against skin as the couch creaks under the weight of his assault. every time he drives into you, your juices squelch and spray, drenching both of you in a mix of sweat and slick.

“imagine what your friends would think of you,” he growls, voice thick with lust, “getting fucked like a dirty little slut by a demon.” his words make you whimper, panic flashing in your mind at the thought of being caught. but it only fuels him, watching your pathetic, broken reactions as his cock slams relentlessly against your cervix.

then, you feel something warm and slimy flick over your clit, making your eyes snap open. you look down, horrified and aroused, to see a mouth on his stomach, tongue lapping hungrily at your swollen nub. you sob, grinding your hips down, desperate for any kind of release as his mouth devours your sensitive bud.

his cock throbs as he nears his climax, driven crazy by your whimpers and the way your walls cling to him, squeezing him tighter with every thrust. his pace becomes erratic, desperate, hips snapping up harder and faster, both of you teetering on the edge. “fuckkk,” he groans, voice rough, his brow furrowing as he loses control, thrusting sloppily as he chases his own release.

with one last brutal thrust, he spills hot and thick inside you, his cum flooding your insides, filling you up as you shudder and release with him. your essence sprays out, slicking his stomach and thighs, a messy mix of cum and arousal coating everything. his stomach tongue laps up every bit of you, greedily sucking up the slick mess. your body goes limp, utterly spent, as your head falls to his chest, lulled by the rhythm of his heartbeat and the warm stickiness between your thighs.

without a word, you two stay exactly where you are, not moving an inch as you keep clenching around his shaft. his fingers idly play with your hair, lulling you toward sleep when—

“what the fuck is going on?”

your eyes fly open, and you turn to see your friends standing in the living room, eyes wide and mouths hanging open as they stare at the two of you.

how in the hell are you going to explain this…

[whirlybirbs]

— MOONBEAM ; SANEMI ; 実弥

summary: you & shinazugawa have a score to settle, but you never did agree on the stakes, did you? pairing: sanemi shinazugawa / f!reader ; retired hashira word count: 4.7k tags: rated t+, mutual pining, drinking games, romanticization of everything in sight, sun and moon tropes, reader is a hashira, reader is missing her arm, cool prosthetics are my shit, sanemi can be nice when he wants, sanemi has no idea how to be touched, ranging hashira appearances for comedic impact a/n: i love this eyebrow-less fuck. let him be kissed. and pegged, probably.

"Another round."

Someone is going to die tonight. 

Someone is definitely going to die tonight, and no one even seems remotely concerned aside from Tanjiro Kamado, the designated sake pourer. 

H-He shouldn't even be here! 

Wrong place, wrong time, but Mr. Shinazugawa might kill him if he said no to the barked order of fetching sake for the drinking game. 

I mean — sure, sure. You're both Hashiras. Or, well, you were a Hashira. The Light Hashira. The Light Hashira who was forcefully retired as of last year due to losing your right arm facing down an Upper Moon. 

The entire room is packed with fellow rank-and-file members, and with each downed glass of sake, there's a raucous roar of cheers. 

Sanemi Shinazugawa thought this was going to be an easy win. 

After all, you're little Miss Perfect. Delicate and polite and demure, and always so well-mannered, and oh so soft-spoken. 

You may be retired, but you still serve the Demon Slayer Corp, working to rehab injuries just like your own. Your estate is the secondary stop after the Butterfly Mansion for many members who have lost limbs — your prosthetics are state-of-the-art. The custom, mobility aids have changed the lives of men and women who thought they'd never bounce back.

It's beautiful, really.

Just like you, Sanemi laments.

Your silver kimono is faultlessly pressed; the wisteria blossoms embroidered into your obi glimmer in the lantern light of the dining hall. That wisteria hairpin keeping your hair up and out of your face makes his stomach churn. He wants to yank it out of your hair and throw it across the room. He wants to see you... undone. Any less perfect than usual.

It's driving him insane.

You're on your fifth cup of sake. You hold the bottom, tilt it back, and finish it with a slow, thankful nod directed toward Tanjiro. The ceramic prosthetic of your right arm tinkers gently against the cup. Delicate. Poised. Perfect.

Sanemi's lip snarls.

"Oh come on—"

"Another round, if you would, Mr. Kamado."

You slip Sanemi a leveled look through heavy lashes. 

The Wind Hashira is drunk. There's no denying it. You can see the hot flush creeping up his chest, peeking out from the top of his undone uniform. There are his scars, and then there is a flush. It's cute. 

He's always been cute.

More than cute, recently. Handsome. Insufferable in every single way possible, but handsome. 

Rumor has it he's quite the gentleman, too, if you believe the girls over at the Butterfly Mansion. The youngest three seem partial to him — hailing him with an unbridled sense of respect (and infatuation).

"You've gotta be kidding me," he grits out as he runs a calloused palm down his face; he's sweating. He's hot. It's hot in here. Maybe it's the sake. Whatever. Sanemi lets out an exhausted sigh, "There's no way." 

There's a little crack — a tiny, sliver of a crack in your usual placid composure. Sanemi swears he sees a smirk. It's gone before his hazy vision can memorize it. 

"Shinazugawa," you breathe as Tanjiro worriedly pours another cup of sake for you both; your voice is punctuated with repose that dares to lightly mock, "Are you saying you can't continue?"

There's an edge to your voice — a slight slur. The only indication that you have been keeping up, drink-to-drink with him. 

The room coos a goading little cheer. They egg him on. 

Sanemi's eyes narrow dangerously. His eyelashes are quite pretty, you muse. The whole of him is. Scarred and rugged and always so tough...

"Oh, please. You think I'm going to tap out?" he shirks, slamming back the freshly poured sake with reckless abandon. Best to go fast. If he slows down, it's all going to catch up to him. That's five. You're both tied, "I'm not losing to you." 

Your cup pauses, right about to meet painted lips. There's the smirk again. Then:

"Break it up! Curfew started ten minutes ago!" 

You recognize it as Obanai's voice. 

Sanemi's eyes flick to your face, then to the door beyond the gaggle of swordsmen and Kakushi. You're pouting. The interruption has brought a wave of groans and chattered disappointment. 

Sanemi grits his jaw. You mirror his expression.

He wasn't done. 

You weren't done. 

You both concede with scowls on your face. 

No one died. 

Which is great! 

Except that was before, and this is now. Tanjiro winces sharply at the escalating volume of Mr. Shinazugawa's voice across the courtyard. 

"Rematch!" he's shouting at you as you cross the courtyard; a picture of elegance and grace. You've got a large wooden box in your arms. No doubt the delivery of a new prosthetic. 

You glide across the gravel, head held high. 

Perfect. Even in this fuckin' heat. 

Sanemi's jacket is in the grass — every recruit around him is winded. Seems they've begun another training regime. The summer heat beats down your neck as you rake your eyes across his figure. You watch a bead of sweat run down his temple.

"Name the place, Shinazugawa," you throw his way flippantly; Tanjiro can see you're not afraid of Sanemi and it's confusing, "You'll have your rematch."

"Tonight. Same place. M' not loosin' this time, Lady Hashira." 

He hates your laugh. He hates how fucking pretty it is — how soft and light it is, like a bell, like a breeze against his skin. 

Fuck.

You're so pretty. So kind — so... fuckfuckfuck. 

Tanjiro is definitely going to die. Mr. Shinazugawa has never gone this hard on them before, like, ever. This is bad. This is so bad. A wooden sword strike rattles the bones in his hands, pain echoing up his wrists, as he blocks a whirlwind of frustrated attacks.

He's going to die.

Obanai figures this is exactly how this would go.

It is Sanemi after all. The Wind Hashira is worse than himself. At least he can talk to Mitsuri without acting like it was the world's biggest inconvenience... 

Sanemi is not exactly subtle. The pent-up frustration is—

Oh. 

Oh, you're into it. 

Sanemi misses it, but Obanai is watching the rematch from the far table — he was trying his best to mind his business as he eats. The Serpent Hashira can see the way your eyes linger on the Wind Hashira whenever he might not be looking. 

Sanemi tips his head back, as he downs his cup of sake. Obanai notices your gaze.

There's something heavy about the way you take Shinazugawa in. Something... adoring. 

Well, shit.

Tanjiro Kamado's voice wavers as he throws a leg over the bench and settles to sit beside Obanai. 

"Are you sure... this is allowed?" the auburn-haired swordsman laughs nervously as he clutches the designated sake refill bottle, "I mean curfew is soon—"

"Did I say you could sit here?"

Great.

He's going to die.

And this time it's Obanai's stare that's going to do it.

Giyu is the one to enforce the curfew that night. It ends the same. Five drinks even. Sanemi almost kills the Water Hashira, and you smirk as you gather yourself up and retire for the evening. 

Giyu doesn't get it.

"Why entertain this?" he asks the next morning, juggling the large order of birch wood in his arms; you'd asked for his help, and truth be told he was always partial to you. You were kind and easy to talk to. Giyu's voice is level, "He's a brute."

You have a large box in your arms — your second piece of the week. This time, a knee-jointed leg prosthetic made from boxwood. It's for that young swordsman, Hime. 

"I don't mind him," you offer lightly.

Giyu doesn't get it. 

"He's loud," he challenges.

"He has a nice voice," you muse back, falling in step with the Water Hashira.

"He's rude."

"He cares not what others think of him."

"Is that supposed to be a good thing?" Giyu shirks, his lip curling a bit in distaste.

"I think so," you softly reply, slipping Giyu a sly look, "I find it charming."

"Is that what this is about, then?" he asks suddenly, almost tripping over his own feet. The gravel beneath his feet crunches, "Finding him... charming?" 

"...And what if it is?"

Giyu really doesn't fucking get it. 

The Water Hashira is quiet for a long time after that, but the silence is comfortable. You don't mind it. It's just the sounds of summer along the path and the soft footfalls of their steps. 

Then:

"He likes red bean paste mochi," Giyu mutters, "Tanjiro told me."

The parcel lands on his lap. 

He's trying to meditate. He's trying to think about anything other than you — anything other than your smile, your laugh, the way you wear your hair, or the way you say his name. 

Irritation cracks his placid expression.

His lavender eyes are still shut. 

His lips curl into a snarl. "Do you mind?" 

"A little something," comes your soft voice; you're standing before him, your hands clasped in front of you. Oh so proper, "for our next rematch."

Sanemi's eyes fly open. 

The sun is like a halo around your silhouette. Framed by blue sky, it's like staring at an angel. You're so fucking beautiful, it feels like someone's rammed his very own nichirin right through his heart. 

He swallows roughly.

"...What is this?" he grovels hoarsely. 

Skepticism softens into a fading sense of annoyance. Sanemi's eyes flick downward, eyeing the meticulously wrapped parcel on his lap. The handkerchief around the bento is... yours. It's clearly a scrap from your old Haori. He'd know the pattern anywhere. In the dark, even. In his dreams, always.

"Red bean mochi," you say slowly, tilting your head; your voice is coaxing, "Is that not your favorite...?"

You swear his eyes widen a mile. 

What a pretty sight.

Sanemi's lip twitches. He's hesitant to reach out and even touch the box. "...Who told you?"

You shrug. Your expression is light and playful. "Would it matter?"

"I need to know who I should kill," he grits out.

"If you don't want it—"

Sanemi snatches the box up. You'll have to pry it from his cold, dead hands. Handmade, fresh red bean paste mochis? From you? He'd rather die than give this up. 

You wet your lips, the gesture an attempt to hide your growing grin. You drop your gaze and idly fiddle with a sleeve. 

There's a tense moment of silence. Then, his voice rumbles out like a summer thunderstorm:

"Tonight. Rematch."

"Same time?" you ask brightly, already beginning to walk backward down the path. 

Sanemi watches, his eyes glued to your face. "I'm going to win."

"You can try, Sanemi Shinazugawa."

You might lose.

You — ha! 

You might just lose. 

You decidedly blame Mitsuri and Shinobu. They're laughing — and pouring a lot more than poor Tanjiro did. You aren't even that angry about it, because Sanemi looks so damn proud of himself and it's adorable. 

Your tongue is loose. Your posture is slipping. 

Sanemi's never seen something hotter. 

He's going to suffer for this tomorrow — he knows that. He's on his seventh cup, his smirk mingling by the edge of the sake as you drop your head and giggle at something Mitsuri says. 

Your eyes find his. You look so... beautiful. 

The other Hashira have stolen their sips from the jug. Not that either of you mind. You're both locked in your own little game. The others have drifted out to the engawa, sitting in the warm summer evening air. 

Stolen glances between you both bleed into decidedly light banter. 

"You're slipping," he chirps; his expression betrays his words. He's gone soft, "Keep up."

You lean forward onto the table, chin propped up in your hand. You lazily finish the sake in your cup while raking your eyes across his chest and neck and shoulders and face. All of him. 

Openly.

"Haven't you heard the story of the tortoise and the hare, Shinazugawa?"

"Sanemi," he corrects as gently as a man like Sanemi can, ignoring the way his heart skips a beat when your smile cracks just a little bit wider, a little bit looser.

The ceramic cup tinkers against the wooden table as you place it down.

"Sanemi," you sigh back — testing the sound of it — and he wonders if this is some sort of dream. You let your head lull to the other side as you take another sip, "Right."

He lifts his drink to his lips. He hesitates for a second; you trace the line of his jaw with your eyes. 

"Thank you," he says suddenly — and your expression clouds with momentary confusion. That's how he knows you're drunk. You're usually so sharp, so fast. Your wit is like the crack of a whip. Sanemi clarifies before downing his seventh cup, "For the mochi."

Fucking hell.

That smile.

He's never seen someone so fuckin' beautiful before. Light Hashira be damned. You're an angel. You're the sort of woman men throw themselves on their swords for. He gets it. He'd rage a thousand wars if it meant a kiss. He'd even take a slap. Maybe a punch. Anything. 

Fuck. 

Make him bleed. 

You sway a bit as he places his empty cup down sharply. 

"Were they good?"

"Best I've ever had," he admits; he's being honest. 

You feel like you're in battle again. There's an adrenaline rush beneath your skin. Seeing him so... soft. Maybe the girls had a point. Maybe he is a gentleman when he wants to be. Sanemi is being sweet. Must be the sake. 

You let that lovely realization sit in your chest for a moment longer before dragging your eyes away from the Wind Hashira. 

Shinobu is nowhere to be found. 

Mitsuri has relieved herself from her role as designated inebriatior.

She's on the engawa, enjoying the breeze, fingers inching close to Obanai's. The other Hashira — Giyu and Rengoku and Tengen included — seem more interested in the stars hanging in the warm evening air than the competition beyond the open sliding doors.

He clears his throat. You draw your attention back to him.

He's been watching you.

"Do you concede?"

"No, not yet," you admit. Your chin is perched on your hand again, "I suppose I still have another drink in me." 

You watch as he moves, then. He stands and moves across the room to fetch the jug of sake perched by the door. You follow him with your eyes, tracing the line of his figure. He moves with less grace and with more carelessness. The jug swings from his fingers by the twine handle as he returns to your side.

He settles on his knees to your left. 

Sanemi's grin is devilish. Sharp. Handsome. His ashen hair falls in his eyes as he pours himself his next round. "Now, now, Lady Hashira, only one?"

He's so close, you can feel his breath on your neck. His voice makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

Shinazugawa leans, scarred knuckles hesitating to pour your eighth cup. His scarred brow quirks in a quiet challenge. He stills himself and waits for your reply, only to smirk when you lazily wave a porcelain hand his way. Go on. 

"Perhaps two with the way you pour," you bite, eyeing the conservative amount of sake that spills into your ceramic cup, "Trying to spare me a loss?"

"Mind your mouth," he warns, rattling the near-empty jug. He tosses his cup back easily before settling back on his haunches. He snaps the cup down on the table and exhales.

Sanemi feels exposed. Moving closer was a bold move.

It's the way you're looking at him.

He watches as a piece of hair falls from your meticulous up-do — undone by the heat and drink — and he feels his entire chest lurch with need.

You're smiling in that honeyed way as you take a slow sip of this round's cup. Your words are slow like molasses on your tongue. "...We never settled on the stakes of this bet, Shinazugawa."

Sanemi is staring at that piece of hair kissing your cheekbone. His expression is less intense than usual, but there's still a burn there. However, it is not rage nor ire. It's something else — something that you're too blind and sake-adled to name. 

"Your hairpin."

He answers it easily without pause or hesitation.

Your painted lips quirk as your eyes flash to his. He sees a question flash behind your eyes but you allow it to slip by, unasked. You watch him cross his wide arms over his chest as if to shield himself from any ill reaction.

Without a word, Sanemi watches you tug the long, silver hairpin from your hair. 

Fuck. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

He's never seen you like this before — never, not even in battle. Your hair tumbles free in mussed strands wanting to bend and bow in the humid summer air. 

Sanemi's mouth runs dry as you slip the metal pin between your fingers and offer it. Your eyes are heavy-lidded and you sway a bit as you hand it over.

"Does this mean I've won?" he croaks. His calloused fingers brush yours as he takes the pin into his hands. It's heavier than he anticipated. The intricate amythest wisteria ornaments tinker in his palm as he turns it over.

You tip the last sip of sake back down your throat. 

Then, you shake your head no. 

"Had you asked," you slip out, dotingly pouring him yet another cup; you mirror the action and fill your own, "I would have simply given it to you."

Sanemi swallows.

You watch him as you eye your ninth cup.

You're drunk. Very drunk. Drunk enough that you fail to see the slack-jawed awe sucker-punched across Sanemi's face.

"What will you ask of me, then?" he dares to utter, realizing that this game ended a long time ago — that this is no longer about winning. Maybe it was never about winning at all, Sanemi realizes rather suddenly, but he doesn't dare linger on the thought you may just enjoy his company. 

No one enjoys his company.

He is a bastard. He is a brute. He is horrible and crude and scathingly stubborn. He is not kind, well-spoken, or patient. He's none of the things he sees in you. He is ever bit your opposite — you are the light that breaks through the clouds, and he is the wind that bites.

The idea of drinking another cup of sake makes his head swim.

"...Truthfully? I had not thought that far."

Your voice is small. Sanemi watches the way your porcelain hand stills against the cup. The confession stirs those white-hot feelings in his chest again. He barks out a rough laugh that sounds more like a wheeze than anything.

Then, he pushes his cup across the table. Your eyes widen, and Sanemi is shocked to realize his pride allows him this.

He concedes.

He has his prize, after all. He tucks your hairpin into his jacket, in a pocket beside his heart, before rapping his knuckles upon the wood of the table. 

The Wind Hashira lacks his usual amount of grace as he stumbles to his feet. 

He bends like a birch in the wind, then pushes that strand of hair from your cheek.

"Think on it, then, Lady Hashira," he rasps, "You win."

Tanjiro isn't the only one who notices that Mr. Shinazugawa has been in a better mood lately. 

Training hasn't been nearly as disastrous. The Wind Hashira has even begun offering pointers rather than beaten-in instruction. The ashen-haired man has some sort of reason for being... gentler. It's almost as if his mind is elsewhere.

Obanai notices, which means Mitsuri pries it out of him, which means Shinobu is told over tea, which means Tengen hears about it from Rengoku who hears it from the three youngest Butterfly Mansion servants and proceeds to tell Tokito one evening in the onsen. 

The steam hangs heavy in the air, and Giyu's head is tipped back against the cool stone. 

Tokito, dipped low and deep to nearly his nose in the baths, listens with interest to Tengen babble on. The Sound Hashira is stumped.

"I mean, c'mon, I love him, but the guy is never in a good mood," Uzui mutters as he flicks at a drifting maple leaf atop the water, "And suddenly it's sunshine and rainbows?"

"Hardly," Tokito murmurs.

Rengoku wrinkles his nose and agrees with the Mist Hashira. "I do not believe sunshine and rainbows are within Shinazugawa's purview."

"I'm being hyperbolic," Tengen stresses.

Giyu sighs loudly.

The heads of those present turn towards him owlishly.

He doesn't even open his eyes as he speaks.

"It's her," he states plainly, "Our Lady Light Hashira."

And it is, isn't it?

It becomes painfully apparent.

Even Kagaya Ubuyashiki, whose eyes may not see as they once did, notices — he can feel the weight of something sweet in the air when he calls the Hashira together for a meeting in the early afternoon.

...It makes him smile.

A bird chirps and the sound of a breeze slips through the leaves in the courtyard. The sun is hot on the curve of your knee, beneath your kimono.

You are in the back of the room, hands folded neatly in your lap. 

Your hair hangs across your shoulders. 

Your eyes have not once left Sanemi's back.

He sits rigid and perfect, his nichirin laid before him. 

And then, as the meeting breaks, he dares turn his cheek. Lavender eyes connect with yours only for a second. Then, the room moves, but you stay there on that floor, watching him move gracefully as he sheathes his sword. His jacket parts and you spy the ornament of wisteria flash beneath his breast pocket. 

Your breath catches.

The others pretend not to see as he steps down from the engawa, turning his attention to you once more as he squints in the sun.

"Have you decided?" he asks.

"No," you reply softly, poised as usual.

Sanemi snorts through his nose like a bull; his words may be grating but his tone betrays it. "Fine then. Be indecisive."

The others pretend not to see his smile, nor the bashful way you duck your head as he retreats towards the grass where the recruits have gathered. 

But, Kagaya Ubuyashiki needs not to pretend.

He smiles.

He finds you in the garden, after dinner.

You've made a habit of walking the quiet paths in the evenings while the Ubuyashiki Mansion is quiet and calm. Here, while the sun slips away and the moon chases her kiss, you can linger among the wisteria and their weeping blooms. 

Your getas still upon the gravel.

"I've decided, I think."

Your voice is softer than the petals that drift through the air.

Sanemi, from behind the largest tree, steps into view.

His arms are crossed. He is without his nichirin. 

He ambles closer, his attention drifting to the sky seeped in reds and pinks and purples. The moon is full, and it spills out gilded light that makes your silver kimono glow. You look as if you belong here — among the beauty and calm and peace.

"Yea?" he rasps in reply, realizing you've turned on your heel to face him fully, "Go on then, Lady Hashira. I'm not a patient man. I've waited long enough."

His words lack any sort of real bite. 

(He would wait a thousand years more if it meant hearing you ask of him anything. He'd do it, too. Over and over, as many times as you ask. Anything. For you.)

You venture closer. His eyes are still turned to the sky and the wisteria petals that swirl like clouds.

You spy your hairpin.

Wordlessly, you reach for it.

His hand snatches your wrist and halts it — at first, the movement is rough. It's as if Sanemi forgets what a touch from another can be, what it's like. You exhale, and his calloused fingers loosen their hold. He sets his jaw, and his thumb ghosts along your wrist in silent apology.

Then, you smile.

And you slip your hand down and into his own. 

And, fucking shit, Sanemi doesn't know what the fuck to do with himself with you take one step closer. There's a small voice in the back of his mind telling him to fucking run, telling him to escape this fate — because he's already in too deep, isn't he? He's drowning, and now you're holding his hand. You're going to be the fucking death of him. 

"Is this," he swallows tightly, "What you decided on?"

Hand holding?

"Am I allowed to ask for more, Shinazugawa?"

"Sanemi," he corrects under his breath, his pupils bouncing from your eyes to your mouth. It isn't an answer. 

You take another step forward, and your smile is slow.

"Sanemi," you nod and rectify yourself as you look up at the Hashira, "Am I?"

He looks terrified — and then your porcelain palm touches his cheek.

"I told you," you swear his voice shakes as he turns his cheek and pulls away, "I am not a patient man—"

"A kiss."

Lavender eyes widen, and Sanemi swears he fuckin' dreamt it. 

There's a beat of apprehension — like you're both staring down the precipice. Like you're both one step from hurdling head-first into the crashing waves below. There's only one moment of it though, and it's long enough for both of your breaths to be stolen by the leap.

He knocks the wind out of you.

You suppose there's something poetic about that, him being the Wind Hashira and all.

At first, the kiss is rough. It's as if Sanemi forgets what a kiss from another can be, what it's like.

It's desperate, you realize, as Sanemi's calloused hands thread themselves to cradle your face. His teeth knock yours and his nose butts your own and you all but gasp as you stagger on your getas. It doesn't matter, because you're in his hold — and he won't let you fall. 

Not now, not ever.

One step backward, and then another. And another.

Your back meets the bark of the wisteria. 

The moon finally kisses the sun.

His chest heaves as his hand lands above your head, bracing himself over you. His other hand doesn't dare leave your cheek. It threatens to creep into your hair, to wind your further, to see you undone. 

When he pulls his eyes open, he realizes he has achieved it. 

Finally. Fucking finally. 

Your kimono has slipped further down your shoulder, your obi loosened by the act of being pinned to the tree. Your hair is mussed, your lips parted and near bruised. 

To Sanemi, you're more perfect than you've ever looked like this.

He kisses you again.

And this time, it's nearly chaste.

You sigh into the kiss, and your fingers shake as they come to settle over the patch of bare, scarred skin on his chest. 

His lips are nimble and the pad of his thumb traces the curve of your cheek. It's a gentleness you never thought possible of Sanemi Shinazugawa. You never expected it. 

He is like the wind, then.

Biting and harsh, or soft and beautiful.

You kiss him for a long time, there, beneath the wisterias in the growing dark — like teenagers, like these were moments you were never afforded. There are hardly any words shared, only breathless little laughs between bitten lips and wandering hands. 

It's when the lanterns are lit that Sanemi finally pulls himself away.

You're smiling — and you're a mess.

Soft and disheveled and twining your fingers with his.

That's when someone's voice cuts across the courtyard, calling for curfew.

[clarkeybabey]

Hi! This is my first time requesting anything so I hope I'm doing this right, was wondering if u could do some george hcs of being his gf while he plays in the charity match? Thank you xx

thank you so much for the request!! I hope you enjoy:)))), a bit suggestive at the end..... more coming soon;)

poor baby is so nervous in the weeks leading up to it

"i would've rather them ask me the day of." "you wouldn't have been prepared." "I genuinely couldn't care less about preparation; the suspense is killing me."

He's dialled in every second, whether that be the sidemen Instagram or the whatsapp group chat

"you do know they've already announced you, right?" "yes, darling, but what if they change their mind or something???"

and you better believe when the fellas streamed discussing the lineup, he had it, volume blasting, on your bedroom tv, knee bouncing.

"you're going to be riding that bench mate," "shut the fuck up, Christopher."

chris and arthur give him so much shit for how he's acting

"arthur, you weren't even invited. you're not a part of this!!!" "Bit harsh, mate, no?" "They're scared they'll hurt your ever-so-fragile ego if they don't invite you back." "alrighty then..."

practically begs them and you despite your plans with the other wags to let you be there on training day.

"she'll be well behaved, simon, i promise." "i don't think I'm the one they're worried about..." "we'll bring the leash just in case," "STOP FORCING THE PET PLAY NARRATIVE, GEORGE CLARKE."

he has an eye on you the entire day, introduces you to everyone you haven't met yet, and makes sure you see all the defending he does or the goals he makes. Clearly in search of much-needed validation

"is this your missus, clarkey?" "oh yeah, ginge, this is [name], my wife." scoffing, you hold up your ringless hand, "that's news to me."

"did you see that, holy shit," he says in a pile of limbs on the grass, "I did, yes, but lets not kill ourselves before you've even touched the pitch."

all of a sudden, the morning of match day, he wakes you up dressed in his Sidemen FC zip-up, feeling scarily indifferent about being in front of millions, playing with some of the biggest social media stars.

he kisses your cheek before stepping out for team breakfast. "are you sure you're okay?" two nights prior he was quite anxious about the crowd or disappointing anyone, but now he's just chill.

"im fine, baby, excited but im not freaking out anymore," he shrugs toying with his vlog camera settings, "Well, I've got breakfast with liv and sab in a bit, text me okay?"

You receive a kiss on the corner of your mouth, followed by a salute, and he's off

Throughout the time before the match, you're shooting him endless messages of encouragement and well-wishes, he's quick with thank you's and assurances that he's okay, just footie with his mates, he insists

The crowd erupts with screams during their walkouts, you're aware of the amount of support your friends and boyfriend receive on the internet, but the energy in the stadium seemed to be something otherworldly.

He was benched for a bit, but when he was out there, he made his presence known. Anxiety and pride are the only things you find yourself feeling

especially the ladder when he scored his goal, despite his doubts that he'd be able to do so.

Once the celebrations calm down, one of the girls speaks up, "Someone's getting it tonight," with wagging brows. you don't answer, but the irrepressible smirk on your face says everything you refuse to.

Before you know it, it's over. The match goes into penalties for the first time ever, unfortunately, Sidemen FC loses because of one missed penalty.

There are no hard feelings as 4.7 million pounds and counting was raised and split among three charities. Unless Chris, Deji, and Danny's bragging rights are brought up

You find him in the showers after most everyone's left to change and freshen up for the afterparty. He's a sight with his towel hanging low on his hips, seemingly typing up a text; it takes a lot of restraint not to jump on him right there.

your phone chimes with his notification, he smiles when he finds your eyes, "Don't go getting any ideas, i don't think i'd like to be banned from Wembley." you scoff, jokingly offended, "how dare you assume I'm thinking inappropriately, just wanted to see my man,"

"told you id meet you in the lobby. you're very impatient," simple words, his pretty eyes, and a hand squeezing your hip have all words dying on your tongue

They quickly return when his wet hair soaks both your neck and top. "George," you gasp, doing your best to put space between the two of you, not really caring when you fail and are lifted up onto the communal sinks, "Now whos getting ideas?"

[zorostitties]

Aurora; 1 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 5k

A/N: i made a post some days ago complaining that there weren't enough alucard fics on tumblr. because of that, a demon possessed me to write this story. i hope you'll like it so i can continue writing the next parts lmao ❤️ feedback is always MUCH appreciated! and, as usual, english is not my first language.

⤕  Masterlist ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

Before they gave you a name, they taught you the three simple rules for survival.

Don’t scream. Don’t cry. Don’t fight.

Those rules weren’t taught using words. You learned them as they were engraved on your skin, repeatedly. Night after night. Day after day. Teeth sinking on your neck sending shockwaves of pure pain through your body. Jaws so tight around your jugular that you couldn’t breathe anymore; made you desperately grasp for air in vain. The suction noise. You hated that noise. It was coming from you. The liquid dripping from your wound, warm and sticky, gluing your dress to your skin. The smell of iron. Pain pain pain pain pain. The intense headache that followed. The darkened vision, the dizziness. Your limbs losing all of their strength.

Then - pitch black unconsciousness.

You might’ve fought the first time it happened… or the first times. It is hard to remember. You struggled. You tried to push her away. You tried to punch her, claw her face, pull her hair. And that’s when you learned the don’t fight rule. Every time you put up some sort of resistance, she’d crush you with ten times more strength. You learned, very quickly, that having your blood sucked off wasn’t the worst she or her servants could do. You learned it after broken bones and pierced organs. You learned it after ripped teeth and hair.

You learned that she took pleasure in it.

She liked to see tears streaming down your face. She rejoiced every time you begged her to just let you die.

So, you learned. Don’t scream. Don’t cry.

If you stood still, if you offered no resistance, if you just let her have her way - it would be over quicker. You learned that your blood was valuable to her. You learned that not many things were valuable to her… but your blood, for some reason, was - even though you’d see her feeding from other girls as well.

However, you also learned that all these other victims would simply die after she fed off them. Not only her victims; the members of her entourage’s victims as well. They’d get pale and lifeless very quickly. They’d get thrown away after they stopped moving, their cheeks hollow and eyes rolled back.

You learned that you weren’t like them. For some reason, you always woke up the next day as if nothing happened. Cheeks still full. Skin still colored. Heart still beating.

Perhaps… perhaps that’s what made you valuable.

So you behaved.

They gave you a bed after a while. She realized that your blood tasted better if you were well fed, so the meals got more elaborate over time. She started complimenting you. She’d make you wear the most beautiful gowns. She’d make you sit by her side, silently, as she held her numerous balls. Her guests - her subjects - would bow after her, pledge loyalty, kiss her feet. Sometimes she accepted their words. Sometimes she killed them on the spot.

You’d sit there for hours, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Her abnormally tall figure projected a shadow over you. The sound of her voice made your skin crawl. Her smell made you want to vomit.

Still, you’d behave.

She’d turn to you after she was bored of talking or sick of feeding from other girls. Her hands were bigger than anyone you’ve ever seen; her claws, as sharp as an eagle’s. Her grip on you seemed to weigh tons.

With somewhat delicacy, she touched the necklace they made you wear that night. A huge ruby stone sitting over your collarbones.

“Ruby,” she said almost in a purr. “The same color of your delicious blood.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

“It sounds like a fitting name, My Queen.” The woman that never left her side commented. Her most loyal servant.

She chuckled, passing the tip of her tongue on her fangs.

“Indeed.”

That night, they gave you a name.

Jaw tightened around your jugular. No air. Pain pain pain pain pain. You didn’t fight back. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears falling silently down your cheeks. Headache. Dizziness.

And then - darkness.

“My sister, the moon, burns brightly tonight. She’s very excited, of course.”

The full moon, indeed, lightened the entire scenery, painting it in a gorgeous silver color. It reflected on Erszebet’s golden armor with a hauntingly beautiful glow. A soft breeze played with her white skirt as she gesticulated in her speech. She sounded tired, a calculated tone of hatred in her voice, as she explained in detail the revenge she’d take on her “father”, Amun-Ra.

You scanned the new place with your eyes. A vast garden expanded ahead. What did Drolta say…? Oh, yes. France was the name of the country you’ve arrived after weeks of travel. Although the night was chilly, it was still much warmer than Erzsebet’s home, which was always covered in meters of snow. At least thirty cloaked vampires waited in line for their Messiah’s arrival, being leaded by Drolta, of course.

In the moments your brain was working with somewhat lucidity, you heard conversations about some revolution. It was hard to make much sense of what they meant exactly, for anytime they had “important” conversations with you around, you’d be usually with an open wound on your neck trying to fight the overwhelming weakness and pain. They had the care to not let you be near while you were fully conscious. During the day as most of the Messiah’s court (and herself) slept, you were locked in your quarters. You were allowed to walk out only when Erzsebet needed to feed.

You didn’t understand exactly what they meant by that - in fact, you didn’t understand much of anything at all. You didn’t know why these vampires considered Erzsebet their queen; you didn’t understand why she considered herself a queen - no, she considered herself a goddess. You didn’t know what they meant by “crushing the revolution”, and you didn’t understand what you were doing in France.

Most importantly - you didn’t understand exactly what was their interest in you.

The obvious part: you seemed to be Erzsebet’s infinite source of blood and court jester, as the fact that she could break you in every way and you’d still wake up as if nothing happened the next morning entertained her. However… she didn’t need you. The Vampire Messiah had girls being fed to her daily. It’s not as if she was going through a blood shortage anytime soon. And… it seemed that she also had immense pleasure in simply killing - something she could not achieve with you.

So why keep you around? Why keep you locked with guards holding you at all times? Why drag you along anywhere she went?

There weren’t many moments in which your mind was clear - and in those small moments, such questions screamed in your mind relentlessly. Just… just why?

Why is any of this happening?

Your mind snapped back to reality the moment you heard a new strange sound. You lifted your head to see a big golden cage being brought closer to Erzsebet.

A frightened young girl locked inside it.

The sight didn’t shock you. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel a sting of sadness.

“Daughter of a revolutionary deputy. Member of the Jacobin club.” Drolta introduced maliciously as she opened the cage with the help of her clutch. A servant dragged the brown haired girl out of the cage. You watched in solemn silence as Erzsebet floated out of her chariot.

For a moment, the girl made eye contact with you. She immediately recognized your human features. Maybe, for a split second, she might’ve found some comfort in your image, finally seeing someone like her. Her eyes begged for an explanation; begged for help.

But there was nothing you could do.

You looked down again, not wanting to see Erzsebet sinking her fangs in the young girl’s neck. Silently, you apologized for being somewhat relieved that she was there. Erszebet would leave you alone until she got satisfied of her new victim.

As the sound of her strangled whimpers filled the area, Drolta approached you.

You never got used to it - how vampires could move unnervingly fast. You had barely realized she was standing by your side when you felt her hands hold your waist on both sides, taking you off the horse back as if you were a toddler, and putting you on your feet.

She smirked.

Goosebumps crawled your skin.

Erszebet was cruel, irritating, violent and loud. You knew that very well. Yet… perhaps the fact that you knew she was incapable of actually killing you made you somewhat anesthetized of her presence.

Drolta, however, actually scared you.

She wasn’t loud or reckless, she didn’t act on her instincts like her master. No… she was calculated. It seemed that her eyes were always over everything, like she knew what anyone would do before they even moved. There was something truly ominous deep within her pink eyes. Much smarter than Erszebet. In a way, much crueler.

She caressed your cheek with the back of her fingers.

“Rejoice, Ruby. You have a very important task ahead of you.” She said in what sounded like a purr before dragging you towards a carriage.

Oh.

You… actually knew what she meant already. A memory from not long ago - or was it long ago? - came; the last time you were required to do this… task. And once more, you hated the fact that your memory was so weak, how you couldn’t recall things that should be important, should be essential. Deep down, you knew your real name wasn’t “Ruby”. You knew you might’ve had a past… maybe even a family. Yet, any time you tried to tap on these memories, nothing came. Just frustrating emptiness.

There was actually a third reason for Erzsebet to keep you around and close. A valid reason.

And it filled you with unfathomable remorse.

The chateau was a magnificent place.

You didn’t have time to explore any of it, of course – you were immediately dragged into a room as soon as the entourage arrived, mere hours before sunrise. Still, you had time to see the exquisite gardens that decorated the entrance, the river that seemed to isolate it from the rest of the world. The interior of the chateau was just as mesmerizing. Opulence radiated from every corner, with golden arabesques and crystal chandeliers.

Your room was no less impressive. The bed, big and comfortable; it was a relief to sleep on a soft surface after weeks of uncomfortable travel. The towering windows faced the back gardens and the reflective pools of the water fountains. It was even equipped with a marble bathtub.

Nothing but a golden cage. You were locked in. Two guards stood outside the doors at all times. The door only opened to deliver food three times a day and to clean the latrine.

It was… tranquil.

It had been two… three…? days since you arrived. You couldn’t be sure. In the meantime, your presence was not requested – which made you question if that same poor girl was still alive or if they’d found someone else to entertain Erzsebet. It was a relief. Truly. You didn’t have many opportunities to stay awake and sane for such a long period.

You heard music and voices coming from downstairs, meaning they had a ball at some point. From the peek of the curtains, you saw that the chateau always very busy at night. Yes, it was tranquil – but all that movement filled you with constant apprehension. A strange heaviness in your gut that didn’t let you have a peaceful sleep. Something was going to happen. Something big.

The awful feeling in your gut only got worse when, in the middle of the night, a handful of maids entered your room without warning.

They washed you without any care. They perfumed your body. They brushed and styled your hair with intricate braids that curled at the top of your head in somewhat of a bun. They applied rouge to your lips. They dressed you in a jaw-dropping, beautiful blue gown; as dark as the night sky, embroidered with silver silk lines that seemed to imitate stars peppering around the skirt. The corset was tight but not uncomfortable. It was actually a much lighter dress than the ones you used to wear back at Erzsebet’s country, given how much more pleasant the temperature in France was.

Erzsebet loved luxury. She loved jewels, diamonds, gold, beautiful dresses; she did not allow anyone to appear anything but perfect anywhere near her, as ugliness displeased her eyes. She loved the theatrics of it. That is why, as you looked at the absolutely gorgeous image of yourself in the mirror, the only thing you felt was disgust. Perfectly well put, devoid of any personality trait. Just the way Her Magnificence liked it.

And that… that fucking ruby necklace sitting over your collarbones. It seemed to burn your skin. She demanded you to always wear it.

Your personal collar.

That morning, Drolta herself came to escort you.

The woman wore a black gown made of what looked like leather. You saw her reflection on the mirror and shivered, not having noticed she had entered the room at all.

That same vicious smile adorned her features. She stepped closer, putting her hands over your shoulders, and looked straight to your eyes through the mirror.

“Beautiful as always, Ruby.” You hated that name. You hated the way she said it. Almost a mockery. “You know what you have to do, right?”

You gulped and nodded as your suspicions were confirmed. Drolta rolled her eyes.

“Did you unlearn how to speak? It has been ages since I last heard the sound of your voice.” But she didn’t give you time to answer, dragging you out of the room by the arm instead. The two cloaked guards followed shortly. “You should be proud of yourself, Ruby. Being able to help Her Magnificence is the greatest honor of all. You do know you are the only human she allows in her court, right?”

Oh, what a great honor. You felt your fingers beginning to shake as you approached the ceremonies hall, hearing the sound of multiple voices fast approaching.

It was, indeed, crowded.

The curtains covered all of the windows, since it was early in the morning; the sun reigned in the sky. Some vampires wore the typical black cloaks and some wore aristocratic attires. Quiet conversation filled the great hall. There was an air of expectation and excitement. It only made your guts twist more.

Not many paid attention to your arrival – their queen kept their attention locked on her, standing near the guard rail on the double stairs. You recognized some faces from Erzsebet’s palace; some were completely new. A few sent you the usual looks of thirst upon the realization that you were human. You tried not to make eye contact with anyone.

However, your eyes locked with one of the new faces very briefly. A brown-skinned man, wearing a luxurious purple attire. His long black hair fell to right side of his face, adorning his beautiful features. His green eyes didn’t hold any thirst or malice like the others. He just looked… curious. Astute. You quickly averted your eyes somewhere else.

Just to spot another face – and this time, the sting of sadness in your heart came back.

It was… it was that girl from before.

She wore a white gown – but the collar of the corset was tainted with her own blood. She had very visible open wounds on both sides of her neck. Standing by the stairs, she barely had the strength to support her own weight; her once olive skin now looked unhealthily pale.

You gulped.

Watching her in that state was like seeing yourself. Except this girl was going to die. Very soon.

How was she still alive?

The vampire kept dragging you by the arm, seemingly not noticing your apparent shock. When you passed by the girl on your way up the stairs, she recognized you again – and, once more, sent you a gaze that seemed to scream for help.

That was worse than a punch in the gut.

Drolta made you stop some steps away from Erzsebet. The Vampire Messiah did not bother to look back at you; as you already knew, she was preparing herself to what was about to come. Behind you, an obelisk with inscriptions and engravings was placed. Another cloaked servant approached. He carried a heavy, ancient book on his hands; its cover was made of black old leather, and although it was fading away due to the book’s apparent antique, you could see the outline of an image of the moon on it.

Drolta took the book in her arms, opening it on a specific page, and handed it to you.

“It is time.” She said with a voice filled of pride. “Take your part on the rise of Her Magnificence, and you may have our eternal gratitude.”

You didn’t want their eternal gratitude.

But that’s not what made you hesitate.

After looking at the book, your fragile memories came back with more clarity. You… you did this ritual twice before. You couldn’t tell how long ago. After it was over, you were locked back to your cell as usual, you didn’t exactly see what happened next – but you didn’t really need to see anything to understand the gravity of what it caused.

Even inside your room, you remembered feeling the stench of rotten human flesh for days.

Just… how many people must’ve died?

At this point, you were resigned to being hurt. You didn’t really see any point in trying to escape the claws of those two supernaturally powerful vampires – it’d only bring you more pain. But one thing was getting hurt... another was getting others hurt because of you. You didn’t want to be the harbinger of death again. Whatever they were planning, you didn’t want to participate.

So you froze in place. Sweat dripped down your temples. Your heartbeat increased.

“What… what are you going to do?” you asked, mustering the courage to speak in a quiet voice.

Drolta wasn’t smiling anymore.

She stepped closer, towering over you. Her eyes burned with contempt and cruelty. She brought her lips close to your ear, not to draw unwanted attention.

“Horrible timing to decide to be brave, darling.” She hissed. “Do what you’re told or she’ll face the consequences.”

She grabbed your face by the cheeks and forced your head towards the stairs.

The girl in white stood there, watching everything with frightened eyes.

You gasped.

She had noticed.

Drolta chuckled.

“We know we can hurt you as we please, dear Ruby… but her? How much do you think she can handle?” You felt the warm press of her lips on your cheek. “Will you condemn her to a slow, horrid death in the name of your bravery?” She whispered, her voice dripping with mockery.

Your breath came shaky and difficult. The room seemed to blur for a second. You knew she wasn’t bluffing. She never did.

Slowly, you took the book from her hands.

Drolta released you with a satisfied grin. She patted the top of your head.

“Good girl.”

She stepped aside.

Your fingers were shaking. The book was heavy. It smelled of mold.

You sat down on the cool marble floor directly behind Erzsebet, the long skirt cascading around your body. You placed the book in front of you. The paper was yellowed and frail; it might rip off if you touched it. The pages had no images, only text handwritten in red ink.

You didn’t understand the words written. However, for some reason, you could read them clearly, although it sounded like nothing to you. You closed your eyes tightly, silently apologizing again for what you were about to do.

Erzsebet raised her head.

It was your sign.

You started to read the enchantment.

Your voice was nothing but a whisper. As the unknown words left your mouth, an already familiar feeling of disgust grew. You didn’t know what those words meant, but something deep within you – inside that darkened part of your brain where your memories must’ve been hidden – knew you were saying something blasphemous, hideous, something that went against your very nature.

Erzsebet seemed to fall into a trance when she heard those words. She inhaled them – the spell – as if they were smoke. Something as heavy as iron weighed over the hall, making all the spectators apprehensive. The tall, red-haired vampire started to gesticulate with wide, almost dance-like movements.

There was a crack in the air in front of her. Then, as she gesticulated, an orb of pure black and white energy materialized. The spectators gasped in awe.

Her movements became more frantic. The orb grew larger. You kept reading, feeling your throat going dry, your body getting weaker with each word. It’s as if Erzsebet was not only absorbing your words, but also your strength. Your eyes blurred with tears which you blinked rapidly to dissipate.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.

The eclipse started.

Slowly, a shadow made its way to cover the moon.

More gasps of awe.

Forgive me.

“Behold, the Devourer of Light!” Drolta announced with pride and admiration. Erzsebet laughed.

Please, forgive me. I’m sorry.

The curtains were dragged. The windows were opened with a gust of wind. The vampires rejoiced.

You gasped for air.

The enchantment was over. There was no more strength in your body.

You covered your face with your hand, not daring to raise your eyes and see the horde of vampires flying free through the windows. You didn’t pay attention to whomever took you back to your room and locked you there. You didn’t have enough energy to get up from the carpet.

For the first time in days, you closed your eyes and slept - hoping to never wake up again and face the horrors you helped unleash in the world.

There was something wrong.

You felt it in the air. A heavy tension. A strange silence.

That was not what you expected after the eclipse. Usually, what followed was a celebration of the conquer, a banquet filled with hundreds of victims upon whom the vampires feasted. Laughter, music, screams of agony, the horrible stench of blood and carcasses.

But now, it was… eerie.

With your body aching from sleeping on the floor, you glued your head to the door in hopes of getting a clue of what might’ve happened. All you heard were fast steps and shushed whispers. You noticed something was definitely wrong as hours went by and no one came to bring you breakfast.

Is it possible that Erzsebet’s plan – whatever it was – went wrong?

These thoughts churned in your mind as you took off the jewelry, undid the tight hairstyle and took off the under layers of skirt that made the dress puffier. Who could possibly go against Erzsebet or Drolta? At this point, your only memories were of being surrounded by vampires. The few humans you met didn’t last that long. You’ve been around them for long enough to understand that most vampires were only slightly stronger and faster than humans. It wasn’t easy or quick to become powerful – and the Vampire Messiah had some fairly powerful servants under her command. In fact, you didn’t think anyone could be more powerful than Drolta. Erzsebet could summon an eclipse, but she didn’t seem to be as experienced in battle as her right hand woman.

As far as your suspicions went, you could be sure that, unfortunately, the insufferable red-haired vampire wasn’t defeated. There were still guards outside your doors. Whatever happened, it wasn’t enough to stop her from accomplishing her… plan.

Sitting in front of the dressing table while you untied one of the braids in your head, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Without the rouge, the jewelry, the neat hairstyle. You were just a shell of a woman, really. Whenever you had enough time to really think about your life – in those brief moments when you weren’t in the brink of unconsciousness or fighting against the pain –, the only thing you could feel was… frustration. It wasn’t even sadness or hatred, only plain frustration. You knew there was something wrong with your head. You knew that immense void in your memory couldn’t be normal. Still, there was nothing you could do about it. They never gave you time to think, to maybe plan an escape strategy. But even if you did – how could you actually run away? You didn’t have the strength to face a vampire head on, even the “weak” ones. And you knew the types of punishment you’d be put through if you were caught.

You always healed, yes. But it didn’t make the pain less painful. Drolta could be very creative in her ways of ensuring your utter submission.

In the end, you were reminded of why you always chose to sleep through most of your sanity. While awake, you were constantly reminded of your current situation and your inability to change it. At least while you slept, you had… peace.

The clock on the wall hit noon. Your stomach was empty, yet you didn’t know if you wanted to eat.

That’s when you caught something with the corner of your eye.

It was quick and silent – barely a flap of wings. You turned your head in time to see a strange mass of black materializing in your room, passing through the breach of the window.

Your eyes widened. Your heart jumped.

That mass took the form of a man.

Your immediate feeling was fear. That was, very clearly, a vampire. His skin was pale as snow, just like his long hair, which cascaded over his broad shoulders. His eyes were hazel, almost golden; they seemed to glow faintly under the shadow cast over his face. He was tall. His attire was black from head to toe – boots, gloves, jacket, cape. He had a calm, yet ferocious expression – analytical, even – as his eyes locked onto yours. He held a long silver sword, its tip pointed directly at you.

The obvious threat in his position should frighten you even more. But that was not was you focused on.

Sunlight hit him through the windows, casting a halo on the back of his head. His hair shimmered with the glow of a million silver coins. It made him look… holy. Like the frescoes you had seen of the Christian God painted on the ceiling of a church Erzsebet once destroyed.

How… how could he…?

“You can come with me peacefully.” He said quietly. His voice was deep. Husky. He almost sounded… calm. But you wouldn’t let yourself be fooled by that; it was unyielding as stone. The stranger didn’t blink for a moment, his eyes tracking your every small movement like a tiger stalking its prey.

He was, in fact, not giving you a choice. The sword in his hand, unwavering and pointed at you, made that very clear.

Your breath got caught in your throat.

There were many things you could’ve said. You knew that man could and would hurt you if you moved too abruptly. Barely five seconds in his presence and you understood: like Drolta, he wasn’t one to bluff.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to feel more afraid, because as he spoke, you caught a glimpse of his fangs – and that other feeling grew stronger.

Curiosity.

“Y-You’re a vampire. How are you standing in the sunlight?” was all you could mutter in frightened amazement.

The stranger didn’t drop his threatening position, yet he tightened his eyes in a subtle sign of surprise. It seemed that your sudden question caught him off guard.

“Don’t you know who I am?” he asked, keeping the same tone. It was your turn to frown. You clasped your hands together, resting them over your legs, and shook your head. How and why would you know him?

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

He narrowed his eyes even more. It looked like he was searching for something, inspecting you with a new type of interest.

“I find it hard to believe that one of Erzsebet’s servants wouldn’t know of me by now.”

You gulped, tightening your own clasped hands.

“I… don’t know many things, sir.”

The stranger still watched you, in silence, for a few more seconds. It hit you in that moment the reason for his apparent confusion. He expected you to fight him.

Then, he straightened his position. You eyes widened with apprehension and shock when he let go of his long sword and it floated – the weapon stood with its hilt turned to the ceiling a few centimeters away from the floor, emitting an eerie metallic sound as it moved.

The man approached you. He was silent – so silent that, if you weren’t directly looking at him, you probably wouldn’t know someone was moving in the same room as you. As if he had dropped that ferocity, he sat down on the bed in front of you with a newly serene expression.

“I was rude in my approach. My apologies.” his voice mirrored the serenity of his face. “I am Alucard.”

Your breath got caught in your throat once more.

You didn’t know what was more shocking. His sudden change in behavior, his absolute calm while in enemy territory… or the fact that he was beautiful.

Again – you were more used to vampires than humans at this point. Every vampire had an uncanny beauty to them. They were attractive and scary at the same time. While you could see and sense very well that this man still represented danger… the “uncanny” aspect didn’t apply to him. He looked young (being a vampire, that didn’t mean much), a man of soft yet striking features.

Ethereal was the word you were looking for.

You noticed that he was paying attention if you were going to react to his name, which you didn’t. You also noticed that he was waiting for you to present yourself as well. Slow reactions. You weren’t used to talking.

“My name is…” your words trailed off.

For the first time, you averted your eyes from his, grabbing the blue fabric of your skirt in discomfort.

“They call me Ruby, sir.”

The man – Alucard – quirked one eyebrow slightly. “Is it not your real name?”

You sighed tiredly. “I don’t think so. No.”

Alucard hummed. His voice was so deep that it seemed to reverberate in your bones. He crossed his arms. “And do you have any idea of why I am here, Maybe-Ruby?”

The unexpected humorous way in which he called you caught you by surprise. Still, once more, you gulped, apprehension growing yet again.

“To… get revenge, I suppose?” The vampire looked genuinely confused for the first time. His quirked eyebrow was an unspoken question. It made you avoid his eyes once again, feeling a mix of anxiety and embarrassment. “For the eclipse.”

He went silent for some moments.

“Did you cause the eclipse?” You heard a sting of danger in his question that only made your heartbeat increase.

“I helped. Somehow.”

“Why?” He was growing more inquisitive.

“I didn’t have a choice, sir.” You blurted out nervously.

Alucard hummed yet again.

When he let out a tired sigh, you finally looked back at him.

“To answer my previous question,” he said as he got up from the bed. “I came here to kidnap you. But it looks like I’m saving you, as Erzsebet seems to be as much of a threat to you.”

You gasped, widened you eyes.

He… he wanted to take you out of here?

The anxiety made your fingers shake. You felt nervous, excited, hopeful… scared. Hell, were you scared. How in the world would this man take you out of here alive? Floating sword or not, did he even stand a chance against Drolta?

“However, I will need your help in return, Ruby,” Alucard continued, now looking back at the windows. “I see you don’t know many things, but I’d appreciate if you made some effort. Now, let’s go. I’m already abusing the opportunity my associate gave me…”

“Wait.”

You grabbed his wrist in a desperate move.

Alucard looked at your hands, then at you – once again, confused and shocked.

You were shaking.

“Thank you for your help, sir. You are very kind.” you managed to blurt out somehow. “B-But I don’t think Erzsebet will ever let me go. She… she has very powerful servants. One of them, Drolta… she will hunt me to the ends of the earth. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me, sir.”

You didn’t dare to look up at him.

Perhaps you were being too emotive. You barely knew this man at all; what proof did you have that he wasn’t as cruel as the vampires that were keeping you imprisoned? But at least – and for the first time you could remember – he was somewhat kind to you. He didn’t offend you, didn’t physically hurt you… and that alone was much more than anyone had offered for as long as you knew.

Maybe he could get out of here safely. He wouldn’t have Erzsebet and her entourage hunting him down. Maybe he still had a chance-

Your train of thought derailed the moment you heard his… chuckle.

Your heart jumped within your chest the moment he, with much delicacy, put his own gloved hand over yours and squeezed it reassuringly.

You finally looked up.

Alucard had a small smile on his lips. It wasn’t one of the mean, mocking smirks you were used to. The suspicion disappeared from his eyes, his eyebrows were not longer tense. He looked… gentle. More than that… there was a glint of humor in his eyes, as if he found the situation funny.

The sun that streamed through the windows seemed to shine even brighter, surrounding his entire figure in golden glow that matched his eyes. Yes, he looked holy. Otherworldly.

“I won’t get hurt,” he assured with tenderness. “And neither will you.”

Time itself seemed to stop at that moment.

He didn’t boast about being all-powerful. And you realized that he didn’t need to. Underneath his gentle eyes, you saw unwavering confidence; quiet, motionless and imposing like a mountain. In a way, it was much more menacing than any of Erzsebet’s scandalous actions or bloodbaths.

And for the first time, such menace wasn’t directed at you. It was on your favor.

That was your chance. The only real chance you ever got as far as your frail memory knew. A chance of living in a world where you didn’t have to follow the three survival rules.

Don’t fight. Don’t scream. Don’t cry.

But you wanted to fight. You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry.

You wanted to live.

So when Alucard offered his hand, you took it and got up from the chair.

You didn’t need to say anything. The silver-haired vampire nodded with satisfaction as his sword companion floated closer to him.

“Let’s go.”

Then, you followed Alucard towards the sun – towards the dawn of a new life.

[kaisturni]

pillow princess | c.sturniolo

→ chris x fem!reader

→ plot; traveling with the triplets, y/n usually shares the room with nick. in a sudden change of plans, she ends up sharing the room with chris. with the unexpected presence of one bed for the two to share, tension arises through the night when only inches separate them.

→ warnings; SHMUTTT, dom!chris, swearing, fingering, grinding, unprotected sex, cum eating, hair pulling, creampie, use of nicknames

→ a/n; this one has so much build up i didn’t even realize so sorry 😛 thank you to everyone who voted, hope you guys love it!

NOT PROOFREAD (sorry)

——————————————————————————

“that flight was terrible,” i groaned, the boys all nodding in agreement, everyone stretching their limbs every which way.

“honestly i just can’t wait to get to the hotel, anyway, i call sharing a room with matt,” nick says, as the four of us wait for your check bags to arrive.

“what! why?” i shoot a confused look at him, since nick and i are always the pair to share a room together, hell we have so many sleepovers, even sharing a bed isn’t a problem.

“because you fuckin snore, y/n,” nick states bluntly, i feel my face falling into offense.

“no i don’t!” “yes you do,” the three say in unison. i always hated when they did that. it’s creepy. but i’m confused at this sudden accusation, because nick has NEVER brought up anything about me snoring before.

i say my thoughts out loud “what are you talking about? even if i did, you sleep like a rock!” i retort.

“tonight is just NOT that night, besides we have to be up all day tomorrow to vlog AND film with sam and colby. besides, chris doesn’t mind your snoring anyway,” nick argues, chris shoots a cheesy smile and a thumbs up at me, i roll my eyes at the both of them realizing this is a losing battle.

“okay, whatever. just don’t keep me up all night,” i point a finger sharply at chris, since he’s always up until the break of dawn and even then has more energy than ive seen anyone have in the morning.

“noted.”

at least we’re not sharing a bed- i think to myself. not that it would necessarily be a problem, but for some reason he always made me so nervous. i dont want to admit it’s a crush, and i dont think sharing a bed with him would help with the aching nerves i get being around him. the thought of the circumstance makes me shudder. best just not to think about it.

✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

we all go to nick and matt’s room first, just to film some of the vlog. we all explore the room, opening every drawer and examining the snacks on the tv stand, and i admire how plush and soft the bedding is. at least i’ll sleep good on this tonight. chris seems to have the same idea as me, gripping on to the top part of one of the beds where it meets the headboard. i can’t help the thought of him doing the same thing but me beneath his body; the idea of it makes me squirm. i shake away the image as my ears tune back in to the conversations going on.

“that’s a really cool… deck!” chris exclaims,

“that’s a REALLY COOL DECK,” nick mocks him, eliciting giggles from both me and matt, and i almost forget for a second that this isn’t the room i’m staying in, and i try to keep the conversation going as long as possible.

after about 15 minutes of filming, matt hands the camera to nick, giving the outro for the evening.

“goodnight everyone, we’ll see you guys tomorrow when we go explore austin,” nick says to the camera, then shutting it off.

after our own collective goodnights, chris and i making our way down to our own space. i’m so exhausted i can’t even hear myself think. my eyes linger down the dim hallway to matt and nick’s room. i’m honestly still a bit bitter about the whole room situation, i make a mental note to scare the shit out nick at some point during filming with sam and colby to get back at him.

i unconsciously smile at the idea of it, not noticing chris looking back at me,

“what are you smiling about?” he says with a little giggle, i reconnect my brain to my actions, eyes widening at what he could be thinking about me stupidly smiling as he keys us in to the room,

“nothing, just thought of something funny earlier. it was a pretty cool deck,,,” i say in a sing- song voice mocking him, he rolls his eyes “yeah whatever, it wasn’t that funny,” he states, i do a mental cheer to myself that he didn’t catch on to me trying to unconditionally hide where my mind was going to after he said those words; to be fair i WASN’T smiling at the thought of us sharing a room, but considering how i had been acting about the whole thing, i’m not exactly sure how convincing my explanation was.

the door opens and he flicks on the lights, after my eyes adjust, both of us are met with a singular king bed, identical headboard facing the city of austin, i can see my eyes widen in the reflection of the window in front of us.

i feel my cheeks turn hot, and i can see chris out of the corner of my eye glancing at me, also keeping himself silent amidst our little… situation.

he breaks the awkward silence in the room by clearing his throat,

“gummy bears,” he starts, placing his bag on the plush white chair in the corner of the room, while i throw mind mindlessly on the floor trying my best not to think about the current situation

“i’ll be eating these tonight,”

“woah for free?” i say grabbing the bag from him, also making an effort to cut the awkwardness somehow still lingering in the air.

“no definitely for purchase,” he says walking around the room, “oh,” I throw the bag down, now uninterested in the snacks in front of me.

“what side do you like?” he asks, making himself comfortable right in the middle, arms stretched out on both sides, giving me a crooked smile.

cute.

“i prefer the left. but whatever side is fine,” i proclaim, doing my best to seem indifferent and not give him the impression that i’m going to be a pain to sleep with.

not like that, of course.

“good answer, i sleep on the right,” his smile doesn’t break as hops off the bed and rifles through his duffel bag,

“i’m gonna take a quick shower, won’t be long. put something on for us to watch,” i nod, and he disappears into the bathroom.

time passes as i’m left alone flicking through channels, eventually settling on a random movie i’m sure neither of us have seen before, this will do. i decide to find some pajamas of my own.

of course, my fucking luck and to my horror, i come up empty on a sleep bra AND shorts. i cant help but physically face palm myself at my lack of planning, but forgive me, i was anticipating on only nick seeing me in a lack of clothing.

i peel off the safety of the clothing i have on, and slip in to a separate thong and a t-shirt that is just barely covering my ass.

i’m so fucking stupid.

suddenly, the water shuts off and i race with myself to get back into my side of the bed to avoid chris seeing me and my shift in wardrobe.

he emerges from the bathroom, and i steal a glance at him, standing there with wet curls and his upper half still slick, highlighting all the muscles visible on his body.

the sight of him makes me heat up just to look at, and i cross my legs tightly to hopefully get rid of the aching between them, and flip my body around to face away, unaware to the fact that my ass is on display to him.

“no, no pants, huh?” i hear him let out a shaky breath from the other side of me, feeling my cheeks grow hot again, i make my best attempt to pull my shirt down and face him, beginning my ranted explanation.

“no yeah sorry i-i just was expecting to sleep with nick, this is what i usually wear i’m sor-“

he cuts off my rambling with a laugh,

“you’re fine, it just took me by surprise, that’s all. but you should probably move over, i think we should both go to sleep in a little,” he suggests, i can tell he’s being careful to not fully raise the covers, in order to avoid the exposure on my end.

i almost feel relief that he doesn’t care, but part of me wants him to care. to see him get hot and bothered by seeing me like that. but thankfully, yet unthankfully, this is a purely platonic sleeping arrangement.

“yeah, yeah you’re right,” i let out half heartedly, letting my eyes travel back to the scene on the tv, but i can’t help but peer out of the corner of my eye and notice how good he looks.

fuck.

his jaw tight in seeming concentration of the nonsense in front of us, hair messy from his shower, his chest slowly rising up down and rhythm and i almost let my eyes wander down his body to the waistband of his pants or even lower, but i don’t dare to allow myself the chance.

✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

my eyes shoot awake, and i prop my arms up to look at the clock a few feet away,

3:24am.

the tv is shut off, and chris is calmly sleeping beside me. i guess i had unknowingly fallen asleep at some point during the movie. i sigh and rub my face, beginning to make my attempt to fall back asleep again. suddenly, there’s a shift in the bed and i feel an arm snake across my hip and pull me closer.

i gasp and freeze at the contact, not daring to make a move. i feel chris’ hands squeeze at my hips, and a barely audible groan escapes his lips. my breath starts to pick up when i feel him harden against my ass.

i don’t know if i can take this. he isn’t even awake right now. he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

i quickly turn to face him,

“chris!” i whisper yell and shake his shoulder, with his hand still holding on to my nearly bare hip.

as he comes to consciousness, he deeply inhales and lets his eyes adjust to the darkness. realization hits him when he quickly removes his hand from me and darts up into a seated position. i can almost see him blushing despite the dark haze around us, the same feeling creeping upon myself for the nth time tonight as we sit in silence, which is quickly broken by his voice.

“shit, y/n, i-i’m sorry,” he begins, “i was just dreaming and, and i didn’t realize what i was doing I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he explains. my brows furrow slightly as i realize the context of his words.

“what was the dream?” i ask, my own curiosity getting the best of me, but the confidence in knowing he was most likely having some sort of sex dream about me makes the lustful side of myself take over.

his head tips back, i can tell he’s contemplating his next words.

“you. y/n. us. right now. i always thought you were pretty, but you looked so fucking hot earlier, like you’re literally half naked in the same bed as me. truthfully I’ve had feelings for you, and seeing you like that… it just made me want to fuck you,”

the last part of his statement is just barely above hearing level, and i’m honestly shocked at his confession. i didn’t think this would ever happen, that chris would ever see me in that way, but i got over that quickly.

i don’t know what came over me, but my actions and words only grew in seduction, and i was now determined to break him.

“sorry, i didn’t hear you, you wanted to what?” i crawl over and sit myself on his lap, placing my hands on his bare chest, and i feel his breathing and heart speed up.

“i want to fuck you, y/n,” he says in a single breath, and i take it as a sign to crash my lips into his.

the kiss is deep and sensual, his hands snaking down to my ass and squeezing, causing me to groan, and in response i grind myself onto him, feeling his dick grow hard beneath me.

the lack of material between us causes the wetness between my legs begins to rise quickly, and chris takes no time to comment on the state of my arousal.

“fuck y/n, i can already feel how wet you are,” he says between sloppy kisses, and one of his hands slaps my ass hard, the other gripping for dear life.

i gasp at his action, and his tongue fully enters my mouth, and i don’t bother trying to fight for dominance. all this new contact with him is already making me feel buzzed.

he flips us around so my back hits the bed, and i look up at him as he grips the headboard, our lips reconnecting in a matter of no time.

his hand gently tugs at my shirt, signaling he wants it off, and i inwardly smirk to myself knowing there’s nothing between my shirt and my bare body.

i swiftly remove it off my body, and even in the dim light he can see my chest, i purposefully squeeze them together causing him to bite his lip and move down to claim a nipple in his mouth.

i moan at the contact, he sucks hard at the sensitive bud, other hand snaking down to my panties, which i’m sure are now thoroughly soaked.

as if he read my mind, his fingers easily glide between my folds, and i whimper at the feeling.

“you’re so fucking wet—all for me, yeah?” he says lowly, those words coming out of his raise even more arousal in me, and the only thing i can do is nod and moan in response as he rubs my clit with his wet fingers.

he moves my black thong to the side, and i bite my lip in anticipation for his fingers to enter me, and he slowly inserts two, causing both of us to moan in harmony.

his lips rejoin mine, but the fast pumping of his long fingers inside me make it difficult to kiss him back.

i feel the knot building up in my stomach and i know an orgasm is approaching fast.

“c-chris, i’m gonna cum,” i breath out, shocked that i’m withering under my one of my best friend’s touch.

he hums at first, his pace slowly picking up, “cum for me pretty girl,” he purrs in my ear, i pant feeling the build up in my sensitive nerves release, him continuing to pump as i ride my high through his fingers, now covered in my own cum.

he brings his soaked fingers to his mouth, licking my juices off of his fingers,

“you taste so fucking good y/n,” he bring his hand down back to my folds, and i wince at the contact.

“suck,” he demands, bringing his fingers to my mouth, and i look him dead in the eye as my tongue swirls around his digits.

the eye contact pierced through me, and i let go of the grasp i have on his fingers with a pop, his lashes fluttering at the sound. chris’ lips meet mine again, and i hardly notice him removing his plaid pants, palming himself through his underwear and groaning into my mouth.

“is this okay? do you want to do this?” he asks, rubbing sweet circles on my inner thigh. how could i say no to him? we’re way beyond that.

i nod in affirmation, “more than okay, i want you, chris,”

chris smiles and swiftly pulls me to the edge of the bed, peeling away his last layer of clothing. his erection springs up, and i take a deep breath at just the sight of his size, tip leaking precum.

i instinctively spread my legs further for him, and he pumps himself a few times before aligning with my core, wetting himself between my folds.

he slowly pushes himself into me, and the sting of his size makes me hiss,

“i’ll go slow okay?”

i nod and close my eyes, and his forehead press against mine, pushing his dick further. i feel our hips meet and he pulls out almost all the way, before slamming into me.

fuck going slow.

i can’t control the loud moan that crawls from my lips, one from chris, “fuck,” follows soon after. his pace picks up; wet noises, skin slapping, and loud moans are the only sounds that fill the room.

he pulls himself out, and i prop myself on my elbows and give him a confused look,

“turn around,” chris grows, and i do without retaliation, sticking my ass far up in the air with my chest pressed against the mattress.

he wastes no time inserting himself back into me, going to his rhythm once again.

chris grips my hips so hard im sure they’ll be a purple hue in the morning, but that’s at the least of my concerns right now.

“god, you feel so good. you like bein a pillow princess, don’t you?” he huffs, continuously bringing our hips to meet at a pace faster than i think i can breathe.

the only way i can respond is through a muffled groan into the bunched up sheets, holding on as hard as i can.

he grabs my hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulls my head up,

“answer me. you like it, no- you love it, don’t you?”

“yes, i fucking love it chris!” i say as i gasp for oxygen, and he shoves my face back into the pillow, spewing praises and profanities into the air.

“i-i’m close baby, where should i cum? “chris says, his strokes becoming sloppier by the second, and i feel him twitch inside me, causing myself to clench around him.

“me too, shit, i-inside me, cum inside me,” i breath, way beyond fucked out to realize the consequences of those words.

with one last stroke, he releases inside me, and i feel myself become warm inside, both from him and my own cum painting his dick.

we simultaneously pant as he pulls out, and i flip myself over, feeling completely drunk off fucking him.

his body crashes down next to me, delivering sweet kisses to my face and lips, unlike his previous animalistic behavior just a few seconds ago.

“are you okay? how was that? did i hurt you?” he questions through pants, i giggle at the change in demeanor.

“i’m okay, it was perfect, and no you didn’t. i loved it, chris.” i say, running my hands gently through is slightly wet hair, some strands sticking to his forehead from the sex-sweat build up.

“i want to keep doing this,” chris starts

“me too-“

“but i want to be more,” the words leave his lips quickly, and his eyes focus between mine, analyzing my face, searching for a response.

“me too,” i state again, “but what are we going to tell nick? matt?” the idea of telling them didn’t cross my mind, but the anxiety of having to face them about that makes my heart race.

“we can keep it to ourselves— for right now,” the octave of his voice raising slightly at the end, posing his proposition almost as a question.

i smile and place a gentle kiss on his lips, “we can do that, but not for too long, okay,” i say after pulling away.

chris smiles warmly at me, “okay, but we should really go back to sleep. it’s 5:30,”

i almost get whiplash turning my head to look at the clock so fast, and i widen my eyes at how much time has passed.

“good idea,” i reply, shakily crawling back under the covers.

“you’re sleeping naked?” he questions.

“yes, is that a problem? you coming back here or not?” i raise my eyebrows at him,

chris shakes his head; “not at all, come lay on me,” he makes his way to his side and opens his arms for me, and i inch my way over into his warm grasp.

chris places a soft kiss on my forehead, and i can feel myself slowly drifting into sleep. i don’t think im going to scare the shit out of nick, my mind thinking of my previous vendetta against him; little does he know he did me a huge favor.

[prentissluvr]

three seconds — sam winchester

for : 200+ followers event [ closed ] ➖⟢ pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : fluff ➖⟢ cw : light swearing, accidental cuddling, casual mention of marriage between sam and reader (it's just dean teasing tho lol), idiots friends to lovers, kissing, barely edited ➖⟢ wc : 1.2K prompt : sleeping in the same bed, as they’d often do, but one morning waking up cuddling

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

to be truthful, this isn’t the first time you’ve woken up with yours and sam’s limbs entangled with each other’s. it’s just far less common for his hand to be so gloriously attached to your waist or his face to be tucked all sweet and warm into your neck. your own hands are placed in his hair and on his broad shoulder blade.

waking up like this is heaven; first, in the moments before you can process exactly what is happening, and second, once you realize and can bask in the splendor of having him so intimately close and vulnerable with you. then it comes crashing down as you remember that this isn’t quite how it’s supposed to be, and that you’ll never, not for a moment, be able to get this feeling out of your head, your body.

which means every moment after you untangle yourself from him will be full of a pure, undying, taunting want, maybe even need, to have him like that again. such a feeling is a general inconvenience as one considers that sam is your best friend, that he and his brother are just about all you have, and that you’d rather die than lose them to the fact that you’re in love with him. so clearly, it’s better he never knows, it’s just that constantly thinking about cuddling with him tends to lead to you making heart eyes at him or your cheeks flushing hot when he looks at you a moment too long.

then there’s the realization that sam is still asleep, the steady rhythm of his breath tickling your neck is both comforting and terrifying all at once. what if he wakes and jerks away, uncomfortable with your proximity? should you push him away before he even realizes the position you’re in? it’s not as if sam doesn’t enjoy physical affection; he pretends he doesn’t, but you’re convinced that he’s a cuddlebug at heart. maybe that’s an overly cute way of putting it, but you can feel how much he loves hugs, how much he enjoys having his head in your lap when you get a rare movie night. you’re just worried that this is too much, too close for even him.

and yet, you’re feeling selfish, because what if you never get him like this again? so you close your eyes again and just revel in the way it feels to have the tip of his nose pressed to your neck and his forehead against your jaw. his hands on you, so steady and sure in his sleep. his hair, soft between your fingers and the muscle of his back under your palm. his leg, tucked between yours. just the weight of him, pressed against you all solid and real and almost immovable until he wakes.

you hear dean stir a few feet away and you pray he won’t be able to tell you’re not asleep. breath even and eyes still gently closed, you hear dean move about, mumbling to himself. he’s digging around in a bag, pulling something out. then you feel him move closer and you swear he’s hovering at the foot of the bed.

then you hear a click, like that of a camera shutter, and you realize dean’s taken a picture of the two of you like this. pictures of the three of you are rarer, and dean being the one to take it means it’s special. you suppose blackmail is special in its own way and beg to no one that dean didn’t hear your breath hitch as you realize this moment is now immortalized by a picture that dean’ll print out someday and shove in your faces to make fun.

then dean’s mumbling to himself again, now close and loud enough for you to make out his words. “these two,” he sighs, tone practically chastising as if he sees something glaringly obvious, but the both of you can’t seem to quite get there. “i swear, the heart eyes from across the room, the longing gazes. god, they’ll be the death of me.” 

he really, truly thinks you’re asleep. he talks like this when he doesn’t know you can hear him. though usually not about you and sam, not like this. “they’re both such idiots. idiots in love,” he laughs humorlessly to himself, then turns away, stuffing the camera back in the bag he dug it out from. “maybe i should lock them in a closet,” he considers, voice so low you can barely catch his words, “see who caves first. then they’ll probably only thank me for that or the puke-inducingly cute photo once they’re married, those ungrateful asses. kids these days.” he lets out a huff of breath as he heads to the bathroom, seemingly done with his ranting about … about what? you and sam being in love with each other? what the hell was he saying, married? you and sam? you have to hold back from letting out a lovesick sigh.

you’re so caught up turning dean’s words over in your mind that only sam’s hand lightly squeezing your side brings you back to the present. your eyes shoot open and you pull your hand out of his hair. sam parts from you, barely. how long has he been awake? you’re almost too scared to look at sam, who hasn’t even attempted to untangle himself from you. he’s still got his hand on your waist and his leg tucked between yours and your eyes catch his without you meaning to. it’s always like that; your eyes will wander until they find his face, every time. it’s habit, instinct, unavoidable.

he looks at you long, and something about his pretty eyes turned green from the morning light and the color of the sheets keeps you holding his gaze, taking him in as he does you.

when sam finally speaks, his voice is hushed, but there’s this barely contained joy to it, begging to be released. “think we should save him the trouble?” the playfulness in his voice tugs at the corner of your lips. when he sounds happy, you can’t help but feel that way.

“of?” you ask, thinking you know what he means, but wanting to be sure.

“of locking us in a closet. sounds like a bit of a hassle, if you ask me,” he smiles at you, and his words plus the sight of his dimples has got you grinning without restraint. you wonder again how long sam was awake, but completely without apprehension this time. all the two of you needed was a few playful words exchanged, and now you know. though you wouldn’t have without dean’s unwittingly overheard grumbles, so you supposed you will have to thank him after all.

“i don’t know,” you say with a false air of careful thinking, “seems like it could be fun, y’know? it’s been too long since we’ve played a good trick on dean, don’t you think?”

sam doesn’t have an answer for that because he’s been too busy staring at the way your lips move, still pulled into a smile as you talk. you take another good look at him and wonder, how in the world did i miss it? the way he looks at me?

if he doesn’t kiss you within three seconds flat, you’ll do it yourself. it takes him those three seconds exactly, and you move in such synch it’s possible that your lips meet right in the perfect middle of the barely-there space between you.

[girl-lostconnection]

been thinking about the punk x nerd au w simon and ohhhhh my godddddddddd

what if he begins running and working out during highschool and he fills out and discovers himself a bit more — and is significantly more attractive — and nerd!reader is all over ittt, and they actually start to like each other and they get closer.

what if he also goes into the military in this au, after they’ve both graduated and she’s devastated — losing her bsf like that, but they see each other later in life when he’s on leave and she’s elated and confused because that can’t be him, right? not her simon? and whose scarf is that, barely peaking out of the collar of his jacket on this cold manchester day?

hmmm just what’s been stewing in my brain!

Anon, imma be honest, its like you know something that I don’t and I’m all here for it cause reader just watching as this awkward angry teen turns into bloody behemoth of a man…damn, anon. Give me 14 of these right now. Also I’ll write about second part of your ask since it’s a little further away in the future.

THANK YOU for this opportunity to talk about Unsweetened Lemonade AU Ghost coming home from military🌟

The Soldier

Warnings: plus size gn!reader, Simon is hungry for more than just food, fluff, slight suggestive themes

Simon comes back home and it’s like nothing changed at all (like he’s still 17) — same rooftops and same streets and same tight feeling in his chest — the remnant of the war he was going through even before enlisting.

It still stings sometimes, deep inside of him, barbed wire on the inside of his jawline.

Sometimes it still aches, but Simon is no longer lanky and awkward with sharp angles and no coordination and a whole lot of rage.

Simon goes into military and comes on the other side almost twice heavier than he was before. (Twice as dangerous, twice as deadly)

The bulk of muscle and a nice level of fat born from regular training and regular meals finally shows how much sense his long limbs and towering height make.

He doesn’t regret the decision one bit, for the most part. (He only regrets he couldn’t sneak you into the base as his emotional support person)

You write to him and he gobbles up your every letter with the same hunger he finished every bite you brought him back in highschool, with the same hunger he held onto you before leaving after enlistment.

Simon reads these letters again and again until the new one comes.

He gets dropped off in the neighbourhood where you live (mates laugh and smack his shoulder, joking about lad or lass that’s gonna be happy to see him, joking that he needs to bring the pretty thing around because they’ve been dying to know who are you).

The duffel bag is slinged over his shoulder, your scarf still wrapped around his neck and anticipation coiling in his belly.

It’s been a minute since you saw each other.

Since he saw you, since he could wrap himself in your warmth, nuzzle his face in the soft pudge of your tummy (god, he missed it so badly sometimes it felt like physical aching).

Simon has been hungry for more than your meals.

He shifts his weight from one leg to another, trying to warm up as he fumbles with the written address on the scrap of paper. It shouldn’t be far from where he is right now. Just a few minutes and then he’s home.

Just a few minutes and he’s gonna see you again.

Meanwhile you don’t really expect any visitors, flat is a bit of a hot mess in Simon��s old T-shirt, cookies baking in the oven — utensils all over kitchen table.

Simon wrote that he’s getting off on leave in a few days or so and you are stress cooking because god knows he always ate a lot and you don’t know how well he ate in military.

So you decide that’s better safe and sorry and start getting ready two days before he’s even supposed to be back in Manchester.

Imagine your surprise when someone knocks on your door — three short knocks, sound crisp clear when you freeze looking through the peephole because what the hell.

On your doorstep there is a mountain of a man, for the lack of better word, you frankly can’t even see his face since he stands too close to the door — black sweater and awfully familiar scarf peeking out of the collar of his jacket.

And you are so baffled you almost miss the familiar “Luv, open up, ‘ts me” from the man on your doorstep and maybe he’s got the wrong address and looking for someone else.

But you don’t manage to finish the thought before your body moves on its own and swings the door open.

Jesus Christ.

He’s even bigger when you are face to face with him, the need to crane your neck just to see dark eyes with adorably blond eyelashes certainly doesn’t help with how astounded you are.

“Can I help you?”, you aren’t sure what is going on or who is that but then the man scoffs in even more familiar way, pulling the scarf down and oh my god. It’s Simon. This is your Simon.

“Forgo’ me so quickly?”, he’d sound annoyed if he wasn’t so happy to see you, brown eyes soft with adoration. And before you can answer he’s taking a step inside your flat, closing the door behind him. It’s cold outside after all, surely you wouldn’t leave him out in the cold.

“Though’ I was special”, the rumble of his voice kicks the air out of you, eyes wide and face heating up quickly because Jesus Christ, he’s big.

Thighs thick and hips meaty, legs looking like he could crush your skull if he wanted to (lord have mercy, don’t think about it, no, you must stay focused).

He’s big and he smells good (why the hell he smells so good, it should be illegal, you will look like absolute creep sniffing him) and he’s looking at you like he can’t get enough of you. Like this reunion is even better than what he imagined.

God, you just might need to crawl into the freezer and sit there for a minute because you are too hot and he’s so fucking hot, what the hell, who is this man and what did they fucking feed him in military???

“Simon”, the first time is more of an exhale but then he nods, shaking his jacket off, duffel bag hitting the floor with dull thump and in the next moment you are all over him.

“Simon”, your hands wrapping around him (you are NOT gonna think that your two hands are not enough to close around his midriff) and face pressing to his chest — pectoral muscles cushioning against your cheek.

Oh, this is bliss. This is so good you just might forget about anything else.

You now know where you’d like to be buried.

In this man chest, please.

And Simon can’t help but hum, the sound low and pleased — his hands hoisting you up so he can get a grip on your thighs, fingers sinking into the meat of them and bloody hell, this is good.

This is fucking lovely.

He’d love to have his head between these thighs of yours.

As a matter of fact, could you maybe suffocate him with them so he can die happy (and hard as a rock)? Please?

But it can wait a little because you are finally in his hands, your arms wrapped now around his shoulders, eyes shining with absolute joy — looking at him like he’s everything. Like you are happy. Like you’ve been waiting for him.

He’s here. Simon is home.

Simon nuzzles his nose into your cheek, teeth itching to sink into the softness of it, itching to take a bite, itching to lick the blood off—

Ghost hoists you up a little higher because there’s no need for you to feel just how happy he is to see you. Not yet, at least.

“Yeah, luv, told ye, it’s me”, he murmurs, practically vibrating with satisfaction when your grip on him tightens.

Yeah, that’s right, don’t let go of him. Sink yourself into him just as he wants into you, taste the blood from his veins — it’s all yours anyway, he’s all yours.

Always been.

It takes him a few minutes to actually let you down, body immediately aching for the warmth and softness he’s been missing so badly.

But he can smell that you’ve been cooking something and if it’s okay with you he’s willing to sate his hunger with something more traditional.

Simon eats and keeps a close eye on you eating (can’t have you go hungry on him), passing the best bites back, pressing them against your lips — eyes half-lidded and heavy when your tongue accidentally flicks against the pads of his fingers.

Simon leaves the kitchen only when you both are full and sated, the button on his jeans popped open because well, maybe he was hungry for your meals too.

Can you really blame him? He’s been away so long, he just needs to catch up on everything he missed.

Simon pulls you onto the couch to tuck in to his side, mumbles something about “afternoon nap, luv”.

He is a lot like sated predator, all lazy grace and heavy bulk and heat rolling off in waves. Simon nuzzles his big head into your neck, palms holding onto the small of your back and your thigh, splayed over them possessively. Holding you close.

He’s out cold in the matter of minutes, finally relaxed and full and so warm. Finally with you. Not going anywhere, not leaving the side of his lovely sweetheart.

All yours, you just got to let him stay and protect you.

Just let him stay and love you, devour you, keep you warm and soft and round with happiness.

Just let him and he’s going to make sure you never regret it.

[ddejavvu]

There’s a saying you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy. Tyler Owens is usually the flirty one, sending flirty messages and smacking shy reader’s ass in public.

He about loses his control when he watches the normally shy reader make eye contact in a crowded room, put his hat on, and wink.

Wear the Hat - Tyler Owens x Reader

please send me tyler owens requests!

On your fifth shot of the night, you're inclined to agree with the moniker 'liquid courage'. It's filled you with bravery, the kind of stuff that makes your limbs loose and your dancing bold. Tyler is dancing with you which means that he's all you can think about, with your hazy one-track mind and his broad shoulders blocking everyone else out of view.

"Tyler," You gush, face-planting into his chest and probably leaving a glittery eyeshadow stain behind, "I love you."

"I love you too, darlin'." He laughs, perhaps a little more accustomed to liquor than you are, "You havin' a good time dancing?"

You'd typically shy away from the dance floor, more fond of sticking to the wall or the bar to avoid the spotlight. But tonight Tyler's whisked you right into the action, and you're having the time of your life trying to match his steps.

"I love dancing with you." You lean up to kiss him but you're a little off-target, landing somewhere between his bottom lip and the jut of his chin.

"Mm, thank you honey, I love dancing with you too," He laughs, cradling the back of your head so that he can fix your aim. He plants a real kiss on you, one that distracts you from your dancing enough to make you stumble. Thankfully, he catches you, and you giggle along with him as he sets you back on your feet.

"Thanks, handsome." You grin lazily up at him, and then your eyes zero in on the brim of his cowboy hat over his eyes.

"Gimme that," You grumble, reaching up to snatch it off of his head, "There's that saying- I wanna ride you."

You plop the hat unceremoniously onto your own head, hair flattening with the movement, but you can't bring yourself to care.

"Woah, cowgirl." Tyler's eyes go wide and he yanks the hat back, holding it captive so that you can't take it again, "You're drunker than hell. Do you even know what that means?"

"I said, I wanna ride you." You huff, "Like sex, Tyler?"

"Okay, just- just cool your jets, crazy." Tyler urges, whisking you away to the bar for a cooldown, "Let's have about three glasses of water, and then we can talk about ridin', alright?"

"Fine." You huff, letting Tyler seat you on a stool that he has to keep you balanced on, "But lemme wear the hat in the meantime. Don't wanna forget."

Tyler grins, looking down at his lopsided hat on your head, your face determined as you chug down sip after sip of water in an attempt to sober yourself up, "Oh, honey. I ain't ever forgettin' this."

[porcelainbirdss]

the wrong neighbor

summary: after losing your job, you figured a brief escape to the countryside might offer a semblance of peace — or at least a new outlook. alas fate, with its usual flair for wickedness, had other plans. it handed you a new challenge in the form of a neighbor so annoying, his entire existence felt like a joke at your expense.

cw: fem!reader, modern au, fluff, brief mentions of blood, alcohol consumption, slight enemies to lovers but honestly reader is just stubborn, so it’s kind of one-sided, relationship not established (but lovey-dovey still) || wc: 16k

you scrutinized the keys of your 'new' home, which now dangled on the carabiner — you glared down at them, as if their mere existence somehow managed to personally offend you.

there were three facts you could easily discern: you got fired from your job (and maybe it was for the better, because you hated it). the house on the countryside in which you were supposed to temporarily reside in surely looked like a ruin, and your suitcases were so over-stuffed, you barely managed to close them.

oh, and Bubbles was wailing so loudly in the carrier, you were already starting to feel bad for the cat. well, it’s not like you didn’t share its lament — if you could, you’d cry along with the pet.

unfortunately, your woes would have to be put aside now, because the sight of your new place started to steadily appear on the horizon. thank gods, you somehow managed to reach the countryside without your gas running so low you’d have to call for roadside assistance — or a worse scenario, with you pushing the car away from the uneven road.

as you parked beside the slightly crooked, wired fence, you began to wonder whether this whole charade really was a good idea. your decision to take rather long vacations in the countryside was made on a whim — upon losing your job, you descended on a downward spiral, ultimately thinking you definitely needed to reconnect with nature.

everything was going smoothly — you asked your parents for the keys, informed your friends of the upcoming departure (for how long, you weren’t sure), packed and got into your car as if it was the simplest course of action. only halfway through the rather long distance, as you finally drove into the mountainous area, a realization hit you — your knowledge was basically zero. nonexistent.

how do you even live on a countryside? are there necessities, or will you have to drive out into town for everything? how will you deal with the bugs, and the deep silence of night? is the house of your parents, which they bought so long ago, later on moving to the city, still intact? or maybe vandalized?

you were aware of the fact they kept on checking up on the place from time to time, but hey — that’s a village. what if there’s a big nest of wasps located somewhere by the balcony you briefly remember through the blurry memories of a young girl? or — or what if the water doesn’t run? or, since the village is practically hugged by the mountains, what if you stumble across a bear?!

well, you doubted that, because you had no plans of venturing into the forest — but still.

a huff of exasperation escaped your lips as you turned off the engine, quickly pocketing your carabiner and turning to see if Bubbles was alright — the cat seemed fine, now a little bit calmer, as if it sensed you finally reached the destination. you knew your pet wasn’t especially fond of road trips — same goes for you, so it was a relief to open the door of the vehicle, and step outside.

you stretched your slightly stiff limbs, thinking any longer in that car, and i’d go insane. surprisingly, the house looked fairly well-maintained. the lush grass was covered with weeds, and wildflowers, but nothing else was alarming enough to cause you distress. it was really fortunate, because you already had a plenty on your plate, and dealing with any damage would surely push you to have a breakdown in the middle of that sandy road.

with a new-found resolve, you opened the gate, wincing at the loud creak it made upon being moved for the first time in forever. you skipped over the cobblestone steps, unlocking the door — the space inside was covered in a thick layer of dust, but it matched what little you could recall from your childhood days, when your parents would take you to see the house.

they always said it would belong to you — and as a young girl, you never failed to cheer in response, excited to move in once you get older. well, you were all grown now, and upon retrospection, you don’t know what was so appealing to you about living in the countryside — not many opportunities, limited access to most shops or entertainments, vast fields and forests with nothing to do.

but it’s not like you’ll stay there forever, after all. you just came for a quick visit — two or three months, as long as your savings last you — april will pass, then may, and towards the end of june, when summer starts, you’ll be gone. yes, that’s definitely what you’ll do, so there’s no point in dwelling on how boring it could be. you came here to relax, and gather your disarrayed thoughts, not to seek for a new life-path.

once you were done inspecting the whole building, you stepped outside, mentally preparing yourself for the burden of tugging all of your suitcases inside, and then upstairs — a mere thought of that made your determination falter. as for Bubbles… perhaps it would be better to let the cat snooze in your car for now. you didn’t want the little critter to tangle between your feet as you fought with the baggage — anyway, the temperature outside was still low, so you wouldn’t have to worry about the cat overheating.

as you opened the car trunk, ready to wrestle with the weight of your luggage, a rather loud, but friendly voice snapped you out of your deep reverie.

you barely managed to hold back a frown.

"hey!" the man called, and you glanced up, your eyes meeting with two bright-blue hues, already crinkling in the corners as he beamed at you. "are you the owner of this house?"

what do you think?, you wanted to say, but decided it would be better to not make any enemies from the start. you were never too big on people — always keeping to yourself, secure in the small circle of friends you made while working at your former job. still, you weren’t in the city now, and you were completely on your own — so perhaps snarling at the stranger who greeted you with such a cordial expression would be a bad idea.

no matter that something about his overly-kind demeanor irked you.

you studied his rather tall frame, taking note of the slightly old-fashioned button-down shirt he wore, its sleeves rolled up above his elbows, exposing the muscular arms. seriously, was he crazy? if not for your jacket, you’d be freezing, your teeth chattering from the cold. "yeah, that’s me." you answered briefly, trying to force the corners of your lips upwards.

his smile only widened as he strolled closer to you, and you wondered what got him so excited. "oh, is that true?" he asked eagerly, allowing himself to lean on the side of your car, "i saw some people visiting the house, but it was so rare, i actually thought no one would ever move in."

"i’m not moving in," you corrected, trying not to grimace at how casual he was acting, "i’m on vacation. don’t plan on lingering for too long."

the man’s expression seemed to falter, just slightly. "really? such a pity, then. and here i was, thinking i got myself a neighbor." he chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest.

oh. he is your neighbor, it would seem. well, it is only logical looking at the way he suddenly emerged from gods know where — immediately jumping to your side, washing you over with questions and small-talk. still, the thought of having someone like him, as a person living next doors was… excruciating.

you let out a sigh, attempting to hold up your polite voice. "you live there?" you gestured with your head towards the building, internally hoping you were wrong.

"yes!" the man affirmed, outstretching his palm towards you, "by the way, i completely forgot to introduce myself. ah, where are my manners?" he laughed, a little abashedly now. "i’m Phainon."

great — just great. your place was a semi-detached house, so not only was he your neighbor, but he resided in a home practically glued to yours, a singular wall being the only thing that separated you.

you reached to shake his hand without much finesse, wincing at how strong his grip was. "[name]."

"[name]? a lovely name, then." Phainon chirped, bestowing you with the mercy of letting go. "well, i hope we can get along from now. maybe i’ll even convince you of staying here forever, who knows?" he joked, laughing again.

yeah, right. what else? maybe you’ll marry him, and take down the wall separating your houses? seriously, you tried to convince yourself he wasn’t that bad, but now he was genuinely getting on your already fragile nerves.

you reached towards the suitcase. "doubt that."

the man seemed to ignore your slightly irked tone, leaning forwards to look into your trunk. "do you want me to help you with all that? not to brag, but i’m pretty strong, and your stuff looks… well, heavy."

a shudder ran down your spine as his clear, still so friendly and unrelenting voice rang practically next to your ear. at this point, you could make a list consisting entirely of the things that annoyed you about your new neighbor: for one, he possessed an unbearably happy attitude. he was overly-casual, acting as if he knew you for his entire life. loud. said he doesn’t like to brag, but just did that — so a hypocrite.

"thanks, but i’ll manage just fine." you replied, grabbing the handle and tugging the suitcase out, trying not to show how much of a struggle it was.

Phainon blinked twice at your refusal, as if it was something he completely didn’t expect. his lips parted in confusion before he gathered himself, once again donning that wide smile. "oh, but how could i let my neighbor do that all by herself?" he mused, reaching for your baggage. damn those villagers, and their weird conviction of integrity — maybe you really should have just stayed in the city, bothering yourself with the search for a new job, instead of indulging in 'relaxation' time on the countryside. it was hardly worth it, at least as of now.

a grimace appeared on your face, knitting your eyebrows together. you didn’t care for containing it anymore. "i told you, i can do this myself." you muttered, finding an odd sense of insult in the man helping you out — you were capable enough, weren’t you?

you tugged the handle out of his fingers, and Phainon stepped back, the message finally getting through his seemingly thick skull. he cleared his throat awkwardly, chuckling under his breath as he pretended to look around, his bright irises avoiding yours. "oh, i’m— i’m sorry, [name]. didn’t mean to offend you."

with a roll of your eyes, you closed the trunk shut, starting to walk towards the entrance of your house. "bye." you said, audible enough for the man to hear, and leave you alone.

Phainon didn’t protest any further, scratching his nape with a conflicted expression before shrugging and deciding to go back home. at least now his happy-go-lucky demeanor wouldn’t bother you.

a long day of cleaning, and moving in your stuff was already over — you were elated to find out that you, indeed, still had hot water, and the stove was working, even though you had to use matches to get the gas going. Bubbles was a bit unsure at first, anxiously treading the space, but ultimately deemed the new place as good enough. you definitely had to agree with your cat — it wasn’t perfect, but the lull of a quiet road successfully managed to ease your frayed nerves.

in addition, Phainon didn’t step out once to offer any other unwanted help, so that was a plus too.

you fell onto the bed, stretching out your hurting limbs from working so hard — you were planning on going to sleep, but the balcony door seemed especially enticing, so perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to check it out as well. you dragged your feet over to the glass door, pushing it open, taking in the crisp air of night, gasping at how beautiful the sight of the mountains was — and then you saw it.

irritation washed over you the second you spotted a familiar silhouette, leaning on the railing of another balcony — right. you almost forgot the design of your houses was a mirror, the buildings being twins of themselves. you cursed under your breath, tucking your head down in hopes that your annoying neighbor failed to notice you — but before you could even move to walk back inside, he already waved your way, a wide smile stretching his lips.

"[name]! hi!" Phainon called, making your blood pressure skyrocket, "did you also want to get some fresh air before sleep?"

an overwhelming sense of déjà vu washed over you, as you itched to reply — what do you think?

you scoffed, your feet glued in place, even though you wanted nothing more than to shut the balcony door, swish the curtains, and lie in your bed. "no, i was actually planning on jumping out." you deadpanned.

the man’s features initially twisted into concern, but then he laughed, finally catching up on your sarcastic remark, which definitely wasn’t aimed to offend him, nor his wits anyhow, "oh, you better not. it’s a long way down from here." he said, moving to step closer to your own balcony.

almost as if that was the whole point. "well, yeah, i came here to take a breath, but now i have someone yapping behind my ear."

Phainon shrugged, appearing as if he didn’t take that as an insult, even if his wide smile was now reduced to a mere, weak smirk. "c’mon, i’m just trying to be nice here." he responded, craning his neck to look into your eyes, seemingly avoiding him as they stared into the black outline of the mountains. "you know, i don’t want to admonish you, because i believe we’re the same age—" he paused, "wait, how old are you again?"

"twenty-four."

that evoked an almost triumphant noise out of him. "see? i’m only two years older than you. so, as i was saying, i really, really, don’t want to admonish you, however…"

you sighed at Phainon’s lag, finally meeting his gaze. "however what?"

"you see," the man began, a bit reluctantly, "maybe it wouldn’t hurt you to be a little more friendlier? as far as i am concerned, you’re alone here. and so," he continued, prolonging the syllables of the words, "you have to be nice to people. if you keep glaring at everyone, then just imagine how that could backfire! no one around to help, no one to—"

must he always talk so much? it’s not that you were rude by nature, but his presence simply made you irritated. another thing to add to your list — he liked to force his beliefs on others, insisting he was so righteous. and he was a chatterbox.

"or maybe i just don’t find your company all that endearing, huh?" you interrupted his rant lazily, leaning your cheek over your palm. this conversation was starting to exhaust you much more than cleaning the entirety of your house.

Phainon breathed in, placing his hand over his chest, as if you genuinely managed to insult him. “mean! see? that’s exactly what i’m talking about." he huffed out, his eyebrows narrowing together.

you rolled your eyes, thinking that perhaps you truly were a little bit too unkind — but it’s not like you felt especially guilty about it, so you ignored the weak need of apology. "a grown man getting offended by something like that?" you mocked, shrugging. "i simply expressed my opinion. nothing personal."

his lips pressed into a tight line as he looked away from you, his line of vision locking on the rocky line of horizon. "you know, [name], you kind of remind me of someone." Phainon said, drumming his fingertips against his forearm.

you almost caught yourself asking — who?, but you held back, thinking the man was merely trying to pull at your tongue some more. without glancing back, you turned on your heel, starting to walk towards the door.

your movement seemed to snap Phainon out of his short stupor, "ah, you’re going already? see you then!" he called, though this time his voice wasn’t as upbeat as earlier.

"not if i see you first.” was all you replied with, shutting the balcony door with a loud 'thud!', and slipping off your flip-flops.

if you can’t even relax in your own house, then perhaps there was no rest for you in this place — you should start reconsidering your decision, and go back to the city.

——

go back to the city, you did not — one week passed since the moment you found yourself in this countryside, and even though your neighbor kept getting on your nerves, keeping you company during evenings on the balcony, offering you bottles of milk (which for some reason you didn’t get delivered), or waving friendly at you whenever you tended to your overgrown garden — you still stayed. maybe it was something in the air, or the vision of packing everything so soon and having to tug your suitcases back to your trunk was simply too much.

however, no matter how idyllic the time you had for yourself seemed (by which you meant — no Phainon in sight), some trouble came up. Bubbles was acting slightly off — it’s not like the cat was evidently sick, but its movements were slower than usually, and it made you worry. Bubbles was the ultimate highlight of your days, and you loved that animal terribly — so the second you noticed something was wrong, you called up the closest veterinary clinic.

a deep voice on the other side of the phone told you to come visit now — if you had the time, which you obviously possessed in ample amounts — so without further ado, you packed Bubbles into the carrier, and drove to the clinic. it took you some time to find it, which was surprising since you had the maps opened on your phone, and the village wasn’t overly big — but you miraculously managed to arrive before your cat would start to voice its sorrows from having to be driven around through the bumpy roads.

you gently grabbed the carrier, and entered the space, a characteristic smell attacking your nostrils. "hello." you greeted the lady at the front desk, smiling as politely as you could. "i came to have my cat checked up.”

the woman returned the gesture, her doe eyes flickering up from the computer as she examined your form. "and what does seem to be the problem?" she asked, her tone softer than you imagined it would be. most probably, she wasn’t the one who picked up your call.

"uhh," you began, a little unsure, "i don’t know. it’s just acting… off, so i got a little worried."

she nodded with understanding, asking for personal information and the cat’s name. once you were done with all the registering, she gestured towards the door, telling you the doctor was already waiting inside. in response, you sent her a grateful look, and quickly opened the entrance — only to be met with the sight of a face you prayed you wouldn’t have to see today — or ever again, for the record.

"[name]!" Phainon almost cheered, his eyes widening with recognition, "i didn’t expect to see you there. come, come." he ushered you inside, because as it turns out, you somehow forgot how to walk. you moved your feet reluctantly, your hold on the carrier tightening.

you felt absolutely flabbergasted. that fool — that absolute moron — was working as a veterinarian?!

upon taking in his navy-colored uniform, and the stethoscope hanging loosely around his neck, you had absolutely no doubts now. still, you found yourself asking: "you work here?"

Phainon laughed with obvious amusement, raking his fingers through the fair locks. "what do you think?"

ugh, was that déjà vu you were feeling again?

you tentatively settled the carrier down on the table’s surface, narrowing your eyes at the man. so he was the doctor. and he would be taking care of your cat.

"sorry, could i request someone else to take over?” you asked to no one in particular, looking around in hopes that another vet would pop out from the space, and help you out of the dire situation.

your neighbor scoffed with feigned hurt (at least you think it was feigned, looking at the way his eyes still crinkled in the corners). "why, [name], who do you take me for? i’m more than qualified, so don’t worry." he smiled at you now, taking a quick glance through the carrier’s bars. "oh, what an adorable kitten you have! what’s its name?"

"Bubbles.” you responded, curt and bitter as you continued to frown, anxiously chewing on your lower lip.

Phainon nodded in understanding, slipping on his medical gloves before reconsidering. "and is it friendly?" he mused, his blue eyes briefly flickering over to another pair of gloves of thick material, probably made only with the purpose of protecting the doctor’s hands. "or is it as feisty as its mistress?"

you listened to the man’s chuckle, as if the poor joke he just offered was the funniest thing in the world. "friendly enough." you said, tapping your foot against the tiled floor with impatience.

"glad to hear that." he carefully opened the carrier’s little doors, reaching towards your cat, now huddled into the corner. Phainon gave it a gentle tug, but once it refused to move, he sighed with resignation. "it’s scared of me. could you take off the carrier’s top?"

you cocked one of your eyebrows up at him, doing as he told you. "i’d be scared of you too, to be honest."

Phainon huffed at the comment, sending you a halfhearted glare — then, his focus returned to your pet as he picked it up, placing the animal down on the table. "hi Bubbles." he cooed at the cat, running his palm up and down its fur affectionately. the sight almost made your disdain towards the man soften, as you watched him smile so widely at the utterly anxious Bubbles. "what’s the matter, sweet thing?" he mumbled to the cat, even though it couldn’t answer him.

you took a singular step back, observing the whole charade with a dry smirk. "to be honest, i’m not sure myself. it was acting weird, you know… moving slower, eating less. i decided to bring it to the vet, 'cause i got worried."

Phainon seemed to mull over your words for a short while, and it didn’t surprise you when he came up with nothing. "i’m going to examine it, and then we’ll see what can be done." he decided, leaning down to look at Bubbles from up close.

everything that occurred then happened in a quick fashion — your mouth opened to warn him, next the cat’s whole tail seemed to puff up — before you could even say anything, sharp claws scratched the man’s pale skin, its reflexes too quick for a human to react to. you gasped, conflicted between bursting out into laughter, and expressing your hardly-genuine concern.

seriously, Phainon was either still inexperienced (which he earlier said he wasn’t, but as your list of annoyances told you — he was a hypocrite), or he was straight up stupid. you watched him jolt back, hand immediately flying over to his now wounded nose, feeling at the droplets of blood gathering up.

you winced. "oops."

"hey, you said it was friendly!" Phainon whined, quickly reaching for the napkins, and pressing one to his face. "for real, maybe someone else should take care of that troublemaker." he murmured, glancing towards the other door. "Mydei!"

who now? oh, so there really was an another vet — and it would seem whoever that was, they decided to ignore your earlier call for someone else’s assistance.

the door opened, a blonde man’s head peeking out as he took everything in with a stern expression, his sharp eyes narrowing at Phainon, who happened to be still gripping his bleeding nose. you almost wanted to take another step back, suddenly feeling small under his rather displeased gaze — if not for the polite nod he sent your way, you surely would have done so.

"Mydeimos, oh, my dearest friend, you’re the cat expert here." Phainon pleaded, his eyebrows narrowing, "wouldn’t you be so kind, and help—"

the veterinarian scoffed, immediately shaking his head. "first of all, you’re acting unprofessional." he said, his golden irises falling upon Bubbles, who still seemed terrified. "second of all, stop making a commotion. you’re scaring the cat."

"Mydei—"

"third of all," he interrupted mercilessly, going back to the separated room, "i’m getting prepared to check up on the horses, so i’m busy. take that as a no."

the door shut quietly, and once again you were left on your own with Phainon, whose expression was nothing short of defeat. against everything you felt towards him, you still sent him a sympathetic look — that Mydei guy really possessed quite a character.

"damn. and you’re calling me feisty when he exists." you remarked, careful to keep your voice low enough so the other vet wouldn’t hear you — if he did, then certainly you’d go flying out of the window.

Phainon let a silent snicker slip past his lips, "well, i’m not sure if you remember, but i did say you remind me of someone, didn’t i?"

you paused, unsure whether you should treat that as an insult, but ultimately decided to let it go — it wasn’t worth getting worked up over something like that. "…and you said he’s the cat expert. so what is your expertise, if you can’t even deal with a little feline? lizards?" you mocked, your eyebrows arching in amusement.

he shook his head. "well— i’m pretty sure you don’t share my sentiments, [name], but i’m rather fond of dogs." Phainon explained, "and by the way, lizards can cause damage too!"

your amusement only furthered when your gaze found its way onto the man’s exposed arms — scratches and bites in all variants of severity splattered across his skin, signifying he definitely had his own share of incidents with animals. "okay, whatever you say, doc." you huffed out, stopping yourself from rolling your eyes.

Phainon shrugged, throwing the napkin in the trash can, his focus returning to your pet. "well, alright then. let’s… let’s try again, shall we?"

as it turns out, your cat’s behavior was caused mostly due to stress — the new environment, smells, and everything piled up — but other than that, Bubbles was completely healthy, which caused you to breathe out in relief.

that evening, you didn’t see Phainon on the balcony. good riddance.

——

agony.

it was the only adequate word you could use to describe whatever you were feeling right now.

another seven days passed, and you deemed that as enough time to get acclimatized — the saturday’s morning started out slow, with you deciding to finally get a grip on your life, and perhaps search for jobs you could take up once you return to the city.

you set up your laptop, prepared yourself some tea, sat down as comfortably as you could with your pet making sure to keep your lap warm, and then it started.

that awful, absolutely terrible sound of complete anguish — drilling.

the second Bubbles heard it, the poor critter bolted from your legs, sprinting downstairs to probably hide from the loud noise. you wished you could do the same, except you actually had some work to do, so running away was out of question. technically, you could move your laptop somewhere else, but its battery condition was so bad, you had to keep it charging all the time — and it just so happened that the only accessible electrical contact was by your humble desk.

you knew who was making that noise. who else could be the culprit, but your annoying neighbor? it was only logical, looking at the way your semi-detached houses stood separated by a good few yards away from others.

that damned man, deciding it would be such a brilliant idea to start whatever renovations he had to do simultaneously with your work — not to mention, doing it so early in the morning. what time was it anyway, like seven? you glanced at your laptop’s screen — 7:31 AM.

you gritted your teeth, letting out a low grumble of dismay as you started typing on the keyboard. five minutes passed, then fifteen — all you did was stare blankly at the bright display of information you couldn’t possibly process through the clamor. you were wasting your precious time — no, Phainon was wasting it! if only you had his number, you’d immediately dial it, and start screaming at him to wait for at least the next three hours until he could resume the drilling (you doubted he’d listen).

with a sigh of resignation, you put your forehead in your hands, cradling it once you felt a headache building up behind your eyes, hammering painfully.

some time passed, and the noise was finally gone — which can’t be exactly said about your current migraine. you closed your laptop shut, thinking there was no way you would be able to continue with your lookout during such an insistent ache.

it was long since you felt so utterly livid. perhaps he was one of the few people who were able of evoking such strong emotions in you.

"jerk!" you yelled at the empty space of your bedroom, "stupid bastard! good thing you stopped, else i’d shove that goddamn drill up your arse!"

you huffed, and upon letting your frustrations out, you felt better — only slightly, but that was progress. it wasn’t like you, screaming and cursing like a spoiled brat, but at least you had a way of venting your anger caused by the ruckus. and it’s not as if Phainon could hear you, so you didn’t particularly care.

the rest of the day was monotone at best, and excruciating at worst. you didn’t do anything useful — tried wiping the dust off of some shelves, but they were already clean. then, you played with Bubbles, prepared dinner (which tasted awful, by the way), scrolled through your social medias, watching some mind-numbing videos until darkness came, and it was time for bed. you took a shower, changed, blew your hair dry.

everything you did was already a routine, and while it might have been relaxing, it was also boring — the sense of urgency in your body not letting you enjoy your quiet vacations, instead pushing you to do something more productive. alas, you found yourself lacking in the strength to even move a finger — well, almost, because instead of hitting the hay, you thought to step out on your balcony. again.

you were not surprised to see Phainon standing there, as it was also a part of the routine — you hoping to take a breath, and then being forced to listen to his usually thoughtless rambling. yesterday, he told you a story of how a cow kicked him straight in the gut when he was still a rookie to his profession — then proceeded to act offended when you laughed at it.

well, you found him annoying (especially now), but perhaps he was right about one thing — you were absolutely alone here. maybe the solitude caused you to become insane, pushing you to spend more time with him? yes, that’s definitely what happened. once your countryside excursion is over, you’ll certainly have to get your brain checked by a specialist.

Phainon clicked his tongue when you measured him with your dull gaze, setting your vision on the faraway trees as if he was but a mere speck of dust. "well, good evening to you too, [name]." he said, that ever-present smile already dancing on his lips.

you leaned over the barrier, feeling the gentle breeze rake through your hair, caressing your face. it was getting warmer and warmer by the day, and personally, you thought the change was for the worse. "don’t talk to me, or i’ll sew your mouth shut." you muttered under your nose, trying to ignore his intense eyes.

your neighbor tilted his head to the side, sending you a half-curious, half-teasing glance. "what? i didn’t hear you, [name]."

you knew damn well he heard you the first time, with the way he was standing so close to the barrier of your own balcony, looking like he was ready to take a leap across any moment, as if only to be closer to you. two another things to add to your list: makes too much noise (with the drill, to be precise), and has no concept of personal space.

"i said," you began, agitation arising in your voice as you turned yourself to face him fully, "shut your mouth, or i’ll shut you up myself."

Phainon whistled lowly, his eyebrows arching upwards. oh, if you had a rag, you’d definitely smack that empty head of his, wiping the smirk off his mouth. "[name], i’m already starting to shake in my boots." he hummed, amusement evident in his tone, "don’t look at me this way, or i’ll actually—"

your hand shoot up, stopping him from whatever nonsense he wanted to say next — you didn’t have enough mental strength to bear the things he could possibly throw your way. "no. just no."

"aww, must you always be so mean to me?" he whined, and you supposed you should spend less time with him. at first he was somewhat tolerable, but now all the initial politeness was gone, instead replaced with an unrelenting onslaught of winding you up.

another thing to add to your list: Phainon was a straight-up tease. (and you hated the way it made you smile sometimes)

with a heavy sigh, you looked back towards the rocky mountaintops, wishing you could just teleport there. "i’m not in the mood. i had a migraine from all that noise you made earlier."

the man’s confidence seemed to falter now, and he leaned back from the railing, clearing his throat. "oh, you mean when i started to drill? yeah, sorry 'bout that." he smiled sheepishly at you, scratching his nape. "are you angry at me?"

mere anger would be lenient, in this case. "take a wild guess, Phainon."

he clasped his hands together, his eyebrows knitting as he appeared genuine for the first time this evening. "oh, i must apologize. i should have told you earlier— i mean, about the drilling." the man leaned over, searching out your eyes. "does your head still hurt?"

what do you think? is what practically forced its way onto your tongue, but you held it back. déjà vu, déjà vu.

"no, i’m fine now." you breathed in response, "what did you assemble?"

Phainon seemed to consider your words for a second, before the characteristic smile found its way back onto his lips. "just a shelf. i ran out of space for my books, so i needed to add another one."

you nodded. "i see."

deep silence fell over you both, the only sound being the song of crickets, chirping away to their heart’s contents. Phainon’s mouth opened and closed, as if he was wondering whether he should speak up on whatever was bothering him right now — you, on the other hand, relished in the tranquility, his verbose tongue stopping for a rare moment of peace.

finally, he leaned over the railing so hard, you were sure one gust of wind, and he’d come tumbling down. "[name], honestly i still feel bad about causing you headache. as a compensation, why don’t you— i don’t know, let me treat you to a dinner, or—"

as if there was actually a fancy restaurant in this village. "save your money, i don’t need any compensations from you." you interrupted, pushing yourself away and starting to walk towards the balcony door. the only thing you didn’t need was your neighbor’s pity.

"hey, wait! you didn’t let me finish!"

was the last sentence you heard before shutting the door, and draping long curtains over the glass.

——

may came around, and life seemed easier now. after a month in here, your mind arrived to a rather simple conclusion — being on the countryside could be pleasant, at times. when you had nothing better to do, you’d leisurely lie down on the hammock you somehow managed to secure in your garden, the oak’s wide branches successfully obscuring you from unrelenting sun. Bubbles would accompany you, sprawled out on the grass, dozing off to the pleasant chirping of birds, its attention eventually caught by some grasshoppers.

the taste of lemonade, and the sweet scent of blooming lilac were utterly comforting, and so you found yourself enjoying the little vacations much more than you initially thought you would.

except — there was still one, big problem, and its name was Phainon.

you could recall it as clear as a day — his almost mocking chuckle as he peeked over the wired fence, watching you sweat when you worked on planting the potatoes, your knees digging uncomfortably into the soil. why you decided to plant them in the first place — you didn’t know, but you were bored beyond reason, and so the idea of indulging yourself with some true countryside life appeared somewhat enticing.

"are my eyes deceiving me?" Phainon laughed, spreading the tall stalks of sunflowers, which obscured his sight of you. "[name] actually tries to do something in the garden. who would’ve thought…"

you huffed in irritation, your eyes snapping up from the dirt you desperately attempted to dig out as you deemed fit (because you obviously were too lazy to even check how potatoes should be planted correctly — why not eyeball it?).

once your gaze met with the happy twins of blue, you felt an irresistible need of throwing the dusty soil straight at the man’s face beaming face. "yeah, i do. what’s it to you?" you murmured, starting to feel overly exposed.

Phainon shrugged, attempting to lean on the wired fence, but ultimately discarding the idea when the thing bent dangerously under his heavy weight. "nothing." he responded nonchalantly, but still refused to go away.

you scooped the dirt into your palm, clenching it into a fist before dumping in his direction. he ducked, briefly avoiding having his snow-white hair stained — then, he laughed again. of course. was the sound of joy the only one he could ever make?

you should add it to your list: laughs too much.

"wow, almost hit a bullseye.” he breathed, straightening out, "maybe you could prolong your stay and join us during the summer festival. there’s a plenty of games that consist of throwing." Phainon mused, and you snorted when one of the sunflowers bumped his head.

with a roll of your eyes, your focus returned to the ground, as you tried to resume your digging. "i’d rather not."

he clicked his tongue with dissatisfaction, that you couldn’t tell whether was true, or feigned. "ah, but why not?" he whined, his fingers hooking on the fence’s loops. "[name], if you really feel so unsure in your skills, then maybe i could play for you, and win you some prizes?" upon his coercion, you sighed, looking back into the giddy irises with an unimpressed expression.

"i’m sorry, Phainon, but do i look twelve to you?" a scoff escaped your lips as you took in his smile. "i don’t want teddy bears, especially not from you."

your neighbor seemed to deflate, almost just like balloons do. "especially not from me? and here i was, thinking we were already starting to get along."

you knew the hurt was feigned, because he had to work his lips into a thin, tight line, as if forcing back that insistent giggle threatening to slip past his lips — but he still looked like a kicked puppy, and you hated how it tugged at your heartstrings.

"stop guilt-tripping me." you responded bluntly, digging your small shovel into the dirt with probably much more force than necessary. "i didn’t come here to frolic around with you, and your friends. i actually have to get my shit together soon."

Phainon pushed his body onto the fence, evoking a weak creak from the old wires. "well, perhaps you should start getting it together now," he hummed, his intense gaze set on you, "because i don’t think potatoes should be planted during may.”

you halted your movements, chagrin prickling at your skin — come again? what does he mean by 'not planted during may'? all of your efforts — buying the potatoes, digging the rows during such a heat it made your vision go white — and now it would go to waste? maybe you really should have read something about the topic before taking up your work.

shame of an unknowing city girl washed over you as you let the shovel go from your hands. "why didn’t you tell me from the start?" you asked with pretension painted across your face, "it would’ve saved me some time, instead of wasting it!"

the man shrugged, sending you a smirk that was teasing, and yet so innocent at the same time. “i’m sorry, but you just seemed so engrossed. didn’t want to ruin your fun."

you seethed internally, already grabbing another handful of dirt into your palm. Phainon noticed your action, immediately hiding behind the shield of sunflowers. "seriously, [name], that’s like— common sense!" he continued, and even though you couldn’t see his face, you were absolutely sure he was grinning from ear to ear. "who in their right mind thinks that potatoes can be planted near summer?"

"well, maybe me?" you retaliated, getting up from your aching knees.

Phainon’s head peeked out from behind the flowers. "then you’re definitely in for some tutoring. maybe i should just teach you how to—"

you shoved the dirt into his face. he yelped dramatically, stumbling backwards, and falling on his ass.

for once, you could be the one smiling down at him with an undeniable triumph in your eyes.

…and that’s how it went. truthfully, Phainon’s unrelenting desire of keeping you company whenever you tried doing anything was quite perplexing. more often than not, you were simply mean — perhaps wanting to chase him away with your bitter attitude. he was either extremely oblivious, or didn’t care. but it’s not like he lacked in friends to keep himself practically glued to your hip — an obvious proof of that was now, as he cheerily conversed with familiar faces over the grill.

it was unbearably hot today, however you still failed to occupy yourself with anything useful, so you discarded your disdain for the sun, and decided to lounge in the garden. Bubbles was happily prancing around the grass, chasing after little bugs — and you felt the need of curling up on yourself.

Phainon, who seemed almost hellbent on always spotting your presence, turned away from the grill, and waved your way. you didn’t wave back.

your cat, possessing its ever-traitorous nature, hopped over to the wired fence, rubbing against the rusty wire. the man immediately crossed the distance and crouched, his eyes softening, which was a vivid contrast to the wide smile he still donned. he reached over to the animal, sticking his fingers through the fence, and petting its little head as Bubbles purred upon the newly-received attention.

"Phainon," a deep voice called from over the grill, causing your neighbor to turn his head, "what are you doing over there? the bread is gonna burn."

"then just take it off yourself!" Phainon retaliated, huffing out in frustration before his gaze returned to the pet — then to you. "how’s Bubbles? already feeling better?"

you dragged your feet closer to the pair, crossing your arms over your chest as you studied his hunched form, caressing Bubbles’ fur. the man had to practically force his way through the sunflowers, and other lush bushes obscuring his way — he really must have loved animals… or bothering you.

with a shrug, you leaned down to give the critter a small pet on its back too. "it’s feeling way better." you responded briefly, not wanting to expand upon the well-being of your cat. Phainon already did what he had to, and he wasn’t at work now, so it frankly wasn’t his business.

"is that right, beautiful?" he beamed down at Bubbles, finally retracting his hand. "well, i’m very glad to hear that. oh, by the way," he straightened out, gesturing with his head towards the people sitting by the grill in his garden, "[name], wouldn’t you like to join us? i’m sure everyone would love to get to know you."

you gave a sigh, the trail of your vision landing upon Mydei — who you were already acquainted with, because you took Bubbles for another check-up, and that time he was the one tending to your cat (thank gods), and the familiar lady from the front desk. you didn’t know her name, but she seemed friendly enough — so you waved in their direction, trying not to show how unsure you truly felt. both of them smiled at you.

you genuinely wanted to join them, because in contrast to Phainon, the pair actually seemed somewhat bearable — but it felt like… intruding. a weird sense of not being exactly separated from everything else, but also not belonging. "i’m sorry, but i must decline. i was— i was actually going to do some work now." you spoke to the violet-haired woman more so than to Phainon directly, and she gave an understanding nod.

"that’s alright." she took a sip of her drink, her irises briefly flickering over to Mydei, who was now busying himself with flipping over the meat, "next time, then."

you leaned down to scoop Bubbles into your arms, and your neighbor voiced a sound of disappointment, spreading the stalks of sunflowers further hastily. "oh, but [name], why not? can’t your work wait?" he whined, giving you puppy eyes. could he get any more pathetic than that?

a protest bloomed on your tongue, and you already opened your mouth to speak up on it, but another voice interrupted you. "give that woman a rest, Phainon. didn’t she say she’s busy?" Mydei spoke, and you breathed out in relief. truly a life saver.

"yeah." you affirmed, pressing Bubbles a little closer to your chest. "i’ll go now. bye."

with that, you turned on your heel, and walked back home, still feeling that intense gaze on your shoulders — seriously, would it hurt him to cut you some slack for once? it’s not as if he was lonely, unlike you.

so why did he continue to seek you out so much?

you stared at the chuck steak, now placed on your table — after your neighbor’s little get-together was over, and the slightly irritating smell of grill and burning meat dissipated (exactly — burning. you didn’t know what was going on, but you heard panicked screams of Phainon through your open window, wailing over the food he accidentally ruined), he decided to knock at your door. of course, you opened it, only to be met with a sight of neatly packed steak, practically pushed into your face.

you took the tupperware boxes, sending him a confused look — then, he proceeded to explain he bought too much, and they couldn’t eat everything, and how he didn’t want it to go to waste, and how delicious it was, and so on. this time, you didn’t interrupt his nonsensical rambling for a change, allowing him to stumble over his words awkwardly — for some reason, it was endearing.

after he was done with his hardly-coherent rant, you thanked him for the food, and closed the door in his face. for a second, you even wondered whether this steak was poisoned, or something — but upon closer inspection, it turned out to be completely edible. actually, you were quite surprised with the taste. it was exactly as he said — delicious. through his logorrhea, you managed to catch one information that stuck out to you — Mydei was the one to season, and prepare the portion.

it honestly was kind of bewildering to you, because that stern guy with a no-nonsense attitude didn’t look as if he was especially familiar to the art of cooking. well, as the saying goes — don’t judge a book by its cover.

still, you couldn’t help but feel gratitude, thanking the gods he was the one to take care of the meat, instead of Phainon — who, due to your earlier deduction, successfully managed to burn it.

once you finished your rather late dinner, you put the dishes away in the sink, deciding to let them soak for now. then, you continued on with your usual routine — shower, change, blow your hair dry, bid goodbye to Bubbles who was peacefully snoozing on the couch. drag your feet over to the balcony, open the door, greet your neighbor dryly… wait, where was he?

you almost caught yourself frowning at his absence. almost.

should you add it to your already long list of annoyances? doesn’t keep up with the unspoken routine: check.

usually, you’d be happy to find that the balcony beside yours was empty, except this time it irked you — why, you weren’t sure, but perhaps his company during the evenings, when the sky was already darkened, and splattered with bright stars, was the only consistent thing, keeping you grounded and secure in this still somewhat unfamiliar countryside.

but you’d never admit it. never.

so, with a reluctant sigh, you departed back inside, falling onto your bed, and closing your eyes. the hour was still fairly young, perhaps too early for you to fall asleep, especially since the air seemed oddly still — the chirping of cicadas distant, not quite reaching your ears.

now, you could easily discern all the other noises surrounding you — the creaking of your old house, Bubble’s quiet meows from downstairs, the loud yelp of pain — wait, what?

you jolted upwards on the mattress, listening to the following chain of curses, the sound of a familiar voice resonating muffled just behind the wall where your bed stood. you blinked in surprise, thinking — since when was the wall separating your rooms so thin? yes, you heard some weird noises before, but you chalked it up to nothing in particular, deciding to ignore them. right now, doing so seemed almost impossible.

you pressed your ear to the cold wall, meeting with silence. "hello? Phainon?" you called over, keeping your voice loud enough for the man to hear. another beat of silence passed before you heard a barely audible sound of footsteps. it is truly miraculous you somehow failed to guess where all the foreign noises were coming from (which was, most likely, caused by you living in your lavish family-house for the bigger part of your life).

once you pushed the side of your head closer, you could almost make out the ruffling of sheets coming from the other side. "[name]?" the voice resonated louder than you expected it to, causing you to jump back.

you found yourself almost laughing at the discovery, but at the same time, you felt somewhat disturbed by the lack of privacy you had from the start. "are you okay?" you asked, making sure to keep your tone clear.

a quiet chuckle reached you, and you thought Phainon really must have been acting quiet when he was alone — which was unusual, at least in your opinion, but what else could be the reason? after all, you barely heard him, and you already spent a month here.

"i’m— i’m fine." he stammered out, and you imagined him pressing his ear to the wall too. "just stumbled my toe on the table’s corner. nothing serious."

now it was your turn to giggle. "really? it sounded almost as if you had your leg cut off."

Phainon laughed louder now, and if not for the wall separating you away from him, you would’ve thought he was standing right next to you. "sorry. did i scare you?" he mused, and you rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see it.

"hardly. although," you sighed, now leaning a little bit more comfortably on the hard surface, "i didn’t expect the walls to be so thin. i got surprised, is all."

he hummed in response, seeming to consider your words. "well, i was aware for some time now."

"really?"

another chuckle. "yeah. uhh… do you remember when i was was done drilling, and you started screaming curses at me?" your neighbor recalled lightheartedly, and you felt your heart sink to the floor. oh no.

did he really hear you, back then? well, the possibility was rather obvious, since he now told you about that little outburst of yours. it wasn’t like you — to suddenly start feeling guilty about things that didn’t bother you earlier on. still, you couldn’t help but flinch in shame, thinking you wouldn’t mind if the earth opened, and swallowed you whole.

upon hearing your lack of response, Phainon urged. "[name]? you still with me?" you could hear the smile in his voice.

"yes, i am." you snapped out of your stupor, "sorry 'bout that. i guess i got a little too angry, then." you apologized quickly, feeling your cheeks burn. good thing you weren’t on the balcony now, else that awful man would tease the hell out of you.

listening in — you almost wanted to add to your list, but it wasn’t exactly his fault. plus, if you’d try to enforce that logic, you’d be equally guilty.

"ah, but don’t worry about that." he assured, as if sensing your concern, and you imagined him waving his hand dismissively. "i found it funny, just so you know."

you chewed on your cheek for a second, before finally deciding to let the topic go. "why didn’t you come out on the balcony today?" you asked instead, swiftly changing the course of conversation.

another, very quiet snicker which you barely were able of discerning. "why, is my lovely neighbor suddenly troubled about my well-being?"

if he were standing on that balcony, you’d push him off.

"no." you immediately refused, maybe a bit too quickly, "don’t get your hopes up. honestly, you could be dying right now, and i wouldn’t bat an eye."

Phainon scoffed. "ouch. your words are cruel as ever."

…well, perhaps you didn’t mean it to come out that way. truth be told, if Phainon was as much as sick, you’d be already worried — even though you didn’t want to admit that. still, he was annoying, and so you wouldn’t let down your bitter facade down.

a slightly awkward silence fell over you, and you finally started to feel fed up with all the talking. too much happened today as it is, and now you’d rather face your embarrassments alone. "anyway, i’ve still got some work to do, so…" you trailed off, the lie easily slipping off your tongue.

"you’re still not finished?" the man inquired, and then you realized you offered the same thing as an excuse earlier, because you were probably too shy to join the grill.

was your mind always so slow, and clumsy? "i— i, uh, yeah, still not finished." you forced out, and it would seem it was now your turn to stumble over the words. "you know how it is. work, work…" you let out a dry chuckle, hoping he couldn’t hear the waver in your voice.

"but didn’t you say you were on vacations?"

that much was true — still, you felt a little bit too tangled in your own web of lies and excuses. with a heavy sigh, you said: "yeah, 'cause they fired me. now i’m searching for a new job."

you didn’t know what tempted you to admit your woes, and you were already starting to feel regret. it was a surprise when instead of a teasing remark, you got met with consolation. "oh… that’s unfortunate. i’m sorry, [name]." Phainon said, his tone unusually serious.

you nodded to yourself. "nah, it���s nothing. i already sent a plenty of applications, so it’s only a matter of time before i’ll be back on my feet." you huffed out a breathy chuckle. "you won’t be bothering me any longer."

"and so you’ll leave?"

you blinked, sensing the faceless voice become more muffled, and distant now. you almost hoped he would laugh at your sarcastic comment, but nothing of the sort reached you. "i suppose."

why was he asking such obvious questions? the day you met, you clearly stated you wouldn’t linger for too long — and now Phainon had the audacity to act all solemn when you simply repeated the facts. but, perhaps, you were a little sad too, to part with this countryside. if you could, you’d try and prolong your stay — however, the savings in your bank account weren’t looking as promising, and you knew you had to get a grip. long gone were the days of your parents supporting you.

"ah, i know, i just—" he lagged, "never mind. you know what’s best for you, [name]."

hearing the evident defeat in his tone, you banged at the wall, once but hard. you didn’t like when he was acting so odd. upon your action, you received a startled yelp from the other side — and then a laugh. "stop acting as if i’m going to die, Phainon. maybe i’ll come visit in a year, or two."

"yeah! that sounds— that sounds great." he said, and you pretended to ignore how fake his upbeat words sounded.

you glued yourself off from the wall, lying down in your bed. for some reason, your eyelids got heavy, and the tension that built up between you appeared unbearable (at least in your opinion). "i’m going now. goodnight." you called, pulling the sheets over your body.

you frowned when you received no reply, but didn’t push further.

——

you were… stalling.

right now, the calendar clearly indicated twenty-first of june, and you couldn’t help but grimace at the innocent object, as if it was its fault for your reluctance to leave.

you have tried to pack and go — truly. but a week ago, when you opened your suitcases, you heard a characteristic knock on the wall — and then you proceeded to talk with Phainon for one hour, before deciding to go out on the balcony, and converse for another two.

three days ago, you’ve gathered up your resolve, swearing you wouldn’t get distracted this time — except Bubbles was nowhere in sight, and after your restless search for the animal, you spotted it sprawled out in Phainon’s garden, its tail flickering gently as it leisurely rolled over to the side, obviously relishing in the sun. with a heavy sigh, you committed the act of breaking and entering — well, could you even call it that, when the gate of his fence was open? (thank gods he was at work then).

yesterday, you already had enough of your laziness, and even started taking out your clothes from the wardrobe, but then Castorice, who you managed to become friends with, payed you a visit with a big tray of strawberry cake (bless that woman’s soul).

and so, you finally took the fate’s hint, and decided to lay off your departure preparations for now. it was honestly terrifying how easily it came to you — you simply checked your financial situation, esteeming it as poor but manageable, called your parents to let them know you’ll stay for another week or two, and then pushed the suitcases to the corner of your room.

alas, your quiet day of tranquility came to an end rather quickly, and the second you saw who was calling you up, you almost started to curse yourself out for forgetting — astronomical day of summer, and that damned festival…

you swiped over your phone’s screen, picking up with reluctance. "what?" you greeted dryly, not even bothering to contain your disdain.

"[name]!" that usual, awfully cheery voice resonated from the speaker, and you frowned upon hearing it so loudly. "are you free today?"

you wanted to say — what do you think?, but due to tradition, kept your mouth shut.

"yeah." you offered instead, leaning on the soft cushions of your couch, rubbing at your temples. it would be easier to say no, but the longer you spent in this countryside, the further your weird fear of missing out grew — and since you’ll be leaving soon anyway, it wouldn’t hurt to socialize some more… probably.

you heard the weak sound of shuffling. "great! uhh, do you remember about the festival? maybe you’d like to join us?" you opened your mouth to reply, but Phainon didn’t even give you the chance of voicing your opinion. "well, i’ll be at your door at around… 6 PM? oh, and Mydei and Cas are coming too, just so you know.”

an exasperated groan ripped from your throat, and you wanted to berate him for not letting you speak — it would seem he already made the decision for you. "fine, geez, calm down." you muttered, the corners of your lips itching upwards at his hasty rambling. "just don’t be too late, okay?"

"of course, i’d never let my beloved neighbor wait for me!" he laughed, and you looked up at your ceiling, as if calling out for help from the gods. it appeared they preferred to ignore you today.

you didn’t even say goodbye, immediately hanging up with a sigh of relief. the clock hands indicated a late afternoon, so perhaps it would be better to start getting ready now. you pulled yourself upright, already tired by the vision of an indescribably long day ahead of you.

the loud, upbeat music attacked your ears as you stood tucked away in some corner with Phainon, not wanting to obscure the road for other people, as there were rather plenty amounts of them moving around. only after a prolonged minute of suffering, you noticed you were literally standing by the tall, big speakers — no wonder the music was so unbelievably notorious.

your casual outing started rather calmly, even though you could already hear the clamor from the distance — good thing your house was located far away from the vast fields, now pumping with life as everyone either drank, danced, or tried to shoot their shot with the games. only halfway through your walk, Mydei called Phainon to let him know that something came up — your neighbor’s face fell, and as you asked him what’s wrong, he explained about the 'cows' and 'complicated labor', and that Mydei and Castorice won’t come.

you nodded stiffly, hardly making any sense from his words, but that’s the life of a veterinarian, you supposed. still, the dread of being forced to spend time alone with him — not just talking on the balcony, or bickering through your fence (or wall, as of now), but rather really, really spending time. just the two of you, with no one around to help you out of the awkward situation.

and so, right now you were shifting your weight from one leg to another, pondering how long you’ll have to keep loitering before Phainon graciously offers something to do. his blue irises flickered over to your form time to time, and every time your gazes met, all he did was let out a nervous chuckle.

it would appear he didn’t think the situation through, just like you.

you tugged at his t-shirt, forcing him to lean down to your level. damn him, and his stupid genes for making him so tall. "what should we do?" you asked, keeping your voice audible enough to pierce through the commotion.

Phainon’s whole body seemed to react to your words, his tense shoulders slouching with relief. "there’s many things we could try." he offered, still leaning so close to your face, you could almost smell the minty scent of his breath. for some reason, now you were the stiff one, your nape washing over with salves of hotness. "would you like a drink? or try some games?"

you studied his smile, as friendly as ever, and looked around to scan your surroundings. "maybe games?" you decided weakly, recalling how he once complimented your throwing skills — you doubted it was genuine, but hey, it wouldn’t hurt to try.

the man nodded in understanding, the corners of his lips curling upwards even further as he started to take wide steps towards one of the stalls. you pushed through the crowd, trying to keep up with him — not only was he tall, but he had long legs too! ugh, you supposed those things go in pair.

after searching for an adequate game to play, you finally stood before a rather simple one — throw the balls into buckets, win a prize. easy, no? except the buckets were small, and the balls absurdly light — for a second, you wanted to tell Phainon it was an absolute scam, but he seemed so hellbent you decided to keep quiet. it’s not like he’d listen to you, anyway.

your neighbor’s turn came first, and you snickered under your breath as he kept missing. at first, he boasted just how great he is at the game — then, as his frustration grew, he proceeded to whine and wail at how rigged it was.

"you absolutely suck." you clicked your tongue, tilting your head to the side as you observed him throw in the last ball — it rolled off the table’s surface, disappearing somewhere your eyes didn’t reach.

Phainon’s face whipped in your direction as he frowned at the comment, his eyebrows knitting together. "i swear i don’t!" he retaliated, a mixture of disappointment and ire painted across his features. "if you’re so smart, then why don’t you try yourself, huh?"

the game organizer laughed at your interaction, his gaze flickering over to you, as if he was beckoning you to test your strength. with a shrug, you paid the fee, and the older man handed you five balls. you tested their weight in your palms — light, just as you thought. you knew you’ll probably fail just as miserably as Phainon, so you threw one of them without much finesse — and you actually succeeded. your eyes widened in surprise as the owner of the stall whistled, a rumbling chuckle escaping his mouth.

"well, would you look at that!" the stranger exclaimed, as if even he was taken aback. "sir, turns out your lady is much better at the game than you!" he laughed once more, and you gaped— what did he just call you?

you looked at Phainon, wholeheartedly expecting him to correct the man, but all he did was give him a tight-lipped smile, scratching his neck abashedly. maybe he didn’t hear the older one clearly? well, never mind, it’s no use dwelling on that — you threw another ball, trying to mimic your movement from earlier — it fell into the bucket. the third one wasn’t so lucky, but the fourth one managed to score as well.

Phainon stood behind your back, his hands flying over to your shoulders and shaking you excitedly, "c’mon, [name], you got this! only one left!" he exclaimed animatedly right beside your ear, making your skin crawl at his overly-enthusiastic demeanor — it would seem his earlier bitterness completely dissipated now.

you huffed, shaking him away. "lie off or i’ll miss!" you said, straining your tone to dominate over the ever-present loud music and noise. he took an obedient step back, and you swear you actually started to feel a little afraid of losing now — it’s not like they’ll have you publicly executed if you mess up, right? right?

with a bated breath, you threw the remaining ball into the bucket — you anxiously observed it swivel around, almost threatening to fall out, itching over the edge — and then, it rolled down, stopping at the bucket’s bottom. you caught yourself wanting to jump up in triumph, but all you did was send a self-satisfied smirk towards Phainon, obviously signifying: see? i’m better.

the man cheered in your stead, reaching over to pat your back, and you couldn’t help but relish in the positive attention directed straight at you.

the stall owner cleared his throat, gesturing towards the row of plush toys located behind him. "for four successful throws, you can choose something from this section." he explained, and you measured the cute muzzles of various animals — you almost pointed towards the cat of an eerie resemblance with Bubbles, but then another one caught your attention. a dog of white fur, it’s dark, beady eyes sticking out, as if the object was mutely begging to be picked.

"i’ll have that one, please." you said, gesticulating towards the toy. it was given to you, and you inspected its goofy face, smiling unconsciously at the slightly crooked nose.

you then turned to Phainon, pushing the thing into his arms. personally, you had no need of stuffed toys, and the space in your suitcases was already very limited, so there was no way you’d drag it all the way home. and… perhaps it was worth it, looking at the way his whole face lit up. "oh, is that for me?" he cooed, lifting the dog to his eye-level.

you shrugged nonchalantly, pretending as if you didn’t notice the way Phainon continued to ogle the toy for the whole time of your game. "yeah. never thought i’d see someone who’s pushing thirty being so excited to have a stuffie." you remarked sarcastically, though your voice lacked in any real bite.

"thank you, [name], i’m going to cherish it forever now!" he ignored your comment, leaning down to embrace your shoulders with his free arm, the white dog resting under another — and for some reason, you didn’t find yourself pulling away. a mere eye-roll would be enough to voice your completely truthful, and totally not feigned disdain for the action.

after you were done hopping around all the other stalls, you decided to sit down for a drink — which in your humble opinion, wasn’t the best idea, but you couldn’t find the strength to refuse Phainon. you huddled with him on the lengthy benches, one of your sides pressing against him, and the other briefly brushing against some unfamiliar woman, who seemed to be too occupied with her conversation to even pay you any attention. which, of course, you were grateful for.

the same couldn’t be said about Phainon, who casually leaned over the wooden table’s surfaces, happily chattering with acquaintances and strangers alike, occasionally introducing you.

you stopped at one cup of beer, deeming that as enough, but your lovely neighbor continued to drink one after another — after the fourth glass, you stopped counting. he seemed to uphold pretty well, still talking with enough finesse to make out what he wanted to communicate, and even asking you out for a dance multiple times — it’s not hard to guess whether you decided to accept, or decline.

still, nothing lasts forever, and soon it got dark enough, with you becoming quite bored with sitting around and listening to the conversations around you. Phainon’s face was now slightly blushed, and his hair disheveled more than usually, which was an obvious sign you better go before he starts making a fool out of himself.

right now, you were practically dragging his arm forwards, berating yourself for thinking you could ever deal with that man-child. "c’mon, move faster or i’ll leave you here, and you’ll perish in those bushes." you urged, pointing towards the rather dense flora on the side of the road.

he chuckled in response. "nah, you wouldn’t."

"wanna see for yourself?"

that seemed to shut him up. for now.

a beat of silence passed as you tried navigating through the darkness, the only source of light being moon, and the distant leds of the festival. "[name], did you enjoy yourself today?" a slightly unsure, but still obliviously jovial tone came from beside you.

"i guess." you responded dryly, even though a multitude of insults kept forcing themselves onto your tongue. for whatever reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to throw any mean comments at the man — which was unusual, so perhaps you were drunk too. no matter if you only had one cup.

"you guess?" Phainon started, the syllables of his words slurring slightly, "that’s not an answer, y'know!"

you huffed, deciding to indulge his drunken mind. "yes, i had fun today, thanks to you, and only you. happy?" you deadpanned, and the man’s eyes seemed to brighten as he reached out to ruffle your hair, still trailing one step behind like a lost puppy.

"very!" he affirmed, nodding excitedly. seriously, if he was pathetic while sober, then what levels did he reach now?

you sighed with resignation, shaking your head as you continued to lead Phainon towards your houses. once you got there, he was almost ready to bid you goodbye, but you opened the gate for him, ushering the man to step forward. looking at the stumble in his step, that moron could accidentally hurt himself — and you didn’t want to explain to the paramedics how your neighbor decided to get wasted, proceeding to slip on the cobblestone stairs of his place, and cracking his skull open.

"ah, [name]," Phainon crooned, batting his thick eyelashes at you, "i didn’t know you actually have a heart!" he joked, wincing when you slapped him across the wrist.

"i just don’t think you’re capable of conquering the stairs by yourself, dumbass." you nagged, though truthfully, your worries stretched much further. a drunk person is extremely vulnerable, and, well, Phainon could be rather… unfortunate at times, so you’d better not risk it.

the man dragged his feet over to the entrance, patting the pockets of his pants before pulling out the keys. after another failed attempt of pushing them inside the lock, you clicked your tongue in irritation, taking them and opening the door yourself. it was your first time visiting the man — such a way to make an impression — so you looked around the space of his home, thinking it was rather cluttered for someone living alone. not to mention, that house was built at least for a family of three — and he never mentioned having any, so why is he…

"do you really live here alone?" you found yourself asking, observing Phainon as he struggled to close the door.

you briefly noticed his shoulders stiffen, but he nodded. "for some time now, yeah." he answered, his voice quieter than usually. he turned to you upon hearing the lock click, his smile a little too tight, and you sensed you were treading into a dangerous territory.

your curiosity almost got the better of you, especially since he was drunk, and would probably spill anything you wanted to know — but you quickly discarded the idea, thinking you could never take advantage of him. "alright, i won’t ask. stay there, i’ll bring you a glass of water."

Phainon nodded obediently, leaning on the wall as you turned on the big light, and tried to find your way to the kitchen — which obviously wasn’t hard, because as it turns out, even the layout of your rooms was the same.

you swiftly took out a singular cup, filling it up with tap-water before your attention got caught by something on the fridge — a few photos stuck to the surface with colorful magnets. it wouldn’t be polite to pry, alas your earlier ignited curiosity demanded for you to take a closer look — and so, you stepped a forwards, quickly scanning the contents.

the first one depicted Phainon and Mydei in their veterinary uniforms — the blonde’s man arm was loosely slung over Phainon’s back as they posed for the casual photo. a small, brown puppy sat in his embrace as your neighbor smiled widely at the camera, exposing a row of pearly whites. for some reason, he looked happier then.

next one was of similar nature, with Castorice and Phainon sat atop some hay, two calves resting on their laps — nothing else caught your attention.

the third picture was much more thought-provoking. Phainon and an unfamiliar girl of fuchsia hair stood in front of a sea — her lips were curled into a smirk, while the man’s mouth was open, brows furrowed, as if the photo was taken during some kind of a lighthearted bicker. you didn’t know who she was.

another one presented you with more context — a family of four, posing in front of a statue you couldn’t exactly discern. the fuchsia-haired girl seemed to be his sister, leaning on Phainon’s side as she licked on some icecream. beside them stood two other people — a woman of the same fair locks Phainon possessed, and a man, grinning from ear to ear with thumbs-up.

your eyes already flew over to the next one, but a distant call rapidly snapped you out of your reveries, almost causing you to drop the glass. "[name]! did you die here, or something?"

you cursed under your breath. "coming!"

you forced your feet to move, but your thoughts still reeled over and over again, and you felt an uncomfortable ache in your chest — just what happened to Phainon? where was his family now? did they decide to move, leaving him alone here? oh, but that didn’t make any sense — the house was obviously full of their stuff, because there was no way he would need so much of everything.

you decided to abandon your pondering for now, thinking you’d find another occasion to ask. "sorry i took so long. let’s go to your bedroom." you breathed, flashing him an apologetic smile.

Phainon didn’t protest, beginning to climb upstairs with you in tow, making sure that if he stumbled, you’d be there to catch him. his bedroom was even more so cluttered than the entirety of the house — books sprawled out on the desk with papers messily thrown around, ceramic figurines sitting atop some shelves, a few plastic bottles of water discarded all about the space — still, you thought it definitely fit him.

"ugh, i’m so exhausted." he groaned, sitting on the mattress as you handed him the glass, turning on a small lamp standing on the bedside table. the man sipped the water hastily, tilting it at such an unfortunate angle it spilled across his torso, soaking his t-shirt. Phainon mouthed something under his nose, placing the plush toy beside his head as he fell heavily onto the bed.

you rolled your eyes, observing his half-asleep form. "seriously?" you asked, searching his wardrobe for a new top — once you succeeded, you turned to face him again. "at least change, for gods’ sake."

Phainon voiced a sound of protest. "don’t wanna. too tired." he mumbled, evidently defeated by the alcohol still running through his bloodstream with fervor.

you sighed, closing the distance between you, and begrudgingly easing his shoes off, placing them neatly in the corner of the room. then, you grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it upwards. Phainon laughed weakly at your action, his big palms catching your wrists. "wow, i didn’t take you for someone so bold." he gave you a lopsided grin, and you wished you could smack him across the head.

"shut up." you warned, and the man thought to lie off with the teasing remarks — a wise decision indeed.

you took off the clothing, throwing it on the nearest chair before you started to tug on the new, dry tee on his shoulders. "arms up." you instructed, and you felt as if you were playing dress-up with a very large, uncooperative doll (meanwhile also having to avert your eyes, because staring at the toned chest was definitely improper).

Phainon hummed in satisfaction, stretching out. "thanks, [name]. what would i do without you?" he mused, and you found yourself terrified to hear that his voice was unusually tender. why were you helping him in the first place?

(the answer lied somewhere far away, at the back of your disarrayed mind — but for now you were way too scared of admitting it, even in your thoughts).

you gently grabbed his shoulder, pushing him to lie on his side. "stay like that. preferably don’t move at all." you said, your eyebrows unconsciously narrowing together. "if— if something happens, just call me up, or knock at the wall. understood?"

before you could even take a step back, a hand shoot out to grasp yours — your breath hitched, eyes widening as you felt Phainon’s fingers locking through yours, keeping you in his grip. "are you going already?" he asked, his hazy gaze seeking you out with such insistence, you thought your heart might just crawl out from your throat.

what was he doing to you?

"…probably. you need to sleep it off." you murmured meekly, trying to keep your voice steady. "don’t want to bother you any longer."

Phainon huffed out a dry chuckle at that. "bother me? you could never, [name]." he spoke, and something in your gut told you he must have hit his head earlier, when you weren’t paying attention.

upon receiving no reply from you, his expression shifted into something slightly dejected, and you wanted to burst out from a mixture of ambivalent emotions swirling in your poor brain. "when are you leaving? i mean, the countryside." he inquired quietly, pressing his fingers tighter around yours. you hated how easily you could discern anxiety in his eyes.

you considered his words, leaning down, just a little. "don’t worry about it now."

the man seemed unsatisfied with your dismissive answer, a somber grimace blooming on his face. "tell me."

you let the air out from your lungs; why not add it to your list? stubborn as a donkey. "soon. in a week, or so." you explained, your erratic heartbeat still yet to falter. "maybe longer, maybe not. we’ll see."

Phainon mulled over your words, the cogs in his mind turning slowly as he tried to process whatever information you threw at him. "and will you visit soon?" he questioned finally.

that you weren’t sure of. what’s his definition of 'soon'? a few months? a year? well, if you know Phainon, you’d bet all of your money for an absurdly short amount of time — something like… five days. maybe four. "i don’t know." you answered truthfully, because you didn’t feel like lying him straight in the eyes.

for a brief second, he looked done with the interrogation, but then, his mouth opened again. "and must you… must you really leave? [name], i—" he winced, hissing in pain. you knew drinking would be a bad idea. "i know you have your own life, but it’s not like— it’s not like you’re not enjoying yourself, right? i could help you find a job here, actually, i already have a plenty of ideas what—"

your free hand shoot up, cutting his slurred rambling short — now that was new. you knew Phainon got attached, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t get as well, but you never thought it extended to such an intensity. your annoying, irritating, absolutely awful neighbor was thinking of searching for a job, specifically for you — and for what? so you’d stay?

you couldn’t bear to listen to him anymore, and you thought you actually blessed him with a favor by interrupting the vulnerable rant. in the morning, when he sobers up, Phainon would surely regret spilling so much (that is, if he even remembered).

still, his desperation with constantly seeking you out, and making vast effort to please you remained a riddle — and then, as you frowned at his expression bordering on panic, you came to a rather simple, albeit morose conclusion — he was lonely. previously, you were sure things like that stretched only in your direction, but upon looking through the cracks of his mirthful mask, you couldn’t ignore the vivid sorrow seeping out of him.

you recalled how much he enjoyed talking, and occupying himself with anything, at all times, as if only to keep his mind busy. earlier on, you didn’t understand how someone could possibly push through a long day of work, and then demand even more stimulation — now it was almost logical. then, his quiet nature when he was alone, either reading or doing gods know what, treading his bedroom so silently you wouldn’t even know he was there.

and finally, the photos of his family, stuck to the fridge, their smiling faces frozen forever in time. if Phainon had a fallout with them, surely he wouldn’t keep the memories exposed in such an obvious place — the possibilities tugging along with that conclusion almost made your heart stop, your stomach churning uncomfortably.

"Phainon." you spoke, trying not to show how much all of this affected you. "you’re drunk, and you don’t make much sense. we’ll talk about this once you’re sober, alright?"

that stupid glimmer of hope in his eyes seemed to go dim, and he merely nodded in understanding, ultimately deciding to ease his grip from your hand. you slipped it away from his slender fingers, instead reaching to his tousled hair, and brushing the bangs away from his forehead. "i’ll go now. sleep well."

"okay. you too." the man answered, and you waved at him briefly before silently shutting the door, and descending downstairs. if you wanted to, you could go take a peek at the photos again — but for some reason, it felt like a way of betraying trust — even if Phainon didn’t know you were doing it. still, you decided to stick with your moral compass, and left the house altogether, your heart unbelievably heavy.

——

twenty-second of june. the morning started out slow, with you waking up barely after 7 AM, and even though sleepiness continuously pulled you down into the mattress, you decided against lying and lazing around.

your thoughts were still heavy with what occurred yesterday, and the vision of Phainon’s utterly defeated, slightly flushed face haunted your memories, causing you to become restless. perhaps, you felt a little… well, bad, about leaving him alone when he oh-so obviously needed company — and if you’re not mistaken, he’s probably sleeping now, or just awoke with an insistent headache, completely hangover.

upon your guilt, a wonderful idea sparkled within your half-working brain — why not make him a gift, preferably some dry food, as if just to settle his stomach (in case the alcohol wanted to make its last revenge, and cause Phainon nausea as he hopelessly bent over the toilet).

with that, you concluded mere sugar cookies should be fitting — not overly sweet, but dainty enough for an appropriate gift — and most importantly, easy to make. for a second, your aspirations rose higher, and you almost found yourself calling up Mydei to ask him for assistance, but who in their right mind would get up at seven on the sunday morning? you quickly discarded the idea, afraid of meeting with his ire.

you were no cook, and baking was never your strongest forte, however after one hour of wrestling with the batter, and your slightly cranky oven, you were done (the recipe said it would only take thirty minutes, so maybe you were the problem). still, you couldn’t help but gaze at the product of your efforts with pride, now sitting nicely atop the tray. you tasted one — and while it wasn’t perfect, you deemed it as enough.

not so long ago, you let yourself buy a rather beautiful summer dress, with a ribbon tied loosely around its waist — and so you donned the piece, allowing the liberty of appearing somewhat presentable after a long night of tossing and turning. you didn’t bother packing the cookies into a container, instead parading straight into Phainon’s yard with tray in your hands — your thoughts reeled as you wondered what excuse should you offer. you made too many, and wished to share? they tasted shit, but you don’t want to waste? or — or anything, if only you didn’t have to admit that indeed, you were worried, and wanted to make him a pleasant surprise.

after all, it’s unlike you to be so openly kind — and you aren’t kind, no, you were always supposed to be stern and rigid. except now that facade you built up specifically for your difficult neighbor would be hard to uphold — with you dressed in a sweet summer dress, carrying cookies straight to his door.

you chewed on the inside of your cheek, feeling waves of heat crash over you, either due to nerves or the sun, that shone brightly down on you, even though it was still early in the morning. what could you say once you look him in the eye? how will he react?

you took a few steps forwards on the freshly cut grass, which Phainon seemed to enjoy mowing at the crack of dawn (as if only to spite you), and before you could spiral downwards your slide of overthinking, the front door opened, a familiar silhouette emerging — that’s not how it was supposed to go!

you stopped dead in your tracks, feeling the surprisingly feisty wind whip at your cheeks — Phainon didn’t seem to notice you at first, his irises downcast as he intently studied the pattern of his cobblestone stairs with a pensive expression. you coughed, immediately catching his attention — like a medicine, the man’s whole face lit up, and he beamed at you.

"[name], hi!" he greeted, skipping over to your frozen form. your vision briefly scanned his appearance — he obviously showered not so long ago, now changed into a set of new clothes. "how are you? i was afraid you might be mad at me for the stunt i pulled yesterday." he laughed sheepishly, his eyes locked on yours, as if he completely failed to spot the tray of cookies.

it wasn’t easy, but you forced yourself to speak up. "no, i’m not angry at you." you explained in a strained voice. "actually, i was— uh, you know, wondering if you’re okay, and all that."

Phainon blinked at you, still smiling like a moron, the cogs of his brain turning — and then something seemed to click, because his eyebrows narrowed in a heartfelt manner. "ah, don’t say…" he glanced down at the thing in your palms, the corners of his lips itching even wider.

you shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "yeah, that’s for you." you affirmed, sensing his uncertainty. then, you took in his pale skin, and the prominent eyebags, hanging lowly under the twins of blue. "are you hangover? you look like shit."

that earned a chuckle, and you almost sighed in relief upon hearing the sound of joy you earlier seemed to despise so much. "a little.” he breathed, "still, i can’t believe my dear [name] was so kind to bake for me—!"

you growled in exasperation, and Phainon stopped his sentence before your grimace could deepen any further. "if you don’t like it, then i’ll just eat the cookies myself." you huffed, flustered by the teasing remark. you wanted nothing more but to let your soul step away from your body, and bolt the opposite way.

"no, no!" the man gesticulated animatedly, shaking his head as his features turned coy again, "i like it. i love it, actually. it’s very sweet of you to think about me— so, uh, thank you." he laughed nervously, his palms reaching towards the tray.

you rolled your eyes fondly at his stammering, opening your mouth to offer a response — but then, a sudden, definitely more stronger gust of wind hit you both, causing the ribbon of your dress to unravel loose, and fly up into the air. you gasped, your eyes widening — Phainon didn’t seem to think much when he practically jolted for the lace, outstretching his arm to catch it.

and, since fate thoroughly enjoyed making a fool out of you both — your neighbor stumbled over your own legs as his chest collided with yours, subjecting you two to the inevitable pull of gravity while the cookies went flying along with the tray, and you finally crashed onto the soft grass with a thud.

you gaped, staring at Phainon’s equally bewildered face, now hovering above yours. you tried to catch a breath the impact successfully knocked out of your chest — or maybe your inability of proper breathing was caused by the rather close proximity between you and the man.

"got it." he announced dryly, gripping the ribbon in his hand — which also happened to block out your shoulders, tightly trapped beneath him.

you don’t know what caused it to be so funny — all the effort you put into making the cookies, now wasted as they lied discarded somewhere, ants probably gathering to collect the sweetness of the dough. or maybe just how utterly terrified Phainon looked — pupils blown wide, eyebrows shoot practically into the hairline — his eyes studying you with panic, as if you’ve broken at least ten bones.

still, you couldn’t help but erupt into salves of laughter, pressing your eyelids shut as you continued to wheeze, so hard and intensely you started to feel tears gathering up, your whole stomach hurting. Phainon at first seemed confused, thinking that perhaps you hit your head too hard — but then joined in on your cackling, the sound ringing clearly by your ears.

you tried to recall when was the last time you laughed so hard — and you honestly couldn’t, because moments like these were unbelievably rare in your life. when you could let your guard down, completely disarmed — it would appear Phainon somehow managed to pry your psyche open, reaching into your brain, and fixing the circuits.

upon finally calming down, you slowly opened your teary eyes, looking up at the man — the sun shone brightly from behind his head, encompassing the while locks with its light, and you almost caught yourself thinking he looked like an angel, donning a halo. from this up close, you could easily discern the slightest scrunch of his nose, and the faint scar running across its bridge — Bubble’s making.

you hated yourself for it, but in a dream you don’t tell anyone, Phainon and you remain together. you don’t leave the countryside, finding a humble job. your neighbor helps you move in for good, tugging the suitcases with your stuff upstairs, and you let him decorate your room while you fold the clothes. you let him into your life, and he allows you into his — it would be a lie if you told you could remember when the line between neighbors, friends, and something more began to fade into one.

and then, when your poor brain began melting into a puddle, his voice snapped you out of the stupor. "[name], are you— are you alright?" he questioned, still smiling, albeit shyly now. oh, right — you almost forgot. he was still pressing you into the ground.

"what do you think?" you found yourself asking, that comically familiar sense of déjà vu washing over you at once.

in response, Phainon let out a timid chuckle, his face blushing a furious red, and you thought — maybe i’ll stay. perhaps that dream of yours, which previously appeared as an unattainable desire could become true. for some reason, you felt older, more tired now, and so you didn’t wish to part.

(you couldn’t. not when he looked at you like that.)

the man cleared his throat, avoiding your eyes. "i’m sorry. ah, the cookies, and—" he stammered, "your dress, i’m—"

that evoked a chuckle out of you, and you reached for the crown of his hair, giving him a consoling caress (which was supposed to help, but only made him shrink even more). "everything’s alright, no need to apologize." you hummed, smiling so widely it felt almost unnatural.

Phainon immediately nodded, making quick work of standing up, and helping you upright, perhaps a bit rapidly. "gosh, i’m so embarrassed now." he muttered, his tone bashful as he studied your form, as if searching for any injuries. "are you sure you’re alright?"

"i should be the one asking you that." you sighed, resting your hands on your hips. "you look as if you’re going to combust any moment."

the man laughed, scratching his nape — which was his nervous habit, you deduced by now. "i mean— yeah, yeah i s'pose so…" he mumbled under his breath, taking a reluctant step towards his house. "come inside, i’ll give you something to drink, or, i don’t know, have you eaten breakfast yet? i could make you some." he rambled, the loquacious tongue working overtime.

you nodded in a grateful manner, falling into step beside Phainon. then, you paused, as if remembering something. "oh, by the way, is that job offer you found for me still available?"

your neighbor stopped in his tracks, his face whipping towards you so quickly you were surprised to find he didn’t accidentally snap his neck — then, his expression morphed between astonishment and joy so vast you thought he might genuinely explode into a puff of confetti and glitter.

"what?" he asked dumbly, jaw slack.

a shrug. "you heard me."

the fuses in his mind seemed to lit up simultaneously, his contagious grin spreading over to your mouth. "so, does that mean you’re going to stay?" Phainon questioned, though it sounded more like a statement.

"yeah, i—"

before you could even think of finishing your sentence, strong arms whipped around your waist, hoisting you up into the air. you yelped, a surprised giggle ripping from your throat when Phainon twirled you around, cheering with joy as big as the life itself. you instinctively grabbed his shoulders to secure yourself, laughing along.

"h-hey, set me down!" you forced out, briefly glancing at the elderly couple strolling by, and watching the whole charade with evident amusement.

he shook his head in protest, pressing the side of his face to your shoulder, and you thought he truly resembled a dog. "oh, you’ve no idea how happy i am!" Phainon exclaimed — all you could do was roll your eyes in response, accepting defeat.

as he held you close — so tightly it felt as if your ribs might crush — all your uncertainties began to dissolve, vanishing like snow beneath the first sun rays of spring. at that moment, you knew with unwavering certainty that deciding to stay in this countryside was the right choice. undoubtedly so.

the truth is, everything was better with Phainon. no — everything has became better. ever since him, your dull days began to harbor more meaning. he didn’t simply enter your life — he seemed to force his way inside, bothering you with a multitude of jokes that hardly landed, and his nature of a chatterbox, and all the annoyances, and you still found yourself yearning for more.

he filled you up with that odd, wild desire to know everything about life. even the simplest words from his mouth, a casual “will you visit me today?”, began to sound with the weight of: "come home, [name]."

and you would. every time.