#but I stopped talking to him completely a few months ago and only picked back up in the last few weeks

[harmonyrae]

Let You Make Me Juno

Synopsis: There’s a song you just can’t get out of your head. You just wanted to dance and sing along every time it came on. Which is exactly what you do and the boys have a very intense reaction to some of the lyrics.

AN: I hadn’t heard Juno by Sabrina Carpenter in its entirety until literally yesterday and I’ve been on a writing kick so… This happened. Smile. ENJOY!

Content Warnings: Heavy on the innuendos, also heavy on the implied activities, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, breeding kink (if you squint), the boys are shook & horny, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 3.1k

Whatever report Zayne is working on must be a hefty one, he’s been consistently typing for nearly an hour. You circle behind him and top off his coffee. He doesn’t look up, but hums as you pour - a silent thank you. You head back into the kitchen and continue making breakfast. 

It was rare that Zayne didn’t have to head to work early and the Association had given all Hunters a long weekend to celebrate the previous month. Only two injuries and no major incidents. You had both slept in and you were making pancakes. Usually Zayne would lecture you about “making sure you got protein and complex carbs” to start your day, but you promised to make chocolate chip pancakes and he stopped arguing. His sweet tooth won over in the end. 

You continue mixing the batter, swaying your hips to your playlist. Your “feel good” playlist, it always made you want to dance. You hum along while you wait for the pan to heat up. That’s when you hear the beginning notes of the song you’re obsessed with. 

“Zayne! Can you turn the music up?”

You look over your shoulder to see him nod, never taking his eyes off the screen. The music swells through the bluetooth speakers and you start bouncing in excitement. You immediately start singing along.

Don't have to tell your hot ass a thing Oh yeah, you just get it 

Finally, Zayne peels his eyes away from his report. He didn’t get a chance to write up the surgery debrief after getting home last night. He intended to stay up to finish it, but when he got home you were dressed in the black nightgown that drove him crazy. He spent his night doing something equally as important, but now he was rushing to get it completed. But when you started singing, he immediately took notice.

You usually didn’t sing out loud, preferring to hum along. And the way you bounced back and forth, your hips swaying seductively, was very distracting. You wore your satin sleep shorts and his dress shirt buttoned halfway, just a hint of your delicious cleavage peeking over the collar. Zayne straightens his back and tries to refocus.

Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit God bless your dad's genetics, mm, uh

He blinks rapidly before taking his glasses off to rub his eyes. He turns to look at you fully. Watching you dance and stir the pancake batter. You turn to look over at him, not expecting to see him looking at you. You see the tips of his ears have turned red and you giggle, continuing your dance while maintaining eye contact with him. 

You make me wanna make you fall in love Oh, late at night, I'm thinkin' 'bout you, ah, ah-ah Wanna try on my fuzzy pink handcuffs?

Zayne’s eyes widen and you can’t help but let out a loud laugh. The blush spread across his cheeks and down his neck. You set down the bowl and approach him, singing and dancing along the way. 

I know you want my touch for life If you love me right, then who knows? I might let you make me Juno

He finally stands, placing his hands on your hips. He doesn’t stop you from dancing, just holds you and feels you sway. You spot a smile creeping onto his face. You reach up and hold onto his shoulders. He leans down and starts placing open mouth kisses to the exposed skin of your chest. You close your eyes and feel his warm breath on your ear as he whispers.

“Isn’t ‘Juno’ that movie we watched a few weeks ago?”

You hum in agreement and Zayne doesn’t hesitate to pick you up, moving your legs to wrap around him. He squeezes your ass before he trails a hand under the back of your shirt. You shiver at his touch and cling to him. He turns and walks into the kitchen to turn off the stove.

“Don’t you want pancakes?”

Zayne smiles and his eyes sparkle with something you rarely see when you’re with him. 

“Oh, I’m still having cake for breakfast.”

How did you get roped into this? Tara is so damn persuasive. Or maybe you’ve had a few too many drinks? The little umbrellas make them seem so harmless though…

Xavier had tried to intercept and make sure you didn’t feel forced. But after Tara whispered what song she had picked for karaoke you were completely on board. Plus, you didn’t wear your favorite dress and heels for nothing. 

The fitted baby blue dress hugged your curves, but the tiered ruffles on the skirt made you feel like a ballerina when you twirled. The square neckline flattering your defined collarbone, while hiding a hickey on your shoulder. You tapped your sparkly heels along with your favorite song. Tara and you harmonized seamlessly.

Let you lock me down tonight One of me is cute, but two, though? Give it to me, baby You make me wanna make you fall in love

Xavier had been checked out for most of the night, he was just happy to spend time with you. And the other hunters he worked with - since this was a Hunter’s Appreciation party. But getting to watch you dress up and hold you close while dancing in the dimly lit club, yeah, that made the socializing worth it. 

His brain had finally registered the lyrics and he almost choked on his drink. He coughed quietly and looked up at you. Your cheeks flushed from the alcohol, your tits bouncing while you dance with Tara. He tries to keep his eyes locked on yours, but his eyes can’t help but wander. Two? Imagining a miniature version of you made Xavier’s heart pound against his ribcage.

I showed my friends, then we high-fived  Sorry if you feel objectified 

Xavier’s eyes widened and he nearly dropped his drink. He sets it down on the bar with a shaky hand. He tilts his head at you, as if asking what exactly did you show. He shook his head, surely not. It was just a song. But then again, you could “show” and he knew that. 

Xavier never asked you to send him nudes, but you were so easily turned on by him you spent weeks trying to figure out a way to level the playing field. Sure enough, sending him a picture from the shower did the trick. Of course, he matched your energy and offered to send his own. Which you didn’t reject. He definitely didn’t hold back after that. You’d send pictures and videos back and forth regularly. You could absolutely show Tara and you had zero doubts she would, indeed, high-five you.

Can't help myself, hormones are high Give me more than just some butterflies

You surprised yourself with how well you hit each note, your confidence growing. Your slightly hooded eyes stay locked on Xavier the whole song. You could feel the tension in the room grow. The hunger in Xavier’s eyes was evident. You watched as he slowly made his way to the side of the stage where you eventually climbed down.

Jeremiah was standing next to him, his cheeks flushed. Tara begged Xavier to invite him and after the performance - both you and Xavier finally figured out why. She launched herself into his arms, giggling. His whispered praises were almost lost in the club's noise. Xavier grabbed your waist and pulled you to him immediately. He leaned over to Jeremiah and whispered something before pulling you towards the exit. 

“Xavier! What about –”

“They’ll get a cab, we’re leaving.”

His tone was firm and his expression calm. You were almost concerned he was angry with you. Once outside, you expected to stop at the edge of the sidewalk to hail a cab, but Xavier took a sharp turn, heading into an alley behind the club.

“What are we –”

You couldn’t even finish speaking before Xavier’s lips captured yours. His hand reaches down to pull up your dress, his fingers swiftly pulling your panties aside to press against your clit. He presses you against the wall and his kiss turns frantic. You barely have a moment to moan, you breathe heavily, your hands wrapping around him and taking fistfuls of his sweater. 

Right as your legs start to shake, he pulls back and presses his forehead against yours.

“I need to get you home for this conversation.”

You scrunch your nose and look at him, confused. He nips at your bottom lip pulling another breathy moan from you.

“You are definitely cute, but two? That’d be exquisite.”

“No no no, higher!”

You pointed at the couch, urging Rafayel to get in the right spot to start recording. He huffed and crossed his arms.

“What about my artistic vision? Just because it’s a TikTok doesn’t mean it should look like shit. Let me work my magic!”

You put your hands on your hips and let him adjust the brightness of the overhead lights and try out different angles. You smile, knowing exactly what you’re up to. He’ll feel silly in about 15 minutes. 

You run a hand over your shorts and matching cropped hoodie, smoothing out the wrinkles from practicing. The pink color almost matches the blush on your cheeks - which was not just from practicing. You might be a bit nervous. 

You tighten your ponytail and press your lips, nibbling the corner of your mouth as you tap your foot impatiently. Rafayel finally looks up at you and rolls his eyes. 

“Sorry cutie, I know your best angles and it’ll be worth the wait.” 

He finally climbs up on the couch and looks at you through your phone. His brows knit together. He’s just now realizing you were right about where he needed to stand. You giggle while he puffs out a breath, his dusty purple fringe fluttering upwards. 

“Okay, are you ready?”

You nod enthusiastically before hopping over to your starting spot. 

“So you know what to do, right?”

“Why are you asking me that? Of course I know! I’m not a boomer.” 

You roll your eyes and grab your hairbrush, the best option you had for a makeshift microphone. You could have asked Rafayel to get you a real one but you didn’t want to ask him to put too much effort into this little video. A video you didn’t really plan on posting. 

Rafayel holds up three fingers and counts down before pointing at you. You smile and sway your hips, lip syncing to your latest obsession.

You make me wanna make you fall in love Oh, late at night, I'm thinkin' 'bout you, ah, ah-ah Wanna try out some freaky positions?

You swiftly lie down on your stomach and bend your knees, pulling your ankles up as close to your head as possible. You reach back and lock your fingers behind your ankles. You look at the camera and smile with a flush.

Have you ever tried this one?

Rafayel almost drops your phone. He ends the recording and stares at you. His ears turned bright red and his eyes darken, turning an even deeper shade of purple. 

“I didn’t realize you were doing this trend…”

You roll over and cross your legs in front of you, resting your hands on your knees. You raise a brow and glare at him. 

“How many videos of this trend have you watched, Rafayel?”

His eyes widen and he coughs, straightening his back before hopping off the couch in one swift motion. He crosses his arms and looks down at you, his mouth settled into that adorably irritating pout. 

“I just know of the trend, not -- I don’t watch them like –”

You interrupt him, your voice a tad more raspy than you intended.

“Do you think the position isn’t worth it?”

The blush travels across his cheeks and he twists his nose, trying his best to look upset.

“That’s not what I said.” 

“Cause I have a few I could try. You know… for the video.”

Rafayel’s eyes narrow and his eyes drop to your exposed midriff and bare legs. He clears his throat and drops his hands to his hips before turning to walk away. You exhale sharply - he’s being dense. Time to be more direct. 

“Like this one?”

He turns his head and watches you shift to face him. You lie back and kick your legs up. Your shoulders remain planted on the floor while your midsection is straight up, your hands planted on your back, your elbows braced against the floor to hold you up. Your legs tip over and your toes touch the floor. You keep your legs straight and spread them as wide as you are comfortable. Your shorts sink into your ass, the curve and shape now on full display. 

You hear a sharp intake of breath and a shuffling of feet. You try to lower to the ground once more, but feel his hands on the backs of your thighs. When you look up you see Rafayel lean over to look down at you.

“Did you really do this trend for the trend, or did you have other intentions?”

You smile up at him, your smug expression clear as day. He runs his hands over your ass and places his hands at either side of your nearly exposed pussy. You gasp quietly. 

“Yeah, you’re not uploading that video, but we are definitely trying these positions.”

He runs his thumbs across your center. You know he can feel how wet you are, doing those positions in front of him - positions you’ve desperately wanted to try with him - really got you going. He grinds against you, his cock digging into your ass, pulling a moan from you.

“Right fucking now.”

You didn’t even hear the front door to your apartment open, your music was turned up way too loud. And you were enjoying the mini concert you were putting on in the bathroom. 

You held the curling iron loosely and rocked your hips side to side. You could never stop yourself from dancing and singing along to this song. You were so excited when Tara told you she got tickets for Sabrina’s concert next month. You were listening to all of her albums on repeat to prepare. 

But tonight, you were going out with Sylus for a very special occasion - your one year anniversary. Well, it’s been over a year since you met him, but you both agreed not to celebrate when you actually met because it wasn’t exactly the best memory. 

Sylus gave you his black card to get pampered all day while he worked and you made the most of it. Getting your nails done, a facial, shopping and basically a full body wax. You spent extra time on your makeup since you had a few new products to try out. Your new red lipstick compliments your skin tone perfectly, its staying power would be tested later. 

The dress you picked was relatively simple, but god, did you feel sexy. The black bodice was fitted, hitting mid-thigh. The chest was very structured and pushed your girls up, giving the illusion of more cleavage than you actually had. Your favorite part though, were the sleeves. Black lace from shoulder to fingertip, the bell sleeves almost completely covering your hands. You paired the dress with new red pumps, which were still in the box on your bed.

Your hair was actually curling nicely and wasn’t falling flat immediately, so you felt on top of the world. You danced and sang at the top of your lungs. 

You had no idea, Sylus had already let himself into your apartment. A bouquet of red roses in his hand and a mechanical crow with glowing yellow eyes sitting on his shoulder. Sylus couldn’t wait to introduce you to Lilith. He had built her himself specifically for you. He knew it would only mean you’d send her to spy on him like he had Mephisto spy on you, but he could tell how much you started to love seeing his little metal companion. 

He heard the music immediately when he walked in. He closed the door quietly and dropped his suit jacket on the arm of the couch. He pointed to his jacket and Lilith flew over, settling on the fabric. He put the flowers on the coffee table and silently made his way to the door of your bathroom. A smile breaking out across his face as he realized you were singing. 

Adore me, hold me, and explore me Mark your territory Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one

His heart skipped a beat. Not only was your voice hypnotizing, but the lyrics… He had heard this song before, but couldn’t remember where. Probably on one of your drives with him, he tended to give you control of the music while he drove. It meant you were more likely to sing. He leaned against the doorframe just out of view. He could see you in the mirror, swaying your hips while you wrapped a strand of hair around the curling iron.

Adore me, hold me, and explore me I'm so fuckin' horny Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one

And that’s when Sylus’s willpower broke. He pushed the bathroom door open, still leaning against the door frame. He racked his eyes down your body, taking in your new dress.

“Sylus! Oh my god, you fucking scared me! When did you get here?”

Sylus lifted his gaze to meet yours. He smirked before reaching up to grab the door frame above him. He looked so much taller like this, staring at you with those eyes. 

“I was just enjoying the show, kitten.”

You put down the curling iron and turned it off. You fluffed your hair, letting the curls fall into loose waves. You tried not to stare at Sylus in the mirror. The top buttons of his shirt were undone and you could see his chest rising and falling faster and faster.

“I like the song. I am curious though… When you sing along, do you think of anyone?”

Your cheeks flush and you stare at him. You bite your lip as you smile. He lets go of the doorframe and pushes off to walk towards you. His hands wrap around your waist and he pulls you close. Your back flush against his chest, you could feel his erection press against your ass. 

“You know the answer to that question, Sy…” 

He smiled and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“Well, I’d say I’ve completed adoring and holding you, that just leaves exploring.”

“Sylus! We –”

He spins you around and grabs your waist. He leans down to kiss your neck, before dipping down to bite at the fullness of your chest. You arch your back and let your head fall back as you groan. Your hands reach out to hold onto his waist, while his wrap around to grab your ass.

“But you’re so fuckin' horny, sweetie. And I live to serve my one and only.”

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22

[wtfsteveharrington]

c l o s e t o y o u | carmen berzatto x reader

we've got so much history baby

description: set months after your breakup, you and carmen navigate what it means to be separated. you're trying to move on but waves always return to the ocean.

warnings: kinda angsty but also hurt/comfort. mutual pining even tho you're both trying to pretend it isn't there. miscommunication. kinda mentions of cheating if you squint but not really. no one has cheated but what to call this vibe irdk so! also mentions of using the bathroom if that bothers you!! it's quick!

smut warnings: oral/fingering reader receiving, spanking, dirty talk, hints of dom!carmy, unprotected sex but backshots for 'safety', sexting, semi public sex, lots of hickies/bruises talk bc carmy's a lil shit, multiple mentions of masturbation for both, reader has a drunk bar make out phase post breakup. reader is afab but no major descriptors used.

word count: almost 9.2k. the longest thing i've written so far!

a/n: dare i say this might be my favorite thing i've written possibly. aiming to make this a three part series but possibly could go longer.... i hope you enjoy <3

maybe you and i were meant to be / maybe i'm crazy

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Carmen’s eyes are trained on you from the second your front door opens. His hands stalled halfway through taking off his jacket, only one shoe clattering across your entryway. 

“Where’ve you been tonight?” 

Which you have no choice but to shoot him a warning glance in response. It was late, you didn’t have the energy for a fight and that’s the complete opposite reason of why you texted him to come over. “I was on a date, Carmen.” 

He physically deflated at your answer. “Oh.”

You can’t meet his eye, can’t risk seeing his reaction. Would he be upset? Indifferent? It’s hard to decide which would be worse.

When you had broken up a few months ago the roles were clear - A case of ‘right person, wrong time’. He was busy, so endlessly busy. Working late into the night and heading in randomly during the morning or afternoon if he was needed. Which he could easily decide he was.

For as long as you could remember Carmen always took Tuesdays off to spend with you and get life in order. That way he had Monday to help the restaurant recover from the weekend and could trust them to handle what was, usually, an easier day. It was a tradition you took seriously and the two of you regularly made plans together every single Tuesday. Date nights, day trips, a mixture of adventures. It didn't matter what you were doing together so long as you had Tuesday to look forward to and help get you through the week.

Yet things started picking up. More celebrity dining requests, more magazine and tv interviews, more, more, more.

And it wasn’t that you misunderstood how important the restaurant was. Far from it. There were many nights where Carmen would come home a ball of anxiety because it took an hour longer than he anticipated and he knew it wasn’t fair to you. There would be a mess of apologies as he barreled in the door, bracing himself for a fight or to see your disappointed face. All of which you happily soothed by repeating constant mantras - The restaurant was his baby; you weren’t upset; take a deep breath; we’re okay. 

Then eventually you stopped saying you weren’t upset, stopped saying you two were okay. Eventually you stopped waiting up for him at all. At first Carmen would shower and climb into bed, confused if he should attempt to hold you or not. Your sleeping (Fine, sometimes you faked being asleep too) frame with your back turned to him. The blankets pulled tight around your body acting like a shield. 

Finally he just started sleeping on the couch. 

So yeah, the fall apart came quick. It was an avalanche neither of you could control nor did either of you want. There was still love between the two of you - But again it’s the right person, wrong time. 

You avoided each other for the following weeks. Carmen threw himself even more into work and you took a week of PTO to go visit one of your friends. He wondered if you were safe, you wondered why none of the people in the bar tasted the way he did. Your friend encouraged you with every sloppy make out conquest but it always ended there. You wanted to get Carmen out of your mind but weren’t ready for him to not be the last person who fully touched you. 

It didn’t work but does it ever?

Carmen watched your Insta far more than he should have. Risking way too many glances down at his phone during his free time to see if there were any updates about how you were doing. As if you’d post photos with long captions that mimicked a therapy session but he didn’t know where else to go. Sydney would report back what your story shows no matter how much Carm insisted he didn’t care. 

Because he didn’t, okay? He was fine. He knew it was for the best. Right? 

And then you posted a photo of yourself in a low cut top laughing in a bookstore. He zoomed in to see what titles you had in your arms as if they were clues and his eyes definitely didn’t linger on the swell of your cleavage. He didn’t think about how many nights he took for granted watching as your back arched up under him and you begged for more. He didn’t think about the way you’d crawl into bed at night and his mind would instantly rid itself of anything but you. He didn’t jack off to memories of you in the shower every morning because thinking about someone else, watching porn of other people, it didn’t feel wrong. No, that wasn’t the case at all. 

You, on the other hand, turned on Google alerts for anything relating to The Bear or Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto. Most of it was just good Yelp! ratings or fluff pieces from the local papers. He wasn’t one for posting on social media, in fact you weren’t sure he used it at all but you still posted like he was, but sometimes you’d find yourself scrolling through Sydney’s feed to see if she was giving you any crumbs. Sometimes, if you were really desperate, you’d find yourself in Richie’s feed even. It was pathetic but you can’t help it. 

One late night you came across an Instagram story post Sydney had up. Carmen leaning against a pinball machine at some gaming bar downtown. His hair was pushed back, eyes crinkled up with laughter. He looked at ease, peaceful. You wondered if anyone there felt the same… Was someone whispering to their friends and trying to build the encouragement up to go talk to him? Would he respond? 

Right, it wasn’t your place to care anymore. Yet you still cried yourself to sleep and yearned for when things felt so much easier. 

Yeah, the breakup wasn’t exactly going well. 

A few weeks ago you came across Carmen at the grocery store of all places. Both of you had gotten so used to doing the shopping Tuesday mornings and, logically, you were both comfortable going to the location just like you had been weekly for months. Your breath caught in your throat and God he looked better than you remembered. The first thing out of his mouth was, “Great sale on gouda this week.” And the only thing your brain could conjure up was, “Well that’s gouda.”

You both stayed silent for a moment before bursting out in laughter. 

Laughter turned to getting lunch around the corner. 

Lunch turned into you straddling Carmen’s waist in the car while parked in the very back corner of the parking lot and riding him until your eyes watered and you couldn’t focus long enough to keep a rhythm. He wrapped his arms, such strong arms, around your waist and fucked up into you for all that he was worth. Trying to prove himself in whatever capacity you allowed. 

If he couldn’t love you like he wanted, he could at least fuck you better than anyone else would.

Once you two broke the seal of seeing each other it was hard to stop. There was almost a forbidden aspect to your relationship now that caused a small thrill to run down your spine every time you saw him late at night. You were pretty sure no one knew you started… Seeing each other again and you were both content keeping it a secret. 

So that’s how you ended up here. Standing across from him at 11 o’clock at night on a random Wednesday. You try not to wonder if he left ‘early’ the second you reached out, instead convincing yourself that it just so happened to work out he was ready to go within minutes of you sending your ‘My place tonight?’ text during this horrific blind date your co-worker set up. 

Jonathan, 6’1, finance major turned CPA for his family’s company. He was… Fine. Just fine. You left on good terms in case you wanted to call on him for back up one lonely night. The problem was no one else was Carmen no matter how hard you tried to look for him in the people that passed by.

And there he stood across from you with hair falling into his face and his eyes looking up at you like you’re crafted from Heaven. A skirt, thin tinted tights, a shirt that exposed just enough skin but not too much. The soft shimmer across your eyelids and glossy lips from the lip balm you’ve been continuously applying since you knew he was on the way. The last time he saw you like this was when you were fighting because Carmen accidentally showed up 15 minutes past when you were supposed to leave for a birthday party at your friend’s house and that night ended with you locking him out of the bedroom while he had to pretend he couldn’t hear you crying in the next room. He really didn’t mean to be late. Sometimes the nights just got taken away from him. 

Carmen hated that you were dressed up for someone else but he pretends you just threw this on for him.

Your arms cross your chest, totally not attempting to push up your breasts, and you let out a sigh while you stare at Carmen. “This has to be the last time.” His face is stoic, a perfect poker face. The last time? Break up or not he couldn’t imagine there being a last time he saw you. Half the time he forgets, still referring to you as his partner while brushing it off and refusing to correct himself. Then there’s times where he comes home to his empty apartment and realizes you weren’t there to light the long forgotten candles on the coffee table or open up the windows to air the place out. 

He closes the space between the two of you and stares at your face. Searching for answers he’s too scared to ask for. Your resolve is breaking, cracking under the weight of having him so close. Beautiful eyes staring at you, the way he smells like the cologne you bought for your last anniversary and clean laundry. If you weren’t so drunk on the sight of him you would have put it together that Carmen kept clean clothes at the Bear to make sure he could change before he came to see you. 

You’re both silent for a moment before there’s two hands wrapping around either side of your neck and Carmen’s dragging you two together for a kiss. God, he couldn’t stand the idea of someone else kissing you. Would they even do it right? Do they know the way you moan when he licks into your mouth or the way you always grab ahold of his wrists when he cups your face? Do they know the way you forget to breathe sometimes when you’re lost in it? He’d have to pull back in order to give you a second to gasp in a rush of air. Does whoever you were with tonight know any of that? 

You pull away from Carmen with a broken out moan, silva connecting your mouths and the faint taste of cigarettes on your tongue from him. Clamping your hands on his shoulders you just faintly push the two of you apart, trying desperately to collect your thoughts. Carmen crying during the break up, sobbing in your bed, living on autopilot for weeks, the way he kisses you like he’s scared it’s the last time anymore because it very well just might be. Everything coming back to you in flashes as he stands before you once again. 

“I called you here for a reason, Carm.” His eyebrow is cocked, eyes flickering down to the bulge in his jeans that started growing the second he kissed you. “Uh - Yeah? Isn’t that what… I thought that’s what we were doing?” Carmen’s leaning in again, letting his lips connect to your neck. Warm kisses being pressed in a path up to just below your ear. “No uh, oh, remember how you let me keep the cast iron?” He hums in response, teeth nipping at your earlobe while broad hands start grabbing at your waist. “Yeah, uh huh, the cast iron skillet.” Fuck the stupid cast iron. He’s much more concerned with hooking fingers in the waistband of your skirt, attempting to pull it down while you’re fighting to stay focused. 

“Well my friends came over the other night and oh Jesus.” He’s licking a strip up your neck now, only half focused on your story. “Carm, please, they were helping me clean up and someone left it soaking in hot water overnight.” That’s finally got him freezing in place, his aroused little sounds quickly turning into a groan of annoyance. “Fuck. That ruined-… I mean, the seasoning has to be ruined. Assuming it rusted?” You nod helpless, fingers dragging along his chest while Carmen stares over your shoulder.

His eye twitches involuntarily. 

There’s a deep sigh coming from his body as he steps around you, finally kicking off his long forgotten second shoe before walking further into the apartment to head towards the kitchen. 

And listen, it wasn’t that you were necessarily concerned so much with the pan. Sure the two of you had purchased it together during the first few weeks of talking. Carmen cooked breakfast with it every Tuesday morning and showed you how to care for this damn pan. It was the closest you two came to owning a pet just… In the form of a nine inch cast iron skillet. You were more curious if he would care. A simple way of testing the waters to see if he just cared about getting laid or still cared about you. The answer should have been obvious but you still had to know.

You follow behind him and wince at the stream of expletives that easily fall from his tongue at the sight of the pan in the sink. It wasn’t horrible but wasn’t ideal. “Y’know, crazy thing is I’m pretty sure I can guess who did this. They kept trying to convince me cast iron wasn’t any different from a standard pan no matter how many times I tried convincing them that just wasn’t the case.” He’s grumbling to himself while crouching down to fish out supplies from under the sink, easily navigating your apartment from memory. The two of you had bounced between your places and talked about moving in together once his lease was up. Going as far as touring a few locations but the conversation was long forgotten once the tensions started building. 

As much as Carmen claims he didn’t see it coming, he resigned his lease almost two weeks before the break up officially happened. 

You hop up onto the counter next to the sink and watch as Carmen gets to work restoring your pan. “Think it's gonna make it through? I can't believe this is how it might end for the poor thing. All because I wanted to make your chicken piccata.” A few of his recipes had stuck with you and sometimes you find yourself making them when you’re missing him extra at night. 

“Nah, it’ll be fine. Just some surface damage s’all.” You watch as the muscles in Carmen’s arm move with the scrubbing motion, your lips itching to kiss over every exposed tattoo. Snap out of it! This is just sex between two consenting adults trying to let off some steam. That’s all. You’re both just comfortable and it would take way too much effort for someone random like Jonathan to learn what you like. 

Carmen catches you staring at him, not that you were being subtle about it, and feels heat blooming in his chest. He grabs one of your kitchen towels and gives the skillet a good pat down before sitting it upside down to dry off. It’s not perfect, not yet at least, but he’s pretty sure he’ll explode if it takes any longer to finally get his hands on you. 

“You look pretty tonight.” He’s coming to stand between your knees, reaching up to you with the hem of your skirt as you hum out a small “Thank you.” It seems like every time you see him lately you forget just how blue his eyes are. So easy to get lost in them especially from this close. Your hands come up to gently trace the features of his face. Just the ghost of a touch but Carmen’s soaking up the affection. He tilts his head in order to press a kiss to your palm. 

His hands are dragging up your thighs, feeling the material of your tights under his touch. “Know how much you hate wearing these.” Your heartbeat is picking up so much it’s making you jittery, hands wrapping around the edge of the countertop to grip it as hard as you can. Keeping yourself steady. “Help me take ‘em off?” You arch your hips up off the counter as an invitation for Carmen. He’s wasting no time grabbing ahold of the waistband and dragging them down your body, groaning to himself as inch by inch your skin gets exposed to him. 

Neither of you miss the way you press your thighs together once they’re freed, hips twitching in anticipation. The tights are getting tossed across your apartment and left to be tomorrow’s problem. Carmen falls to his knees in front of you, letting them dig into the harsh tile of your kitchen while in pursuit of making his mark on you. He’s grabbing ahold of your ankles, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder while the other is brought up to his lips. 

Your eyes fall closed as Carmen starts trailing a string of delicate kisses along the length of your calf. His lips ghosting across your knee until he reaches the fleshy part of your thigh. While your hands finally escape the countertop and find their way laced into Carmen’s hair, he wraps his lips down against your thigh to start sucking a small bruise into your skin. “Carmy,” You hiss out, “What if I see Jonathan again? How am I gonna explain these?” But you’re not pulling his head away, instead doing quite the opposite by keeping his head in place. 

Carmen practically growls against your skin, a low and guttural sound coming from the man. His grip on you tights while he mumbles against you, “Fuck Jonathan.” You scrub your fingers against his scalp as Carmen finds another patch of skin on the opposite thigh to begin sucking a bruise into. His head ducking lower and lower under your skirt, the material finally getting you to pull your hands away from him.

Against all better judgment your thighs fall more open as he works his way down your thighs. There’s a series of small moans and whimpers coming out of you with no control as he reaches the top of your thigh, his nose dragging along the cloth covering your core. “D’you wear these for him? Or did you put them on knowing you’d end up texting me.” It’s impossible to answer when you feel his tongue drag along you, your hips rocking up towards his mouth. He’s bringing his hands up under your skirt now too and grabbing handfuls of where your thighs meet your hips to hold you down in place. 

“They’re purple, aren’t they?” A color Carmen had long ago decided he liked best on you. Something about the way the color compliments your skin… In all honesty, you were pretty sure he had purchased the exact pair you were wearing. You started the night with no intention of your date getting anywhere near your bed but instead being under the frame of the man who was exactly where you wanted him. 

He guides you to scoot you closer towards the edge of the counter, making sure you’re comfortable before mouthing over you once again. Hot, open mouth kisses being pressed almost exactly where you need them. One of his hands comes around your frame to grab a handful of the fleshy part of your ass while the other hooks a finger into your underwear, pulling the material to the side to expose you. 

There’s cool air being blown against your overheated body and your hands fly back to clutch at his back, his neck, the hair that’s exposed from under your skirt. Whatever inch of him you can find is being clung to like a lifeboat. He’s kissing the skin where your thigh meets your center, lips ghosting along the outer side of your folds. It only takes a few more pathetic whimpers before he finally takes pity on you and you feel his tongue go flat at the base of your hole, dragging up long and slow all the way to your clit. 

He groans into your core and the vibrations make you start to lose your mind. “Fuck. Fuck!” Carmen’s got your clit between his lips now, bobbing his head just slightly while he goes right to sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves. If you didn’t want to be teased then he’d give you everything you wanted. One of his hands comes up under his chin now, a finger pressing into your tight entrance as his tongue works to lap at your clit, your folds, even dipping into you whenever his finger pulls all the way out.

A second finger slides into you while his attention focuses back to making out with your clit. You can’t keep track of the way he alternates between kissing and licking at you while his fingers push in as deep as he can get them. “So good, Baby.” Baby. It comes out of you by force of habit and it makes him twitch in his boxes. If you weren’t so drunk on him you probably would have started overthinking but he’s making sure your focus is on nothing else but his mouth for now. Carmen’s chin is slick with everything you’re giving him as he eats you out as if he’s a dying man and this is his last source of solace in the world.

“C’mon Honey.” He’s cooing against you, fingers crooked just how he knows you like it. There’s sloppy licks being delivered to your clit as his fingers pump in and out. His hand finally leaves it’s grip on your ass to apply a gentle pressure to the top of your mound, pressing down against the flesh to add yet another sensation. “Can feel how tight you’re getting. You wanna come for me so bad, don’t you? Be good for me.” 

Your hands fist around Carmen’s hair, hips rocking up against him and it doesn’t take long for an orgasm to wash over your body. You seize up at the feeling, thighs clamping around Carmen’s head as he licks you through it. He’s only giving you a moment to recover when you feel his fingers slide out of your sensitive body and he can’t help but go back to licking out the mess you’ve made.

“Gonna fuckin’ kill me, Carmen.”

He’s smirking against you but taking the hint. Your thighs shaking as he pulls back from under your skirt, taking a moment to appreciate the handiwork that was the bruises covering your thighs while you take a moment to recover. The way your pussy looks so pretty covered in the mixture of your arousal and his spit. Carmen can’t help himself but to swirl his thumb around your clit, your hips jolting up as you reach out to grab ahold of his wrist. “Need a minute please.” 

Carmen nods and stands up, wasting no time making work of unbuckling his belt. You collect your thoughts well enough to start unbuttoning his jeans for him, letting your fingers linger on his jean clad hardened length. “You, uh -” You won’t meet his eye, opting instead to start pulling his pants down his toned thighs. “You still okay not using a condom?” A roundabout way of saying ‘I’m clean, are you?’. Carmen nods as if it’s the most insane question in the world. Even if he’s not with you anymore, it’s still only you for him for as long as he can see coming. “No one but you.”

You can’t meet his eye, a wave of guilt washing over you concerning your earlier date with Jonanthan that quickly gets pushed away when Carmy grabs ahold of your jaw and brings you in for a haphazard kiss. Mindless, heavenly kissing. The two of you getting lost in the way your tongues know just how to navigate one another while your hand slides into his boxes and begins lazily 

“Gotta fuck you or I’m gonna cum on your hand like a fuckin’ teenager.” You giggle into his mouth but slide yourself off the counter nonetheless. Giving him one more tender kiss before turning around to bend yourself over the counter. It’s not the most gracious process but you’re tugging your shirt over your head on the way down, pitching it somewhere else to deal with later. 

He’s looking at every inch of you. Underwear still pulled to the side, the way the lace of your bra looks against your back. Memorizing every detail he possibly can just in case you wise up and stop letting him come over to defile you like this at night. 

Carmen is dragging the head of his cock through your folds, tapping it against your clit while you whine and rut back against him. The weight of his jeans and belt resting heavy against his ankles and keeping him grounded enough to not spill his load before he even makes it inside of you. You weren’t used to taking him all the time anymore, a thought Carmen can’t dwell on, so he goes inch by inch and gives you time to adjust to the girth of him. He was thicker than anyone you’d been with before and every random hookup together lately reminds you of the first time you felt him stretch you out. 

It burns in the best way possible and he’s so tender while you get adjusted. Waiting until you start fucking yourself against his length to take that as his sign you were finally ready for him. Carmen still starts slow, a teasing pace of pulling himself nearly all the way out before sinking right back in. “Pussy’s like heaven.” It makes you oddly proud to hear him call that out. To know you still have an affect on him after all this time.

“Think about fuckin’ you all the time.” He’s picking up speed now, “Think about how good you feel stretched around me. Such a good slut for me, aren’t you? Bending over and practically begging for it.” His words, once again, make your head spin. It was a common theme with Carmen. Your fingers lace in your own hair, desperate to grab ahold of something. “Always wanting you to fuck me, Carm. Dream about how good you make me feel.” Like you two were meant to fit together perfectly. 

There’s a lewd clapping noise coming from the way your ass smacks against his frame with each deep thrust. Eventually your arms give out, torso falling flat against the shockingly still cool countertop while Carmen fucks into you for all he’s worth. A firm slap is being delivered to your ass that causes you to yelp out, rolling your hips back against him at the same time as an act of encouragement. 

His mind is taken up with how good you feel. You’re perfectly stretched around him and leaking out around his base. So wet, so beautiful, so perfect. There’s a hand sliding up your back until it’s fisting around your hair, gently tugging at it and the new sensation has these pornstar worthy moans escaping you. Your loud and needy brain is completely empty as Carmen destroys you the way he knows how. 

“D’you think about me fucking you while you were sitting across from some asshole all night? Poor little pussy almost got fucked by someone who doesn’t know how to treat it.” His words are so casually spoken with just the right amount of bite that it’s causing your brain to melt. Jonathan didn’t stand a chance of getting within two feet of your panties, just another mindless date in your series of attempted ways to ‘get over Carmen’ which clearly wasn’t going well. He bottoms out in you, every inch of his length pressed as firmly as he can into your core. It’s so much, so full and he’s got you pinned in place. Unable to do anything but be used by him, just how you both know you love to be. “Or did you go just to make me jealous? Put on your slutty little panties and went to dinner knowing you’d text me to come fuck you tonight.” 

He’s grinding his hips into you on the impossible quest to get even deeper. It’s possessive, claiming, and you’d probably even be a little annoyed by his behavior if you were in a better state of mind. For now you’re bent over the counter with bruises blooming all over your thighs and enjoying an odd jealous streak coming from someone who, technically, has no right to be jealous. It’s making you feel dizzy and your heart throb and your pussy clenching around him. “You gonna keep talking or you gonna fuck me, Carm? ‘Cause if not I’ll call him to finish the job.” 

You liked riling him up. 

Another sharp smack is being dealt to your ass when Carmen starts to pick the pace back up. His hands are tight on your hips and his pace is brutal. There’s grunts coming from behind you that are making your head spin and if you were more coherent you’d be a bit more embarrassed about the drool sliding from the corner of your mouth as your boyfrie-….. Well, as Carmen takes care of you. He’s admiring the bloom of his handprint on your skin, brushing his hand along it before pressing firmly down to help soothe the buzzing sting of pain. 

He wasn’t fucking you as often, didn’t have you nearly as well trained anymore. These bi-weekly meetings are not doing nearly enough for your body. He used to be able to fuck you right through an orgasm and you’d keep going. So used to him working your oversensitive clit to his liking. Now you whine while grabbing his wrist and whimper out pleas for him to give you a few minutes. He hates not knowing your body as well as he used to even if he still knows you pretty damn well.

So when he feels you getting closer, he’s taking note. Keeping his pace exactly the same and letting his hand crash down against the tender flesh of your ass again. “You gonna give me another? C’mon, Honey. Can feel how bad you need it.” And you do. God you need every orgasm you’re lucky enough to get from him. 

Your hips buck and twitch and you let out a series of uncontrolled moans as your orgasm starts to wash over your body. If Carmen wasn’t between your legs then your thighs would have snapped shut while your toes curled and your heart started beating faster. You could practically hear it beating in your own ears. “S’good, so good. Thank you, thank you. Shit, thank you.” A mess but you couldn’t judge yourself. 

Carmen’s pulling out when he’s close after just a few more strokes, frantically jerking off his length to keep the sensation going. You’re rolling your hips back and riding out the waves of your own orgasm, glancing back over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of Carmen with his head tossed back and brows knitted together in concentration. “Come on me, Baby. Wanna feel every drip on my skin. Maybe I’ll let you take a picture of it dripping down all the pretty bruises you gave me.” 

That’s all it takes for him to come undone. Warm spurts of cum landing along your back, your thighs, some of it dripping down your folds. The feeling is pulling wanton moans from your mouth that send Carmen into orbit. God, he doesn’t want to come back down to Earth. Collecting his breath and trying to keep himself upright while the aftershocks of his orgasm wrack through his body. How was he supposed to stay away from you when it felt like this? Especially when you just kept calling him baby.

He stopped cumming inside of you since the breakup. It made sense, kinda. But you hated it. Felt like a waste even though you wouldn’t overstep and ask for him to go back to finishing inside of you. He would, by the way. Without a second thought he’d bury himself in until he couldn’t go any further and fuck his cum into you as deep as possible. 

You feel a finger swiping up some of his cum off your backside and soon enough it’s pressed to your lips. Without a second thought you take the digit into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it while licking him clean. He wants some of it inside of you one way or another. A subtle way of still putting his claim on you.

The two of you take a moment to recover after Carmen pops his finger out of your mouth. His hands are running a circuit up and down the side of your thighs and torso, still enjoying the view of your body relaxed against the counter in front of him. The tile was starting to become painful as your stomach bent over it but you couldn’t bring yourself to move just yet. You didn’t fully trust your legs to support your weight without the counter for support. 

Carmen’s rustling around behind you now. Reaching down to pull up just his boxes but kick his jeans the rest of the way off finally. He’s not ready for the stimulation of such a heavy material against his sensitive skin yet. There’s a clattering from the sink area as he retrieves another towel to get wet for you and a cup to fill with water. Your eyes feel heavy. Mind’s at ease having Carmen around again, not that you’ll admit it, and your body feeling languid after being fucked so well. 

There’s a glass of water being sat in front of you. “Drink.” So you prop yourself up on your elbows and nurse small sips of the water while the cool rag gets to work wiping down your backside from the mess he made. His fingers ghost along the tender flesh of your ass where he was spanking, “Feeling alright?” You hum into the cup, giving him a small waggle of your behind to reassure any concerns he had. 

He gets you cleaned up in silence, letting the both of you enjoy the simple moment. Carmen always prided himself on taking care of you. There’s warm hands, still damp from cleaning you up, rubbing up the sides of your torso before wrapping around the tops of your shoulders. His hips rub along your backside and you just feel so warm, so safe like this. “We gotta get you to bed.”

You just sigh and scrub your hands over your face. A beat of silence passes while you collect your thoughts. “Carm, I don’t think I can stand up.” Your legs are still slightly shaking and your mind has yet to catch up with your body. 

Laughter’s coming from behind you as he delivers a playful swat to your ass. “C’mon I’ll get you there.” This feels so simple. You find yourself questioning why the two of you even broke up to begin with when the good moments were this good. Easy, content, safe. Would you ever be able to find this again? Would he? 

He’s grabbing ahold of your waist while pulling you back into his chest. Your head falls back against his shoulder and Carmen allows his lips to once again find your exposed neck. A series of gentle kisses being placed as his arms snake tighter around your body. “Still feeling okay?” You let out a content hum and allow yourself to be held by him. “Feel better than I have all week. Thank you, Carm.” You feel him smile against your skin as he places another delicate kiss. “Always.”

The two of you stay intertwined until Carmen starts to encourage the shuffle towards your bedroom. He makes sure you get cleaned up and ready for bed. Brings you one of your sleep shirts while you brush your teeth and tries to not overthink when you offer him a toothbrush of his own because you just so happened to have an extra. Gives you privacy when you complain about needing to pee and you find it odd there’s a tug at your chest when he ducked out of the room. Part of you hated being that couple who left the door open or used the restroom while the other showered, yadda yadda. It was a sign of comfort and the door being pulled shut behind Carmen was a sign that comfort was long gone. 

Not that you cared. Totally didn’t care at all. 

He’s going to just tuck you in at first until you’re clutching at his frame and pulling him into bed next to you. Carmen never could say no when it came to you, especially when he feels his back sinking into your soft bed and your warm body curling up along his side. He should go. Get home before it’s too late and try to get some sleep. He’s already planning on getting to work early to avoid having too much free time to think about tonight in detail. 

But his clothes feel so far away and the long day is starting to finally hit him. You can practically hear him thinking over his options and your breathing starts skipping as you feel him begin to pull away. 

“Carmen.” Your grip on his chest tightens and it pulls directly at his heart. Since this whole… Situation started he never stayed the night when your meetings would run this late. Always picking his clothes up out of piles on the floor and mumbling something about needing to get home to get stuff together from work. You never asked him to stay anyway. Neither of you knew if that would make an already weird and complicated situation even worse. 

But tonight was different. 

There were hints of a storm in the distance you start telling yourself. If you focused you could hear thunder, somewhere, out there and you just wanted Carmen safe for his sake. That’s all. So you pathetically cling to him and hope you don’t kick yourself out of embarrassment in the morning. It takes just a moment of him looking down at you to understand what you can’t say and he’s giving you a little nod in response. His arms wrap around your shoulders, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of your head. Kissing every inch of you had to be one of his greatest pleasures in life.

“Remind me to season that skillet in the morning.” 

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Carmen, shockingly, sleeps through the night. The warmth of your body next to him coupled with your excellent sleeping experience. A comfortable bed with good pillows, a white noise machine in the corner of your room (the ice maker in the fridge at Carmy’s would constantly go off so you got used to sleeping with background noise to cover it up), it was the best night of rest he’s had in months.

Your sheets smell like home. 

He’s slowly waking up now and his first thought is how much he misses the weight of your breast in his hand. Second thought is how much he needs to pee but damn your bed is comfortable. 

Carmen allows his body to wake up slowly. Stretching his arms out above his head and letting out a satisfied grunt at the feeling of his well rested muscles. Blinking his eyes awake just enough to take in the sight of all the trinkets and items that covered your space. There’s some things he notices that he knows for a fact he purchased you. Bottles of perfume, books you keep telling yourself you need to read, cups you constantly forget to bring back into the kitchen until you’re fully out of them.

Did you keep any of the pictures? Photo strips from Navy Pier and the holiday market at Wrigley Field. Everything from the disposable camera you brought along on road trips and vacations. The polaroids that once littered a cork board in your living room that the two of you added pictures to so often. If he looked around enough would he find them tucked away safely in a box or did you pitch them when you knew the two of you were through. 

Carmen still has one. You took most of them while you packed up your things from his place and refused to let him carry any of the boxes downstairs. So stubborn, so full of hurt pride. He just spent most of the day trying to stand out of your way but always available in case you finally admitted that you needed help. Maybe a small part of him hoped that as you packed up so many memories it would trigger a ‘What are we doing?’ reaction and you’d go running into his arms. 

You never did. 

But you did take one trip down to your car with an overstuffed Ikea bag over your shoulder and balancing a box on your hip. Carmen knew he didn’t have long, and it kind of felt like stealing, but he rushed over to the box you just started packing up and rifles through the photos as fast as he possibly could. It took a moment of digging before there it was. A polaroid photo someone took of the two of you on New Year’s Eve. You’re wearing some cheesy headband and he has those tacky sunglasses on that show off the incoming year on them. His arms are wrapped low around your waist as he stands behind you, one of your hands resting on top of his while the other is reaching up and back to cup his jaw. You’re both grinning and laughing in the photos and nothing bad has happened yet. 

He hears you shuffling back up the stairs so he’s quickly throwing the box back together after sliding the photo into his pocket and rushing back to stand in the kitchen. Acting like nothing was happening. You didn’t even look over at him so it wasn’t like he had to put up much of a show anway.

It’s still safely tucked into his wallet. 

The sound of the front door opening and hushed whispers are finally pulling him from his half asleep, reflective state. It looks like this day is getting started if he wants it to or not. He’s tilting his head to press it into the pillow underneath him, allowing one last deep inhale to remind himself exactly what your scent smells like before forcing his body to be pushed out of your bed.

Carmen turns the corner in just his boxer briefs and you’re not convinced you aren’t still dreaming because fuck he looks good. His hair’s a mess from the combination of you playing with it all night and him sleeping so well. One of his hands is scratching low on his hips while he takes in the sight of you in the kitchen. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be so comfortable walking around your apartment half dressed still but God is this relationship situation getting messier since the day since the two of you reconnected.

“Ordered some breakfast from Yolk. Figured you were hungry and I’m sure you have to run off this morning but I uh-…. I just wanted to make sure you were fed.” You nod to yourself. Giving him an out as you start popping open food boxes. There was just over an hour until you had to get to work too so there were multiple excuses possible for this morning to end as early as it needed to. 

In an odd, roundabout, time to head back to therapy kind of way it almost feels like you’re dating your ex. 

“Yeah.” He nods to himself and desperately wishes he had deodorant, cologne, fuck even Axe body spray. Something to make himself smell better or feel more presentable for you. “Richie actually tried installing fuckin’ bidets to the toilets last night. Kept on running his mouth about how prestigious they are and he, obviously, doesn’t know how to install bidets. So the bathrooms are a little-“ He waves his hands through the air.

“Shitty?” 

Second questionable pun you’ve made lately. Pull it together. 

There’s a breathy little laugh coming out, “Yeah, shitty.” Carmen’s peeking over your shoulder as you plate up breakfast, sneaking a piece of bacon from under your arm before pressing a kiss to the top of your ear. “Thank you for ordering this.” 

You nod and try to pretend you didn’t stop breathing having him so close to you under the soft morning light. 

He leaves $60 tucked under a vase on your dining table to cover breakfast. 

————

11:52 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Richie put his foot down and we’re stuck getting the bidets 

[DO NOT ANSWER]: If you’re wondering how my day is going 

12:17 pm

Shockingly my day is much less toilet related. I hope it’s going well. 

4:39 pm 

[DO NOT ANSWER]: I know so much about bathrooms now

————

You laugh a little too loud as the alert illuminates your phone. There’s a fond tugging at your heart as the ‘normal’ conversations fills your chat history instead of the short “My place tn” or “I still can’t find my jacket. You have to have it”. Maybe saving him as do not answer seemed too harsh but having his contact show up as a photo of you two cuddled up with the Chicago skyline in the background, an innocent and horrifically cheesy “Baby Boy 💙” contact name modeled after Richie saying you baby him too much one night. Every time it flashed across your screen and Richie saw he gave you guys an endless amount of shit. It became a constant bit that none of you got tired of at the time. 

You were trying to separate yourself from your past with him as much as possible at first but now those lines just keep getting more and more blurred. 

One of your coworkers grabs your attention away from your phone thus leaving Carmen’s message on read. He tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him as he gets to work prepping for tonight’s service. Who wants to talk about bathrooms with their… Fuck buddy? Ex? God that’s still so weird to say. 

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Your mind was haunted by thoughts of Carmen Berzatto all day. 

No matter how many busy tasks you assigned yourself he always seemed to creep back in. You’d look around for him when a joke landed well at work and the group you were with erupted into laughter. Could easily picture his head thrown back as he scrubs over his face in an attempt to muffle the sound. When you were standing alone your mind wandered off to the way he treated you last night. So claiming. Expertly working your body the way only he could after so much time of getting to know it. 

The bed feels so much 

You throw the blanket away from your frame and watch as it bundles up beside you. Is this crazy? It feels crazy. You shake out the nerves, fluffing up your shorts and primping yourself for the photo. It takes one, two, seven pictures to get just the right angle. An image of your thighs against the bedding and your oversized sleep shorts bunched up all the way down your legs. Taking a deep breath you steel your spine and pull up Carmen’s contact.

————

11:28 pm 

Headed to bed 

ONE IMAGE ATTACHED

11:29 pm 

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Fuck.

11:31 pm

Goodnight Carmen <3

2:12 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Can’t stop thinking about you 

ONE VIDEO ATTACHED

————

The sun is warm against your skin as it slowly wakes you up. There’s an air purifier rattling in the corner that acts half as white noise while you sleep, half to soak up the smells of Chicago. Sometimes when Carmen’s especially exhausted you have to bring out the big boy and ask your Google home to play sleep sounds to mask him snoring all night. You typically didn’t mind the sound, knowing it’s a sign of just how badly he needed a good night’s rest. 

You’re fishing your phone out of the comforter in a haste to click off the horrific sound of the alarm and your eyes are barely open when you see the alert. A preview image popping up and you can just barely a blurry image of - “Holy fuck!” 

Your free hand flies up to clamp over your mouth as a mix of gasps and ‘no fucking way’ come out of you with zero control. With shaking hands you open up the video, half tempted to pinch yourself with a video of Carmen fills your screen. His hand rubbing over the bulge in his boxers and there’s a mess of shaky breathing coming from behind the phone. You can’t get the volume turned all the way up fast enough and you’re terrified to miss a single sound. 

And there he is. 

Fishing his cock out of his boxers and stroking himself for you. Illuminated by the lamp on his bedside table and his hand over lubricated to mimic how wet you get for him. He’s a mess of filthy moans, bucking hips, are you dreaming? 

The combination of the sun beating in and the way this video is making your body go hot is too much. You’re overheating, kicking the blankets away from you while your hand goes into your shorts on instinct. Toying with your clit even though you don’t have much time to spare as you watch Carmen get off for you.

————

8:04 am

HEART REACTED TO A VIDEO

Mine tonight?

Fuck you sound so good

Wish I would have been there to clean you up

Say my name more next time please

How am I supposed to go to work now 

————

No response. You aren’t surprised, he’s typically busy in the morning. 

So you go along your day and let yourself enjoy the thought of Carmen coming back over tonight to take care of you. You had thought letting him back in was a risky move but things seemed fine so far. Settling into the new version of what normal was going to look like. Maybe things would end up being some version of alright after all. 

A chirp from your phone catches your attention and you’re instantly uninvested in whatever task was at hand. It might be a little pathetic how excited you were but that is besides the point. 

————

10:32 am 

[CARMEN]: Busy tonight

————

Busy tonight? Go fuck yourself Carmen! 

You waited all morning and THAT’S the response you get? Were the multiple texts too much? Did you come off too clingy? Sure he just stayed the night, was two times in one week where he drew the line? 

So you leave him on read and take away the heart from his video. Change his name back to DO NOT ANSWER and instantly feel the urge to get off tonight leaving your body. Replaced by a subtle anger that only he can bring out of you. 

The workday seems to go by so much quicker as you have this internal argument with yourself and mentally pick a battle with Carmen. Maybe you were silly to think things would… What? Go back to the way they were? No, of course not. 

Ugh!

Carmen who, by the way, truly was slammed. Got stuck hosting an event for an old family friend that he barely knew but was convinced it’d be good for business. He’s overwhelmed by work and anxious with his relationship with you. The breakup was horrific. One of the worst things he’s had to experience so far which certainly says a lot. At the very least - It made sense. This though? Sleeping together, fucking when you have shitty dates and he’s your second choice for the night, taking pictures of dumb things he sees during the day because it made him think of you but never actually sending them, it made zero sense.

If only there was something the two of you could do to figure this whole mess out. 

But alas.

You bring home a salad that’s far healthier than anything you’ve eaten all week accompanied by some fresh pressed green juice nonsense you lie to yourself and mentally say is delicious. The boy detox starts now. 

The shower you take that night must last an hour. Every inch of your body gets scrubbed, your face and hair both get a mixture of treatments and masks. You primp and polish yourself up and convince yourself that this is all for you and not so you look better than ever and Carmen will have to regret his stupid and shitty ‘Busy tonight’ text because you were also just like so, so busy and -

Fuck Carmen Berzatto. 

You decide you could go the rest of your life without hearing from him and be just fine. It was his loss. You’re funny, beautiful, and excellent in the bedroom. There’s thousands of people out there dreaming about finding someone like you!

This internal argument keeps going. And you know what’s annoying? The second you fling yourself into bed you realize he left his scent all over your sheets still. It hasn’t gone away - Cologne mixed with Carmen. And you 100% aren’t hunting out the scent nor are you hunting out a reason to stay annoyed with him. Not at all. So you get back out of bed and grab the fabric freshener to spray your sheets back down with, giving it a minute to dry before falling face first into the mattress with an annoyed huff. 

So yeah, fuck him. You hope you never hear from him again and toss your phone on the other side of the bed. Forcing your eyes shut and making your mind go blank because otherwise you’ll stew all night thus continuing this Carmen induced spiral. 

————

1:47 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Hey

————

Fuck.

[johanna-swann]

You know, sometimes I think we as a fandom completely misjudge Buck when it comes to romantic things. In fanon he's often depicted as this clueless guy who needs to be hit in the face with a pick-up line before he notices someone's advances, but then again he's a really thoughtful and attentive partner who talks about his own feelings freely once he gets into a relationship. And then I look at canon Buck and like. Yeah, no, this is not that.

Buck is really good at picking up on sexual / romantic tension. He flirts constantly and recognises when his flirting is reciprocated. That's how he landed the snake-lady in 1x01, it's how he knew Abby was down for phone sex (or at least wouldn't dump him over bringing it up), it's how he got with Taylor, etc. Buck is good at the flirting part. The only reason he was so awkward around Tommy was that for the first time ever the target of his advances was a man.

He's terrible at gauging where his (more serious) relationships are at though. I doubt that Abby ever thought she'd be with Buck forever. She cared about him, sure, but let's be realistic. I don't think she saw a future where she'd eventually marry him and settle down with him. Buck on the other hand was full on in love with her, waited months and months for her to come back even after she broke off contact. And the hot air balloon ride was a huge gesture, but did he think it through? What if there had been an emergency with Abby's mother while they were up in the air instead of immediately before?

With Taylor I don't think he had any idea where that was going. They were attracted to each other, they had a lot in common and they both really wanted to make it work, but in the end they just weren't compatible. He was really bad at communicating with her, first invited her to that weird double date with Veronica and Albert without being up-front, then the thing with Lucy. And in the end they broke up over something he knew about her all along. He knew Taylor wanted to use the material from when Bobby was high on the gifted brownies back in the day, how was he surprised that this same basic conflict became an issue again?

And Natalia. He had coffee with her once and suddenly "she really [saw him]". Then he turned around and broke up with her because she talked too much the one topic over which they bonded in the first place. Death is her job. You having died is what got the two of you talking. You valued her insight on the topic at some point even. But then you act like it's an annoying hobby she won't stop talking about?

The same with Tommy. How did Buck spend 6 months dating that man - knowing from very early on that the man had issues, that he grew up in a regressive environment, served in the military as well as under Gerrard, came out rather late in life (only a few years ago), doesn't have much family - and then just jump the whole "move in with me, we can get married one day, we can spend the rest of our lives together" on Tommy instead of sitting down and having an open conversation about the future without any heavy expectations? How does he not know a single detail about Tommy's coming out story, about his exes, about what he wants out of this relationship?

Honestly. Buck means well, but he never thinks things through and is kind of a disaster when it comes to actually dating the partner he finds. It's like he's not dating the person, he's dating for the sake of dating.

[reiding-writing]

hello!!!! could i get a continuation fic for "breaking the ice"? this time it could be like after a hard case and reader actively seeks out spencer for comfort (CONGRATS ON 1K FOLLOWERS!!! <33)

BREAKING DOWN [CLIMACTERIC]

/ˈbreɪ.kɪŋ daʊn/

spencer just wants to be there for you when you need him, but you get overwhelmed by his constant worrying and push him away, only to crawl right back into his embrace when you really need it.

WARNINGS: fem!reader, reader is mean to spencer in the beginning but apologises later, child death, guilt, reader having an emotional breakdown, angst to hurt/comfort

spencer x cold!reader | hurt/comfort | 2.4k | climacteric event

a/n: hit two birds with one stone for this one, god sometimes i forget how much i like writing characters suffering man-

this fic is a continuation of ‘breaking the ice’, but can be read as a stand alone!

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ cold!reader masterlist!!

climacteric event masterlist!!

You felt like an idiot the first time Spencer caught you crying, failing to compose yourself in the office bathroom for no good reason and looking like an absolute wreck because your brain had just decided it wanted to ruin your day.

There’d been a few times since then when he’d caught you on the brink of a breakdown, but you’d masked them better the more he tried to look into your psyche.

“It’s okay not to be okay sometimes,” He said those few months ago. “I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

That was all said and good but it didn’t mean that you wanted him to be there whenever you were overwhelmed or emotional. Sometimes you needed the space to work through your emotions on your own.

“Reid. Leave me alone.” You turn to him sharply, impatience written all over your features.

He’d been asking you about your emotions for the past fifteen minutes after noticing you turn down one of the sugary treats Garcia had brought into the office and using the small amount of favouritism you had towards him as leeway in terms of you not getting angry.

But you had your breaking point even with him.

The harshness spilling from your lips wasn’t something that was ever directed at him, so much so that it actually took him a second to register that it was him you were snapping at and not some invisible person standing behind him.

He didn’t even have time to respond to you. You were already around the corner by the time he’d come back to his senses.

He didn’t bother you after that.

At all.

There was no small talk at the beginning of the office days, no conversations on the jet between cases. He stopped waiting for you before leaving the office and picking you up coffee on days he knew you’d be late.

It threw you back in time to the first few years of working with him. And it seemed that the rest of the team was feeling the inherent ‘nostalgia’ as well, and not in a good way.

The small lingering glances and silent conversations you’d engage in had completely disappeared, and not having Spencer has the bridge of proper communication between you and the rest of the team made merging your psychological profile with the main behavioural profile for your most recent case three steps longer than it needed to be.

Because he was basically refusing to speak to you. Following your instructions to a T.

It didn’t help that it was a child case either. You always seemed to have issues with those. You worked twice as fast, but also made twice as many mistakes, and without someone like Spencer to filter your thoughts through to make sure that they were all objective it meant that your profile was lagging behind.

The child you were looking for died before you found him.

And by the time you’d reached the jet to fly back to Virginia, you’d already internalised his death as your fault.

You kept yourself together through the airport, through boarding and take-off and until you watched your team members fall into a blanket of uneasy sleep as everyone tried to brush off the emotional wreckage that they’d seen over the last few days and detach themselves from the child they’d failed to save.

You were usually pretty good at that part.

Separating yourself from your work came naturally for you, and it was something you were extremely grateful for when getting rest after a particularly hard case. But children were different.

They always were. Especially when it felt like you had a personal hand in their death.

With an internal sigh you accepted your fate of staring at the beige walls of the jet’s cabin until you inevitably couldn’t take it anymore and barricaded yourself in the bathroom for the remainder of the flight.

Now’s about the time where you’d probably distract yourself by starting Spencer on a tangent. Getting him to talk about something that was completely unrelated to the case you’d just sat through to drown out the voices inside of your head and allow you to rest peacefully despite yourself.

But you couldn’t do that right now.

Half because Spencer was already asleep and half because you’d pushed him away.

And now you had to lie in the hole you’d created for yourself.

You didn’t even end up making it into the bathroom.

You curled your legs up into yourself in the corner chair you’d bagged yourself, rested your elbows on your knees, and covered your face with your palms as the tears started a steady flow down your cheeks.

It was honestly one of the worst feelings in the world. Curled up into yourself with your hands cupped over your mouth to keep your staggered breathing quiet enough to not wake the other agents sleeping around the cabin.

As you sat there, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you like a heavy blanket, you couldn't shake the feeling of regret for pushing Spencer away.

His concern was always genuine, his presence a source of comfort even when you didn't realise you needed it. Now, in the silence of the jet cabin, his absence felt like a void.

Each tear that slipped from your eyes felt like another weight added to the burden you were already carrying.

The familiar ache in your chest threatened to consume you as you struggled to contain the flood of emotions threatening to spill over and wake your teammates.

Despite the exhaustion pulling at your bones, sleep remained unobtainable, lost in the emotional maze of regret and self-blame that you’d managed to lose yourself in to the point where you couldn’t even stand up to give yourself some privacy.

You felt utterly alone, isolated by your own actions in every sense of the word. Each passing minute stretched on for what felt like hours, dragging you deeper into the abyss of your thoughts.

You weren’t quiet enough apparently, and you hear a small shift from the long sofa to your right as your emotional breakdown seemingly catches someone’s ears to the point where they’ve woken up.

“…are-” Spencer’s voice is quiet and mildly groggy as he wakes from the sounds of your internal anguish, and he cuts himself off before getting his whole question out.

You wanted him to leave you alone.

“sorry…” He shifts onto his side until his back is facing you, not wanting to pry if you were uncomfortable with it but also not willing to watch you break down if he knew he couldn’t do anything about it.

“I’m not okay Reid…” Your words are caught in between stunted breaths and shaking movements. “I need help-”

Your words sent an ache right through his heart that made him think it was going to split in two. He can hear the tremor in your voice, the shakiness in your tone as you force yourself to be vulnerable with him. And it makes him want to join you in a fit of tears.

If you were actively reaching out like this, it had to be bad.

“I know…” His voice is barely above a whisper as he slowly turns his body, still hesitant to look you in the eyes but wanting to see your expression.

He doesn’t know if you want comfort or advice, but he knows which he’d prefer to give as his eyes land on your face and take in the sight of you, curled up into yourself with tear stains tracking down your cheeks in the cabin’s low lighting.

“But I don’t know how to…” The silence is the worst part of the conversation from his end of things – a silence that was deafeningly loud. His eyes dart between the cabin door and you.

But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t get up, or get closer. He just stays put.

He doesn’t know what to do.

“Tell me how to help you…”

“I don’t-” You barely get the chance to start speaking before your crying renders you effectively mute, your throat filled with sobs that leave your mouth into the palm of your hand as you attempt to silence yourself and not ruin anyone else’s slumber.

He can see your fingers trembling as you hold back the noise. From across the aisle, Spencer watches the way you shake until his stomach ties in a knot just from seeing you distressed.

But there’s nothing he can do.

“Can I try something?” He murmurs his words softly, like he’s afraid of frightening you further as he pulls himself upright on the couch seat to plant his feet firmly on the floor.

You answer him with a nod, too unstable to even think about trying to answer him verbally under the threat of breaking down further.

He pads across the aisle deftly, taking a seat in the chair beside your own and deftly bringing his arm across the back of your shoulders to rub lines against your back.

It’s a somewhat pathetic pat, a mix of fatigue and hesitation mixing in his movements and making his attempt at comforting you feel clumsy and mildly awkward.

But he was trying, and that was the main point.

The awkwardness really held no ground under your inherent need to just feel comforted in the moment, and you take no note of it as you turn your head into Spencer’s shoulder with your hand still cupped over your mouth as you tremble under his arms.

His hand becomes a little more confident once you accept his attempts.

He didn’t know how to help you.

He didn’t know how to soothe you.

And the thought of not being able to save you from yourself was tearing him up inside.

But the least he could do was this.

Spencer’s touch is gentle as he places his other hand onto the back of your head, fingers brushing along your hairline as he encourages you further into his embrace.

There’s nothing he should say right now, nothing he could say right now.

Whatever would come from him would be a string of false assurances he wasn’t sure he would even believe himself.

Instead, he settles for the soft touches, his gentle fingers and trying to soften your breathless sobs into something less heartwrenching.

It felt mildly awkward to be the source of someone else’s comfort — he’d usually been on the receiving end of it — but it was working, and he could slowly feel your shoulders relax under his hands, your sobs reducing to small sniffles as you calmed under Spencer’s influence.

“Breathe…” He whispered the words quietly against the top of your head, making a show of taking deep breaths that you could feel against his chest as a silent instruction for you to mirror.

The rise and fall of his chest underneath your hand was crucial in helping you slowly regulate your breathing to match his, the remnants of sniffles that caught in your throat slowly dissipating until they were non-existent.

The peak of your distress slowly eludes you as you sink down to a gradual calm, and the harsh beating of your heart against your sternum was slowly regulating itself as well until it was soft enough that it didn’t ring in your ears.

Spencer remains quiet as he continues to rub gentle lines over your spine. If he kept you him his grasp like this for long enough, your fatigue might catch up to you and make you fall asleep. And that would be alright with him.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you for trying to help me,” You air out your half-apology once you’re confident enough that speaking won’t send you down another spiral, your words muffled slightly against his shirt.

It’s a sudden break to the small pocket of silence you’d created, and Spencer’s hand pauses for a fleeting second before continuing to trace its path over your back. “You were stressed and I pushed a limit, it was understandable…”

He wouldn’t lie to you and say that everything was alright and he didn’t take it personally. It did hurt for you to be so harsh to him, but hearing you try to apologise made it feel a little better at least.

“I just wanted to help…”

“I know…” You turn your head further into his shoulder until your face is hidden in the curve of his neck. “I’m sorry,”

Your apology, voiced properly this time, elicited a small sigh from his lips, and he adjusted his arm around you to accommodate the new position you were in.

The feeling of somebody leaning on him, relying on him so much for comfort was a rather novel experience. He liked his distance, his personal space, and his preference for not being touched always trumped anything else. But this was different.

“Don’t apologise…” Spencer shakes his head against yours as he murmurs out his words. “Just rest…”

You give him a small hum as your only indication of acknowledging his suggestion, letting out a small yawn into his neck as the consequences of your emotional breakdown catch up to you and riddle your body with fatigue.

You were practically melting into him by now, your weight resting against his side, but Spencer wasn’t complaining.

It made you seem so vulnerable, so small and relaxed and different from how you usually presented yourself to the world.

Once your yawn reached his ears he knew your body was preparing to slip into unconsciousness.

But he couldn’t bring himself to move away from you.

He’d seen you fall asleep before; he’d seen the way your mouth had parted slightly right before a small snore left your lips, the delicate rise and fall of your chest as your breathing evened out and the way your eyebrows furrowed when you fell into a dream.

He didn’t want to interrupt his comfort by moving away. So he didn’t. It wouldn’t hurt to hold you for a little bit longer.

[strawberrypoundtown]

Orc x Halforc!Fem!Reader

You're the clanleaders mixed race eldest daughter. Your older brother has one of his friends watch over you as you start to get eyed by other males in the clan, only for you to eye the rugged brute in charge of protecting you.

(Part 2 here)

Contains: sexual tension, nudity, mentions of biting and scratching

Being the clanleaders eldest daughter was difficult enough, but being a half orc made your daily life annoying. Your mother was a very beautiful and brave woman, especially considering your father was one of the most feared warriors in the world before meeting her. After they had met, your father doted on your mother constantly, and still does to this day. He's still a terrifying warrior, he just doesn't go on raids as much anymore.

However, as you got older, you realized that your parents had painted a picture of your innocence for you that made finding a a partner difficult. You had always been one of the best warriors among everyone else around your age when you were growing up, but your parents always acted like you were the most fragile little thing. So what if you broke your arm a few months ago while on a hunt that got out of hand? You didn't need to have your weapons and armor confiscated.

You let out a deep sigh and rubbed your eyes, before your tent flaps are rudely ripped open, earning a groan out of you. You stubbornly rolled over in your bed and pulled the blankets over your head, not even looking at who might have stumbled into your tent.

"Go away idiot. Let me sleep." You groaned, closing your eyes as you assumed it was one of your many siblings coming to wake you up way too early. You hear the person clear their throat and your eyes shoot open. 'That's not one of my siblings'

"Grobur asked me to come and get you. He wants to talk to you." You're thrown off by the deep voice that haunts your dreams and your cheeks flush. Why did your brother have to send him everytime?

Gan. You have had a crush on him for years. Almost as long as you can remember. He was only a couple year older than you and your brother Grobur's best friend since childhood. He was always so stoic and calm around you, even when you were kids. He was the only person that seemed to actually treat you like you could take care of yourself, while still being protective over you. You loved how protective he would get with you at times, making sure the other men stayed in their place when they went too far with you during practice. Seeing him spar and beat the crap out of the person that tried to beat you put a strange thrilling twist in your stomach. Watching him fight with no armor and barely any clothes, seeing his sweaty green skin glistening in the sun. Each muscle rippling as you would think about how gently he hugs you for a big brute like him. You had to stop watching him so much when you caught yourself drooling one day.

"Today, princess." He grumbled with a hint of sass, breaking you out of your daydream. It was his nickanem for you. It was his way of teasing you. He loved calling you princess, but you always wish he would call you his princess. You grunted and pout as you sat up in bed, staring up at him as you held the blanket up to cover your body. You had picked a bad night to go to bed naked.

"How about you get out so I can put on some clothes? I don't think Grobur would appreciate you parading me around camp naked." You giggled teasingly. His eyes widened, his mouth slightly agape before quickly coughing to cover his embarrassment and turning around to avert his eyes completely and to prevent pitching a tent of his own. He kinda wished you would show him your gorgeous, bountiful breasts, but then he quickly shoved that thought to the back of his head so he could speak

"I-I'm so sorry. I didn't realize. I'll be waiting outside for you." He said softly before leaving your tent. You sighed softly as you got up, slipping into some random clothes quickly, trying to calm your blushing face by rubbing your cheeks. After brushing your hair, you exit your tent and walk up to Gan. God he was massive. He was the largest male in the clan. Your eyes wander down his body briefly, wondering how big his di-

"Are you ready?" He asks you, interrupting your thoughts as you look back up at his face. He wasn't looking at you, seemingly trying to avoid looking at you while he took a step and started to walk ahead. You smile to yourself a little. Maybe you made him flustered?

"O-oh, uh, yes! Let's go." You stammer as you jump to follow him, doing a light jog to keep pace with him.

As you walk around camp, you don't notice the longing and lustful glances many of the males your age get on their faces as you walk by. The rugged orc leading you was the only male you had your eye on.

However, Gan does notice them. It infuriates him to no end that you're subjected to being seen by other males as a plaything, a trophy. None of them deserved you in his opinion. He could tell that in other males eyes, they just saw lust for you.

Gan made sure to look as intimidating as possible as he walked through camp with you, the other males quickly looking away from you when they saw him. When you started getting looks year ago, he started volunteering to escort you wherever you needed to go, under the guise of being sent there by your brother to make sure you were safe. He didn't trust anyone else to guard you, but him. Not like you particularly needed it. Your frame may only come up to his pecs, but you still had orc-like strength. You were strong even when you two were growing up, often besting him in sparring matches when you were little until he got too big for you to pin down.

His mind wanders until he remembers how your hair and clothes would get tousled around when you two had your last sparring match a few months ago. He loved it when you looked so determined in battle, licking and bearing your short, sharp tusks as you tried to catch your breath. Seeing you all sweaty, breathing heavily because of him drove him crazy. Your body was strong, but soft to the touch. Your curves drove him nuts and the muscles under your softness were to die for. You were so soft to him that it was like you could bruise at any moment, but you never did. He could throw you around for what felt like hours and you'd leave with barely a scratch, while he was left with your scratch marks and bites all over his arms and shoulders. Your sharp little tusks had left a few scars bethind over the years. You liked to fight dirty, and he loved it. He'd never admit it tho. He had to let you get him in a hold so he could tap out when he had noticed himself getting a bit too excited.

As you approached the large dining hall tent, you heard your brother and your parents talking happily at the head table, along with the rest of your siblings. Your brother is seated next to his wife, a stunningly beautiful female orc that waves to you with one hand, the other on her swollen pregnant belly.

"(Y/n)! Good morning!" She cheerfully greets. Everyone else at the table smiles at you and welcomes you to sit at the table. You wonder what they're so chipper about.

"Good morning everyone." You say softly before yawning, rubbing the last of the sleep from your eyes as you stood next to Gan.

"We have some good news for you sweetie." Your mom says with a smile. "You know how we've been worried about you getting a mate? Well, we decided to pick someone to watch over you-"

"Mom, I can take care of myself. I don't need someone watching over me all the time." You cut her off, already not wanting to entertain the idea of having a personal babysitter.

"(Y/n), we just want someone to keep an eye on you so no one tries to hurt you. We know you can take care of yourself, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't have someone watching out for you." Your brother says before rolling his eyes, his wife harshly nudging him with her elbow, making him grunt and clutch his side.

"I don't understand why you're so worried about me all the time. I rarely ever see anyone try to look at me, let alone talk to me!" You threw your hands up in the air in frustration, having absolutely no idea that you were standing next to the reason why.

"I don't think you realize how some of the other males have been looking at you lately. You're more than old enough to find a mate now, so males are going to start trying to get your attention more. Some of them might end up getting dangerous..." your mother said softly, an empathetic look on her face as she looked at you. She knew this frustrated you, but she wanted to make sure you were protected if anything were to go wrong. You looked back into her eyes and sighed softly. You knew it was better to have protection than not, and you knew they all meant well.

"I understand. I just hope it's temporary." You say with a hopeful smile, and your father nods.

"It will be. We promise. Once you've found a mate, your guard will be dismissed." Your father states and you let out a sigh of relief.

"Who's the poor sucker that has to try and keep track of her?" Your 13 year old brother chuckled to himself before shoving more food into his mouth, earning a punch to his shoulder from your 16 year old sister.

"I will be." The voice next to you states in a low grumble, glancing at you briefly with what you could swear was a small smirk.

God damn it

[metyouinthehallway]

𝒞𝒪𝐿𝒟 𝐼𝒩 𝐿𝒜

summary; matt & you have been hooking up for quite sometime now, you decide that now is as good as ever to tell him how you feel. even if he doesn’t reciprocate those feelings.

a/n: matt’s a bit of a dick in this, sorry😟

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Matt picked you up from your apartment an hour ago, at first, you two were aimlessly driving around Los Angeles until about twenty minutes ago when he found a secluded parking lot. He shifted the car into park and crawled into the backseat.

You followed, straddling his lap, a heated makeout session set about in the backseat of his car. Hands touching clothed skin and soft moans escaping both of your lips. You and him grasping onto any warmth possible, entangling yourselves in the pure bliss of each others presence. It being below 40 degrees in California led to the windows fogging up a lot quicker than usual.

Your lips dance with Matt’s, tugging at his hair, you find yourself needing him impossibly closer to you, needing to inhale his every minty breath and make this something more than it should be.

It’d been a few months since the two of you agreed on the whole friends with benefits arrangement. That’s all this was supposed to be though, just itching a scratch that both of you had. No feelings involved.

To Matt, that's exactly what this was. No feelings involved, no sappy, soft sex. None of that bullshit. He just wanted to get off every once in a while.

To you, it began as the same thing but, of course, you caught feelings. It made you feel disgusted in yourself, then it spiraled into shaming yourself for sleeping around with him. You hid it well though, Matt was completely oblivious to the fact that his friend had any emotional connection to him.

His hands roamed under your shirt, his fingers warming up your cold torso as he continued to kiss you, leaving a trail of wet, sloppy kisses down your jaw and neck.

“Matt…” You mumble. You couldn’t do it, not this time. You needed to tell him how you felt.

“Mhm?” He hums in response, his movements not stopping.

“N- need to talk to you…” Matt halts at those words, as any guy would. He looks up at you, his blue eyes boring into yours with concern. “I..” You start, unable to verbalize the thoughts that have been consuming your mind for the past few weeks.

“It’s just me, you can tell me anything.” Matt mutters, his arms wrapping around your waist. He was nervous, anticipating the next words to leave your mouth.

“Look,” You sigh, your hands anxiously toying with the hem of your shirt. “I’m really stupid, like insanely stupid. I…” You struggle to complete the sentence, hoping Matt would be able to piece this together for himself but his brows furrow, signaling for you to continue.

“I like you, Matt.” You rip the bandage off, the knot in your stomach continuously growing tighter as you wait for his response. He closes his eyes, throwing his head back onto the seat with an exaggerated groan.

“I thought we agreed to no feelings.” He simply states, eyes still closed, he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, but I can’t control the way I feel.” You frown, disappointed in his reaction, you climb off of his lap, sitting as far away from him as possible in the compact car.

“Okay, I get that, but come on y/n. We had something good goin’ here.” He opens his eyes, looking at you. His expression laced with disappointment and confusion, Did he do something? When did this even happen? What happens now? All questions that swarm his head.

You groan in annoyance, not sure what to say. What does one even say in response to that? You’re unable to think straight for a moment, blaming your heart for overtaking your actions.

“I’m sorry? It’s just… sometimes when we're-” You stop yourself from continuing the thought. You watch as he opens the car door, he slams it shut, returning to the driver's seat.

“Get up front.” Are the only words that leave his mouth, his tone more snappy now. You nod, feeling ashamed of yourself, sitting back in the passenger's seat. Matt starts driving onto the vacant streets of Los Angeles, the car looming with tension and unspoken words from both of you. The only sounds heard are the car moving along the pavement and the soft roar of the engine.

He reaches a stoplight, turning to look at you for a moment. The red rays from the traffic light illuminate his face as he opens his mouth to speak. “I guess I just don’t understand. We should stop doing this for a while if you feel that way.” He declares, feeling sad for a different reason than you.

“Probably, yeah.” You sigh, tucking you legs in front of your chest. Matt pulls up to your apartment complex, looking at you as if to say something but he decides against it.

“See ya soon.” You say blandly, your hand reaches for the handle, but he stops you, his hand resting on your shoulder.

“I knew we should’ve never started this shit.” Matt sighs, his eyes twinkle with remorse as the words leave his mouth.

“What?” You scoff at his words. You knew you fucked up by telling him how you feel but, that’s all he has to say? …Really?

“Y’know what I mean.” He shrugs “I knew one of us would end up catching feelings, y/n. Now it’s gonna be awkward when we hang out.” He releases your shoulder, his words dangle in the space between you and him. He knew. As in, he was prone to the same possibility.

But,

He regrets it, he regrets you and he didn’t even have to tell you that for it to be known.

“Okay.” You swallow the lump forming in your throat, the car suddenly felt much smaller than it was. In reality, you just wanted to get the hell out.

“Let’s be real here. I mean, did you really think that I’d start liking you just because we fucked a few times?” Matt sneers, his words were venom leaving his lips and you just so happened to be his prey. Each word that left his mouth only stabbing you in the chest more.

“What the fuck?” Your jaw slacks at his words and for the first time, you felt threatened in Matt’s presence. You unbuckle your seatbelt, practically storming out of his car with the dramatic slam of the aluminum door.

Was that all you were to him? Just some fuck doll to use whenever he pleased?

Bolting up to your apartment, the screech of rubber on black pavement could be heard from two stories up, signaling Matt’s departure.

Sighing when you enter the safety of your living room, You find yourself hoping you’d never have to see him again. Not after this. But alas, you were friends. Not only with him, but his brothers too. It was inevitable you’d have to socialize with him sometime soon.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Pt.2 here

[sturnioloszn]

CAUGHT (3) - C.S + M.S

summary; after months of sneaking around, matt and chris finally realise they're being played and decide to teach you a lesson.

warnings; smut, threesome, unprotected sex (wrap the willy), oral (blowjob), face-fucking, creampie, leaving hickeys, praising, degrading, dirty talk, spanking... think that's it lmaoooo?

a/n; finally time for the main event, and I'm shitting myself. i've never written anything similar to this, so let's bear that in mind when reading, gracias. if you don't fw this kinda stuff...ignore? and this was all inspired by @sturnobessed!

P1, P2

An episode of 'Gravity Falls' played on the tv, but it was simpy to fill the silence in the air as both brothers were completely captivated by their own phones.

The warm sun of early summer began to set, and the sky shifted to darker hues. Other than the low sound buzzing from the tv, the only other noise that could be heard was Chris's stomach.

"Yo, wanna go out for food?" Chris asks, still keeping his eyes locked on his screen, waiting for his brother's response. "Earth to Matt?" He spoke again, this time peeling his eyes away from his device to look at his brother, who was sat inches away on the couch.

Matt replied with a small mumble, still keeping his eyes locked on his phone, not caring about whatever stupidness his brother was saying.

"Kid, what's got you grinnin' from ear to ear?" Chris points out, shifting to move closer to Matt. However, Matt quickly pulls away his phone, refusing to let his brother see his screen. "Don't be a dickhead, show me," He whines.

It wasn't unusual for Chris to bitch and moan about not getting his way, he was the youngest after all; and like every time, Matt gave in, briefly panning his phone over to Chris.

"Just talking to my girl," Matt says, blushing at the current conversation and pulling his phone back.

"Your girl?! Wait, y'mean girlfriend or what..?" Chris asks, his interest now peaked. He moved even closer so that their shoulders were now touching, and he had a clear view of their chat.

"Nah, we're just fucking about, she's chill," He corrects, typing away on his phone. "Fuck," Matt speaks under his breath, regarding the picture that had just popped on his screen.

Due to the fact that Chris was also peering over Matt's phone, he too got flashed by the nude selfie that just appeared. A short second passed before Chris ripped the phone out of Matt's hands and stood up, walking away with the phone.

"What the fuck are you doing!" Matt says, standing up to follow his brother who was already in the kitchen. "Give me my phone, Chris!" He continued to yell.

"No fucking way," Chris spoke as he continued to analyse the picture. Matt tried to grab his phone back, but Chris kept fighting him off, being careful not to lock the phone.

"Chris, stop being an asshole," Matt speaks, giving up on trying to reach for his phone, instead landing a firm punch to Chris's arm.

"Ow!" Chris yelped, dropping Matt's phone. Matt picked up his phone and walked back to the couch where Chris followed suit, rubbing his now sore arm.

"Actin' like you've never seen a pair of tits before," Matt huffed, going back to his conversation.

"It's not that smart ass, I recognise them," Chris says, sitting back next to his brother. Matt's head whips to look at him.

"How the fuck would you recognise them?" He questions, bringing the picture back up and staring for a moment. Chris leans over and also looks over the picture, finding the pink jewellery eerily familiar.

That's when realisation struck.

"No way, dude," Chris shakes his head and drops it into his palms.

"What?"

"Matt, where'd you meet this girl?" He asks, lifting his head from his hands and looking at his brother, who was very confused.

"At a party... a few months ago? Why?" His brother questions. By now, Chris was certain that his theory was true.

"I've been hooking up with a girl from the party months ago too," Chris begins to explain, finding the words difficult to gather.

"So...?" Matt asks, still confused about what this has to do with anything.

"My girl has the exact same piercings," He clarifies, realisation finally setting in for Matt too.

"We're not fucking the same girl," Matt denies, now shaking his head I'm disbelief. "There's no way,"

"There's only one way to find out... on three say her name," Chris explains. So, on three, the same name fell from their lips, leaving them in complete shock.

As much as they tried to deny it and find other plausible explanations, they were drawing blanks. After filling each other in on what's been happening, they decide its their turn to manipulate the game.

Matt was supposed to drive over to her apartment in an hour, but instead, they organised for her to come to their house. They were about to teach her a lesson she'd never forget.

-

The front door was left unlocked, just as Matt said it would be, and I made my way into the dead silent house. I knew Matt said we'd be completely alone, but the silence was still incredibly off-putting.

"Hello?" My voice echos, bouncing off the walls, as I continued to make my way to Matt's room. There was a bizarre feeling about what was happening right now, but I couldn't place my tongue on it.

I grabbed onto his door handle and pushed it open, being met with the thing I expected least; Matt sat on the edge of his bed and Chris in his gaming chair.

It felt as though the air was knocked from my lungs, and I was completely winded. My eyes flickered between the two brothers and eventually landed on the floor under me.

The tension was so incredibly thick that it could have been cut with scissors. I'm mentally begging for someone to break the silence because whatever words that would come out from their mouths would be less embarrassing than the silence that currently filled the air.

"Wanna tell us something, baby?" Matt says, standing up from the bed, and taking small steps in my direction.

I gulped down my pride and whispered just loud enough for them to hear, "I'm sorry,"

"Sorry for what?" Matt whispers, bringing his hand to under my chin and lifting my head so that my eyes could meet his. However, not a word leaves my lips.

"I think she's sorry for being a little slut who needed two cocks to be satisfied, isn't it?" Chris spits. Matt shushes him before turning back to me.

"Are you mad at me?" I ask, letting a tear roll down the side of my face.

"Of course not... just disappointed," Matt coos, bringing his thumb up to wipe away my tear.

"But that's what your punishment is for," Chris smirks, now also standing up to walk over to where Matt and I were stood.

"Punishement?" I sniffle. I looked over to Chris, who was standing behind Matt, with a sinister grin on his face.

"Well... you wanted two cocks soooo bad, so now you're gonna take them," Chris smirks, pulling me away from Matt's comforting touch. "Tell us how bad you want both of us to fuck you," Chris says, wrapping his hand around my throat and squeezing lightly.

"S-so bad... I need it," I stutter, realising what my 'punishment' would be and realising it wasn't really a punishment at all.

"Fuckin' whore," Chris mutters, before crashing his lips into mine. His lips moved roughly, trying to claim my mouth entirely, and I was too focused on allowing his tongue into my mouth to notice that he was shifting us towards the bed.

The back of my knees hit the bed frame, causing me to fall backwards onto the mattress. Chris follows me and crawls onto the bed, positioning his legs between mine. He rejoins our lips while his hands explore my body. As our mouths fight for dominance, I feel the bed dip just above my head.

The kiss becomes more urgent as both of Chris's hands move to my jeans, quickly unbuttoning them and sliding them down my legs. My shirt is next to go, shortly followed by my lace bra, leaving me in just my matching underwear.

Chris pulls back to admire my bare body beneath him while peeling off his own clothes. I take the opportunity to look around the room for Matt, and I find him sitting against the headboard, palming the stiff bulge in his pants.

I slide myself from underneath Chris and crawl up to Matt, climbing onto his lap. His hands travel down my body, softly groping and squeezing any chance he got. I lean my head down and pepper small kisses all over his neck until I reach the spot, just beneath his ear, which drives him wild.

"Shit," Matt groans, letting his head fall backwards as I suck a purple bruise into his skin. I feel a second pair of hands on my body, moving to pull down my last piece of clothing, leaving me completely naked.

I separate from Matt's neck, looking over my shoulder to find Chris in only his boxers. Matt was still fully dressed; so, I reached down to the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. I then lifted my hips so that I could work on removing his pants.

I slid his boxers and pants off him and threw them somewhere in the room. His cock was painfully hard and sore, begging for attention. I slide off his lap and onto my stomach, bringing my mouth in line with his dick. I swirl my tongue around his red tip, licking up the drops of pre-cum, which spilt out.

"S-stop teasing," He moans, placing one of his hands on the back of my head, softly pushing my head down to take more of his length. I open my mouth wider, letting his cock hit the back of my throat before pulling up again. I keep deep-throating him until I feel Chris come up behind me.

"Lift your hips," He commands, grabbing my hips and forcing them up. With no warning Chris's cock pushes into me, filling me up completely. I focus back on Matt's cock, sucking his tip and rubbing the rest of his length whilst Chris is roughly thrusting into me.

"You're such a fucking slut, wasn't one of us enough for you, hm?" Chris groans as he continues to drill into me from behind, digging his fingertips into my hips. "Answer, bitch!" He says, delivering a harsh slap to my right ass cheek.

I yelp, disconnecting from Matt's dick once again. "N-no... I w-wanted b- AH, BOTH!" I yell, feeling another smack to my ass.

"Of course you did, because you're nothing but a whore," He speaks, giving me another firm slap, as he somehow thrusts his hips even faster into me.

"Chris, that's enough," Matt speaks up, looking down at my red and sore ass cheek.

"She's fine, aren't you, ma?" Chris asks, smoothing his hand over my ass before giving it another slap.

"Mhmm," I moan, giving Chris reassurance that I'm more than okay, before retreating my mouth back to Matt's cock. Chris's actions are becoming more jagged, indicating that he's coming close.

I focus on bringing Matt to his euphoria too, dragging my tongue up the prominent vein on his cock, before flattening my tongue around his length, hollowing my cheeks out, and bobbing my head up and down rhythmically.

Within seconds, his hand is pulling on my hair and thick, warm cum is shooting down my throat. Simultaneously, I feel Chris stutter his hips into me, releasing his load into my pussy.

They're both completely still until I feel Chris pull his semi-hard cock out of me and spread my ass apart, watching his cum drip out of me and onto Matt's bedsheets.

"Matt you've gotta fuck her, she feels amazing," Chris says, looking up at his brother who was still desperately trying to catch his breath from the best head he's ever recieved.

"Please fuck me Matt... I need it so bad," I beg, going back to straddling him.

"Get a condom and you can ride me all night, baby," Matt says. I happily reach over to his nightstand and pull out a condom; I rip it open and slide it over his dick.

"Your such a little pussy for wearing that," Chris says standing up and walking over to stand next to us.

"Shut the fuck up, I'm just cleaner than yo-," Matt spits back but is interrupted by the feeling of my pussy swallowing his cock. Chris rolls his eyes before pulling my hair into a make-shift pony tail.

"Y'gonna be a good girl and suck my dick while you ride him?" Chris asks, somewhat rhetorically, because this was my punishment... I had to do whatever they wanted.

I nodded my head as I began to grind my hips, causing moans to spill from both me and Matt. Chris tightens his grip on my hair and guides my mouth to his already hard again cock. This time, however, I had no control over my mouth as he placed his other hand on the side of my face and thrusted his dick to the back of my throat, causing me to gag.

"If y'think I'm letting you half-suck me like you did him you have another thing coming," Chris groans, as he continues to face-fuck me. I try my best to keep a solid rhythm on Matt's cock but it's proving to be a challenge so I grab his hands and place them on my waist, asking for help.

He takes the hint and softly helps me move my hips back and forth on his length. I speed up my movements, eleciting more moans from both me and Matt. However, my moans are drowned out by the wet sound of Chris's cock continuesly hitting the back of my throat.

"Mmph... I'm close baby, please don't stop," Matt moans, even though he's the one doing the majority of the work. My eyes are rolling to the back of my head, feeling my first orgasm fast-approching. I've been so busy allowing myself to be used that I didn't even realise that I haven't finished at all yet.

I hear a string of swear words fall from Chris's lips as he takes his dick into his hands, pumping it insanely fast. I stick my tongue out, awaiting for his cum.

"Fuck!" He exclaims, painting my tongue white with his cum. "Y'better swallow all of it," Chris moans, pulling his member out of my mouth. I swallow all of it down, just as he wanted, and I stick my tongue back out as proof.

"Good girl, you've been so obedient, haven't you?" Chris coos, pushing away the hair stuck to my forehead from all the sweat. I moan in response, feeling my orgasm about to crash over me.

"Shit, shit, shit," Matt chants, as I feel the condom in me fill up, and I finally feel my own satisfaction coming down onto me. I let out a pornographic moan, squeezing my eyes shut and grabbing onto Matt's shoulders for support as I slowly ride out my high.

Without even opening my eyes, I drop my head down to his shoulder, feeling our sweaty bodies fuse together.

"Holy shit," Chris laughs from next to us, causing me and Matt to also laugh. I peel my eyes open and look at both of them.

"So... I guess you guys found out," I say, slowly removing myself off Matt and wrapping myself up in his sheets.

"Yeah, maybe don't send around titty pics when they're that recognisable," Chris says, shaking his head. My cheeks blush bright red, although you could hardly tell, considering how blushed my face already was.

"C'mon, let's get you in a nice warm bath," Matt says, scooping me up from under his sheets.

-

I woke up the next morning in between two of the hottest guys ever. After we all cleaned up and Matt changed his sheets, we all settled into the couch and watched a movie. But we were all so exhausted that we didn't even get through half of it before passing out, all sprawled out on the couch.

Replaying the events leading up to this moment, I would've never thought that this was how it ended, but I would be absolutely crazy if I said that I'd want it to be any other way.

a/n; omg, this is longgg. anyway, this isn't as good as i wanted it to be, but it's my first time writing something like this, so i guess i can't be too picky. but thanks for reading, love you <3.

Taglist; @idrk2292 @starclinexo @clairesrose @045696 @forgottxen @mattsturniolover @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @chrissturniolodailysluts @sturnobsessedwh0re

[chisubi]

a recollection of bellflowers — h. rindō

content. fem!reader, slice of life, implied／referenced infidelity (not by you or rindō), non-linear

word count. 7.4k

note. this is something i’ve been working on for a while because i have no idea how to write rindō . . . >< i wanted this to have a summery shōjo feel to it, so hopefully i was able to capture it well enough ?? (also, sorry, this is a little unedited.)

i had to force myself to finish this or else i would end up forgetting about it again ! there’s only three parts to this, however, updates will be sporadic :x

part one ／ from summer, 1999

Your fiancé has a lover in Tokyo.

He doesn’t tell you, you never ask, you just know — a woman’s intuition is never wrong. Something you learned from your dear mother.

Two nights ago, while you are both lying beside one another in bed, he complains that he has yet another business trip in Tokyo [his last one was just a few weeks ago], he asks if there is anything you would like him to buy — like that dessert you find yourself indulging in a little too much these days, a new novel to add to your collection of unread books that you swear you will get to them eventually, a new set of coffee mugs or a bouquet of your favourite flowers. You tell him, “No, it’s okay. I don’t need anything.”

He doesn’t press when you decline. Instead, he leans down to capture your lips with his before he leaves; the wind rushes by, chilling over the spot he had touched. His “I’ll miss you” never reaches you, carrying with it the ghosts of your past. His “I love you” completely passes you by. Ever-so-fleeting.

It’s been this way for a few months now. You don’t know when it first began, but the signs became more and more obvious as the days passed by. Rather than sadness or anger, you don’t really feel anything anymore. Only regret remains. Those memories and promises you both made together are beginning to fade. And what seems to make your heart shake is that you don’t know what to do, despite change and abandonment seemingly always following after you. Time and time again. Even after all these seasons, you are still lost.

When summer burns, or when fireworks spark up the midnight sky, you feel it on your tongue and skin as the same memories fill your mind once again. That summer night by the river’s edge. And summer nights following that — all of them are unforgettable, always leaving you feeling the bittersweet taste of citrus and honey drowning in the back of your throat. Too sweet, too sour. 

No matter where you are in the world, a spirit of a little girl clinging onto the sandbox of an old playground remains in Roppongi. Abandoned, yet not once forgotten. Your flesh, blood, and bones will always be made up of Rindō and Ran from way back then. You hold these memories deep in your heart so preciously like a collection of little treasures as you continue to grow older.

A quarter before midnight, the moon is down and clouded by the fog; you take the train all the way to Roppongi. It’s strangely empty inside, you cannot see what lies outside. Tired and uneasy, the sound of the midnight train running across the tracks lulls you to sleep.

—

You are eleven when your mother drops you off at your grandfather’s house all the way in Roppongi during the summer; miles away from the countryside you grew up in. She doesn’t wait for your grandfather to open the door to come and greet you. She yells out how she will see you in a few weeks, the engine roars, and she is gone.

You have never met any grandparents before. Your mother doesn’t like to talk about them, so you never ask, not wanting to overstep the invisible line (she is scary when she is in a foul mood). You learn to be a good child because you want to see your mother smile again — she stopped smiling for months now, and you don’t know why. However, you believe she will feel better once she picks you up in a few days.

After all, adults need their rest as well (or something like that).

You soon also learn that your grandfather is a tall, scary man. A seemingly permanent scowl, a low and gruff voice that is only heard through a few words. A strong scent of alcohol lingers on the collar of his shirt – one you sometimes smell on your mother’s breath – he looks at you so emptily, then sighs. The chill in the air prickles against your exposed skin, you gulp.

No matter how silent of a man he is, you are a good daughter, so you introduce yourself to him and thank him for letting you stay with him — “I’ve always imagined meeting you, grandpa. I saw you in a picture before!” 

These words seem to catch his attention. His tracks stop, he doesn’t look back, and all you can see is his wide back. You hear him mumble something beneath his breath, you don’t catch any of the words — you weren’t meant to. Something sticks out about your grandfather. Something you can’t help, but focus on is his missing a pinky. You try not to stare, and he doesn’t say anything when he catches your innocent, curious eyes. Rather, he doesn’t say anything at all to you and you can’t help but become overly sensitive to every draw of his breath.

You wish you were back home in that little countryside town, tucked far away from this bizarre place. You want your mother to come and pick you up.

You would rather be at home with her than here.

—

Surprisingly, you got more sleep than you expected last night. This is your first time sleeping in a bed that doesn’t belong to you; in a place that is so foreign to you.

And you guess it wasn’t so bad. The mattress is a lot softer than the one back at home.

Breakfast is simple and traditional. A bowl of steamed rice, fried mackerel with a side of nattō (you don't like the smell, but you try your best to swallow the beans without making any faces, and fail). The mackerel on your plate is neatly pulled apart, bones discarded, and you smile to yourself. Your grandfather is more attentive — kinder than he looks. Your teachers have always told you and your classmates to never judge someone based on their appearance.

“Um . . . Grandpa?” Silence is met with your call. However, you take that silence as a sign to continue speaking. “Can I, uh, may I go outside for a little bit?” 

“There’s a park nearby,” he simply replies with a few words before directing his attention back onto the television.

Your eyes brighten. “Okay, thank you!”

Quickly shoving down your breakfast, you’re out the door and ready to play.

So, your grandfather isn’t the greatest at giving directions. After some twists and turns and walking back and forth, it is not too hard to find the park he vaguely described. 

There's a group of kids playing on the playground, dangling off the monkey bars and sitting around. Too shy to approach, you shuffle over to the swing set, and rock yourself back and forth.

After some moments of swinging, and looking back at them to your feet, you hear a bunch of footsteps heading towards you.

You look up in anticipation and nervously smile at the group of boys in front you. Maybe they want to join you? [Hopefully.] “Um, hi! Did you want to—” Your words are immediately cut off as someone steps right in front of you.

“Get off.”

“H-huh?”

“H-huh?” A boy mocks with a high pitch tone and your cheeks heat up when you hear laughter surrounding you.

“Get off so we can play,” this one stands in front of you, hair short with a red cap in his hand. “You can hear properly, right?”

Someone says, “No, I don’t think she can.”

Another laughs.

The short-haired boy glares at you, hand reaching over and tugs on your hair — hard. You yelp as your hand immediately wraps around his wrist. “We told you to move, so move,” he harshly shouts and you flinch as your ear rings.

You don’t understand why they’re mad or why they are telling you to leave. This has never happened to you back at home before.

You yell at the boy to let go of you, pushing his arm away as hard as you can. However, this action only leads him to pull hard this time. You yelp. The group breaks out into snickers and grins.

Traitorously, your body betrays you as tears gather in the corner of your eyes. You don’t want to cry — you don’t like crying, never wanting anyone to see your tears. But you feel so helpless and lost and alone.

"Hey, wait, you're gonna make her cry. . .” Someone speaks up and for a second, you’re hopeful.

“I’m not even doing it hard. She’s just being a baby,” the short-haired boy scoffs before he accuses, “why do you care? You like her?”

His face flushes, and beneath the thick frames of his glasses, his widened eyes shake. “No way!”

“I bet you think she’s pretty.”

The boy gags as he takes great strides away from you. His arms cross over his chest as he yells, “Gross. Over my dead body.”

“Oh, is that so?”

It’s a voice that comes out of nowhere, causing you to jump. Colour drained from the faces in front of you; awfully, sickly pale.

And it comes fast all too fast — someone running in between you and the group of boys with a flying fist. Another one and another one. Colour falls from your cheeks mirroring the group and unlike them, you find yourself unable to move. To run away. You think you see a drop of red splattered on the concrete as you tightly shut your eyes, your body shakes and you cover your ears in an attempt to block the sound.

Someone cries. Screams, shoes smacking against the pavement, and laughter — one both loud and taunting. Then all of a sudden, everything goes silent. Hesitantly, you slowly open your eyes. Purple fills your entire vision. You jump at the sudden close proximity, you can feel their hair tickling your cheek as he leans in close to you.

There’s glass covering purple gems.

The boy asks, "Are you good?” 

You slowly nod, “Thank you for, um . . . helping me?” You say this rather confusingly, unable to comprehend everything that had happened within minutes. You take a step back as you look around, you don’t see any of those boys from earlier. They vanished as if they were never here, the footprints made in the sandpit and droplets of blood remind you otherwise. 

Your eyes fall towards his hands that punched those bullies — knuckles all red, you bite your lip to conceal your quivering lips. You turn to the taller boy with no visible cuts or bruises, only a smug grin on his face that matches with the one in front you, and you thank him as well. When you take a better look at him, you notice the two of them sort of look similar.

He looks down at you and waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Those guys were lame for ganging up on you. They always pick fights with people weaker than them.”

“Right, those idiots got what was coming for them,” the other boy adds with a laugh. “Are you not from around here?”

You shake your head.

“Thought so. Haven’t seen you around here before. So, what’s your name? I’m Rindō, and that’s my older brother, Ran,” the boy – Rindō – introduces.

You tell them your name and thank them once again.

“Uh-uh. Just tell us if they bother you again. We’ll deal with it,” says Ran.

You perk up, “You will?”

“Yeah, Roppongi belongs to the Haitani brothers.”

Roppongi belongs to the two boys who don’t seem older than you. Confused, you ask, “Are you guys protectors or something? Like heroes?”

Your words are met with snorts that evolve into laughter. Beside you, Rindō gives you a toothy grin as he readjusts his glasses. “I guess if that’s what you think, then sure.”

The heroes of Roppongi.

The sun is shining and his smile glows.

Meeting the Haitani brothers was probably nothing special, a similar story that could be told by countless people during their youth. However, to you, an eleven-year-old girl being picked on at the playground, helpless and tear-stained, they seemed like your heroes. So bright and blinding. A moment that changes your entire life.

—

Ran and Rindō have come to knock on the door to your grandfather’s house nearly everyday since then. When the old man opens it to see two unfamiliar children, he sighs before calling out your name (which makes your heart jump from your chest from how loud his voice can be). And you’re quick to slip on your old running shoes and bolt out the door.

Rindō tells you he found a cool place the other day, a hidden room at the back of an old shrine, and he wants to show it to you. Keeping up with the Haitanis is hard; chasing after them is even harder. Their legs aren’t that much longer than yours, but their strides are far too long, too fast.

Rindō is kind enough to slow down, only for a moment. “You’re too slow,” he complains before grabbing your hand and pulls you along to keep up with them. Without noticing, you don’t trip over your own feet anymore.

“Careful, Rindō,” Ran lowly warns as his hand reaches out and wraps around Rindō’s wrist, pulling him away from walking up the stone steps. The tall, red torii gate looms above. A crow lingers at the very top. “Don’t you know young children get spirited away here?”

“Huh? Spirited away? Like the movie?”

“No, no. Not the film, Rin,” Ran snickers at his brother’s words, you don’t understand what Ran finds so funny. And Rindō doesn’t seem to know either, but his face is red and he looks mad at Ran. “The legends. Haven’t you heard that the yōkai will come and snatch you up? They take away children who run off alone. They’ll come to get you, dummy.”

Rindō shakes his head, staring up at his brother with skeptical lavender eyes. “No way. You’re just trying to scare me again. I won’t fall for it anymore, nii-chan.”

“Nuh-uh, ‘m serious this time.” Ran says this so lightly, it sounds unconvincing.

Rindō's glare hardens as he crosses his arm. “Okay. Why are you such a liar these days?”

“Am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No—”

You block out their childish bickering — they always seem to do this. It’s always Ran who seems to start it. And through their yelling, an old memory flashes in your mind. Your head perks up in remembrance as you gasp. 

This garners their attention because they both immediately stop their “argument” and turn to look at you.

“Wait, it is true! I heard that Tomoko-chan from the class next door visited the shrine last summer and she never returned . . .” you pitch in with the eerie rumour your classmates had whispered to each other last year — Tomoko-chan got taken away by a monster. Those words reach to the end of the long hallways and snuck into the wooden panels in the room. Kids at school don’t go anywhere alone now.

In the distance, a crow caws.

So, you learn something new: monsters also live in the city. They don’t only reside in the little town you grew up in. Monsters exist everywhere in the world.

The brothers send each other a look, one that you don’t understand, something only they know — only them. You watch as they communicate through stares alone before turning their attention back onto you.

“Really?”

Quickly nodding, you add, “Yup, it’s true. I swear. Everyone said so. She went to make a wish, and then disappeared. Her family isn’t even in town anymore.”

Ran lets out an exaggerated sigh. He crosses his arms with a half smile to his face. “See, I was looking out for you.”

“Right. Don’t you think you’ve been lying too much to me lately? At least, learn to make it believable.”

Ran laughs before quietly saying, “If you’re scared, just say so.”

The crow above the gate caws, careful, you glance up at the noise, to the long steps then to Ran, and then Rindō, who looks up at his brother clearly unimpressed.

Obviously, Rindō isn’t scared of ghosts, or yōkai, or monsters that eat children. He is already too old to believe in things like that. He protests and says this, despite you and Ran telling him otherwise, Rindō is skeptical. He says he still doesn’t believe you, he can’t believe you would make up a lie and follow Ran, and you tell him you would never lie to him or anybody. Only bad people lie.

However, the Haitani brothers are closer than anyone — they told you this when you first met, so it’s to no one’s surprise when they turn around and gang up on you instead. Because you are scared, or so Rindō insists. Ran says it’s okay because you are a girl and you’re just a baby compared to them. It’s true, you are scared of the yōkai who snatch away wandering children. You aren’t scared because of the reasons Ran says. It’s rather annoying how Ran calls you a baby for something like that.

(You don’t tell him that, though.)

The three of you don’t enter the shrine. They show you around the neighbourhood and some spots they like to hang out at, like an arcade and a newly opened ramen shop. The entire time, Ran holds both of your hands tightly, you are sure he is holding Rindō’s even tighter. Your shadows are overlapped, mixing together. The yōkai don’t come for them or you. You are safe together. 

As the sun begins to set, you stop by a food stall, the old lady running it tells you that you look so pretty and you remind her of her granddaughter. She gives a discount — 100 yen for six pieces. Ran takes out the coin from his pocket and he divides the takoyaki between the three of you before heading home. 

It’s quiet when you enter the house, nobody welcomes you home, but your grandfather sits in the living room watching television again. He spares you a glance, before turning his attention back to the t.v. Static and muffled voices fill the house.

—

A week turns into two, then three. Summer passes by quickly here in Roppongi. Everything moves so fast in the city, it’s exhilarating — overwhelming. Your little body struggles to keep up.

You run, run, and run the days away.

Again and again, you fall.

(Rindō and Ran pick you back up.)

“My mom abandoned me,” you tell Rindō one afternoon, weakly adding in, “. . . I think.” Hopefulness seeps through; a child’s innocence, your naïveté.

Underneath the big oak tree, Rindō turns to look at you while opening the blue ramune and gives it to you to drink first — he was supposed to buy two, but he forgot the rest of his change at home. He says it’s fine because he doesn’t mind sharing his drink with you. He shares drinks with Ran all the time. And you don’t mind it either.

“. . . She will,” he slowly replies, “maybe she is just busy working — adults are like that, y’know. What about your dad?”

Adults are like that, at least the ones you know. Your mom is probably busy, but either way, she lied to you and this is what hurts. You don’t try to hide your disappointment in her.

You shake your head, looking down at your swaying feet. “I don’t know.” 

You really don’t know.

You don’t remember his face, eyes, and everything is blurred, but you recall his boxy smile and a heavy hand that ruffled your hair. 

“I haven’t seen my dad before either. I don’t even think that guy knows I exist.”

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Are you lonely without him?”

He shakes his head, hair bouncing with every movement. “Nah, I have Ran. Even though he’s so annoying these days.”

The two [three] of you are similar in a way. It’s rather comforting knowing you aren’t the only one with a family like that.

Rindō vows to you that he will always be by your side so you aren’t alone anymore, because he has Ran, but you don’t have an older brother like Ran to stay with you.

He holds your hand — one so cold and sticky from the blue ramune. Again, he tells you that you still have him and Ran, because you are his best friend. Maybe he thinks you didn’t hear him the first time. His words are warm, so you don’t mind his cold fingers touching yours — it cools you down from the heat, even if the rest of your body is melting under the summer sun. Somehow, it always finds a way to peek through the little gaps, through the spaces between your fingers.

Together, you finish the ramune with lighter hearts.

At the end of summer, you are still at your grandfather’s house — your mother never comes to get you. That little, big, tiny feeling brewing in you all summer in Roppongi turned out to be right. But you aren’t alone.

Time flows quickly in Roppongi. Months pass by in a blink of an eye.

—

Coming home to the city where everything first began leaves your thoughts in a flurry; too jumbled and twisted. This house hasn’t changed one bit, walking into your old bedroom feels like a dream; both familiar and alien. A few of your old belongings still remain in place, you never have it in you to pack it up and bring them with you. Your mother hasn’t bothered to move them either.

Tonight, you help your mother make katsu curry. A staple in many households; also, the first dish you learned how to make.

You can feel your mother’s nerves as today is the day where you are officially meeting the man she is seeing (whom she had once mentioned as her new colleague over a year ago). He seemed like a normal, stand up man, but you can tell she likes him, so you don’t disapprove of him.

To calm her down (as well as your own excitement and nervousness), the two of you make small talk as you cook.

“Did you love him?” 

You immediately stiffen, the knife stops just above the fresh carrots from your mother’s garden, and you don’t press down. She doesn’t say who, but you already know who she is referring to. Your heart aches without the mention of his name. A boy who isn’t your fiancé. Your soon-to-be husband. “Did you love that boy from back then?”

Your face shines in the knife, the glare of the light above makes your reflection disappear. You force yourself to focus, continuing to cutting the carrot into chunks. The sound of the knife hitting against the cutting board echoes in your ears. “Why are you mentioning that? Why are you curious about it now? It’s been too long since then.”

“I used to think you would end up marrying him in the future.”

The sentence has you turning around in surprise. You harshly swallow, forcing a short laugh. Your heart clogs your throat. Emotions twisting like ebbing waves. “You never even liked him,” your voice doesn’t sound less tense.

“Maybe I didn’t, but you did.” Her expression says nothing — no hatred, regret, or sadness; she is only looking at you so clearly — right through to your leaking heart. All you wish is to run and hide from that all-knowing gaze of hers, you wish you never turned around. “For some people, they are only capable of loving one person their entire life. There’s a saying that nobody forgets about their first loves and for those people, sometimes their first love lasts forever.”

Some people, she says. By this, she means you.

The ring that sits prettily on your finger feels too heavy, squeezing your finger.

“. . . That already ended so long ago,” softly, you say.

The doorbell rings, cutting through the tense atmosphere. There’s an exchange of looks — her expression soft as she offers a small smile of condolence.

The man – Mr. Hajime – arrives earlier than expected. You follow behind your mother as she opens the door and you see bright red roses before you see him. Your mother’s cheeks turn red as she bashfully smiles while accepting the bouquet.

He enters the home and when you meet his eyes, you smile and nod in acknowledgment. Mr. Hajime stops in front of you, pulling out a bouquet with a variety of flowers; of blues and whites.

“Thank you,” you say as he places the flowers in your hand.

His smile is awfully gentle. His eyes match that gentleness, too. An old, loving soul. “No, I should be the one thanking you. It’s nice to finally meet you. Your mother often talks about you.”

You smile as a reply.

You wish to know what she has said. And maybe you will ask him another time, you know you will. There’s no doubt you will be meeting him again and again.

Mr. Hajime moves with familiarity in the house as if he has been here many times before (you wouldn’t doubt if he has). He makes his way to the dining room as he turns on an old song on your grandfather’s beloved record player. You don’t know the title, but you remember hearing it play many times back when you were a kid. It sounds so nostalgic. 

As the three of you eat dinner, a younger image of your mother and you eating in silence overlap, and the bittersweet feeling at how much your mother has grown begins to hit you. Despite her fading black hair and the grays that replace them, and the barely noticeable wrinkles around her eyes; the look in her eyes seems younger — happier. 

You’ve never seen her like this before. Her heart races for her — her love for Mr. Hajime and the happiness he brings to her. You’re happy for her, you really are.

This street and this house bring back so many memories; memories of times that will never come again and new ones are being created. And even more in the future.

Nostalgia continues to devour you. Your heart is aching in many different ways.

—

A year passes by, you don’t hear from Rindō or Ran after a few weeks of sending letters back and forth, and occasional phone calls made on your house line when your mother works overtime on Saturday nights.

Ran had warned you beforehand that he doesn’t do handwritten letters or phone calls or emails [whatever that means], you think he may just not want to talk to you, and strangely, you don’t take much offence in it. Like Rindō has always said, Ran is Ran, he does things his own way. Plus, you had already assumed you would hear updates on Ran from Rindō, however your assumption turns out to be wrong.

Tons of calls and letters left unanswered. You send another one, your final letter to him.

2002 年 4月 22日

Hi Rindō,

I know it’s been a while since my last letter and I haven’t received one back from you either. I make sure to check the mailbox twice a week! I really will be upset if you don’t reply or call me this time for real.

The new year started recently and I’m being forced to join a club this time. Kaa-san is still busy with work, and she comes home exhausted, so I decided to join the culinary club. Coming home to a cooked meal is something everyone likes, right? I am not really confident in my cooking skills though. . .

I miss you and Ran a lot. It’s lonely here without you guys. I hope you haven’t forgotten about me. I won’t forgive you if you did. Write to me soon, okay? I want to know what you have been up to.

And it’s no shocker when there’s no response to it.

Your initial bitterness eventually fades into nothing but nostalgia.

As the years go on, you forget all about the Haitani brothers and Roppongi. Their faces become more and more blurred with each passing month. You must’ve been erased from their memory — a little childhood memory too dazed to remember.

Junior high is harder than it seems — making friends doesn’t come easy, you spend the majority of your time alone. But ever since you joined the culinary club in your second year, everyone there is friendly and supportive, and things begin to change. School becomes a little more fun, and sometimes, you don’t mind waking up so early in the morning.

You find yourself trapped in the middle of a circle. All eyes on you. Ones full of anticipation.

And of course, this could only be one thing — gossiping. They talk about love stories, first kisses, and boys. Unfortunately, the target today is none other than you.

“No, I don’t have a crush on anyone," you firmly state. It’s the third time this week you've been asked this question, you don’t understand why everyone is so curious.

“Ehh, don’t lie!” Sachiko playfully nudges you with a giggle. Eyes piercing into yours, and you inaudibly sigh at her skepticism. You don’t budge when she continues to push and she pouts. “Fine, fine. What about Naoki-kun from the baseball team?”

A chorus of ‘Ahh’s’ and giggles erupt in the room. A telling sign of the boy’s popularity. Even someone like you, who doesn’t care much about boys [yet] knows about him. From what you heard, he spends most of his time practicing baseball and he only dated one girl during his first year for only a week. He’s more serious than he seems, yet he gets along with everyone, parents and teachers included.

He’s good-looking. You aren’t blind, you know this much, but you don’t think you like short hair so much — even if Naoki-kun’s short hair suits him quite well. Still, you end up timidly agreeing with your club members, wishing to get this over with. “Mhm, I think Naoki-kun is kinda cute . . .” 

"Oh my gosh . . .”

“Ah, I knew it,” someone says. “I mean, most girls like him, so it’s obvious, right?"

You never said anything about liking Naoki-kun in a romantic way, you just said he was kinda cute (you guess). You just shrug and the topic moves onto how a student in the grade below you had caught the new teacher from class 2-b and the principal on a date. Your married principal. A classic love affair. The rumour echoes down the streets in the town, forever spiralling.

And in the early morning of May, 2003, your mother enters the house again and you think she may have forgotten something before heading off to work. Instead, she tosses a letter on the kitchen table. She says it’s for you. It’s plain. A white envelope with no decorations — you immediately know it’s not from one of your friends from school and your heart races in anticipation even before you grab it. You flip it over to see if it says who it’s from.

And it does. It’s a letter sent from Roppongi — a letter from Haitani Rindō.

Time slows and your heart beats loudly in your ears. The wind leading into summer suddenly doesn’t feel so slow; the morning birds chirp in tune of your heartbeat.

It was already the end of June, you blow out your candles. Another June goes by and you graduate from junior high.

—

You are sixteen when you meet Rindō and Ran again. 

They surprise you at the train station, and when you see them, you don’t recognise them at all. It feels like you don’t know who they are. They’re suddenly a lot taller, more mature with matching tattoos and dyed hair that you don’t see people your age with — and to their defence, they have always had dyed hair back when you first met. There’s an intimidating air to them which draws you in. An edge you should look out for. One step and you will fall.

Your grandfather has also changed — barely, but you can see he looks a little smaller than you remember him to be. Older, too. There’s wrinkles around his eyes and mouth — ones due to his permanent frown. Yet his eyes feel warm, they soften when he looks at you.

Ran doesn’t really hang out nor talk to you anymore. During your trip there, he spends most days out and sometimes Rindō tags along with him, in which you stay at home with your grandfather or go shopping. And when you first caught them with bruises on their faces and torn skin on their knuckles, you cried. Catching them two and three more times didn’t make it any better.

You knew from first glance that Rindō and Ran are what people call delinquents, you aren’t blind when faced with the obvious. It feels strange seeing your childhood friends like this — the violence they indulge in.

(You couldn’t believe it when you first learned the reason as to why you haven’t heard from Rindō in a long, long time. It’s still hard to believe, but when you see them like this, you can’t refuse it.)

It gradually builds into a routine, always finding yourself in the Haitani home while their mother is away at work. Forcing Rindō down onto his bed as you clumsily clean up his wounds, shaky, and unable to look away. Fretting over the way they’ve been hurt like a mother to her children (this is how their own mother probably feels coming home to be greeted by bruised faces). A burned cd of his favourite songs plays in the background. Quietly, because you’re both afraid of Ran waking up.

“Stop looking at me like that.” His tone is anything, but harsh. His sigh is heavy, yet soft. “You gotta stop worrying at this point. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

You immediately frown as you glare up at him. “I worry because you don’t.”

“You know it’s not as bad as it looks. Can barely feel a thing. You’ve got nothin’ to worry about.”

You quickly retort, “It is . . . Why do you keep saying that? Every time I see you, you are injured. That’s not normal.” Growing more frustrated at his lack of self-care, you softly glare at his tattered hand. You mumble, “What are you and your brother even up to?” More so to you, than to Rindō.

However, he hears you. He laughs, more rather airy than his usual boastful one. “Aren’t you too nice?”

“No, I’m not,” you mutter. “Something like this is normal.”

“I guess that means my world isn’t so normal. I don’t know anyone else like you.”

Those pretty amethyst eyes draw you in. You shake your head, replying, “You will meet others like me. Caring about someone who is hurt is nothing special. It’s . . . it’s human to do so.” You hold his hand carefully in yours, inspecting the cloth to make sure it’s securely wrapped. Thumb brushing over the fabric.

“There’s only you.” 

The room falls silent. The track slowly fades into the next. Your heart races.

Rindō coughs into his sleeve. “Um, I meant that I only know you. The guys I know aren’t really like that at all.”

It may be your mind playing tricks on you. The way he looks and sounds — his every gesture feels too tender to be Rindō. It’s odd, not him. Your eyes must be playing tricks on you too because the look in Rindō’s eyes seems too gentle and intimate. You look away.

“You have Ran, who cares about you a lot,” you point out, eyes looking anywhere but at him.

He quietly chuckles, “Yeah. That’s just Ran though. You know how he is.”

You vaguely reply, “I guess so.”

“You know so.”

“Everyone knows so,” you softly add, “just take of yourself more. Please.”

You lift your eyes for a split second, and he meets you within it. Rindō softly smiles, “Okay. I will, so you won’t cry anymore.”

You can’t look at him for too long without feeling your face flush, it gets too hot, and the unfamiliar feeling of butterflies that invade your stomach, pooling, itching to explode whenever he smiles at you. He makes you so nervous and you don’t know how to react. You’ve never felt this type of nervousness with someone before.

“I don’t cry.”

“I sure hope you won’t.”

You don’t know how to act.

That night, once Ran awakens from his nap, the three of you decide to hang outside. Roppongi is not similar to the countryside in any shape or form and you’re no longer surprised to see the city awake during these late nights. This city is always brighter after midnight.

Rindō had run off to the nearest konbini for drinks due to him losing three rounds of rock-paper-scissors [really, who actually chooses rock], and you and Ran are squatting down by the riverbank with sparklers burning in your hands. Rindō will probably be annoyed that the two of you started without him the second he ran off, but it’s Ran fault if anything. He’s the one who made you grab the sparklers and lit them himself.

However, Rindō wouldn’t be surprised by this, because everyone knows how impatient Ran can be at times.

“Y’know, on summer nights like this, the main character and her love interest would light sparklers together—” Ran begins to say with his sparkler dangles above yours, burning so fast and bright, “—and they will become stuck together. It stays like that, and that is usually when something in their relationship changes. . . I saw it in a shōjo anime before.” He pulls the end of his sparkler before his and yours get the chance to become tangled, and smiles softly at you. Ran looks pretty — prettier than most celebrities you see on television and magazine covers. He’s probably popular with girls.

And you assume, Rindō, too. He’s definitely no less popular than his brother. This thought immediately makes everything feel sour, your smile falters and you look back down at the sparklers. A pile of ash building below. The flames are bright, rushing into your eyes and leaves your head dizzy.

It’s quite beautiful; the way sparks flicker and dimming ashes fall around you. Vanishing within moments it hits the ground.

“You learned that from a shōjo anime?”

He replies with a shrug. “I mean, yeah. It’s a popular trope these days. I know you girls are into those types of things. Quite romantic, hm?” 

You nod and don’t try to hide your smile. You didn’t think Ran was into anime like that. You didn’t know he was a romantic type of guy.

“Don’t laugh,” Ran scoffs. “You’ve become quite rude, huh.”

“I’m not! I just thought it was cute,” you huff in defense.

“Uh-huh.”

He rolls his eyes in which you mockingly repeat back, and you both laugh.

So, Ran is a little different these days. He’s all grown, almost unrecognisably so. But he is still your friend — there is still the Ran you knew back then there inside of him. And you think, he and Rindō could probably say the same about you. Change is inevitable, it comes hand-in-hand with growing up.

“So, this is something you do with someone you love. . .” you mutter his words to yourself. “Why aren’t you doing it with someone you love—well, uh, have you?”

It’s silent. A croak of a frog, a call of a cicada. His answer lies in his silence and it’s sad to hear, because beneath everything, Ran is someone with lots of love to give. It’s unfortunate how he’s never once liked to wear his heart on his sleeve, hidden away deep in a metal cage. He is a nice guy, really. So sweet to Rindō — sometimes towards you.

Ran shakes his head, redirecting the conversation to you. Something he always seems to do. “Why aren’t you?”

You . . . ?

Attentive with the eyes of a hawk, Ran picks up on your confusion within seconds. He tells you not to mind his words which only makes you feel more lost — heart racing. You think Ran knows something, but you do not know what. The unknown is always terrifying and you want to know.

Ran wants an answer that you cannot provide. Beginning to feel warm underneath your thin clothes, you grow anxious under his heavy stare, yet can’t find it in yourself to look away.

His eyes drift for a second and light from the sparklers fall in. He looks back at you, then cocks his head in the opposite direction. Curious, you follow his line of sight — Rindō.

Immediately, you take this opportunity to run. You hand the remains of your incense stick to Ran as you jump up, dusting off the dirt and ash that may have gotten on your clothes. Running up the stone steps, meeting him halfway (you pay no mind to Ran who yells that you got dirt on him). Your shadows reach before your bodies do, overlapping underneath the flickering lamp post. 

“Rindō! Why’d you take so long?” You ask while leaning in, folding your hands behind your back. His blond locks are messy and sticking to his forehead instead of styled in his usual fashion, red cheeks and his chest is raising up and down as he breathes. “Did’ya run here? You’re looking a little red . . .”

He lets out an exasperated sigh, visibly annoyed with a prominent scowl on his face. “This idiot in front of me was taking his sweet fuckin’ time,” he replies, his glasses shift down his nose bridge and you reach your hand up to fix it. However, before you can, he grabs your wrist (a sudden yet gentle gesture) completely stopping you.

You awkwardly mutter, “Um. Sorry . . . ?” 

Rindō blinks before letting go of your hand, shaking his head. “Ah, no,” he clears his throat, “I got it. Thanks.”

Opening the plastic bag, he holds a bottle of ramune towards you. The little spot he touched burns, and it’s then when Rindō asks you what’s wrong because you had suddenly froze in your movements. “Did you want a different flavour? I think I saw a strawberry one left,” he offers, “or you can take my drink. It’s beer, though. You don’t drink, right?”

“No, no. I like it. I prefer the original one,” you decline as you take the drink from his hand. Fingers brushing against his cold ones. “Thanks, Rin.”

“I do, too. It’s my favourite.”

His favourite, yet he had replaced it for some cheap canned alcohol — he and Ran aren’t even old enough to drink, but you don’t really care, either. Things like that strangely suit them.

You bite your tongue when you almost reply, I know. However, you do respond with a brief, “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s a necessity on summer days, y’know?”

You can’t help, but agree. “That’s why I like it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

And you wonder if Rindō remembers everything that happened the summer the both of you first met — you do. Those summer days spent underneath the shade side by side sharing melting popsicles and ramune, running around Roppongi and challenging each other at the arcade games. Aiding new cuts and bruises that appear on the brother’s bodies, Rindō would place a bandaid on your hands and knees every time you had fallen down trying to catch up to them, and whispering secrets only meant for the two of you to know [ones Ran comes to know, unsurprisingly]. You miss those summer days, and you don’t want to see the end of this one too.

Days with the Haitani brothers are unforgettable — so special, a feeling nothing can replace. Your hometown has never once felt like this.

Nobody has made you feel this way before.

You bring the ramune to your mouth, sweetness dissolves on your tongue, your lips tingle, and your heart burns and burns and burns.

—Bang!

A sudden sharp noise causes you to jump, droplets of your drink splash onto your thin shirt and down your chest. The culprit is none other than Rindō, who had bought firecrackers along with the drinks — setting it off a little too close to him and Ran, bursting right beneath their feet. Rindō laughs uproariously due to your surprised expression — so loud and clear, it cuts through the cicadas’ callings, passing cars, and the booming of firecrackers. His smile is like the warmth of summer; brighter than sparklers and the sea of little stars above. Your cheeks heat up, and all you can see is him.

At this moment, it’s two a.m. at the end of July when everything hits you like a huge tidal wave. Oh. You understand it now. 

This feeling burns into you.

Everything feels like summer.

[auras-moonstone]

hiii i rlly love ur writing so if u cld write this i’d actually pass out ‼️

u can pick urself if it’ll be jack, Ethan, hockey player Ethan or even smth else! But what im thinking abt is like where he breaks up with reader because hes convinced he lost his feelings towards her but later on realized he didnt?? Hope u have a good day 🙁

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ all you had to do was stay

ᡣ𐭩 word count: 1.4K

ᡣ𐭩 pairing: hockey player!ethan landry x fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary: convinced his feelings are gone, ethan breaks up with y/n. when he wins the championship, he realizes he made a mistake.

ᡣ𐭩 contents/warnings: heartbreak. angst. make-up. fluff.

ethan truly thought his feelings for y/n had washed away. but it’s wasn’t until now, looking around the arena for her, having just won the hockey championship, that he realized that maybe he had rushed into conclusions and fucked everything up.

the team went to a bar to celebrate, and while his teammates drank and danced, ethan moped by the bar with a drink in his hand, replaying in his head, like a sad movie scene, the moment he ended things with y/n.

why had he been so stupid? he had set in his mind the idea that hockey should be above everything and anyone else, that it was the only thing that mattered. and not only he had managed to slowly tear the most important bond in his life, but he had also fooled himself into thinking the feelings weren’t there anymore.

“hey, man. i’m going home, tara’s waiting for me. talk to you later?” chad asked.

ethan forced a smile and nodded. “yeah, go. i’m leaving in a few, too.”

chad walked out of the bar, and ethan’s heart reached another level of heaviness. his best friend was going home to celebrate with his girlfriend, he had managed to maintain his relationship while having the exact same responsibilities than ethan. the difference? chad had never failed to find balance and see how important life outside hockey was. ethan hadn’t, and now that hockey was over for a while, he realized he had nothing left.

with an emptiness no amount of drinks could ever fill, he walked back to the dorms, where some people were still on cloud nine from the win. he was congratulated, patted in the back, yet he could not enjoy his win completely. not when the guiltiness and regret lingered heavily over him. was it too late to try get back on track the relationship he had drove off the road?

the celebration was certainly overwhelming for y/n because everything reminded her of ethan and the way he had locked her out when she was letting him in. hell, she was ready to say the l-word when he pushed her aside. the way he had broken her heart was one she remembered all too well, every word, every expression, every little movement.

ethan hovered over her, standing as she sat on the couch. frown on his face, pained expression, as if the act of letting out the words physically hurt him. “i don’t think i- i’m not sure if i… still have feelings for you. i don’t know, i just, it’s not the same as it was a months ago. it’s as if something is missing.”

“did it cross your mind that maybe the problem is that you put hockey first?”

“y/n that’s my future. of course i’m going to put hockey first.”

“sorry, let me rephrase that. did it cross your mind that maybe the problem is that hockey is all you care about? because it’s always about that. you have stopped having time for me since you became captain. do you even remember the last time you stayed over? that we went on a date? that we spend time together without you worrying over the championship or some other fucking match?”

“y/n…” he sighed.

“well, i can remember. three months, that was the last time you acted like a boyfriend. something was indeed missing in this relationship. you.”

“hockey is everything to me, y/n/n.”

“yes, and that’s the fucking problem, ethan. your whole life can’t revolve sorely on a sport. but you clearly can’t see that, so this is useless.”

that was the last time she spoke to him, but not the last she had seen him. it was impossible not to do that, he was blackmore’s hockey star, he was fucking everywhere. she, on the other hand, managed to hide in the shadows, so she made sure she stayed hidden and not bump into him. until now.

she was leaving tara’s dorm when her eyes caught his wide frame. her feet became one with the floor, not allowing her to move. like magnet, his attention quickly fell on her.

“y/n” her name fell out of his mouth absentmindedly.

at the sound of his rough voice, she snapped out of her daze. her lips parted, but she didn’t know what to say. and then his feet kept going until he was standing right before her. was it too much to ask to disappear?

“hi.” he said after a couple of seconds of silence.

“hi.” her soft voice warmed his heart, and he had to put his hands in his pockets to stop himself from bringing her into his arms. “um… congratulations. on the win.”

“thanks.” for the first time in the night, he truly felt like smiling.

“shouldn’t you be celebrating?” why was she still talking to him? her brain screamed ‘get out of here’ while her heart told her to stay.

“i wasn’t feeling it.” ethan shrugged.

y/n frowned. “you… weren’t feeling it? ethan, what are you talking about? you’ve worked so hard for this win.”

ethan let out a humourless laugh. “the funny thing is… it wasn’t until i lifted the cup that i realize that i wasn’t happy with the win.”

the girl blinked, trying to make sense of what he was saying. ethan landry, the boy who lived for hockey, was saying he wasn’t happy with winning a championship. what was wrong with the world? “i don’t understand.”

“what is succeeding if you don’t have anyone to celebrate it with? that trophy was a reminder of what i pushed away in order to get it. it made me feel miserable.”

“ethan…”

his sad gaze found hers. “what i’m trying to say is that i miss you, and that the win means nothing if you’re not with me. i looked around the stands, you weren’t there and it felt like a punch to the gut.”

she was certainly not ready to hear that. “let me remind you it was what you wanted, you ended it, ethan. you put hockey first, and it got us here.” maybe she was being a bit harsh, especially after he was pouring his heart out.

“i know. fuck. don’t i know it.” he was not going to cry. if y/n somehow managed to find it in her to forgive him, it was not going to be out of pity. but he wanted to sob so badly. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. i was so fucking blind, and i hurt you.”

hurt was an understatement. ethan had absolutely broke her, and she had been trying to pick up the pieces of the mess he had made.

“i want to punch myself for everything i’ve done. for taking this long to realize i made a huge mistake. i don’t want for my life to revolve around hockey.”

y/n nodded. “that’s a good realization.”

“i don’t know what to say. there’s no justification for what i did, i was stupid and that’s the only truth. i… i want us back.” the anguish was written on his face. “i don’t know what to do to fix it.”

“all you had to do was stay… you had me in the palm of your hand. i would’ve done anything for you.”

“i know, you were too good for me. and i promise you i’ll work everyday to be the person you deserve, if you let me.” he put a strand of hair behind her ear. “i’m never making the same mistake again. i love you. you don’t have to decide now, take as long as you need. i’d wait forever.”

“you know it can’t be like before, right? you can’t keep this relationship in the lowest rank of your priorities.”

“i know, and i won’t. i love hockey, going professional is still my goal but now i know that my dream isn’t only hockey, is having you by my side while i play it.”

y/n slowly broke into a smile. “i would hate to see you succeed without me.” she grimaced as soon as the words clicked. “shit, that sounded so awful. i didn’t mean that i don’t want you to succeed unless you’re with me. that would be so bitchy, and i know you hurt me but i would neve-“

ethan couldn’t help himself, he cut her rambling with a soft kiss. “you’re the absolute cutest. i love it when you ramble.”

“it’s rude to interrupt someone, landry. you need to learn some manners.” she gave him a quick peck. “i guess i’m taking you back, or whatever.”

the hockey player smiled like a little kid and lifted her up on his arms. “i love you. did you know that?”

“i know it now. and i love you, too.” she wrapped her legs around his waist. “now, let’s go celebrate, captain.”

“fuck, yes. i have so many ideas.” the mischievous glint in his deep brown eyes made her stomach swirl.

“i’m down for anything if it’s with you.”

[denpa-dere]

house arrest 3

afab!mc x beelzebub

description: NSFW, you are confined to your room for your own protection. But how long will that last when the only thing standing between you and your housemates is a door and some willpower? Would Beel pass the marshmallow test?

warnings: Capital B breeding kink with talks of impregnation, babies, afab reader with she/her pronouns. Talk of emotional eating. Dubcon warning!!! This one turned out sounding kind of sketch in places, but actions depicted are intended to be consensual. Size kink.

Note: reader is described as being shorter and smaller than Beel, but I tried not to go into specifics. so just scale Beel in your mind to however big he'd have to be to be significantly larger than you.

|| Intro || Mammon || Asmo (mini) || Levi || Satan (mini) || Beel || Lucifer (mini) || Asmo || Belphie (mini) || Belphie || Barbatos (mini) || Satan || Diavolo (mini) ||

For the past few days, Beezlebub had been eating his feelings. 

He was a menace in the kitchen, he could admit it. Since breakfast three days ago, no meals were able to be prepared to completion without interference from the sixth-born. Occasionally, one of his brothers would try to separate him from the fridge where he had set up camp, but each attempt only served to make him more irritable and territorial, less like himself. It soon became clear that their efforts were not worth the struggle and creative measures were implemented to allow for some form of cookery. 

Belphagor hovered as much as his fatigue would permit, worried for his twin. Left unspoken for the sake of Beel's dignity, Belphie understood intrinsically the depth of the hunger you had unlocked in his brother. It was a terrifying force to be reckoned with, one that could very easily boil over into something disastrous. 

At this late hour, Beel was alone, Belphie having retreated to the attic for yet another nap. Four puddings pushed down the memory of your scent for the nth time. Twelve poisoned apples for how his hands dwarfed your tiny shoulders. A couple boxes of leftover takeout to smother your big doe eyes looking up at him before the first shove kicked off a regretful fight between his brothers. 

Guilt weighed like an albatross around Beel's neck. He loved his family- you were included in that. You rounded out their group in a way that felt complete. Beel wasn't always the most articulate demon, but his feelings were genuine and acute; sometimes overwhelmingly so. 

"Oh, hey."

He felt sick. 

Beel twisted to see you over his shoulder, refrigerator door still halfway open. You were standing in the kitchen doorway, looking unsure, picking your fingernails. You looked so small. 

"I was going to get something to drink," You said, as if you needed an excuse to be there. 

He smiled at you and hoped it was reassuring, "I think there's some juice left."

"Thanks, that'll work," You returned the grin, relieved he broke the tension first. He sat the carton on the counter and stepped aside.

See? You could both be normal about this.

“I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you,” You mused, getting yourself a glass from the cupboard, “I’m going stir-crazy in there.”

Beel leaned against an opposite counter, “How much longer are you locked down for?”

“Ugh, I don’t know, two or three more days, maybe?” You mirrored him from across the room, “I hope Lucifer doesn’t think I’m doing this every month. Absolutely not.”

Every month.

This was going to happen every month? Indefinitely? He felt light-headed. How was he supposed to contend with this on a regular basis? A month was nothing. 

“You okay?” You asked, shaking Beel from his thoughts. 

“Yeah,” He replied, “Are you at least eating enough?”

“No complaints there,” You shrugged, sipping your drink, “Anyway, I should head back.”

The words came out reflexively the moment your back was turned: “I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too,” You beamed back at him, stopping in your tracks. You were so pretty when you smiled. He felt his heart speed up.

“Can I walk you back?” He asked, knowing very well he shouldn't, but not ready to say goodbye just yet. 

You hesitated for only a moment, "Yeah, I'd like that."

___

Trying to keep pace with you was always a little awkward, given your much shorter stride. Beel was used to waiting up for others after a few millennia of adapting to Belphie's slothful movements. Still, the urge to scoop you up and carry you with him tugged at his fraying nerves. Would you mind? You'd let him do it before…

Even if you did mind, it'd be easy, he thought, to simply hook an arm around your waist and lift you like a fangol ball. You could wiggle and fight as much as you wanted, but realistically, you were physically no match for the most average of demons, let alone one such as himself. Especially if caught by surprise, with no time for magic (or pact orders) to level the playing field. Despite all of your time spent in the Devildom, your trusting nature left you wide open to any number of those with ill intent. It was like you refused to understand that humans were prey. 

Which is why you needed to be here, with him them, Beel reminded himself. To keep you safe. Because, right now, you were all but screaming to be devoured. 

Sweat dotted his brow. Maybe going with you was a mistake. Without a constant stream of food to distract himself, his thoughts were drifting to dark and unfamiliar territory. Even tucked under his arm, were you really safe? He swallowed the rapidly pooling spit in his mouth, chewing on the discomforting idea. 

"Well, this is my stop," You said, breaking the uneasy silence that had formed between you. Your hand hovered on the doorknob, but neither of you moved. He was certain you could read the distress all over his face. You were good at that sort of thing. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked gently, twisting the handle.

"I don't know," He replied, honest as ever, "I want to spend more time with you, but I'm worried."

"That you'll hurt me?"

He nodded, "Or worse."

You seemed to consider his words carefully. You studied his expression, though what you were searching for was unclear. Finally, you shrugged as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. 

"I'm not worried," You said, pushing open your bedroom door, "I trust you."

___

Beel loved his family. He loved you. 

But he could stand for there to be more of you. 

It was his single-minded focus, and had been since… since however long it had been that you'd allowed him into your room, he supposed. 

You entered first. You showed your back to him and he went after you, blinded by instinct. Time was fuzzy after that. Later, Beel would go through and make sense of things. Right now, with your cunt squeezing him so deliciously, the only semi-coherent thought in his head was breeding you over and over and over again. 

"More, one more," He slurred almost apologetically. If he could feel the satisfaction of cumming deep inside your tight little body just one more time, then he would be sated. Maybe. Probably. 

You were like jelly, eyes rolled back, reduced to wordless noises while he bounced you on his cock. Your arms hung loose around his neck, legs locked around his waist. Dark marks bloomed across your skin, purple bruises in the shape of hands and teeth despite his best efforts to keep your trust. It took everything he had not to break your soft, salty skin when he tasted you. He mouthed at whatever exposed flesh he could reach, desires and intentions blurring hopelessly together into a confusing mess. 

You fell against him with a pathetic cry as another orgasm was pulled from your poor, overstimulated body. You were trembling uncontrollably. He curled protectively around you, kissing your sweat-slicked temple and murmuring sweet praise that bubbled up through his mental haze. You were taking him so well, please, just one more for him, please, one more so he could make absolutely sure you wound up carrying his babies- and why stop at one? You were going to be gorgeous pregnant, working so hard to make their family even bigger, giving him even more people to love. Fuck– he couldn't get enough of you. 

He felt a tightening in his core that signaled he was close. He held you in place, bottoming out when he bucked up into you. Stretched obscenely full, your walls pulsed around him, milking his cock for all he could give. You groaned something that sounded like his name muffled into his chest, your desperate keening triggering his own release. His previously rhythmic grunting built into a low growl as he pumped thick ropes of cum deep into your already stuffed cunt. Beel let out a small whine feeling some of his seed dripping out around him. It wasn't fair. It all belonged to you. 

A brief moment of clarity washed over him in the wake. He knew you were tired- exhausted, actually, judging by your adorable fucked-out expression. That was okay, he could help. He'd get you cleaned up and into fresh pajamas before taking you upstairs to rest together in his bed. 

Consequences be damned, he was going to keep you close. He knew Belphie wouldn't mind. Besides, what if he needed more later? 

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Sonny Carisi: Lucky To Have You 

This was inspired by my rewatch of episode 19x8. Amanda was so awful to Sonny. (I’m sorry I’m not a fan of the couple.) This came out of nowhere and wrote itself in two hours. Enjoy xoxo 

Warning: Anti-Amanda and anti-Rollisi content.  

You plopped down on the chair across from Sonny. His gaze jumped up to you startled out of his thoughts. Sonny had become a regular at the cafe you co-owned. He first ventured in three months prior. You knew he would be trouble and not because of the gun and badge attached to his hip. No, it would be a lot worse kind. 

The kind that would leave marks on your already bruised heart.  

You had found him attractive as soon as he had walked in and it hadn’t taken long for his personality to make him even hotter. His sassy attitude and genuine care for others were impossible for you to fault. You had instantly formed a crush. You had flirted shamelessly as he had ordered. He was friendly but didn’t seem interested. Over the next few weeks, you found out why as you developed a semblance of a friendship. He had feelings for another girl. She was a cop that he worked with Amanda. 

Under normal circumstances, you would have been able to let it go. Then he started looking to you for your opinion on the situation. He told you the nitty gritty of their interactions. You came to a quick calculated conclusion-  

Amanda Rollins was totally and completely using him. 

It made it so much worse that Sonny was head over heels for her. He wanted to be all in with her and raise her daughter Jesse as his own. You had delicately tried to tell him your opinion but he had transferred the blame of it not going smoothly to himself. You knew he wasn’t ready to hear it and didn’t want to.  

You had been there before yourself. So, you lent him a listening ear and let yourself be placed in the friend zone. Sonny was too magnetic to ignore. He made you laugh you’d rather have that as friendship than nothing at all.  

He looked so defeated in his seat staring at his sandwich instead of eating it. “You want to talk about it?” His gaze shifts up to you and he shakes his head in frustration.  

“I’m just stupid,” You think he isn’t going to continue but he does. Telling you about the work trip with Amanda to pick up a suspect. The late night at the bar, the bar fight, and how it felt so good to feel like he wasn’t just a cop. He had felt a connection with Amanda as they had fought together. He had walked her back to her hotel room thinking she had felt it too. Only to find the next morning that she had slept with the bartender.  

You wince sympathetically, “I’m so sorry Sonny.” You touch his forearm, trying to ignore the zaps of electricity, to comfort him. “But you are so much more than a cop.” You look back at the staff you have for the day. It is a good bunch. You redirect your gaze back to him with a bright smile. “Do you have plans for today?” He raised his eyebrow tilting his head as he assessed you. 

It had been enough of an agreement. You had led him out to your car urging him into your passenger seat. You let him pick the music and rolled down the windows to enjoy the summer heat. You thought he would ask where you were going but he didn’t. You had just left the city when you finally asked, “Left or right?”  

His blue eyes had shined when he directed you left. You guys drove around randomly for hours and Sonny seemed a lot happier. The two of you were talking and changing the music to songs the other had never heard of. You stopped when you realized that you had been out this way before. “Oh, hey I think I know where we are.” Sonny sat up and looked around. He realized he hadn’t been paying attention to where you guys had been going.  

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah, I drove up this way a few months ago.” You glanced at him admitting softly, “It was a bad day.” Sonny didn’t know why that surprised him. Everyone has bad days. But you had always seemed like a constant ray of sunshine. Even when you got frustrated or overwhelmed you always seemed able to laugh it off and keep a smile on your face. “You know we are only a little over three hours from Niagra Falls. I almost went last time when I stopped for lunch a town over and found out where I was.” 

“Why didn’t you?” You hummed softly to yourself, tilting your head back and forth in thought.  

“I don’t know. I’ve never been there before and it- It just didn’t seem like a place to go when you were sad and alone.” 

“Well, you’re not sad or alone right now.” You laughed clicking on your turn signal to head towards the amazing mom and papa diner you had found. 

“Yeah okay,” When Sonny didn’t join in your laughter you looked back at him. “You’re not serious- you want to go to the falls today?” Your excitement couldn’t be contained and leeched into your voice. “We’ve already been driving around for almost four hours and it's almost three. We would be home so late tonight.” Sonny just kept smiling at you with a raised eyebrow. You start bouncing in your seat. “Yes, yes, yes! Okay but first, I have to take you to the place with the best breakfast food you will ever eat.” 

Sonny ended up taking over driving after he reluctantly agreed that the diner was in fact the best breakfast he had ever had. The rest of the trip was just as lively. It felt like the two of you had fallen into a different level of friendship. The falls were amazing and Sonny let you linger for as long as you wanted. He snapped a few pictures on his phone making a comment about you guys coming back with his camera to take more pictures. You had to remind your over-excited heart that the two of you were just friends.  

You stayed until dusk and were ushered out with the park closing. It was late and Sonny was the one who threw out the idea of getting a hotel and starting back in the morning. You agreed, texting your opener that you probably wouldn’t be in until the middle of their shift, and if it got busy to call in the college student who was begging for hours. 

It was a cheap hotel that looked like it hadn’t been remodeled since the 60s but was in a safe area. He walked you to your door and thanked you for the trip. There was a lightness back in his blue eyes that made his smile seem even brighter. He was close to you, his body practically brushing yours. You could smell his cologne, rich and musky. It invaded your senses and you would blame that on losing control because Amanda Rollins was a fool and you would be damned if you were going to be one too.  

You tilt into him, pressing on your toes to steal a kiss. His lips are soft and taste of coffee. You let the sensations take over you as you drop to your feet. When you finally open your eyes you see him staring at you like a puzzle he can’t figure out. You wonder if you should apologize but that simple kiss was one of the best you have ever had.  

His hand cups your cheek as he slowly leans to kiss you again. You smile into the kiss and giggle giddily as he pulls back. His face still shows confusion even with his smile, “Anyone would be lucky to have you, Dominick Carisi.” His blue eyes blaze You turn opening the door. You look back and he is starting to step away- a gentleman as always. 

You had always been more demanding.  

You grab at his forearm and he pauses. You step back into the room letting your hand slide down until your fingers find his interlocking. Then you pull gently encouraging him forward. He follows you dotingly, the door swinging closed behind him.

 

Taglist: 

@polkadotpenguin16 

@pulparindos 

@rebeccapineapple 

[snowyquokka]

Hiiii how are you

I have e a request for han or seungmin that their enemies and they have to go to a party that their friends are going to and the reader gets really drunk so they help them and they both confess to liking each other and it's just really fluffy

I hope I explained that the right way

Ps love your work

Lots of love A<3

BUTTERFLIES

frat boy han jisung x fem reader

cw: mature themes MDNI, mentions of sex, alcohol consumption (both above age), swearing, angst EVEN THOUGH IT WAS SUPPOSED TO ONLY BE FLUFF, second chance lovers, college au, blah blah blah

wc: 1.2k

a.n - i apologize for this taking me so long but i really wanted to get it right and do the prompt justice. i absolutely loved writing this and i appreciate the request !! (thank you ina for letting me blow up your dms over this <3)

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

“You are so fucking lucky I love you,” you mutter as you walk into a frat party with your best friend, Mina. She wouldn’t stop pestering you about ‘coming out of your shell’ and ‘loosening up.’

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll thank me later, babe. And don’t worry, I’m the DD tonight. Have fun, seriously.” she smiles. You’d be lying if you said that deep down - very deep, like in the abyss of your soul - you weren’t grateful for her making you leave your room, where she thought you’d live forever if she didn’t have a say.

“Oo, lookie!” Mina exclaims as she points out two guys leaning against the kitchen island. Lee Minho and you’ve gotta be kidding me,

“Mina, no. You’ve got me fifty shades of fucked up if you think I’m gonna go talk to Han,” you make a face at the bitter taste of his name.

“You haven’t even spoken to him in what,” she counts on her fingers, “…8 months?

“Mina, I don’t think getting coffee at the same shop counts as talking.” you roll your eyes, “He’s a complete dickhead who has absolutely no consideration for others,” Mina shrugs and grabs your arm before dragging you over towards the two men despite your protests.

You immediately catch Jisung’s attention, watching as a small smirk tugs on his lips.

“Ah, Mina! How are you?” Minho beams at your best friend.

While they get caught up in their conversation you look around and spot a tray of Jell-O shots sitting on the counter unattended. Shrugging your shoulders, you pick one up and down it with zero hesitation.

Without even registering it, you consume three in less than two minutes. At least you’re enjoying yourself, right?

“I’d be careful if I were you, nabi.” You cringe at the nickname as Jisung’s voice cuts through the music playing in the background. You turn around to face him with a groan.

“I’m not in the mood, Han.” you grab another shot.

“Ouch. Back to last names, are we?” Jisung clutches his chest in mock pain, earning an eye roll from you. You glance over at Mina - or rather, where she was standing five minutes ago.

“Where’d they go?” You nod towards the now empty space.

“Probably going to fuck,” he shrugs, “Who knows?”

You huff and cross your arms over your chest.

“Oh come on, nabi. You can’t avoid me forever.” Your cheeks redden in annoyance.

“I can and I will actually. Also, stop calling me that.”

He scoffs as you walk away with yet another shot in your hand.

After a few moments of hesitation, he reluctantly follows you. “Wait. Can we ta-“

Jisung cuts himself off at the sight of you dancing with some guy from his fraternity, his hands on your hips as you sway them to the beat. Something in Jisung’s chest twists and a pit forms in his stomach. Shaking his head and pushing down his feelings, he turns to walk away.

Not worth it, Ji.

That is until he hears your laugh. Your sweet, gentle, angelic laugh. Sparked by someone who looks like they’d forget your name before he even gets what he wants from you.

Fuck. All. That.

Jisung downs the rest of his beer and stalks towards the two of you.

“Get your fucking hands off my girl.” he glares at the other man.

Jisung ignores him and snatches your wrist and drags you away, careful not to let you fall.

“J - Han get off of me,” you sputter as you attempt to set yourself free as he guides you upstairs to a vacant bedroom.

“I am not yours, asshole.” you wipe your palms down your dress in order to try to make it stretch a little more past your thighs. The movement doesn’t go unnoticed by Jisung who has to force himself to tear his eyes away from your curves. Curves that he’s dreamt of holding underneath his fingertips for years.

“Why won’t you have one conversation with me? You’re acting like we weren’t inseparable two years ago,” Jisung runs a hand through his already disheveled hair. He’s not sure if it’s the alcohol giving him confidence or if it’s his physical need to be as close as he can to you.

“You left, what did you expect to happen?” you let out once your mind starts to uncloud.

Jisung advances towards you, the beat of the music downstairs matching your racing pulse. With each step he takes, your heart knots tighter and tighter. Once he reaches you he places his hand on the wall beside you, caging you in.

Your senses heighten and the intensity of his gaze forces you to shrink yet you carry on, “You didn’t even care about what I had to say about it. In fact, I didn’t even know you were going until three hours before your flight took off.”

Your words are like a knife to his abdomen.

He searches your eyes for something - anything - other than pain.

Nothing.

The knife twists in his gut.

You don’t realize you’re crying until Jisung’s hand comes up to brush your tears off of your cheeks.

“I’ve hated myself everyday for the past two years, nabi. I thought of coming back to you but..” he trails off.

“Ji, don’t do this to me. I can’t. Please.” your voice shakes more than you would like it to as you try to warrant off more tears. You’ve always been an emotional drunk, but this? This is next level.

“You know, the moment I found out where you were going to college I immediately applied there? And then I applied to every college in the area, just in case I didn’t get accepted,” his voice drops to a mere whisper, “I did it because I wanted to fix us. I want to fix us.”

Your mouth falls slightly agape as you attempt to process the absolute bomb he just threw at you,

“It would’ve been easier if I hadn’t..” you cut off and wipe your mascara-stained cheeks, tilting your head back against the wall and closing your eyes. You’re too afraid to acknowledge the truth.

You’ve always been too afraid.

Though, you aren’t very sure what the truth is, exactly.

Jisung leans in and speaks softly into your ear, “I fell in love, too.”

Your eyes flutter open to see him nose-to-nose with you.

Warmth that has nothing to do with the amount of alcohol you’ve consumed spreads throughout you, head to toe, and something velvety skates along your soul.

“Butterflies,” you mumble unwittingly.

Jisung smiles softly and leans his forehead against yours.

“Can you find somewhere in that big, beautiful heart for me?” he looks down and threads his fingers with yours.

“No need,” you smile, “it was all yours to begin with.”

tags: @godslino @skzstarnet @anakin-sweetheart

divider: @chaeneuu

[astarionenjoyer69420]

reader x astarion - "i want an heir"

hi! this is my first fanfiction ever!

summary: ascended astarion has some...desires that only you can provide for him.

warnings: dubcon/noncon, smut, breeding kink, cnc, bondage

(not my gif)

You were his. Forever. Aetherna amantis, he had claimed. Lovers forever. It almost sounded too good to be true. 

You should have known it was too good to be true. 

Being one of Astarion’s spawn, albeit the prized one, was not all it was cracked up to be. Sure, you had a certain degree of protection. And yes, you got to live in this fancy mansion, existing by your lover’s side both day and night. And the bite marks he had gifted you on your neck; well, they were just more reminders that you were his, entirely his, and no one could take you away from him. 

But Astarion had been ascended for a few months now. You had gone from being his only one, his only prized spawn, as he had promised you, to brothers and sisters galore, traipsing up and down the halls of the palace he promised was solely for the two of you. As much as you wanted to complain, you knew your now master would never hear of it. And he would get in one of his moods.  

And when Astarion got in one of his moods…you knew trouble was headed your way. 

And that’s how you came to be completely helpless, arms bound to posts of his velvety bed, stark naked with the nip of chilled air the only thing covering your body, rag shoved in your mouth so you couldn’t even talk to yourself, couldn’t even make any noises besides mere vocalizations. 

At least you still got some individual attention compared to the other spawn. 

He had tied you up…crap, how long could it have been? Hours ago now, most certainly, or maybe that was just you getting in your own head. “Be good, darling,” he had purred, tugging your restraints so hard they dug into your flesh, after he had physically picked you up and forced you onto his bed. “I’ll be back when I’m done for the day.” But he had not said exactly when, and there were no clocks in this ancient room. So you had sat, tears welling in your eyes at the utter humiliation of it all, for what felt like an eternity. And the bastard knew you couldn’t fall asleep, either. 

But there was something else. The longer you waited, the longer the pool of warmth grew between your legs, aching with anticipation for what would come next. Your thighs smushed together, desperate to indulge in any sort of stimulation, imagination running wild as to what your master had planned for you. He had never…done this before. Forced you to submit to him. You were always a good girl. But defying, you realized, had its advantages. And with every bit you wiggled and the leather dug into your wrists, the more slick you felt fountaining from between your legs. 

Low noises from the hall…footsteps. Quick, light footsteps. Your heart thrummed at a breakneck pace in your chest. You would know that stride anywhere. He was back. Your cheeks grew hot, remembering how completely exposed you were, stripped of any choice in him seeing you entirely nude. And you were starting to begrudge that fire in your belly that picked up when you thought about your forced indecency. 

Your lover’s footsteps grew nearer, then stopped as you discerned the sounds of a key turning in a lock. You were practically vibrating with adrenaline when he stepped in the room, swiftly sealing his door behind him, red eyes shifting to your helpless form on his bed.

You couldn’t help it; in the face of such perfection you felt almost dizzy. Power radiated through him, jagged and dark and untamable. Under his cloak, bulging muscles tugged at the fabric, and his white curls boasted perfection, as always. You were so overcome with lust you could barely speak…even if you hadn’t had a gag in your mouth. He was always the most beautiful creature you had ever laid eyes on, but the commanding swagger he exuded after he became master to you and the other spawn was, admittedly, a great look for him. 

He approached your body, wisps of a smirk tugging at his perfectly plump lips. “Darling. Tsk. Look at you, still here where I put you all those hours ago.” His smirk widened, becoming overt. “Not that you had much of a choice…I mean, look at you.”

“Mmph,” you tried to respond, your inaudible reply sending a flood of humiliation to your head, and you became aware of a soft thrumming in your nether regions. God, you had no idea you were so into this, being completely and utterly helpless and so degraded, but you supposed you were just along for the ride at this point. 

A pause. Thirsty eyes gazed into yours, never breaking eye contact as his overclothes were shed, and you tried (in vain) not to ogle his perfectly defined body; he had to be handcrafted by the gods themselves. You were grateful for even this tiny moment to soak him in; he was so busy nowadays.

“Darling, I have a proposition for you.” 

Your eyes darted to his face, which had abruptly transformed into something more serious, more pensive. You really hoped this proposition had something to do with his mouth and a few choice body parts, although it had been mostly you servicing him like that since the ascension. “Mmph?”

He stepped closer to the bed, and he was so close you could almost (metaphorically) taste him; every inch of his flesh was perfect, and you longed to be able to touch him, to reach out and trail your fingers down his abs, caressing his marble figure, lowering your hand down to his happy trail and lower…lower…

He inhaled sharply, taking time to fully release his breath from his lungs. “Darling, it can’t be any surprise you’re my favorite of the bunch of these…creatures. You know, we genuinely had something before…all of this. It was cute, yes, cute, the way you stared at me, the flawed…thing I was before I became unstoppable. Unkillable.”

Okay, not off to the best start by calling you and the rest of the spawn creatures, but you would take it for now. Especially because he was really hot. Like, really hot. And missing him all day helped matters as well.

“And so, now to my point. I have been…thinking recently. About the future. About expanding my network, so to speak.” His brow crinkled, and he began to pace, back and forth by the foot of the bed. “And how, since you’re usually so terribly obedient, how I could honor you in some way, perhaps by making you a part of that future.”

He stopped pacing, averting his gaze to rest on you, his eye contact almost too intense to bear. “After today, I realized you couldn’t be trusted anymore to serve me. Struggling, resisting your master simply will not do. Which is why this is going to happen now, regardless of any of those pesky opinions you might have about it.” He spat the word opinions out like it was poison on his tongue, and unfortunately the growl in his voice made the heartbeat between your thighs thrum more intensely.

“I want an heir. And you’re going to carry him for me.”

Silence. Your pulse skyrocketed, feeling like a hummingbird in your chest, but your brain had not been able to process his words yet. An heir? As in, like, a child? A…pregnancy? No, no, that wasn’t possible between two vampires. Unless… “Mmph…”

“I know, darling, aren’t you just so thrilled to hear the news,” he cooed, reaching out, cool fingers cascading slowly down your cheek, every nerve in your body alight at the simple touch. “It can happen, you know. Between vampire and spawn.”

And he was by your ear, you flashing back to nights in camp right before he would bite down on you, excitement zinging through your body like a rogue boomerang. His whisper surrounded you, tickled your neck, had you crying between your thighs. “And you would look just so pretty all swollen with my child. Body completely belonging to me. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Logistically, you were panicking. Even if what he was saying was true, who knew if it was, that he could…get you pregnant in the first place, you had never been the maternal type. Your life as an adventurer had prohibited any thought of parenthood to ever cross your mind, and you figured you had officially forfeited that path once your heart had shuddered to a stop after your master’s ascension.

Logistically, sure, yes, bad idea. But an ever-growing part of you; one bellowing as it invaded you, sent waves of bliss through your body, moistened your inner thighs; wanted this. Wanted it bad, wanted it more than anything. You would be his, all his, a display of submission so great it physically took hold of you. None of the other spawn would have that privilege. And moment by moment, this was all looking more and more alluring. “Mmph…”

You felt yourself flush again as the vampire hopped into the bed, positioning himself so he was completely on top of you, using his two arms to balance himself, making you look at him directly in his glowing, almost ravenous eyes. Up close, it was even more unfair that he oozed perfection; unmarked skin, smelling of bergamot, rosemary and fine brandy, so tantalizing it made your head spin. Though you wanted to resist, wanted to protest, wanted to try and kick him off of you, Astarion was using the full extent of his vampiric charisma on you.

You couldn’t do anything but stare as he lowered himself to your neck, brushing gently against your collarbone at first, an involuntary moan escaping from your lips, only slightly resenting yourself for how much you would inevitably show you enjoyed this a little too much. With a low chuckle, he nipped lightly at your neck, not yet drawing blood, pain intermingling with pleasure as you knew he was marking you. He loved to do this, especially when he was in one of his moods, teasing you and working you up until you were begging him to give you pain, give you anything.

“Mmm…” you murmured as his teeth scraped your flesh, puncturing you, penetrating you, all over, as if your entire neck was his to maim. Your neck was throbbing, no doubt blooming now with marks all over, and you loved every second of it. You wanted the other spawn to know you were his, that you had the honor of being marked by him. 

Your hips bucked into him, once again desperate for any kind of touch, even just one lone finger. Your wrists yanked at the restraints as your body made itself known, shame of being completely nude gone, just wanting some release. 

Astarion pulled back, breathing hard, something gleaming in his eye. It wasn’t hunger, but it was close. Hunger for…something else. Something more than blood could give him. “Wear your hair back tomorrow,” he growled. “I want everyone to see what you let me do to you.” 

You nodded meekly, pulsing between your legs nearly painful, being fairly certain you had soaked the sheets. Although you knew you might be punished for it, you continued to try and grind on your master, though the angle wasn’t quite right. And he knew damn well what he was preventing you from doing, splayed completely on top of you, deadening any hope of movement in your legs for the time being. 

Astarion grinned. “I love it when you’re so good for me. See, it isn’t that hard, now is it?”

You shook your head, widening his smile, being only able to watch as he grabbed your breast, massaging it slowly with his hands, earning another choked moan from you as he pinched your nipple hard between two of his slender fingers. “Maybe if you were a bit more obedient this morning, you would get something of a choice in this matter.” 

His other hand made its way to your other breast, squeezing tightly. “But now…cute little sluts that like getting tied up need to get taught a lesson.” Your body was on fire, the shape of his large erection now prominently pressing on your thighs, and you dripped with want- no, need. “You want to get knocked up by me so badly, hm? You fought against me so hard this morning, but you want me to own your body for nine whole months more than anything, is that right?”

Any logical thoughts you harbored had sailed away long ago. “Mmm…” you replied in affirmation, drunk on him, his scent, his scarlet eyes, the low intonation of his voice, the way you were helpless, you had no defense, he could fuck a baby inside of you with no resistance. 

“Good girl,” he replied, and to your humiliation his hand trailed downward, dancing on your skin ever so slightly, goosebumps raising on your arm as he made his way between your legs, nearly casually dragging his index finger up the side of your folds. You gasped, the stimulation almost too much to bear, the bed quaking as your whole body seized with pleasure.

“Tsk, tsk,” he intoned, drawing his hand away as quickly as it had come, your clit thrumming with disappointment. “You have such a pretty little pussy, positively, delightfully soaked by me.” A low growl. A pause. Then: “Too bad I’m going to fucking ruin you for anyone else.” 

Before you could think, before you could react, his hand was back on you, aggrandizing slow circles being drawn around your clit, your heartbeat so loud you could barely hear his whispering. “Have to prepare you to be bred, darling. Have to give you so much pleasure your body knows me, and only me.”

Your legs shook, warm, radiant pulses emanating through every limb in your body, every neuron welcoming his touch, his filthy words, your complete and utter submission. You were already close- fuck, how were you already close? You pressed your pussy against him, trying to ride this high, to feel his beautiful hands while they were there. You began to tremble.

As if he could read your mind, his pace quickened, stroking you with renewed firmness, pressing down on your clit directly with his thumb, making you see stars. “Greedy,” he chided, his reproach only making you want him more, climbing higher and higher toward your release, flames licking at your core. “How does it feel to be defenseless? Totally at my mercy? Subject to the whims of your master, totally and utterly mine?”

You practically yelled as your body prepared you to cum, muscles tensing, his velvet voice so close to tipping you over the edge.

Then, he stopped.

Stopped point-blank, withdrawing his hands, sitting up, your body humming with broken promises, with betrayal. With wide eyes, you stared at his godly figure, silently beseeching him for an answer, for him to keep touching you, for…anything. You were a sopping mess, a puddle, your clitoris swollen with need. Tears sprung forward, much to your embarrassment. This wasn’t fair. You needed him.

You had apparently become upset presumptuously, because your lover had taken you to the edge and then ceased because he wanted to give you the proper treatment. This became obvious as the clothes on the lower half of his body were shed, you unabashedly reveling in the show, a huge, thick pale cock springing forward from his pants as they crumpled to the floor.

You always wondered how you could take him. Conservatively, he must have been eight inches, and you could barely wrap a hand around his girth. It had taken your breath away the first time you had seen it, one of your sweeter sexual meetups, a drunken encounter after a party, what seemed like ages ago now. It was sweet, him taking the lead, servicing you over and over again being the main event, him whimpering with carnal lust every time you so much as brushed against his length. But sweetness had been gone from your bedroom for a while now. Not that you minded so much. This…was also nice. Your mouth began to salivate staring at his perfect cock, wanting in equal measure for him to be inside of you and to taste him. 

Unfortunately, your master knew you too well, unabashed smarminess plain as day across his face after catching you ogling. He threw his head back to laugh; something you had never heard addressed to you before a few months ago, sadistic and mocking. “My little pet is so terribly desperate for this cock, isn’t that right, darling?” As you moaned your confirmation, he pushed your legs apart, the chill of the castle room whispering on your wet pussy, him smiling as he did so. In fact, he almost looked positively giddy to have you here, with no one to aid you. “Be a good little fuckdoll and take it, hm?”

You weren’t thinking about logistics anymore. You weren’t thinking about whether what he wanted was possible in the first place. All you knew, all you could register, all you could feel, was your body being folded in half, your legs nearly touching your shoulders, and your lover’s strikingly beautiful form above you, like a siren, like original sin himself. 

“Let’s cut the pretense, darling,” he purred, and you could feel him line himself up with your core, your body reading yourself for him, the tip of his cock dancing among your slick folds, your body writhing and spasming with need. “I’m not going to be gentle, nor must I be to give you my most precious gift, my son. You’re going to be stuffed full of my seed by the time I’m done with you, and you’re going to absolutely adore it. Understood?”

Astarion thrust forward, snapping into you, giving you no time to respond, no time to  adjust to his length. A cry escaped your lips, muffled by your makeshift gag; it felt like you were being torn in two, your pussy burning with the stretch of his width inside you, hitting your cervix, the pinch making your recoil. He began ravaging you, hips snapping back and forth, tears now streaming down your face and onto the silk pillows. He had never fucked you this brutally before, pain quickly ebbing into ecstasy as you clenched around his girth, so perfectly full of him.

Your master groaned, low and deep in his throat, eyes fluttering closed. His tough facade was crumbling, desire unmasked at last. “Always…always so fucking tight for me,” he panted, grabbing your chin, ruby eyes captivating yours as he pummeled you. He was a sight to behold, mouth ajar as he drew in breath, fangs glistening in the candlelight, smoldering gaze on your face. “G-gods above.”

The sound of your lover pumping inside of you permeated the stone room as if it were a heartbeat. Your mind spun, unable to focus on anything but the sensation of his cock impaling you, whimpering as he shifted his angle oh-so-slightly and hit your most sensitive spot. He knew how bad you wanted to be put in your place, the way his length dripped with your moisture revealing it, no perception checks necessary. 

“That’s right, darling,” Astarion cooed, recovered from the dominant edge slipping during his entrance, hips bucking faster within you, hammering your sweet spot. Dark spots danced at the edges of your vision. “Tell me, who’s my good little slut?”

Moaning through your gag, your walls eagerly clenched hard around him, feeling as if you were floating through the small pinches in your cervix as he thrust. It was you, you knew it was you, he knew it was you. You were his, mind, body, and soul. You couldn’t put any coherent thoughts together, and all you knew is that you wanted him as deep as he could go. 

He took you like that for a while, until you could feel your release approaching once again, the rhythm of Astarion inside of you so intense now you could barely breathe. Your fingernails dug into his back, earning a sharp hiss from the vampire, who in turn finally tore his eyes away from you to sink his fangs into your neck. Gasping at the sudden ache blossoming through your throat, you lost control. A wave of bliss tumbled through your body as you screamed, your orgasm ripping through you like a trail of fire. Astarion fucked you through it, every thrust to your overstimulated core making you see stars as you felt your blood slip further through his porcelain lips. 

As your climax receded, your vampire drew back, mouth and chin smeared bright crimson. You recalled the first time you had let him feed on you, the night you found out he was a vampire; he was careful, and he knew not to take so much. His face was softer then, a blush of gratitude touching his dialogue. Memories of that first night seemed so far now as you examined the beast before you, all sharp angles and lust.

“Well, isn’t this just perfect,” he sighed. “Thank god you’re so enamored with me. Conceiving is so much easier this way.”

And he began again, thrusting even harder than before. 

You could barely take it, the sensation of his cock burrowing even deeper inside of you, and you became conscious of embarrassingly inhuman noises you were eking out. Astarion gripped your chin, forcing eye contact as he continued to ravage you, minute beads of sweat trailing down his ivory face. Fingers dug into your face as you gazed into the vampire’s eyes, their shade of scarlet deeper than ever, unable to think about anything but his steely regard, futilely attempting to choke out his name. Smirking at your failed attempt, of course he was. He always made you feel so good, and unfortunately, he knew it. 

“Fantastic,” he cooed. “That’s my good fucking girl. You like this, don’t you? To be nothing but a toy for me. To be completely and totally vulnerable…” He hammered into you harder, your entire body nothing but a vessel centered around him, your sex practically chanting his name. His words sent pure shock to your core; resistance was futile and the new gush of wetness between your thighs proved it. Liking it was certainly inside the realm of possibility. Adoring it was far more likely. 

The bed groaned beneath your entangled forms, and your lover leaned in toward you, teeth grazing the top of your ear. “I’m close, my sweet.” And you felt yourself clenching around him much more, body thrumming with the promise of your shared release. 

With a grunt, Astarion dropped his face to ensnare you in a kiss as his warmth flooded into you, thrusting sporadically as he filled you to the brim. “Fuck,” he breathed as he forced himself deeper into you, taking care that none of his seed leaked from your eager hole. “Good girl, take all of it.” 

He grabbed your thighs, forcing your bottom half upwards, cum dripping further down into you, the angle change hammering you right in your most sensitive spot. You cried out as your release hit you like a freight train, muscles melting and becoming liquid, Astarion’s slow deep thrusts prolonging your nirvana. Ripples of adrenaline rushed through you as you felt his release pool in you, knowing undoubtedly that his rough breeding had worked. He decreased his speed until he was at a stop, your legs feeling awfully similar to jelly, as you basked in a combination of afterglow and shock at what had transpired. 

You stayed interlocked and still for a few minutes, your master’s breathing even and heavy, explaining in a whisper that he had to make sure the process was successful. You felt each beat of your heart in your chest, and if you had the privilege of language at the moment, you would have reassured him that your body was most certainly going to house his child. Eventually, he unsheathed himself, letting your hips back down to the four-poster bed, and you watched his statuesque form stand and begin to clean himself. After he had finished, with a smirk he made his way over to you and gently wiped your thighs of his release. 

You could do nothing but watch as he began to dress himself back into the armor he had previously worn, silently wondering if you were going to be let free.

Astarion didn’t even turn around as he spoke to you. “My pet, I think it only fair you remain in this bedroom for as long as it takes to successfully knock you up. I want you nice and helpless against me until I know for certain you’re too dependent on me to go anywhere. Shall we repeat this process…I don’t know…twice a day?”

Twice a day. For as long as it took until he could tell you were pregnant. Verbalizations strained against your gag, but you were completely ignored as Astarion walked out of the room, sealing and locking the door shut behind him.

Pregnancy symptoms could take a hell of a long time to show up. And maybe, even when they did…you could conceal them for a while. 

If it meant being used like this again, you would have done nearly anything. 

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hello my favorite writer!!!

I have a story request.. if you don't want to do it that's okay.. it was a dream a few nights ago and I can't get it out of my head.. but I suck at writing..

Older Eddie.. and younger reader.. like early 40s/mid/late 20s(Again, if it's uncomfortable for you write however you would like..) But reader finds out she is pregnant she is terrified to tell Eddie.. but he's like F. Yeah I still got it or something.. Prompt 33 and 40

Would love NSFW even as like a flashback.. or him being obsessed that she's pregnant.. 😱😅

(Tbh I think I'm just ovulating.. and that man has me absolutely feral haha)

Hello, my lovely! Thank you so much for the request! Tbh I eat this kind of shit up so this was so fun to write!

older!Eddie x fem!reader

cw: reader is 25 and Eddie is 40, mention of pregnancy, hurt/comfort

Prompts used: 33. “Why have you been ignoring me?” and 40. “What’s on your mind?”

This is a continuation of my older!Eddie series!

You stared down at the pregnancy test in your hands, the two pink lines staring back at you. You couldn’t believe it. You were pregnant. You and Eddie hadn’t even been together for very long and you weren’t exactly sure what he was going to say when you told him. If you were going to tell him. You just couldn’t bear to lose him after only having him for a few months.

You figured that you had been pregnant when you missed your period since it always came right on schedule and had been avoiding Eddie ever since. You knew that it wasn’t very nice to do, but you were panicking and that seemed like the only logical option.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you heard your bedroom door open. You quickly hid the test behind your back in a panic, knowing that Eddie would have been able to see it if he looked hard enough.

Eddie entered your bathroom and you tried your best to put on a smile that he quickly saw through. He looked upset, angry even. You supposed it was what you deserved for ghosting him like that. In your head, he had every right to be upset with you.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” He reached for you, resting his hands on your shoulders, giving them a squeeze. God, got missed his touch.

“I haven’t.” Why you thought you could lie to him, you didn’t know. He was always able to find out the truth when you did.

“Lovebug, I live next door. It’s pretty hard to ignore me unless it’s on purpose.” You knew he was right. He always was even if he’d let you be sometimes just to make you feel better.

“I’ve just been busy, Eddie.” That wasn’t technically a lie. Things at your job had been picking up so you had been leaving home earlier and coming back later so Eddie and you had been on completely opposite schedules. But that didn’t stop him from trying to see you.

“Right, busy not wanting to talk to me, hm? What’s on your mind, bug?” His hands rubbed up and down your arms as way to bring you comfort and you felt the test getting heavier in your hands as he tried to get the truth out of you.

“It’s nothing.” You shook your head, but Eddie wasn’t buying it. You were a terrible liar.

“Clearly it’s something if you haven’t wanted to see me. You can tell me anything, you know that, right?” Of course you knew that. Eddie was the person you trusted most so you didn’t know why you were so afraid to tell him the truth.

Trying to keep your secret was weighing on you and the guilt was eating you alive. You let it get the best of you and slammed the pregnancy test down on the counter where Eddie could see it.

“That’s why I’ve been avoiding you. Happy?” You stepped away from him and crossed your arms over your chest.

Eddie pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and took the test, holding it close to his face to see the results. Once he could read it, he let out a gasp and accidentally dropped the thing, letting it clatter to the floor as he took you into his arms.

“Of course I’m happy!” He exclaimed. “You’re pregnant. And I want you to know that whatever you decide to do, I fully support you.”

“I want to keep it. And I want you to help me raise it, but not if you don’t want to.” You didn’t want him to feel obligated even though you really wanted him by your side throughout the child’s life.

You could just picture it; him putting together crib, reading stories to your stomach, holding your hand while you were giving birth, and tears welling up in his eyes as he held the baby for the first time. In your head, that sounded like the perfect life.

“Of course I want to. This is the happiest day of my life, bug.” His eyes were getting misty and you wiped his tears away before your own started rolling down your cheeks.

“It is?” Your face lit up. Your fantasy was actually going to come true.

“Of course it is!” He picked you up and spun you around as giggles escaped your lips. “The woman I love is having a baby.”

“You love me?” You figured as such, but hearing the words was much different than assuming. God, he loved you. You really couldn’t have asked for a more perfect boyfriend.

“Of course I love you, lovey.” He pressed a lingering kiss to your lips.

“I love you too,” you replied, pulling him in for another kiss.

“And I love you,” he rested a hand on your stomach before dropping to his knees. He lifted your shirt and pressed multiple kisses to his as you let out multiple giggles as the feeling of his soft lips tickling your skin.

“C’mon, hon,” he took you by the hand. “Let’s go call Wayne. He’s not going to believe it.” Eddie dragged you into your room and sat on the bed before taking the phone and calling Eddie’s uncle to give him the very good news.

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 19

warnings: mention of fingering, mention of a blowjob, a lot of sex talk in general.

Part 19

Liana fell asleep on his couch. And all Art wanted to do was to lift her up in his arms and carry her to the bedroom. Then he wanted to lock the door until she had no choice but to agree to sleep in his bed. Instead, Art covered her with a blanket and moved her a bit to put a pillow underneath her, which caused her to wake up.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered to himself. "I’ll go home, okay?" she said, smiling, looking at him with a tired expression. "Don't be stupid, I'm supposed to pick you up in the morning anyway. There’s a guest room here with your name on the door," he smiled. He hated that damn guest room. Her name was supposed to be on his bedroom door.

"I don't want to stay longer than I'm welcome," she sat up. Art looked at her as if she had fallen from the moon. He wanted to shake her, to check if she had accidentally lost the remnants of her brain. "Liana, I swear I’ll carry you to that room myself if you don't move your ass," he said, trying to feign indifference in his voice. In response, Liana simply stood up and raised her hands in surrender.

Three months had passed since Liana and Patrick broke up. Four if counting since Atlanta. Art still hadn't touched her, and he was very close to breaking. And what’s really difficult in this whole situation is the fact that Art knows she is also close to breaking.

He sees it in the way she behaves around him. How she can talk and suddenly touch his shoulder. Or run her fingers through his curls. The first time she did that, they were watching a movie and his head was on her shoulder (completely natural, not strange at all when the couch is so big), and then her hand started playing with his curls, and if Liana had looked at him, she would have seen him close his eyes, and the movie no longer interested him at all. Art could have started crying at that moment. He didn't think he would ever feel her fingers in his hair again. He didn't think his head would be so close to her. He didn't think she would touch him again.

Liana lay in the bed in the guest room and couldn't fall asleep. She knows she's playing with fire, and yet, she decides to hold a lighter in her hand. The main problem with knowing that Art Donaldson wants her is the realization that landed on her two months ago—most of the time, she is... well, horny.

Coming out of a relationship with a man like Patrick Zweig comes with dead time on the schedule that was devoted only to sex. Missionary sex, sex when she sat on his lap, sex from the side, doggy-style sex—God, how she loves doggy-style sex. And she can go on for a good few minutes describing all the positions in which Patrick fucked her for-4-years non-stop. And most of the time when she thinks about it, her hand finds itself between her thighs.

And lately, she spends so much time with Art that in her mind it no longer matters. Her dreams are mixing; Sometimes Patrick fucks her, and sometimes it’s Art. Sometimes Art tells her she’s a good girl, and sometimes Patrick tells her she needs to prove to him that she’s a good girl. Sometimes it’s Tom Cruise.

A few days ago, she looked at her colleague at work, a 57-year-old man, almost bald (the keyword here is 'almost'), and wondered what size his dick was. She’s not in a good state. She has to stop hanging around with Art, but he’s been glued to her thigh for a few months now. Although at this stage, maybe she’s glued to his thigh?

It's too confusing.

He looks good, Art Donaldson. He looks too good. The worst part is that he knows he looks good. And he’s winning his stupid game with the ball and a racket, and his smug face is plastered on a billboard across from her office. How is Liana supposed to concentrate on anything other than the fact that if she closes her eyes tightly enough, she can remember the taste of his dick and how it tickled the back of her throat?!

She’s lying in the guest room bed, and he’s lying in his bed, and she wonders if his hand is gripping his dick and he’s thinking about her. She wonders if he wants her help because she can help him. She can knock on the door and ask him if he needs help and how can she assist him.

But she won’t do that because Art Donaldson comes with baggage. He comes with hurtful words and a friendship that has already been ruined once, and neither of them can afford to ruin it again. Not because of horniness. It's not even a feeling. It’s just the need for someone to do what they want with her.

Liana went down to the kitchen to get a glass of very needed cold water, and Art was there for the same purpose. His cheeks were flushed while he looked at her. He had just finished jerking off and needed a moment to compose himself. “Didn't I put you to bed an hour ago?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, unable to ignore the fact that her nipples were hard. He had to divert his gaze from her chest. Now.

“Maybe you didn't put me in the right bed,” she mumbled while pouring herself some water, not looking at him. “Sorry?” Art really thought he hadn't heard right. “Not used to your fancy mattress, Donaldson; you should have forced me to stay on the couch,” she retracted in the most sophisticated way she could manage, afraid to cross that line.

“We have a five-and-a-half-hour drive tomorrow, Lia, go to sleep,” he swallowed hard and went up to his room with the glass of water, passing her and letting his shoulder brush against hers. Art is pretty sure that if he looks at her like that for another second, he won’t be able to control himself.

"I'm just saying, if there's an option for me not to sit next to her, I'd prefer not to sit next to Tashi." "It will be the best place, Li," Art sighed. He knows what it means for her to come to his game when Tashi is sitting in the coach's seat. He knows it takes extra mental strength from her. "I don't care where I sit, Art. I'm only looking at you anyway," she rolled her eyes, causing him to look at her with a raised eyebrow. Does she really not understand what she's saying? "Only at me?" He sounded amused. "Oh, fuck off. You know what I mean. I could really not give a shit about the tennis, I came because you asked me to," she shrugged as if it were obvious while he took his bag out of the trunk.

Art couldn't stop himself, he had to drop what he was holding and hug her. It wasn't up to him in any way. It was a higher power intervening. "I’d like to breathe again, Arthur, you're choking me," she rolled her eyes and giggled. "You know I appreciate you being here, right?" he asked as he let go of her. "Yes, I know," she smiled.

They started walking through the parking lot, and Liana suddenly stopped while Art, confused, looked to see where her gaze was directed. She was looking at a particular car and walked towards it with small steps. Art quickly realized what was happening. You don't have to be a genius—the only person whose car she could recognize was Patrick Zweig’s. He was lying in the back seat, scrolling through his phone, not noticing they were approaching until Liana (shocked) knocked on his car window, causing him to jump. Art rolled his eyes.

Patrick was in shock. He looked from Liana to Art and then from Art to Liana. This wasn't how he wanted to see her again. He wanted to see her again when his shit was in order. When he had figured out life. When his tennis was focused. When he was Patrick fucking Zweig and that meant something. Not when he sometimes slept in his car.

He got out of the car slowly, wanting to die a quick death, but even that, God denied him. "Can you give us a moment?" she asked Art in her softest voice. He hated that pitying tone. He hated Art, and he hated her. "We're going to be late for check-in," he mumbled with his hand on his neck. That anxious fuck. "Four minutes, Art," she replied, leaving no room for debate. "Yeah, four minutes, Art," he couldn't stop himself from saying with a smirk on his face. "Shut the fuck up, Patrick," Liana and Art said together. In the same unamused tone. Interesting what else they do together to be so synchronized. "Four minutes, Liana," Art said and walked away, giving them privacy.

"How are you?" Liana asked, examining him. "This is a peak moment in my life, Liana, I'm really enjoying myself," he replied sarcastically. "Do you want something?" he added. "Do you sleep a lot in your car?" she asked, folding her arms under her chest, and he really wanted to tell her to go fuck herself (not Art) and go find someone else to build her self-esteem. She kicked him out of the house. Who is she to judge where he sleeps?

"You know what, Liana?" he started. "Think twice before you finish that sentence, Patrick," she recognized the tone. A tone looking for a fight. A tone that sees nothing but Patrick's need to argue. "Why, only you can ask questions that are non-of your business? Here's a question, does he fuck you?" he asked. And maybe it was a jab, but he really wanted to know, and he knew she wouldn't answer him, so he allowed himself to piss her off.

"You know what?" she sighed. "Yes, Patrick. He's been fucking me so much in the past few months that sometimes I can't walk. Who knew Art Donaldson knew how to do so many things to a girl's ass," she said, adding a smile. One that he couldn't understand if it was real or cynical. But Liana knew Patrick's love for her ass and used every bit of knowledge she had to continue torturing him.

"Good luck in the tournament. I hope you earn enough money for a hotel room, Pat," she concluded with an eye roll and walked away. Liana really wanted to ask how he was, but he was still incorrigible, and she still couldn't avoid falling into the petty arguments he started and neither of them knew how to finish.

"Are you okay?" Art looked at her as they walked together. "Ask me again in forty minutes."

"I swear I booked a room with two beds," Art said to Liana as they stared at the massive bed in the middle of the room they were staying in. They asked to switch rooms at the front desk, but it was impossible. There were no more rooms with separate beds. Why would there be? The hotel was packed with athletes and their coaches.

Art knew Tashi was behind this. He had no way to prove it, but he knew she had a hand in the fact that he and Liana would have to share a bed this weekend. On one hand, he wanted to strangle her. On the other hand, he wanted to thank her. He’d see how the situation developed and decide accordingly.

"We’re adults," Liana said, not taking her eyes off the bed. "We can share a bed, right, Art?" She added a question at the end, looking at him and raising an eyebrow. ‘Of course not,’ Art wanted to scream. ‘I can barely share a couch with you.’ "Of course, adults who can share a bed," he parroted her words, looking at her for another moment. God help him.

"Is this your doing?" he asked Tashi at the end of practice. "What?" she replied with a feigned innocence he recognized as fake. "I asked you to stop interfering. If she finds out you’re behind this, she’ll strangle you in your sleep," Art declared. He was sure of it. He was sure Liana would go to jail for Tashi Duncan’s murder. "Why would she find out something that can’t be proven? Say ‘thank you’ nicely to your coach and try to sleep at least four hours tonight, Art," she winked (shamelessly, it should be noted) and walked away, leaving Art alone with his thoughts.

When he entered the room, Liana was there. Fresh from the shower. She was sitting on the bed, fiddling with her laptop. She greeted him without looking at him too much as he headed for the shower. He considered jerking off in the shower but was afraid she might hear him, so he gave up.

Art was an adult. He could sleep next to Liana without being tempted to touch her. He wasn’t an animal. He could handle it.

"I have a question. You can totally tell me to fuck off and we’ll never talk about it again," she said as he came out of the shower shirtless and looked at her questioningly. "Talk to me, Lia," he nodded, examining her and seeing how tense she was.

Liana paced the room a bit neurotically, her leg twitching slightly, and her hand brushing her nose. "Liana, you’re giving me a headache. Just say what you want to say," he tried to remain indifferent, but he felt his heart start to race, not knowing why.

"Do you think we could be the kind of people who fuck without commitment?" She barely took a breath between words and looked at him, biting her lip.

All Art could think was; Bingo.

And then; Of course not.

Hey thereeeee, It took me a second to write. Hope you are still here and reading. Love hearing from you guys, so you're welcome to tell me what you think, as always

taglist: @soberbabes @nina357 @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[delfiore]

—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (2/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: you and ona become much closer, but in the wrong way; an offer on the horizon threatens to tear you apart.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: description of collision in football

PART I, PART III, PART IV, PART V

Sports Illustrated: USWNT International Y/N Y/L/N Scores in First Game Back From Injury “Y/N Y/L/N will not stop scoring. The Man City star returns to action with a stunning header in a home game against Everton since picking up an injury this summer in the CONCACAF final against Canada. Though the U.S. emerged victorious thanks to Alex Morgan’s penalty kick, Y/L/N was forced off in the 68th minute with a torn hamstring. She was expected to be sidelined for 3 months. […]”

You skimmed through the article, waiting for your coffee to brew. It has been an arduous few months as you focused on rehabilitation. You were supposed to be match-fit at the start of the season, but the physios determined you needed at least a few more weeks before you could play. Your thigh still felt a bit tight every time you stretched them. Nonetheless, you were back to playing, that was all that mattered.

It was early November, and the winds were picking up in Manchester, and yet you were warm.

“Morning,” you said, smiling at the figure waddling into the living room.

Bratwurst was wagging his tail by her side, no doubt looking for more food as if you hadn’t fed him half an hour ago.

“Good morning,” Ona said, rubbing her eyes.

“Coffee?” You nodded towards the machine.

“No, I have to get to training. Thanks, though.”

“In my shirt?” You smirked at looked down at her top. Sure enough, it was the old T-shirt you lent her after you were done last night.

“Hah hah.” She mocked you, but then took off the shirt, leaving her top half completely bare, and threw it at your face. “Obviously not.”

You let your eyes travel freely, as she went back into your room and returned wearing the clothes she came in last night.

“Looks like you’re back to being your insufferable self.” She walked to where you sat, putting on her necklace. “Can’t even go on social media without seeing people praising your goal.”

“All in a day’s work,” you said, grinning.

Ona rolled her eyes and put on her shoes. “I’m glad you’re back, but I won’t go easy on you.”

You stood up and pecked her lips.

“I never asked you to,” you leaned closer, ducking your face into her neck. “Maybe when we’re alone.”

She snickered quietly and patted your cheek. “Try not to miss me too much. Bye-bye, Bratwurst.”

The pup sat by the door as he watched her close it behind her. Ever since she started spending time at your apartment, it felt like he liked her more, always following her around and snuggling with her as she gave him pets.

Ona had been coming over since the kiss at the end of last season with the premise of meaningless sex. You both had an arrangement, and you were committed to keeping to it. You were surprised when she suggested it, thinking her not to be the type, but Ona continues to surprise you.

You had only meant to meet up over dinner to talk about what happened, but the night ended with her hands tangled in your hair and your legs tangled in her sheets. The ups and downs these past few months never deterred you from seeing each other. In fact, Spain losing out in the Euros prompted her to come over and forget about it for a night. In a way, you both had each other.

Your teammates at Man City were especially amused whenever you’d forget to cover up and come to practice with marks on your neck.

“Who’s the unlucky gal this time, Y/N?”

“Have you been busy while you were injured?”

Every time, you would just shake your head with a grin because you’d never kiss and tell. Also, because Leila and Laia would flip out if they knew you’d been screwing their teammate on the national team.

Your arrangement worked for a while, both of you still too young and too committed to football to think about anything else. While a lot of your colleagues would disagree, it was the excuse you told yourself to fully admit that what you felt for Ona was beyond just carnal desires.

You were treading on dangerous waters, your feelings bubbling to the surface every time you saw the girl. It was much more challenging to keep them under wraps, especially when you had to play against her every couple of months. From what people knew about you two, you were rivals, and that was your relationship. Rumors of a romance surfaced too, amongst younger fans, but it was the result of baseless shipping. If only they knew.

Ona wasn’t an incredibly affectionate person, not by a mile. The only times you would catch her lowering her guard by the tiniest of margins were when she was tired, maybe then she’d let you cuddle her after sex. But you remembered when Spain was knocked out of the Euros way too soon, and she was crying on the phone to you. You had just won the CONCACAF with the US across the Atlantic, and yet all you wanted was to hold her.

And so that was what you did. Two days later, after you were dismissed from your international duties, you flew back to Manchester and waited for her. Ona liked to be the little spoon whenever she was sad, and you were very happy to oblige. If she was feeling generous, she would even thank you for it. As much as you wanted to, you never teased her about it, because you knew what you had was fragile, and a slight mention of it could topple everything to the ground.

That was how it was with your Spanish beauty.

“Wooooooow . . . You’ve got a handful,” said your teammate, Chloe, as she stood in your kitchen, eating your chips.

“Yup,” you pressed your lips thinly, grabbing some seasoning from the cupboard. “That’s my life right now.”

You proceeded to tell Chloe everything one day, omitting a few saucy details, of course.

“Have you tried talking to her about it?”

“That’s the thing, though. There’s nothing to talk about. I can’t just walk up to her and demand something that wasn’t part of the arrangement to begin with.”

“I know, but it’s clearly affecting you. You like her, don’t you?”

“No.” A few seconds of silence followed, and Chloe was looking at you with a glare. “Okay, I think she’s cute, like, really cute.”

“I think you should talk to her, Y/N,” Chloe said. “Worst case scenario, you lot stop whatever you’re doing with each other behind all of our backs. Best case scenario, you date her.”

You smirked, but nothing no usual quippy or smug remark came out. “I should try,” you spoke quietly.

Chloe nodded expectantly and continued eating her chips, now. “I can’t believe it. You tricked all of us! It was Batlle all this time!”

“I didn’t think you’d come tonight,” you whispered quietly into the room, sitting by the edge of your bed.

Ona was under the covers, on her phone. “Why? ‘Cause we played against each other?”

You nodded bashfully.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she set her phone down. “Or did you not want me to come?”

“It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?” You said, gesturing at the clothes strewn on the floor.

You let her study you for a moment, finding the ruffled sheets much more interesting instead.

“What’s wrong?” She said.

“Nothing.”

“You’re too quiet.” Her voice was low and calming. She reached out and caressed your hand. You wanted to bury your face in her neck and be done with the conversation instead.

“I was just wondering . . . would you like to come over a bit earlier from now on?”

Your question made her look at you with a puzzled expression. “Have I been staying too late?”

“No, no. I mean—you can stay as late as you want, but come a bit earlier. I can cook for us, and then we can just sit and . . . talk.”

You fumbled with your fingers, your eyes drifting up to her, seeing the realization dawn on her. She exhaled. “Okay, that sounds nice . . . but as friends, right?”

“Um . . . no?”

“Y/N,” Ona breathed. Her silence was killing you. Finally, she looked up. “That wasn’t our arrangement, and I’d like for it to stay as we’ve agreed. You’re okay with that, right?”

“Yeah,” you lied, caressing her arm and flashing a smile. “It’s for the best.”

She nodded but watched you closely. “Come here,” she whispered.

You obliged, letting her pull you into her embrace. A searing kiss followed, leaving you to straddle her bare waist.

A short gasp left your lips. “Fuck me, Ona.” You pleaded quietly, hoping she’d fuck you until you forget the conversation ever happened. But you also hoped she’d go slow and make love to you, proving that she’d finally reciprocated your feelings.

You’ve decided that you wanted both. Maybe then, you’d finally get what you wanted.

You didn’t know that Ona was scared to let you in too, so she settled for sleeping with you.

You had been an obsession of hers for three years, a game she played besides having to focus on the actual game she was paid to play. But now, here she was—sleeping with someone who could possibly be her mortal enemy. She didn’t know when, but suddenly, she couldn’t bring herself to see you harmed.

She wanted you, but that was the selfish part of her speaking.

In the morning, you had expected her to be there, but your bedside was empty.

Ona moved through her days like a ghost. She didn’t expect it to be this hard three years ago when she first set foot in Manchester. She didn’t expect a forward to make her life this hard, or that she would fall in love with you. Every minute she spent tangled up in bed with you were minutes where nothing else outside that bedroom mattered, and it scared her.

It scared her that only you could make her feel that way, that something she had spent so hard working towards for herself, you did so easily for her.

She thinks of the nights after the Euros when she practically stayed over all day, and how you took care of her. She thinks of the cheeky winks you would send her way whenever she played against you, and the not-so-innocent brushes that you sneak in whenever she defended you. She think of your face when she shut you down, and how quickly your walls came back up.

She thinks of you the entire time she was on the Zoom call with her agent.

“You need to decide soon, Ona,” her agent had told her. “Barcelona doesn’t wait for anyone.”

It was a no-brainer, but she thinks of you all the time.

The referee blew the whistle and the 90 minutes were over. You collapsed on your knees as the Etihad erupted into cheers. Man City had reached the semifinals of the Women’s Champions League for the first time ever in the history of the women’s club. You would be playing Wolfsburg next, but you couldn’t care less about that right then. You just wanted to celebrate with your teammates.

You wished that you could celebrate with Ona too.

You sent her a text much later in the night, but she didn’t respond. Thinking it to be too late for her to come over, you went to bed, soaking in your victory.

But then, she didn’t respond the next day, then the day after that. A week later, she still hadn’t responded. Then the first leg of the semifinal came, and City drew 2-2 to Wolfsburg. You had given her space to deal with whatever she didn’t want you to know and knew double-texting made you look desperate, but you have had enough of the silence.

A vote of confidence would have been nice Sent 4:29pm

Nothing.

You weren’t going to put your life on hold for her. You wouldn’t give her that satisfaction.

The week of the return leg, you had almost forgotten all about Ona from the amount of training you were doing.

“Okay, ladies. Gather around,” said Chris, the assistant coach. “This will be our last practice session before the Champions League game. We’re gonna do some passing to start with, then a set-piece practice, and we’ll close off with a 5v5 scrimmage. That sound good?”

You were starting to feel more confident than jittery. Your movements were sure and steady, so were your finishes. Big games never deterred you, but it was the added fact of Ona not responding to your text that caused you to check your phone every time you were able to.

“No phones, Y/N,” Chris said, and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, Coach. Just checking news from family,” you lied. He extended his hand anyway, and you begrudgingly handed your phone over.

“I can’t have you distracted, Y/N. The match is tomorrow.”

“I know, I know. I’ve been good, though, haven’t I?” You grinned, taking a swig of water.

Practice ended later than scheduled, but you didn’t mind. You needed the extra preparation, and you were glad to have done that with your teammates. Chris finally gave you your phone back, like a naughty student, and you quickly checked your messages. Still nothing. It wasn’t like this was the biggest game of your life or anything.

Going to the news, flipping through articles upon articles on politics, your eyes landed on one about sports.

The Busby Babe: Ona Batlle Set For Barcelona Return “Manchester United and Spain star right back Ona Batlle is reportedly on the verge of completing a move back to Catalonia, rejoining Barcelona Femeni at the end of her contract with the Red Devils. […]”

The match of your life started. You were on the left wing as you always were, playing inverted so Laia would be running the flank. You scored one, but Wolfsburg got one back towards the end of the first half.

“Make those runs, ladies. If you see them coming at you, call out to your teammates. Use the third man to break free of the defense.” Gareth pointed at the board, showing hypothetical scenarios that the team could exploit for an opening.

“Hey,” Chloe sat next to you, her forehead glistening. “You alright?”

You uttered a small ‘yeah’ and closed your hand over her sweat-clad one over your knee. You couldn’t be distracted. You owed it to Chloe and everyone else on this team.

You were slamming your fist on the door, but you didn’t care. Your jaw clenched as you swayed on your feet waiting for her to open up.

“What the fuck, Y/N?!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You stepped into her apartment.

Her face went pale. “How did you know?”

You let out a laugh. “You’re pathetic. You’re a coward for not even saying a single word.”

The ball was sent over long from deep aiming towards you. You called for Filippa for a one-two, but once you dribbled, you were tackled inside the box. You put your hand up at the referee but huffed in disbelief when she only shook her head and granted a corner.

Slapping your hand on the grass, you sprung up with a grunt. It must have looked like you were throwing a tantrum, but you couldn’t care less, you wanted to win.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“So you were just not gonna say anything at all?! You owe me that much to—”

“I don’t owe you anything, Y/N.” She snapped. She had never snapped at you before, not while off the pitch. “You know what we have is just sex. That’s all we ever had and that’s all we will ever have.”

Tears formed in your eyes. You felt like a kid again, being scolded and taken for granted. “Please, don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but this isn’t some fantasyland,” Ona said firmly. “I told you what I wanted, and I thought you agreed.”

There was a period of struggle over the ball soon after, mostly in midfield. You were growing increasingly frustrated as passes continued being cut off just before they reached the attacking third.

“Come on, guys! Let’s finish this!” You called out to your teammates in an attempt to hype them up before a throw-in.

Your irritation mounted, but you told yourself to quickly snap out of it. I need to stay calm, my team needs me. It proved quite difficult when Lena Oberdorf slithered up from behind to mark you. She dug an elbow into your back to keep you at bay, and when you moved, she moved. So you pushed back, much harder than you anticipated. It set her off. Good, stay off me.

Soon, you heard the ref’s hurried whistle, as Lena shoved you back. “The fuck are you pushing for?!” Your opponent seethed, getting all up in your face to challenge you.

You were feeling bold, so you smirked at her. “Come closer, see what I’ll do. Or do you just want a piece of this, huh?”

It wasn’t your best quality, you admitted it, but you liked it when you set off an opponent. You didn’t care when Lena was hurling insults at you in German as she was being led away. What mattered was that you had gotten in her head, and it would be much easier to break her defense from now on. The referee blew her whistle again, and a few teammates of yours attempted to separate you from Lena.

“Sei ruhig, Mann. Bleib’ da drüben.” Be quiet, man. Stay over there. Waving at her dismissively, you saw the way her eyes looked like they would pop out of her sockets in fury, knowing she didn’t expect you to know German. You couldn’t help but feel a sick sense of satisfaction.

“Last warning, Y/L/N.” The referee warned before continuing the match.

There would always be one player that completely drove the opposition crazy, and you would gladly be that asshole, so your teammates wouldn’t have to. You wanted to win.

“You kissed me first. I thought . . .”

“Please, don’t make this any harder than it already is,” Ona said quietly.

“I thought we had something, Ona,” you tried to steady your voice. You knew you sounded pathetic, but you never believed Ona could betray you in such a way.

She only pressed her lips thin. “We don’t. The only thing we have is our arrangement and however you feel about me on the pitch.”

Bunny scored in the 75th minute, and that would be the last goal for City in this match. The game went to extra time, and you could feel your teammates getting tired and sloppy in possession. You were tired too, but you wanted to keep fighting, anything to keep the thought of Ona out of your head.

You were so focused on the ball that you didn’t see a defender coming up beside you, her body colliding with yours in an attempt to redirect the ball. You fell to the ground with a thud, the stinging impact beginning to spread across your back. You felt the wind getting knocked out of you, your vision beginning to fade until all you could see were the lights atop the stadium, until those faded too.

The next thing you knew, you were on your side. Then the uncomfortable pain in your gut started to become more apparent, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore. You gasped for air, just as a couple of your teammates knelt beside you.

“Y/N, can you hear me? Medic!” You heard a voice almost like Demi’s call out.

You didn’t know who knocked into you, you didn’t care anymore, because you had the overwhelming urge to throw up whilst still struggling to breathe.

“Can’t . . . breathe,” you wheezed out, tears starting to fill your eyes. You wanted to go home.

One of the medics shone a flashlight in your eyes. “Pupils are PEARL,” she said. “Okay, I need you to try and take deep breaths for me, alright, darling?”

You drew a shaky breath. There was a wheezing noise, in and out. In and out. The more you did, the easier it got. Your head was dizzy when you stood up, just as you heard applause ringing throughout the stadium.

Chloe appeared in front of you and offered her arm while a medic took your other as you walked toward the sideline.

“You’re alright, love,” she flashed you a warm smile and wiped away the stray tear that lingered on your cheek.

It was much too unfortunate, because you still had a lot more to give, but you were done for the night. Gareth knew it too, so he sent Hempo in to take your place.

You finally let the tears fall freely when the final whistle came.

“When do you leave?”

“In two weeks.”

A scornful laugh escaped you that you didn’t even bother to hide. “You didn’t even have the decency to tell me, not as your booty call, but as your friend.”

But you were kidding yourself. You knew Ona and you were never friends, never quite lovers either. Only two people floating around in a sexual limbo who were too scared to admit to themselves what was right in front of them. Now she was leaving, and you would never get the chance.

It didn’t matter anymore, any of it. You had a Champions League semifinal to play.

ESPN: Wolfsburg Grabs Victory in Extra Time to Reach Women’s Champions League Final “[…]”

a/n: it was so heartwarming to see the support for jenni and the players :’) it’s abt fuckin time man let’s hope this continues until rubiales and vilda’s resignation