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satoruhour · 2 years ago

Note

Accidentally sending gojo a nude and before you can properly apologise he sends a video of his own which leads to..well🫣

BABY BLUE SWEETNESS

a/n: my clit grew hands and wrote this. combined this w/ a part 2 of being gojo’s roommate / tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @utahimeow @lov3rbody my gojo fuckers

wc: 3.7k (I HAVE GOT TO STOP WRITING SM ....)

warnings: mutual pining, roommate!gojo, dom!gojo, he gets rough but only bc he loves ur pussy sssoooo much, sending nudes by accident to gojo, semi-public m! masturbation, filming (on gojo’s end), pet names, praise, slight f! masturbation, oral / cunnilingus, nipple play, bit of dialogue during sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink (twice!), multiple rounds, implied m! oral, n*sfw under the cut

the next week goes by uneventfully.

but you think there’s hardly anything worth happening when you hadn’t even said anything about that: standing outside satoru’s room, hearing his pleasured moans along with the slickness of his hand on his cock and watching him at his most vulnerable with whispers of your name.

gojo did have a few moments of weakness — brief bouts of failing to meet your eyes, stuttering, but he was still predominantly himself after, throwing laundry on the floor and leaving the toilet paper roll unfilled. by date, he was the messiest roommate you’ve roomed with, compared to sleeping over at shoko’s and geto’s places before; sure it was obvious enough being friends with him since high school, though you hadn’t thought that the rowdy, outgoing way that he spoke would translate into his living space, too.

and despite being the one who has the upper hand that very day you decided to stop and watch, he still manages to have some sort of hold on you, catching you off-guard at the worst times.

“any luck with the mods?” gojo peeks over at your laptop over at the small dining table, your leg propped up and a scowl on your face at how you were still on the waitlist. while mr. perfect beside you has gotten every module he’s bidded for, a course on philosophy, romantic and 20th century music as well as an online mod about ethics.

“i don’t even know why you got that last one! funny how the most annoying person who has anything but morals is entering an ethics course.” maybe it was the fact that you’ve already waited one and a half weeks. perhaps it was that one piece of clothing gojo loved to leave on the floor, or simply it was just because of the man himself — you were on your wit’s end with the week.

that fades away when you’re turning your head and gojo is right there, hovering over your computer screen with a sly smirk on his face and his stupid bright, blue eyes that you could spend hours staring at.

“you wound me, baby,” gojo whispers, like it was a secret between the two of you and he pulls away, both hearts beating an unnatural speed at the proximity. gojo swears to himself he’ll never call you anything close to that or be that close because it’s absolutely not good for his heaving chest and hardening dick — those pretty plump lips of yours and the innocent look on your face — he wanted to both kiss it and fuck it.

and yet, on dormitory movie nights where you’re sat on both ends of the couch with geto and shoko between the two of you, satoru wills himself to patiently wait until the end of the first movie to stretch his limbs and get more snacks; he knows you’ll follow, too, because it’s been like that for as long as he can remember.

“you know you have to stop eating all that candy, right?” you’re saying it mindlessly, pouring more chips into a bowl and getting the hummus and guac, “it’s not healthy.”

gojo’s leaning on the counter and doesn’t help whatsoever, both elbows on the wood and head tipped back to meet your height.

“aw, is my cute roomie worried about me?” you almost want to ignore him with that little compliment, not sure if he even meant it, but you’re leaning into him this time with a little glance down to his lips that he thinks he imagined it.

“no, just wondering how embarrassed i’ll be when i have to tell the paramedics that when you finally collapse on the floor, it was because my dumb roommate had consumed too much sugar.” you like this little game you play with satoru, yet you’ve never been this bold; maybe it’s because you know he finds you hot, too, but the two of you are too stubborn to stand your ground and admit the obvious.

gojo’s feigned pout spreads into a grin and simply blows a raspberry at your explanation. there’s a crinkle of yet another sweet packet, disregarding your chastise from earlier. “smart little thing, hm?”

“i become the brightest when you’re involved,” you swipe the sweet from his fingers and pop it into your mouth, “i have to when i need to insult you.” the two of you spend the rest of the movie night hip to hip on the couch, ignoring the fire in your connected limbs and the spark of your fingers when they brush against each other.

it’s a few months before you’re fully embracing that you might not just find your roommate hot, but that maybe you’d want to “wife” him up as the other has expressed jokingly. it didn’t help that gojo is cleaning up a little more often these days, learning how to cook and using his inside voice like you told him to (you didn’t think he’d remember). the last straw was possibly seeing him fuss over you when you fell sick, switching to remote classes just so he could be close to you — his main excuse was that he didn’t want his laundry to be infected.

“but you don’t even like to use shirts half the time you’re home!”

“you’re calling this home—” gojo giggles while simultaneously shoving cough mixture down your throat, “i didn’t know we were married!”

“shut your trap before i really make you regret this.”

but gojo thinks that maybe it wasn’t so bad to come home to you in one of his future days, he just had to get through this first.

it was meant to be a simple photo to show off your new set of lingerie, the ones that you had gotten with your girls at a half-off price just the other day. you couldn’t blame yourself when your hands naturally reached for one that mirrored gojo’s eyes alongside the white details that represent his hair. buy it, take a potential nude and laugh about it in the group chat, that’s all. you felt so damn sexy in it that you even went as far as to take a few photos with your bra unclasped and phone in hand hiding your chest, until the very last one where it was fully off.

you felt unlike yourself, in that stuffy, small dorm while satoru was out in a lecture—

before gojo texts you about groceries and his chat moves to the very top that same moment you’ve got all these lewd, unnatural pictures of you waiting to be sent. it happened all too fast: at least 10 being delivered and read on the spot that your panic is indescribable and you want to melt into mush on the floor.

while you’re scrambling to delete them, gojo stares at your figure in that last racy picture, hands skilfully covering your breasts just enough that he could still see the curve of them and then down to your figure interrupted by a pretty pair of blue lace undies. it’s like you planned this, looking so delectable in your little get-up until it all disappears and you’re sending multiple messages of “i’m so sorry”’s and “it was an accident”’s.

gojo thanked the heavens he was sat at the very back of the lecture theatre, immediately booking it out of there with the images of you seared into his brain. his cock is throbbing and so, so hard it almost hurts to walk to the restroom, and you’re still continuing your apologies. he wants to scream at you — how you do not need to say sorry for whatever you’ve just sent, because as he removes his dick from his tight pants, there’s a soft sigh of your name that falls from his lips.

satoru is reminded of the times you’d be sat in your stupid booty shorts in the dorm, basically showing your folds because he just knew you didn’t like to use underwear underneath. he’s reminded of the times you had to (unwillingly) use one of his shirts when the washing machine had broken down and the only thing on his mind at the time was what you’d look like bouncing on him — he thinks that maybe he just needs to spit it the fuck out, and so he opens the video feature on your private chat.

“this is what you do t’me, baby,” gojo’s tip is already leaking so much pre-cum, making sure he can be seen, expression and all, “you make me so— s-shit— fucking hard.”

he didn’t even care if he could be heard, pumping his cock to the thought of you in that baby blue set of lingerie. he thinks of ripping it all off of you and buying you more just so he could do the same thing again and again, eyes scrunching up in bliss as his hand continues to move up and down his length. his hand isn’t even close to what he wants to feel — your tight pussy sucking him in — but he settles for it, squeezing his palm around his shaft and thumbs his tip.

“ya see this, angel?” gojo chokes out a moan when he sees another notification of ‘i really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable’ and it was the exact opposite for him in this bathroom stall, really hoping this video would drive his point home, “s’all for you, f— fuck.”

the video is incoherent from then on, because it’s all too much for him, the strokes of his warm hand, the images of your body, the sensitivity of his cock. lewd noises of him jerking off and his whines echo throughout the restroom, cumming with a slack mouth and babbles of your name on his lips.

“fuck, fuck, fuckkk…” satoru can hardly care as his cum stains his shirt, leaving his cock in needy spurts that dribble down his hand as well, wishing he could see it against your skin instead of his own. the end of the video is messy and hasty that he doesn’t even think much as he sends it, but it’s not even halfway through the video before you’re sending a simple “please come back, now.” and his heart jumps in his chest.

gojo simply shoots a quick text to geto, asking him to help him pack his things because he will definitely not be returning.

you’re so glad you don’t have any more classes for the day, too, because all you can think about now is satoru and his cock, blessed again with the sight of him losing himself in pleasure except now, he knew. your hands aren’t hesitant in reaching down to your core, lingerie already soaked through as you watch the short two minute video over and over as you lazily play with your clit with your eyes trained on his hand. it’s so hypnotising you don’t realise gojo’s already home, standing at your room door with his bulge showing through his pants and sweat lining his brow.

“did you run here?” you sit up, hands covering your chest instinctively. he shakes his head and you remove them.

“you know the bus will take too long, baby.”

you ignore the flutter of your heart and pussy when you know he says the pet name with intent, now, not in a joking or teasing manner. you want to hear it more.

“was that really an accident?”

you’re kneeling on your bed now, and gojo just wants to shut you up and make you take back all your apologies.

“it was!” you counter, not minding how your roommate slips his hand around your waist and is just inches from you, “but…”

gojo never truly loses his personality even when he’s hot and bothered, “but what, princess?”

that’s new.

you grin at his chivalry even when you’ve got your chest all vulnerable like this: he’s trying to break you with his eyes, the one thing that led you to choose baby blue in the first place. you win when his eyes flit down to your tits.

“but you still ended up sending me a video of you jerking off — hardly any decorum, huh, satoru?”

gojo rolls his eyes, hands trailing up your body and coming to rest at your boobs, “yeah. but you love it.”

that’s all he says before he dips down and takes a nipple into his mouth, leaving your hands to tangle in his hair as your back arches to give him more space. he’s so hungry, swirling his tongue around your hardened bud as he kneads the other, eyes occasionally meeting yours from your chest.

“d’you like the vid?” his speech is muffled.

“like it? i loved it—” a soft moan leaves you, “didn’t know you were such a sub, though.”

gojo laughs into your skin and you’re obsessed with the feeling, challenging him when he reaches your eyes again with a glint in his eyes.

“oh, you’re in for it, baby.” gojo grins, capturing your lips and feeling so free now that everything’s out in the open. he’s finally able to feel your lips on his, so soft and slow, making him go crazy from such a simple gesture. gojo pushes you gently onto your bed, kissing down your exposed body before coming to your pelvis, playing with the hem of the underwear.

“gotta thank this little guy for solving our problems.”

“please do not call my lingerie ‘little guy’,” you giggle, letting him remove the garment and you preen at the praise he gives your pussy.

“s’wet… is this all for me?” gojo shamelessly inhales your essence, the sight of him between your legs enough to make anyone cum.

“yeah…” it’s a whisper when you say it, breathless and impatient yet loving the way he treats you. “i get wet only for you, ‘toru.”

gojo moans at that, eyes rolling back momentarily before his mouth descends on your pussy and you think you can hear a brief hymn of hallelujah. he savours your cunt slowly, licking lazy stripes up and down your pussy and your moans match them — soft, drawn out — hands playing seamlessly with his hair. gojo’s startling baby blues meet you for a second and he smiles softly before he places a kiss to your clit.

a twitch, and satoru fully shows his expertise in the next second, eating you out like he was a starved man and you were the last meal on earth. your roommate sucks on your clit, groaning into your core as he feels your thighs close in around his head and your heels dig into his back. he switches easily to your hole, driving his tongue into the leaking entrance and his nose starts to nudge at your nub.

“satoru— s-shit!” your moans increase in volume, hands pulling harshly at his locks. “feel s’good—”

“yeah?” he speaks into your cunt, slurping up your juices time and time again until his jaw aches. your pussy just tastes so sweet that it’s got him grinding into the bed, too, relieving his cock with desperation. “was made just to eat you out, sweetness.”

“doing so well— are you close?” it was difficult to hold on when satoru was talking to you like that and devouring you so good, thumb now playing with your folds while his tongue focuses primarily on your clit again. he flicks at it and his eyes look at you for your answer, merely nodding pathetically as his abuse on your cunt is relentless. gojo would love to memorise the way you clench around his thumb, but he’s too fixated on your whines before you cum with a cry of his name.

“o—oh fuck— ‘t-toru! oh my goddd…” his mouth never stops moving even when your thighs tremble around his head and your body convulses, clit throbbing in his mouth and your mewls reaching the highest heavens.

gojo grins into your cunt, making sure you watch him as he collects all your juices onto his tongue, giving your pussy one last satisfied lick before he sits up, making quick work of his pants and he shows you how to not have one ounce of decorum like you commented on earlier—

because as he pumps the cock you saw just minutes ago, you tongue darts out to lick your lips unknowingly. as he drags the tip along your folds, you’re spreading your legs wider for him. as he slaps his cock along your cunt, your hips are moving on their own accord to feel more of him.

“filthy girl,” gojo leans in to your face, “talkin’ bout me having decorum. you should see yourself.”

you laugh, bringing him in for a brief kiss. you liked that you still could banter in times like this.

“i’ll admit i never had it, so it would b-be—” gojo slips just the tip in and you’re cut off, a choked whimper leaving you, “hypocritical to criticise you.”

“ya think?” gojo wiggles his hips gently, sinking into you and the squeeze of your cunt around his cock is too perfect, too tight. his own whines leave him as he eases inch by inch into you before you’re confessing.

“y’know after seeing you jerk off that day— f-fuck, in your room,” you mumble, wrapping your legs around his middle that causes him to moan, “i wanted nothing more than to help you clean up, cum and all.”

gojo chuckles breathlessly, you two have been pining for months? but he recovers just as quickly, bottoming out with a loud sigh. he lets your hands travel over his face, holding it in your palms.

“y-yeah? why didn’t you?”

“wasn’t sure if you liked me—” a whine cuts through your words as he takes the first slam into you.

“i’ll make sure you know how much i like you, baby, ‘kay?” gojo manages to get out before his hips moves into you, no longer able to hold conversation with the way your cunt sucks him in. he’s determined now, to show you how someone like you had a hold on him so strong that he was willing to pick up dirty clothes and take time out of his day to collect groceries. it’s not long before your roommate is able to pick up a pace, loving the way you trap him with your legs as his hips piston in and out of you.

the room is so much more stuffy, now, filled with the scent of sweat and sex as his pelvis meets your ass in timed thrusts. it was so filthy, too, cum from your previous orgasm aiding him as lube and sticking to his pubes from how much you were dripping.

“y-yeah— fuck me like how you’ve been wanting to, ‘toru—” you mumble out softly, already drunk on his cock. you swear you can feel the veins and his cockhead twitch at that, the sounds of the other filling your ears.

“you take me so, so well, baby,” gojo praises, face buried in your neck as he gives you kisses there, mind blank except for how you’re so wet that your arousal is spurting everywhere each time he comes up to the hilt in you, “taking my cock and squeezing me s’good.”

little pants leave you at the affirmations, and like always, gojo is a fast learner, already knowing your sweet spots when a hand sneaks down to rub at your clit. the circles go in time with his thrusts, and before then, you’re jerking in his arms, nails scratching at his back as your pussy spasms on his cock. gojo groans into your skin, hips still ramming into you before the clench of your cunt prompts him to cum as well.

“right there— s-shit!” you’re moaning when you can feel his cum seeping into you, the exact thing you’re imagining feeling even better as he loads you up, but you don’t have time to react when gojo flips you over. a quick glance to his face tells you he’s intoxicated on your pussy, pressing down on your arch.

“can you handle— another load— baby?” it comes out in between his thrusts, the way he begs to cum in you again and you’re never one to deny when you’ve wanted this for the longest time. you let satoru use you, face buried in the sheets below you while his thrusts start to turn sloppy. he’s not giving one fuck that he’s cummed the fastest he’s ever done before and how he’s going to do it again, but it’s inevitable when he’s got your cunt wrapped around him.

“y— yes, satoru— want you to fill me up, p-please—” it all overloads him: the way his cock disappears into your hole, the residual cum from earlier sticking to your ass and his pelvis, that white ring of semen around the base of his dick, your desperate pleas and cries.

it only takes one stroke of his hand on your clit before you’re cumming so fast again together with him, fingers grasping at the sheets as your pussy flutters around his length and you get his second load in return. it’s so viscous and hot, spilling into your hole. it’s so much, body going limp against satoru’s messy thrusts as he continues to rut into you, stilling finally when he starts to cramp in his thighs.

“attagirl, that’s it, sweetness,” gojo gasps out from behind you, staying locked in you as his cock spurts out the last bits of his cum. he presses a small kiss to your shoulder, asking softly into your skin if you were okay.

“more than okay—” a small mewl is heard when gojo pulls out slowly, sighing to himself upon seeing the way your cunt push out his cum naturally. there’s so much of it, spilling onto the sheets, but before he can take it upon himself to plug two fingers into your entrance, you’re dragging him to lie properly on the bed—

“not done?” your roommate laughs, a hand playing with your neck and the hickeys he’s left there.

you shake your head, noting how satoru’s cock is still sensitive when your hand closes around it, and you finally can see gojo in all of his glory when your tongue kitten licks at his tip and a shiver travels through his body. his hooded eyes and the buck of his hips are all you need to continue.

“i haven’t told you how much i like you, ‘toru. should i show you now?”

somewhere on your dresser, there’s several messages from your girls, but you’re too preoccupied with satoru’s cock in your mouth to notice — ah, well, you’d update them later.

[6:23pm, operation get (y/n) a partner]: photo attached (4)

@(y/n) girl where is your pic !!!! show us that cute baby blue lingerie pleaseee!!

6K notes · View notes

strwbrychffoncke · 18 days ago

Text

"its not too late to admit you love me,, 3.6k words synopsis: long having thought your love was unrequited ,you think its time to move on and seek help from the man causing the issue in the first place not knowing the storm this brews within him contains: angst -> fluff lnds zayne x mc!reader ,mutual pining but u both are kind of dumb ,caleb mention ,"unrequited" love (but not rly bc its mutual?) -> requited ,dates ,yearner!reader ,angst (self-inflicted on both ends) ,light teasing ,romantic gestures (zayne) ,night stroll ,confession ,playful banter ,um i think thats it note: (unedited!) happy valentines day~ im working on another fic that will hopefully also get out today bc its vday themed n silly....

"i think im going to confess to caleb."

zayne felt his world stop when you'd spoken those words to him oh-so casually, seated on the couch of his house as you had many times before, sipping on a cup of tea he'd brewed for you to chase away the cold of the outdoors.

he blinks once, staring down at you for a moment. your gaze was trained on the tea in the mug, watching the steam rise and breathing in the fragrant scent, allowing it to fill your senses in an attempt to calm your beating heart.

zayne takes a seat on the left-most side of the sofa, leaving a middle cushion space between you both, setting his own mug of tea down on the nearby coffee table beside a plate of cookies he'd grabbed for the both of you to snack on.

despite the storm of thoughts brewing in his mind, his expression remains neutral.

"i see."

a simple answer, the only one that he can conjure up in the moment.

you peek up at him trying to catch any hint of his feelings in those captivating eyes of his.

"what... do you think?"

"should i be the one to have an opinion on this?"

"well, do you think he'll... reciprocate?"

"is that not the reason you're confessing in the first place?"

you let out a frustrated groan. an amused grin ghosts the corners of zayne's lips.

"zayyyne, don't tease me right now, i'm serious!"

he resists the urge to laugh at the cute expression on your face. you really never changed.

"well, is there something that pushed you to make the decision like this?"

sheepish, you look back down at the tea in your hands, feeling the warmth seep through your hands, kicking your feet back and forth beneath you, lightly hitting the soft material beneath you.

"i just thought... its been long enough, you know?"

he tilts his head at a slight angle, reaching for a cookie on the small plate and taking a bite, seemingly losing himself in thought.

sure, he'd noticed. its not something that he particularly found to be a secret, even without you directly telling him of your attraction to the kind, doting boy you'd grown up with.

but he wasn't sure that you'd ever act on it.

thanks to that, he thought he'd had more than enough time to will himself to be honest with you...

but today, it seems that time had run out.

"have you thought about the method? even if its something one could say at any time, the execution is what you're also worried about, no? not to mention the timing."

given his logical side, you had trouble deciding whether opening up to zayne really was the best option (that, and your lingering feelings for him welling deep within you heart), but listening to his words, you remember why no one else could help as much as him in the first place.

"wow zayne, have you confessed to someone or something? is this something i dont know about?"

he scoffs, eyes lingering on your for a moment before they shift elsewhere in the room.

"hardly. it just seems like the most logical things one might be concerned with in this sort of situation. not to mention," he leans forward, reaching for another cookie.

"i know you."

your heart jumps in your chest.

you watch the doctor before you casually consume another sweet cookie, and when he looks over again, you hastily shift your gaze, taking another sip of the tea in your hands.

"right," you murmur once you let the liquid rush down your throat.

"i'm not sure how much assistance i can offer you, but granted thats what you're asking..."

"i'll pay you in one, no, two boxes of macarons! and.. the next time we go to that cafe, it'll be my treat!"

you're suddenly full of energy again, eyes wide and pleading as you negotiate with zayne, his slightly narrowed eyes staring back.

how could he ever deny you anything when you ask like that?

he huffs out a breath through his nose, reaching for the teacup.

"i'll see what i can do."

he watches you over the rim of the cup as you cheer, expression bright as you finally reach over and shove one of the cookies into your own mouth in triumph, a couple of crumbs sticking to the edges of your lips.

you don't notice the pointed stare, and he's grateful you seem distracted enough to not have caught onto the slightly-off tone of his voice or the sight of his thoughts running rampant through his brain.

the price of your happiness this time tasted bitter on his tongue, no matter how many sweet cookies he tried ridding it with.

zayne's thoughts lingered on that conversation as he types on his computer in his office the following day.

it was silly, wasn't it? thinking so much about this sort of thing.

it didn't seem to be in zayne's character, but really, he found these new sides of himself thanks to you.

it always led back to you.

he thought about you, the way you were never afraid to speak and tease him like you would anyone else, taking the time to get acquainted with him back then despite how reserved he was.

and yet...

he thought about how he was a stark contrast to the pilot of your affections, caleb.

even back then, zayne didn't doubt caleb's fondness for you.

he didn't think you really needed his help if you wanted to confess to him that badly. but he didn't tell you that.

instead, he used this as an excuse to spend what time he thought he had left with you before it would inevitably be taken up by the love from your childhood.

you felt... conflicted.

was this really what you wanted, or only what you thought you wanted?

for as long as you could remember, you had been taken with zayne.

something about the stark contrast to your familiar companion caleb intrigued you, and you quickly formed a friendship with him, whether he wanted to or not.

thinking back, you wonder if you actually forced it on him.

he never really denied you of what you wished to do, always letting you take the lead and allowing you entry into his life after you had barged in through the shut door.

maybe... there was never a chance for you.

you heave out a long sigh, flipping another page of the scrapbook filled with pictures of the three of you.

your eyes trail over a picture of you, caleb and zayne together. it was a bright day when you all played together, and you don't really remember who it was that took the picture. you're the only one not looking at the camera, gaze trained elsewhere while caleb is beaming a radiant closed-eyed smile and zayne his usual reserved expression, eyes wide under his large glasses.

your eyes linger on the young zayne for awhile, subconsciously smiling to yourself. he actually was quite camera shy, but never turned down taking a picture with you.

(you didn't know it, but he wanted to immortalize those memories, and it was something that he often looked back on in the time you two had lost contact).

your eyes then trail over to the young caleb, your gege that you had grown up with, the one who probably knew you better than anyone else in the world.

he was bright, thoughtful, and though he always teased you, you knew it came from a place of care and affection for you.

the thought of confessing to him made you nervous, but not in the same way you felt when you'd think about the same scenario happening with zayne.

so, were you really going to go through with this? or were you just trying to convince yourself that you had to get over yourself when it came to zayne?

you close the memory book, face planting into the pillows of your bed with a groan.

what a dream it would be if zayne li could ever think of you as something other than a childhood nuisance, you thought.

the more you prepared, the less you wanted to go through with it.

sure, caleb was everything anyone could want, not to mention attractive to anyone that took one glance at him, but could you really see yourself with him? after fantasizing about what it'd like to be by zayne's side, pulled into his embrace, graced by his affections?

despite this, you still spent the time with zayne, because how could you ever pass up an opportunity with him, as busy as he was?

you learned just how romantic the doctor could be, and you were filled with both giddiness and feelings of envy at the thought of someone else seeing this side of him for real.

tonight was the third "date" (as you liked to imagine them in your head, knowing full-well you were the only one who thought as such) he'd taken you on— a sort of "practice," as he called it— while telling you about what night dates might entail. the other two he had taken you on were during the morning and noon, his objective being that of showing you the different moods the date can create at certain times of the day.

it wasn't something you'd ever considered, but you considered yourself lucky being taken out to breakfast then the library for the first date, and having a picnic lunch and taking a stroll together for the second.

it was like getting a taste of something you knew would never be yours. the flavor of a dessert that wasn't meant for you.

it was bittersweet.

tonight, zayne had picked you up after telling you to dress nicely since he was taking you out to dinner, having made reservations at a fairly nice spot in the city. after scouring your wardrobe, you hoped the simple satin figure-hugging slip dress with matching heels and pretty accessories would do, not knowing how fancy the restaurant he was taking you to really was.

he'd opened the passenger door for you when you exited your apartment, something that he'd done the past two times as well, and allowed himself to get a good look at your outfit, feeling his ears burn at seeing you in such unfamiliar attire.

you looked beautiful.

when he made his way back into the drivers seat, he reached back to pluck a hidden rose from the backseat, offering it to you.

"for you," he whispered, watching you stare in awe for a moment before you took it.

no one had given you any flowers before. you felt butterflies.

"thank you..." you sighed, finger tracing the dainty petals.

"while simple, flowers can be a rather thoughtful gift to give to someone. often, they can relay messages without words, but it can also be seen solely for aesthetic value if the recipient isn't familiar with the language of flowers."

your heart sank.

right. this wasn't for real.

you hummed in acknowledgement, eyes trained on the flower to refrain from looking too longingly at the handsome doctor next to you as he began driving you both to your destination.

"by the way..." his steady voice filled the silence that had enveloped you, the sound invading your ears. you looked up, curious.

"you look lovely tonight."

he offered a small smile, eyes full of a certain fondness that you couldn't really convey from his gaze trained forward, voice soft yet full of raw honesty.

momentarily shocked, you quickly regain your bearings.

"take a look at yourself, doctor."

he grinned, amused.

"it's only natural to want to dress well when taking a beautiful lady out for the evening."

he hopes you know he means every word.

even if this is under the guise of helping you, he so carefully planned out these dates with your enjoyment in mind, having wanted nothing more than to indulge you in a more romantic atmosphere before losing you forever.

but you didn't need to know that.

when you didn't respond with another quip, he glanced over to you, catching sight of your sheepish expression.

"sure..." you mumbled, looking down at your lap.

the radio filled the silence, and you were only grateful for another sound to focus on besides your rapidly beating heart.

. . .

the longer the evening stretched, the harder it was for zayne to keep his composure.

dinner went smoothly. he made several points about this type of date, but noticed you asked far less questions than the past two times he'd taken you out.

once the "lesson talk" ceased, conversation and the usual teasing flowed easily between the two of you.

even with the various other guests in the dining room, its like his world was only enveloped by you.

he only ever saw you.

he took a sip of his drink, allowing himself to sink into the enjoyment of the evening for as long as he was allowed.

. . .

at some point, you decided that tonight was the night for a confession.

just... not in the way that you may have intended.

you think, after going on these "dates" with zayne, spending time together that was much more intimate than before did worse things for your long-lasting feelings, and if you were going to do anything about them, it had to be tonight.

even if he only ever saw you as a childhood companion. this might be the only way to finally, truly move on.

the night was still young by the time dinner was finished, and upon zayne's suggestion, you both decided to take a stroll around the area. it wasn't too crowded and was fairly lit up, and the weather was nice enough to take your time to simply sightsee a little.

how funny. the atmosphere was what one might call perfect for this.

conversation flows again like normal, and when a comfortable silence envelops the space, you encourage yourself to go through with it.

its now or never...!

you take a deep breath before starting.

"zayne?"

he hums.

"what happens if... my confession is rejected?"

he spares you a fleeting glance before looking straight back ahead.

"i wouldn't worry about that."

you can't help the pout that adorns your face at such a response.

"its always a possibility, isn't it?" you quip.

"i doubt it, in this such case."

his response is muttered, but you still catch it.

"well, what if he's weirded out, or— or what if he's never thought of me that way? what if i've only ever just been that 'childhood-companion-turned-nuisance because of the way i forced him into a friendship?"

your voice is quiet when you let the last admission slip from your lips.

"what if... he can't fathom the idea of loving me back because of how he sees me?"

you think you've said too much, that its clear you're no longer talking about caleb.

you both stop walking. the momentary silence feels deafening.

"is that what you think?"

his voice is hushed, but its still loud enough for your ears only. your mind is screaming at you.

its now or never—!

"zayne, i—"

he turns to you, looking straight into your eyes.

"i've loved you ever since we were children, even when i didn't quite comprehend the idea of what romantic love was yet. i have only ever had eyes for you, you're always on my mind, and i find myself looking forward to the time we spend together."

your eyes are wide as you stare up at him, heart pounding harder with every word that spills from the handsome doctor's lips.

"i know my timing isn't the best, but even i was unsure of the nature of our relationship. but..." his hand lifts yours towards his lips, and you feel a soft warmth graze the back of your palm.

"contrary to your belief, i don't think he could fathom the idea of not loving you."

when he finishes his confession, you think your heart might beat right out of your chest.

"forgive me," he murmurs, releasing your hands and taking a step back. you already miss his warmth, body tingling at the instinct to reach out and pull him close once more.

when silence envelops you both again, he presumes he won't get his answer tonight.

"its quite late. we should head back—"

before he can turn on his heel, you close the distance, hands latching on to one of his.

"zayne!"

startled, he looks down at you, face expressing pure surprise. but he doesn't push you away.

"i..." you breathe out a laugh, looking up at him as you feel tears well up in your eyes.

"i thought... you never felt the same."

zayne remains quiet, but his eyes hold shock. you squeeze his hand tighter, smiling.

"i always thought... you weren't interested in me, didn't see me that way. all these years, i had willed myself to forget about you, to bury my feelings. that's where caleb came in, but..."

a tear rolls down your cheek.

"they never left. i.... i've always loved you, too."

zayne takes in every word, and wonders for a moment if he might be dreaming.

when more tears fall and you release his hand to wipe them away, his moves up to cup your face, willing your gaze towards him.

"do you mean it?"

its a whisper in the wind, for your ears only.

"yes," you breathe, one hand holding his over your cheek, pressing yourself closer into his hold.

he huffs out a laugh, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"it seems neither of us are quite smart in this area, are we?"

you sniffle before laughing with him. he swipes away another stray tear with his thumb.

"so, your plan all along was to make me jealous enough to confess?"

you gasp, turning your face away from him.

"no way! i stopped trying that tactic a long time ago when i realized it didn't work."

the pout on your face is palpable. he grips your chin between two fingers, turning your face back to face him properly.

"what if i told you... it did work, its just that a certain someone wasn't the most observant?"

your eyes fill with surprise again.

"really?!"

"really."

you huff out a breath of frustration.

"wow, this is— wow."

he smiles, reaching for your hand and allowing you to make the move in interlacing your fingers together. you do so eagerly.

"come on, lets head to that cafe, it should still be open. i was promised a treat, after all."

you let out a playful scoff, looking up at the amused doctor.

"that was if you helped me to confess!"

"is that not what that was?"

you make an unamused sound in the back of your throat, and zayne only laughs.

"that sound is like the one the cat at your apartment makes when it hasn't had enough snacks."

"oh, hush," you urge, but only grip onto his hand tighter, almost as if to prove to yourself that this was indeed real.

a comfortable silence fills the space when zayne's steps slow. you look up at him, and notice him staring up at the sky.

"the moon looks beautiful tonight."

you look up in search of it to confirm his words, not noticing his gaze having shifted towards you by then.

"yeah," you smile, already knowing the underlying message woven into his words.

"so beautiful."

epilogue

"another thing."

your eyes flit up from your dessert to zayne's face, his eyes trained on the cake before him, dragging a piece with his fork, the sponge secure on the spikes.

"how could you ever think i considered you a nuisance?"

your eyes widen. right, you did admit that earlier...

you laugh sheepishly, poking at your pastry with your own fork.

"haha, well, when i thought back to it, it seemed like i was the one that forced my friendship upon you."

zayne tilts his head slightly, expression quizzical. you continue.

"i... was always the one dragging you around to play with caleb and i. even now, i guess it felt like you went along with what i wanted out of... obligation or pity or something."

zayne frowns at this, deepening at the edges when you finish this off with a laugh.

you peek up at him when he's been quiet for a touch too long.

"how odd."

you raise a brow at him.

you miss his hand raising up to pinch your cheek. you let out a small surprised yelp, swatting at his hand.

"hey—!"

"you should know by now that i don't do things i don't wish to, nor have i ever been known to have many friends."

he scoops up another piece of cake with his fork.

"so, if someone always went along with you instead of pushing you away, it must mean they wanted to spend time with you, maybe even found amusement in the way that someone always went out of their way to play and spend time with that person, yes?"

he shoves the cake into his mouth as he finishes. you're left staring dumbly at him, swatting movements halting as you process his words.

he squishes the flesh softly between his fingers, swallowing the sweet dessert.

"don't ever refer to yourself as a nuisance again. you're anything but, and i'll prove it to you time and time again if i must"

he releases your cheek, retracting his hand.

"if i didn't make it clear earlier, i always cherished you the most."

your heart warms, and you reflect the smile that peeks through zayne's lips.

"i bet i cherished you more," you tease, picking up a piece of your dessert with your fork.

"nonsense," zayne states almost dramatically, eyes narrowing at you playfully.

you laugh joyfuly.

what a dream it was that zayne li had always reciprocated the feelings that you felt for him all these years, you thought.

a/n: this is my apology for the last zayne fic that i did not like n almost deleted but left up bc someone liked it. will slowly work on the rest of the event fics ,fear not (thought ab extending it through the month/to white day? undecided :x) have this in the meantime bc i... like this zayne fic the most

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #l&ds #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you #lads x reader #lads x you #lnds x reader #lnds x you #l&ds x reader #l&ds x you #love and deepspace zayne #lads zayne x reader #lads zayne x you #lnds zayne x reader #lnds zayne x you #l&ds zayne x reader #l&ds zayne x you

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yangkitties · 1 year ago

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love in the library ✩ l.at

pairing: lee anton x gn!reader || word count: 0.5k genre: tooth rotting fluff! || warnings: none, actually proofread for once 😁 synopsis: in the sacred tranquility of the library, love thrives between you and anton note: this was written a couple weeks ago when i randomly saw a gif of anton and immediately got hit by a wave of emotions 😘 he is my lil brachio i love him dearly:') also genuinely loved writing this bc hardly had to include any dialogue and i always love that 😁

The rustling of pages and the scratch of pens were the only sounds that permeated the air around the two of you.

As Anton sat beside you, the silence of the library engulfed you both. It was peaceful, just the two of you in your corner, sunlight streaming through the glass windows.

Anton continues his work, reviewing his assignments quietly. He occasionally slips you a note in his loopy handwriting, a small ‘how’s it going?’ or a ‘shall we take a break?’ sneaking into your line of sight. You replied back to him under his notes, adding little hearts and smilies to your messages. Anton always had to squint when he tried to read your messages, claiming they were as easy to decipher as a dead language, all thanks to your god awful hand writing.

Whenever you said yes to taking a break, Anton would drop everything and pull your head to his shoulder. You didn’t mind, yawning as his fingers danced across the expanse of your uniform sleeve. You could vaguely make out some shapes, an occasional ‘I love you’, and sometimes even a random physics formula from class that day. Other times he would rest his own head on the table, placing your hand on top of his hair, a quiet request shining in his eyes.

Often, you’d use one hand to gently stroke his hair, fingers dipping in and out of his locks, as the other continues scribbling away at your notes. And soon enough you would loose focus, hand coming to a rest atop Anton’s head, pout adorning your face as you frowned at the problems in your paper. Anton would sigh, kiss you knuckles and get back to his own work. He had tried helping you the first few times, but failed miserably, and only made the both of you even more confused than when you began.

It always went like this on weekdays. Unspoken exchanges of love in the library, side by side as you studied in each other presence. For the both of you, this was enough. Being around each other, sitting together, sharing a space.

The 3 hours would pass in a flash, the silence never turning awkward or uncomfortable. The silence follows you as the clock strikes 6, and you pack your things before heading home.

It’s there in the bus ride as you share his earphones, your playlist on shuffle. Head once again finding a home in his shoulder, hands intertwined, the silence keeps you company.

The silence only breaks on your walk back home from the station as Anton holds out his arm for you,

‘Shall we, m’lady?’ His expression elicites a giggle from you, hand wrapping around his arm. You smile as you cross the familiar streets, stopping to say hi to the cats in your way.

Sometimes you rant about your day, talking about all the gossip and drama you heard from your friends. Other times, Anton narrates stories from his classes, his voice quiet, as if he was speaking just for you.

Nevertheless, it ends as you reach your house. You tiptoe to kiss him, and he’d hug you goodbye, waiting to see you through the door.

Day in and day out, through the week, you would find yourself in silence with Anton, and that’s all you needed.

©️ yangkitties 2024 do not copy, plagiarise, or repost

#riize #lee anton #lee chanyoung #riize imagine #riize fluff #riize scenarios #riize x reader #anton x reader #lee anton x reader #lee anton fluff #lee chanyoung fluff #🖋️: nyx.writes ━ misc ☆#🎤 : riize

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killerlookz · 3 months ago

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i hope this doesn’t put any pressure on you because its not meant to at all but can u give us a preview of anything in your drafts 🥲

yes! absolutely i can <3 here's an extra long preview bc i haven't published anything in a hot min:

preview of the heartbeat!au "honeymoon phase" fic:

warnings: rpf below, do not proceed if you dont fw that but this is in rpf tags so why were you even here to begin with

The light of your phone sears into your eyes, a start contrast from the dark of your bedroom. By now your circadian rhythm undoubtedly in deep disarray. However bad you knew staying up way into the early hours of the morning was, you couldn't seem to rip yourself from the distraction of the blue light, perfectly coded algorithms keeping your anxieties at bay.

For the last week of your life your usual peaceful sleep had been ripped through by horrific nightmares, leading you to prefer to just skip sleeping all together. Of course, you knew that wasn't exactly possible, but maybe if you could just avoid falling asleep until the sun came up you could finally be freed of those dreaded night terrors.

The mattress dips beside you, a groan falling from Joost's lips, peacefully asleep next to you. It had been hours since you had said goodnight to each other, since he kissed you with the promise that you two would soon would be deep in slumber. You hadn't bothered to tell him about your nightmare issue, it had felt so childish. You had only been together for a few months now, your relationship seeming far too fresh to deal out what you had deemed "embarrassing" information. Besides, what was he to do about that? It wasn't like he had the power to change the workings of your subconscious mind.

The comforter slips from Joost's shoulders as he shuffles in his sleep, rolling from one side to another, now facing you. You finally pull yourself from your endless scrolling, turning your head to get a look at Joost. He's illuminated just right by the sliver moonlight that peaks through your curtains. The corners of your mouth peak in a slight smile, a rush a warmth running through you as your eyes finally settle on him.

You couldn't believe your luck with him, desperate for friends outside of your classmates after making the leap of faith to transfer schools and move to a different country for your final year of university. You'd been working as a waitress in Amsterdam, which, all things considered wasn't an ideal position for you, given your less than stellar Dutch, but locals were usually sympathetic to your situation, and tourists hardly spoke Dutch anyway. The day you had met Joost had started as what you had postulated to be the worst shift of your life. Hungover during a rush that seemed to last for hours, constantly seated with the most impossible to please customers. Once you were out of the weeds you had been seated with what you were promised to be your last table of the night, trying your best to suppress a groan and an eye roll as you walked up to the table, your eyes immediately falling to Joost, who had been there with what you would eventually learn were his closest friends.

You had thought you known the type, unruly hair, and scattered tattoos, dressed head-to-toe in Supreme, a cocky smile pressed to his lips. Attractive no doubt, but a type. The type that was undoubtably too interested in the Soundcloud rap scene, probably attempting to make it in that space too as a cheap rip-off of Lil Peep. The type to blow all his money on what streams his mediocre raps did get on box-logo shirts and supreme branded underwear. You could already hear the surface-level introspection of his lyrics, writing about how sad and heartbroken he'd been left by all the girls in his life when in reality he was nothing more than a fuckboy with a shitty nail polish job.

Being young and living in a city you had seen the type before, served the type more than a handful of times since you had started your job. They were always the same, traveled in large groups, like that was their "entourage", usually loud, demanding, and obnoxious, thinking their 2,000 Soundcloud streams, hundred dollar T-shirts and knock-off designer shoes made them a celebrity. They'd flirt with you and act aghast when you dared not to flirt back with them.

You had thought you known the type. But when you had gone up to begin helping his table, your previous perceptions had immediately been shattered- immediately becoming even more attractive upon your realization that he wasn't the worst. There was a quiet flirting underneath his goofy- yet reserved demeanor, the type of flirting you didn't mind and eventually reciprocated when he'd become a regular.

It was apparent that you had gotten the fuckboy thing all wrong. When he had finally got the courage to ask you out he hadn't even seen particularly in a hurry to sleep with you, though that wouldn't stop you from giving it up that night.

As Joost softly snores from beside you, you can't help but want nothing more than to be fitted snuggly between his arms, head pressed to his chest- listening to his heartbeat as you fall into a deep, peaceful sleep. But your current aversion to sleeping aside, you can't bring yourself to potentially wake him to do so.

You take your eyes from him, focusing back on the harsh light that burns into your retinas, continuing your scrolling, barely distracted by another long groan leaving Joost's lips.

"Ga slapen," (go to sleep) His voice surprises you, slow and thick with sleep- you hadn't expected him to be awake.

"Hmm?" You hum, pretending to not have heard him, you set your phone down on the bedside table and focus your attention to Joost.

"Hoe lat is het?" (What time is it?) He yawns, struggling to open his eyes.

You don't want to answer, knowing he'll question you on why you're up so late.

"Go back to sleep," You coo, hoping he'll be tired enough to listen without any resistance. You reach out a hand, slowly carding your fingers through his hair. You lift some pieces that had gotten stuck to his forehead with sweat, Joost was the type to overheat in his sleep, furiously kicking the blankets off of the two of you in the middle of the night, or perhaps worse rolling over onto you while he slept, causing you to suffocate in his humid body heat.

"Nhn, nhn." He tuts, his eyes finally opening entirely, "Je kan niet zomaar (You can't just)- Nhn, You can't just rub my head back to sleep." English finally coming back to him as he sits himself up against the pillows, his head now at your shoulder height in your upright position.

"I tried," A small smile pokes at your lips.

"Why are you awake?" His questioning isn't interrogative, still clearly very sleepy as he nuzzles his head into the pillow, "What time is it?" He asks again.

"I don't know," You mumble, your voice dipping out, answering more-so the latter question.

"You can't lie to me," Joost presses his forehead to your arm, snuggling in to you. How true that was. It surprised you how fast he was able to learn you- the subtleties of your mannerisms, able to pick up on your true emotions from the smallest tells.

"It's late," You simply respond, "I'll go to bed soon." Trying to avoid any further questioning.

"Not soon," Joost whines, his voice stifled by where his lips touch your skin. He throws an arm around the front of you, "Now."

You can't do much besides sigh in response, fidgeting under the comforter to sink down to his level. Your face is right in front of Joost's now, the warmth of his slow breaths ghosting over your skin.

"Sleep now," Joost tightens the arm he had slung around you, using it to pull you closer to him. He's unbearably warm, but you melt into him anyway, turning on your side to press your chest into his.

"I can't."

"Not tired?" Joost asks, "Why not?"

"So tired."

"Then sleep." Joost puckers his lips, barely stretching out his head to press a kiss to your forehead. It's so simple to him just sleep, if only it was that easy for you.

"Can't Joost."

"Why not?" He asks again, pushing harder this time.

"Dunno," You hum, pausing for a moment trying to formulate the least embarrassing way to describe your situation, "Bad dreams I guess, I dunno." You speak quickly, hoping maybe he won't catch all of it, the processes of his brain slowed by sleep.

Joost suddenly becomes more aware, more awake, like you've said some sort of sleeper phrase to activate something in him.

"Could have just told me that, schatje." He coos, it's reassuring, and you suddenly feel so stupid for holding that in. "Could have told me that before I feel asleep without you."

"Seemed stupid." You sigh, pushing your face further into the pillow.

"Not stupid." Joost assures, "What are they about?"

"Don't know. Just- bad."

"I'm sorry." Joost frowns. You feel the arm that he holds around you sneak under the comforter, coming to snake around your torso, his hand pushing into your back to press your body closer to him. The front of your T-shirt no longer just grazing the bare skin of his chest, but rather the two of you have molded into each other. "What can I do?" His lips now pressed against your shoulder from this closer position.

"Nothing,"

"No?" He places a small kiss to your shoulder through the fabric of your shirt.

"Not unless you can go into my brain and control my subconscious and make me dream of like puppies and rainbows." You follow with a dry laughter, any real humor stifled by your exhaustion.

"Mmm, if I could I would liefje."

#my inbox 💌#current wip #joost klein x reader #joost klein rpf #rpf #joost klein fanfic #joost klein fic #heartbeat! au

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wilbraley · 3 months ago

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I’m not an active part of the Mouthwashing fandom (I hardly interact with it tbh) but I’ve been thinking about an AU for a while. Is this a Good End AU, or a Bad End AU? Who fucking knows, but I think its fun!

Summary under the cut bc it’s a bit long!

Concept: at the point where Curly is surprised for his birthday, he goes to tell the crew that they’ve been laid off by the company, but they’re interrupted by a warning over the ship’s intercom: there is a damaged ship, one from their company’s fleet, nearby. Daisuke and Anya are interested in exploring it, perhaps saving any survivors, yada yada. Most negatives are reasoned with and they securely dock to the ship.

(Logistically, is this possible? IDK! Their ship might not be one that can dock to others, it might just have an entrance, but it has a docking port for this AU!)

Once inside, they see that it is a TOTAL WRECK. Everything is in disarray and decay, there’s foam everywhere (but thank god the Pony Express ships are so uniform, this ship’s layout is so close to theirs they can figure out where to go.) and half the ship is covered in empty bottles of mouthwash they find in the cargo bay. (“Damn,” they think, “these poor chumps got this beat up toting mouthwash of all things.”) Then, they find the bodies, though by this point they’re little more than bones and detritus. Unrecognizable, but with wounds that suggest crew in-fighting. (They’re set around the table in a horrific display. They cannot figure out why.)

Most of the ship is abandoned. There are seemingly no survivors. And yet, they find someone in the cryo-pod! Still alive! And it is the most injured, fucked-up person they’ve ever seen. But hey, they’re alive, so they can keep them that way. They get back in their ship and continue their journey. Perhaps they even recover the corpses of the crew in an effort to bring someone closure. Who knows, authorities ought to be able to DNA ID the bones, at least.

Of course, the ship is the Tulpar, and thats them they found. Post-game, after years of decay, but still them. By whatever means, they’ve been sent back to the past to be dealt with. (I like the idea of a wormhole, simply because thats such a time-travel cliche when it comes to space).

And because they interrupted the birthday event, none of the crew know that they’re being laid off. Curly knows about Anya, but she hasn’t told Jimmy. Jimmy is woefully in the dark, and thus doesn’t crash-out in a couple days when they pass the meteor. Speaking of, Curly and Anya are a bit busy with the injured person and the corpses (and hey! If that gives Anya a reason to stay in the medbay, well, she isn’t complaining.) Curly feels guilty he’s keeping the layoff from his crew, but they’re in a pretty odd, stressful situation right now and they don’t need that info on top of it.

Post-game Curly is having a very bad time. He’s pretty convinced, for the first good few days he’s conscious, that he’s dreaming or hallucinating. Perhaps the cryo-pod failed, and he’s slowly dying? Perhaps he’s in hell for his sins? Either way, the people he sees are figments in his eyes, and he’s falling off the deep end. After a bit, and with some coaxing, he begins to believe that it is real, but it confuses him about what is true. It isn’t until he gets confirmation that the Curly he sees is real, that the Jimmy he sees is real, that he realizes what is happening, and he tries to communicate with the crew, to warn them about the future.

(I don’t have much in mind after this point because of how open it becomes. Literally anything is possible)

Many things could happen. Maybe Anya is still nauseous about giving Curly his pills, so she has someone - Jimmy, in the worst situation - do it for her when she’s ill (he isn’t kind to the injured man, and the injured man does not respond well to him. He gets replaced by Curly, and no matter how kind Curly is the injured man seems more upset.) Maybe someone finds the layoff notice before Curly can explain to the crew. Maybe Jimmy tries something with Anya in the medbay, but Curly stops him (finally, finally doing something for her.) Maybe Jimmy tries to tell his Curly that he really doesn’t like the injured guy, that there’s something wrong with the way he looks at him, they need to do something about that. Maybe Curly can tell Anya who he is, get her to warn her Curly to beware Jimmy, to do something about him before he does something. Maybe Anya reaches out to the others before the crash. Maybe Swansea, or Daisuke figure out who the bodies are, finally realizing that there were far too many similarities in that wrecked ship to write off. Maybe Jimmy finally snaps and attempts to sabotage the ship.

Maybe it works, and the crew are once again stuck in hell, waiting for death. Maybe the crew are ready, and he fails and is dealt with.

At least Curly can try to atone for his mistakes. At least they have an opportunity to survive.

#will i write this? probably not!#feel free to take this idea and run with it #sorry for any typos i wrote this on my phone #mouthwashing #mouthwashing au #mouthwashing anya #mouthwashing curly #mouthwashing jimmy #mouthwashing daisuke #mouthwashing swansea #time travel #time travel au #time-travel

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everyandanything · 3 months ago

Note

turning myself into a copypasta (yes even this part 😭) bc when I have a thought I need about 100 different opinions on it to feel validated so…. everyandanything I’m sorry but you’re my next victim………

thinking about musical!darry letting pony beat him up……. not fighting against him, just letting him tackle him flat on his back and pound his once soft now permanently hardened kid fists down on his chest and arms, the devastation on his face once soda intervenes, it’s the only way he thinks pony will ever be able to open up to him bc He hit him First in his own moment of grief and overwhelming frustration and so he wants pony to punish him for it if only just to get him to do something to help himself……..

resetting the scene…. *opens fic outline…who said that..* he remembers cradling a brand new ponyboy in his arms, he sees him swaddled in a pink blanket bc their parents had been expecting a girl bc they were both part of “two boys and a girl” families (#start your own lore challenge), baby pony loved to squeeze darry with that classic baby strength when he was upset and as 14 year old pony is on top of him screaming in his face bright red and teary holding the meat of his biceps with his nails a part of him sees that tiny baby again and only wants to hold him and soothe him like he used to be able to, take everything he’s ever said in the last few months back, drive himself to the store after work that day, but he can’t!!!! he’s already damaged their family too much, and if pony needs to let it all out like a baby throwing a tantrum- unable to truly express what they feel without physicality- then who the fuck is Darry to take that from him? soda is sitting at the table still, poking his dinner with the prongs of his fork and silently trying to keep himself steady as he !yet again! antagonizes their brother, struggling to swallow around the lump in his throat, he finds himself waiting for soda to jump in too, to kick him in the ribs and the back of the head. he needs it just as much as pony, he uses soda as a crutch too often and pushes him in the middle, almost resenting him for how intact he’s kept his relationship with pony while he grows farther and farther away from them both to the point he isn’t even a brother, not even a parent or an uncle, more like a principal or a jail warden or something of the like. soda is practically shaking in his seat, he’s angry and Darry wants him to be. they deserve to be angry and whatever else he’s made them bury when he’s around. he knows it’s selfish to be thinking of all of the wrong he’s done his babies when they hurt so bad, he knows, but it’s his fault really… he should’ve let pony be when he didn’t want to talk to him, he should’ve never thrown the bills at soda’s feet and rattled pony in the kitchen, he should’ve picked up his own frosting instead of begging for it for his birthday… soda slams his utensils on the table and rushes the clump of ponyboy and Darry on the living room floor, he grabs the back of pony’s shirt and pushes Darry’s shoulder until they separate. pony keeps crying in a ball as far from them both as he can get in the smaller space, and soda is trembling, arms out to keep Darry away from him and vise versa covered in tears of his own. his first brother, who he taught how to say swear words in secret in elementary school and was there when he said his first word while their parents were sleeping because he had a stomach ache that kept him up all night and he was so obsessed with watching over the baby in his room and sang him songs when he would fuss and believe him he Did, even when he was happy he would cry and cry… soda is blushing down his neck sobbing before he even gets coherent words out between them, it pulls Darry apart. he wants them to unleash it all on him so badly, he wants to rid them of their pain in any way that will work no matter the cost…. but he can’t… he can’t hardly open his mouth to talk to them as they cry now, but when he does..

/You’re our little brother and we love you. Did you hear what I just said… I said I love you./

he’s thought it plenty. he loves his brothers like no one’s ever loved anything and he’d bet the world on that. but he hasn’t said it in so long, not out loud, only when saying his prayers at night asking whatever’s even out there for some fucking good fortune and good luck for once, not even for him just for them…

ponyboy glances up out of the crook of his elbow and then covers his ears. he’s still so small, he’s barely a real teenager… soda’s shoulders drop like weight is shedding off of him little by little, he holds Darry’s arm like it’s the only thing he needs to keep himself upright or he’ll fall over and die right there, resting the side of his face against his bicep. soda is getting big, he’ll be 18 in a year, but he still feels like a baby… his first brother, the littlest forever in his eyes. Darry wants to scoop them up and say it again and again, to make up for everything he’s already said and done, to dig it into their heads that he loves them so much it makes him feel sick and it’ll never change even if pony still hates him in the morning and soda finally gives up on keeping him sane.

there’s a knock at the door and he stops talking, both of his brothers scrambling to different corners. Darry stays on the floor a second longer to catch his breath.

#KeepTorturingDarryCurtis …… who said that 😟

( also!!!!!! I LOVED born a grease I was sitting up every night checking the outsiders fandom tag waiting for new chapters with the power of believing and I’m so sad it’s ended but also so happy that you’ve gotten so much love bc it was incredible </3 )

Anon you can’t just drop something like this in my ask box and run. Just shatter my heart and then leave the scene of the crime, come back! I have so many questions for you!! I could read a million more words of this!!

But ughhh you totally get Darry’s self loathing and anger towards himself especially at this point in the story, like the lines “it’s the only way he thinks pony will ever be able to open up to him bc He hit him First in his own moment of grief and overwhelming frustration and so he wants pony to punish him for it if only just to get him to do something to help himself” and “he finds himself waiting for soda to jump in too, to kick him in the ribs and the back of the head.” and “he should’ve let pony be when he didn’t want to talk to him, he should’ve never thrown the bills at soda’s feet and rattled pony in the kitchen, he should’ve picked up his own frosting instead of begging for it for his birthday” are so it.

AND THEN!!! Pair it with this: “he loves his brothers like no one’s ever loved anything and he’d bet the world on that.”

Like that’s it!! You're so right. That’s 100% darry. He loves his brothers and would do anything for them, sure he doesn’t always know how to express it, sure sometimes it comes out angry, sure he’s tired and drained and and the world hasn’t treated him fair, but he loves Soda and Pony, he’s given up everything for them, and yet all he can see are all the ways he fails them. He loves them “like no one’s ever loved anything” and yet he thinks he deserves nothing but hate and anger from both of them for all the ways he’s wronged them. He can’t imagine a world where either of his brothers love him back, because in his mind, he doesn’t deserve it. Everything that's gone wrong for his brothers, even down to his parents death, is his fault. And why should they love someone that does nothing but make their lives worse?

Anon I’m so serious write like a million more things about the Curtis brothers and I’ll be sat every single time. This is so so good.

(and thank you for the kind words, so glad you enjoyed born a grease!! 🫶🏻🥹 but most of all thank you for sending this to my ask! Don't know what I did to get Darry angst just hand delivered to my inbox like the morning news but this was lovely and soul crushing all at once. Seriously would love to read more of your writing !!! ).

#the outsiders #the outsiders musical #the outsiders 1983 #darry curtis #outsiders fanfiction #thank you for this anon !!!

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specific-dreamer · 3 months ago

Note

oh you want more⁉️ once the can of worms is open they’ll be crawling up your walls for days 👹👹👹👹👹 I’m crazy and deranged especially about one darrel curtis jr in particular 👹👹👹👹

/You’re our little brother and we love you. Did you hear what I just said… I said I love you./

there’s a knock at the door and he stops talking, both of his brothers scrambling to different corners. Darry stays on the floor a second longer to catch his breath.

……. well…. I’m not even going to try rereading that.. goodnight !!!!!!

it’s 942am and this is what i wake up to. anon im not even in your walls anymore. i’m sitting on your couch waiting to jump you.

i’m going to eat you anon. i’m in tears man 😭

#i’m going back to sleep #fuck man what’s ur ao3 #this was #hmph #ps i love ur lore omg #sodas first words being when he’s sick and needs his big brother ☹️#stealing that ty #that’s the only thing keeping you from being grounded btw #the outsiders #darry curtis #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #the outsiders broadway #outsiders musical #the outsiders headcanons #anon

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assaily · 2 years ago

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Been a while since I’ve posted anything fic related, but I’m not sure if I’ve ever talked about this fic before.

The basic premise is the Handler/Commission put some kind of kill switch in Five that would slowly destroy his body planned obsolescence style in the event that he ever successfully defected. It’s essentially a sickfic and another one of those no sparrow, no season 3 au’s bc i wrote this a year and a half ago and the season wasn’t even out yet. I found it again this morning bc I finally had some thoughts for it after all this time.

Anyway, here is some gratuitous angst and Diego cuddling Five. CW for mild suicidal ideation.

---

Five looked miserable. Pale and shivering, he looked so frail and small, so old and young at the same time. Diego wasn’t a fan, he didn’t want to be in the room any longer than he had to. The space heater next to the bed was blasting like a Mojave wind, and still Five shivered quietly on his bed.

Five didn’t complain, not even to inform them he was cold. He hadn’t complained this whole time, and maybe that’s what was getting to Diego. Five was miserable, it was obvious he was hurting, it was obvious he was struggling just to stay conscious enough to mechanically munch on his peanut butter crackers. But he didn’t say a thing.

A cracker was left half-eaten between two fingers, his head drooped and his eyes slipped shut. He slumped into himself, still shivering. Diego frowned, slapping his knees as he stood from the armchair. “Alright.”

His voice startled Five, likely having forgotten he was there again. He flinched, head popping up, bloodshot eyes confused and darting before landing on Diego’s face. The relief was palpable, his shoulders slumping, something relaxing in the pinch of his expression.

“Diego,” he croaked.

“Yeah, just me bud.”

“Are you leaving?” He tried to make it sound like an innocent question, tried his damndest to keep his inflection flat, Diego could tell. But he could also hear the quiet fear burbling beneath it.

“No,” he lied, and almost sat back down again.

Five nodded and seemed to remember his cracker. He nibbled on the corner of it again, his arm shaking with that little effort. “It’s not stale,” he remarked, hardly above a whisper. It was the third time he’d said that about the cracker and every time it struck at something soft in Diego’s chest.

“Fresh crackers, just for you.”

“Fresh…” he rolled the word around in his mouth like he was tasting it. “Where’d you find them?”

“The store on fifth.”

Five nodded slowly, processing. The last two times that was the end of the conversation. Diego hoped it would be the end of this one too, but then Five looked over at him, a stark confusion breaking through the dead-eyed exhaustion. “Isn’t the roof…?” he made a fluttery motion with his hand, dropping crumbs into his lap.

“Roof is fine, Five.”

He shook his head, brow pinching. “No, I remember it collapsed.” He paused, Diego at a loss for how to answer. “There’s a pharmacy on tenth, it still has stuff. There might be medicine there.”

“We have medicine for you,” Diego said, gesturing at the table with the small battery of bottles atop it.

Five looked over at it, expression falling blank as he failed to process something. He stared for too long, unblinking and unmoving, that Diego figured he’d lost him again. Lights on, but no one was home.

“I hurt,” Five sighed at long last, breaking the silence and his stillness with another shiver.

Diego chuffed a surprised laugh. “I bet you do.”

“I’m done,” he said softly. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Diego swallowed down the lump that jumped into his throat. Five didn’t complain, not about the pain, the confusion, the exhaustion.

Five shivered again, cracker forgotten.

Diego couldn’t stand it anymore. “Okay, okay.” He needed to do something, anything to help. He couldn’t just stand there watching Five in misery, watching over him as he got worse and worse, as even the pills and syrups and whatever pain meds Mom tried to give him failed to do a goddamn thing.

“Are you still cold?”

Five looked up at the question, considering him for a solid ten seconds before nodding clumsily. “It’s winter,” he said as if that explained everything.

Diego didn’t have the heart to tell him it was the dead of August. “I’m cold too,” he said, reaching down to turn the heater off. Diego was sure Five didn’t even know what the damn thing was but his shivering took on a new ferocity the moment the coils darkened. He looked confused, lost and as Diego approached the bedside, suddenly defensive. His arms curled over his chest, jaw clenching, pulling himself back as if he could get away from Diego.

“You’re not--” he started, aborted with his mouth open, eyes darting around the room. “Wait, I don’t--”

Diego crouched at the bedside, realizing he was looming a little. “You’re okay, it’s just me.” He reached out, careful to keep his palm up and gesture slow. Five watched his hand, pulling back from him as he tried to touch his arm. “It’s just me,” he repeated.

Five didn’t complain, and he never talked about why he was so damn untrusting of them in his confused state. Diego didn’t want to think about who could have planted that mistrust and why. He knew why. He’d spent enough time with Lila. He’d met her mother. The first person Five interacted with in decades. Diego would have trust issues too.

“Diego,” Five said flatly, more an affirmation than anything else.

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing here?”

He almost wanted to know where ‘here’ was for Five. Somewhere cold, somewhere beyond the end of the world, somewhere lost in his own past. “I’m here to save you.” It sounded stupid coming out of his mouth, feeling it burn in his eyes.

Five paused for half a second, something in his eyes growing sharper than it had in days. Then he laughed, a single mournful guffaw that threw his head back and nearly toppled him back into his pillows. “Save me?” he asked, incredulous. “How? You’re dead, remember?” He smiled wide, shoulders shaking with more than just cold. “You’re dead.” His mirth turned to grief in a second, his expression twisting into honest fury if he’d had the strength. “You can’t save me,” he spat. “I have to save you.”

Diego reached across the bed and put his hand over Five’s arm. His skin was cold as ice, his wrist sharp and bony under Diego’s palm. “You already saved us.”

Five’s anger was smothered by the touch on his arm, his entire attention drawn to it. He opened his mouth, but only a half-aborted burst of air made it out.

Diego didn’t waste time. With the heater off, Five had nothing keeping him warm and Diego didn’t dare let him go now. “I’m cold, too.” Diego said again, catching Five’s attention back to his face and voice.

“I’m cold,” Five said, and Diego couldn’t tell if he was saying a truth or just repeating the last thing he heard.

“Let me in there, then.”

“Huh?”

Diego didn’t wait for him to figure it out. He half-stood, slipping his shoes off and dragging back the covers in one move. He pulled himself under the blankets, one arm around Five’s shoulders, the other making sure his brother was still covered.

“What are you--” Five realized half-way through the sentence that Diego was warm. The question forgotten, Five pressed himself into Diego’s side, shivering fiercely. “Oh,” he sighed, hands finding warm places to shove themselves into.

“Yeah, thought you might like this better.” Even though the old man would never admit it in his entire life. Neither would Diego. No one was home to see this blatant display of affection, so Diego could deal. He was pretty sure Five wasn’t going to remember a thing about this later.

He flicked the half-cracker to the floor, got himself comfortable, Five slumping more and more of his weight against him. His shivering was easy to feel, his whole body so cold. This wasn’t normal, and it settled uncomfortably in Diego’s gut. He wrapped his tiny older brother in his arms, tucking him against his chest to lay on the pillows together.

It took a while for the shivering to subside, took even longer for Five’s breathing to ease and his body to relax. “Diego,” he whispered, so quietly Diego nearly missed it.

He hummed, letting it rumble in his chest so Five could hear it where his ear was pressed against him.

“Diego,” he said again, and that was all. Nothing else to it, but Diego understood this time. An affirmation of gratitude in a whispered little tone, hidden every time he said their names. He’d fought so hard for them, and now Diego couldn’t stop imagining him when he was actually thirteen, alone and starving and whispering their names, putting everything into surviving so he could see them again. So he could come home.

It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t even have that.

Diego held him a little tighter, frail and bony and so, so cold. “You’re gonna be alright.” He was going to get better.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Five said softly, still below that careful whisper.

A laugh burst from Diego, surprised and a little wet. He swallowed the burning lump in his throat and closed his eyes so the tears would roll away and get lost on the pillow. “Thanks.”

“Don’t cry over me.”

Diego couldn’t answer that, couldn’t hold him any tighter, he could already feel his bones creaking. “You’ll be okay.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Go to sleep.”

“I’ll wake up,” he promised.

Diego let out the breath he was holding like a balloon, eyes clouding. “Shut up and go to sleep.” It wasn’t even a fear, he refused to acknowledge it.

“I’m not worth… all this.”

“Shut up.” Diego gripped the back of his neck, too hard at first, making Five tense. He softened his hold, kneading his thumb into the muscle, feeling Five’s heart fluttering that awful off-rhythm beat against his fingertips. “Were we ever worth all that?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “You were.”

Diego shook his head, his chest aching, scratching gently into Five’s scalp. “You’re a part of this family, too.”

Five didn’t answer. He didn’t rebuke, didn’t affirm. Diego could feel him thinking about it, and hoped somewhere in that muddled little head of his that he’d at least internalize that. How could someone who loved so hard think he deserved so little in return. It wasn’t fair.

No more fair than how hard Five had to fight, only to die a few months after achieving it all. No, Diego refused. Five wasn’t going to die. Not yet, not this year or this decade. Five did everything in his power to protect them. It was time someone stepped up and did the same for him.

#in case it wasn't obvious i have a serious soft spot for Diego taking care of a semi-delirious Five #i mean Five being taken care in general but this specific flavor of it appears to be a favorite of mine lol #tua #the umbrella academy #fanfic #fic snips and bloopers #tua fanfic #tua fic #Five Hargreeves #my stuff #my fics #planned obsolescence #i considered saving this for masked author/artist coming up but i doubt this will be any condition for AO3 by may #and i feel like i'd get clocked so fast posting something like this #also i have a shit memory and i already had a planned obso tag so now im worried i;ve posted this before and have simply forgotten #if i did tumblr ate it #hope y'all enjoy :)

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sister-lucifer · 2 years ago

Text

*Read og inspo post here*

A/N: Had a dream about this. Decided to write it. The descriptions of Miss Melanie are very in depth bc that’s how she was in my dream teehee 🤭

Genre: Smut

Summary: You sneak away at a rich acquaintance’s party, and get found by his maid who seems to take an interest in you beyond the professional bounds…

Content/Warnings: Trans masc Reader, Reader is post top surgery, descriptions of overstimulating situations, Reader is referred to as a ‘good boy,’ oral, fingering, subby Reader, praise, whiny Reader, use of the words ‘cunt’ and ‘pussy’

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

The absolute regret you’re feeling right now is enough to make you question every decision that got you here.

You were never one to party, or be very social, but you figured it wouldn’t hurt anything to accept an invitation from a friend of a friend of a friend, right?

Wrong.

You’d gasped aloud when you pulled up to the shockingly lavish mansion, now pulsing and shaking with music and strobing lights. Everywhere you look there’s some new visual acid searing your eyes, making your head spin and pound with an oncoming migraine. The massive house is built like a labyrinth, impossible to navigate on a good day, let alone in such an unbearable crowd.

You’re being led completely by instinct as you squeeze past one person after another. When you finally manage to free yourself from the sea of people, you only manage a few steps before you have to collapse against the wall. The music is still ringing loud in your ears and thumping deep in your chest, but at least you have your personal space back. It gives you enough sense back to steady your breathing as you look around for somewhere to go.

Your knees tremble as you stand, balancing yourself against the wall with one hand and unsteadily gripping your drink in the other. You hardly even feel yourself move as you make your way towards a darkened hallway hidden away behind a pillar and a probably fake giant houseplant. Someone might’ve called your name, but you didn’t care enough to turn around.

The relief you feel when the shadows free you from the harsh light of the designated party room is immense. Without thinking you walk further down the hallway, the entire passage still well lit by the glow of the party. You back up against the dead end wall, resting against it with a sigh. Your hair is sticking to your sweaty forehead and face and has to be pushed back before you take a sip from your still cold drink. Your hands are shaking a bit, but you calm down a bit more with each second that goes by.

You aren’t sure what to do. You want to leave, but how? You’d have to walk all the way back through that mess of a crowd again, and you’d feel bad leaving without saying goodbye to the host.

But if you stayed, you’d be trapped in this overcrowded hell for who knows how long before you felt comfortable going back to the main room.

Your fingers tap against your glass restlessly, your eyes fixed on the distant mass of shadowy silhouettes that are the other guests. Your heartbeat has finally began to slow, no longer painfully thrumming in your ears. Everything has slowed down a bit now. You have some sense of calm back, at least for now.

You try to take in the well-earned solitude as much as you can. Your head tilts back to rest against the wall, and you allow your eyes to flutter shut. You loosen your tie as you swallow thickly, feeling your Adam’s apple bob against your knuckles.

It feels like an eternity before you can open your eyes again, but nothing has changed. You take another drink before setting your glass on a nearby end table.

With your eyes cast towards the ground and mind preoccupied, you don’t notice someone emerging from the room behind you.

“Hey there, enjoying the party?”

The voice is gentle, merely inquisitive, and yet it makes you flinch and spin around as if you’d just heard a gun cocking. You weren’t sure what you expected to see when you turned, but you were surprised nonetheless.

The woman before you is nearly a head and shoulders taller, looking down at you with a sincere smile. Her deep brown eyes reflect the bright pink and blue lights leaking into the hallway from the party. Her hair is the same dark hue and looks as though it’s been dyed at the ends, although what may have once been a vibrant pink has long since faded to a muddy magenta. It’s curly too, falling in thick waves around her face and covering her shoulders. Her long sleeved blouse is as black as her skirt, which stops right between her knees and her ankles. There’s a crooked apron tied around her waist that’s certainly seen cleaner days and even has a few stitches around the edges.

You struggle for a response for a few moments, completely dumbstruck by the sudden appearance of someone so…

Enchanting.

She’s beautiful in a nearly surreal manner, and you have to blink a few times to make sure she isn’t just an exhaustion induced hallucination.

“Everything alright, sir?” She asks, bending down slightly to be closer to your eye level. You can see now that her canines are a bit sharper and stick out a bit more than they should, which must be what’s causing that subtle lisp.

You nod, mouth hanging open in a rather foolish manner. You could kick yourself for being so easily flustered. All she did was greet you, after all.

“That’s good.” She continues, “Figured I’d make sure since you’re back here all alone and all.”

“Y…Yeah…” Is the only whisper of a response you can manage.

She leans against the wall nonchalantly, watching the party from the limited view you have at the end of the hall.

“I’m Melanie, by the way.”

“Melanie…” You echo back before replying with your name in turn.

“Nice to meet you, hun. How are you liking the party so far?”

The casual nickname makes your heart skip a beat.

“It’s, u-uh…it’s nice…I just haven’t been to a party in a long time…”

“Is that why you’re hiding?”

The question is lighthearted, but it still makes you feel a bit embarrassed. She seems to take notice, letting out a laugh from behind her hand.

“I’m just poking fun at ya, I get it. Parties here can get crazy. I’ve had to clean up after a lot of them. You don’t wanna know what people leave behind.”

You can’t help but giggle at that, and she grins in return.

She takes a step towards you, reaching out with black acrylic tipped fingers to brush off your shoulder. You didn’t mean to let that sound slip past your lips, but she didn’t react, so you could only hope she didn’t hear it.

“You sure you’re alright? You seem stressed…a bit warm, too…”

She lays a hand on your cheek, and this time there was no hiding your gasp.

She pulled away slowly, letting her nails drag on your cheek.

“Aha, sorry, I’m being a bit doting, aren’t I? It’s become a habit. I’m supposed to be ‘the help’ after all.”

“Y-You’re a maid?”

You didn’t really mean to ask such a blunt question. Fortunately, Melanie took no offense.

“If that’s what you call it. This house is just too big for one person to take care of…speaking of ‘taking care,’ would you let me hang up your coat? It’ll cool you off.”

You’re slipping off your suit jacket before you even nod. It’s embarrassing how quick you are to obey her, even if she was only giving a suggestion.

Her hands slide from your shoulders down to your wrists before she pulls away with your jacket, hanging it on a coat rack that you didn’t even realize was there until just now. Her touch feels like lighting through your veins, making you shudder when she’s not looking.

Maybe you were just imagining it, but you swear you saw her look you up and down as she turned back to you.

Suddenly you’re feeling very underdressed.

Part of you is screaming that she’s doing it on purpose, that she’s trying to flirt with you, but you can’t be sure yet. You don’t want to misread her and screw up the first good thing that’s happened to you tonight. You need to wait for a more obvious sign.

She reaches up to smooth down your button up, her warm hands resting on your shoulders for a moment before lazily sliding down your chest and pausing once more when they’ve fallen to your hips.

“You look handsome in this, you know. Do you wear this often?”

Her smooth, sensual voice makes your mouth go dry.

If this wasn’t an obvious sign, then nothing would be.

“N…No, I-I don’t…I don’t really, um…go to parties…” Your tone is much too meek for your liking. The shake in your voice is impossible to miss.

“Aw, that’s too bad…that makes this a lucky encounter, then.”

Lucky is an understatement.

Never before has anyone made you feel so vulnerable and yet so comfortable. You’re not averted by her touch the way you would be a stranger, and something in her eyes tells you to be calm. You lean into her palm when she brings it up to cradle your face.

“I’m not…used to…this— I-I mean I don’t usually….” You stutter shyly, trying to avoid looking her in the eyes.

“Oh, I can tell, sweetheart.” She replies with a small pat to your cheek. “But that’s alright. I’m here to help, after all.”

Both of her hands are holding your face now, and she’s suddenly much closer than she should be. She’s leaning in towards your parted lips, but she pauses just a couple inches away.

“You okay?” Melanie asks. Her words are warm against your skin.

You nod wordlessly, but she doesn’t move.

“Say it.” She orders.

“…Yes.”

This satisfies her, and finally she closes the gap. You instinctively reach out to hold onto her, and your hands hesitantly come to rest on her waist. She silently encourages you by laying a hand over yours and giving a small squeeze.

Melanie’s lipstick is smeared over your mouth when she pulls away, but she’s not going to tell you that. You’d wash it off then, and she wants to enjoy this sight a little longer.

A gentle thumb runs over your bottom lip, and you’re more than willing to let her slip it into your mouth. She plants one more kiss on your forehead, leaving another smudged mark of dark mauve on your hot skin.

“What do you say we get away from this party for a bit, hm?”

You answer as best you can around her finger, but she understands just fine. Before you know it she’s pulling you along by the wrist, ducking into a bathroom and locking the door behind you. She pushes you against the wall, and you don’t put up any fight.

She removes your already loosened tie before turning her attention to your shirt. She skillfully undoes each button within seconds, allowing her to take in the view of your bare chest. You can tell she takes note of the scars, even runs a careful finger over one of them, but it doesn’t seem to change her mind about anything.

She’s on her knees now, set to work on your pants, but she stops to look up at you. The sight makes your heart flutter.

“You still alright?”

You know to answer verbally this time, but you aren’t ready for the words that come out.

“Y-Yes, Miss…”

The use of such a title earns you a kiss right below your navel. This time you see the pigmented mark it leaves, but you make no moves to wipe it off. Part of you never wants to.

“Good boy.”

God, you could cum just from that.

Her hands grip onto your waist, keeping your trembling body still while her teeth find your zipper. You fail stifle a groan as she slowly tugs it downward. You feel the fabric sliding down your legs, but you’re too focused on Melanie to look down to see.

A series of gentle kisses are pressed to the inside of your thighs, each one more faded than the last. She hasn’t even made a move to slip off your underwear, but your thighs are already quivering. You have to resist the urge to press them tight together.

When she finally hooks a finger under the waistband, you whine. She shushes you gently, but you both know there’s no possibility you’ll be able to keep quiet.

The now soaking fabric is finally pulled way from your cunt. You bite down hard on your lip when you see Melanie lick her lips at the sight. Her gaze doesn’t falter for even a moment as her mouth finally makes contact with your aching pussy.

Your sharp yelp reverberates off the bathroom walls, and you can feel the vibrations of her brief laugh. There’s no doubt in your mind that she’s done this before; no one this skilled is doing it for the first time. Or maybe you’re just so sensitive that it feels that way.

It doesn’t matter, you aren’t complaining.

You press yourself hard against the cold tile wall for support, unable to place much trust in your shaking legs. You’d be squirming pathetically if Melanie wasn’t holding you still.

She’s making a show of eating you out, moaning and slurping in an almost dramatic manner. It’s embarrassingly lewd, but you don’t want her to stop. If you had the ability to speak you’d ask for more, but anything you try to say devolves into a moan as it leaves your lips.

Your hesitant hand hovers over her, unsure of what to do. You want to tangle your fingers in her hair, to push her against you, but you don’t want to be too forceful. Carefully you let your palm come to rest on her head, and almost immediately she pulled it down by your wrist. She’s encouraging you as best she could with her mouth occupied. You can take the hint.

You test the waters a bit, pushing your hips forward and into her mouth. You aren’t expecting to suddenly feel her tongue make its way deep inside of you, warm and wet and squirming against your most sensitive spots. Your grip on Melanie’s hair tightens at the feeling, eliciting a pleasured moan from her.

Suddenly she’s pulling away from your cunt, and you can see that her lips and chin are soaking wet. You miss the feeling of her tongue already, but before you can say anything she’s filling you with two of her fingers. Your back arches from the sudden intrusion, but after a few moments you relax once more with a sigh.

“If you’re gonna pull my hair you gotta do it like a man, alright big boy?”

You barely process the words over the feeling of her fingers pumping in and out of you.

“Yes…Yes Miss…”

You give another tug, a bit harder this time but still uncertain.

“Harder.” She demands, “Do it like I’m asking you to, and I’ll use my mouth again.”

This is the encouragement you need. The sudden pull is rougher than you meant for it to be, but judging by Melanie’s cry of bliss, that’s exactly what she wanted. In return she upholds her end of the deal, latching onto your swollen clit as she pushes in a third finger.

Any sense of restraint you had before is gone now. You don’t care enough to even try and keep quiet anymore, letting every needy sound spill from your lips for Melanie to hear, and she’s taking in all of it. Every time you yank her hair her moans send wonderful vibrations up your cunt, emboldening you more and more.

“Oh please, please, please…” You repeat under your heavy breath. You’re not completely sure what you’re begging for, but Melanie seems to know. Each time her fingers push in they hit deeper than before, curling into all the right places and making you squeeze around her digits with each vulgar squelch.

You hardly have time to warn her when you realize your orgasm is fast approaching. You’re so overwhelmed you can hardly even choke out her name.

“M-Miss—! Miss Melanie, I-I—! I’m g-gonna…!”

She makes a muffled noise that’s probably supposed to be a response, but it doesn’t matter what she said. She’s eagerly inviting you to finish with her mouth and you’re on no position to refuse.

Both of your hands are gripping her curls now as you grind against her mouth. The only thing occupying your mind right now is finding your peak, and there’s no hiding your desperation. Your whimpers become shrill and choked up, your entire body tensing and shuddering with the sudden force of your orgasm. You practically throw yourself back against the wall with one last broken cry.

Melanie doesn’t pull away until you ask her to, making sure that she’s thoroughly milked your orgasm before she removes her mouth with a wet pop.

She moves to the side to allow you to slide down against the wall. You flinch at the cold tile floor against your bare buttocks and thighs, but it feels good to have the weight taken off your legs.

Melanie tilts your head towards her, leaning in for a wet, sloppy kiss. You can taste yourself on her lips and her tongue which she eagerly slips into your mouth. Your lips lazily part for her, kissing back to the best of your ability with what little strength you have left. When she pulls away, there’s a string of saliva connecting your mouths.

“Tastes sweet, huh?”

You nod with a slurred reply and a lopsided grin. Melanie giggles through tight lips, pressing her forehead to yours as she strokes your cheek. Her free hand lays on your thigh, absentmindedly tracing shapes into the soft skin.

“It seems like you enjoyed yourself, sweet boy,” She says, but you don’t get to confirm before she continues:

“You have to return the favor now, you know.”

mdni & reblog banners by cafekitsune

#smut #male reader #male reader smut #oc x reader #trans masc reader #oc smut #sub reader #original character #oc #fem oc #praise #masc reader

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fatelcved · 1 year ago

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does cyrillo have a favorite place in the world? does he like sunsets or sunrises more? does he actively seek out romance or does he avoid it? how does his space look like? what memory does he revisit most often?

unprompted | @metrictita asks about cyrillo!

does cyrillo have a favorite place in the world?

he loves the sea! he grew up in a port town, so he has a lot of nostalgia for beaches and the ocean. if we want to get really specific, then i would have to say the first house cyrillo owned with his wife, which laid on the southern coast not very far from the dreki's land. it was a little fishing town with few people, but it's where he met his wife and had his daughter. the place itself was modest, but the scenery was beautiful and the memories were precious; he hasn't returned to that town because he fears his memory of it won't hold up, or perhaps he'll find that his home no longer exists the way he remembers. kinda like in that thread we're writing :' )

does he like sunsets or sunrises more?

hmm, i think he likes sunsets more bc as a boy, he didn't have time in the mornings to appreciate sunrises bc he was either helping his father with work or sleeping. but sunsets always signaled the end of a tiring day, and the way the different shades of orange and pink would turn the clouds and sands the same pretty colors never failed to dazzle him. i think the same can be said for cyrillo now -- he hardly has time in the mornings to appreciate a sunrise, but he can find a little time to stare at a sunset in the evening and take a breath.

does he actively seek out romance or does he avoid it?

cyrillo somewhat avoids it? but if it happens, he doesn't necessarily resist it. he tends to more so feel out the other person and how serious they really are about him because he has a demanding job. if someone can't compromise with him or understand that his job is kinda?? his " baby, " then the relationship won't work out in the long run. protecting and advocating for vampires has been cyrillo's reason for existing for over a century, so it'll be a big issue if the other person can't be on board with it. that being said!! he does tend to discourage advances if he thinks they stem from superficial interest, but if there's a deeper connection, he won't fight that. he'll just approach it with care and a lot of thought.

how does his space look like?

weeping at the thought of it bc cyrillo's work clearly bleeds into his personal spaces like his bedroom. stacks of documents occupy his bedside table and desk; tomes about politics and customs in different countries are on his bookshelves rather than fictional novels; and ultimately, his space ( work or personal ) is messy and chaotic. the only reason it keeps a semblance of organization is because kaiya comes in after him and tidies up, knowing it'll take a weight off of cyrillo's shoulders if she does. decoration-wise, cyrillo is partial towards dark woods, rich colors, and minimal ornaments -- gold and silver lose their luster if they're flaunted everywhere. you'll also find artwork from various parts of the world ( quite a few depicting the ocean ) lining the walls of his manor but a surprising lack of any idols. cyrillo prefers to keep bias towards any one god to himself as he feels religion should be kept separate from the ideals of his coven and work. his actions are dictated by morals and not by the gods.

what memory does he revisit most often?

we sure are digging deep, huh :' )) honestly, i have a feeling that cyrillo tries to stop himself from dwelling too much on his memories bc he knows how easy it is to be swept up in the nostalgia and the following melancholy. he can never go back. he can yearn as much as he wants, but that will never change. still, i think he revisits one of the nights prior to his joining the army? or maybe prior to being caught after deserting the army? regardless, it's just a simple moment with his family. it's eating a dinner of fish caught in the river near town and vegetables bought at the market with his family, talking as if the world wasn't in shambles. it's eating apple tarts for dessert, and watching his little girl's face light up because it was her favorite. it's feeling his wife hold his face in her hands once their girl is asleep, and it's hearing her tell him it's going to be alright. no matter what comes next. it's torture to return to that day, but he goes back to it time and again because it's one of the last memories he has of them all together and so happy. it's the last memory he has of feeling safe. not that he feels unsafe now, per se, but cyrillo can't relax really. he can never assume anyone's intentions are simply good, can never go anywhere unprepared for the unexpected. he can't rest like he could then. i'm rambling a lil now but :' ) you asked the question vee :' ))))

#metrictita #thank you so much for this and for the other asks vee <3 you're too kind for doing that and i appreciate it from the bottom of my heart!!!#i hope i didn't ramble too much for ya :' )) i spoke more than i even expected tbh!! but i've been feeling really soft for cyrillo lately #so this is what you get hehe #headcanons | cyrillo

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lotties-ashwagandha · 3 years ago

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hello

I heard that you are receiving requests, So, I wanted to see if you could make a Reader x Misty Fanfic.

You know, a reunion between Reader and Misty, after Michael frees her; full of fluff and happy tears, please 🌈

i love this request sooo much misty is one of my fav characters ever <3 asexual autistic goddess

CRY FOR THE NIGHTBIRD

pairing: misty day x reader

word count: 1004

notes and warnings: idk death? sorry this took forever i literally have no excuses except for executive dysfunction lol we love autism. title from “nightbird” by stevie nicks bc misty deserves some stevie after being in hell lol

taglist (if you’d like to be added or taken off, let me know!): @cordeliass @traumatisedfangirl @devriesgoode

You woke again in an empty bed.

Once again, you reached for her, and she was not there. It had been years since she had last been beside you, yet she had carved herself gently into your soul, and her memory would never leave you.

It would have been easier if you’d gotten stuck instead – maybe you had, for living without Misty was its own hell.

It was useless to say that if you could take away her pain in a moment, you would, for such a sacrifice would not show even half of the love you had for her.

You forced your eyes open, blinded by the light sneaking through the protection of the curtains. You’d almost forgotten what day it was, though as soon as you felt the pain of the brightness stinging your eyes, it came rushing back to you.

The paralyzing terror, the indescribable rage, all of it came crashing into you. That day Michael Langdon would attempt to execute the Seven Wonders.

You never wanted to hear any mention of the test ever again – yet there you would be, watching every moment of it unfold, remembering the way you had returned from Hell and Misty had not.

You could still remember the way she faded in your arms. The weightlessness that took her as ashes overcame her, dissipating into nothingness.

From that day you had been utterly alone.

A knock at your door startled you. You looked at the clock on your night table – sure enough, you were late, which was hardly surprising anymore.

You did not have to open the door to know it was Cordelia waiting for her. She had tried – all of the witches had tried – to fill the absence that Misty’s death had left you with, and you knew they had better intentions than you would ever comprehend, yet all you wished for was solitude. If not Misty, not a soul could reach you.

Just as you could still see the ashes that were left of her, you could see the peace in her eyes that never left. You could feel her arms around you, the perpetual warmth that carried you through the day left from a single embrace.

No one could ever compare.

Her shadow followed you, and you would be cursed with it until your death.

–

You could hardly pay attention to any of it. The day was going excessively slow yet at the same time was flying by at the speed of light. You had gotten lost in so many memories that you could hardly tell what was real and what had already happened.

You could see Misty everywhere, in everyone, in everything. In the look Cordelia would give you that silently asked if you were alright, in the witch who had been humming a Fleetwood Mac song on the way to the warlocks’ academy.

And when Michael Langdon descended into Hell, everything came back in full force.

You felt her body dissolve in your arms. You felt her leave you once more.

Again, you were cursed in the empty bed, reaching for someone you would never feel again.

Her eyes. The gaze you would never again meet. The love you would never again feel.

Yet then, something shifted – you could not determine what it was, but something had changed dramatically, as if all of a sudden the planet had begun to spin in the opposite direction and you had been flung into space. The entire course of fate had changed, and the change was irrevocable.

And there she was. Laying in the center of the room, as if this had always been planned, but a glitch in time had delayed her return for years.

You hardly processed that you ran to her, that your knees would be bruised for weeks from the impact of throwing yourself to the floor to be at her side.

You only knew that she was there with you once more. Her touch was real, and she radiated the warm energy of the sun. her eyes met yours, as if for the very first time again, and the memory of her would never compare to how it felt to hold her, to be in her presence.

“Am I…” she asked, clutching your wrist, glancing around carefully.

You nodded, choking on your words. Tears obscured your vision, tears of a joy you would never describe. “You’re alive,” you promised, “and you’re safe.”

You embraced her, and the comfort you found in her arms would stay with you for the rest of your life. The safety you had experienced only in memory for longer than you could remember was finally present once more.

Every fear you had disappeared in that moment. Nothing could separate the two of you anymore. Death had tried its hardest, yet it had failed, and even if the two of you perished in what was to come, you would perish together, in each other’s arms.

She wiped your tears away.

She renewed your existence.

Such a comfort you had never known before.

–

That night, in the safety of the academy’s walls, you sighed contentedly as Misty laid almost on top of you, one of her arms draped over your waist.

“I never stopped thinking of you,” she whispered abruptly. You had been stroking her hair, yet you froze. Misty’s voice was shaky from crying. “Every moment I was stuck there, all I wished for was to be with you.”

“I would have given anything for you to be with me,” you promised. “I would have traded places with you.”

“I know… I’m glad you didn’t, though. If you were there, if you had felt that pain, I never would have been able to live with it.”

You almost started crying again, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too. More than you know. And I’ll never leave you again. I promise.”

And the weightlessness you felt was no longer a product of death – it was of hope.

#misty day #misty day x reader #ahs #ahs coven #lily rabe #lily rabe x reader #stevie nicks #fleetwood mac #autistic characters #asexual character #wild heart album #american horror story #cordelia goode #foxxay #mistelia #goodeday #ahs apocalypse #ahs hotel #cordelia foxx

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missmonsters2 · 3 years ago

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I would like to request part three of “what’s one kiss between friends” It’s one of my favourite AU’s.

iii. What's One Little Kiss Between Friends

youtube

iii: party of our own

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Note: I'm so glad it's your fav AU bc me too. Listening to the song is essential to this drabble.

College AU set. Feel free to request the next part in my inbox!

I've decided I'm into this drabble series and it'll be dubbed What's One Little Kiss Between Friends Wednesday 💘

part i || part ii

Count: <1k (literally 999)

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Hey, beautiful, you alone tonight?"

Natasha barely looked at the guy before she replied with a curt, "No."

"Right…" he answered before he awkwardly slinked away.

The interaction didn't bother Natasha in the slightest. People could tell she wasn't in the mood tonight. She stood in the back, leaning against the wall with a red solo cup in hand with some kind of fruity drink she didn't enjoy.

She looked over in the distance to where Bucky was and grimaced at how he was sucking face with his ex, Dotty. Watching her ex with his own ex wasn't exactly putting her in a good mood.

What was even worse was that her eyes kept drifting back to you.

It seemed tonight was just a night of reuniting with exes.

Natasha watched as you stood there talking with Maria and grimaced behind her cup. Why were you bothering with Maria? Wasn't the first-year disaster with her a testament to how it would never work with her?

In fact, Natasha thought curtly, why was Maria at this party? She didn't even go here anymore. She needed to stick to her own school's frat parties!

Natasha watched as you tilted your head back with a laugh at something Maria said and felt something unpleasant bubble in her stomach. Letting out a sigh, Natasha turned her gaze away again.

"Hey."

Natasha snapped her head back. You were standing in front of her, eyes slightly hazy and hair mussed. You were holding a red solo cup that you put into her hands as you took hers away.

"What are you—"

"You don't like fruity drinks, right? Brought you tequila. Would've gotten you vodka but they've only got the shit that's in a plastic bottle and that's just not right."

Natasha can't help but snort, the tips of her ears flushing as she takes a swig.

"So, what's got you moping in the back all alone here? It's very rare of you to be a wallflower. Finally sick of the frat parties?" You smirked at her.

Natasha merely scoffed before sucking in her bottom lip lightly to bite down on when she could see your teasing expression.

"Maybe," was all Natasha could tragically offer.

Then, you're grabbing her hand, and Natasha feels something flutter, and it's arguable worse than having her ears flush.

"Good, I'm over it tonight too," you said as you pulled her through the crowd, not paying mind to the people who'd greet Natasha. "Watching Steve step on Sharon's toes and her being so into it is too horrid to watch any longer." You slightly turned back to give Natasha a grin as you down the rest of her fruity drink.

Natasha found herself chuckling as you grabbed the tequila bottle off the table along with the grapefruit soda.

You led her up the stairs, trying to not trip over the groups of people sitting and chatting—or making out. The first door you opened turned out to have a random couple enthusiastically going at it.

"Oh—" Natasha started to say and tried her best to refrain from laughing when you shushed with a smile before quietly shutting the door.

It feels like an adventure trying to find an empty room in this frat house until you finally give up and open the hallway closet filled with random cleaning supplies and half-folded towels.

You pulled Natasha inside along with you, shutting the door behind her as the two of you slink down to the floor. You turn on your phone flashlight and dim it to the lowest setting.

It was hardly enough to see anything in full detail, but the two of you liked it like this—soft with a reason to be closer.

You had noticed Natasha staring at you throughout the party. It had elated you to have her attention. Then you noticed how Bucky had been just a couple of feet behind you, and you couldn't help but feel your stomach crumble.

But none of that mattered when it was just the two of them, and you didn't want to spend the time humming and hawing who Natasha was staring at when she was looking at you now.

So, you let the alcohol flow through you. You allowed the alcohol to remove any filter from your brain and talked about everything that came to mind.

The two of you talked about the people at the party, about the after-class activities that you both sorely wished you could drop if it wouldn't look so good on your resumes. You talked about how fast time seemed to fly, and you'd both be graduating this year, and despite that, it feels like neither of you really know what you're doing.

You talk and talk until it feels like you both are breathless, warm on tequila, and music pounding from outside the door.

And then the last two kisses you've shared jump into your mind. You stared at Natasha with her flushed cheeks and lazy smile, and you suddenly believed that being drunk was amazing.

Being drunk brought divinations! Like how you don't want chaste kisses anymore. You want to kiss the fuck out of her. You want to follow Bucky's suit and make out like your life depended on it.

You leaned across the space, nose bumping against Natasha's. She smelled like vanilla and tequila, and you loved it.

"Hey."

"Hey," Natasha breathed before she swallowed.

You hovered because there wasn't really any reason to kiss. There was no point to prove and no comfort needed, and you refused to merely chalk it up to being drunk.

"How much have you had to drink?" Natasha asked her breath on your lips.

"Enough to be brave and admit I want it but sober enough that I can tell you I won't change my mind tomorrow," you replied.

"Perfect," Natasha muttered before she surged forward to catch your lips assiduously, gripping the back of your neck.

And just like that, chaste kisses were out the window.

Part 4

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfiction #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #avengers x reader #modern avengers au #mm: answered #femalehomosexual666 #mm.drabble.nat

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birchbow · 2 years ago

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Do you have any set thoughts as to what happened in PoF vs Homestuck Canon? Like... did sburb not exist? I feel like dreambubbles still do, 'cause imo that explains gamzees dream with Sufferer. I just wanted to know bc beforus trolls kind of set the ball rolling for alternia history to happen, but that was still through sburb, wasnt it? Hell idk, it's been Years since ive re read homestuck and I aint abt to start now lmao

Hmmmm this is somewhat spoilery territory but also hard to bring across in-fic because it pertains to the meta-concept of this fic being an AU so I suppose I'll just lay some cards out on the table!

SO: the POF universe has some blurry edges overlapping with canon but overall is I suppose best explained in the original comic's context as a doomed timeline? Just in the sense that like..... Okay, example. The historical seer or prophet who started the cult of flesh saw visions of two godly-powerful beings, one red and one green, one raging and one mirthful, bound into physical flesh and raised by a purpleblooded troll with the symbol Makara. In my head, whoever started that cult was in a similar boat as the Signless, except they saw flashes of SGRUB and Gamzee raising Caliborn and Calliope. What they saw was real! In another universe hardly connected to theirs, which would never come to pass in their timeline.

Similarly: the Signless still saw visions of Beforus, still started his rebellion, still got killed the same way, but in this universe there's no time loop. He both was and wasn't created by SGRUB, because he can't have been created without it, but in this universe SGRUB didn't exist. In a sense, I have invaded this universe like Lord Fucking English and snipped the time loop off to hold in my grubby little hands lmao. Signless was no longer created by the game! He was created by me. I am paradox space now. The demon is already here.

All this to say, Gamzee's Signless dream was not actually a dream bubble per se. More a combination of the previously-established Makara ability to dream up semi-real beings with individual will and personality, combined with the elixir Gamzee was forced to drink, combined with the Signless's status as a Seer, specifically of Blood--I don't really intend to make it explicit what amount of Kankri is still extant, or if it's just an especially intense and lingering dream! Dream bubbles are not jossed in the PoF universe but I'm also not willing to sign off on that being the sum total of what's going on in that scene, haha.

#I'm Lord English now right down to the deeply perverted love of people intensely cuddling lmao #there is a certain deep injustice to the fact that the Cult of Flesh is both objectively wrong #because the thing they believe never happened and will never happen in their universe #and also being objectively right because I pulled their beliefs from canon events #SORRY Y'ALL you're in the wrong universe! Game over.#ask time!

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chiwhorei · 4 years ago

Text

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭

cross-posted to Ao3!

pairing: issei “horse cock” matsukawa x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ mdni

word count: ~4.4k

tags: stripper!issei, stripper!seijoh, roommate!oikawa, tendoukawa (bc @heauxzenji said it an it’s now the only ship in my head) dry humping, lap dance, a little corruption, spitting, public, alcohol and recreational drug consumption (weed and coke), spanking, degradation, hardly edited

a/n: howdy! this is my contribution to the smut pile’s western collab and it is so incredibly late but what the hell else is new. the masterlist for the collab can be found here! @messwriting and myself, in true chaotic duo fashion, built an absolutely depraved multiverse of seijoh strippers: the lawbreakers. lee, i love you so much. this journey we’ve been on the past few months has been chaotic and beautiful, and there’s plenty more to come.

the multiverse: hanamaki || iwaizumi || kyoutani

hymn: save a horse (ride a cowboy) by big & rich

and all the girls say— save a horse, ride a cowboy

A fog of smoke burns in your eyes. The room around you feels like it could curl in on itself, four walls marked sparsely with dusty furniture, the smell of weed and cash.

You fix your gaze onto a long, diagonal tear in the leather couch across the must and g-strings, the rip in upholstery is stuffed with wrinkled one dollar bills.

It feels like observing an exhibit at a museum, or a zoo. Lines of coke, random dustings of pot and discarded swisher tobacco, too many open handles of liquor. Sitting on an end table is a bright pink teddy bear with a cowboy hat on it’s head.

How the fuck did you get here?

***

You shift your weight on either foot, arches aching already. The pair of jeans and top you had planned on wearing tonight were all but ripped off of your body, casual boots thrown down the hallway with sadistic glee and replaced with heels that are taller and a dress much too short.

“Damnit, you’re walking too fast.” Your appointed captor turns around dramatically, stopping in his tracks to watch you catch up. The cigarette pressed into his mouth cards in two fingers and extended towards you as a peace offering. You take the half gone stick and bring it to your lips.

Tendou’s mission was simple, drag his boyfriends roommate and best friend-- possibly kicking and screaming-- out for a night she won’t soon forget.

“Were those really necessary, Satori?” You point with the remnants of his cigarette and he feigns a kicked-puppy expression, looking down dramatically at his all black outfit contrasting drastically with a flashy pair of brownish-red cowboy boots.

“I am being a supportive partner. Plus Tooru and I wear the same shoe size.” His hair is bright outlined by the neon sign above the building.

You inhale smoke and nicotine, eying him over once again before continuing.

“Does it bother you when he’s dancing on all of those horny women?” The cigarette butt falls to the ground, you snuff it out while exhaling remnant smoke from your nose, the bachelorette party walking towards the door in a parade screaming emphasizes your question.

Tendou pulls you close, mouth pressing against your neck to bite against the skin. You jerk away from his embrace, with a feeble push against his chest to match the scoff scratching against your throat. The tall red head above you, currently leaned into the dip on your neck, always has an air of vulgar humor and zero personal space.

“Watching my pretty little boyfriend grinding on women that would never stand a chance with him,” he pulls away just in time to catch another eye roll before grabbing your wrist to pull you inside, “I think it’s hot as fuck.”

You stumble behind him, the doorman recognizing your friend immediately and lets the pair of you through tacky saloon doors. You catch a glimpse of the tattered sign standing right next to the entrance.

Lawbreaker’s Presents: The Guys of the Wild West

The club is drastically warmer than outside, the chill in your barely covered limbs thaws in a mixture of stage lights and body heat.

You sigh deeply as the sound of country music fills your ears, seemingly in rhythm with the squawking of drunken hens sipping on tall flutes of champagne. Thinking back briefly to when you first signed the lease with Oikawa, you remember he wore glasses and a sweater vest.

He said he worked as a “fitness instructor.”

“Ah, my two favorite people in the whole world,” Tooru’s ears just have been burning at your recollection, as your roommate appears in front of you in nothing but white spandex shorts and a pair of shiny boots to match, a tray of drinks is placed to the side on an unoccupied table. The white cowboy hat on his head gleamed in the low light of the club, rhinestone star shimmers-- you want to shy away from the bright refraction hitting your eyes.

He looks in his element, completely confident and cocksure as he walks around in only underwear and body oil.

“Aren’t you glad you came out tonight? I promise, you’re going to have a great time.” Oikawa melts into Tendou’s side, he looks just as content in the current atmosphere. Tendou seems at home in any ecosystem he wanders into.

“The show starts in 15, go get yourself a drink and try to pull the stick out of your ass. I’m going to, uhm, wish Tooru an extra special good luck.”

“I really didn’t need to know that, thanks. Tooru, break a leg.” You turn around at the sight of the wandering, tattooed hand on it’s journey south on Oikawa’s abdomen and retreat to the bar. You aren’t shocked by the display, not hardly, not with the two of them using almost every surface in your apartment as a debauched playground.

The space around you is emptier than you imagined it would be, but there is still time before the night actually starts. The bartender approaches just as you sit down on one of the wooden stools, every fixture around you is designed to look like an old saloon-- save for the strobing lights and dj booth.

You order something strong and amber, partially to stay in-theme, partially for the nerves settled in your stomach that draft beer wouldn’t be able to curb.

The woman smiles brightly and turns to pour your liquor, leaving you to pick at a cocktail napkin and await your friend’s return.

“You’re Shittykawa’s roommate.” A stranger's voice is deep and bellowing, sounding high above your ear. You swivel in your seat, gaze meeting a tanned chest instead of a set of eyes. Trailing upwards past thick black tattoos and an unavoidable pair of silver nipple rings.

You can feel the muscles in the back of your neck as they strain to meet his chocolate brown stare, he looks amused as you all but gawk at him.

“Yes, uh, I am. And you’re, uhm--” the train of thought you try to hang onto derailed completely by a devastating smile, “one of Tooru’s co-workers?”

If his smile wasn’t enough, his laugh could level the building around you. Your new friend taps the black Stetson against the bar top before putting it back on his head. He gestures broadly to his attire, or lack thereof, with another disarming and smooth chuckle.

“What gave that one away, darlin’?” You realize how stupid your question sounded, mentally kicking yourself but trying desperately not to show it on your face.

Long, thick legs are wrapped in a pair of leather chaps, the tight fabric hides nothing even if it covers most of his lower half. A matching vest hangs open on his chest, the muscles in his arms look bigger than your head. He seems huge in presence and physique, your own form is a shrinking violet below him.

“Your drink, dear. Double Jack n’ Coke.” The bartender slides a glass towards you, and you accept it with a gracious smile. The distraction is definitely appreciated, any excuse to break the eye contact that has you dissolving like lye.

“Jack n’ Coke, a gal after my own heart.” You choke, a coupling of small coughs break out of your chest. You curse your bodies reaction, you don’t even know--

“You’re name, uh, w-what’s your name.” Casual conversation seems like the best option, because it’s only been two minutes with the almost-naked Casanova and there’s a gnawing feeling that you don’t want him to walk away.

You blame it on the alcohol not yet even running through your veins.

“Call me anything you want, pretty girl, but my name’s Issei.”

A smile creeps from one end of your mouth to the other. His presence is jarring to say the least, but there’s something about the way his teeth peek out past curled lips that makes you want to lean in instead of away.

Tendou calls your name, effectively pulling you out of Issei’s orbit and reminding you where you are. Heat flushes in waves on your face as Tendou wraps his long arms around your shoulders from behind. Acknowledging your new friend with a pointed, “Howdy partner,” before turning to order his own drink.

“Something sweet please, and strong.” You hear his voice singing to the bartender but still face Issei, having his attention is more intoxicating than whiskey. You want him to talk to you, to ask you questions, to grace you with that smile over again.

You feel the ability to breathe escaping when Issei leans into you impossibly close, his hand enclosing around your back and pulling you in so slightly you could swear you imagined it.

“It was nice to meet you. Make sure I hear ya’ out there, darlin.”

You’re left almost falling from the bar stool, watching as Issei strides toward the back. The way his hips sway is unfair in every--

“Hey,” Tendou’s fingers come up to snap in front of your face, “Didya hear me? Let’s go take our seats.”

That’s right; you feel like you’ve just run a marathon, heart beating erratically at the briefest interaction, your night hasn’t even started yet.

You’re dragged directly towards the front of the stage and sat in a small two person table. You agreed to the night out between gritted teeth, hauled to the uber with absolute defiance; but most of your protest has fizzled away-- definitely not due to a pair of deep brown eyes and planes of perfectly tanned skin-- as you get comfortable next to the boisterous bridal party. You can hear their idle, drunken chatter at your back.

“I heard they call one of the dancers ‘Mad Dog’. Apparently he’s totally feral.”

“One of them is nicknamed the ‘Big Tease’, he really likes the pretty little brides~”

“Oh yeah? Well there’s one dancer called ‘Horse Cock’. I’m going to go home with him.”

The women behind you howl with laughter, enjoying their friend’s last night of freedom. The straw in your drink twirls idly, thoughts drifting with each turn of the plastic against your liquor. Surely, Issei had just intended a friendly introduction, he wouldn’t be raking in tips by being unapproachable.

Friendly, you decide, repeating it to yourself until the lights drop and a black curtain is pulled up, he was just being nice.

* * *

The show starts out mostly how you would expect. Through a few sets, toned, beautiful guys take their clothes off and fling articles at the screaming, panting crowd. The table next to you gets the most attention, bridal parties, you assume, would be the prized cash cow.

Oikawa comes out in the most obnoxious, white and teal outfit and strips into nothing but a thong and boots. Every inch of his skin sparkles, the cause becoming obvious when he jumps down to the audience and swivels his hips and ass right into your lap. Your hand comes up to his hip reflexively to brace yourself-- of course, body glitter.

You watch on at the sweaty writhing of the most beautiful men you have ever seen in real life. The atmosphere around you is absolutely contagious, it’s impossible not to fall into the rhythm, losing inhibitions with every stray piece of fabric as it’s tossed into the sea of women.

Just as you lean over to Tendou to admit that you’re enjoying yourself, the next song blasts loudly from the speakers. The beat vibrates your table, soaking into every nerve, but is almost drowned out completely by the shrieking from every patron around you. They must know what’s coming.

Looking back up front, you realize why the crowd is losing their minds. The man that commanded your attention at the bar is even more alluring now. His strut to center stage is deliberate, flashing smiles and winks to no one in particular and hypnotizing every person in his reach.

Issei is stunning in his element, soaking in the reaction with a humble tip of his hat. You could swear, though you’re sure that it’s just your imagination, that he’s looking right at you.

His performance starts out like the rest of them, but each movement of his tattooed hands as they travel over his chest is spellbinding.

Issei discards his leather vest and tosses it to the side, it feels like you’re watching him in slow motion. He’s gorgeous, skin tanned and tight over thick muscle, arms wrapped in black ink and shining with sweat.

His chaps are next, ripped from his legs just as music behind him picks up. The wedding party next to you so loud you swear the laundromat next door can hear.

All that’s left is a thong that’s barely covering his cock. You try desperately not to, but all your eyes can focus on is the bulge under a tiny piece of black leather. Your thighs rub together in search of any relief to the feeling growing hot and slick in your stomach.

He moves like liquid platinum, every long, deliberate swivel of his hips and overt palming over his crotch is enough to cause delirium. He soaks in every whistle and shriek of his name, vibrating on the high of squelching attention.

Issei is a natural. He’s a wild animal, and, along with every other woman there, you wish he would tear you apart with his canines.

He descends the short staircase with a quick stomp of his boots, now making rounds through the crowd. He stops in front of tables at random, invading the space between strangers and collecting wrinkled one dollar bills.

Why does something so blatantly performative feel voyeurous?

All you can do is gawk, ignoring how every time another woman’s hand runs down his abdomen you heat with envy. As he turns away from the bridal party neighboring you, your blood turns ice cold.

Issei has you, unmistakably, in his sights. His eyes pin you, holding you down tightly in your chair as he struts forward. Tendou whistles loudly as the brunette approaches your table. You wonder, in your last moment of cognizance, if Saroti and Tooru had planned your evening in more detail that you originally thought.

“Long time no see, darlin’,” Issei stands over you, and all you can do is stare dumbly up at him, “do ya trust me?”

You don’t answer, not with words, not like he would even hear your quiver over Big & Rich booming through the speakers. His question is stupid, to trust someone you just met so vaguely?

You do. Against any better judgement, you do.

He doesn't give you the chance to ask what he means, stuck in the gooey feeling of his attention. Issei reaches behind you, picking up your half empty glass. He swirls the drink with an almost evil smile before bringing it up to his lips and draining the last bits of whiskey and coke.

Your face reads confused, not putting his intentions together until you feel his thumb pressed against your chin. Issei’s eyebrow quirks, eyes trained on your reaction. You’re options are to shy away, turning back in your seat, running for escape in the bathroom, or--

The gloss on your mouth is sticky as your lips part in obedience. Issei tries to hide his elation, but it’s difficult to remain aloof as your tongue lulls out and your eyes beg him.

Issei’s hold on your chin tightens, nudging you to lean in so he’s only inches away. Your eyes shut lightly, the shouting surrounding you sounds little more than a whisper with the blood rushing in your ears.

You swear you can hear him groan above you as the sharp taste of liquor hits your tongue. Willing your body to cooperate, you swallow the drink with only a small cough.

His face dips down, it seems like a habit now, to brush his promises against the shell of your ear once again.

“You’re an agreeable little thing, I think you can take it.”

His hands are on either side of your chair in a flash, lifting you up with trained, bulging muscles. You fall forward in your seat, bracing against Issei’s chest. Every cell in your body is tight with tension, if you lift your head up to meet the audience’s eyes, you’re sure you’ll crack like glass.

He steals you from relative comfort, shifting your weight in his arms as he ascends back onto stage. You’ve gone limp in his hold, pliant to his will. The unfamiliar presence at a dusty bar top has turned into more than a front row seat to depravity.

You’re thrown off balance as he sets you down, eyes adjusting to the white hot stage lights. You’re exposed to every set of eyes in the building, even if you can’t see him-- you know Satori is smiling from one sharp cheek to the other. Wherever Tooru is, he’s most likely sitting in the same satisfaction.

Aren’t you glad you came out tonight? I promise, you’re going to have a great time.

Issei rounds the back of your chair so his actions are hidden from your view. The brim of a leather cowboy hat breaches your field of vision, much too big for your head.

His hands come down onto your shoulders, snaking down your bare arms. His touch leaves a scorching fleet of chills. Issei runs his finger tips upwards, tracing against your collarbone before wrapping his grip lightly around your neck.

He can feel it, he has to, the racing pulse right under the surface of your skin.

The music transitions effortlessly, going almost unnoticed. The next song, still sharp with a cheesy country twang, is slower, deeper.

Issei’s thumb brushes against your cheek, your body wants to relax into the touch before it remembers how public the gesture is.

You hold in a shaky breath as he comes to stand in your eyeline again, you might as well be bound to your chair with rope. He looks larger than life-- in both stature and presence-- in front of you. His skin is glistening, refracting from the harsh lights with sweat and oil.

He is an unstoppable force against your will. Your desire to hide from the blinding attention is nothing compared to the desire to please. To please a stranger, to please the man you met only an hour ago.

To please Issei.

He flashes you another wink, taking a moment to rake his stair down your body. He memorizes the outline of your cute little dress, red is definitely your color.

Issei slides across the smooth surface of the stage to meet where you’re perched. The barreling, almost naked body now impossibly close to where your knees are pressed together.

He starts at your ankles, tracing the soft skin of your legs until his palms press flatly against your lower thigh. Issei savors the moment for a beat longer before prying your legs apart.

The crowd below you is loud and hollow in your ears, the shame bubbling up against your cheeks and nose is nothing compared to the pressure between your legs.

Issei’s hands wander up and under the hem of your skirt, scratching his nails on the vulnerable skin before they find his prize in the form of thin lace.

The “Wait” and “Stop” sitting on your lips shrivels up and dies as your panties are ripped off. You see the bright color, the last remnants of opposition twirling around his pointer and middle finger.

The crowd goes wild, watching as your body is made a fantasy that they can all live vicariously by. all you can do is watch as the fabric is stuffed into the side of his thong to accompany fistfuls of singles.

* * *

You’re still in shock by the final dance, still under a trance as Tendou pulls you towards the back. Stumbling behind him to catch up, you’re given no time to think about what you’re about to walk into.

A fog of smoke burns in your eyes. The room around you feels like it could curl in on itself, four walls marked sparsely with dusty furniture, the smell of weed and cash.

You fix your gaze onto a long, diagonal tear in the leather couch across the must and g-strings, the rip in upholstery is stuffed with wrinkled one dollar bills.

“I didn’t go too far did I?” Snapping back into reality, you hear Issei call to you. You’re vaguely comforted by a familiar voice before remembering the man attached had spat whiskey into your mouth and stolen your panties just 30 minutes prior. You heat up at the tips of your ears at the recollection of two things you had let him do, that you had wanted him to do.

Your eyes find Issei sitting on the couch on the opposite end of your freshly showered roommate, seemingly unbothered as Tendou flops down against the middle cushion and drapes both arms across the back.

“Don’t worry partner, our girl doesn’t startle easy.” Oikawa laughs, adjusting to sit across his boyfriend’s lap. Issei’s all leather outfit is replaced with a pair of grey sweats. He looks relaxed, effortlessly handsome.

What was it like, you wonder, before you knew how it felt to look at him? Life past the single night feels grey around the edges.

When was the last time you felt this alive?

He takes a sip of a water bottle, wiping off his chin with the large rose tattooed on his hand. You can’t stop staring at them-- the ones that roamed your body in front of a club full of drunk bachelorettes, the ones that traced your skin like he already had the map.

And now you watch those same hands, so new but so inviting, as two fingers curl inward. They pull you as if tightening a rope around your waist. You wade past tall sweaty men and freshly caught audience members as they tangle across dusty furniture.

You scoot by your best friends from where they sit next to Issei, ignoring the slap to your ass and the following laugh from Oikawa in between loud, sloshing kisses.

“Well, little one,” He pats his thigh, inviting you to the spot on his lap rather than the empty seat next to him, “you’re not gonna run away are ya?”

Every nerve in your body is twitching, you’re not sure if you could run if you wanted to.

You don’t.

Issei takes in your small nod of confirmation, pulling you into his hold. The position is awkward at first, perching on his knee as you try to keep your balance. He laughs, his arm snaking around your back so you relax into him. You fidget with your fingers as they lie against your lap, watching the bustling around you. A cloud of smoke settles in the air, you wonder if it’s a permanent haze of tobacco and pot-- the scent is probably painted into the walls.

“Is this what you expected?” Issei’s voice is low and close to your ear, you can feel the smile curled into his question. Your eyes are fixed forward, watching as Tendou pours a small white line into Oikawa’s collarbone and dives in nose first.

“Honestly,” you adjust, kicking your legs up over his other knee, “I’m pretty used to this kind of stuff.”

Even if your usual scene doesn't include a drug filled almost-orgy, you can’t say you’re fazed much. Not with the company you keep.

Even with the circus revolving around you, Issei is the only thing you can see. Everything else falls away but the smell of his body wash and the soft material of his sweats where they meet your naked legs.

His hand rests against your thigh, fingers just above then short hem of your party dress. The metal rings on each digit are cool against your burning skin. You’re sure Issei can feel the heat rising in your stomach as it spreads through your blood.

You feel him lean back, fishing something out of his pocket to set in your hands. You feel every hair stand on edge as the thin cotton drops into your grip, heavy as an anchor.

“You know what I think, darlin’?” Your breath hitches, the room around you squeezing tight against your shoulders, “I think you’re a natural on stage. I bet you would have let me do anything up there.”

A hand wanders down the path of your spine, rough fingerprints stroke past each vertebrae. You arch at the feeling, his skin is like a narcotic. The liquor still swimming in your mind is no match to this, to the heady smell of sex and sweat as it cuts through your senses.

Issei’s right, you’ll let him do anything to you. You’ll beg for it like you’re trying to pass the gates of heaven.

Your body moves of its own volition, legs swinging to straddle his waist. The material of your dress bunches over the curve of your ass, completely exposed to the room around you before being eclipsed by steady palms.

You would be, should be, embarrassed by the display of public depravity. No one around seems to notice, half naked is still more modest than most everyone else. Tendou and Oikawa have dissolved into a pile of spit and clashing teeth next to you, saving you from any snide quips. There’s nothing but Issei, face an inch away from you and lips tempting you to lean forward.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I don’t usually do this?”

Glassy eyes flick dumbly at the man below you. He sees the wobble of your lip, the glaze in your stare as you memorize every feature on his face. Any reassurance sitting on his tongue dies when you crash your lips against his, hips rolling down into him and knocking him off guard.

Your kiss is searing and drips with finality. You’ve decided what bed you’ll wake up in the morning with your tongue tracing against his molars.

“No, not really.” Foreheads pressed together, it’s your turn to laugh. If you’re honest, you probably made this decision while still sitting at the bar.

You dip back in, emboldened with the bruising fingers digging against the fat of your hips. The feeling of your cunt pressed against his crotch could bring a man to his knees.

He’s not opposed, he’s just gotta get you home first.

#issei matsukawa x reader #issei matsukawa smut #mattsun smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #the smut pile collab #the smut pile western collab #the lawbreakers: multiverse #tw: drugs #tw: voyeurism #sin.drugs #sin.voyeurism

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becca-e-barnes · 4 years ago

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Soo this may sound really cliché but I'm a slut for cliché, so what do u think about Zemo x female Reader where he's working on something important and has to be with his phone all the time, therefore he can't give the reader the attention she needs/wants. Maybe it could be really angsty but ending up really fluffy? whatever you decide, thank you🥺💞

I haven’t written for Zemo in a hot minute, I’ve missed him sm! 🥺 Thank you so much for this request!! 💗 I loved writing it and honestly, it had me so torn bc I feel like Zemo wouldn’t prioritise anything over his gf! Like this man just wants you to know how loved you are all the damn time and nothing is gonna get in his way (also domestic Zemo in loungewear makes me all 🥺) Hope you like it, thank you so much for being patient!!

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Lil angst but mostly fluff tbh

Summary: It’s your birthday and despite Zemo’s best efforts, he can’t give you his undivided attention.

“Helmuttttt, you promised you wouldn’t be working this weekend.” You whined, trying to make your tone as playful as possible to hide the fact you were actually quite annoyed that his phone had hardly left his hand all day. It was your birthday weekend and your hard-working boyfriend had promised you his undivided attention; something you didn’t receive often despite his good intentions. Sure he had taken you out for the day, going in and out of every shop you could think of, buying you anything and everything you so much as looked at. You had protested of course, telling him it was too much but he hadn’t cared, a little smile creeping across his face as he told you that you deserved the best and he intended to give it to you. But even as he had carried your shopping bags full of expensive gifts, his phone stayed glued to his hand, texting away whenever your back was turned.

“I’m sorry, my dove, I am almost done.” He soothed, still not taking his eyes away from that stupid little device in his hand. You were back in the little house you shared together, all the bags of expensive gifts laid by the front door.

“You said you were almost done earlier Helmut.” You pouted softly, starting to feel more than a little dejected from the lack of attention.

“I know my love, apologies. Please, go choose a movie, any one you want. I’ll finish up here and we can watch it together.” His sweet brown eyes made it so clear that he had the best intentions, obviously completely torn between his commitment to his work and his love of you. He wanted to give you the best birthday, he wanted to make sure you knew how important you are to him but God, did his lifestyle make it difficult. You cracked a little smile at his sincerity, placing a loving kiss to his forehead before scampering off to choose a movie and set up your cosy living room.

It didn’t take long for you to set everything up exactly as you wanted it, lighting the huge fire, pulling some snacks together and collecting the spare duvet that you kept for occasions like this. You loved these lazy afternoons, the fact they were few and far between only made you truly appreciate them more. The only real light in the room came from the roaring fire, crackling and popping fiercely, pumping heat into the massive living space. While Helmut Zemo came from some very old money, he had done everything in his power to modernise your house while keeping all those little lavish quirks that came with owning such an old, ornate building. You flopped down on the huge sofa, admiring your handiwork, just waiting for your boyfriend to join you, hoping he wouldn’t be too long, wrapping yourself up in the soft duvet.

“You will have to make some space for me, my love.” You heard him chuckle from the doorway, laughing at all the little dishes of snacks you had laid out in his usual spot. His phone was nowhere to be seen as he laid down beside you, setting all the little bowls on the coffee table. He had changed his clothes, no longer wearing that huge coat with the fur lining, opting instead for some more comfortable loungewear that you had bought him for Christmas. You hadn’t seen him wear it very often, mainly due to the fact he had very little down time. The soft, fleecy burgundy material made him look so snug and cosy, you couldn’t help but smile, stretching out your arms and doing the little grabby motion with your hands that you knew he loved so much.

“What are we watching, my dove?” He asked softly, letting you rest your head on his chest, snuggled up against his body.

“You said I could choose so I picked Legally Blonde.” You smiled gleefully, lifting the little TV remote to press the ‘play’ button.

“Again? I think we watched that last time, no?” He chuckled, stroking through your hair lovingly with his fingers, kissing the top of your head.

“It’s my favourite, Helmut.” You laughed quietly, melting into his broad chest and gentle touches. The movie started and you found yourself getting completely distracted by the plot, not even noticing your boyfriend had been texting away on his stupid phone again until it rang.

“I’m sorry my love, I have to take this.” He explained, brow furrowed as he shifted you off him so he could take the call somewhere more private. You couldn’t help but sigh sadly, not really wanting to feel like you were second best on your own birthday. You knew there was nothing he could do, this wasn’t his fault after all but it did hurt to see how he seemingly had all the time in the world for whoever was on the other end of his phone yet you didn’t get that same treatment, even for one day of the year. You couldn’t even make out his hushed conversation, his voice muffled by the thick wooden door but the sound of his footsteps, heading away from the living room were unmistakeable, leaving you alone on the huge sofa. Even your favourite movie couldn’t distract you from the sad ache that managed to settle in your chest, despite how hard you tried to push it away. It was draining, knowing that while he was the most important thing in your life, that wasn’t always reciprocated by Helmut. The huge grandfather clock on the wall ticked faintly, marking each lonely second. With each gentle tick, the space your boyfriend had occupied on the sofa only grew colder. Helmut Zemo had promised you the world, but what good would the world be to you if he wasn’t around to share it with you. Eventually, the end credits rolled and even the cheerful ending wasn’t enough so mollify that sad longing in your chest. Instead you just curled up under the heavy comforter, TV switched off once more and snacks entirely discarded.

You couldn’t tell how long it took for your boyfriend to come back but eventually the heavy door creaked open once more and you felt his body slot against yours as it had been before he left.

“Missed you.” You whispered against his body, letting him pull you close, obviously so aware that he had neglected you almost all day, even though he had promised not to.

“I missed you too, my sweet.” His voice was so soft and thoughtful, not the same hushed whisper he used on the phone. The silence after that hung heavily in the room. He didn’t want to explain why his work was taking so much of his attention away from you, not wanting to give it any more of his time but still feeling like you were owed the explanation.

“Can you do something for me, my dove?” He asked quietly after a long pause, lifting your chin in one of his delicate hands so you would be forced to look up at him. You nodded quickly, taking in the little loving expression on his face. “Will you keep this for me?” He presented you with his phone, already switched off. “Don’t let me have it back.” You couldn’t help but smile, taking the offending device from him and tucking it gently into the pocket of your hoodie. “I am entirely yours.” He promised, knowing that this time, he would keep his word.

“Thank you Helmut, it means a lot.” You whispered, pulling him into a chaste kiss, his fingers caressing the back of your neck, touches only feather light against your skin.

“I wish I could’ve done it sooner my dove. I’m sorry, today wasn’t exactly as I had planned. Something came up and I –“ he began but you cut him off with another gentle kiss.

“You don’t need to explain. It’s okay.” You mumbled against his lips, caressing his soft cheek with the pad of your thumb.

“But I do, sweet pea. I didn’t keep my word, I promised you my undivided attention and you didn’t get it.” You could tell it was genuinely eating him up that he hadn’t been able to control how much of his time was spent with you.

“I have you now, don’t I?” You questioned, trying your best to ease his guilty conscience.

“You do, my love.” He nodded, his hands on your waist, rubbing your soft skin with his fingertips. He lived for this kind of intimacy, the gentler side of life, the simplest pleasures life had to offer. No amount of money could buy the kind of peace you brought him, especially in moments like this. The gentle thud of your heart in your chest soothing him no end. These soft moments reminded him just how beautiful life could be, lavish clothes, fancy cars and huge houses paling in comparison to the love, forgiveness and true happiness only you could provide. “I just want to be able to give you the very best.” He admitted.

“I have the very best already Helmut, I have you.” He never understood how you could see him like that, looking past the hard exterior and the fancy title and falling in love with the parts of him he did his best to hide. He couldn’t understand it but God, was he endlessly thankful for it.

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