#but apparently kissing is where my brain draws the line

[ourstochoose9]

"Write the story you want to read" is all well and good until you realize that you have no idea how to write people in romantic relationships

[cevansbrat0007]

Guessing Games: A Fast Car Interlude

Summary: You accidentally trigger Ari's jealous streak. Takes place directly after the events in Guessing Games.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Implied Future Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Jealous!Ari, Innocent Flirting, Stupid Men, Manhandling, Mentions of Spanking, Discussions of Self-Image, Mentions of Lingerie, Semi-Public Sex, Allusions to Fingering, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: After a shitty week, please enjoy this completely self-indulgent fic. Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“Hey. I know this car.” You think as you come to stand in front of a vehicle on display that happens to look strangely familiar. Smoothing your hands down the skirt of your sundress, you manage a quick side-step, narrowly avoiding a collision with a small child who was too busy enjoying his ice cream cone to pay attention to where he was going. 

You’ve been wandering around Fulton County’s annual Classic Car Showcase for the better part of an hour now, and so far things were going better than you’d expected. And not only that, but you were even beginning to have fun.

“I can see why this one caught your eye.” A familiar voice muses as he comes up behind you. 

“I’m trying to figure out where I’ve seen it before. But I’m drawing a blank.” Angling your body, you reach for one of Ari’s big hands, grasping it with both of yours. “Any ideas?” 

“You really don’t recognize it?” 

“‘Fraid not.” Your lips purse as you continue to wrack your brain. 

“It’s an exact replica of The General Lee, the 1969 Dodge Charger driven by Bo and Luke.” 

“Who?” You stare up at him confused. 

That earns you a chuckle, followed by him placing a gentle kiss atop your head. “Bo and Luke. From The Dukes of Hazzard. It was a popular show back in the eighties.” He explains, brushing a stray curl away from your face.

“Oh. Got it.” You nod, pretending to understand. “Mystery solved.”

You both stand there a few moments longer – mostly so he can admire the engine, or whatever the hell you assumed he was doing. Once he’s looked his fill, it’s apparently time to move on to the next car that catches his interest. You’re seemingly content to trail behind him until you happen to spot a nearby cluster of tents. 

“Ari?” 

“Yeah, little Bird?” The rich timbre of his voice has you smiling before you even realize you’re doing it.

“I reckon all this car hoppin’ has me feelin’ a little parched.” You tell him, turning your attention to the concessions located just across the lot. “I’m gonna go fetch myself a lemonade real quick while the lines are short.”

As expected, your man responds without missing a beat. But not before leading you over to the shade so that you can continue your conversation. Which was a good thing seeing as the temperature outside was hovering around the mid-eighties.

“Well, we can’t have that now can we?” Mirroring your smile, he brings your hand to his lips so that he can kiss the ridges of your knuckles. “Let’s go get you somethin’ to drink.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll go while you hang out here in the shade.” Your palms come up to rest against the hard wall of his chest. “Besides,” you continue when he opens his mouth to object. “It’s not like I’m going far. I’ll just  be right over there.”  

“Nah.” Ari swiftly disagrees, adjusting his sunglasses. “How about you wait here while I go get us both something to drink?”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yep.” He gently flicks the tip of your nose. “After all, what kinda man would I be if I left my sweetheart out here to melt?”

“I mean…if you insist.” Rising on your toes – a feat made easier thanks to your wedge heels – you plant a smooch on his bearded cheek. “Hurry back, sugar.” 

Now that he’s officially a man on a mission, Ari wastes almost no time making a beeline for the concessions. But not before issuing a stern warning to you, his curious little Bird.

“Don’t you go wanderin’ off on me, darlin’.” He growls, leaning down to tenderly peck your lips . “I expect to find you right here in this spot when I come back.” 

And then he’s gone. You barely have time to respond with a playful salute before he’s striding off in search of sustenance for you both. Leaving you alone to twiddle your thumbs while you dutifully await his return. 

Not that you minded. If anything, grateful for this brief respite from the heat. It never crosses your mind to abandon your spot in favor of looking at more cars. At least, not until you spy one that has you gasping in pure delight.

“Woah.” You breathe as you come to stand in front of the one vehicle with the power to transport you straight back to your childhood: a 1958 Plymouth Fury.  

Better known as the car from Stephen King’s novel, Christine. 

You’d absolutely loved this movie as a kid. So much so that your Uncle had bought you your own personal copy after he got tired of renting it for you weekend after weekend. Why, you must’ve seen it over a hundred times. 

But as luck would have it, your private glee is interrupted by the sound of a voice coming up behind you. 

“She’s a beaut, ain’t she?” The man asks, his southern drawl growing even more inviting when he tips his black stetson. “Restored her myself.” 

“Holy crap! It looks just like the one from the film.” You chirp, reaching out to run your fingers along the shiny finish before swiftly thinking better of it. “Sorry.” Is all you can manage as you turn to face him. “I just…never thought I’d get the chance to see it in person.”

“Well…” The dark haired cowboy admits, flashing a chagrined smile. “It’s not actually the car. But it’s pretty dang close. Took me a few years, seeing that pretty smile of yours makes it all worth it.” His smile only grows wider as he holds out his hand to you. “The name’s Russell, by the way.”

You two spend a few more moments exchanging names and pleasantries before he politely redirects the attention back to the prized vehicle in front of you. Russell invites you to ask all the questions you like, only to laugh when you eagerly take him up on his offer. 

In fact, you’re enjoying the conversation so much that you hardly notice when he slowly begins inching closer to you, his leanly muscled frame almost boxing you in. He was charming – you’d give him that much. And easy on the eyes.

Russell was the type of man who warranted a second look. Or at least he would. That is, assuming you hadn’t already been blessed with the gift of Ari Daniel Levinson. 

“You know,” He murmurs, his cool gaze warming as he boldly peruses your dress. “Something tells me this conversation would pair wonderfully with a glass of wine.” His hand reaches for yours once more. “Perhaps over dinner?”

“Oh, I’m sorry...” The shocked apology comes tumbling out of your mouth. “I–I can’t. I actually came with someone. He’s–”

“Look, I don’t wanna be too forward.” Russell smoothly interrupts, stroking his thumb along the ridge of your knuckles. “But I haven’t been able to let you out of my sight since I saw you damn near an hour ago. Honestly can’t remember the last time I came across a woman as sweet as you.”

“That’s awfully kind of you to say.” You reply, intending to let him down easy.

“I saw that fella you were with.” He continues in earnest, still refusing to relinquish his grip on your hand. “Also saw him walk off and abandon you too.” 

“He didn’t – no one abandoned anybody!” Closing your eyes, you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation. You weren’t used to men hitting on you like this. It has you feeling way out of your depth. 

“Be that as it may, I also believe in fate.” His already gravelly voice dips an octave. “I mean, I’ve come to this showcase year after year and never once have I met someone like you.” 

“I…I’m not sure I’d go that far.” You hedge as you weigh your options. 

On one hand, you really did want to be polite. But you also needed to be firm. You already had a man in your life. A man who owned you – mind, body, and soul. Not that you’d had any say in the matter. But these days, you were well past complaining about the handsome Beast of a man you’d come to cherish.

“Think about it.” Your would-be suitor implores, giving you a gentle squeeze. “There has to be a reason our paths crossed today.” 

Alright. It was officially time to put a nail in this coffin. You open your mouth to respond, only to have someone else beat you to the punch. 

“I think it’s about time you let go of her hand.” Ari rumbles, the sound coming from somewhere deep in his chest. “Now.”

“Something I can help you with, buddy?” Russell responds without hesitation, clearly annoyed by the other man’s sudden reappearance. “Because the lady and I were in the middle of a conversation.”

“And I’m sure it was a great one.” Your bounty hunter is too busy glaring at his apparent rival to pay you any real mind. Although, he’s quick to shove a cup of what you suspect to be lemonade into your palm the second Russell releases his hold. “Too bad it’s over now. Let’s go, sweet Bird.” 

The ice in his tone is enough to make you shiver. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Ari was none too happy to find you entertaining the company of another man. But the last thing you’d expected was for him to be jealous. 

Unless you were reading things wrong. 

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to wait, fella.” Russell surprises everyone by coming to stand almost nose-to-nose with Ari. “Because she and I were about to take the ride out for a little spin.” 

“We most certainly were not.” You try, impatiently tugging on his arm. “Ari, let’s just go.” Although, you’re not surprised when you end up being completely ignored. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Guess that’s what happens when you abandon a pretty little flower like her all alone in an empty field.” Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Russelly makes a point of poking your man in his chest. “I’m just glad I was lucky enough to be here to catch your mistake.”

Worry fills you when you see Ari simply nod along, his brawny shoulders wrought with tension. Sucking on his teeth, the bounty hunter briefly looks away as he forces himself to take a calming breath. Not that it seems to help any. 

“You know what? I get it. No, really–I do.” Ari smirks, reaching up to lightly scratch at his jaw. “I knew what I was getting into, walking into a showcase like this with a beautiful woman on my arm, wearin’ the hell out of that dress.” One thick arm wraps itself around your waist, hauling you close. “My girl turns heads everywhere she goes. She’s just too sweet to realize it.”

Tucking you behind him, your man bridges the last bit of distance between himself and Russell. And while you can’t see his face, you’re shocked when he gently lifts his rival’s hat from his head, before tossing it in the direction of his forgotten plymouth. 

“And sometimes that sweetness makes cowboys do stupid fuckin’ things.” Ari continues, sounding almost smug. But you don��t miss the danger in his tone. “Which is why I’m gonna be the bigger man right now and walk away, before I give into the urge to find out if you have what it takes to make the long drive home with a fractured arm.”

“Alright, that’s enough from you two.” You snap, finally fed up with all this male posturing. After all this nonsense, you just wanted to sit down and enjoy your drink before all the ice melted. “Russell, cool car. But I’m not interested, okay? And as for you, Ari…”

In lieu of responding, your man chooses to quirk one impatient, tawny brow. 

“You’re looking a little flushed. I think it’s time we got you outta the sun.” Grabbing his wrist, you proceed to physically drag him away from the scene. It takes virtually all your might, but you’re grateful when his legs finally begin to move.

You don’t stop walking until you reach a set of picnic tables that are far enough away from the show to give you both some much needed privacy while you hashed things out. 

“Darlin’, I can tell by your face you’re fixin’ to yell.” Ari growls, yanking his arm out of your grasp. "And I'd like to make my case before you start." His frown only deepens as he watches you perch on the edge of a bench, but not before taking a dramatic sip of your ice cold lemonade. 

It tastes divine – the perfect treat for a hot summer’s day.

“Did you really have to throw the poor man’s hat?” You ask, fanning yourself.

“Probably not. But it felt good.” He shrugs, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Should’ve stuffed his ass in the goddamned trunk while I was at it.” 

“I don’t know what you think you saw, but I was in the process of letting him down easy.”

“Could’ve sworn I told your bratty self to stay put where I fuckin’ left you.” His normally clear blue eyes glitter dangerously, letting you know that he’s pissed. “I mean, it was bad enough waitin’ in line listening to two idiots talk about which one of ‘em was gonna be brave enough to ask for your number…”

“Yeah right.” You scoff, looking up at the sky as you pray for patience.

“Roll ‘em at me one more time, baby. Swear to God.” Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, he finds himself wondering for the umpteenth time just what the hell he’d been thinking bringing you to something like this with you wearing a dress like that. “I’m just itchin’ for a reason to lift that skirt and redden your disrespectful ass.”

In Ari’s mind, you were always the prettiest girl in the room. But on a day like today? You were downright irresistible. And what made it even worse is that you honestly had no idea the effect you had sometimes – on him and damn near every other man who came into your presence.  

“You can’t talk like that!” You hiss, hoping that you weren’t being overheard. 

“And just why the hell not?”

“Because we’re in public, you Beast!” 

Rising to your feet, you set your drink on the table, deciding it might be better if you put some distance between you. Too bad Ari chooses to follow, walking you backwards until you feel yourself collide with the base of a nearby tree. His hands come to rest on either side of your head, effectively caging you in with his much larger frame.  

“I should’ve known what I was getting into the moment I decided to let you walk outta the house wearing that dress.” Ari rasps, trailing his nose along the delicate column of your throat. “I thought I was safe, even with that lacey little scrap of nothin’ you’ve got hidin’ underneath.” 

You barely manage to stifle a moan when your man captures your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking hard before releasing it with a soft pop. One of his hands leaves its purchase to settle dangerously low on your hip. 

“But I see now that’s not enough for you, is it baby?” You press your thighs together when that same hand moves once again. This time working it’s way under your skirt - his short, blunt nails dancing along your skin as his mouth hovers a mere centimeter above yours. “I’m not sure why you thought it might be a good idea to tease me like this. Not too keen on you flirting with other men.”

“I promise I wasn’t.” Your eyes flutter closed as he grinds his growing erection against the softness of your belly. “I just got excited about the car. It’s from one of my favorite Stephen King stories.” 

“Is that why I found you two holdin’ hands?” You let out a whimper when you feel the roughened pads of his fingers dig into your heated flesh, making you squirm. “Because you were excited?”

It wasn’t often that your man got riled up like this. But when he did there was almost no getting through to him until he calmed down. If you were lucky, you could typically drag him to some place quiet, away from prying eyes and listening ears.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, sugar.” Leaning up, you press a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “I suppose I wouldn’t like it either if I saw you holding hands with a random woman. Promise it won’t happen again.” You add, weaving your arms around his trim waist after all you receive is a grunt for your trouble. 

Although you can’t help but notice that some of the tension seems to have finally left his shoulders.

“Thank you.” 

Ari allows his forehead to rest against your own as he struggles to collect himself. Wanting more, you cup his face with your hands, bring his mouth down for a much needed kiss. His eager tongue dances with yours, demanding more of your submission as the passion builds.

You’re both breathing hard when you finally come up for air. However, you realize your man’s not done. At least not yet. 

“You’re enough to drive a man insane. You know that?” He groans in between soft, yet feral kisses. “I swear I try to be progressive – I do. I got sisters. A niece.” A sound almost like a purr rumbles in his chest as he nuzzles his nose in the crook of your neck. “But I’m also man enough to admit I’ve got a bit of a jealous streak. Never was much of a problem until I met you.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” You murmur at the same time as your pussy spasms, dampening your panties with your slick. 

“Good.” Ari lifts your leg, hitching it around his waist and not giving a damn about who sees. “And Bird?”

“Uh huh?” A shiver courses through you as he begins covering your exposed flesh with tiny, possessive love bites. This time you make no move to stop him. Thank goodness you’d had the foresight to pack some concealer.

“I hate to break it to you.” His mouth finds yours once more, deliberately teasing you with each sensual stroke and flick of his tongue. “But you and me, we’re not gonna make it back to Bell’s Creek tonight.”

“And w–why is that?” Your eyes threaten to roll back in your head as his fingers find your clit, toying with the swollen nub through the soaked fabric of your panties. 

“Because I’m having the damnedest time trying to talk myself out of fucking you hard and fast on the hood of my truck.” He responds with an unapologetic shrug. “But I suppose I’ll just have to settle for a hotel, huh?” Grinning, he increases the pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves, loving the way you buck and writhe beneath his touch.

“I’ll start hunting for reservations.” You move to reach for your phone even as you feel your vision blur and your toe s curl. “But whatever you do…oh God…just please don’t stop.”’

END

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[dadsbongos]

CAN U PLSSSS WRITE A CUTE DENJI FIC OR HEADCANON/DRABBLE?? honestly idrc care which it is (obvi longer is preferred but i understand and am open to whatevs u give)

like about reader (fem) has a journal and in it she wrote about her dream dude, but like perfectly described denji and accidentally left it out and while they were hanging out or something cuz they besties he sees it and realized like "dude, that's me!" or something and then like a fluffy confession or something IDK that's just what i have sprinting through my brain rn 🤓

also maybe a lil kiss 🙏

thank you for giving me a denji idea... been fiending to write for him and just had 0 ideas

word count - 1.5 K / warnings - fem reader, not proofread!!, au where makima dies and denji just gets to be happy with special division 4 and they are familycore

~~~

“And the point of this is…?”

“I dunno,” Himeno answers honestly, shrugging, “I read somewhere that you can tell a lot about someone from their partner.”

“None of us are dating,” Aki huffs, fingers itching over the protrusion of his lighter in his pocket.

“Their preference in a partner,” Himeno groans in annoyance, gesturing out to the collection of papers in front of each of you, “Besides, what else do we have to do right now?”

Fair question, no matter how junky the science behind Himeno's apparent reading, not one of you had anything better to do. A storm was raging outside the Hayakawa apartment, all of Special Division Four having pooled there before the clouds even rolled in. Before Kobeni could shyly crawl out from the rambunctious crowd, there was lightning and thunder and an ear-piercing flood warning blasting on the television. 

So, Aki swallows the rest of his complaints and puts his head down with the rest of your division. His pencil sprawling over the paper Himeno slammed in front of him to describe his ideal significant other. A tedious task he's all too eager to bullshit through as soon as Himeno is finished staring down at him.

Denji is tapping the eraser of his pencil against the kitchen island, eyes straying around the living room. He worried his bottom lip between knifepoint teeth; only stopping when he tastes iron. Even Power has started writing.

Even you have begun writing. He wonders what you're writing. He wishes he could stretch his neck and take a peek without being obvious. He wishes he could read it at all.

Denji draws a stick figure that takes up a quarter of the page, dragging the lead back over the chest to add breasts. He glances at you through the side of his eye before adding hair and a small smile. And the black hair tie snug around your wrist even though he's only ever seen you lend it to Kobeni and Angel. Now he really can't avoid it: Denji has no idea how to write. 

Hopefully he can just coast with a bland drawing and let everybody think he's as shallow as they probably already believe. But when he lifts his head to glimpse at everyone else's pages, Himeno is already freezing him solid with her icy glare. Denji tucks his chin to his chest and subtly twists in the island stool to look at your paper again. 

Bullet points go five lines down the page; and the only thing he can make out is one of the few characters Aki’s taught Denji at his request:

愚か. Stupid.

Denji's eyes bounce back up to your face, eyes a little gooey and smile all soft. He knows that goofy look well, it's how he finds himself everytime he thinks about you. Before he can lose himself in that, he's jealous. You're making that lovestruck face over some stupid guy that Denji can't even write a strongly worded letter to. 

Denji writes one of the other few things Aki has taught him. Your name with a bold arrow pointing down at the stick figure. 

Then he erases it. He scrubs the pink bud over your name so hard he tears the paper in half. A loud shirrr dragging every eye to his hunched form, shoulders hiking higher over his face at the increased attention.

“Hark! The fool cannot even spell!” Power cackles, “Show me his words! Show me his mistake!”

“Power,” you chide, as though she's a fitful toddler and not a horrific Fiend, “Be nice. You can't write either.”

“Liar!” she points at you with a shaking finger.

Kobeni shyly taps Power on the shoulder before pointing at the paper overflowing with Power's manic ideals of a partner, “Anything else…?”

“Honesty!” she glares at you sharply, “And unwavering devotion!”

“Right…” Kobeni mutters unsurely, neglecting her own paper as she continues to scribble on Power's.

“Ignore her,” you scoot your stool closer to Denji and he manages to flip his page over before you can see the drawing, “Do you need help?”

He’s nodding before his mouth can even pop open, eventually he manages to sputter alongside it, “Yeah, yeah!” taking full advantage of his new opportunity to squish right against you at the island, “Can you write…”

Patiently, you await his request and he can feel his heart pumping in his throat every time you bat your lashes at him all sweetly. Your pen leaves jet black dots as it dips in your weak grasp, Denji has lots of words to describe you and all of them knot together on the tip of his tongue, tangled and lashing to fall from his lips at once.

Ultimately, he settles for the least descriptive, “Nice.”

“Someone nice,” you nod and scratch that onto his paper, “I like that.”

Denji feels his whole body go junky with sparks of electricity, blood boiling hot at how you feel comfortable enough to drag your paper into his full view. You point at your top bullet point, nail tacking loudly into the surface when his eyes don’t immediately stray from your face to the words below. Your bottom lip is sucked between your teeth as you study his reaction, leaning your face even closer to his.

Though you’re blurry and jumbled in his peripherals, Denji can still make out the upturn of your lips. He looks over the rest of the page, desperately searching for any other words he can make out and mold himself to. That, or cope and make up some ways in which he’s at least comparable to your dream man.

He can make out: Pretty.

Do you think Denji is pretty?

He sees another one he recognizes: 歯 -- teeth -- but there’s two characters before that he’s useless against. 

Denji has teeth.

“Sharp,” you whisper into his ear, tingles raising along his pale flesh.

“Huh…?” Denji turns to look at you, heat rising far up to his ears.

An airy, almost delirious, giggle floats into his ears as you circle the two mysteries before teeth, “Sharp,” then you circle teeth, “Teeth. Sharp teeth.”

“You like guys with sharp teeth?”

“Love ‘em.”

Denji swallows harshly, shakily pointing to the next bullet point, “What’s that mean?”

農民を尊重する.

You press ever closer towards Denji, leaning your chin on his shoulder, “‘Respects farmers.’”

“I respect farmers…” he mutters dumbly, “I love their work.”

“I know you do.”

Denji blinks down at you, his thick lashes beating on his rosying cheeks and spiky teeth punching back into his lip. His breaths are short and hard, red overtaking his cheeks like a flustered little Kewpie doll. So precious and sweet, ready to crack beneath your palms. He’d trust you wholly, and you know you’d treat him well. He knows, too. You’re nice.

You laugh at his stunned face, posture rigid. The sudden shock making his shoulder jab up into your jaw uncomfortably -- you find it terribly charming. 

“I like girls…” Denji sighs out in a tremble, eyes trailing down your face, “I like girls with soft lips.”

“Do you?” you inch closer, by now long forgetting the presence of your friends and colleagues in the apartment. Teasing is fun, but teasing Denji is just the best.

“Mhm.”

.

.

.

After an awkward pause, Denji follows the quiet hum with,

“Can I… kiss you?”

You nod against his shoulder, chin digging down into the bone. Denji stretches his neck to kiss you -- and your lips are even softer and more sugary than he imagined. His hands scratch out to cradle you to himself, continuously parched no matter how much of you he has to drink in. Warm hands and arms around you, clinging and wrapping and pulling. Wincing from the prickle of Denji’s teeth against your lip, you cinch a hand around the chest of his shirt and wrench it towards you -- pulling Denji closer along with it. 

“You like me?” he utters against your lips.

Pulling back, you flip around your paper and sear your index nail around a very recognizable word, “My ideal partner. I was a little scared to share at first…”

Denji almost jumps right off the stool, ready to coop you in his arms and swing you around fully in front of his roommates and coworkers. Instead he laughs in full disbelief to himself, reaching down to squeeze your other hand in both of his. You’re briefly concerned he’s cutting off blood flow before the joy of his pure excitement overtakes that concern. 

DENJI is big and plain over the very top of the page. 

“What changed your mind?”

You snicker right into his ear and reach out to flip over Denji’s paper, torn at the top, “I could tell you felt the same, pretty boy.”

Denji squeezes your hand even tighter, giggling almost feverishly before he’s sliding off the stool, “Wanna go make out in my room?”

“Thanks for having the decency to move now,” an unpleasant sneer breaks Denji’s cloudy dream-turned-reality.

“Fuck you,” Denji hisses at Aki.

“I think it’s cute!” Himeno pushes at the back of Aki’s head, “Focus on yourself!”

You let Denji drag you from the kitchen island and towards his (and Power’s, not that she’ll be allowed in for the next however many hours) room. 

“So, you really think ‘m pretty?” Denji’s voice teeters just on the edge of snarky, but his skittish, red frame speaks louder.

“Prettiest,” you coo, kissing his cheek.

The affection has him seconds away from blurting out an awkward, ill-timed: You’re really my dream girl.

[grippingbeskar]

duality

: ̗̀➛ joel miller x fem!reader

warnings: explicit content 18+ (mxf, f receiving, dirty talk, joel being a king as per usual) swearing, mentions of death, mentions of canon typical violence!

a/n: hii! this was based on this request right here - oh my god. i am obsessed with this, i really hope i did this justice! i kind of just started writing and went where it took me lmao. its all just smut at this point so like don't look to hard. also thank you to @everybirdfellsilent for the title name and answering my question "how do i write this?" with a simple "why not write both?!" you are a queen.

✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩‧₊ ₊‧ ✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩‧₊ ₊‧ ✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩

“Joel… what time is it?” You keep your eyes screwed shut when you begin to fight the muddiness of deep sleep away, but the early morning sunlight in Jackson always sneaks it’s way through. You stretch out, reaching for him in a natural reflex, and instead of answering you he just presses closer. You keep your eyes shut, letting your other senses guide your hands to his shoulders, enjoying the feeling of him under your palms.

You could hardly open your eyes right now, but you could do this. Lay here with him— you could do that easily. You and Joel had a string of long days recently, and you’d hoped, or at the very least expected that he’d be so tired he’d sleep up until the last possible second.

Apparently you were wrong, as you feel him shift under your hands to the point you lose your hold on him. He kisses you once on the lips, light and feather soft, and you smile sleepily, toes curling at the gentle touch.

“Mornin’.” His voice rumbles through you, low and brassy, waking your bones before your brain could catch up. As his hair tickles the skin of your neck, you can feel him moving lower, the warmth of his body leaving your chest and hovering over your stomach.

You reach for him blindly, and he guides you back even when you sit up on your elbows and peak one eye at him. You watch him move, his own eyes still half lidded, but his hands more awake than ever. They slowly slide over your hips, drawing faint patterns with his fingertips. The warmth of his rough palms move further up over your tummy, pawing at you to lay down on your back. ‘Relax’, he whispers, and your chest tightens. He moves you languidly, using your half conscious state to mould you where he wants to put you, and you let him, no resistance in your muscles.

With a hand still sliding up and down your bare skin, he leans down close enough you can feel the touch of his nose on your cheek. Before you can move to take control, he dips his head. First down to your jaw, the heat of his mouth making you shiver when he kisses along all the sensitive spots. He’s light and quick, your delayed reactions making it easy for him to move without interruption. You wonder how long he’d been awake. Waiting for you to stir, just so he could see you squirm.

His tongue licks indulgent lines further down your body, teasing your skin with his lips following suit. He starts at your collarbone, then tucks the fabric of your shirt higher so he can see you bare below him. The blanket covers over his head, but the light is strong enough that you can see his eyes watching your reaction as he plants soft kisses down your chest. You swear he smirks when you arch your back, nearly groaning at the light but not nearly enough pressure.

Your hands finally wake themselves when he mouths at the skin of your lower stomach, brushing through the soft curls on the top of his head. He hums against you, eyes flicking up with warmth lining them, and smiles slightly. The sight tugs at a string of your racing heart, and you keep your voice low when you manage to speak.

“Joel, let me…” You fade off, eyes fluttering as you attempt to bring him back up to you. You want him to feel good too— so as much as you love where this is going, you know the two of you can’t have very long this morning, and you want to make the most of it. “C’mere.”

He shakes his head, mouth too busy to reply as it dives into the newly exposed skin of your thighs. At some point he’d taken your underwear off— or maybe he’d done it in your sleep, making sure you were ready for him in the morning.

You’d both been exhausted last night, so as badly as you’d wanted him, you knew neither of you could keep your eyes open for more than twenty seconds. Joel had grumbled a few curse words at how he couldn’t even hold himself up, and as soon as your heads hit the pillow, and you curled in on his chest light a weighted blanket, you were both out like a light.

Joel was clearly making up for lost time. Slowly, he spreads your legs, his hot breath fanning against your core. The feeling makes you unconsciously try to close yourself from him— the feeling and the way his eyes were staring so intensely at the most intimate part of you.

“Joel, come here—“ You try again, and his hair brushes the inside of your thighs when his head shakes again. His eyes look to you, and they almost look… pleading.

“Please, baby. I need this. Let me.” He sounds half broken— his voice cracking and hands gripping your hips. His hold wasn’t harsh, still keeping those gentle, sweet touches he’d started with, but it was enough to hold you down and keep you right where he had you. “I’ll make you feel so good, I swear. So… so fuckin’ good. Don’t I always?”

His shoulders press you open wider, leaving no room for insecurity. You just nod your head as he stares up at you, wide eyed, waiting for permission. The lines of concern in his forehead disappear when he sees you agree, chest deflating like he was relieved.

He drags the tip of his nose lightly along your inner thigh, and you can feel your legs already shaking in anticipation. It was one thing Joel did so well; he almost didn’t know he did it. Making you wait. All day, he would work you up so subtly— soft touches, intense stares across the field. Words whispered only to you, so any reaction you had would seem out of line. And then here… indulging his every want and need while you sat patiently, waiting for him to decide when, and where, and how.

You’d do it over and over again, because you knew what came of it. What came when you did exactly what he wanted. Sometimes it was fun to fight him back, be a bit of a brat about it, but right here, when he was working you up so nice and asking so desperately— there wasn’t a damn thing in the world worth that.

“Fuck, baby you’re so pretty.” His teeth replace his nose, tracing the same line along the opposite thigh. His fingers massage circles into your hips as he feels you fidget and shake, the world still spinning slowly above you. “You’re gonna take it so well for me this mornin’, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Yeah. A-anything you want. I just—“ Your breath hitches when he kisses closer to where you’re all but aching for him, right in the join between your leg and pussy. “I need—“

He groans into you, never giving you a chance to finish your sentence as he buries his tongue between your legs. You cry out louder than you mean to, the hand not buried in Joel’s messy hair slapping over your open mouth. Joel smiles against you, tongue swirling around your clit in the way he knows makes you dizzy with pleasure.

Everything was too hot. It was winter in Jackson, snow falling gently onto the windowsill, but the blanket over you mixed with the heat Joel was spreading up your stomach was too much. Your back arched and he took the change in direction with eagerness. Groaning your name, he flattened his tongue and caught your eyes before they rolled back into your head, his eyebrows furrowed and concentrated.

“Oh, god… Joel. Joel, Joel—“ It was all you could think of to say, the pleasure shooting white hot sparks up your spine and sliding you further down the bed into Joel’s onslaught.

He was messy. Joel ate you out with an enthusiasm you never found anywhere else. Maybe it was the fact that there was nothing good outside the four walls you’d both found yourself in, the rest of the world cold compared to the warmth of your bed— or maybe he just fucking loved it as much as he always said.

Whether he did this for you or for himself, Joel knew exactly how to build you up; it was so quick you couldn’t prepare for it. His hands held your hips tight as you squirmed— grinding your hips forward to match his pace as he let you use him to chase your release. The sounds he was making were only spurring you closer— slurred words of praise hardly audible, his voice horse and breaking like he could hardly manage them.

“Good— fuck, you taste good.” Each word is muffled underneath you, but it hits you hard in the chest. Being praised by anyone made your heart flutter, but when it was Joel? Capable, stoic, hard-as-nails Joel? It was entirely different. A whole other ball game. And he fucking knew it. “You close, baby. Fuck, I know you gotta be. So tight…”

“Oh fuck. Fuck, I’m so close…” You whimper and he hums in response, the vibrations pushing you over the edge. Your fingers gripped his hair harshly, his mouth only working harder to keep its lock on you. He wrapped his lips around your clit, eyes fluttering open halfway to watch you, and the sight is what undid you.

“That’s it. Fuck, there’s those eyes…” You hear Joel mutter but you can’t form words to reply. Everything was on fire, your stomach locking tight as the waves of pleasure wrapped you into a ball and burst over every inch of skin. It was cliche, but it felt like fucking fireworks went off in your chest, Joel’s hands an anchor keeping you from taking off with them.

He was halfway up your body when you came back to it, kissing and touching you so gently you could have cried if you had the energy. It was moments like these that he was the most vulnerable— where he couldn’t get enough of you, indulged himself in you, but did it with such sweetness and… well, love, that you knew the man he didn’t think he was anymore was still in there.

“So pretty. Sound so damn pretty when you cum for me.” He whispers against your mouth before kissing you hungrily. It’s teeth and tongue, a mix of you and him on your lips as he pulls away to look at you, catching your bottom lip between his teeth.

Your hands reach down to tug lightly at his boxers, and he huffs, shaking his head against your mouth.

“M’not done, baby.” His voice makes you shiver all over again, pleasure still stirring low and hot in your tummy. “S’fuckin’ good.”

“I can’t, Joel…” You whimper, his hand ever so slightly brushing between your legs. You jolt upwards, your body betraying your words.

“Yeah, you can. You can f’me, yeah?” He was already moving down, ignoring your whines as he made his way back to his favourite spot in this house. He was quicker this time, knowing you’d still be sensitive.

It was addicting. He couldn’t get enough of the sounds you made, the way you tasted— it was like the best game he’d ever played. Joel was an adrenaline junkie— he knew it. He was smart about it, but he longed for that rush of endorphins when he was winning a fight or putting bullets into bodies. Out of all the shit he’d done, though, nothing compared to this. The best adrenaline rush he’d ever felt was right here, hearing you scream his name as he tasted every fucking inch you of he could manage.

He was messier this time. Wrapping his mouth around you and swirling his tongue in quick, mind-numbing movements that had your fingers burying deeper into his hair. He nearly came at the feeling of it— you, trying your hardest not to hurt him but still yanking him into you, hardly giving him an inch to pull away. Not that he’d every fuckin’ dream of being dragged away from you now.

“Joel… too much. Fuck— I’m…I—“ He bucked his hips against the mattress, the way you whine his name is like a stab at his chest every time. His nose brushes against your clit again as he tastes you deeper, your voice broken and tapering off into barely there words.

He knows you’d stop him if it was really too much. He knows if he pulled away right now you’d drag him right back where he wants to be, where he knows he’s fucking good at being. Joel wants you closer— all day, he can’t fucking find it in himself to drag you under his arm or kiss you like he wants in front of all those people.

He was too possessive.

None of them get to see you like this, how your eyes get all soft when he kisses you, and how you sigh his name when your body moulds to his. No one else gets to see this. He’s the only one that can break you like this. So when he has you? He doesn’t stop until you make him.

“Just a little more f’me.” Joel’s low, cracking tone sends a violent wave of pleasure skittering across your stomach, butterflies erupting at the sound of him.

His movements weren’t timed anymore, still just as indulgent, but he was losing his control. His hands were tighter now, fighting against the surges of your body off the mattress. You hoped it would leave marks behind— proof of how badly he’d needed you this morning. How much he wanted you to Stay. Put.

“Baby, I can’t—“ You choke out, a hold on his hair so hard you swear you might rip it out.

“Mmhmm.” Is all he rumbles against you, and you think he speeds up, or does something different, or maybe he just looks at you again— because you drown in the onslaught of whatever it was as you feel the familiar rush of pleasure all over again.

This was something different. Everything tightened and released, and you could feel how wet you were— a damp mess underneath you only present when you could feel your heart begin to slow again. Joel doesn’t move from his spot, arms still wrapped around your thighs, fingers drawing slow circles into the shaking muscles.

“God, baby. Fuckin’… never get tired of seein’ that.” He wasn’t looking at you, at anything really. His eyes were shut, forehead pressed to your inner thigh as he tried and failed to catch his breath. “You feel good? You there?”

“Mm.” You push out, feeling the warmth of his laugh between your legs. “Can’t… can’t feel my legs.”

“S’okay. You’re not goin’ anywhere.” His eyes open again, half lidded, and he begins a slow descent, mouthing the bruises he’s left behind as he sinks down. Your back bends off the bed, but he presses you down with a gentle hand. “Lie back.”

“Joel… wait, I can’t. I—“ You can’t talk between small, shuddering breaths, and he just shakes his head, looking at the mess you’ve left behind.

“Keep sayin’ that, but here you are.” He stops, hovering over your stomach; waiting. Waiting for you to tell him to stop for real.

“Lemme keep goin’, darlin’. Just a little…” He groans at the way your hips shift lower, closer to his mouth despite your words. “Fuck. Little more. Need this.”

His nose brushes against your clit as he looks up, holding your eyes as he spits slowly down your centre.

“You like it, don’t you?” He says, a smile on his face even when his voice wavers. You whine, maybe in protest or impatience, but he coos at you either way. “I know. Shh. I know, baby. Just stay right…here.”

You think you black out when his mouth wraps around you again, sounds and colours all blending together in your mind in a way that nothing makes sense except for the way his tongue feels on you. Minutes or hours could go by— every responsibility you might have drifting to the back burner when he was here. Right here.

“M’right here. Never lettin’ you go.” He groans, his hips grinding into the soft covers, and you give in, knowing he’s got you.

✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩‧₊ ₊‧ ✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩‧₊ ₊‧ ✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩

It might of been a good morning, but it was another shitty day.

Winter in Jackson was good and bad. Good, because clickers and runners couldn’t make their way through the thick snow, and froze before they ever got close to the gates. It meant less patrols, less waste of resources, less need for supply runs; it was the closest to normal you got.

Bad, because while clickers weren’t made for the heavy fall of winter, neither were the fucking fences.

Everything broke down, cracked and froze during winter. There wasn’t a single area that didn’t need repairs, so while you weren’t needed on patrols, it meant you’d be out in the field, dragging plywood or banging nails into something. Even with all the hours you'd spent on your area, it felt like there was still miles to go, your hands aching by the time you found a minute to rest.

You could see Joel the entire day, too, which only made it worse for your wandering mind.

You could see him getting pissed off, ordering the young guys he’d been posted with around and up ladders. You know he’d want to relieve all that built up tension when he got home. Sometimes it was a matter of talking it out, listening in a way Joel wasn’t really used to before you. Other times you sat in silence, pressed up behind him in a steaming bath until you could hear his breath start to slow.

Today, you had a feeling it would be something a little different.

You hadn’t gotten to continue things at all this morning. By the time Joel dragged himself away from between your legs, he was already 45 minutes late to his post. Still, he walked you into the shower, holding you up on wobbly legs, trying his best not to get too distracted with how you kept kissing his jaw and looking up at him all innocent. He managed to get you dressed, too, and with no time to spare he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek and all too suddenly you were standing out in the snow, alone.

So that, and the fact you could see, and sometimes even hear his low voice grumbling orders all day was doing nothing to help your focus.

When you finally saw the sun begin to go down, you didn’t spare a second before you all but sprinted off, bursting through the door of your shared home. You quickly shook off your clothes, the warmth of your house making you strip down to just one of Joel’s old t-shirts. Now, you waited.

When the door burst open a few hours later, you were like a dog hearing a lead. You jumped out of the bed, watching Joel from the top of the stairs as he carefully stepped through the threshold. He’d found the carpets laying on your floor for you a few months ago, and he knows how much you love them, so he balances on one leg as best he can to take his muddy, snow covered shoes off before he called out to you.

“You home, darlin’?” He kept his voice soft in case you were sleeping, but smiled when he caught you basically hanging over the stairs. “There she is.”

“You’re late.” You say, squinting down at him with a smile and your arms crossed.

“Didn’t realise I had a curfew.” He smirked, shaking off his jacket and abandoning it over the couch. Playful Joel was one of your favourites. It made you as warm as the crackling fire behind you.

“Well, you do. And you’re late, so better get moving.” He raises his eyebrows, a bigger smile playing on his face as he walks to the bottom of the stairs.

“You know, I was gonna cook you dinner and everythin'. Do a real nice thing here. How longs it been since we did that?” He walks slow, every step groaning under the weight of him. Your heart swells at the idea, and if you weren’t so hell bent on jumping on him, you’d take him up on it.

"That sounds n-nice." You take a step back as he gets closer, something about him still intimidating you- even when you knew the man underneath. “Plenty of time to eat tomorrow, though."

When he finally clears the stairs, you don’t have time to blink before he’s surging in front of you. His hands find their home on your hips, staying light when they pull you toward him and make up the rest of the small distance between you. He must remember how hard he held you down this morning.

“Is that my shirt?” He mumbles into your hair, already knowing the answer. He nudges your face to his own, smirking confidently. "You miss me that bad?"

“Nope. It’s Mark’s from today. I just got sooo hot lifting all those planks of wood I had to take all my clothes off, so he—“ You’re cut off by your own squeal when he lifts you up, hands gripping your ass tightly.

“Very fuckin’ funny.” Joel growls low in your ear, but you can feel him smiling against your skin as he walks you to your bedroom, kissing you dizzy.

It’s a little embarrassing how easily he drives you to the brink. All he has to do is say your name a few times, whisper it against your skin, and kiss you like this, and you’re gone again. His. You’re his to mould and bend, your arms lifting as he drags the fabric of his old shirt up your stomach and chest.

He watches with an intense stare, goosebumps rising where the fabric brushes lightly over your sensitive skin. When he finally slips the shirt over your head his control snaps and he’s on top of you, and he’s everywhere.

His hands slide up your sides, spanning the entire space of your waist and ribs, coming over your chest and cupping your breasts in his hands. You arch your back, chasing his mouth as it presses hungry, quick kisses between movements, his fingers catching over your nipples making you moan his name.

“Thought about you all day.” You confess, nipping the skin of his jaw. He huffs a breath, your hands tangling once again in his hair. It’s still slightly wet from the cold, curling around your fingers in something like ringlets. “Needed you so bad, Joel.”

“Greedy little thing. Didn’t get enough this morning?” He laughs, and it's almost mean- teasing. You roll your hips into him slowly. It wipes the smirk off his face, turning it into an almost painful scrunch of his brow. “Fuck.”

“You didn’t let me touch you.” You whine, rolling into him again. He drops to hold himself up on his forearms, hands touching you where they can reach. “Always want to touch you, Joel.”

“Shit, you gotta stop talking like that or…” You repeat the slow movement of your hips, and he runs out of words, practically whining into your mouth.

“It’s true.” You bite his bottom lip, a little harder than necessary. “Wanna fuck you all the time. It’s distracting. Always… always think about it.”

Joel moans your name brokenly, and you take your chance. A small push with your leg collapses him on his back next to you, only that easy because he wasn’t expecting it. He’s sitting with his back against the headboard, and before he can shuffle down you straddle him, locking him in place underneath you.

One of his hands grabs the back of your neck, hauling you to his mouth, and you let him take control. You might be sitting on top of him, fiddling with his belt and tugging his pants down, but he is still in control. You know he could flip the switch in a second, and he’s just indulging you, but you take what you can get.

It’s so rare he lets you take care of him. You could count on one hand how many times he’s really let you do the work, but when the opportunity comes, you were going to take it and run with it.

He was still searching your body, fanning out his fingers and running them down your spine, leaning you closer. He takes off his shirt so he can feel you against him, his tongue licking into your mouth like he needs to learn you inside and out. When you finally get his pants off, you don’t waste a second, both of you gasping when you feel the thick head of him against your heat.

“H-hold on, you gotta… Jesus Christ.” Joel curses, his forehead pressed to yours. “Let me get you ready for me.”

“Mm-mm. Ready. Please…need it.” You shake your head, angling your hips just right, and he slumps forward in something like defeat when your hand snakes down and presses him inside of you. “Oh, god.”

"Fuck. Slow down, baby. Nice and slow." He stutters out, his hands coming to your hips to try and hold you up. Joel was... big. Big enough to the point where you should of taken your time, worked yourself up a bit more, but you just wanted him so bad-- "Hey, look at me."

Your eyes flutter up to him, and he kisses you quickly, like its an apology. You stay there, feeling the slight sharp pain fade quickly with how desperate you want him, how fucking wet you were already. In a few seconds you try to move again, and Joel's hands tighten around you.

"You can stop, baby. It's okay, you--"

"No! Don't want to. Just... fuck me, Joel." You say a little harsher, shaking your head where its now tucked into the crook of his neck. You sink down further against the push of his hands, and he groans your name lowly as you feel him split you open, taking the last inch of him.

Your hands were still tangled in his hair, and where you were rendered speechless, he couldn't seem to shut himself up.

"Fuck. So fuckin' tight, Christ." You feel his palm on your ass, pushing you forward just slightly, creation a friction that has you whining. "Yeah, I know baby. Feels good. Fuck, you feel so good."

When you don't feel that pain anymore, you start to grow desperate for more. Joel was right. You were greedy tonight, and the friction of your hips against his just wasn't enough. You wrap your arms around his neck, shutting up his rambling with a lazy kiss, and use him to rise up just a little, before sinking down again.

He says something into your mouth, but the words are lost when you begin to repeat the same motion over and over again. Heat builds in waves, crashing higher and higher in your stomach until it makes your toes curl, your jaw dropping open to moan a broken version of Joel's name.

Your eyes roll back, head falling to the side, leaving you open to Joel's mouth who sucks harsh marks just below your jaw. You know you'll be covered in them tomorrow, but right now you don't care. You can't seem to care about anything else, except the way Joel is buried so deep inside you, you swear you can feel him everywhere.

"Focus on me. Need to see those pretty eyes, girl." He nudges you straight, your neck no longer able to support the weight of your head as it falls forward to rest on Joel. He groans again, matching your pace with his own movements, and you get louder with the added force. "Fuck, that's it. Let 'em hear you."

Everything turns molten inside of you, liquid heat spreading from the tips of your toes to your heavy head, and if Joel wasn't fucking you back so hard you don't think you'd be upright. As soon as he was inside you, you lost all sense of direction and control, like your body knew to trust him, to give yourself over to him.

His hands wrap tightly around your waist, bodies pressed together as he takes the work out of it for you. You move together— you’re so close you don’t have a choice, and when the hot, tingling feeling ripples up your spine you can only do exactly what he’s telling you.

“Take it, baby. Take it. Good— fuck, good girl.” His head drops from where it was pressed heavy against your forehead, dipping into the crook of your neck. Your palms can feel the release in his back, the way he relaxes as he finally gives himself to you. The noise he makes, and how he almost whines your name is a calling card, hauling you over the edge with him.

He rides it out. Makes it linger, all the pleasure and relief flooding your body in burning waves, and when his hips start to slow, his mouth trails kisses from your neck, all the way up your jaw and to your mouth. He breathes in when you breathe out, both of you wiped from exhaustion, but he can’t pull himself away.

It was like this morning, how even though his back was cramped and he was late as fuck to work, he couldn’t stop. At the expense of himself, he’d starve himself of everything if it meant being here with you.

“Christ, darlin’. Fuck, you’re so good t’me.” He says it like it’s a bad thing— words laced with an anxious wave, like you’d realise it wasn’t right, and leave. Even with him still buried inside of you. “Look at me.”

Your eyes blink open, hands still tangled in the curls of his hair. You can’t tell him all the things you want to— how he deserves this. How much you want to give him, and how if anything, you were the one who didn’t deserve this. Instead, you smile at him, and it seems to say everything all at once.

“You okay?" Joel's muffled voice asks, holding you tightly against him.

"Mhmm." You hum happily, a sleepy smile on your face as his hands cup your face. You feel his thumbs trace the high points of your cheeks, and his lips press to your nose before your eyes open.

You stay right there, his eyes watching you with no real purpose, just taking in the sight of you here with him. When the two of you finally muster the energy to go down stairs, Joel follows through with his promise to cook for you, and for this first time all day, your complete attention is captured.

[bullet-prooflove]

The Train Station: Rip Wheeler x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @readmetosleep @kierawashere01 @hangmanscoming @goldensunshine91

Companion piece to:

The Vet - Rip comes face to face with a nightmare.

Broken - Travis recieves a phone call from Rip regarding you and Malcom Beck.

You’re leaning against the hood of the truck, the headlights silhouetting your form when Rip returns from rolling both of the Beck’s bodies into the canyon. Despite all the illegal shit the two of you have done together over the past few hours apparently disposal of a body is where he draws the line. It doesn’t matter that you shot Teal Beck in the head after he laughed about the state his brother had left Gina in or that you watched him take Malcolm Beck apart piece by piece. When it comes to getting rid of a corpse Rip Wheeler is practically a gentlemen.

“You doing ok?” He asks as he takes up residence alongside of you, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “You’ve seen a lot of heavy shit tonight.”

“I’ve seen worse, done worse.” You say quietly, nudging his shoulder. “What about you, you doing ok?”

The fact you are even asking is a testament to your strength and character. Most women would have run for the hills by now but you’re still here, asking after his wellbeing despite the fact you have blood and brain matter splattered across your clothing.

He’s always held a part of himself back from you because he’s never wanted the darkness that resides deep down in his soul to taint what the two of you have. It’s only now that he’s realising there’s a little darkness in you too.

You hadn’t hesitated when you pulled the trigger on Teal Beck, you hadn’t flinched when he pressed the Glock against each of Malcolm Beck’s joints and blown a hole in every single one of them. You’d helped him roll up the bodies in tarp, hose down the inside of the stable, you’d even tried scrubbing the blood out of the floor in the cottage but there are somethings a stain like that just won’t come out of.

It's when you get back to the foreman’s house that he starts the burn barrel. He keeps it around the back in the yard for when he needs to get rid of shit. The train station may supply a certain amount of discretion but Rip isn’t taking any chances, not when it comes to you.

“Take your clothes off.” He orders when the fire is hot enough and you strip down to your underwear under his unrelenting gaze. “Panties and bra too honey. All of it’s got to go.”

You toss the bundle of clothes into the flames and the smoke plumes into the air with a shower of sparks. You look gorgeous in the warm glow, the scars from your time abroad, highlighted on your skin as you raise your eyes to meet his and whisper the words.

“Your turn.”

Everything goes in the barrel save for his hat and boots. He sets them on the wooden lawn chair instead. His gaze is still locked on yours as when approaches you, his fingertips brush stray strand of hair back behind your ear.

“Do you like what you see?” His asks you, his voice raw as he looks into your eyes.

You know what he’s asking, do you love me, the real me?

The one that was forged in blood, who’ll probably die the same way.

“I do.” You whisper as you raise up on tiptoes and kiss his mouth. “God help me Rip but  do.”

Love Rip? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[chatnia-starlight]

Hi! Could you do #50? "Distracting you while you're trying to do something because I want attention" kiss

Thanks!

Sorry for not answering sooner anon, I was gonna and then life busy and then I thought I had answered and turns out I hadn’t anyways: 

#50 "Distracting you while you're trying to do something because I want attention" kiss

The city lights looked beautiful and the night breeze was light and nice. Ladybug was sitting on top of a building somewhere in the city, she had lacked inspiration lately for her designs and as Ladybug she had access to a beautiful view where no one could bother her. Or almost no one. 

She’d been completely absorbed into her sketchbook, captivated by the night, enjoying the breeze that she really didn’t hear him arrive. She only noticed his presence once he leaned over her shoulder. 

“Watcha doing up here?” his tail was swaying back and forth, the tip of the belt making a soft sound against the rooftop flooring. 

She continued sketching and when she lifted her pencil to look at her drawing from a bit more distance she answered. “I was just looking for some inspiration, how’d you find me?”

“I went looking for you at your place and you weren’t there” he sat beside her leaning to her side, rubbing his shoulder and side against her like an actual cat. 

She kept idly drawing, working on the details of a dress, and didn’t answer until she had to lift her pencil to erase a line she didn’t quite like. “I thought your photoshoot was gonna end late” 

“It did.” He made a pause to lean between her and her sketchbook “How long have you been out here?” He stayed there, his eyes looking to both of hers, she could see the tiny movement from side to side as he looked at one and then the other. 

His gaze was intense, it made her blush and it made it hard to breathe. She gently pushed him out of the way, as she leaned back, to gain some personal space again and looked away to recover her breath. 

“So…?”  he said looking for her face again

She looked at him but didn’t lean in, she was trying real hard to not let him get to her. “So… what?”

He chuckled at that. “Are my eyes that distracting, m’lady?” 

She opened and closed her mouth trying to answer before giving up and decided to just pout at him. 

“You look so cute when you’re flustered, you know?” he said while looking at her with that gorgeous smile and that look that always made her melt into a puddle of goo. 

Since her brain and mouth had apparently lost connection, she decided to go back to her sketchbook, maybe ignoring him was a better answer than to keep staring at his stupidly beautiful face. 

“Aww, what’s wrong my lady? Cat caught your tongue?” 

“I am trying to work on my designs, and I came up here so I wouldn’t be bothered” She added a huff at the end, to make it clear she was upset, although her smile and blushing revealed she in reality was not. 

She went back to her sketchbook hopeful that he’d let her work. For a moment all she could hear was the quiet murmur of the wind and his tail swaying against the floor. 

Until he appeared once more between her and her sketchbook. “and I, am trying to get my girlfriend to pay attention to me”

“Well I am busy”

“But you’ve been working for a while now, you should stop and pay attention to me”

“I have not” she crossed her arms.

“It’s almost midnight” he said with a deadpan face.

She squinted her eyes at him and picked up her yoyo to check the time. When she saw he was saying the truth she gasped. “I need to finish this design anyway” With that, she once again went back to her designs. 

He came closer and grabbed her face with a hand under her chin, making her look up at him. “You really are stubborn” he made a pause coming closer until she felt his breath above hers. “But I’m stubborn too, you know.” and with that she finally gave in and kissed him. 

kiss prompts post

@kisspromptsforthelovesquare

[larcenywrites]

Hello! Could you write more about study dates with boyfriend young!Tony?? 🥺 But this time they're not fighting and are both in good moods hahahah maybe they're helping each other out with homework and giving each other kisses as rewards for getting things right. 😍 Maybe once they're finished, they cuddle in his bed and a soft slow make out session ends up turning into slow cuddly sex?? Thank you in advance!!

Oh, Tony will eat up getting rewards for answering right bc he’s always right 😌But I guess those two do deserve an actual study date (and to be sweet on each other)! This ended being some self-comfort because I have some big tests after spring break

A Much Better Study Date

Warnings: 18+ | unprotected p in v | I guess that’s about it because I’m so used to going ballistic with my kinks | fluff |

Word Count: 2.2K

Finals week. That week before is always the most stressful, but you can always count on your troublesome shadow to help you out! When he's not in a bad mood, horny, or wasn't even paying attention to begin with, that is. His only saving grace was being smart enough to figure it out even when he didn't read the textbook, and honestly it was your saving grace, too, when you were just too lazy to read said textbook. Really, he hardly ever needed to study, but one of his favorite excuses to hang out with you (and get you in his bed) was dragging you over for a study date, specifically when his parents weren't home. And also because he liked helping you out when you were stressed. Though, his help sometimes strayed from the kind you needed. 

"Tony, I'm serious," you laughed, trying to push him away from your neck and earning playful smooches to your arms instead.

"Studying is boring," he argued, a tempting uptick in his voice that alluded to his less-than-boring thoughts. You'd managed to get him through endless chapters of chemistry with no issue, but calculus II was where he drew the line, apparently. 

"I don't want to fail," you said back, more stern this time. He whined in protest, but knew he didn't have a good reason to argue against your concern. "Then can we make it fun?" He quickly sat back up with a newfound idea, much more excited and smiling wide at your small laugh. "Depends on your idea of fun."

He leaned back in, your noses nearly touching as he glanced down at your lips. "When you get it right," he started with a sultry tone, "I'll give you a prize." The offer was as tempting as he was. You'd play along.

"Don't get me too distracted," you teasingly warned. You were a little disappointed when he backed off, snatching up the nearby textbook instead. Unfortunately, however, his little game depended on you getting answers right. Answers to math problems that you had already been struggling on. 

"Wrong." 

"Wrong." 

Wrong.

"Maybe try it again?" His question was unsure, almost scared to suggest it after you looked over at him with a nearly murderous look. You sighed heavily, going back to square one even with the discouragement. 

"Close," he cheered, probably not meaning to sound so condescending. You dramatically fell backward onto the bed with an audible whine. He watched you silence for a moment. 

"Here, maybe you can learn from me," you heard him say before the notebook in your hands was carefully tugged on. You let him take it without a fight, but the heavy textbook that replaced it didn't feel much better.

"You just want me to kiss you when you get everything right," you pouted, sitting back up and pointing your pencil at him. 

"And then I'll kiss you when you get them right," he sassed back, taking the pencil and flipping to a blank page to work in. You sighed as you flipped through for another example problem, not having very high hopes. But he wasn't just scribbling incoherently onto the paper or sorting it in his head. You watched him work at a much slower pace than his brain was probably working at, making sure you could keep up. He was even drawing little arrows to help you connect the dots. You smiled, leaning in for a quick peck to his cheek and hearing his diligent writing stop. "I haven't even done anything yet," he looked at you, a knowing smile hiding on his lips. You shrugged. 

"You didn't have to," you whispered, resting on his shoulder. He looked down with that smile that finally broke through, getting back to whatever he was doing, but you'd lost track by now. So by the time he was boxing in his answer and looking over at you, you hadn't even checked the correct answer yet. Really you didn't need to look to know he was right. That, and he was already leaning down to you for another kiss, knowing he was right. You teasingly avoided his lips, instead kissing at the bridge of his nose. He hummed in disappointment. "Not what I was hoping for." 

You ignored him with a giggle, looking through the study guide for another problem you needed help with. "Do this one," you pointed almost excitedly at the jumble of math. Within minutes he was done, or maybe it was really that easy. That expectant gaze turned to you again, only this time, the grin on his face was a little more smug. You flipped through the pages to find the answer, almost afraid to correct him when you saw it. 

"It says this should be a three," you trailed off, tapping your finger on the page. He studied the page for a few moments.

"I rounded it," he shrugged, deadpanning. 

"It says not to round up."

"It's the same thing," he reasoned, head tilted with a pout. You sighed, unable to keep up your playful banter and leaning over to him. You could feel him smile into your kiss, and hear his whine when you pulled away so shortly after. He let you pick out another one and patiently worked it through with you in mind, playing along with that back-and-forth game, but whether he got bored of the work or just wanted to take control, you weren't sure. 

"Your turn," he sang, pulling the textbook from your lap and offering that notebook in its place. You hesitantly swapped with him. 

"Just look at my work while you do it," he calmly instructed, reassurance radiating through his tone. You only nodded, watching him flip between pages until deciding on the easiest one. Well, the easiest to him, probably. Regardless, you didn't complain, following along with those silly arrows Tony drew. 

"See, easy," he flouted before you even had a chance to finish writing it out. You turned to him with a frown, ready to make some remark or another, but your mind blanked when lips softly pressed to yours. But just as you had done, he didn't stay for long, quickly pecking beside your nose before pulling back. He returned to the text in his lap, continuing to throw whatever problems he deemed fit at you. 

"Look at you," he cooed, feigned impression in his voice as you boxed in another answer. You happily accepted another one of his kisses that had been steadily growing longer each time. And this time, he parted your lips with his, going in harder to leave you breathless. You teasingly bit his lip when you pulled away.

"Thanks," you said quietly, interrupting him before he could successfully chase after you. It wasn't much, but he did help you out a little. His eyes fluttered open to meet yours, glancing between them and your lips with a sigh before brushing it off with that always proud smile at being praised. He sat back up, taking the notebook and pencil from your hands and sliding over to the bedside table to discard those stressful study tools for the night. "Don't thank me yet," he remarked sarcastically. You huffed a half-hearted laugh, watching him flop into his usual spot on the bed and roll onto his side to look at you. 

"You could at least try to believe I'll pass." 

"If you don't, I'll buy you an ice cream or something," he said flippantly with a wave of his hand. You snorted, falling in place beside him. "You'll be fine," he reassured you in a whisper. The way he was looking at you made it so easy to get lost in his bright eyes and smile, chasing away any of your doubts. For tonight, at least. 

You scooted a little closer, his lips already pressing to your forehead and arm circling over you to draw you against him. You yelped in surprise when he suddenly rolled you onto your back, laughing at the rapid-fire kisses being peppered around your face. He dove into your neck, each one starting to linger just a little longer than the last. You bit your lip with a smile when those sweet kisses became soft nips, and your breath hitched at the slow hands finding their way under your shirt. His hands slid their way over your ribcage, coaxing you to curl into him when they slid to your back, expertly twisting apart the hooks of your bra. Tony sat up, bringing you with him, and patiently waited for you to pull your shirt over your head. As soon as it was tossed to the side, your bra was pulled down your arms, joining your discarded t-shirt somewhere on the floor. His quickly followed. Along with your jeans, pulled down with your underwear in one swoop (if not a bit awkwardly while you laughed at his efforts). Even that playful smack to your thigh didn't stop you from giggling. 

But the sight of his cock in his hand when he finally undressed did. You spread your legs in want, inviting him to settle in between them and gripping at the sheets when he did. He leaned over you with one hand anchored at your side while another lined himself up at your entrance. You were greeted with that familiar burning stretch when he entered you, clenching around him and squirming when he stopped moving. He barely moved in and out of you, easing your walls into letting him in more comfortably.

He dropped to you when he finally pushed in further, pressing his face against yours with a blissful sigh that fanned over your lips parted in their own silent moan. It had you smiling, cupping his face in your hands to bring him closer and finally closing that gap. The lips melding with yours pushed you back into the pillow beneath you, carefully licking over your bottom lip as they slowly moved with you. A shallow thrust into you had you gasping into him and drawing your legs to his waist. He made sure to fill you up with his second thrust before finding a rhythm in slowly rocking you with each strong snap of his hips. 

As much as you enjoyed his rougher side, there was safety and affection in this slower passion. The head of his cock languidly dragged against that certain soft spot, a tortuous build-up only mitigated by the harsh kiss to your cervix each time he pushed back in. A warm palm trailed up your arm before taking one of your hands from his cheek, lacing his fingers with yours and nestling into your neck. He pressed into you just a little more, dropping your intertwined hands against the back of his neck and adding to the mix of quiet groans and breathy sighs that filled the room. Your other hand was displaced, instead gripping through his dark hair and trying to pull him in just a little closer, pressing your cheek to his and hugging your legs around him. 

You whined when you involuntarily tightened around him, that gentle build-up finally threatening to tumble. His free hand that had been gripping the sheets flew to your thigh, the thumb caressing shapes into your skin matching the one rubbing at your hand in comfort. 

"Wait for me," he panted quietly, picking up the pace to catch up with you. You gripped at his hand and pushed him into your neck with the grip you had in his hair, trying your best to hold on for him. The tightness in your core was relieved when he faltered, harshly pressing into you between shallowing thrusts. 

"Cum with me, baby, you can do it." Hot breath fanned across your pulse with his words before teeth bit into your shoulder with a strangled moan. His grip on your hand tightened when he spilled deep inside you. You curled into him impossibly more as you let go, pulsing with his throbbing cock. 

You knew he was finished when a gentle kiss replaced those teeth, and those soft lips lingered up your neck. That smiling kiss pecked its way over your cheeks and down the bridge of your nose before finding your own smile. He started that slow makeout again, noses bumping every time he tilted his head and grinning when it made you laugh. 

He finally pulled away, hands leaving you as he slipped out of you and off the bed. It didn't take long for him to return, towel in hand. You reached to thread your fingers through his hair when he rested his head on your chest, flinching a little at the gentle swipe of the towel between your legs. He pecked an apology between your breasts before leaving again.

You rolled to his side of the bed, waiting for his return under the covers and closing your eyes. The lights flicking off caught your attention, feeling a dip in the mattress right next to you and the body responsible pushing you to make room. Despite his efforts, you kept yourself snuggled into his chest as he settled, nudging a leg between his to be closer. You felt his huff against the top of your head, where he still placed one more kiss before draping an arm over you.

"We'll pick up where we left off tomorrow."

[sixosix]

Sorry to bust down the door again so soon but I have returned! With more thoughts (trademarked)

(Also?? The fact I’m apparently being name dropped in reblogs?? WILD)

Akagi’s art made me go back and reread that specific scene where T!Reader keeps talking about kissing Lyney. (Beautiful art btw <3 I would ask out T!Reader on a date. She has two hands-). And although I didn’t realize it before, it felt like an interesting reversal of the normal interactions with them? Not to mention a couple of Lyney’s responses have me wanting to shake this man and demand his secrets. The magic man can’t hide them forever.

“It would’ve been easier if we hated each other, huh?” He traces his thumb over your lip, looking forlorn. “I wouldn’t have hesitated to protect my status as a Fatuus the moment you came back out of thin air.”

MAGIC MAN I DEMAND YOUR HIDDEN MEANINGS!!! Do you mean as seeing her as a threat? Physically?? Status wise?? Could it be the fact that even if you both hated each other she might still be able to read you like a book? Is it the fact she could have been a threat to Father’s favor of you as heir even if you don’t want it because last you knew, she did?? I know hating each other would have made it easier to dispose of someone who was once family but I can’t land on one solid reasoning behind this sentence. My brain ain’t big enough for this chief.

Lyney slumps against the wall, defeated. “Don’t just say that, Y/N. You can’t go around saying that.”

My heart goes out to this man. I know you talked previously in a different ask about the who knows about who’s feelings, but I don’t think you mentioned lyney’s perspective! Just that it was ours to interpret. So this line made me wonder- does he genuinely think reader doesn’t love him? That he needs to pull every trick in the book and plan 12 steps ahead just to slowly connect with her and have a chance? Because this definitely gave me that feeling. My take after my reread of the scene was that he felt like she was just being impulsive because of the alcohol with no real meaning behind it. He wants it to be real so bad, wants it to have those words be genuine but doesn’t think so. That he wants her to stop saying that because he knows(falsely but shh) that it isn’t true. And also because like Akagi said Furina really do be testing him but again shhhhhh.

Watch me stand at a cork board with red string trying to figure everything out.

(Also- I realized in my attempt to keep my last ask short I left out parts of my explanation of why I thought of the crack theory. Whoops. Maybe I’ll expand on that a different day.)

HI DEADMAN AETHER ANON!! you sent another ask about not signing off but i knew right away it was you LMFAOO

akagis art means SOOO much to me. its like someone looking into my head and drawing it out—its so wild. i cant believe we have a Thawed Artist !!! and the fact that akagi has a version of reader that we are all so in love with … THATS INSANE. we all dropped to our knees when akagi posted that art of drunk thawed!reader

LMFAOOO YOU LOOKING INTO IT. but i think you know what he means already… hihihi… stupid magic man always saying the most cryptic things

i said its up to your interpretation but u caught on what i was trying to imply! lyney didn’t believe a single thing. or a single kiss on his jaw for the matter LMFAOO who could blame him though? the reader he knows would run at the slightest wrong move—imagine how he felt having her all over him, demanding just kiss me, and its only because shes drunk. This poor man. he needs a hug. from a sober reader, preferably.

THE CORK BOARD LMFAOOO honestly, whenever u send me these asks im already imagining that. im imagining the anon pfp with a shirt of a deadman aether pinning red strings all over a corkboard

THANK U FOR STOPPING BY AGAIN ❤️❤️❤️❤️ WE ADORE YOUR ASKS

[arvensnumberone]

Together forever – Arven x Reader

Together forever – Arven x Galarian!Reader

First post okkk, I genuinely didn’t know what to make the title, and I hate this so much cause I started writing in Y/n’s POV instead of Narrators POV and I can’t write for Y/n’s POV like ever it’s so bad. I’m not happy with this at all I’m probably gonna re-write this like one day. Also I didn’t really know how to write the second part (after the line) so that part was rushed and not as well-written as the first part was. Also reader is gn, if I used she/her or he/him anywhere where I should have used they/them pls lmk,

Warnings(?): Kissing(really light), cringe(extremely), sensitive reader(reader cries like 5 times I think) I don’t think there’s anything else and none of these are really ‘warnings’ so yea!

Words: 1 820(including stuff above the line), 1 690(excluding stuff above the line)

………………………………………………………………………………

             This week was graduation week. All my seniors were overjoyed at the fact they were finally graduating. Several graduation parties were being held right before the last day of school since final exams had just ended. I was of course happy too, I could finally be a senior myself and I was soon going to be a year closer to graduating. But a part of me just really wasn’t happy as well. The thought of all my friends leaving me behind didn’t sit right with me. I was the youngest in my friend group. Nemona, Penny, and Arven. They were all a year above me. The reason we became friends was well, I don’t really actually even remember. That’s not the point here though. The point is that all my close friends would be leaving me, I could deal with it during class since there were a few people in my class who I had taken a liking too and was able to be their partners during projects. But outside of class I relied on them. It made me anxious to even think about being all alone again. I didn’t know what to do. I stared at the clock it was almost time for class. Had I really been awake from 11pm all the way till 6am? I usually fell asleep easily thinking about all sorts of things. It was easy for me to fall asleep; in fact I enjoyed it, being able to close your eyes and not have to worry about anything.

             I dragged my feet into class, the day was spent mainly fooling around, playing bored games, etc. Nothing really interesting. I dozed of majority of the time, or just listened to my classmates talking about what they were going to do during summer break and how we all should meet up. If you ask me the idea wasn’t bad, but I’d rather sleep in.

              I opened my eyes as I heard the bell ring for break. I hurriedly got up from my seat and rushed over to the area me and my friends usually sat at. I waited for a bit. And waited some more. . . .It didn’t seem like they were coming, they were probably on that field trip they were talking about. Apparently they were going today morning I think and are coming back on the last day of school. Must be nice. I got up from the place I was sitting at and walked around while eating my lunch. I settled for sitting in a corner and just watch the younger students run around and play tag until the bell rang.

             The rest of the day was pretty boring just going around from class to class and listening to student’s gossip. Eventually though I had arts. The teacher had requested us to draw something that came from our hearts. Whatever that meant. I stared at the blank sheet of paper I had gotten and thought of what I could even draw. Before I even knew it I started drawing, a boy I think. I couldn’t really tell yet. I was simply just drawing what I felt like I should. All of a sudden I stared back down at the paper and saw a boy, or maybe it was a girl? The hair seemed familiar almost too familiar. My cheeks felt hot as I realized who I started drawing, I crumpled up the drawing and threw it away. Screw my brain. I only had 10 more minutes to draw something. I eventually grabbed another paper and quickly sketched out an Umbreon and Espeon and handed it.

             I walked out of class and walked to my dorm, oh my Arecus was I lonely. I should probably try and make some friends in my grade next year. I fiddled with the keys to my dorm and walked inside closing the door behind me. I took off my shoes and crawled onto my bed. I stared at the wall and my stomach was making funny knots. It didn’t hurt but it sure didn’t feel good either. I thought I was having a stomach ache or something of that sort but it didn’t feel the same. This either happened from the thought of being lonely or whatever I was doing in art class. I turned around I threw my head into my pillow before I felt my phone vibrating. I groaned as I opened it. It was from the gc with me and my friends. They had apparently been messaging in there for like what 10 minutes now? I don’t know how I just realized. I opened the gc and scanned over the messages.

Arven Hey buddy! How ya doing?

-10 minutes ago

Nemona HI YN ARE YOU AWAKE OR DID U SLEEP THROUGH ALL YOUR CLASSES AGAIN ??

-5 minutes ago

Penny Calm down it’s been 5 minutes plus its 4pm, they’re probably heading back to their dorm.

-5 minutes ago

Arven But what if something happened? They usually respond really quickly even if they’re in class

-4 minutes ago

Nemona Exactly

-4 minutes ago

Penny What’s your point you imbeciles

-4 minutes ago

Arven Ouch words hurt penny

-3 minutes ago

Penny And idc

-1 minute ago

               Weren’t they all in the same place? Why were they communicating in a group chat.. I stared at the messages. I didn’t really know what to say and you were too tired to even reply back. But it was obvious I had read it by now so I quickly typed a quick good night to the group chat and set my phone aside, not bothering to see what they had said afterwards.

             I changed out of my uniform and into something else and jumped onto my bed as I closed my eyes. But same thing as last night, I couldn’t sleep. I found myself wanting to cry at the thought of being lonely again. I didn’t want to be alone, or for them to go, I really loved them. I loved how energetic Nemona could be, I admired her for that. I also really loved Penny and how sweet she could be underneath all that ice. I especially loved Arven, I couldn’t really pinpoint why but I knew I did. Just thinking of him made my heart flutter. At some point I started crying into my pillow, it was just too much for me to handle at the time.

………………………………………………………………………………

             The whole week had passed with the same schedule. Today they were finally graduating and you’d be a senior. The morning half of your classes was some-what fun, I wish I could enjoy it as much as my classmates had been. I hated the thought of being alone, but I had to accept it. The bell rang and I got up, your vision was blurry, though there weren’t any tears in it and my chest started hurting. Everything felt un-real. Maybe I was being dramatic. I got up from my seat as the bell rang. I was walking to the table me and my friends usually sat at. My walking came to a halt and I turned around. I can’t really explain what came over me but I really didn’t wanna see them right now. I was sort of starting to regret walking away but I couldn’t help it, I just needed some space at the moment.

             The rest of the day passed by fairly quickly, I was just lying down on my bed while watching tv till all of a sudden my phone started vibrating. I hurriedly reached for it and checked it. It was a message from Arven.

“Hey buddy where you at?”

“At my dorm, why?”

“Aren’t you gonna come orr”

“Oh Yea ok I’ll be down there give me a minute”

“cya” liked by y/n

             You changed into one of your outfits and put on your shoes and ran out of your dorm closing the door behind you. You went outside and started searching for your friends. You found them eventually standing near a fountain, talking.

“Hey”

“Hi”

“Hey Y/n!”

“Hey buddy”

             We all stared at each other awkwardly in silence till Nemona spoke up.

“I’m just gonna get some food be right back”

“I’ll go with you wait” Nemona ran off with Penny trailing behind.

“So…where were you all day?”

“I was just walking around, kinda forgot you all came back from your trip today sorry”

“Oh, I wanted to give you something”

“Hm?”

             Arven grabbed something from his backpack and handed it to me. It was a…a pokeball? A cherish one to be exact. I grabbed the pokeball and examined it carefully.

“Go ahead, open it”

“Oh, there’s something inside?”

“Y/n…it’s a pokeball…why would I give you an empty one…”

“Oh.”

             I threw the pokeball out excited to see what pokemon was inside. It was a… an applin? I looked back at him, his face was a light read color and I looked back at the applin. I examined a bit more till it finally hit me. My face was burning and I was sure he could feel the heat radiating off of me by now.

“You love me?” Why am I so stupid? Of course that’s why he gave me an applin, there’s no other explanation! I’m from Galar, and he just came back from a trip to Galar!

“Yea, I totally get if you don’t feel the same wa-“

             I cut him off by placing a kiss on his cheek. “I love you too! I never would have thought you liked me back..I guess that’s why I ignored you guys when you all came back, I couldn’t stand seeing you all at the time…I especially couldn’t see you, my chest felt tight whenever I even thought of you leaving so I just avoided you all, I’m so-“I was cut off by him placing a kiss on my face and pulling away.

“You talk too much sometimes, you know? I already knew that you idiot! And, I’ll never leave you, so come on let’s go find those two.” He said grabbing my hand to go search for Penny and Nemona together.

[cobragardens]

Things I love about this:

Aziraphale's cloud-pattern vitiligo. Symbolically clever and original, visually lovely.

Crowley's freckles and moles. I've literally never seen a piece of art or media before depicting a character with skin with a pattern like mine as attractive. Or, like, at all. Also I really like the way the shading and highlights on Crowley's skin are done. They're so close to being blended together, but not quite. The skin looks luminous, the arms and hands especially. This is also a glorious depiction of Crowley as a natural redhead, and I feel like @bubblytonks has nailed both the amount and the precise hue of that lovely brick-orange ruddiness many redhead complexions have in them, especially over the scapula and the shoulder and at the right elbow.

The repetition of their contrast motif in their skin--the angel marked with white, the demon marked with dark.

Crowley's feminine gold jewellery is doing things for me on a style level, and also I love that it's a bright orange-gold, not just because it alludes to his eye color but because it just looks really gd good. The snake armband is beautifully drawn (I love that it's venomous), and the detailed scales are done with care and some reference to an actual snake and not just longing.

I love how perfectly Crowley is ambiguously gendered here: his jewellery, hairstyle, brow style, and top are all subtly to obviously feminine, and the top leaves the Adam's apple (which gender police have a thing about apparently) veiled, but Crowley's not wearing makeup or nail polish, and he's got sideburns. His shoulder is smooth and rounded in a way that says female on someone so thin, but there's some muscle development in the arm, and length to the lower arms and wrists, that says male; the hands could plausibly go either way. This Crowley and Aziraphale are clearly inspired by David Tennant's and Michael Sheen's performances in Show!Omens, but they are also just as clearly the artist's own creation, and I love all the choices they've made.

Aziraphale's eyebrow is perfect. I feel like his eyebrows are often ignored in fanart, which is a shame bc both seasons' makeup teams did an excellent job on them. Both the visible eyebrows in this piece are gorgeous. I love that Crowley's is groomed in a feminine style. Eyebrows are my favorite facial feature, so this is a Thing for me.

Aziraphale's hair! Lots of artists make it look feathery and ethereal and cloudlike, but @bubblytonks is the first one that's made it look like a texture I can imagine feeling. I don't mean they make it look real, because it's also stylized in a way that makes my brain very happy (those little filigrees and s-curves at the crown and back of his head? so visually satisfying): it's more like verisimilitude without an attempt at realism. Ditto Aziraphale's chest hair, and my friends, it is very difficult to get me to like chest hair, just so you know where I'm coming from on this.

The curved lines of Aziraphale's body. What I'm experiencing here is that sense of familiarity you as a viewer can get when a figure is well-drawn, so that you are simultaneously aware that it is a drawing but feel that it holds something real. Rrrgh, I am not explaining this well. But like, I've slept with several people shaped like this Aziraphale is shaped, that exact line to the shoulder and upper arm. This piece depicts that line so well that when I view it I can remember what that line feels like under my hand. I don't experience that with most art; most figures do not make me think in any experience other than the visual.

The specificity of the kiss. This isn't just a press of lips; it's not the beginning of this kiss. Crowley is involved in A Kissing Project: he's holding Aziraphale's face with both hands, his eyes are shut tightly like he's concentrating, and he's drawn Aziraphale's lower lip between his own. He is very much doing a specific thing with this kiss that he wants to be doing,

And my very favorite part of this piece, by a country mile, is Aziraphale's smile: the dimple and the little upward curve at the corner of his mouth pointing to it. It's the crown on a beautiful facial expression: joy pleasure and happiness, like he's tasting something wonderful, even though at this particular moment he's the wonderful thing being tasted.

they're in my head ahhhhh

[bacchicly]

I brought really fancy really good croissants this morning. Delicious.

How can I still feel sad and angry and wanting to lash out? Well...I suppose that is a dumb question. The world right now has so much to fight against. So much to fight for. So much grief and anger. Maybe the question is more...how can I not? Or how can I expected to not be sad, mad, bad...for the length of time it takes to work and care for my family and care in the little ways I can today for friends and others in my world?

But maybe the question I should make myself confront is...how can I not put it aside and press on. Find joy. Show care. Even to myself. Isn't that a rebellion? Isn't that maybe braver than taking arms, than flying off the handle, than kicking down doors and drawing blood?

Connundrums but a call to action for myself is needed. My brain is not not happy. It wants to form a blade and righteously cut flesh and flay hatred...and if noone's else is available? Apparently my brain left to it's own devices believes my own will do.

I shall not. I shall work and fight my own peaceful battles and eat croissant at the altar of beautiful human ingenuity.

I will hug my child and look at the trees and feel the wind and support the team and pat the cats. I will maybe take a moment for myself at lunch and draw lines of love and passion over the bodies of deserving characters. Writing a mad beauty into the fabric of my little corner of the world.

I will stand fast. A Hobbit of a woman who believes in a world where people deserve kindness and peace and warmth and exhilaration. I will believe that today is part of a longer journey.

Best is not perfect. Best is circumstantial. Best is prayer and self preservation and kindness.

My mouth fills with unshed kisses but I will feel no shame. My fatness will hug my body and I will let myself trace and acknowledge my contours as heft and life lived as best as I can. I will reach towards the poetry of the mundane and pray that someday more in the world will have that privilege. I will not look away. I will bear witness. I will play my part so others can play theirs.

I will pray in the way that makes sense to me - reaching with heart and thought towards the future. A world of unsmooshed spiders and the right type of fear.

Thank you for coming to my Monday morning pep talk.

[justblades]

FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT ! PART TWO !

☆ CHARACTER : mafia boss! luca kaneshiro x afab! reader

☆ WARNINGS : SMUT, MDNI. breeding kink, spit kink, size kink, size difference, creampie, stockings, possessiveness, cervix kissing. not proofread.

☆ part two out of two. click here to read part one!

with one fuck up just like that, here you are collared to the boss' hands. you are now a part of his mafia— one that is powerful and upholds a prestigious title, one that shouldn't be messed with even if it was just a little. if anyone were to lay their hands on the mafia boss' handpicked, exalted people, they will pay the price; the payment is of their lives.

he showed no difficulties upon braving through the plight of extinguishing the old mafia you used to be a part of. luca kaneshiro proved his mastery in the society of mafias where anyone could bend the law for their own beneficiaries, to further spread their influence among the commoners— as you saw him operate with ease upon conquering your ex-mafia, it was inevitable you started to understand his charms and fall like a hypnotized victim in his control.

"you . . loyalty isn't a concept that exists in your dictionary huh?" he whispers to your ears, leathered hands cupping your mounds softly. you remain seated just above his crotch, whereas the mafia boss indulges in the comfort of his alaskan king bed, positioned at the far end of the mattress.

you shook your head lightly as an attempt to say no since your voice has long betrayed you. spending more time with him especially in moments of intimacy only did more harm than good— you couldn't feign bravery in front of luca anymore. you could no longer carve a falsified conceited smile across your lips, nor be smug about your credibilities and achievements you've soared so high for to reach.

"what if you meet someone better than me? are you going to do a quick switch up too? are you going to leave me alone in a ditch when someone more powerful than me leashes you?" strings of absurd questions continually come out that only made you rack your brains out for answers. it took you a short while but a flashback reoccurs in the back of your mind. that's when you realized. "i'll choose to stick by your side until the end . . that was my pledge as i replaced your consigliere." pausing in between sentences, luca buries his soft features on the nape of your neck.

his tall, pointed nose brushes past the sensitive part of the skin to which you whimper from. he's been like this for the past 30 minutes, your folds have become niagra falls at the painfully slow rate he was going. "wrong answer." he utters as he bites his canines down on your neck, your body flinches from the shockwaves being sent to your system. to soothe the stinging sensation throbbing on the skin, he rolls his tongue over and over to coat the part with his alcohol tinged juices.

you bite back the breathy whimpers threatening to slip out of your lips. "no one is better than me. no one does this better than me. your answer should've been something along those lines." the tone of luca's voice underlies with authority. "yes boss." quickly responding, his hands roam on your lower back, pushing you slowly away from his body.

"scoot over." slightly bending over, your back facing him, the striped, mini skirt you were wearing rakes up your thighs— showing luca a view only he have the access to. revealing your panties which were all wet from your sopping slit, the blond draws circles on your region with his index and middle fingers.

holding on to your knees as support to keep you still from your boss' teasing, more pleasuring tones bubble from your throat. his digits perfectly rub on your clothed clit, he knows exactly your sweet spot and what to do with it. although it is still a mystery how he's so proficient at this, the thought of him doing this with others apparently left a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

unable to bear with the lust clouding your mind any longer, you finally reach your limit and palm the male's erection with accuracy. "boss, may i?" you ask for permission as you slowly slide your fingers up and down his hard bulge; he cocks a brow at how you're acting as if you need to rush but he gives you an answer of affirmation nonetheless.

you slowly strip your boss free of the restrainments of his throbbing cock and proceeded to whip it out, curling your digits on his girth carefully. a bizarre idea popped in your mind while you were wearing the stockings luca ordered you to, and tonight was about executing it, wondering if it will work at all.

nestling his cock in between your inner thighs, you buck your hips up and down to let it slide back and forth your body, making friction to ease the yearning lust searing from luca's dick. the silky, smooth fabric of the stockings caress his cock from its tip down to its shaft, all in slow motions to fully revel in the feeling.

the longer you dragged it on, the more audible luca's moans became, his noises were lewd and huskily soft that only him is capable of making. he propped his strong arms by his sides and watches your movements brazenly, enjoying how his dick is buried in the comforting plush of your thighs. "fuck, where did you learn this?"

he asks and bit his lower lip aggressively, the libido gushing through his veins increases twice as faster. he admires how the bright golden light of his chandeliers gleam at your clothing, showing how your body looked so feastable for his eyes. the flames of temptation to prey on you continues to burn bright, this time it only continues to ignite— "i can't take it anymore."

luca says as he rips your stockings open along with your garments using extreme force, teeth grinding against each other, a little too sexually frustrated from such a heavenly view. there, he prods to your hole without any more words or warnings told. he clasps his arms on yours and pulls you close to his body, to which you mewl loudly because of the crown of his dick kissing your cervix harshly.

he was so big that he fills you all the way in, you couldn't wrap your head around that fact. your head starts to drift off into cloud nine this early, your arms being held on your behind made you feel more powerless than before. your boss proceeds to ram himself in and out of your tight walls with a slow manner at first.

his dick was coated with so much of your love juices that everytime he'd intrude your slit, lewd noises echo inside his lavish bedroom. along with the naughty sounds your cunt and his dick is making, both of you and luca's moans blend along as well, his groans of pleasure resounding in your ears like a reward for how you've been such a good girl for him.

you pant heavily as a poor attempt to catch your breath, the blond was picking up the pace way too fast that you couldn't keep up with at all. it all felt overwhelming the more frequent his cock's tip makes contact with your womb. "you know, i've been wanting to impregnate you for a while already."

the sentence chiming into your ears was what you least expected from the male, taking into account that it was from your boss, in a mafia you work under for. the only sole question popping in your mind as you received those words was: why?

"you're probably wondering why." as usual, he quickly gets the gist from your confused reactions. in before he gets to give you an answer, his heavy breaths become even more jagged and irregular in pattern. "no reason either. i just want to shower you with my cum until you finally get knocked up."

his gloved hands then let go of your arms swiftly, the heavy thrusting into your pussy halts for a short minute. "lay on the bed. now." he orders you around and you get to the position without dawdling any further. you lay your back carefully on the soft comforters of luca's vast bed, your weight sinking on a particular spot to which more was added when the mafia boss looms over your small frail body.

his golden hair accessory is nowhere to be found, thus his flaxen strands just hang loose perfectly, all the while his lavender hues fixate with yours. "you're just so pretty." he mumbles and strokes himself, prepping to enter your throbbing cunt once again.

with one swift thrust, you become a mewling mess for the nth time tonight. your walls were starting to clamp around luca's cock and the male could swore to the heavens your hole was the best he had ever laid his hands on. once he picks up the pace and builds a fast yet steady momentum, a knot feeling forms in your lower abdomen.

your eyes start to feel heavy the nearer you got to catch your bliss of release, luca doesn't stop jackhammering into your slutty folds as he continues to thrust into you even though he's creampied you already— his murky white liquids staining your walls and inner thighs. "boss . . you've been telling me way too many absurd things ever since you met me."

he only chuckles in exchange and wraps his right hand around your neck. "that's just how you have me tightly wrapped around your pinky." his teeth rotting, saccharine sweet words reverberate inside the four walls of the room, making you flustered as you laid on the bed there. "open your mouth."

parting your lips open, you stick out your tongue to follow suit according to your boss' command. he gathers all his saliva in one place and spits is out all on your mouth, you widen your eyes in realization when he finally says something. "gulp it all down."

swallowing the thick viscous liquids with no hesitation, you open your mouth one time again to show him you willingly obliged to his favors. the corners of his lips only tug upwards, he really have you now submitting yourself wholeheartedly to him. looking back, you were like a dog barking and threatening to bite hand that has been meaning to help you and make you flourish. but now, you're all warmed up and cozied to his character, not even able to show him the slightest aggression; not one bit.

the moment of eureka perhaps dawns a little too late, but the reflection told you one thing: luca kaneshiro is indeed a charming figure. it was undoubtedly that he would punish his failure underdogs as he always wants the best results yielded for the sole reason that is: results to him are fruitions of his skill and hardwork.

fuck around and find out, people say. you fucked with him, and you found out what are the qualities that make him admiring. you found the qualities that makes one worthy of the highest position in a mafia. you truly found out who luca kaneshiro is underneath the superficial of entangled rumors and hearsays.

☆ my masterlist !

[soranihimawari]

Set Up

A hangover, a pretty handsome man, and how you are the common denominator for this weekend’s adventure?

Word Count: 4.6K

Pairing: timeskip!kyotani kentaro x nurse!reader

Rating: 🔞—nsfw scene// finger sucking// mentions of praise

Warnings: alcohol consumption// creep at bar//protective Kyotani is a “bad boy” saint

Notes: someone’s falling in like and they don’t understand why that is.

It’s the handholding for me guys… 🫠

Your mortal enemy is the sun. It is blissfully shining through slatted blinds. There are remnants of a party where you took home precious wine sample and sake bottles from the club. Your memory is hazily drawing up what has occurred from meting up with your friends from work to the club where by hour two, a hot guy or seven, bought you and your girls shots, and by the fourth tequila sunrise you had, you were practically, “tongue fucking a total specimen of a baddie” and your friends politely and discreetly send you a photo at 9:46 in the morning.

“Oh, oh my god!” you whisper yell at the image. The man in question was someone you typically don’t seek unless you’re sternly adventurous—tall, blonde with racing stripes for hair design, all black ensemble complete with statement motorcycle jacket and pleather boots; a total punk with a kind heart.

“Fuck me you’re gorgeous,” what an opening line to yell at him in a crowded bar corner.

He leans down, his cologne is more oceanic than he is. He wears it because he came back from the mechanic, and you, no taller than his upper arm with heels on, make his inhibitions weaker the longer you undress him with your eyes.

“Could say the same thing beautiful,” and you felt invincible as his lips nip your ear lobe like he’s tellling you a secret. That’s how the first kiss started. A little luck, a lot to gamble on a flirty line, but two drinks in each, both were feeling a bit bold. Neither you nor him would have known how far that initial liplock would take you then as you senses come back to you, you realize what happened.

Surprised to see a tuft of blonde hair behind you, yes. Horrified to find out you’re involved in a one night stand with a club member of a professional team (by contextual clues of the obscene amount of lime green in the sea of grays and black in his closet), also yes. The room arrangement is weird, but you slowly pick up the color schematics is similar to a guy your age and the fact he has a lot of swag from Sendai City Frogs scattered about makes sense. Perhaps he’s a fan, your brain asks you. Your mind jumps to a plausible conclusions: He either works with the team or perhaps plays for them you figure. However, that thought does when you see his official jersey off to the side.

The hangover migraine takes over and you groan, raising a hand to cover the heat from the window against your face. Apparently, it’s enough to when you shuffle down back to rest your head, you’re too into your head to realize the movement on your left. You feel a hand slink down against the covers to pull you against his clothed chest. The black shirt is freshly laundered when your nose graze it, and from what you can feel, sweats, and for whatever god you found favor in, you realize you’re dressed in an ivory and teal shirt with the chipped design of AJ VBC on the chest.

“Stay still,” his hardened voice is harsh, yet you have every right to listen. The pounding in your brain makes you weaker in the sense of how safe you feel. Your head is safely tucked in between his chest as his morning stubble pricks your shoulders. He sighs, knowing how you tense under his touch, so with baited breath, he quells your embarrassment. “You and I didn’t do anything other than almost fuck.”

“Almost?”

You’re definitely horrified from the second hand embarrassment you feel creeping in your bones.

“Mm,” he grunts. “You and I will talk after you’re done going back to sleep. Can ya be good f’me? Hmm?”

His lips graze your temple and if you never saw them in the light before, whiskey colored eyes and smooth sharp features on this stranger actually makes you reconsider the nights you turned down one night stands in order to find a gentle bad boy looking dude in bed next to you. You ask if you can call off work and he lets you go to reach over to find your phone again. You sit up and do your best call in sick voice.

“YLN,YN,” the recording prompts you to leave a name. “Calling out sick for my shift today at Sendai Research Hospital. See you tomorrow.”

You hang up, slide back down under the covers unexpectedly hearing him introduce himself.

“Kyotani Kentarō,” his voice is more alert when you settle against his offered shoulder.

He breathes and moves a bit to have you settle against his broadly toned chest, an ear listens to how calm he is though internally he panics. Deliberate and sweet, he thinks as you thank him for giving you shelter for the night. He does eventually talk with you hours later around eleven when you are more awake than before. Two espresso shots and two bowls of cereal with toast greet you as you sort of stumble out of the room. You stifle a yawn when you perch yourself on the kitchen counter, your host sort of chuckles and you realize he’s even more handsome in the afternoon sunny background of his open kitchen flat.

“Want to talk about last night?” he’s bold in asking after taking a sip of his espresso. The machine still whirs on your left. You being the bowl down from your rosy lips, nodding shy at the thought of reliving one of the most interesting nights since college.

“Girls wanted to go out after a shift at the emergency room, we’re all in medicine, umm… I said yes, been ‘fraid to leave my place for undisclosed reasons…”

“Shitty ex?”

“If you consider the person was an on and off again ass, sure,” you hear him hum.

The barstool Kyotani(?) uses to sit scratches against the tile as he walks around to look you square in the eye. He lifts a hand to squeeze the fat of your cheeks until your lips puff out like a fish.

“You’re really got some angel lips sweets,” his voice is complimentary of the whiskey he drank last night. “An idiot’s gotta be blind to cause you headaches as wide as the trenches.”

He lets go as you feel your cheeks heat up more and more. “Y’done?” You hand him your bowl.

“So, go on, said you went to have a girls night?”

“Mm,” you take a sip of the best almost-one-night-stand doppio espresso had ever made.

The water in the sink starts to run as you go on, in illustrious detail, the events that led to whatever this situationship was or will be.

“And you thought you’d pick the roughest fucker closing his tab?”

“Either that or get Sendai’s finest to arrest a pervy creep…so yeah.”

He dries his calloused knuckles on the dish rag before walking around to the island ledge you so happily sat upon. Choosing to tap his lips with his dominant hand, you seem to be a bit embarrassed by the gesture he alludes to. You’re not at the bar/club anymore, yet knowing how your story from last night will include going on with him, you place the cup at your side when he rounds the island corner. His shirt looks good on you, is what Kyotani thinks, sort of laughing when he explains why you’re in his clothes:

“You can’t just whisper a, ‘help me out,’ to me and not expect me to follow through. Ma would kill me if I ever made a woman feel uncomfortable—said she’d take me to the butchers to use the meat slicer…”

You guffaw but you jokingly whine saying something slick: “shame really, wanted to see what else you’re good at.”

The afternoon temperatures rise on the cityscape below, but here it reaches a feverish high. It’s the only way you could reaffirm, soberly, Kyotani has permission to steadily capture your lips with his. Though brief, the resounding groan escaping his lips leaves you leaning in for one more as a kind, “thank you,” is heard against a natural frowning lip. His lips press against your forehead for a moment thereafter.

“Stay?” he’s suddenly shier than you give him credit for. You hug him, saying you would.

“We never went through with a one night stand, did we?” you asked five minutes later in between curious pecks here and there.

“Meat slicer, remember?” Kyotani shows you his hand before lacing it with yours to bring your palm to his lips.

“Y-yeah I know, but I,” you turn his face a bit more to meet your serious face. “I would have said it was ok to wait until you thought I was in the right headspace. Full offense, but you’re really, smoking hot dude.”

Kyotani must be a volatile lover because when the words leave your mouth, his brain switched a gear. He’s suddenly more hasty in terms of his hands on approach to getting to know you; he worms his way between your legs on his counter and you readily comply. Hands sneak under his-your-shirt, teasingly passing your abs and wrapping around your hips. Your hands swoop over his shoulder lazily, the other clutches his shirt by his pectoral. It’s desperate and needy, and so, so warm here now.

“You’re hesitating,” he brushes an eyelash away from your face. You stiffen, but you bury your face in his chest.

“I’m not really good at this,” he hears an innocence you thought you lost a while ago. “Not since that asshole sort of left me with a box of my stuff outside our old place.”

And he holds you there, strong, supportive, and kind. It’s been a long time since you break down after throwing yourself into work, a mask comprised of double overtime for a month to down-pay your newly acquired residence post sleeping in a spare bunk in the x-ray hall. Kyotani let’s you cry until you subside; what twenty something year old cries like a child to a complete stranger who is strong enough to start formulating a plan to show you this is part of learning more about him and you. Sometimes love is simply blooming with the actions just like now. He whispers encouraging words he thinks you need to hear, but the difference is in how he means them.

Through the waterfalls your eyes produce, Kyotani stands there, silent and stern. You lean back, covering your eyes with an arm he stops from rising higher than your chest. His hands thumb away the stray tears as you tell him you’re not sad anymore just really glad to have a bed to sleep on yesterday.

“And you,” you point to his sternum. “Kindness manifested in of all places, a bar.”

“Pretty people always need refuge,” his voice gives you hope. “Even if they need a shoulder to cry on.”

You hum, a smile honest and true splits your flushed face. Calming yourself down, a question pops into your head:

“…Are you free Tuesday?”

“I can be, got practice early on.”

“Oh, umm… can you meet me at the pike place park around six?”

Kyotani, rough hands and all, smiles a little, and to you he’s the best surprise of the outing—he agrees telling you to dress comfortably because he wants to see what a date with you entails.

“If I choose to wear jeans and shirt, can you take me on a ride?” you’ve calmed down enough and you make the JSL sign for motorcycle.

“I’ll look forward to it,” his voice gives you butterflies around your crown.

An hour or so later, you thank him for joining you in a tasteful walk, because there is no shame when you leave his flat. He walks with you, you’re still dressed in the same outfit from last night. Finding out how he came to never leave the city he grew up in, you had this nagging feeling to ask:

“I saw a jersey in your room,” you sheepishly have a grin. “Are you a fan?”

“You could say that,” god his chuckle is charming.

Kyotani’s eyes light up a bit more as you said you’re trying to catch an official game every once in a while at the nurse’s station. You keep walking a little further with him. Amused by your question, he chooses to rather change the location of your date, instructing you to meet him at the address he just sent you via text.

“I’ll be there!” You kiss his cheek as a final thank you for being hospitable toward a stranger, then you wave over your shoulder as you disappear through the rotating glass doors of your complex.

☆✩☆✩ ☆✩☆✩ ☆✩☆✩ ☆✩☆✩ ☆✩☆✩ ☆✩☆✩

And so the day of the date finally arrives. Since you had come back to work, your colleagues are either relieved or curious about the stranger who seemed like he’s a bit…ruggedly handsome. One of the charge rn’s nudges a nervous you in the right direction. You explained about the idiot who couldn’t take no for an answer, but alas when you saw Kyotani talking to a few of his friends, your eyes met. You excuse yourself from me grabby hands, your girl friends’ words, and walk confidently toward the motorcycle jacket clad blonde:

“Help me out and I don’t have to order an Angel shot,” you use bunny quotes when describing what you said instead of introducing yourself. Sure enough, Kyotani has his arm draped around your frame as you lean back comfortably until the other dude gets the hint. You seem lost in your thoughts until Kyotani brings you out from them whispering a harsh, “think he’s gone baby.”

You continue rambling how he offered a drink, you accept on blind faith he’s a gem. Eventually, when you realize you might have been left behind, you were inebriated enough he does step up to split a ride share with you. You and him make it back to his place, a friend soberly drives his bike into the garage at the basement of his building in the suburbs. You don’t remember much after that, except you wake up in another part of town with a killer headache, moderately dressed, and with the hot blonde sleeping beside you.

“And nothing happened? YN, that’s a lie,” Rika, your med school classmate laughs. She points out how red you’re becoming. You tell them about the forehead kiss, the promise of eventually forming an amicable bond, but nothing about the breakfast nor breakdown you had. Better keep that between me and him, you think.

“But, i…erm… I have a date with him tomorrow?”

There it is. The sweet new gossip causes the ladies to squeal with delight.

“Your blonde bad boy of a knight?” Rika presses. Her eyebrows wiggle.

“Yeah.”

More squeals and active status report promises later, the hens leave you alone. Sure, they want things to work out, you want it to too.

The day of the date rolls around. You come dressed comfortably in a light blue (almost teal v-neck) graphic tee with a moon embroidered on the upper left part and dark black jeans. Your don some black Air Force ones, the most comfortable practical shoes you own. Glancing at your phone, you had to the address after stepping off the train, after all, your date said he’d gladly give you a lift home. Walking the street, you see the stadium where many volleyball dreams are either made out played; the lime green walls are getting ready for the season opener. There were a lot of fans and the families of players came to go cheer on their favorite athlete. Practice was open to the public and though some of the older players had kids as old as six running around, you are suddenly introduced to the Tsukishimas (Akiteru and his wife go every once in a while to cheer for his brother, Kei) and perhaps the captain’s kids are the ones who pique your interest after they introduce themselves.

The pair asks a lot of questions but what you didn’t expect was for them to grab a hold of your hand and drag you inside; you were waved at by Akiteru who just laughed as you mouth an apology.

“Look who we found uncle kyo-kyo!”

Kyotani wipes his face with the towel over his shoulder. Your mouth is slightly agape with awe. There was a reason why you liked him, why you’re unsure how his name sounded so familiar, and when the epiphany happens, the offspring go find their father who just waits for a little more of a clue as to who his outside hitter ran up to greet.

“You play for the Sendai Frogs?” you muse, your lips curving into a smile. “Professionally?”

Kyotani nods. His suddenly serious demeanor changes when Koganegawa whistles at your presence and the one who looks a little more like Akiteru slaps the dual-toned setter on the shoulder, thus ensuring Kyotani doesn’t lose his temper.

Slinging his arms around you, Kyotani hugs you, whispers a very breathy, “help a guy out?”

You nuzzle yourself into his pectorals, hugging him back. Eyes wide like the doe he’s seen in the woods as a child, you beckon him to “really sell who I am to you.” Kyotani raises an arm to swoop behind your neck to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“Practice ends in twenty, wait for me, ok baby?”

“Hai,” you turn him around abruptly wishing him luck as the kids from earlier excitedly run up to you. They’re little and kind like their father, but boy do they love their uncles. Together you listen intently as they explain who they are and how they loved watching their dad and adoptive uncles play. Before you know it, practice is officially over with the players heading toward the locker rooms to shower and change. Eventually, the team exits two or three at a time. The talk in the locker room among the second season players centered around you of all people. You who they had seen their teammate be really chummy with at the bar, who really didn’t seem to know who the blonde was, nor did you make a big deal about him being a sports celeb.

“YN is nice,” their captain compliments. “Kids seems to like ‘er, what more do ya want guys? Leave Kyotani alone. Who knows? Perhaps he’ll have more to say next practice.”

The boys all oo’d and awe’d at that as the lockers were closing left right and center. Once dressed in almost the same outfit as before, Kyotani realized he looked more like a beat-nick than an athlete. Though, when you call out to him with a raised arm, he could feel a warmth twice the heat of whiskey run through his heart.

“Ready to go?”

He slings his bag up and over his shoulder to have it rest diagonally across his chest. You stand on the opposite side, holding his hand. The callouses make sense now, your fingers are much softer than before, a lighter than a cloud sensation is felt when you grip his palm with yours. Fingers, wide and sturdy lace gently around yours, as you listen to him explain how his day went. Practice was a bit harsh, but it was conditioning day from what you can gather. There is a practice match or two lined up before the season opener, both of which you are invited to.

“I can come? Really?”

“Sure. It would help either team out to have another set of medical eyes,” Kyotani teases.

You stick your tongue out at him before poking your canines with it.

“If you say so.”

Slowing to a stop outside a restaurant across the park you were meant to meet up in, Kyotani leads you inside. An elderly regular flags down her ‘grandson,’ and when you see the two shyly exchange a few words, you notice the respect in his demeanor suddenly change. The older woman, with his help, uses her cane to inch closer to you as if to inspect (really guess) if you are good enough for her boy.

“You are stunning,” she concludes. Her hands withered with spots and age taps your arm. “It’s about time little Kentaro brings home someone he likes.”

He sort of whines at her comment, raising an arm behind his neck to look away from your curious stare, a light pink rosy blush alights his cheeks.

“Sorry to keep you waiting granny,” you tilt your head to one side, a warm smile reaches your eyes.

“Better late than never, I suppose,” she says. Her laugh is bright and airy, like spun sugar. “Come, come child. I’ll make you some tea.”

She walks back to the kitchen with your help this time as Kyotani takes a seat at the corner table by the double kitchen doors. You return not a moment too soon to join him.

“She’s a spry one,” you say as you pull the chair out and make yourself comfortable.

Kyotani agrees. “Hard to believe she covered for me when I was about to be jumped around the corner from here.”

That took a turn.

“You really are a naughty boy,” you rest your head in your palm whilst imaging a punk younger version of him.

“Weren’t you?”

“Mm, you could say that I was more of a social pariah.”

“That was not what I was expecting for a medical professional…”

“Well, when your parents get divorced and your aunt pays for an apartment thrice the size a student in northern Osaka needs, then sure, social pariah is a label often used since bitches would bully me into angry submission–ever been part of a rumor you were caught fucking a teacher?”

“Jesus.”

“Exactly what my aunt said…No proof, no jail time.”

You move on to lighter topics from there. A little truth came out, but not much. Together, with the tea almost being done, Kyotani asks if you’d like some sesame balls.

“The old lady makes a mean ume version,” his reasoning makes you buy and split a dozen.

The tea compliments the snack and as you settle into a quiet afternoon with the athlete, you start to notice how kind he is to those who have helped him in the past. It’s a redeeming quality, one you’d like to see more of–there is a day you might have had a little argument in your early courtship, but when he returns to your door at three in the morning with an embarrassing large arrangement of wild flowers, you forgive his missing a dinner date: “it’ll never happen again.” And true to his word, he never does. Unless it’s postponed for away matches.

Currently, you are still at the precipice of asking the old lady if she needs help closing up the shop, she declines saying who is she to stop you two from enjoying the rest of the night. Hanging out with Kyotani at the park comes next. Here you walk around the mile long track. You tell him how you were ‘born to run,’ because your mother was one. You fill his head with stories of a younger you, wicked smart, with the speed of Hermes on your heels. Grandeur illusions came at the price of a car accident when you were fifteen. It’s why you wear pants or leggings. The pins and needles used to correct your bones made you the height you were now,so without ever missing a moment to remind you how fair you really are, Kyotani snaps his fingers.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, but is that why,” he takes two and half steps forward to stand in front of you. He pulls you into him a bit more sternly, and you realize he’s got a pondering look of amusement on his face. “Is that why you’re the perfect height for these things?”

If your life was a movie in the Americana 1950s, you'd have been a lead in another life because in case you didn’t know you did this, you feel yourself dip to one side with a soft bend of your knee as your date securely holds you never doubting you fall. His nose teases your cheek, hot breath exhaling nervously over your mouth. And those shocked eyes of yours spark something within which makes him want to wipe that extra gloss away–and you know what? Kyotani, the fearless athlete, your date, follows through with it. Perhaps all first kisses were just that: firsts. This gesture of romance, the way he leaves you gasping as his face lingers close to you after breaking a way, this is the time you let your emotions guide you.

So, you wake up in bed again after this date. The sun is barely up, the night sky is still here. Your mind replays the memories of last night: the pizza you ordered from down the block after riding on the back of Kyotani’s motorbike made the adrenaline pump more blood through your veins. Your hands wrapped tightly against his waist, your pressing your face into the back of his shoulder made him see stars. However, he did want to make you see physical ones–the beginning of it was when you reached your home. You should invite him inside, your brain says. You listen; you ask; he accepts. In the span of moments after wrapping up the leftover pizza, you find yourself in a situation of sorts. Kyotani falls asleep on your couch, tired from the day, yet when you go to wake him up a third time, his hand snatches yours and pulls you flush against his seated self. It ends with you straddling the guy, breathing in a sharp breath.

“K-Kyo, are you awake?”

“No.”

In a dreary voice, he asks if you’re comfortable a second later. From there, things pick up both emotionally and physically–his kisses are harsher, more demanding. You comply, wondering how long you can keep it together with him. Hormones, you’re a nurse practitioner, you know what’s going to happen if you keep–Kyotani finds the spot on your neck by your clavicle that makes you moan a little louder. His lips pull and suck the skin there as you become more like putty in his hands. His hands tempt your skin under the shirt you’re wearing until in a swift series of moments, you lift it up and over your head. The scars from the accident weren’t too bad, but when he esaxperatedly calls you beautiful nicknames, you tug his shirt with a pout.

“Okay, okay,” he has a wolfish grin as you help him out of his clothes.

Resting a palm on his tattooed shoulder, you wonder why if the ink there is the reason he wears the jacket.

Clothes scattered every which way, because when you turn in bed to see the remnants of a tumble in the sheets with a blonde man with a buzz cut, you say a quiet, “good morning kenta.”

As he inhales deeply, you let his arms drag you closer to him. You’re practically halfway sprawled above him resting your knee against his hip; whatever clothing you wore or whether you preferred to sleep in the nude after last night’s activities, you feel the remnants of a kiss lulling you back to sleep.

“What’s the story my morning glory?” You peck at his lips, a grin on your face. Cracking open an eye, Kyotani swiftly lifts the rest of you up and over so you know have him below you, straddling him a bit more efficiently in a pin of sorts at the moment. “Eager to start the day like this are we, doll face ?”

You lean down to slowly miss him awake. Hands travel to steady yourself from falling over, fingers toying with the ends of your hair.

“Could get used to this,” you share a secret when you pull away slightly. Kyotani’s eyes are wide awake now and there is a mirthful bashfulness in the way your hands scratch the slight stubble on his cheek. A puff of air from his chortle grazes your parting lips.

“Careful sweetheart,” the drag of his tongue over your lips. “I might not want to leave you unsatisfied…”

You help him sit up as his lips press harder against yours and you whine his name when he rolls his hips against yours; the sensation causes you to let out a soft, needy mewl — your hands beckon to bring him forward, resting easily on his neck. Good lord he made you feel glorious several times the night prior, but it was fast and rough the more you enchanted this man into your bed.

Perhaps allowing him to help release some sexual tension after agreeing every step of the way neither of you had wanted to stop, he learns how to appease you—the face you made when he’s above you is burned by the broken sound of your voice asking, begging, to be ruined for anyone else that isn’t him. It’s both a command and praise which caused Kyotani to hopelessly jump off the deep end to tether his soul to you; an invisible chord has your name and his wrapped in a chokehold, so when you lean up to change positions, you feel his amusement tense. Your hands look around his shoulders and though you’re legs comply with his movements, Kyotani makes sure you take all of him just fine; he doesn’t mean to call you harsh names when he moves with you in fluid motions, they just tumble out with every breath he knocks out of your lungs. Sure, he finally sees and hears how his praises are taken, yet alas, you hear how fucked he is when you ride him. Half way through this round, you switch and though you’re on top, you bite your lip when he holds your hips, having your sex constrict and relax the more he assisted setting the pace to just reach you deeper. You lean back a bit before his hips buck you forward and you inhale sharply, the proverbial edge for both can be heard in the way the headboard slaps against the wall.

“Don’t let me go,” you whisper a plea in your lover’s ear as you lace your fingers though one of his hands. The bruises on your hips on the morning are still a harsh purple, but in the moment, that bruising hold kept you steady as you feel Kyotani tense both inside and around his torso. His eyes are lustfully blown wide as you slower your stride—your free hand doesn’t clutch the sheets by his inked arm, no. Your fingers bully their way past his lips and a stern, “suck,” is demanded from you.

“Good boy,” you whisper. The nickname was the final straw and though he had your fingers in his mouth, he bucks up harder than before, groaning and growling like a blissful broken man. Sex, for all the times he’s had it, never had felt this rudimentary pleasing. You are full of surprises: bold and domineering, praising him for taking your fingers so well in the same breathy tone as when he prepped you to take all of him.

You feel the sticky mess between your thighs and his, removing your hand from holes lips with a resplendent ‘pop’. There, below you is a man who breathes like he ran a marathon just now. You slump over, caressing his cheek, the moment you hide your face in the crook of his neck. You too are breathing unevenly, breasts ache from the lack of support and his kisses on the side of them. Kyotani hugs your back, whispering apologies into your hair saying it’s been a while since he had someone to match his energy in bed. You nod saying it was the same for you too.

A few moments of silence is shared as you shuffle around still joined before you hear him say he’s going to slip himself out of you lest you want to act as cocksleeve all night. You laugh saying it’s not the fabled weekend just yet, so together, you watch the satisfied pinched of his brows as you push off your mattress, closing your eyes as you whine at the hallow feeling between your legs.

As you open your eyes slightly, you make eye contact with the ripped foil package from an hour and a half ago. You recall you had a conversation with him before leading up to this point during dinner—for him, professional athlete and all, sex is all about placing. For you? It’s not a competition to see who can last the longest or be the loudest, it’s about the fun in actively loving someone who fit a fixed point in time loved you wholly. Though kyotani discards the used condom and it’s foiled counterpart, he turns his attention to you. Your back is toward him and through no fault but his own, when he slides himself back under the covers, his voice is absurdly gruff with coercing you to use the bathroom first mentioning he’ll clean you better in your shower. You barely are able to stand, mentioning it’s been a minute since you had been dicked down so well. Kyotani, wicked smile and all, steadies your hand as you wince a little when you walk into the door by your closet.

Kyotani, when he hears the running water collects his thoughts before joining you—rest assured, the tantric nature of his love is coming. He just wanted to see how you could handle him and seeing your smile rise above the steam in your shower when a damp cloths runs against the inside of your love bitten thighs as he makes good on his promise to care for you and your head tilt to one side as you utter a soft thanks. Both of you linger in the bathroom far more than what you had expected, yet when you exit first, you aptly find a set of pajamas laid out for you by the sink and his underneath yours. Glancing over your shoulder, you swear you hear the washer go off and notice the sheets were changed. You smirk as you wipe the steam off the mirror, uttering he’s a keeper under your breath as you continue your nightly routine.

The comfortability after falling asleep next to him again was blissful. Almost like the present.

And now? Now Kyotani tries to calm himself down the longer you fall compliant to his whims, thus allowing him to kiss you slower like to savor this memory. You like this, taking time to savor how he feels against you, how mornings should always start with him, assured and kind. If you do meet his ma, you tell her her son is one of the best people you’ve met—sans meat slicer. If he ever meets your father, he tells him he’d sacrifice the world to make sure you’re always smiling at the simplicity of a love built up on a quirky set up.

Kyotani moves to guide you against his lips with a soft hand on the back of your head as he burns scarlet when you reply with an aggressively hotter answer:

“Then don’t leave until you do, Kentarō.”

[leemalkovich]

rippedstitch-s​:

It seems the hand is allowed to be moved to his cheek, where he lets it linger. And it’s calming, he almost gets lost in it. He thinks of something Lee had said back when they met, after a long night, closely sitting on that sticky old leather sofa. Drunk. He debates bringing it up and grins to himself, the sensation no doubt felt on the palm… But then Lee’s voice is harsh. Well, Ava’s a bloody liar, darling. Right. “Right, of course she couldn’t have been honest about being my friend.” It sticks a bit harder because he knows he’s right. His lips form a thin line and his gaze flits back and away. He lets the hand drop from his face where he’d practically been caressing his cheek. He misses it immediately. 

You said they don’t like dogs. Well of course they don’t, that’s why he had said they’d ‘get used to him’. It was a joke, wasn’t it? Lee moving in had been said, by Lee, as a joke. So why was he mad now?

Asa can’t help but mumble, “Fucking arse,” under his breath, hand rubbing his temples again.

It’s whiplash and Asa feels the dull ache of his forehead again. The kiss comes almost too perfectly as he feels his temples and hears a low ringing - lips crested at the top of his head too nicely, like he’s a child. The banter’s gone, because he just can’t parse it now. He wants to. If he could rip open his brain and see what makes him tick… he doubts it would help.

Asa finally reaches out, fixes Lee’s lapel with his free hand. Gently. His stare up at the man is a bit more intense this time. And there’s a long silence. “You love t’get pissed at your own hypotheticals.” Another observation. His hand grips the lapel a little tighter. He’s certainly shorter, but he’s still pulling the man closer to him by it, even by a tiny bit. His voice is lower. “Maybe I lied then, too. Because the man who upon our first fucking cut me with a knife didn’t seem like the first person I’d pick to cart my 5 cats over to when I hardly knew him, despite his lovely home.” And that’s true. Asa was just as protective of his own ‘family’- which, apparently, just consisted of Aria and his cats. Because everyone else would fucking lie about liking him.

“If it were now - “ Asa drawls, and his hand goes flat on Lee’s chest. “I’d love t’have you take care of them, because I know you better, at least a bit. And as fucked as you are, I know you’d protect them.” And maybe me as well. He tilts his head a bit, and his eyes go softer. “Am I still very good, darling?” He isn’t aggressive about it - but his voice’s timbre is lower and hence his accent thickens, with his own dark eyes watching Lee. The thin line of feedback in his ear continues. “Maybe we should sit down. Your neck must be bothering you. And my head has been bothering me.” He finally says, not knowing why he’s keeping it hidden at this point. 

–

Once his hand is ditched free and away, Lee retrieves right back into a pocket – alongside its left counterpart. Lee watches and listens in silence, gaze empty and eerily blank, save for the odd clench of his jaw. 

Asa’s an unstoppable force, but Lee’s an unmovable mountain. No matter the will placed on the curve of his lapel, his posture hardly budges. 

“Alright.” 

Inside his pockets, his nails dig deep into his palms. They’re neither long or sharp enough to draw blood. But they do hurt just a bit – just enough. 

No, Lee’s neck no longer bothers him, for he’d given up on trying to cater down; standing entirely straight instead. His eyesight travels through different corners of the room – as equally targeted, as it is aimless.

“You should sit down, mate.” Hard swallow. “Sacha’s somewhere, looking for me.”

All liars.

[rekarra]

Brain Break #3

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Rating: NSFW

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 867

Warnings: Degradation, slight choking, use of the word whore, use of the word slut, pwp, slight D/s undertones

Author’s Note: Yeah, this ended up longer than I thought it was going to, but it is what it is.

My Masterlist

“Oh, yeah. Just like that baby. Keep going.”

You loved how talkative Namjoon was while he was thrusting into your willing and pliant mouth. Namjoon’s moans and words were music to your ears. You wanted more as you hummed around the tip of his cock, feeling your throat loosen as he pushed himself further past your lips.

“God, yes. Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He rasped as he fucked your mouth.

You moaned around him as you nodded, feeling his fingers dig into the back of your neck. You knew it wouldn’t be much longer, but after your 2 orgasms earlier, you didn’t mind in the slightest. You were happy to be on your knees for him if it meant you got to hear more of his unfiltered praises.

“Yeah, you like it when I tell you you’re being so good for me, don't you, my little whore?” Namjoon questioned, but he didn’t leave you room to answer.

You did and Namjoon knew that. It was something you had both figured out early on. He loved to spew profanities at you and you in turn reveled in them. You knew that he didn’t think you were any of the “mean” things he called you and he was the only man you’d allow to do so. You weren’t a whore. You were HIS whore. Not a slut, but HIS slut. It did make a difference.

“Fuck, I’m not going to last much longer if you keep that up, sweetheart.”

You smiled to yourself, pulling away from him, wanting to draw this out longer. The growl that left his throat had you rubbing your thighs together, seeking some sort of friction as you were getting worked up again. Getting off twice before apparently wasn’t enough for you. But it was never enough with him. He always left you craving more of him. And he delivered.

He grabbed you by the throat, pulling you close to his face before he spoke to you again. “Did I tell my slut she was done yet?”

“No, sir,” you replied with a smile.

His grip on your neck tightened slightly, not enough to cut off your airflow, but just right to restrict blood flow, causing you to go a little lightheaded. “Then why did you stop?”

“Cause I need you in me again, Joonie.” You whined.

“Do you think you deserve to get off on my cock again, sweetheart?” He raised an eyebrow at you, expecting an answer this time.

“Please, Namjoon. Your little whore wants your cock so bad.”

“Fine, then get up here and take it from me like a big girl.” He stated, leaning back in his chair, cock proudly on display.

You climbed up on his lap, the chair he was sitting on was able to handle the both of you with no worry. You lined your cunt up with the tip of him, dragging him through the wetness before sitting on him fully, still pleasantly stretched from earlier and wet enough that it didn’t take much.

“Fuck” you both said in unison, quickly finding the rhythm that would have you both meeting your ends soon.

After, when you were both in the shower together, cleaning the other, you knew Namjoon would take extra care to lavish you with praise and sweet nothings. But right now, you wanted nothing more than to have every thought in your brain fucked out of it. You wanted it rough and sloppy, the sound of your ass meeting the meat of his thighs. You knew you wouldn’t be able to keep this up for too much longer, your thighs already starting to burn with your efforts.

“Joonie, please.” You whimpered, lips connecting with the stop where his neck met his shoulder, leaving open-mouthed kisses along his skin.

“Fuck baby girl, hold on.” He grabbed your ass, lifting you slightly before planting his feet, and started to slam his cock into you, pushing you back slightly so his pelvis would hit your clit with each thrust in.

“Yes Namjoon, just like that.” You moaned, unable to completely catch your breath. He knew your body so well that with the current angle, he had you cumming sooner than you expected. “Joonie, yes. Gonna cum. Don’t stop.”

“It’s it,” he huffed, clearly just as wretched as you were. “Come for me like the dirty fucking whore you are.”

His words pushed you over the edge. You cried out, clenching around his cock, and like dominos, you’re orgasm caused his. He moved his arms to your waist, holding you tight as you both rode out your release, breathing syncing up as you both gasped. You clung to each other for a few moments longer, feeling him soften inside you before he picked you up and carried you into the bathroom so you both could clean up together.

“Always so fucking perfect for me.” Namjoon smiled down as he sat you on the closed toilet, wiping away the few drops of sweat from your forehead.

You leaned into his hand, returning the smile, and nodded him, letting him get you in the shower. Food would come next and you couldn’t be happier with your life.

[itsinmydunah]

Breathless by Your Hand

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Xavier Thorpe

Summary: Wednesday seems to know how to read what Xavier wants even if he hasn't really admitted it fully to himself yet. 

-

Teenagers trying things out to favorable results.

Link to fic on ao3 - tags are found there for specifics

Short A/N: If you don't like this ship, that's fine! Please scroll by. Let's be kind to each other.

-----------

They’re tucked away in the library in a corner during a time of day when everyone is otherwise preoccupied. Wednesday is seated on a rung of a ladder that’s affixed to a wall of bookcases. She’s so much closer to his height like this and it's easier for them to get lost in each other without developing a crick in their necks. 

When they part for air, Xavier can’t help but just stare at her. Her lips are wet and bruised, her eyes hot, and bangs a bit ruffled. She looks affected, and he loves that - loves to see that being with him makes her feel. 

Wednesday seems to sense his gaze and quirks a brow. Her hand that had been clutching at his sweater traverses to his neck. Her nails graze his skin and nip at his Adam’s apple; he shivers in response. Her eyes glint with curiosity, fingers flexing until she’s gently clasped his throat. 

Xavier swallows thickly. There’s the slightest uptick at the corner of her mouth. She — how did she somehow know? 

“More,” he whispers. Her small fingers tighten infinitesimally, gauging him. The straining in his pants would be evident if she looked down. Even without breaking eye contact she still seems to read it on his face. Her grasp becomes just a bit more secure and he can’t help how his eyelids flutter. It’s good - to feel her exert power over him like this. 

“You know, I’m very familiar with human anatomy from all my readings and years of practicing various torture methods.”

It’s a very confident statement. 

“I know exactly where to press to make you pass out, to stop blood flow to your brain.”

The moan that tears from his throat should embarrass him. However, he’s too busy trying not to come within the next two seconds to care about the noises he’s making. His face is hot and he can’t help but close his eyes to avoid her exacting gaze. 

“Oh, you like that.” Wednesday sounds almost delighted, and he manages to open his heavily-lidded eyes to look at her. That wicked almost-smile is more apparent. She leans in closer to him, breath fanning over his face while her thumb gently strokes his carotid. “I like that you like that,” she discloses. She draws him to her by her grip on his neck, biting his bottom lip before soothing it with her tongue. Her kisses are hard and he feels lightheaded and feverish all over.

“Oh, god,” he whispers against her lips, voice tight. 

“Would you enjoy it if my fingers left marks?” She asks when she pulls back.

“Yes,” he admits. His heart races at the thought of having a necklace of faint bruises from her small fingers. 

“That would require more force than this.” 

It’s a statement. 

It’s a warning. 

Xavier blinks, swallows, and tries so hard to regroup but he just can’t. Not with her hand on him like this and her eyes so hot and sure and composed and dangerous. 

“I want it.”

Wednesday’s legs shift to frame his hips and he moves closer to her eagerly. The warmth of her body envelops him and he feels like an exposed live wire. His spine in a line of excite fire and he swears he’s never been so hard in his life. 

The pressure on his windpipe increases and her other hand trails down his chest to cup his straining erection. He bucks so hard into her that the ladder she’s perched on rattles. Wednesday continues to stroke him through his pants and he feels so close to coming that a whine vibrates in his chest. 

The minute tightening of her firm clench and the movement of her fingers and short nails digging into his neck while she applies that sweet pressure finally does him in. He’s groaning out in a high, strained voice, bucking into her and shuddering from how good it feels. 

The blood rush that comes when she releases all pressure on his throat has his eyes rolling back into his head. Xavier cowers forward into her form, tucking his face into her neck. Her hands move to stroke his back in a shockingly tender gesture, welcoming him in as fine shivers continue to wrack his frame. His breathing is heavy as he noses at her soft skin and plants kisses wherever he can. He feels sated and grateful and seen.

When he’s finally more coherent, Xavier pulls back to look at her. Wednesday's clothes are ruffled from his desperation to be close to her. She doesn’t appear angered by this. 

“Well, you’ll have the marks you wanted,” she says, reaching to brush her fingertips over his neck. Her eyes glint and she seems almost pleased?

Xavier embarrassedly shifts on his feet. He just came in his pants in the library after being choked and fondled by his itsy-bitsy girlfriend. 

Jesus, if past him could see him now… 

“Don’t bother feeling ashamed. Erotic asphyxiation is a fairly common kink from my understanding.” 

He laughs and ducks his head. “God, Wednesday.” He’s constantly mystified by her. “I, uh, liked that a lot.” He closes his eyes for a moment at his own idiocy - no shit he liked it. The evidence of how much he’d enjoyed it was pretty obvious. “What I mean is ‘thank you’ for not being… weirded out by it. I didn’t even know that I would…” He’d had an inkling before that a hand on his throat would do it for him, but his own reaction had been more than he could’ve anticipated. 

“There is little that would ‘weird me out,’ as you put it.” Wednesday blinks. “I’ll admit to enjoying your desperation.”

Xavier feels his face heat up at her words. He can’t deny it. “I’m always desperate for you,” he admits lowly, face still dipped. In a moment of bravery, he looks up and sees that she’s not not affected by his statement. 

Wednesday tilts her head, “I know.” She doesn’t say anything further, but she does help him straighten his coat over the obvious wet spot on his pants when they begin shuffling to leave. 

When they get to his room, she stands on her tiptoes to give him a kiss, eyes lingering on his neck before she departs. “Enjoy your marks.” Xavier feels dazed and lucky and excited for what’s to come.