#but as it is...even towards the end of their first year gives pat enough time to gain his reputation

[dribs-and-drabbles]

So it seems the consensus is that at the start of Bad Buddy, Pat and Pran are somewhere in the second half of their first year at university (mainly because the time-skip at the start of ep 7 does say 'year 2'). And that either the production team took artistic liberties with the wardrobe so that the characters could have more distinguishing clothes than just the usual black and white, or that by this point in the year their 'uniform' does allow for different coloured pants, shirts, and the blue/red jackets anyway.

Thanks for helping out @jemmo @seeking-moonscapes @grapejuicegay and @sharingfandoms! (and in case you're interested: @heaven-hell-and-humanity @lost-my-sanity1)

[luveline]

I know you’re asking for Spencer fics… While I adore single dad!Spencer… How about some single mom!reader and Spencer? 💕

You and your daughter work your way into Spencer’s life one chess game at a time. fem, 1.3k

It all starts with, “Hello.” 

Spencer looks up, and he finds any word he could’ve said dead on his tongue. You smile at him oddly gentle, and he assumes he’s got something on his face your afraid to point out.

“Hi,” you say, unperturbed by his lack of response. You keep your head ducked but seem friendly enough as you lick your lips. “I don’t know if you’re busy, but I was wondering if you’d play chess with my daughter. You don’t have to say yes, but she’s really polite and she won’t cheat, and she really wants to say hi.” 

Spencer looks behind you, where your daughter stands a ways away pretending not to watch. She could only be three of your years old —if she can play chess, she’s a prodigy. She has on stripy tights and a dress, a vinyl coat open over the top, her hands wringing together. 

“Okay,” Spencer says. 

Your smile is even nicer, then. Relief and thankfulness aimed fully at him. “Thank you.” 

You meander back to your daughter and bend down to whisper instructions too quiet for Spencer to hear. Shy, your daughter shimmies forward, then walks proper steps when you encourage her with your hand behind her shoulder. “It’s okay,” you whisper, “let’s say hi.” 

The chess boards are built into the tables at the park. Spencer sits on one stone stool, and your daughter makes herself comfortable on the opposite one. You kneel beside her without worry, knees on the dirty floor. 

“Hi,” your daughter says. She has a high voice, reedy, like she needs a drink. 

You rub her arm. 

“Hello,” Spencer says. “Have you played before?” 

“Me and mom play.” 

“So you know the rules?” 

“Some,” she says. 

Spencer’s only human. He does think about the horror of being trapped opposite of a toddler for the next half an hour bumbling through the steps, but it’s not as though he has other things to do, and, really, he loves people. He’s scared of talking, that’s all. 

“We play a lot on my phone, where it tells her what moves she can and can’t do,” you say. “But it’s okay. I have practice, I can be the phone.” 

Your daughter laughs like this is the funniest thing on the planet. “You don’t look like a phone,” she says. 

“That’s nice of you, but that’s ‘cos you’ve never seen my wires.” 

She laughs again. 

“I know all the rules, too, don’t worry,” Spencer says. “Are those your pieces? Or we can play with mine?” 

“Sofie has her pieces, it’s okay, we don’t wanna lose yours.” 

You let your backpack slip down your back and unveil a chess board box with sellotaped corners. The sleeve inside is unhurt, and you put it in the middle of the table. Spencer takes initiative and grabs the purple ones. You and Sofie arrange the pink ones in a mirror. 

Sofie is surprisingly good at chess, considering her age. Sometimes Spencer ends up playing against you, your advice murmured in her ear, and every time you smile at him he feels a little nauseous.  

He lets her win, of course. The first few times, at least. Over weeks, you and Sofia occasionally see him in the park playing chess, some days in the middle of a game with someone else, other times alone. Sofie comes up to him increasingly confident to ask for the next game, and Spencer realises he’s somehow made two friends. 

“Spencer!” Sofie shouts, tumbling over the grass bank to stop on the end of the retaining wall bordering the chess tables. You’re just behind her, looking tired. 

“Sofie, hi!” 

Sofie jumps down off of the wall before either of you can stop her. “Spencer, where have you been?” She rockets toward him. He stands, worried she’ll fall flat on her face, but she continues to race toward him until she’s throwing her arms around his legs. “I missed you.” 

“Well, I missed you too,” he says, surprised. He gives her back a tentative pat. “I’ve been learning new techniques.” 

“But where did you go?” she asks. 

“I went to Alaska. It was super cold.”

“Hi, Spencer,” you greet, flushed as you plop down on the stone seat opposite him. 

Believe it or not (easily believable), Spencer didn’t ask you your name the first time you met. Or the second. On the third occasion you met, you actually apologised with too much sincerity and said, “I’m so sorry, I never asked what your name was. I can’t believe it. I’m Y/N.” 

So now you’re introduced, and Spencer has a raging crush on you. 

Spencer grins as Sofie sits on his seat, shuffling over so they can sit together. “What, you’re on my team today?” he asks her excitedly. 

“Yes!” She pats the chess board. “Mom, my pieces.” 

“It’s okay, we can use mine.” Spencer’s are already out on the table. He’d been hoping to see you both. 

“I won’t lose them,” Sofie promises. 

“I might. Where have you been, Spencer? Sof made us come here four times last week, we had to play chess with Melinda.” 

“I was working,” he says. “We’re always going somewhere far away, I didn’t realise we’d be there for so long.” 

“‘Cos he’s a special agent,” you whisper to Sofie. 

She puts a finger over her lips, “Mom, don’t so loud!” 

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” You nudge a King back onto his square. “Did I blow your cover?” you ask, your voice a rolling murmur.

Spencer holds Sofie’s back reactively as she wiggles on the seat. He has an answer. He should play along —he’s been reading up on how to flirt like he’s not a lonely weirdo and that’s with confidence and running jokes, but the way you’re looking at him stops him in his tracks. 

No one ever mentions the panic of a shared smile. 

“What happens if people find out?” Sofie asks worriedly. 

“Nothing happens, Sofie, I’m the boring kind of special agent where nothing I do is a secret.” He winces at her crestfallen expression. “I’m sorry. Maybe we can have a secret mission together? Me, you, and mom?” 

“Really?” you ask, surprised. 

Spencer nods enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah! Yeah, of course.” 

“Like… dinner?” 

Spencer bites the tip of his tongue, to an immediate sting. It’s not the first time in his life a conversation he’s in has occurred without him: you’re shared smile was you flirting first. His reciprocation, while not intended, has served as flirtation. 

He didn’t mean to do it, but he doesn’t care, he won’t mess it up, “If you want to?” He clears his throat, his voice returning to a more acceptable tenor. “We could go for dinner… tonight.” 

“Tonight?” 

“Not tonight. Not… unless you want to?” 

“We didn’t have dinner yet,” Sofie says helpfully. 

Your gaze falls to the chess board. “I don’t think I’m dressed for dinner. I had such a long shift.” You’re shrugging, minimising yourself. 

Spencer moves his and Sofie’s first pawn. “You always look beautiful.” 

He cannot look at you after he says it, but he doesn’t need to. 

“Mom, you're doing that smile like when Mr. Mailman brings our letters.” 

“Thank, Sofie,” you say. 

Spencer sneaks a glance at your smile. It’s decidedly shy, and if he were to touch your cheek, he guesses he’d find your skin warming. “What does he do when he brings the letters?” Spencer asks. 

You pin him with wide eyes. 

“He says she’s pretty with a big ‘p’,” Sofie whispers. 

“She is pretty,” Spencer whispers back. 

You move a chess piece with a breathless laugh. “Okay, then let’s get dinner after I wipe the floor with you both.” 

Spencer decides now is the appropriate time to reveal that he is very good at chess. He and Sofie win in ten moves. 

[sttoru]

‘toji doesn’t know how to properly give aftercare — nor did he care to do so before. but, meeting you changed his ways of thinking.’

☀︎｜toji fushiguro x female reader. suggestive; fluff, comfort, angst. established relationship. hint of an age gap between toji and reader. mention of virgin!reader. mention of toji’s previous / past wife. grumpy sad dilf toji who learns how to love again t_t. reader gets called ‘doll, little girl’. self indulgent? yessir.

toji grunts and his exhausted body collapses to the side, careful not to crush you underneath his burly figure. he drapes one arm over his eyes with the other resting near his side. his eyelids felt heavy — clearly needing some rest after hours of continuous bodily satisfaction.

he had gone a bit overboard this once. even toji himself was feeling the aftermath since his muscles were aching and his brain was telling him to go to sleep. the assassin was about to, however his ears picked up on a little muffled whimper sounding from beside him.

“mmph,” you sniff. your face was still buried in the pillow below you — your tears and drool staining the material. your limbs were trembling and you were completely and utterly spent. you couldn’t even turn around to lay on your back; it was all just too much.

toji watches you with an unchanging expression for a second. normally for him this would be the part where he’d get the money, dress himself back up and leave through the front door with a small ‘thanks for your time’ comment.

but, that was his past. that was after the death of his wife and before he had met you — that was a dark time where he sought money in any kind of way to ease the hidden guilt and pain in his body. he’d sleep with women for a pay check. and maybe also to simply forget about his miserable life.

toji thought that he wouldn’t ever love himself nor another person again after his life went downhill. though, that thought was proven wrong by you.

you were a girl whom he had met on numerous occasions by accident to the point you decided to exchange phone numbers. you had also eventually started to help toji with his son - megumi - during tough times.

a sweet young woman: that’s what you were and still are in his eyes. maybe you were the change toji needed. the miracle to heal from his past and get himself together.

“hey,” the dark-haired man speaks up in a gruff tone after taking in your weak state. he felt a faint twinge of guilt deep within him since he was the reason you ended up like that. perhaps he took it too far.

you looked up at toji through half-closed and watery eyes. all you could do was tiredly hum in response, “mhm?”

silence follows. it’s not really awkward, but there was a barely noticeable sense of insecurity radiating from the assassin. for the first time in a good while.

toji’s eyes dart around the room in hopes of finding or seeing something that would remind him of what to do in such a situation. aftercare; he knew how important that is after sex, but had forgotten how to properly execute it. he hadn’t done so in a good few years.

that could also be an excuse. maybe he was simply afraid to show any kind of affection to someone again. maybe.

despite all of it — despite all those complex thoughts and feelings — his body moved on its own command. toji shifted closer to your side, rough hand slowly reaching out to give you some head pats. that’s the best he could do for now.

“heh.” you chuckle, yet felt extremely happy that toji had shown any type of affection toward you in such a vulnerable moment. his fingers massaging your scalp gently, over and over, was enough of a sign for you. a sign that he cares.

you knew all about his hard life; past and present. you accepted toji for who he was and what he has done and does. one of the only people who’d stay by his side throughout it all.

“thanks, toji.” the words that left your lips made the older man silently nod. his touch grew a bit more confident after your positive reaction. his hand traveled down to the nape of your neck and over to your shoulder, turning you around so you could lay comfortably on your back.

toji couldn’t help but let his eyes wander across your gorgeous skin. even if it was sweaty and covered in other bodily fluids, it still was one of the most beautiful sights he had seen in his entire life.

“you okay?” he asks to which you give a weary nod. she’s far from okay judging by the looks of it, toji thought to himself.

he hesitantly leans his head down to plant a quick kiss on your shoulder. that did feel a bit awkward, though it turned loving the more you positively reinforced him with your verbal reactions.

toji sighs as he tries his best to keep you as comfortable as possible around him. his hands grab you by your sides and he hoists you up onto his lap, gently pushing your head against his chest; “c’mere my little girl.”

you happily accept the affection toji gives you. it wasn’t often that he’d do this after sex and you understand why. it takes a lot to heal from his previous wounds and you were there to support him throughout that journey. the fact that he was trying was enough.

“you’re nice ‘n warm,” you murmur, eyes droopy as you snuggle against toji’s bare chest. the older man chuckles at your comment and his big hands come to rest on your back to hold you in place — to give you a sense of security.

you didn’t have any regrets about tonight nor about any other night spent in bed with him. toji was the only man whom you were content with showing your body to. he’d never judge nor hurt you in any way, unlike the other more immature men in your indirect environment.

plus, you remember how unexpectedly gentle the big and scary looking man was with you during your first time a few days back. he was the perfect man for you in your eyes—in his own way.

“y’r real pretty. like a doll.”

the sudden compliment forces you awake. you blink thrice, trying to make sense of what you had heard. was it your imagination? no, it definitely sounded like toji. that deep and now almost groggy voice.

you lift your head up and lock eyes with the assassin. he was looking right back at you whilst the pad of his thumb delicately wipes some drool off your right cheek. you quietly stared at him for a good while which makes toji raise an eyebrow in confusion.

“pfft.” you let out a short laugh. you were both embarrassed and amused at the loving words that the older man had told you out of the blue. it made you feel tingly all over in a good way.

“what? did i say somethin’ weird?” toji questions as his hands slowly roam all over your body like they usually would, squeezing and rubbing longer in some spots, “i jus’ said what i observed.”

there was no hiding that lopsided grin on toji’s lips. the soft sound of your laughter was enough to make his entire body relax and give in to the warmth of the moment and the love that radiates between you two. you really were meant to be with him.

“no, no.” you shake your head after giggling. your lips find a spot on his chest to place a kiss upon in response, “it was cute.”

toji huffs at being called cute. no one had ever called him that. it didn’t really hurt his pride or ego — you could call him anything you wanted to and he wouldn’t mind. his rough hand does however give you a light smack on the ass after that.

“y’re lucky i love you, doll.” he grumbles and nuzzles his nose into your hair. the words left his lips before his brain had processed them. it was probably said subconsciously since toji doesn’t realise that he uttered the three words. the three words he usually hesitates on saying now flowing off the tongue so naturally.

you weren’t going to ruin the moment by teasing him about it. you were just happy that toji didn’t think twice before telling you that he loved you this time. it was a huge step forward in your relationship.

you simply giggle some more before placing a kiss on his lips that he instantly reciprocates.

“i love you too, toji.”

[stsgluver]

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎��� 𝐏𝐓.𝟐 — gojo satoru

synopsis. another installment of the first years going through old videos of their teacher and his friends

wc. 4.1k

tags. gojo x reader, reader in the same class as gojo, ft. nanami and haibara

an. do I have any idea where im taking this? no. still think its cute though (let’s hope the next part doesn’t take me another couple of months 🤭)

previous part / next part / series masterlist

“good evening boys,” nobara burst into megumi and yuuji’s room. the former who was shocked awake from his nap and the latter who had two big bags of popcorn in either arm. he’d been waiting for an hour for the orange-haired girl, a bright grin on his face.

“you can’t just come into our room,” megumi grumbled, pulling his pillow over his head and rolling over in his bed. nobara and yuuji ignored his complaint, dragging both chairs in their room in front of yuuji’s desk. nobara set up the laptop whilst yuuji ran to nobara’s room to grab a third chair. after five minutes of rustling, their movie night was read.

“come sit all, it’s movie time!” the orange-haired girl said excitedly, pulling megumi’s comforter off of him. he sported his usual frown but sleepily complied nonetheless, dragging the blanket around his body as he sat next to yuuji (who then forced the dark-haired teen to share some of the blanket with him). 

“we’re in detention.” the screen opened up with you – hair pulled back into a ponytail as you wore your usual uniform. the three students could recognise the wall behind you as one of their own classes. 

“not our fault,” shoko added, fixing gojo’s glasses on the top of her head. the two of you spoke in hushed whispers, glancing towards the door where, presumably, yaga was on the other side. you had shoved your desk closer to shoko’s so it was basically one big desk and the camera was balanced in the middle.

“never is,” you pinched the bridge of your nose, shooting the person next to you a glare. 

shoko lightly shifted the camera so that geto could come into frame. he raised his hands up in surrender, “it’s not mine either.”

“satoru is getting yelled at by sensei right now,” you whisper shouted, pointing towards the door. if yuuji turned the volume up any louder, they’d be able to hear yaga yet again scolding gojo for another mistake he’d made on a mission – an order he’d probably disobeyed the more confident he grew in his own ability.

shoko frowned, throwing her hands up in exasperation, “he literally knows it was that idiot. why are we being punished?”

“maybe yaga thinks if we get annoyed at satoru he’ll stop,” geto reasoned with a sigh, as if though he wasn’t gojo’s partner in crime and equally as complicit when he entertained his antics. 

“no he won’t. he thinks by punishing us, satoru will have some epiphany about his actions impacting other people. like he thinks far enough ahead to come to that realisation,” you dropped your head down onto your desk. geto laughed quietly, giving you a ‘comforting’ pat on your shoulder.

shoko leant close to the camera, a sharp pencil in hand that she lightly jutted forward, “count your days, gojo satoru.”

the classroom door slid open and the camera was abruptly dropped as yaga walked in, a head of white hair only seconds behind. “is that a came–?” his voice was muffled and cut off quickly as the clip ended.

“bagsy my turn,” yuuji practically jumped from his seat, almost spilling the popcorn everywhere as his half off the blanket dropped from his lap. 

megumi grumbled at him as he grabbed the blanket and bag of popcorn from his excitable classmate. “oh no i was in such a rush,” he sarcastically quipped and nobara lightly nudged his shoulder.

gojo behaved as a god now, untouchable to all as he alone was the strongest. even though their teacher had never been anything but overtly childish, his cursed energy wasn’t something that could be ignored. seventeen year old gojo was as human as they come, lovesick and reckless and happy. the balance of the world was yet to be forced upon him. 

yuuji grinned as he sat back properly, having only taken a fraction of the time to find a video he wanted in comparison to their previous snooping session. taking back his bag of popcorn, he settled himself back under the blanket. “want some?” he offered megumi, who shook his head in response. “your loss.”

as per usual, it was shoko’s face up close and personal with the camera as she adjusted the lens and made sure that it was on and focused. once she was satisfied, she spun the camera so that it was facing nanami – yuuji could hardly contain himself at seeing his beloved teacher look so… not muscular and scary. small giggles filling the dorm room.

the two were in one of the tokyo classrooms, and sat on desks on opposing sides of the room. nanami had his head deep in a book that would probably kill any of his classmates from sheer boredom alone.

“who do you think the first of us to die will be?” shoko asked indifferently as nanami’s eyebrows furrowed and he slowly looked to his left with an unimpressed expression. even as a sixteen year old, he was set in his rigid mannerisms and beliefs and often saw his four seniors as pains in the ass. whilst you and shoko were definitely ranked higher in his list of people he could tolerate than gojo and geto, questions like this made him contemplate his future in jujutsu sorcery if this was who he was going to be working alongside.

“why are you asking me that?”

“answer,” shoko demanded, zooming in the camera on nanami’s face. his blonde hair was held neatly in his side parting and he looked like anyone but the nanami the students were familiar with. 

it looked like he was contemplating telling shoko she was odd, or completely blanking her and opting to finish his book, but the thoughtful silence was interrupted by a sudden thud outside of the classroom. their heads darted up to look at the door and peer through the open doorway into the hallway only to hear gojo’s faint ‘i’m okay!’. 

nanami let out a drawn out sigh, shaking his head. “him.”

“none of us!” haibara’s voice called out as he peered out of the classroom’s cupboard that he’d been reorganising (it had been gojo and geto’s job but they’d left it worse than when they’d arrived and he really didn’t want to get told off again by yaga). 

shoko eyed the camera in disbelief, not even trying to entertain the young teen’s impossible ideology. “you know the mortality rate of a sorcerer right?” she called back to haibara who didn’t falter in his cheeriness as he affirmed his point.

“and? geto and gojo are almost special grades already! you’ve got to have some faith in us,” he grinned, slipping his jacket back on as he finished up his tidying. his footsteps held a skip that the older students had lost – an innocence that was rarely allowed to exist in the jujutsu world. 

yuuji had stopped giggling at the younger appearances of the sorcerers he now knew because he didn’t know him. it was a reminder to the three that no matter how positive they remained against the hardships that would come, it wouldn’t matter. it was kill or be killed and one tiny little mistake, one movement a fraction of a second too late, was the difference between getting paid and coming home in a body bag. 

“lame,” shoko rolled her eyes. she tapped her twin twice as she pondered her own question before pointing at the blond opposite her, “my guess is nanami.” despite his disinterest in the question itself, he shot a look of offence to shoko who raised her free hand in surrender. “imagine this: you’re put on a mission with gojo. you’d ask the curse to kill you.”

“i’m getting killed by a curse?” the special grade in question peered into the classroom, glasses pushed up onto his head and revealing his renowned dazzling blue eyes. there was a small scratch on his cheek – presumably from whatever he’d hit into a few minutes prior.

“no, nanami is to avoid you.”

gojo gasped, one hand on the door frame and the other over his heart as he cried out that ‘that couldn’t be true’ and nanami was his ‘bestest bestie for life’. he only halted his dramatics when you and geto forced him out of the doorway so you could join the rest of your classmates.

you sat in your usual seat next to shoko and geto sat on top of your desk. gojo, on the other hand, remained at the door, jaw practically on the floor as he aggressively pointed at the annoyed blond. “guys, nanami is going to die so he doesn’t have to be friends with me, defend me!”

“at least one of us is brave enough to end our suffering,” geto teased, pinching the bridge of his nose with a grin as you lightly hit his arm, scolding him for entertaining gojo’s behaviour.

instead of giving the white haired sorcerer’s antics any more attention, shoko turned the camera so that it was only a couple of inches from your face. “who do you think will die first?”

“satoru,” you said in unison with geto, eliciting another gasp as gojo dropped onto the floor, faking death. 

when he didn’t get the sympathetic reaction he wanted, he abruptly sat up, pointing a finger directly at you and geto, “did we all just forget five minutes ago when i kicked your asses in training?”

“i’m literally a grade two sorcerer, what sort of flex is that mr i’m-practically-special-grade-please-worship-the-ground-i-walk-on?” you scoffed. the video ended a few moments later, cutting off laughter and satoru bickering with you. 

there was a brief moment of silence – mixed feelings towards what the three had just witnessed. of course it was fun to watch their teacher and his friends but death was a sobering event.

“megumi?” nobara gestured for him to take his turn on choosing their next video but he shook his head, cradling what remained of the bag of popcorn (he’d stolen it back after yuuji nearly spilled once he saw nanami).

“no thanks, you can take my go,” he offered and nobara grinned, worries set aside as she leant forward to find the next video. it was like watching a tv show but it was real life and she knew the characters.

yuuji tried to argue it should be his go – megumi did steal his popcorn after all – but megumi didn’t care enough to aid his argument and there was no way yuuji could overpower the orange-haired sorcerer without his support. nobara was a force to be reckoned with and yuuji was scared to make her mad. 

“is that the teacher from kyoto?” nobara asked after several moments of silently scrolling.

yuuji leaned forward to look at the thumbnail of the video she held the cursor over and in between two tall cherry blossom trees was utahime iori. “it is!” he said excitedly; he’d never seen her without the scar before.

the video opened with utahime running towards the camera from the pink trees. they were fully bloomed and in the background there were tourists taking photos.

“did you get a good picture? does my hair look okay?” utahime asked whoever was behind the camera. the questions were so mundane – the questions of teenage girls worried more about their social media than if they’d survive their next mission.

“yeah don’t worry it always does,” shoko’s voice was heard speaking. her hand appeared in the frame a moment later as she handed utahime back her phone. “here’s your phone.”

“you never say that to me,” you grumbled.

“take the hint,” shoko threw a handful of cherry blossom leaves at you and there was the sound of rustling as you tried to shake what you could out of your hair. 

“shoko ieiri!” you whined, followed by some incoherent threat and a complaint that you’d just had your hair done after some curse had ruined it the other week.

utahime picked up the camera, lifting it high up to show off the trees and bustling streets of tourists and commuters. “i thought we specifically didn’t bring gojo and geto to avoid childless arguments.”

“yn’s fault,” shoko countered, jumping away into the frame of the camera as you tried to hit her arm. she giggled, half behind utahime, “do you at least have gojo’s card?”

“you mean this gorgeous thing?” you appeared on the other side of utahime, sleek black card between your fingertips that you showed to the camera. “today is on him ladies.”

“you truly are taking one for the team being with him, i retract all earlier insults.” shoko held her hand out for a truce, bowing her head as you took her hand.

“i appreciate it, it’s not an easy task,” you dramatically wiped a fake tear away from the corner of your eyes. gojo had given you the card before you’d embarked on your monthly trip to the city, telling you that as long as you brought back a bag of sweets and kikufuku from that one cafe, he didn’t care what you spent.

you froze a moment later, a look of deep thought crossing your features, “can you guys hear that?”

“no,” utahime frowned, a look of concern as she glanced around at the crowd. if your day was about to be ruined by a curse, or worse yet, curse users–

“sounds like the card is saying we need to buy overpriced starbucks.” the three of you broke out into grins at the potential that the black card had given you.

“oh my god, you’re so right and wait,” shoko grabbed your wrist and brought the card close to her ear, “it needs cigarettes to be bought too.”

“shoko! you said you were quitting,” utahime nudged her and shoko blew her an apologetic kiss. the nicotine patches she’d bought to try and quit were still sealed and in a draw she hadn’t opened since she put them in there several weeks ago. quitting was nothing more than a fantasy considered once every blue moon.

“she’s a liar–”

“–and proud,” shoko finished your sentence with a nonchalant shrug.

“i wish sensei would give me his card for a day,” nobara said wistfully as the video ended, twisting a strand of her orange hair around her finger as she mentally plotted the order in which she’d go to all of the shops in tokyo. all she’d need was a full day – 9 to 5 – and she’d never have to shop another day in her life. 

“you’d max it out within an hour,” yuuji scoffed, scooping a handful of the popcorn into his mouth. nobara scrunched her nose up at him as he messily chewed down.

“actually it’s a lot harder than it would seem,” megumi noted.

nobara raised a brow at him – megumi and shopping? “you’ve tried?”

“we tried multiple times,” megumi spoke without much of a second thought. his jaw clenched slightly as he realised his mistake and the consequential curious eyes . pointing to the dark screen, he lightly elbowed the boy next to him’s side, “yuuji take your go quick before i kick kugisaki out so i can sleep.”

“welcome to yn’s kitchen- don’t touch that,” you whacked geto’s hand with a wooden spoon, stopping him from dipping his finger into the bowl of chocolate icing. the dark haired sorcerer cradled his ‘injured’ hand though it was comical to believe you’d actually done any damage – he was at least an entire six inches taller than you.

“today we made a cake,” you held your arms out in a jazz hands manner to show something that… resembled a cake? if the students squinted maybe they’d agree.

“for satoru’s birthday,” geto added, pulling out the big ‘18’ candles that would eventually be used. 

it was pretty obvious that neither of you had any real baking experience, but the thought was definitely there. the shape somewhat was cylindrical, only a small clump had chosen to stay in the pan and had to be ‘surgically’ glued back to the rest of the shape with a large scoop of nutella. you were hoping that the icing would disguise the bitterness of the burnt edges.

“taste it,” you smiled at the camera, shifting the plate towards geto like you were on some cooking show and that pile of sponge was something to be proud of.

geto pushed the plate back without any hesitation, “i don’t want to.”

“do it.”

“you do it.”

your smile dropped and you flashed geto a glare before composing yourself by clearing your throat. taking a deep breath, you broke off a tiny piece of the top layer of the cake, “so i’m now going to trial this small bit for research purposes.”

you barely had chewed twice before your mouth was scrunching up in disgust and you were disappearing off camera to find a bin to spit it out into.

geto, unfazed and unsurprised by your joint failure, picked up the spatula and began dolloping it onto the top of the cake.

“that’s horrendous-” you came back in view with a glass of water in hand. “what are you doing?”

“hiding that with icing,” he stated obviously.

“we’re still giving that to him?”

geto grinned, directly at the camera as he hoped gojo would find this video after he too ate this. “obviously we’re still giving it to him.”

“it’s weird,” yuuji hummed once the video ended, “those two were sensei’s closest friends and yet he doesn’t speak about either.”

“can you blame him? have you ever spoken to maki about the attack geto led against the school last year?” nobara pointed out and yuuji’s eyes widened as he’d nodded. maki was a woman of few words but when it came to yuta? she’d spend all day ranting about how much she disliked geto and that he’d gotten what was coming to him.

“my turn,” megumi placed the now empty bag of popcorn onto the floor as he scrolled and clicked on the first video that he could find. you weren’t a conversation he was ready to have yet – he could bearly speak to gojo about it, let alone the two loudest mouths in the school.

the video opened to the loud sound of the subway. shoko and geto were sat on one side whilst you and gojo on the other – with you holding up the camera as your beloved boyfriend stood up in the middle of the subway carriage.

“fit check!” gojo did a little spin, showing off his basic hoodie and baggy jeans that he wore almost every time the four snuck out of the high school – or in fact, did anything together for that matter. for someone so rich he really did not use his wealth to its full capacity.

after his little twirl and bow, he dropped back down next to you, looking over the camera into your eyes as he seeked your validation. “i look hot right?”

“you always look hot,” you flipped the camera to face yourself as you not-so-subtly-whispered, “his mum paid me to say that.” the students knew their teacher well enough to know that the dramatic gasp they heard was almost definitely followed by an overexaggerated display of anguish. your giggles and geto’s laughter only confirmed the conclusion.

“i think i need a kiss to recover. or i’ll spend the rest of my days as a ghost, heart broken and never able to leave this subway as i haunt it and all the other coup–” the lens view was obstructed by their teacher’s hoodie as you gave into his demands, cutting off his pathetic rant. 

a loud groan was heard from shoko as she snatched back the camera and held it up to her unimpressed face and geto gagging. “i prefer it when they’re broken up,” she grumbled. 

before megumi could interject and tell nobara to get out now (he didn’t care if yuuji teased him for his ‘need for beauty sleep’), the video ended and automatically opened onto the next one. his words were caught in his throat at the oh-so-familiar apartment.

“get that out of my face.” you were older now, only be a few years but there was a scar on your neck that hadn’t been there in any of the other videos. gojo’s laugh could be heard as he ignored your request and instead held it up high enough to capture you both in the frame.

“you don’t remember this old thing?” he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your forehead, securing you before you could duck away from him.

“we’re twenty one stop acting like we’re ancient,” you crossed your arms in front of yourself as you accepted that maybe just possibly you didn’t quite the match the strength of jujutsu’s strongest sorcerer.

“we may as well be. we’ve got two kids.”

your eyes widened and you shook your head, “we do not–”

“yn!” a small megumi appeared in the corner of the frame and you quickly shut up as gojo gave you an i-told-you-so look. “gojo said he’d help me with my maths homework. an hour ago.” 

the smugness almost instantly vanished from the sorcerers face as you glared at him for once again avoiding his responsibilities. because apparently there was more to looking after children than feeding them and taking them out for the day as a reward when they beat up bullies in school.

“i’m a busy man megumi, saving lives, helping–” gojo winced as you elbowed him in the side, allowing you to slip from his grasp.

“ignore him megs, let’s go into the living room,” you said, ushering the small boy out of the room. two years of this and you were surprised that megumi even still bothered to give gojo a chance to act his age.

“don’t take my sweets!” 

you halted megumi purposefully, “do you want gojo’s sweets?” the camera although kind of forgotten now, still had the young boy in view and picked up his smirk in full as he nodded.

“i’d love them.” gojo winced again, pretending like tears were about to start falling. as if though he couldn’t easily afford to replace anything they did eat by the thousands.

“perfect,” you exaggerated in a condescending tone. as the amazing parent that you were, you made sure not to forget about the other child that was staying with you. “tsu! do you want a treat?”

“yeah!”

“even better,” you clapped your hands together and gestured for megumi to continue on into the living room again. “have fun with your camera love. i’m very busy adulting here.”

“this isn’t over,” the white haired sorcerer shook his head, betrayal clear on his features.

you mouthed the words ‘i love you’, blowing him a little kiss as you disappeared around the corner. gojo gave you a fake grin, narrowing his eyes at the camera.

“jokes on them, i pay the bills. no more electricity for them.”

“you were so cute!” yuuji practically squealed as he and nobara jumped up 

“your hair was so spiky!” nobara reached out to poke at his less bold spikes that he sported nowadays. they had earnt him his nickname of ‘sea urchin’ but still couldn’t beat his younger hairdo.

“can we meet her?” yuuji asked, the poor boy having been oblivious to any of the social cues that nobara already had. nobara coughed at his request, eyes flicking between the two boys.

megumi shook his head. “i think that’s enough for tonight. please, kugisaki,” he nodded his head towards the door. the girl gave him a quick salute, completing her secret handshake with yuuji before she grabbed the laptop and disappeared from their dorm back to her own.

the dark haired student ignored yuuji’s complaints as he dropped himself back onto his bunk bed, reaching for his phone. upon opening his messages, he scrolled to a contact and pressed on the chat. 

all of the messages displayed on the screen were sent from him to the unknown contact. there was never a response, or even a read message. just ‘delivered’. he knew that if he scrolled up it would be much the same. the last message he’d ever received was one on his 14th birthday; a simple ‘happy birthday. i love you. i’m sorry’.

hi. we miss you. i hope you’re doing okay.

taglist. @thefictionalcharacterssimp @hana-patata @mor-pheus @leathairs @sh0ek0 @maliakealoha @levisteeacup @g-kleran @stevenknightmarc @n1kimura @darliingyu @saturn-alone @splxtscreen @leah-rose03 @rinshoe @laurenzitaa @patricia142lilian @sabo-has-my-heart @wooasecret @dahliawarner @kysrion @dreamerdeity @mwah-chia @geromiegerald @arminsarlerts

[eddywoww]

I’m such a sucker for ill timed kink discovery

I’m talking about Steve Has A Hair Pulling kink but doesn’t really know it. He’s always really liked when people play with his hair but

He gets close to Eddie. Because Eddie gets close to Robin and they have a bond that doesn’t make sense to Steve and he’s a little jealous over it but whatever, fine. It takes a few months for Steve to really warm up to Eddie.

And then it’s over.

They start cuddling. Only, it’s not cuddling? It isn’t. Steve just gets high with Robin and Nancy and Jonathan and Eddie and everyone is so nice and so chill and things aren’t weird like they used to be. So Steve relaxes, splays his feet out in Robin’s lap as he lays his head in Eddie’s lap. It’s a first and Eddie definitely freezes for a good few seconds when Steve does it but he lets it happen

He doesn’t touch Steve the first time.

He touches him the second time. When they’re all hanging out and the lights are low and Steve does it again and Robin only halfway gives him a weird look. It doesn’t stop Steve form blinking tired eyes up at Eddie, watching the way he gulps and hovers a hand over Steve’s face.

“I like when people pet my hair,” He says unhelpfully, so high he can barely concentrate. Eddie makes a soft noise and blinks down at him. “You should- you should do that.”

Eddie doesn’t hesitate for long, his fingers carding through. Touching the scalp, nails catching.

It’s the first time Steve has ever broken out into goosebumps over something so simple.

And then it becomes a habit. Steve falls asleep in Eddie’s lap and it becomes a habit because Eddie can’t seem to stop and Steve can’t seem to stop him. So he sits in front of Eddie whenever he can. Lays all over him, high or not.

One day, it all goes to shit. He’s high again, head placed in Eddie’s lap. Ignoring whatever movie they’re watching in the dark. Eyes closed and mind drifting as Eddie pets him. Steve isn’t sure how his hands never get tired but he isn’t complaining.

Robin screams at an ill timed jump scare and of course, of course. The universe loves to mock Steve. Eddie’s hand clenched reflexively and he pulls, PULLS at Steve’s hair. Sudden and hard. Just yanks from the root and-

Steve feels it like a shock collar. Like a bolt of lightning. Right into his scalp, a shiver that works its way down his body. He’s half hard before he can really do anything about it. And of course he had to panic. What else can he do but bolt upright and off the couch? Stumbling toward the nearest bathroom before anyone can think much of it? Mumbles off an excuse about being dizzy.

Eddie is at the door once Steve gets out. Once he splashes his face with cold water and tries to wills away his sudden boner and WHY the FUCK he would get one in the first place. Past the whole “maybe I like guys” thing that he’s been ruminating on since freshmen year.

Eddie is so sweet to him, worried that Steve really got too high. He’s even ready with a bottle of water. It’s painful and it makes Steve feel even worse.

It isn’t supposed to happen again but it does. Yes, it does. The next time Steve gets high, he tries not to sit next to Eddie. They’re at the trailer this time. But Steve is Steve and high Steve loves attention. So he ends up laying all over Eddie again, eyes drifting shut.

It’s Eddie’s fault this time.

His fingers drift far into chestnut locks. Sinking deep, deeper than usual. Just to clench up and pull. It’s light, almost unnoticeable. But it’s enough for Steve’s eyes to pop open again. To look up at Eddie in wonder, mouth open on a silent noise. And Eddie is looking back, watching Steve with a deer in headlights expression. He goes “Huh.” Like he just figured something out, like he just solved a problem.

Steve should have seen it as a warning.

He also should have stopped using Eddie as a jungle gym.

The third time is even worse. Because they both know now, don’t they? But neither of them will talk about it. No, that would be too much.

Eddie pats his lap like an invitation and no one even thinks it’s weird. Steve doesn’t care if they do. He looks forward to these weekly movie nights more than ever now.

Robin isn’t on their couch tonight. She hasn’t given any inkling that she knows what’s going on but she probably suspects Steve has a crush. She won’t mention it, not yet. He loves that about her.

And Eddie. Eddie doesn’t even watch the movie, he watches Steve. As he plays with his hair, lips quirking when he finally wraps a strand around one finger and tugs at it and Steve’s back arches the tiniest bit and his blood drains south and he’s got his nails in the soft fabric of Jonathan’s couch.

“There you go,” Eddie whispers, just the tail end of some sort of praise and- and Steve can’t really take that, can he? He bites his bottom lip to try and hide the whine that wants to escape. Rubs his face against Eddie’s thigh. Feels the hard outline of his cock, so close to Steve’s face. Fuck. “I knew it.”

He knew it, he knew it. Fuck.

Nothing happens. Steve goes home with wide eyes and flushed cheeks and a stupid amount of horniness. Eddie smiles like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

The final time is the straw that breaks the camels back.

Steve sits at Eddie’s feet on the floor of his trailer. The rest of them are smoking but Steve isn’t this time. Doesn’t want to, doesn’t need it. Not when Eddie already has a hand in his hair and Steve feels boneless and wow, this is just normal now, isn’t it?

There’s little to no pretense once the lights go down. And the night is terrible and great in equal measure. Steve is so hard it hurts, head leaned back and eyes closed. Waiting for Eddie to give in and pull his hair again. He won’t do it. He won’t just-

Not until everyone leaves. Not until Robin rolls her eyes and huffs something like ‘finally’ on her way out.

Eddie pulls Steve into his lap and their lips meet and- and he grabs two fistfuls of hair and pulls hard. Hard enough for Steve to let out a groan that is embarrassingly loud. Loud enough that he hopes everyone is really gone.

Steve discovers a stupid little kink and Eddie gets a preppy little boyfriend.

[toournextadventure]

when you love it

Summary: When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it - Caitlyn Siehl

Word Count: 6.3k Warnings: swearing, injury mention, suggestive themes, blood mention, hurt no comfort (hopeful ending), extreme guilt Pairing: Wenclair x Vampire!Reader (part 2)

“We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty on the charge of murder in the first degree.”

Your fangs caught on your lip as you did your best not to smile. With the slightest turn of your body, you patted your client on the shoulder and congratulated him for getting off on murder. He was guilty as sin. You could practically smell the tainted blood coursing through his veins. It was abysmal; he was a horror to work with. Doubtless he would be murdered before he even left the courthouse.

His money was still just as good as anyone else’s.

The judge continued his usual spiel, the one you personally had heard many times over. Something about understanding the severity of the charges, how one must persevere to become more, to prevent such a situation from occurring again. She was getting much more emotional about the speech, putting more of a motherly spin on it. It was a lovely touch.

It wouldn’t work. But it was lovely.

“Don’t get yourself in too much trouble,” you said once the judge was finished and you could shake your client’s hand.

His smile was sinister. “I’ll be calling on you again.”

You made sure to show your fangs in your own smile. “I’ll be expecting it.”

The man gave you the creeps, more so than most of the clients you represented. Which was precisely why you allowed your shadow to escort him out of the courthouse to the freedom he had unjustly earned. You watched as he left with a smile that betrayed your actual thoughts.

If he called again, your rates would double.

“You did your job masterfully.”

You turned around, watching people continue to mill out of the courtroom. No one was facing you, not even the usual suspects. Even your best friend Detective Faus had already left. There was no one left to talk or discuss the events of the case. A pity.

Maybe it had been another hallucination; they were more frequent this time of year. Sounds of blood spilling, pouring down your throat like the first drink at the bar. The door opening, muffled words, wood splintering. The sounds made themselves known in your mind, drowning out everything else around you.

“Looking for someone in particular?”

No. No, that was no hallucination. You looked down to see a young man no older than 20 - though his spectacular mustache looked a bit old for him - standing beside you. It was no wonder you hadn’t noticed him, he was rather short. With a stunning crop of slicked back raven black hair, he reminded you of someone. Someone you did your best to forget.

“Thank you, mister…,” your voice trailed off.

“Pubert Addams,” he said with a charming smile as he held out his hand toward you. “Lovely to make your acquaintance.”

A wet gasp-

-a snarl-

-relief-

-pain-

“-A pleasure, Mr. Addams,” you said, grasping his hand as gently as you possibly could. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long while.”

“I believe you knew my sister and her wife in college, did you not?” He asked as he let go of your hand.

A breathy moan-

-airy laughter-

-a warm sigh-

“-Quite a long time ago,” you said, “but yes.”

“Yes, I knew it was you,” he said with a smile that was far too familiar. Eerily so. “Are you free for a short while?” He asked. “I have a proposition for you.”

You sighed and shifted the weight to your good leg. It left an ache that rarely eased, though certainly not for lack of trying. Thanks to the glasses, you were confident your distrust was hidden. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust the young Addams boy; he seemed decent enough. You had worked with enough sleazy people to know who to trust and who to be wary of.

There was just the little problem of not wanting anything to do with an Addams.

Though, you supposed you could give the boy the benefit of the doubt. After all, what would it hurt? If he was anything like Wednesday - and it was beyond clear he was - he would love the danger. The thrill of propositioning you would far outweigh the danger of having you near. A brave boy.

Just like his older sister.

“I suppose I have time,” you finally said with a toothy grin. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Oh, I’m not old enough to drink,” he said quickly as he fell into step beside you. Exactly like his sister.

“A coffee then,” you amended.

He had no objections.

His hands were shoved into his pockets as he walked out of the courtroom with you. The stench of rancid blood filled your senses before you saw the commotion outside. Your client’s body lay sprawled along the steps, his blood flowing from the tips of his fingers; no one dared try to stop the bleeding. At the bottom, the police were shoving the victim’s brother into their cruiser.

“An eye for an eye turns the whole world blind,” Mr. Addams said with a shake of his head.

You didn’t dare hide your smile. “A beautiful sentiment.” You continued to walk past the scene, not looking back to see if Mr. Addams was following.

His footsteps quickened their pace to match yours before he stood beside you once again. It was a short, silent walk to the little cafe you had started to call your own. The barista was a wonderful young girl; she had easily fallen victim to the vampire charm you did your best not to throw around. Though you were a little less careful nowadays, but that was your little secret.

“What can I get for you, sugar?” The young waitress asked once you sat down. She, too, had fallen victim to your supernatural charm.

“A quad?” You asked once Mr. Addams sat across from you at the little table in the corner.

“Heavens no,” he said with his own charming smile, “I’ll take a mocha, thank you.”

“An espresso, darling,” you said with a smile at the waitress.

Her cheeks flushed. “I’ll have it for you in a moment.”

You tried not to mention your surprise at the young Addams going against what his older sister had made seem like tradition. Or perhaps she had changed over the years; it was a possibility she had come to enjoy the sweeter things in life. After all, Enid certainly did, so it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. She always had been a lovestruck fool for Enid.

So were you.

You promptly ignored the thought.

“What is your proposition, Mr. Addams?” You asked as you continued to wait for your drinks.

“Ah, of course,” he said. He cleared his throat and sat up straight. “I would like to invite you to a soiree we happen to be hosting.”

“I’m nothing but a stranger to you,” you said simply. “What about me warrants an invitation?”

“My sister and her wife still talk of you,” he said. “Incessantly.” His smile was gentle; genuine. “I believe inviting you would make them happy.”

You didn’t grace that thought with a reply. If they still talked of you, that was their issue. Wednesday was certainly psychotic enough to desire your presence. Enid, also, could certainly be delusional enough. Seeing you again should bring them no sense of joy or peace; if anything, it should cause nightmares.

It didn’t matter that you often found yourself thinking of them in return. When you talked with clients who had a penchant for breaking the law, much like Wednesday. Committing their crimes guiltlessly for one reason or another. There was a difference in that Wednesday always had a good reason - even when you tried to make her believe she didn’t - but that could be easily overlooked when her cold brown eyes appeared in your mind.

And Enid was often seen in the young intern at your firm. Possessing a giddiness that was so often lost in people. Her colourful nails that you had been unable to forbid were like a flash of the past. The only difference was those nails were typing away at a computer instead of leaving scratches along your back. It was difficult, on occasion, to differentiate the two.

The waitress set the drinks on the table, giving you a wink and smile in the process. You smiled back, showcasing your fangs as she turned and walked back to the counter. If Mr. Addams hadn’t accompanied you, you would have flirted with the woman. Flashed a bit of cash, invited her home for a quick drink of your own before sending her back on her way.

You stirred your espresso for no good reason. At least it gave you time to think of your answer. Mr. Addams was gracious enough not to push. A wonderful change of pace from Wednesday, who would push until she regretted it. Which she had. Oh, she had, and you had all suffered for it.

There was no way you could tell Mr. Addams why you wanted to decline his invitation. If you even so much as hinted at the carnage you had caused, there was a high probability he would not only rescind his offer, but paint you as the monster you had already claimed for yourself. With good reason, of course, you hadn’t earned the title by sitting around.

On the other hand, just the mere thought of seeing Enid and Wednesday made your dead heart feel alive again. You had done your best to fill your nights with women. One after the other, never keeping them long enough to even learn their names. Each a new attempt to forget the two women who had taken your heart all those years ago. They never filled the hole; if anything, they made it bigger.

Perhaps…

“When is this little soiree of yours taking place?” You asked with a sigh, finally looking up from your espresso.

Now that smile was identical to his sister’s.

“I’ll fetch you the invitation.”

—---

You stood on the balcony of your apartment. Smoke curled around your fingers as the cigarette rested between them. The heat from the lit end was almost unbearable on your skin; it was a welcome feeling. City lights twinkled around you, creating constellations yet unnamed by the human race. Perhaps one day they would be prominent enough to fit in with the constellations of old.

It was the night before the soiree at the Addams residence. You had done your best to remain in control of your emotions the days leading up to it. Hell, you had even gone so far as to hire a few women just a few hours earlier to keep your thirst in check. You would rather receive a stake to the heart than risk another incident like the one that had created this situation in the first place.

And yet, even with all your preparations, you still couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom that had carved a home into the center of your chest.

The balcony door slid open.

“You coming back, baby?” The woman asked.

It was a shame you didn’t remember her name.

“Come on, baby,” she said, and you felt warm arms wrap around your waist. “I know you want another drink.”

You did. God you did. Just the thought of another drink left your throat searing. You tried to swallow, but all it did was burn like liquid fire trickling down your throat. With a sigh, you lifted the cigarette back to your lips and inhaled. If you were going to be in pain, you may as well finish off your cigarette.

“I’ll be there in a moment,” you said with an exhale that left smoke falling from your lips.

The warmth left your waist as she went back inside, and you heard her talking to… the… other woman. God, you really needed to learn the names of the people you drank from. If anything, it was the least you could do; it was polite. But you didn’t particularly care. All you knew was they weren’t Enid, and they weren’t Wednesday.

You were pathetic.

You took one more drag of your cigarette, feeling the heat burn the skin on your knuckles. The thick smoke left the taste of ash on your tongue and did nothing to ease the scorching pain in your throat. You dropped the cigarette butt to the ground and stepped on it with your heel. You hissed when it singed your heel; you had forgotten you were barefoot.

If you had possessed any sort of soul, you would have felt guilt. There was something tugging on your invisible heart strings, begging you to care about the women you were surrounding yourself with. No, that wasn’t accurate. It wasn’t something tugging at your heart strings; it was two voices that had haunted you for years.

They single handedly ruined your night. With no shame and no clue that they had even done so, they had ruined it. The women around you weren’t the right women. Their skin was soft, but it wasn’t the same. Their freckles were in the wrong spots, and their nails and hair were the wrong colour. Each and every moan was the wrong tone, and these women just weren’t right.

It was a struggle, but by the time the night was over, you had more than gotten your fill. There was no possible way you would still be thirsty by the time you made it to the Addams residence. Though that didn’t stop you from grabbing a blood bag from the fridge and tucking it into your pocket before you left your apartment.

You stopped by the mirror in your hall to make sure you looked alright. It was custom made to not contain any silver, allowing you to see at least a semblance of your reflection. It wasn’t perfect, but it was like looking at someone through water. A little blurry, slightly distorted, but you could tell it was a person.

Your eyes were drawn to the dark scars that weren’t entirely hidden by your shirt collar. The majority of the scars were hidden, but not those. They were a stark contrast on your neck; a stark reminder of your monstrosity. Subconsciously, you lifted your hand to run your fingers over the taut flesh. They still ached.

Teeth ripping through flesh. You could hear the blood pumping from the wounds, pouring out over your hands as you tried desperately to stop the flow. Your own blood cascaded down your throat, erasing any satisfaction you had previously received.

You could still smell the blood. It made your mouth water.

You still wanted more.

You recoiled as if burned. Out of all the times you could have that memory, this wasn’t the optimal day. It didn’t require any consideration before you walked back to the fridge and grabbed a second bag, placing it right beside the first within your jacket. You had one shot; you weren't going to blow it.

It was a beautiful day outside as you approached the Addams mansion. The sky was overcast, almost allowing you to take your glasses off. Not that you would have, but it would have been a nice option to have. Large groups of people made their way up the steps and into the mansion. It truly was a stunning building; you had missed it.

You fell into the back of a group, ensuring you were silent and could walk in unnoticed. Yes, of course someone would notice eventually, but you wanted a chance to settle back into the excessively large house. The smell of the slightly-rotting wood was enough to ease your racing pulse. It smelled like home.

While everyone continued to slowly make their way into the ballroom, you went the opposite direction. Your hand trailed against the walls, maneuvering around each and every item that was hanging. The paintings and knick knacks and more recent looking photos. Some were new, or at least newer than you. They certainly hadn’t been hanging on the wall the last time you had visited.

The idle chatter of the crowd started to fade the further you went.The hallway turned into a slightly larger room filled with framed photos and awards. You let your fingers hover over the nameplates on the awards. Spelling Bee, First Place. A smile tugged at your lips as you moved on. Silver, Figure Skating. Down and down the line, you looked at award after award. There were names underneath, but you didn’t waste your time looking at them.

After the awards were the photos. You picked up the first one with gentle hands; a wedding photo deserved care. It was no surprise to see Wednesday in black and Enid in something so bright it was almost blinding. The image alone had your chest aching. They looked rather happy.

Their happiness didn’t distract you from the scars down the side of Enid’s face. The ones that traveled from the corner of her eyes to her jaw. Based on the colour in the photo, they were freshly healed. You couldn’t see Wednesday’s; she had a black lace wrapped around her wrist. From the look of Enid’s, you could imagine.

You set the frame back down on the table and stepped back. The curiosity had disappeared, quickly replaced with something heavy. With a tight chest, you backed out of the room and made your way to the ballroom with everyone else. The slight limp in your step worsened. A sigh fell from your lips as you had to lean against the wall and reach down to tighten the brace. Your jaw clenched almost painfully as the brace became insufferably tight around your leg, but at least it gave you the ability to stand on your own once again.

Until you were nearly knocked over by children running down the hall.

“Excuse me!” One of them called back. A chorus of the same words were quick to follow as the other children ran after the first.

“Behave!” You froze. “And don’t push people!”

“Yes ma’am!” The children shouted.

If you had known you would have such a visceral reaction just to her voice, you wouldn’t have accepted the invitation. You had no idea your body itself would react to her voice. If you could sweat, you would have been. Your fingers twitched. Don’t turn, your mind told you. Begged, even. Desperate, feral, pathetic.

“Cara mia.” You forced yourself to take a step. “You forgot your shawl upstairs.”

Don’t turn around, your mind said. It was frantic. You forced another step. And another. Each one heavier than the last, as if your body was fighting with your mind. You truly were a fool to accept the invitation, and there wasn’t even a word to describe yourself for actually daring to appear. Stupid. That was the best word.

“Are you a vampire?”

You sighed and took a moment to calm your emotions before looking down. One of the children that had been running around was now standing beside you, looking up at you with bright eyes and a cocked head. It reminded you of- no, you wouldn’t think of that. You turned to face the child and shifted your weight to rest on your good leg.

“I am,” you said with a singular nod of your head. “And you are?”

“Oh,” they said with a smile. A large, wolfish smile. “I’m an Addams.”

You were thankful they couldn’t see your eyes. “Charmed.”

Of course they were an Addams. How could you ever think differently? The Addamses were magnets for trouble, and you didn’t have to know the child to deduct that they were, in fact, trouble. You turned away from them and looked back out into the ballroom.

“My mothers have a picture of you on their nightstand,” the child continued.

You wished they would leave.

“But you have scars, and the person in their picture doesn’t.”

You would have no shame in killing a child.

“My momma has scars too.” It would be simple. “They almost match yours.”

“Don’t harass the guests, dear.” 

Or perhaps you would simply kill yourself. It would certainly be less painful than whatever was about to happen. You could hear the echo of your dead heart beating loudly in your ears. Perhaps if you refused to turn around, she would continue walking. Walk right past you and into the crowd, leaving you behind as you so very much deserved.

But she didn’t continue walking as you desperately wished she would. She didn’t move out into the crowd, saying her greetings to the others as was customary. You could barely hear her footsteps at all above the incessant noise that you were wishing would get louder. Drown out all the thoughts and emotions bubbling up inside you.

“We weren’t sure you would come.”

You still refused to turn around. Even when you felt her sidle up next to you, her arm brushing lightly against yours. Oh, her warmth was glorious. You had forgotten just how lovely it was to feel her warming you up. To bring life to your soul in a way that only she was capable of. No amount of women in your bed had ever held a candle to her warmth.

“You look good.” Her voice was impossibly soft against the rising chaos of the soiree.

Growls and screaming echoed in your mind’s ear as you finally made the brave - or stupid - decision to turn your head. If you had thought your anxiety was bad before, you would have been impressed with your anxiety at that moment. The first thing your eyes took notice of were the healed, lightly coloured scars on her jaw.

The scars you had caused.

“You look healthy,” Enid said with a soft smile.

She looked so very grown. That childish glint in her eyes was still present, but she held herself with far more respect. The insecurity had long faded away, much like the scars that continued down her neck. The child was right; you almost matched.

“I fed before arriving,” you said. Your words felt like ash in your mouth. “No need for history to repeat itself.”

“We have more in the kitchen,” she said quickly. “If you need it.”

You opened your coat to show the two bags in the pocket. “I came prepared, thank you.”

She smiled a closed mouth smile and nodded before looking back out at the ballroom. That heavy feeling settled in your chest once again. After so many years, that was all you had to say to her? That you had fed already? Of course, that was probably the one thing she wanted to hear after so long. You were a fool. A damned fool.

“I hope the kids weren’t bothering you,” Enid said. “They get excited when we host gatherings.”

“They seem decent,” you said. Decent?? That’s the best you can come up with? “That one-” you pointed to the one with the bright eyes “-is rather talkative.”

Enid giggled, and for a moment, you felt young again. “Willa says she gets it from me.”

Willa. You could have laughed if it didn’t hurt so bad. Wednesday had always attempted to claim she hated it. Yet it never stopped the lightest blush on her cheeks when you or Enid would use the unassuming nickname. When was the last time you had even heard it?

Come on, Willa, put it down, I’m being serious.

You turned your body ever so slightly. You didn’t want Enid to see the scars creeping down your neck. Her hand brushed against yours. It was shameful how quickly you pulled your hand back, shoving it into your pocket. No good could come from her feeling the shake of your hand, or the scars that hid below the cloth of your clothes.

“Oh, there she is,” Enid said, this time reaching out to grab your arm a little harder than she probably meant to. “Stay right here, I’ll bring her over!”

The moment she left your side, the cold started to crawl back over your skin. It sunk into every vessel, every inch of your body, both inside and out. Attending the soiree was a mistake. A mistake that you couldn’t take back. Just like that night. Perhaps it wasn’t too late. You could leave before they came back and continue your miserable existence as you had been.

But then you saw them together, hand in hand. It was an unexpected thing to see Wednesday practically smiling at Enid. In public, that was. You couldn’t recall a single time she had smiled at anything in public. Yet there she was, walking closer and showing some semblance of physical affection in public. It was stunning. Your heart was almost beating.

Until your eyes landed on all the black lace that you knew covered scars no one could comprehend.

“I told you I saw them,” you heard Enid say as they both approached where you were frozen in place. “And I was right.”

Wednesday looked up at you with those stunning brown eyes. “So you were.”

Your fingers twitched in your pocket. Now that she was so close, you could smell her blood flowing through her veins. No matter how much you swallowed, you couldn’t ease the burn that was rising up your throat. You clenched your jaw tight, ignoring the sting of your fang piercing your lip.

Wednesday!

You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? “Hello Wednesday, I’m sorry for nearly draining you while you attempted to prove I wasn’t a monster.” Or even to Enid. “I apologise for trying to kill you when you stopped me from killing our girlfriend.” There was nothing you could say, to either of them, to justify what you had done. What you couldn’t forget.

“I told them you had their picture,” the previous child said as they approached along with the rest of the herd.

For the first time, you were thankful for children.

“So you told our secrets?” Wednesday asked. “You know what happens to those who tell our secrets.”

The old Wednesday would have sounded more intimidating and borderline threatening. Yet, even as her words said one thing, the soft look on her face said another. The children all smiled and tried to hide their laughter as they continued to look up at her.

“You’d better run,” Enid whispered.

Each of the children shared a look before running off, laughter following in their wake. It was almost… cute? Adorable, even? God, you needed to escape this place, you were almost turning soft. You needed to get back to your murderers and criminals, this was turning pathetic.

“As intimidating as ever, my love,” Enid said as she leaned down and placed a soft chaste kiss on Wednesday’s cheek.

It made you sick. The burn in your throat spread, turning into a searing pain in your chest and stomach. All that was left was the tingling in your fingers and legs and you were finished. You wished the inferno would swallow you whole, reducing you to nothing more than ash and bone.

“You seem pale,” Wednesday said.

It seemed you wouldn’t combust soon enough.

“I only arrived out of courtesy,” you said as you stood taller. “Now that I have said my hellos, I must say my goodbyes.”

You tried to act like the looks on Enid’s and Wednesday’s faces didn’t kill you inside. It was like a silver stake to the heart, spreading its carnage down every muscle fiber and blood vessel. After all these years, you had managed to hurt them again within only a few moments. And you didn’t even possess the decency to apologise for the first sleight against them.

“Do you have to?” Enid asked. “You could stay.” Her eyes fell. “We could talk.”

“Did Enid tell you we have more blood in the fridge?” Wednesday asked.

She circled her fingers around her lace-covered wrist.

“I don’t do house calls,” you said. You could hear Wednesday’s pulse over the crowd. “Especially with those I cannot pay penance to.”

And yet, you didn’t make a single move. Against your better wishes, your feet stayed glued to the floor. Each beat of Wednesday’s heart was enough to have your mouth salivating, yet you couldn’t leave. A memory popped into your head of Enid almost seeming disappointed that her blood wasn’t appetising to you. It was a fond memory, one you replayed often enough for it to seem like a core memory of your relationship.

“You could stay,” Enid said.

“We can go somewhere quieter,” Wednesday continued.

You didn’t want to go somewhere quiet, you wanted to go home. You internally scoffed at the word; you didn’t live in a home. It was just a building, with four walls and a new blood bag or two every night. You barely lived in it, instead opting to spend all your time in your office where nothing could remind you of the two women standing in front of you.

They were your home.

“Please?” Enid asked softly. Almost too softly. Even with your enhanced hearing you could barely discern the words over the jazz band that had started playing.

You sighed. Would it truly hurt to spend a few moments with them? To give you some semblance of normalcy that only they could provide? After all, you could see the muscles underneath Enid’s skin. If you truly lost control, surely she could stop you. She had stopped you before.

The scars reminded you of it every day.

“Very well,” you said with a slight nod.

Enid was the one to reach out and grab your hand, pulling it out of its pocket and linking her fingers with yours. Her nails dug into the back of your hand, drawing out a sting that was a welcome distraction. The ache in your throat was ever present as Wednesday walked right beside you while Enid led you out of the ballroom.

The hustle and bustle of the ballroom slowly faded into oblivion as you were led down the corridors of the Addams mansion. You could recall memories from each room you passed. Each with their own story to tell. Stories of stolen kisses, scandalous rendezvous, silent moments with the women you loved, but together and separate.

When Enid stopped in the kitchen, you would have laughed had it been under any other circumstance. It was clear they had the same thoughts on their minds when Enid sat you down and Wednesday retrieved a blood bag from the fridge. She placed it between you and her when she sat opposite you at the table.

How comical.

They both stared at you with unwavering gazes. What was going through their minds, you wondered. Were they feeling the same way you had? Broken, anxious about fucking up, convinced you had blown your chance? Or perhaps they were waiting for you to break and recreate what had happened on that fated night all those years ago.

You sighed when you deduced they wouldn’t speak first.

“You both look well,” you said in a croaky voice that, if they were wise, was indicative of the state of your instincts. Think of something else to say. “Are all those children yours?”

Think of something less ridiculous.

“Yes they are,” Wednesday said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was almost condescending; you loved it.

“Pubert said you’re a lawyer?” Enid asked.

“Defence attorney,” you said with a nod, “yes.”

“Is it, ah, fun?” She asked.

You sighed. If the entire night was going to go along those lines - awkward and uncomfortable, tip toeing around every word - you would rather leave. Not a single positive thing could come from such a conversation. It was talking for talking sake. You all hated small talk, that was something that you knew had never changed, yet there you were, struggling to find any sort of conversation.

“It’s acceptable,” you said before placing both palms on the table. “I believe I really should be getting on.”

You attempted to push yourself up from the seat. Attempted being the key word. It wasn’t often your bad knee would buckle when standing; usually reserved for long nights in your office where you had barely managed to take bathroom breaks. Yet when you pushed yourself up, you felt the strain in your knee. It was a familiar feeling, that weakness before a painful tightness that so often forced you back into your seat.

And it did. Your grip on the table meant nothing as your knee shook for a nanosecond before giving out underneath you. Thankfully the gasp never actually left your lips. You could taste the copper in your mouth as you bit your tongue in an effort to stay silent. In the end, your entire leg trembled.

Enid and Wednesday stood up quickly, knocking their chairs back and watching your every move. You wished they would come to you; you were glad they didn’t. The looks on their faces was terrifying enough. Identical looks to the ones they had had that night.

“Wednesday, put it down,” you said when she refused to remove the knife from her hand.

“Your fears of being a monster are unwarranted,” she said as she gripped the blade tighter. “You wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

She had barely broken the skin before the scent hit you. It had been months since you had fed, and she had broken the floodgates. Everything about her disappeared except for the small drop of blood pooling at the bottom of her hand.

You didn’t feel yourself practically jumping toward her. You didn’t hear her gasp when you ripped the knife from her hand. You didn’t see the look on her face as you licked up the blood on her palm, or when you moved up her hand to bite the pulse point on her wrist.

But you tasted the nectar that flowed through her veins. You felt the strong pulse beneath your lips. You felt the scorching hot blood falling down your chin before you simply couldn’t keep up with the flow. Something vaguely pushed against your neck, but it was little more than a nuisance. All you knew was the blood in your mouth and the warmth on your lips.

Vaguely, you heard something. A scream, a growl, something breaking, you couldn’t tell the difference. It was nothing compared to the relief you were getting. How could you care about something in the outside world when you had such a delicious-

-something solid slammed into your body. The skin underneath your lips vanished, replaced by the cold air around you. When your body stopped rolling, you could feel the aches already starting to form. It didn’t matter. You zeroed in on Wednesday’s wrist again.

You were met with what felt like a truck slamming into your leg. Bones cracked, stretching the tendons and muscles with the new direction they were facing. It wouldn’t hold any weight when you tried to stand up. No matter; that was why you had two legs.

Something large and furry stepped in between you and Wednesday. Nothing about it was familiar in that moment. Instinct told you it was nothing but an obstacle in the way of your feed. It charged, and you swiped. Your fingers clipped something even as you felt its claws rake across your skin.

You tried to stand. Something sharp crossed your chest; the air was cold on your skin. When you stood up again, it was met with similar results. The third attempt got you closer to Wednesday. When something sharp clasped around your shoulder and threw you back to the ground, you stilled.

That hot blood you had gorged yourself on started to feel hot on your neck. Not in it, on it. You opened your mouth to speak and felt the liquid spew from your lips, falling down your face in all directions. Your hand lifted to the side of your neck. Your fingers pushed past the skin and then-exposed muscle.

As you pushed harder on the wounds, doing your best to staunch the flow of blood, the world started to come back to you. Blackness peeled back from your vision. The blurry world started to come into focus along with the sounds that you could finally discern as gasps and growls.

So did the pain.

You were drowning in the blood you had stolen. Your head lolled to the side even as you coughed again, spewing blood into the air like some demented fountain. A werewolf was across the room, hovering over Wednesday even as it transformed back into a person. Back into Enid. Her bare skin was shredded in places.

Wednesday was bleeding out from more than one bite mark.

You had attacked them. Both of them. The women you loved. They were bleeding out. Because of you.

You released the pressure from your neck and felt the blood continue to fall.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. Something wet fell down your cheeks.

“I know,” Wednesday answered just as softly. It was humiliating.

It was lovely.

“Please stay,” Enid said. You looked down to see her reach her hand across the table.

You shouldn’t. You had nearly killed them, had gone into a frenzy that you hadn’t experienced ever again. What if it happened again with them? After all those years, you still loved them. You would never admit to anyone, but you kept their photos on your desk at work. You couldn’t risk hurting them again. Couldn’t risk killing them. You were a monster, and that fact alone was never going to change.

They looked at you expectantly.

For when is a monster not a monster?

You reached forward and placed your hand on top of Enid’s.

Oh, when you love it.

[love-of-the-red-star]

That time I got reincarnated as an Aeon

(Series)

Chapter five: Discovery Channel (In which you find out you have fans)

Warnings: Idk sort of Hi3 lore spoilers? Void Archives is his own warning

Why the hell did you even bother to think you could fix the absolute red flag that’s the divine key sitting on the chair next to your bed?

The more the Kirschtaria look alike spoke, the more you were convinced he should have been booted off the train. Too bad you couldn’t let your intrusive thoughts win in the meantime— Welt doesn’t know just how worse this guy could get, shared goal be damned.

“Okay so uhh, you were with Welt to fight a bunch of people in the sky right?” You said, trying to go along with whatever the fuck he was saying— it wasn’t like you didn’t know what they were doing beforehand, but it was easier to pretend you didn’t know shit.

“Yes, and we were in luck because Himeko had saved us.” He said, smiling. For a moment you would have been utterly bamboozled but you knew better.

You thanked your new brain that functioned as fast as a supercomputer, because you knew everyone in this train would be dead meat if you were slow.

“I see… that’s good to know she managed to get to you in the nick of time then.” You told him with a light hearted laugh, you swore that the more he looked at you, the more suspicious he became. If you were going to kick this man off the train it would have to be a vote of majority, but since he wasn’t acting up just yet you were going to postpone that meeting.

He was still on your watchlist, though.

Void Archives opened a bottle of expensive looking whiskey and poured it on a cup, and then another, and handed one to you.

“A toast.” He said, but you heard “An offering of friendship”. It was at least good to know he knew he shouldn’t fuck around with you.

You accepted the glass, drank it and grimaced.

“Not a fan I see.” He shook his head as if to mourn your lack of taste in the finer things in life. But what would he know? He’s a cube.

“I don’t like it, but I can drink it.” The taste of the whiskey burned in your throat. “Tastes a little funny though.” You murmured, Void Archives didn’t react much to your statement and continued to drink til he emptied the bottle.

It took him an hour, but at least the empty bottle signified he overstayed his welcome in your room.

“Let us meet again tomorrow morning, I want to speak with you soon.” He told you before he left.

Good grief, what a creep.

———————————

You never did end up speaking to him, instead heading towards Welt Yang, who you want to vaguely warn.

“I know you knew Void longer than you know me,” you began, but you already know Welt was more likely to believe you than the cube. “But keep an eye on him, he gives me a bad feeling.” Plant the seed of doubt, slowly but surely, so that the damage to the express can be minimized.

“I’ll.. keep that in mind.” Welt inhaled, stiffly nodding at your words as you patted him on the back.

“Great! Also, if things come down to it, you have my say in kicking him off this train.” You grinned, waving before disintegrating into particles as you returned to your original body.

Famous last words to be spoken.

Because five years later, on a Christmas Eve of all occasions, shit happened. And Void Archives was booted off the train like the red Amogus on a community vote.

Was it chaotic? Yes. Was it like a court hearing than an actual community vote? Also yes.

You had plenty of evidence presented, including the first instance you invited him to your room— because what do you know, the whiskey he gave you was drugged.

He did plenty of horrible shit, and even Himeko, poor patient Himeko, had enough.

You felt a little bad for Welt though having to deal with the aftermath, needless to say, everyone, except you, needed therapy on that train.

On the upside, someone better did replace the blonde and that was Dan Heng who joined you a few weeks before Void Archives was booted off the express.

“Well,” you blinked. “That was something.” You said out loud as Dan Heng shook his head. “Sorry you had to meet that guy.”

Dan Heng brushed it off, instead focusing on staring at the Christmas dinner that Pompom prepared for everyone and poked the turkey on his plate with a fork, before properly digging in.

It wasn’t exactly an ideal way to start your holidays and welcoming someone in the crew properly in a celebration, but you supposed it’d have to do.

It was at least one less toxic bitch off the train.

——————

You didn’t expect you’d deal with your own information being displayed in the databank though. Dan Heng wasn’t creepy about it at least, not that he knew you were an Aeon— specifically, the Aeon that ate Akivili (you still feel bad about that).

“Libertas, huh.” You let out a snort as you read your own little book. In there, it was written on how you were discovered, and what you stood for, along with a group that eventually became your followers.

You hummed, thinking it was rather endearing to see the Avgin there as some of your believers. It was interesting on how you got a following, no matter how small, in the few decades you existed in this world.

It wasn’t just the Avgin, there were others who you did not know too who believed in you, and others who you did see when you had peered into planets to see what people were up to.

It was sweet in a way, for them to cling to you for belief as they sought true happiness in the way of freeing themselves and others.

You wanted to keep it that way.

You read into the pages more, finding out what kind of worship people dedicated to your path; there was a statue of you in one city in some planet hundreds of light years away, in another planet there was you in a tapestry, in another you had a statue and a painting inside of a massive church akin to the ones you saw in photos of Rome.

It was a little overwhelming, and you felt a little shy at the recent discovery of all of this.

You closed the book and put it back on its shelf, exiting Dan Heng’s room to ask Pompom for tea after helping them with their chores.

—————————

Unbeknownst to you, Dan Heng knew you were an Aeon— and an Aeon he believed in in some way when he had heard of you in the whispers of the guards in the recent years he’s stayed in the Shackling Prison. It wasn’t exactly difficult to piece things together with the context clues around the place, not to mention, Himeko did end up telling him.

You wouldn’t be angry about it, she said to him. You were apparently rather human-like, and kind.

Himeko wasn’t wrong, and Dan Heng was going to trust that judgement. Is he wary? Yes, you’re an Aeon after all, you were plenty big of a deal.

But Pompom didn’t seem to be scared of you, and Welt spoke to you with a sense of respect. You regarded everyone in this train with a certain familiarity— Dan Heng did feel like you were a bit strange due to the feeling of “uncanny valley” you gave him, but you were kind to him and you were welcoming.

He was welcome in this place, he had a place to stay, and a purpose, as meager as it was.

Dan Heng thinks things would be alright from now on.

————————

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI (HERE), Part VII……

Yeeeee this took a bit!!! Thanks for the wait yall, I know it’s calm rn, but it’ll get rowdy again at some point I promise.

[rayhalloffame]

Reblogged a post about how there are not enough fics of Patrick crying over reader and I couldn’t agree more. Here’s a college!patrick au, considering making a part 2 but you all let me know!

…………

It takes a lot for Patrick to reach the point of tears but when they do prick his eyes you’re stunned. He’s stood across the room from you, looking as if his heart has just been ripped from his chest. Which is odd considering the shouting match you’d just finished.

He’d shown up to your college apartment unannounced following your commitment to ignoring his texts. When you see him through the peephole you’re considering pretending no one is home, but you know he would make a scene and your neighbors would complain in the morning. Once unlocked, he pushes through your front door in seconds, storming in and whipping around to face you just as the door shuts behind you.

“What the fuck is your problem,” he demands, getting in your face. You roll your eyes and side step him to walk toward your living room. You can hear him approaching before you feel his hand grasp your wrist and wheel you around to face him.

“Pat, I’m not doing this.” You remove your arm from his grip and take a few steps backwards. The atmosphere is icy but he’s clearly got fire running through him, you can see it in the way he clenches his fists at his side. You cross your arms firmly over your chest. “I told you what I wanted. It’s not what you want. So that’s that.” Despite your assured tone your heart races against your ribs.

“I can’t give you what you want,” he insists, sounding exasperated. His hand combs roughly through his hair then slides down his face. “I can’t. But I want you. We can still have this.”

Your “no” is immediate. You take a deep breath. “I don’t want to be one of your girls, Patrick. I want to be your girl. You can’t fuck me and hold me after, and then go make out with some sorority chick the same weekend. I don’t deserve that.” Your voice is rising octaves and you swallow hard in efforts to keep your temper at bay.

He cracks a smile for the first time. “But the sex is really good, isn’t it?”

You glare at him. “Fuck you. Seriously.” You brush past him to go open your front door with intentions on kicking him out.

Your hand is reaching to turn the knob when he shouts at your back, “What do you want from me, huh?” He’s angry again. You turn back to face him. “A white picket fence? Two dogs and three kids?” His head tilts to the side mockingly. You seethe from where you stand. “We’re so young! Why can’t you just have a good time?”

“Because I want more!” You gesticulate fiercely with your hands. “I’m not asking you to marry me, Patrick. I’m just tired of feeling like someone you couldn’t give two shits about!” You’re flushed. Your announcement makes the air go dead.

And that’s how you ended up here, with what was at first a tick of his jaw, an extra bat of his eyelashes, but quickly turned into his face crumpling devastatingly. You suddenly want to take it all back, tell him that he can have you however he wants. But you can’t.

You do take a few cautious steps towards him, sighing his name. He hangs his head, brings his hands up to shield his face from view. He doesn’t retaliate when you bring your hands up to grasp his wrists, smoothing down the length of his forearms.

And then he sobs. It comes deep from his chest and you furrow your brow in concern. You’ve never even seen his eyes water in the year you’ve known him, so this is uncharted territory. You call his name again, gently, give his arms a slight tug to reveal his face. His cheeks are wet and blotchy already.

You pull him to the couch with you, because despite everything, you hold a big space in your heart for Patrick. You sit sideways against the arm to face him, one leg tucked under you. He’s apologizing for anything and everything, pleading with you but you’re not sure what for.

You wipe his face with the palm of your hand. “It’s okay,” you insist. He’s barely looking at you, sniffling pathetically. You straighten your leg against the back of the couch to make space for him between your thighs, pulling at his shoulder so he falls to your chest. He clutches at your body, his own wracking with the force of his cries. Neither of you says a word for a long time. You scratch your fingers through his hair and down his neck, press kisses to the crown of his head until he’s ready.

“You’ll find someone better,” is what he says when he breaks the silence. You freeze. He continues. “You think you want me now, but you’ll find someone better. You deserve to.” He looks up at you with puffy eyes and a red nose. “But you’re my best girl. I can’t have you and lose you.”

Your heart breaks. He is so charming and so full of himself that the insecurity is easy to miss. This is your Patrick, who challenges you to be the best version of yourself, takes care of you when you’ve had too much to drink, wipes your tears after you force him to watch a romcom, fucks you better than anyone ever has.

“You’re so stupid,” you say. “You’re who I want. I don’t know why you can’t see how great you are.” You lean down to press a kiss between his eyes. You rub your thumb back and forth at the nape of his neck. His migration up your body happens quickly, and so does the kiss he presses to your mouth. It’s easy enough for him to get his tongue involved, his big hand holding you close by the back of your neck.

You break the contact before things get carried away, remind him that your feelings on the situation haven’t changed. If he doesn’t want to close things off then you can’t move forward. “Only you,” he agrees, head nodding. He repeats it over and over and over while he drags his lips across your jaw until he meets your mouth again in a sloppy kiss. You’re about the have the best makeup sex of your life, you can already tell.

[willownwisp]

nice legs, daisy dukes.

i. nice legs daisy dukes makes a man go woo woo. (vendetta!leon x fem reader) author's note: like every responsible writer, this is not proofread because i run on my delusions and being thick faced. i write and call it a day. first entry of my valentine's advent, yayyyy! i tried to overcome my intense fear of dialogues because i know i suck at it omg please tell me if i did well, likes are vv appreciated! cw: nsfw. r18, MDNI PLS. fingering in public.

Leon feels like a creep, scratch that. He definitely looks like a creep. He probably looks like a thirty-six year old man waiting for a hot coed, because he is. He pulls out his phone to relieve himself of the slight shame, sends a dry text because he doesn't understand the purpose of an emoji. Never did. In his day, texts used to be enough and it was hot that you could send a coherent text with those small ass phones and even smaller keypad.

He leans against his Ducati looking like a fucking dick with an elaborately decorated box of pastries in hand. You've been eyeing the newly opened pâtisserie from across the street. He can be sweet when he wants to be, because he knows you're obsessed with those "instagrammable" treats. It gets him good boyfriend points because you matter, you're his sweet little bunny. The sweetest.

You're sweet when he sees you from the flood of students exiting the campus gates in your pink mini dress and a matching cardigan, a flood of warmth washes him, in his mind there are compartments. Store the trauma in another space deep inside his brain, and the other space a section of just you, he tucks away the image of you in this mini dress.

It's definitely going in his favorite outfits you wore.

You're sweet when you visibly perk up at the sight of him in all his 5'11 glory, beaming at him as you literally run towards where he stood. God you're just adorable.

"Lovey!"

Your sweet voice cuts through the idle murmur as you stand before him, and Leon looks at you with that soft gaze. You look like a bunny. A giddy one. The ribbons you wore on your hair come to view now that you're near, and the sight of your shapely thighs put him in a spell.

"Bunny, are you surprised?"

He replies with a smug smile.

"Uh-huh!"

You nod with a soft giggle, a faint blush dusting on your cheeks.

"We don't usually have lunch together…"

You add, the smile on your face is practically inextinguishable as you squirm. You're so fucking cute. He thinks before he brings up the box of pastries, presenting it to you like a cat gifting his owner a small trinket. You squeal before throwing your arms around him in a hug.

"Lovey! How did you know I wanted these?"

You ask and he chuckles, of course Leon would know. Who wouldn't when your social media is full of your ravings about the place, but he plays it off cool.

"I just did, bunny. Boyfriend senses and all."

That reply earns him a giggle from you and he's whipped. Your dainty hands grabbing the box as you mouth a small 'thank you' and his arms wrap around your waist. Lifting you up like nothing as he seats you atop his Ducati, like the pretty princess that you are.

"Where are we going, lovey?"

You ask, but the words fall on deaf ears for as soon as Leon had lifted you up in his hands, he's already thinking of ways to feel you, properly. The way your mini dress hikes up your thighs as he looks down to peek at your legs, he hums an acknowledgment to your question, his hands snaking from your waist to your thighs just where your mini dress ends. His thumbs rub lazy circles on your skin , before he lifts his head up to give you a cheeky grin.

"Anywhere bunny. Let's get out of here, yeah?" You nod obediently and he pulls away, giving your head a soft pat as you tell him off to not mess up your hairstyle and he rolls his eyes, takes the time to put your helmet on because he's a gentleman. "Hold on tight bunny." He'd say as you hug him from behind, the whole bike ride was silent as he speeds through traffic, only for the both of you to end up in a deserted park, right at a secluded spot just hidden behind trees and park picnic tables. Leon gets off first, taking off his helmet before turning his attention on you. He takes off yours only to be greeted by your confused face. "Are we having a picnic, lovey?" You ask, and he only gives you a smile before pressing his lips on yours in a sweet kiss. "If that's what my bunny wants." There's a teasing lilt on his voice as his hands wander up to your thighs, his calloused palms rubbing up and down, and you get an inkling that it was not picnic time. "Lovey, don't do that… we're in public…"   You tell him off shyly but he only quirks an eyebrow. "It doesn't really matter when we're all alone, yeah?" His voice is husky as he bring his left hand to grip your cheeks gently, his thumb moving to trace the outline of your lips. "We'll be fine bunny." He assures you as the hand that rubs down your thigh inch higher, and higher until the pad of his fingers kisses your clothed pussy.

"I've always taken care of you haven't I?"

You respond with a whine, it's hard to resist when he gets like this. All over you, hands, and close as he possibly can.

"Lovey…"

You call out to him one more time, teetering on the edge of a protest or a plea for him to go on. Leon bits his lips as he rubs your clit slowly, stimulating you before he rains chaste kisses on your face. A kiss on your forehead, a kiss on your cheek, on your cute nose, and a peck on your lips, because you're his baby. He treats you like a ceramic décor, because your precious and fragile.

"Use your words, bunny."

He responds as he slowly feels your cotton panties dampen underneath his fingers, your clit swollen with need and he feels you heating up.

"Lovey, I'm wet…"

You whine again as you squirm beneath him, your grip on the handle of the box tightens up as your free hand claws the leather seat.

"Want me to help you, bunny?"

He coos as he uses his index fingers to tease your clothed pussy, rubbing it up and down the slit as your insides flutter.

"Uh-huh, please lovey."

A satisfied grin eases on his face before he eases his fingers off of which earns him a sad whimper from you and confused look before he shakes his head.

"Suck."

He orders, bringing in his digits to your mouth which you happily oblige to. He grunts as you wet his fingers with an experimental lick, you could taste yourself from his fingertips before your mouth covers his index and middle finger, sucking on it like a lollipop.

The sight sending electricity straight down to Leon's dick as he pulls his fingers out, giving your lips a short kiss ass your reward before his fingers find their way on your inner thighs again, tugging your panties to the side as your pussy kisses his wet fingers.

Leon being the tease that he is, traces your slit, up and down while his thumb presses on your clit as you instinctively spread your legs more to give him room.

"Lovey, don't tease!"

You whine in his ear once more and he chuckles. Two of his thick fingers plunge down your pussy with an embarrassing squelch as you gasp and Leon chuckles.

"She's speaking to me bunny."

He hums happily as his free hand move from your face to your thighs, keeping your pretty legs spread as it should as his fingers thrust in and out of you.

"Lovey…"

You moan, your one eye closes as you watch his hands move, looking down at his busy hands as your slippery pussy gives him enough leverage to slide in and out easily, while his thumb rub on your swollen nub.

"Yeah, bunny? You like that? Can fill you up right, yeah?"

He speaks to you, but you're too dazed to respond as your walls clench around him and he groans. Tipping his head forward to kiss you again, swallowing your moans as you make an "mph" sound as your lips crashes with his. You tilt your head to allow him to deepen the kiss as he slips his tongue inside, tasting your sweet mouth.

 "Ah—ah—" You moan as you part, his fingers not letting up. "You like this?" He whispers in your ear, his husky voice making your toes curl.  "Getting you off after school with my fingers?"  

"Ahh!" You moaned, shoving your hips against his pumping fingers. While his other hand skillfully unbuttons your cardigan's sole closed button before tugging your dress and bra together to reveal your breasts, before proceeding to licking on your nipple. "You're loving this, aren't you?" He rasps, spreading his fingers and pressing his thumb harder on her clit. "Being talked to like this? It gets you off even more, doesn't it, bunny?" He teases you before proceeding to hunch over to suck on your nipples, with his fingers just knuckle deep inside your pussy as your legs lock around his waist, the heels on your sandals digging on his back but he couldn't care less. Your sweet, sweet sounds as he gets you off, your luscious legs around him. God, he could cum from that alone. "Come on, bunny. Talk to your lovey." He teases again, a shit-eating grin on his face as he curls his fingers on that one sweet spot as you throw your head back and your walls clench his fingers in a vice grip. "Fuck, bunny. Can feel you squeezing tight. You're close, bunny?"

He asks but you only respond with a breathless moan as you tremble. He scissors his fingers inside you, alternating between spreading your pussy and curling his fingers and it drives you crazy. He leaves a bite mark around your nipples before he straightens his back to look at your disheveled form. Smirking at the fact that your cardi has slipped off your shoulders and your breasts heaving with your mini dress hiked to your waist.

Looking proud of himself, he captures your lips in a deep kiss as his fingers pump harder, you could hear the salacious squelching at how wet your pussy is.

"Come on bunny, cum for me. Show how much your lovey makes you feel good."

He grunts as his hands grip your cheeks, forehead resting on yours as you tighten up and your body tenses before cumming around his deft fingers with your lips parted in a silent scream.

He slowly halts his fingers, smirking as he brings it to his lips to taste you while you gather yourself. Panting and looking dazed at your older boyfriend who now laps at his fingers coated in your essence like a cat as he groans.

"Did I make you feel good, bunny?"

You nod weakly as your head rests on his chest. He only chuckles. He fixes you up. Tugging down your mini dress and fixing your upper half, buttoning up your cardi again.

"Wanna get lunch now, bunny?"

You look up at him as you slowly gather enough coherence to find that somehow in the middle of your indecency with Leon, the box of pastries had slipped from your fingers and is now a mess on the grass, decorating it with fresh fruit and whipped cream as your face falls and you look up at Leon who now sports a look of… guilt? On his face.

"Leon. Kennedy."

Your voice is dangerously low as you narrow your eyes at him.

"This is your fault!"

You exclaim with a pout as you tug on his leather jacket.

"I was looking forward to eating those! What a waste of food and money! Oh god, I feel so bad!"

Leon soothes you as he smoothens your hair with his hands and he kisses your forehead.

The good thing about being thirty-six and with a shit ton of disposable income is that he can buy you all that you want, it's what he intends to for his sweet, sweet bunny.

[genshin-obsessed]

Abandon | Tighnari x Reader

𓆩⟡𓆪 Beware! This is angst with no comfort! Otherwise, please enjoy~

𓆩⟡𓆪 I made this a bit shorter than it was intended but I didn’t want to make it too long and I felt like the ending was better this way.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Word count: 1367

"Ah... sorry. I'm just not in a place where I'm looking for a relationship. Thank you for your feelings; thank you for loving me. But, I can't return that love... not yet anyway."

Those were the words Tighnari had for you when you first confessed to him almost two years ago. Of course it broke your heart, but it was probably the nicest let down you could think of. You were upset, of course, but who were you to question his feelings? Tighnari was always busy with work and his studies to be in a relationship.

Relationships never seemed like they were for him, but his words had given you some inkling of hope that fueled your own feelings. The longer you spent around Tighnari, the more you felt your love for him grow. It truly felt endless. You never felt as if Tighnari took you for granted, he was just as any good friend would be. He supported you, was kind to you, encouraged you, and never judged you. Yet, there was always a feeling of emptiness that invaded your chest when you were around him.

Discontent.

No matter what, you were never satisfied with Tighnari's kindness towards you. It was never something you ever mentioned or acted upon, but you always felt like it wasn't enough. Unsurprisingly, you wanted more. You were in love with him and the gentle shoulder pats always left you wanting more.

That's when you realized your feelings had gotten out of hand. At first, being around Tighnari was enough. Just being able to see him, hear his voice, and helping to contribute to his work was enough. You weren't sure when it stopped, but now you needed to do something about it.

So, over the course of a month, you slowly began to get busier with your work. Twice a week, you would spend time with Tighnari, Cyno, Kaveh, and Alhaitham, usually playing Genius Invocation TCG. But you stopped attending due to taking on more work. Unfortunately, this led to some adverse health effects, but that was expected.

Consequently, you were called out by all four of your friends, especially Tighnari, who demanded you take some time off to take care of yourself. You felt guilty, avoiding your close friends the way you did. One thing you knew you couldn’t do was go cold turkey on Tighnari. It was a thought you just couldn’t handle so that’s why you were taking it slowly.

See, this is where things fell apart. It was a weekend and you had a day off. You went out with a friend and as you were heading home, you happened to run into the group and Cyno invited you to play Genius Invocation TCG.

“Sorry, I’ve been here a while and I’m tired.” You lied, giving them a halfhearted wave.

“Oh come on, (y/n).” Kaveh said with a frown as he placed his cards face down. “It’s been a while since you spent time with us. It’ll be fun! Hey! You can pester Tighnari about his new girlfriend.”

“Kaveh!” Tighnari hissed at his words but his friend had already spoken. Your entire body went rigid at Kaveh’s words and for a moment, everything fell silent. Your heart sank, the pit of anxiety grew within you, and the emotions slowly began to bubble.

Tighnari’s eyes slowly shifted to you, seeing that heartbroken look in your eyes. He wasn’t ready to see that. To see just how much the idea would hurt you. The remorse he fell made him realize he wasn’t as innocent as he pretended to be.

There was a very awkward silence that fell upon the group as everyone looked between you and Tighnari. The forest ranger looked guilty and you looked hurt. Even Alhaitham started to feel a little bad when he saw your face. Yet, you forced a smile, blinked back the tears, and looked at Kaveh which made the architect flinch a little.

“Sorry, I don’t have time for gossip. I’ve got an early day tomorrow but have fun on my behalf. And Tighnari, congrats on the new relationship. Didn’t know you had it in you.” There was a way you spoke that added to the guilt Tighnari felt. He knew you didn't mean that as a compliment.

With a wave, you turned and left, making all eyes land on Tighnari. The awkward silence continued for a moment before Alhaitham finally broke it.

“What the hell was that?” As usual, he was straightforward, needing answers to why you reacted the way you did.

“N-nothing. I’m sure they’re fine.” Tighnari lied as he looked at his cards. Yet, even though his eyes scanned the faces of the cards, he wasn’t thinking about the game or any strategy. He was worried about you because he knew the hope he gave you had just come crashing down. Yet, he didn’t move. The uncomfortable atmosphere remained around the four, but Tighnari remained where he was seated. ⎯⎯ ୨ A Little Later ୧ ⎯⎯

Your walk home was dreadful. Some pathetic part of you wished Tighnari would chase after you but he never did. Your entire walk home was filled with sniffling as you tried to bury the sadness down, which ultimately failed. Yet almost every moment was just waiting for him to catch up and apologize or even explain what was going on.

The words just kept repeating over and over in your head. Tighnari was in a relationship? He never told you any such thing. You weren’t even aware he had been looking. A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you approached the hill that led up to your home. You were so desperate, weren’t you? Hell, maybe he was going to tell you but you stopped hanging around him a few weeks ago.

You fooled yourself into acting as if you were completely unaware. You wanted Tighnari to love you back but acted as if it fine that he didn’t. Even after he rejected you, you hoped he would just one day come to you and declare he changed his mind. You dreamt of that day so many times, yet out of all the scenarios you made up, this wasn’t one of them.

You saw the look in his eyes. He knew how you felt and there was some inkling of guilt within his gaze. Yet, knowing that he might have felt some form of realization brought you no solace. You didn’t care if he was understood- not right now anyway. Knowing him, he probably wasn't even sorry.

Who was this girl he was dating? Did she work with him? Work with one of the others? Did you know her?

So many questions filled your mind that would remain unanswered for the foreseeable future. Your hand rubbed your wet cheek as you pushed your door open and closed it behind you. Your other hand mindlessly slid against the door and finding the lock, and turning it.

Your home felt… dreary. There was that silence that made the loneliness settle within you. Dropping your bag at your feet, you just walked inside and laid down on your couch. Your eyes stare at the ceiling and you were acutely aware when your vision began to blur with tears.

Soft sobs escaped your lips no matter how hard you tried to choke them down. You were angry. Angry at yourself for feeling this way, angry at Tighnari for giving you hope the day you confessed, angry at that girl who had him or whatever. No matter what you did, the tears just wouldn't stop. So, you just let go- you let those emotions flow out of you instead of holding them back.

You officially had to move on. Tighnari really didn’t feel the same way and you needed to let go of these stupid feelings. He wasn’t obligated to love you and you weren’t obligated to be friends with him. Especially since it was so painful. But that dull ache returned and you looked around your living space for any form of comfort. Yet, there was none. You were all alone.

There was a lingering thought in your head which kept reminding you every few moments that… Tighnari never came after you.

[silaslich]

The countless stars we’re sleeping under

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Part 1 - read here

Warnings: smut, 18+ only, pussy eating, handjob, p in v sex, established relationship, friends to lovers, childhood friends, jealous Arthur, injury detail, self harm references

Length: 6k

A continuation from The Setting Sun Through Open Windows - You and Arthur have crossed the line in which there’s no return. His absence leaves you feeling empty, but he’s soon back to rectify.

There’s an action and a consequence. Always. Thats a rule. If you stick your fingers into the open flame of a fire you’ll get burned. The action of moving your fingers into the angry orange glow and the consequence of retracting a blistered-bubbly mess of flesh.

Something doesn’t come from nothing. There’s a give and a take. Happiness isn’t something that is made for everyone. There are people who never find it; yet there are others who find happiness in the mundane- in the way the sun rises over the mountain tops and the way the stream sounds in the quiet of night. There are those who walk through life without seeing the world for what it really is, which is beautiful. Beautiful in the way the tall grass sways with the breeze and in the way the wild flowers bloom through the first crisp-cold days where winter turns to spring. Beautiful in the way the wolves howl to each other through the trees and the way the air feels as it splits across your face when you race the wind on horseback.

For so many years you had watched those around you find that happiness while deep down you thought it wasn’t something made for you. So long spent dreaming and wondering ‘what if?’. You’d spent so much time sitting at the edge of camp and looking out into the horizon, wondering where his freedom had taken him to now. He’d leave for days or weeks on end without so much as a goodbye. Then he’d waltz back into camp as if nothing had happened, expecting you to act as though he hadn’t even been gone. His peace offerings of venison steaks and clips of money were never enough to excuse his long absences in your eyes. Yet the others were always satisfied.

He calls your name but you ignore it. He doesn’t realise that it’s purposeful at first, thinking you simply can’t hear him over the roaring campfire and the loud drunken chatter of the others. Everyone had jumped up to welcome him home, this time it had been two weeks. Next time it might be more. You hadn’t shared the sentiment that everyone else had. Instead shielding yourself from his eyes behind the medicine cart where your bedroll is, his eyes find you almost immediately. You dart off as soon as you realise he’s seen you, now he knows you’re avoiding him. He shrugs off Miss Grimshaw and shoulders Micah out of the way to follow you. He calls your name again and this time he knows you’ve heard him. He sees it in the way your shoulders stiffen. “Hey wait right there” he says, trying to sound stern. Arthur stops dead as you whirl around to face him, your expression tight and eyes narrowed. “I’m headed to the river” your voice is clipped and you’re quick to gather what you’ll need to wash up. He’s quick to open his mouth to speak but you manage words before he does. “I don’t want company”.

~

You’re alone with your thoughts once again. Letting your mind reel and your heart ache.

Iris’ footsteps vibrate through your entire body, you feel so hollow.

The sun is lowering on the horizon and the earth is bathed in a honey-amber glow. You have to squint as you ride on, knowing you aren’t that far from the river now. There had been some rain this morning and you can smell the damp soil as it’s kicked up beneath Iris’ hooves. She tosses her head to rid the flies and you lean forward to pat her neck. “I know girl” you soothe, mutual in her feeling of hatred towards the bugs as they buzz in her ears.

Iris trots away as soon as her bridle and saddle are off. You smile as you watch her go. She always stays close when you graze her loose and you’re glad that you can do such a thing without worrying you’ll never see her again. The mare blows air through her nostrils as she finds a richer patch of grass nearby, you watch her for a short while as you admire her coat and how much condition she’s kept through the winter- you try your best to keep her as fit and healthy as possible.

After a long minute of watching the little blue roan mare forage through the shrubs you return to the more important task. Getting clean. It’s one of the nicer things about where the gang is currently camped. It’s barely a stones throw away from a fresh river that runs directly from up North. Abundant with fish and a nice way to cool off after a long hot day. It’s ideal. It’s one of those little mundane things that makes the side of your mouth pull up just slightly. Only slightly, though. It beats riding into town to pay for a bath, it’s a hassle and it’s overpriced. You’ve always preferred it out in the wilds.

In the short time since the storm where Arthur and yourself finally crossed that line he’s tried to give you what you were asking for. He’d booked hotel rooms for the two of you and bought you hot meals at the saloon. He’d bring you into town to conduct “business” and he’d make you feel like there was some normality in your life. If you could call it that. At the end of the day you’d still ride back to camp. To some wet-earthed bedroll out in the sticks. Back to the reality that you sleep under a wagon when it rains and that there is no safety of four walls and a roof. There’s only safety in numbers out here.

Perhaps it’s selfish. To have exactly what you’d been dreaming of and still not be satisfied. Arthur had finally admitted that he felt the same, you should be ecstatic- but it comes with a price. You will never be able to change who or what he is. Part of you would never want to, but the other part of you wishes that he would leave all of this behind and realise what he has right in front of him. Hosea has been saying it for years. After Eliza and Isaac and after Mary, you thought that Arthur’s eyes might have been opened. At one point he ran to Mary. You lost him for real. He finally plucked up the courage to fight for what he wanted, only this time it was her father that made him return to the gang. He wasn’t good enough for his Mary.

Your clothes are folded neatly on top of one another and you’re quick to retreat to the cold encompass of the water. It envelopes you quickly and it steals your breath. Despite how hot and muggy the air is the water still manages to send goosebumps rippling across your skin. You’re deep enough that you can stand but only as deep so that the water comes to your shoulders. A heavy sigh escapes your lips. It’s relaxing. You want to let everything worrying you wash away with the currents of the river. There’s no point worrying about Arthur or worrying about what this means for your relationship with him. You love him dearly, but you fear that this crossed line might ruin what came before. It was always angering to you that he could leave and come back whenever he felt like it. At the drop of a hat he could be gone for days and then return like nothing happened. It always upset you. Now? Now it feels personal. It feels like despite his loyalty to Dutch, Arthur sees nothing else worth sticking around here for. He goes away and stays away, but it’s okay because he brings food and money back with him. You’ve never understood it. Maybe you never will.

By the pebbled shore you’d left your soap bar within reach. You paddle over to retrieve it having had long enough to soak your woes and stew in your pity, you don’t want to stay out too late and risk riding home in the dark. With your soap in hand you wade back out into the deeper water and roll the bar against your skin. It lathers quickly and you deftly rub the bubbles into your shoulders and the nots of muscle at the base of your neck. You sigh loudly, it feels like heaven. It’s a nice contrast to your day spent idle inside of camp. Wondering and worrying. You submerge your head under the water completely and breach the water again, it runs down your face and the coldness takes your breath away again. From where you’re standing you take a risk and throw the soap to get it to land on shore, unsurprisingly, you miss.

“For Christ’s sake” it’s hissed through your teeth. So much for melting away your worries and your annoyances. You’d never be able to wash Arthur away, not matter how hard you tried. You move to step closer toward shore when something firm but fleshy touches your foot. You jump instinctively and look down to try and see through the waters surface. It’s useless. You try to speed up in your retreat back to shore but this time something grabs you entirely. A shriek leaves your throat as you’re pulled under, bubbles breach the surface and the current of the river continues in its steady pace.

Barely a second later your body erupts from beneath the water. You cough and panic as you try to rip yourself away from whatever has still got ahold of you. The noises escaping your throat don’t register to you. You call for Iris and your pure terror makes you wail like a child. Everything quickly falls away however when the sound of laughter meets your ears. Your body stiffens and once your brain puts the pieces together you’re quick to remember what Arthur’s hands feel like gripping your naked waist. You gasp and spin to face him. He’s breathless and his chest heaves. You feel the warmth of his breath from how close his face is to yours. His grip doesn’t let up, instead he pulls you closer and holds you firmer. One large palm flattens over the curve of your ass and the other stays rooted to your waist. He looks down at you with lidded eyes, his head quickly tilts in confusion as he reads the expression on your face.

You push him away. Hard. The water splashes and you create space between the two of you. Despite the softness in his eyes you can’t help the bitter taste in your mouth. There’s wet on your lashes but you know it’s not from the water around you. It’s everything that you’ve wanted to say for the past two weeks. It’s everything that you’ve been waiting to tell him. You’re afraid the lump in your throat will make this impossible. “You’re a horrid man Arthur” you turn yourself away from him, hiding your shame, you press your face into your hands. The warmth that spreads itself across your back makes your chest ache. Arthur’s arms cross over your hips and his chin settles against your shoulder, he pulls you close again. You feel him sigh against your spine. “M’sorry for scarin’ ya” his voice is soft. You want so badly to give in. To forgive him like you always do. You try to tell yourself he’s unaware. He wouldn’t keep doing this if he knew how it made you feel- you’re scared to tell him the truth. Maybe you’ve read too much into this. Maybe he doesn’t see this thing between the two of you as serious at all. Let alone entertain the idea that you’re mad that he’s been gone. Your head is spinning. You can’t keep this up.

It’s quick in a manor that takes Arthur off guard. His hands move as your body does, guiding you as you turn in his arms. His lips are fresh against yours. Wet from the river. You taste the tobacco on his tongue as it glides roughly against your bottom lip, he’s desperate. His grip is bruising. His fingers dip into the flesh of your waist and you gasp against his lips, leaving more room for his tongue to explore. You moan and guide your hand up his shoulder blade and to the back of his head, tugging at the soaking wet strands that try desperately to stick to his head. Your other hand is beneath the waters surface, raking your nails down his stomach and through the wiry hair of his snail trail as it leads to his pubic hair. He hisses into the kiss but you don’t let him retreat.

His cock starts to stiffen in your hand. Pressed tightly between your bodies. He kisses you with anew fervour. It zips up your spine like electricity. You’re panting against his mouth and he the same with yours. The kiss melts into too much teeth and tongue, a mess of desperation and need. Arthur cups the side of your face with one hand and tilts your head until your eyes meet his, he speaks against your lips “I missed you” the words are enunciated clearly- he means them. The lump returns to your throat. Your eyes search his, they’re greener than you remember, suddenly- you can’t look at him.

You press your lips to his once again, hooking your elbow around the back of his neck and pulling him closer. All the while jerking his cock quicker in your hand, you need this as much as he does, you want to remind him why he comes back. Arthur makes a noise at the back of his throat and breaks off the kiss, most likely to speak, but you don’t want to listen. His hands grip you tight and your lips move from his mouth to his jaw and then to his neck. You press kisses all the while as you move, soon sinking your teeth into the flesh of his throat where his beard begins to thin out. He moans- “shit”. His hand cups your throat and pulls you away from him, once again forcing you to meet his eyes. You try not to, you don’t want to, but you can’t deny him. His eyes are soft again, in that understanding way that still knocks you off kilter. He leans forward to kiss your forehead. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere, alright? Let’s slow down” his voice rasps as he speaks, you can smell the cigar on his breath. You nod silently, he sees straight through you. He sees straight through the difference in desperation and fear- the fear he won’t come back next time.

Arthur takes the advantage that your arms are still looped tightly around his neck. He bends slightly and grips the backs of your thighs in each of his hands, hoisting you up in his arms. You squeeze him tighter, hoping he doesn’t drop you. He starts to walk toward the shore, taking long-strong steps and carrying you with little effort. You press your face into the side of his neck, despite the rivers interference, he stills smells like himself. Like ginseng and gunpowder. Like the damp earth after heavy rain in the best way possible. Like he’s just been plucked from the soil. As much a force of nature as any thunderstorm or blizzard.

The grass isn’t that soft against your spine. Yet, beneath Arthur, you can’t find the room to care. Your head is pillowed on your folded clothes and Arthur is kissing your throat and descending down to the supple skin between your breasts. He pays each of them equal attention on his way, he kisses each nipple and sucks them softly into his mouth. Your spine arches and he stills you with a flat palm to your stomach, urging you to be patient. Your hands find his hair, fisting the strands between your fingers. His hair looks almost black against your skin, darkened by the river. “Arthur” you whine, pressing your hips up into him, the angle means you just barely catch your hips to his- there’s a dark sound from his chest. Then there’s a hand pressed to your throat. Just enough to let you know who’s leading this. “So damn impatient” he’s trying to berate you but you fear he’s only fuelling the fire.

You close your eyes. Needing to focus on Arthur’s lips. On his fingertips. On everything that’s he’s doing. Every feather-light touch. You sigh “I need you inside me Arthur” it’s a plea at best. An awful whiney noise that surprises you as much as it does Arthur. He laughs. It tickles your stomach where his beard scratches the skin. He presses a kiss to the skin there. There’s the quick-flashing sting of teeth and you jump. “Patience” he mutters. Even slower than before, Arthur continues his downward path. All you can do is press your head back against your makeshift pillow, looking up at the sky as it blurs into a canvas of pale violet and burnt orange. There’s a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and then to the other. Your fingers tighten in his hair. He laughs again. Ever so faintly - Arthur presses his lips to the lips of your cunt. It’s barely a relief. You want to cant your hips into his face, you’re desperate to reverse the roles and put him on his back- then you could sit your cunt onto his mouth just the way you like.

Just as your mind wanders, Arthur presses his tongue inside of you. It’s everything you’ve been needing. The way his hands grip you, your legs over his shoulders with his lips buried in your pussy. Patience isn’t something you want to focus on right now.

Right now you want to cum on Arthur’s tongue and then make him do the same. You want to release everything in the best way you’ve learnt to. With Arthur. He’s broken you for any other man. He’d been your first and you know that deep down he’ll be your last. He knows you inside and out. You try to separate the way that your brain understands why Arthur is so good at this. You don’t want to think about it too much. In the moment, none of it matters.

“Oh god Arthur”. You’re panting. Watching your own breasts swell with every heavy intake of breath as you look down at Arthur. Seeing where his face is buried so close to you, lapping you up like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. His fingers grip the flesh of your thighs, not allowing you to move away from him- not that you’d ever want to. You tug at his hair, intentionally pulling him closer while simultaneously pushing your hips into the wait of his mouth. You feel him smile against your cunt. He pulls back barely an inch to sink his teeth into the skin of your thigh. “You are somethin’ else” his teeth sting and his smile practically burns your skin from how sharp it is. Your head sags backwards into your folded clothes, needing his mouth back on you again, you feel cold without it. “Please Arthur” your voice draws out, trying your best to gain his pity. Arthur has never been a pitying man.

Arthur hums and meets your eyes. There’s the same softness in them still. He’s always been kind to you, even through the hard times like when he lost Eliza and Isaac and when Mary rejected him. Those times had hollowed him out. They’d made a mean man of him. It led on for months. He became even more reclusive and he blamed himself for all of it. You gave him space. He didn’t seek you out. On a few occasions when he stayed at camp for more than five minutes you’d catch him by the fire, watching as he held his fingers over the crackling flames without flinching. He’d pull them out as soon as you were about to jump in and intervene. Smelling his burning flesh. You’d lie and say that you don’t understand, but you do. He’d wanted to feel something. To dull the ache in his chest. To feel something other the despair and loneliness. You and Arthur had both felt so alone for so long despite the fact you were both surrounded by so many people.

There’s a strangled sound in your throat when Arthur runs his tongue between your folds, pressing a single finger to your entrance at the same time. You’re so wet. Completely soaked for him. There’s no resistance to him whatsoever. You’re so pliable in his hands. Moulded however he sees fit. “It feels so good” you huff, rolling your eyes. Arthur adds another finger. His tongue matches the languid movement of his wrist. “Such a good girl for me” his words are smothered in your pussy as he pumps his fingers inside of you with a practiced cruelty. He’s going so slowly, knowing it’ll break you in the long run. You bite your tongue and Arthur notices. His sharp green eyes flit upwards, watching as your face crumples in pleasure, he smiles against you. The way he curls his fingers inside of you pulls your eyes to his, you watch him watch you, maintaining eye contact as Arthur makes you cum on his tongue. His tongue laps you up. The noises are filthy, a combination of your wetness and Arthur’s moans mixing with the struggle of your own breathing as you gasp for air.

He rides it out with you. His lips and tongue not ceasing until your orgasm fully subsides. He holds your hips in place when it becomes too much for you. It’s amusable in the way you try to crawl away from him. To try and relieve the pressure of his mouth as his endeavour enters the region of becoming too much. Tears well in your eyes from the overstimulation. There comes a limit to Arthur’s cruelty. When it comes to you that is. No sooner than you’re crying his name for real does he remove the pressure. He’s quick to press a kiss to your thigh once more. Crawling his way back up until he’s kissing the tears from your cheeks. Letting his tongue curl against yours so you can taste yourself. It’s something vulgar. Something you’re sure you’re supposed to find repulsive. But you don’t. Not when you’re with Arthur. It’s the most seen you’ve ever felt. To discover these things with him. Things you know even the other girls in camp would blush at. That would be saying something.

You hold his face in your hands. Feeling the way his beard prickles your palms. He kisses you again and again until you’re breathless still. Until you’re panting against his lips and digging your nails into his shoulders. You can feel the head of his cock as it glides over your stomach, slicking you with pre-come. He’s so hard against you and you’re sure it must ache. One of your hands slides down his back and forward across his hip, following the line of muscle until you meet the wiry thatch of hair again. His teeth graze your bottom lip as you weigh him in your palm, teasing your thumb over the weeping head of his cock with just the littlest amount of pressure you’re able to manage. “Why the teasin’ all of a sudden?” Arthur asks with a slanted smirk on his lips. You’re quick to taste it. You shrug from where you’re laid beneath him, watching his eyes search your face. You smile “It’s what you deserve” your lips are on his again, both smiling, Arthur takes your lip between his teeth again. He only breaks the kiss to glance down at where your hand meets his cock, watching with a slack jaw as you jerk upwards ever so slowly. His hips follow the retreat of your grip, practically fucking the shape your hand formed around him. You click your tongue “who’s impatient now?” You ask with a sly grin. Arthur sinks his teeth into the flesh-top of your breast for that. “I never said I was a patient man” he says against your skin, looking up at you.

Arthur’s kiss tastes like home. It proves it isn’t a place. It’ll always be him, to you. The sharpness of the tobacco he smokes and the deep flavour of the ginseng leaves he chews on while out riding for hours upon hours. The sloppiness of his kiss when he’s had a drink. His teeth catch yours and he sucks welts into your neck for you to have to cover up so the gang don’t see. He tastes of whiskey on those nights. The rich woodiness of it. Something not well aged. Something cheap. It still tastes more than fine to you.

He slots his hips between yours like it’s the most natural thing. Wrapping your thighs around his waist while he presses the head of his cock between your pussy lips. Forever teasing. Gathering the wetness of your juices and his saliva on his cock so as to fit easier. To make it better for you. You have nothing to compare it to, but Arthur’s cock had seemed so daunting at first, but now it’s as easy as breathing. When he presses his forehead to yours and cants his hips forward it’s as easy as welcoming him home. Your hips widen and your back arches and everything else falls away. You feel so full. So complete. His cock throbs inside of you and it’s thrilling. Arthur kisses you for the thousandth time and it’s still not enough. Even when he begins to move. One hand pressed to the side of your head and one guiding your hips, he still doesn’t feel like he’s close enough. You moan loudly and Arthur’s cock twitches inside of you. He grits his teeth and you hear it “fuck” he presses his cheek to yours and whispers in your ear. Praises. Curses. Pleads to god. All of it. You never let go of him. Your nails pull train track like marks down his shoulder blades, gripping him for dear life as he begins to fuck you like he hasn’t in weeks. Because that’s the truth. He hasn’t. It’s a build up of everything. You’re his escape. His outlet. Past that you’re someone he cares deeply for, more than he would care to admit to himself, he values you more than just sex.

“You’re takin’ me so good darlin’” his voice is thick and hoarse. His lungs burn from the strain. From the way he’s holding himself back. His grip is bruising, you can feel it, but you’ll wear them under all of your layers with pride. With the filthy reminder of what the two of you do when out of earshot of camp- sometimes still within earshot if Arthur is feeling brave and you’re willing to go along with it. His words strike you deep in your core. You grow wetter around the pull of his cock if it’s even possible. The way you moan is almost embarrassing. Your head lulls and your eyes water, he’s making up for lost time for sure. You lean closer and press your temple to his cheek, rocking with the motion of his hips as he fucks into you harder, he’s getting close. “You make it all feel so good Arthur” you’re heaving, struggling against his thrusts and it’s only worsened when you feel him press the pads of his fingers against your clit. It’s like a match striking and your body reacts immediately. Your arms are looped around his neck, keeping him close to you. Your lips pull into a smile “no one else could make me feel as good as you Arthur - none of em’” it drags a noise from his lips and you’re most certainly adding that to the filthy part of your brain for a later date.

He’s prideful. You know this. You also know that he knows you’ve never been with anyone else. He’d like to keep it that way. He wants you to never feel like you need to seek someone else out. He acts as if he doesn’t know he’s ruined sex for you with anyone else but him. Nothing would compare.

You cum for a second time. Arthur plucks it from you easily. His deft fingers working you up to that point. He builds the pressure until it’s nothing more than stars behind your eyelids when you close your eyes. Everything within you tightens like a coiled spring, he pushes you past the point at just the right time. He makes it good for himself too. He makes you cum first not only because he’s a gentleman, but because it makes it all the more better for him. His orgasm crests and rolls until it feels like his gut is twisting. He fights it. He tries to make it last until you’ve cum. Because that’s what finally pulls him over the edge. The way your cunt squeezes him. Milking his cock for all it’s worth until he’s twitching inside the warmth of your walls. Painted in his cum and still spasming from the fall down of your own orgasm.

His chest is pressed to yours. Sweat slicked and clammy. Arthur balances above you on his elbows and attempts to catch his breath. Both of your chests brush against one another, heaving air into your lungs like you’re starved of it. Your hands fall from Arthur’s shoulders to the dip of his waist, simply resting there while you catch your bearings. You look up at the sky. Noticing how much darker it suddenly feels. A bead of sweat drips from Arthur’s nose and falls to your cheek, it guides you to look at him. You meet his eyes. The smile he wears mirrors to you. Despite how you’d felt for the past two weeks, none of it feels like it matters right now. It’s dust on the wind.

He opens his mouth to speak but a quick and loud crack of thunder completely cuts him off- it makes the both of you jump out of your skin. Within seconds a fierce downpour suddenly breaks from the heavens. It bounces of the ground and you’re quick to seek refuge from the way it stings your eyes by hiding beneath Arthur. “God dammit” tumbles from his chest. “Arthur?” You cock your head to meet his eyes while still managing to hide from the rain. He adjusts himself as he rests on his elbows, he’s growing soft inside of you. “Darlin’?” His accent sounds thicker.

“You owe me a bar of soap”.

~

It’s a day later and you’re sitting with Hosea in his tent. He’s reading and you’re sewing up a hole you’d manage to tear in one of your skirts. There’s something that’s unnerving you. It’s unclear exactly what it is. More than likely nothing, just your mind simply playing tricks. There’s something in your head telling you that what you and Arthur are doing is wrong. Despite the fact it really isn’t. You’re both adults who know what they want, you guess it’s strange because you’ve co-existed for so long and have come across as having no interest in each other whatsoever. This thing between you isn’t exactly a secret, but you and Arthur had spoken about it and decided it wasn’t something that needed to be made into a big fuss. Despite all of that, you still feel like you’re going to get caught out sooner or later.

The two of you had been so careless as to fall asleep out by the river last night. After returning to the water to wash off for a second time and waiting out the rain you and Arthur had wanted to stay away from camp a little longer to catch up properly. He’d left his horse further up the river bank so that he could scare you, so after gathering up Iris and getting dressed you walked with Arthur back to his horse and helped him set up his tent. You were only meant to stay for an hour or two at best. To eat something and talk without interruptions, you must have both fallen asleep quickly only to startle awake in the dead pitch-blackness of night. The fire had gone out a while ago and Arthur was still wrapped around you as he slept.

Somehow you’d both managed to sneak back into camp without waking anyone. Even the horses were quiet enough as not to spook the other horses. You parted from him with a kiss and told him you’d talk tomorrow.

He had left with Dutch an hour ago. Neither of them said a word to anyone else. Not even Hosea. That was becoming more frequent. The secrecy and lack of transparency, you’d noticed it for some time now and you knew that Hosea had caught onto it quickly too. He was an honest man and you had known him for long enough, he trusted you with his complaints. “They’re up to somethin’. I just know it” he’d barely looked up from his book as they’d left on horseback. You follow Hosea’s words. “You think so?” You’re almost finished patching the hole in your skirt. He hums an affirmative “been real shifty lately the pair of ‘em” his tone is speculative. You wonder if he’s right.

It’s much later now, the midday sun is blearing above your head and the sweat drips down the back of your neck. You’re just pouring yourself a cup of coffee when Lenny and Javier return to camp dragging an almost limp Sean off the back of Javier’s horse.

It’s not uncommon, you aren’t worried, not even enough to ask if he’s okay - it’s only when Lenny calls your name in that desperate tone that you know something is seriously wrong. Your coffee is abandoned and you rush to them, fully expecting the worst. They’re all out of breath. “We was minding our business! Honest!” Lenny is quick to point out, helping Javier support Sean’s weight with an arm under each of his. Sean is conscious to a point, he’s almost standing on his own and although his eyes are shaky he can still focus on the sound of your voice and which direction it’s coming from. “What the hell happened?” Your tone is sharp, both Javier and Lenny look at each other. Javier clears his throat to speak “we were just having a drink” he looks at his boots before continuing “they attacked him out of nowhere, we got the hell out of there as fast as we could”. You don’t think he’s lying, but it’s Sean, so you know there’s more to this. You press your lips into a thin line “bring him to a chair over here”.

When Sean is seated he unfortunately regains the ability to speak. He slurs your name. There’s a huge gash that leads from his cheek to the top of his temple, it doesn’t look too deep but it’ll need packing and stitching. You ask Lenny to bring you what you’ll need and he does so quickly. He sets it down on the table behind Sean and makes himself scarce. “Sean?” You say his name, watching as his eyes slowly focus on you, his face splits into an uneven grin. “Yes gorgeous”. You’d be surprised if he didn’t have a concussion, at least the large cut seems to be the worst of it for him. You hold his face in your hands and angle his head to get a better look at the injury. “Can you hear me okay? Your sight okay?” You speak clearly and he stays focused on your lips as you speak. “It’s all fine love” he smiles as he speaks “how’s your sight? Could make ya see stars if ya would just gimme a chance” Sean leans forwards but you lean back, keeping the distance. “I’m being serious” you tell him, he clicks his tongue “what makes ye think I’m not?”.

You try your best to ignore him and work at threading a needle, planning on stitching up his face. There’s a bottle of whiskey on the table that you’d asked Lenny for and you grab it and press it into Sean’s hand. “Drink some” he does so without question, you know this will hurt so getting him drunk is your best bet- and that’s saying something. After you’ve threaded your needle and prepared a bandage you look down and see that the alcohol is nearly gone. You sigh “for Christs sake Sean” you supposed you hadn’t been specific with him, you snatch the bottle back. “Lean back for me” you hold the bottle up to his face “anything for you pretty girl” he flashes his teeth at you but you can’t focus on it. You press your free hand over his eyes and pour the alcohol into his wound, he barely flinches, you supposed after what those bounty hunters did to him this must not compare in the slightest.

There’s exactly three stitches in Sean’s face before he starts yapping again. He sighs heavily “I’d treat ya well y’know” you laugh “sure you would” you like Sean, in that enduring little brother who’s hit puberty and doesn’t know when enough is enough kind of way- you’d never go there. You stiffen when you feel his hands on your waist, his slender fingers pinch the fabric of your skirts that lay over your hips. “Sean-“ your tone is a warning, but you’re cut off.

“If you wanna keep those hands I suggest you get’em off my woman Irishman”

[dirtysvthoughts]

under the neon lights

tags/warnings: smut, pwp, boyfriend! jihoon, switch! jihoon & reader, at the universe factory (cause why not), dick sucking, some dirty talk, pet names (honey, baby, etc.), some fluff at the beginning, based off that one welive (as seen in the photos cause he looked to fucking good 😩)

word count: 1.4k

notes: happy birthday to the man who has been constantly and consistently wrecking my bias list for almost 5 years 🤍 words can’t express how much i love jihoon, he works so hard and deserves so much - i hope he gets to relax a little and receives so much love and the best head on his special day 🥹 but in all seriousness, i really do love and admire him - happy birthday jihoon!! without further ado, enjoy besties! thank you to @wongyuseokie for helping me come up with the title!

11:40 p.m.

in 20 minutes it would be the 22nd, and you would get to celebrate the love of your life’s birthday. you were very excited, but you were hoping jihoon would for once - decide to take a night out of his studio and relax for a bit. but knowing him, he would be at the universe factory if he got the chance, and it would be hard to persuade him otherwise.

so that’s where you are currently, sitting in your boyfriend’s lap while he sits in his chair, scrolling and clicking through different audio files on his desktop, compiling items together. your hands softly stroke the ends of his hair, not sure if the humming coming out of his mouth was from your movements or if he was thinking to himself. your eyes momentarily flit to the digital clock on lower right side of the screen, the time getting close to 11:45 pm. you tap jihoon’s shoulder twice to get his attention.

“hmmm?” he responds, still looking at his desktop.

“hoon, why don’t you shut everything down for right now? there’s only a few minutes left until your birthday, and i had a few ideas in mind..” you begin to trail off as you wrap your hand around his bicep, legs tightening together as you feel how strong he is.

jihoon sighs. he appreciates that you were trying to make more out of his birthday, but he always saw it as just another day. of course he appreciated all the love he received, but he didn’t want things to become such a big fuss. “babe, you know you don’t have to make any extra effort.. just this is enough - me, you, my music, and this ambiance,” he gestures to the turquoise colored lights filling the dark studio.

“i know, i know, but i just wanna make sure i celebrate you in the best way i can. that’s how much you mean to me baby,” you kiss jihoon’s cheek and he can’t help the blush that makes its way on his face. he intertwines your hands with his as he kisses it, your body moving closer toward his touch.

“you’re the best, you know that don’t you?” he asks, looking into your eyes. you nod your head as you shrink into his body, loving the way he envelops around you. there are a few moments of silence but after, jihoon’s mind quickly remembers what you said earlier.

“what did you mean by ideas?”

“hm? what ideas?” you question a little confused.

“remember, you said there were only a few minutes left until my birthday and you said you had a few ideas in mind. those ideas.”

you quickly bite your lip, getting excited at what you had practically daydreamed even before you got to the universe factory. for the longest, you wanted to give your boyfriend the messiest head in his workplace, especially attracted to the thought that no one would walk in. it would just be you two giving him the pleasure he so rightfully deserved.

“well, one idea involves both of us on the couch,” you hinted, pointing in the direction of the soft large leather piece. you avoid eye contact with jihoon as you play with the hem of his black shirt. “we could see what happens from there, but that’s the first step.”

jihoon still couldn’t tell what you were planning, but he couldn’t deny the sudden urge in his body to get up and move. he pats your thigh, motioning with his hand for you to stand up. after you stand, he walks over to the couch and you follow behind him - but when jihoon takes a seat, you promptly kneel on the floor, making sure your body was front and center in relation to your boyfriend.

the second your knees hit the floor, that’s when things finally click for jihoon. “that’s what she meant..” he thinks to himself, but his face doesn’t do a good job of hiding his discovery, in which you quickly take notice.

“guess you figured it out now, huh?” you tease, slowly rubbing your hands across his thighs. “i’ve been thinking about this for a while now.. going down on you in your workplace,” you lean your head against his thigh, innocent eyes staring into his intrigued gaze.

jihoon inhales sharply as your fingers delicately dance across the lower half of his body, dangerously approaching his crotch. you start to palm him through his pants, his breathing becoming shuddered as he grows harder with every touch and graze.

your hands finally reach the waistline of his pants, wanting to finally get what you’ve been waiting for. “can i take these off, honey?” you muse sweetly, your still innocent eyes making jihoon crave for more. he nods in response, “go ahead,” a breathless whisper leaving his lips.

with his help, you pull jihoon’s pants and boxers down to his ankles, revealing his growing, slightly leaning dick, with a perfect red tip to match. “mmm, so big and all for me to taste,” you lick your lips as you inhale his scent, moaning even more at how attractive your lover is.

your lips finally make their way down to his tip, giving jihoon a little kitten lick. a smile makes its way on your face as he groans out, his hands flying to reach the nape of your neck. you give him some more kitten licks, each one causing more beads of cum to spill out, jihoon’s breathing speeding up a bit.

“shit..” he breathes out, his eyes closed for a second and his head tilts back. using the opportunity, you take more of jihoon in your mouth, his full tip and then some now at the mercy of your tongue. the muscle begins to roam across his dick, your head starting to bob at the new intensity you were getting him off to.

you brace your hand on his thigh yet again, this time hollowing your cheeks out to take even more of him in. your nose pushes in closer as you can feel his tip finally near the back of your throat. jihoon doesn’t even try to lower how loud his moans were now, too engulfed in your presence to care about anyone or anything else.

“you naughty baby girl.. getting me off like the needy little thing you are,” his chuckle turns into another groan as you start to gag slightly on his dick. “taking me all the way to back of your throat.. mmm, such a good girl..”

if you weren’t wearing panties, you’re pretty sure you would’ve been dripping onto the floor by now. this was probably the best head you’ve given him and he had the dirty talk to match the experience.

then, jihoon starts to guide your pacing, causing you to go faster and to moan around him consistently. the hand still on the nape of your neck slightly grips at your skin, not hard but not soft either.

jihoon taps at your cheek a few moments later, bringing your attention to him as he begins to gasp for air, climax inching towards becoming reality.

“i’m- i’m gonna c-cum, baby.. think you can swallow it all for me?” you nod back, now intensely taking him in and out of your mouth, jihoon’s dick covered in your essence, your throat feeling the tiniest hint of sore - but did you really care? at this point you just wanted to give him the messiest head you possibly could.

it’s then that jihoon releases a high pitched moan and seconds later, cum is spilling into your throat, and you don’t hesitate to swallow every last drop. when he finishes emptying his load, your lick your lips teasingly and jihoon watches as your tongue roams the top half of your lips, lingering on thought of what i would be like to intertwine your tongues together so he could taste him on your mouth.

“my jihoonie tastes so good,” you giggle as you begin to stand up, reading his mind as you insert a legs in between his, kissing him square on his lips. jihoon holds your jaw as he deepens the kiss, both of you melting into each other. when you separate, you take a look again at the clock.

12:05 a.m.

“happy birthday, my love,” you whisper as you pull him in for another kiss, jihoon gently pushing you down onto the couch as he undoes your shorts.

“thank you baby, and i guess my gifts are just gonna keep coming over and over tonight,” he smirks. “can’t wait for you to come inside me.”

[tieronecrush]

seven minutes in heaven (the bathroom)

frankie morales x f!reader

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

summary: it's your roommate ben miller's birthday and he's invited the special forces guys over and asked you to invite some of your friends. the night comes down to a throwback game of seven minutes in heaven. you've been into frankie for months, so when your name and frankie's are pulled together, you can't help but wonder what can happen in seven minutes?

word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of a break up, alcohol use/drunkeness (benny), grumpy frankie, use of pet names (mariposa, hermosa, cariño), dirty talk in spanish (i hate conjugations so pls let me know if anything is wrong lol), mirror sex, unprotected sex, breathplay? (mouth gets covered), pls let me know if i am missing anything

“You gotta be kiddin’ me, man. Why are we playing this shit? We’re all grown adults,” Frankie huffs to your right in the small circle in yours and Ben Miller’s living room. His arms are crossed over his chest, gray t-shirt pulling taut at his shoulders. Warm brown eyes are rolling up to the ceiling under the brim of his Standard Oil hat that you swear is glued to his head — you’ve never seen him without for as long as you’ve lived with Benny — and it works to hide the luscious dark curls that fight to peek out around it.

“Oh, loosen up, Fish! We’re all here to have fun, so just play the game. Everyone here’s agreed to it, and it’s my fucking birthday so you have to do what I say!” Benny leans forward next to you on the couch, projecting his voice toward Frankie and gesturing vaguely around with his hands while his words start to slur together.

You laugh softly, patting Ben’s shoulder and nodding your head to get him to lean back on the couch again instead of trying to get in his friend’s face. Truth was, the prospect of this game did stir up some nerves in your stomach, even as an adult, but you wouldn’t dare go against Benny’s birthday wishes. So, you’re stuck playing Seven Minutes in Heaven with his Special Forces buddies, his brother, and a good mix of your friends that Benny has…taken a liking to.

It was one of the perks he got excited about when you’d come to him, a bit desperate, needing a place to live when your long term boyfriend of four years broke it off with you and asked you to move out. He agreed to have you in his guest room for the foreseeable future until you could scrounge up enough for rent somewhere on your own, and that first weekend he begged to throw you a “welcome party”, which was his ploy to get a bunch of your friends over for him to chat up.

That was a few months ago now, and it happened to also be the first time you met Frankie — Catfish to the Special Forces guys.

And since then, it’s been months filled with tension between you two, awkward interactions and quick touches to pass him drinks or him scooting behind you in your tiny kitchen when he was over. It was always heated with you two, electricity flowing with a current and waiting for a spark. But Frankie was a gentleman, never assuming or overly forthcoming, and you were, well, rusty. Not dating in four years really throws you for a loop when trying to hook up with someone.

Frankie’s eyes meet yours when your laugh reaches him, a flash of excitement evident in the widening of his pupils. A smile stretches across your face at him, shaking your head.

“Probably don’t want to go against this birthday boy, Frankie. He’s not afraid to guilt you into things, or worse, just bother the shit out of you until you do what he wants. Plus, nobody has to know what does or doesn’t happen behind the door.”

Ben whips his head towards you with an exaggerated shock in his face, Frankie’s chuckle low as everyone else laughs.

“Don’t give him any ideas about not fully immersing in the game. He’s just bein’ a grumpy old bastard.”

Benny turns away from you as Frankie rolls his eyes again, the birthday boy pulling out two names from the bowl in the center. It ends up being one of your friends and Santiago, which earns a cheer knowing his suave reputation. Once the two are back in the bathroom, the younger Miller brother sets a timer on his phone and everyone gets to chatting and drinking again. You and Benny argued back and forth before the party about using the other’s room for the game, finally deciding to use the hall bath for sake of neutrality. And clean sheets.

A handful of rounds have come and gone, people returning with smirks or poker faces, everyone trying to pull out any information from the participants. You have yet to go, and it’s the same case for Frankie. Benny’s been choosing the names for everyone, hiding them close to his chest and throwing them back in the bowl to be selected again.

You watch Ben pick out two new slips, reading your name off of the first one. Echoes of your quickening pulse thud in your ears, heat rooting across the nape of your neck. Ben’s eyes dart to Pope as he looks at the second slip of paper, and your stomach drops with disappointment from the high hopes you didn’t realize you had. Your own eyes fall to your lap as you wait to hear Santiago’s name out loud, molars biting the inside of your cheek to attempt to swallow your small pill of upset.

“And Fish.”

Your vision fills with Ben’s side profile, your stomach now doing somersaults as nerves begin to take over. Your mouth dries, tongue pushing against the roof of your mouth and sucking in your cheeks to try to conjure up any saliva. Frankie seems nearly as surprised, or is it nervous? Contempt? He’s hard to read at the moment; the only clues into his reaction are the split second of widened eyes and rubbing his palms up and down his denim-clad thighs before he stands and looks at you.

The hooting and hollering start when you get up from your spot on the couch, small steps leading Frankie and yourself down the hallway away from the party and into your bathroom. Nothing is said as he closes the door and locks it, his large frame turning back to face you across the small tiled floor while he leans back on the door’s surface.

His eyes lock on you, pinprick shocks following their wake as he takes you in from head to toe. There’s still a neutral expression on his face, hands slipped into his front pockets. Your own gaze fixed on your tray of makeup at the side of vanity, anxious fingers reaching out to fidget with a lip gloss. The silence in the room is deafening, the muffled sounds of the group only filling the dead air so much. After what feels like an eternity, you can’t take it, clearing your throat and speaking up.

“We don’t, um, obviously don’t have to do anything.”

You’re still not looking at Frankie when you hear his gruff voice respond.

“Is that what you want, mariposa? To do nothing?”

He grabs your attention with the nickname, a swirl of butterflies batting their wings wildly in your gut when you take in a new expression on his face. Tender eyes with a flirty smirk. Pushing off of the door, his strides take him only two steps before he’s in front of you, hand pulling his hat up and the other raking through his hair in a nervous twitch. Your lower back presses into the edge of the countertop, mouth blubbering like a fish as you try to formulate a sentence.

“Cause, if I’m honest, I don’t want to do nothing,” Frankie’s hand finds the counter at your side, one arm brushing against your shirt. His other reaches for your cheek, hovering over close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off of his palm, “I’ve really wanted to kiss you since I met you. Can I please do that, hermosa?”

“Yeah, you can, Frankie,” comes out breathy and pathetic from your mouth, half a whimper as you wait for the moment you’ve thought of since you saw him in your kitchen.

In an instant, Frankie’s lips are on yours in a gentle but confident kiss. His hand has found your cheek finally, laying passively before it grips tighter and tilts your head back to give him more leverage over you. The embrace turns heady, his mouth slanted into yours as the two of you move together quickly to make up for all the lost moments from months prior.

When his tongue melds against yours, a soft moan slips out and is swallowed into his mouth. The noise pushes Frankie toward you, close to the point that his front is pressed entirely against you. You can feel how hard he is, the way his bulge digs in against you sending another moan out of your mouth. His large hands leave their places on your cheek and the counter, grabbing fistfuls of your hips and your ass. Frankie pulls away enough to speak against your swollen lips, short and demanding.

“Up.”

With one effortless lift as you jump, you're seated on the countertop, and Frankie’s kissing you hard again. Your own hands rest one on his shoulder, the other reaching to take his cap off and discard it on the ground, fingers combing through his hair. An arm wraps around your lower back, tugging you across the cool stone surface to the edge. His other hand grips the back of your thigh, pulling your legs further apart to slot himself between them, grinding himself against your clothed center. The feeling of pressure on your clit makes your head fall back from his kiss, a whimper pulling out of your chest as your hips work to catch more of the feeling.

“Y’know, I’m pretty sure we don’t have much time left before someone’s gonna be banging down the door, but I want you so bad right now, hermosa.”

Your head drops forward again, staring into Frankie’s eyes that are very clearly blackened with desire even in the low lighting of the bathroom. Licking your bottom lip, you nod quickly and mutter out.

“Fuck me, Frankie. I don’t care how fast or rough you need to be, just please fuck me.”

A groan comes from him at your words as he grabs you again, dragging you off the counter to stand on your feet again. His hands on your hips turn you around to face the mirror, making eye contact in the reflection.

“Take your shorts and panties off for me, cariño. Gotta be quick.” He winks at you, a light smack to your ass before he pops the button on his jeans and drags the zipper down. You do the same with your denim shorts, dropping the material along with your underwear to your ankles, stepping one out.

Behind you, Frankie has pulled his pants and boxers halfway down his thighs. One of his hands finds your lower back, gently coaxing you to bend forward on the counter. His other set of fingers prod through your folds, a breathy moan coming from him as he feels your wetness.

“This all from me kissing you, hermosa?”

“Nah uh. It’s from just being in the same room as you all night.”

“Mmm, you’ve wanted me that bad, angel? Should’ve said something. We could’ve been having lots of fun these past few months.”

“I was—I was shy.”

Frankie shakes his head as he looks at you in the mirror, a devilish smirk on his face.

“Don’t think you’re shy now, cariño. Eres una chica traviesa (You’re a naughty girl),” his fingers slip into your entrance for a few ticks, a gasp fogging the glass in front of you as he pulls them out, “You ready for me, mariposa? Might be a lot to take.”

He winks with a smug look on his face, messy curls hanging over his forehead and framing his face.

“Francisco, just fuck me already. We’re losing time that you could be inside of me.” Your frustration bubbles over out of impatience. He waits for another beat to tease you, and when you open your mouth to complain again, he drives his cock into you.

His smugness was granted — the way he’s filling you up completely is unlike anyone you’ve had before.

As if he knew your reaction before it happened, his hand covers your mouth to muffle the loud moan that jerks out of you. Frankie wastes no time, his thrusts starting fast and hard from behind.

“This what you wanted, mariposa? Wanted me to fuck your hard and fast? A mi chica le gusta sucio, no? (My girl likes it dirty, right?)”

Your response is stifled by his hand, the only sounds in the room Frankie’s low voice and the slap of his thighs against your ass. Your eyes screw shut at the feeling of his cock dragging in and out of your walls quickly, the head of his length brushing that extra sensitive spot inside of you.

“Nah uh, cariño. Eyes open. Want you to watch me fuck you like the dirty girl you are.” Frankie’s hand squeezes your ass tightly, a yelp coming out of your mouth from behind his hand. You open your eyes and look at him in the mirror, sweat building on your forehead and your exposed collarbone. He makes eye contact with you in the reflection, his hips fucking into you rougher.

“Fuck, don’t you look pretty taking my cock? Es todo lo que soñaste, hermosa? (Is it everything you dreamed of, beautiful?)”

Your tongue pokes out of your mouth, licking the salty skin of his fingers. Frankie groans quietly and shifts the position of his hand, two of his thick fingers pressing in between your lips to fill your mouth.

“Chupa, cariño. Suck.”

Following his demand, your cheeks concave and your tongue swirls around them in your mouth. Frankie’s eyes darken further as he watches in the reflection, thrusts becoming sloppier.

“‘M so close, cariño, don’t think I can last much longer. You gotta be quiet while I take care of you, yeah?”

Without an answer, his fingers slip from your mouth. His other hand finds your lower stomach, pulling you up to stand with your shoulders against his chest, cock filling you up with each drag of his hips. The fingers wet with your saliva are quick to circle your clit, the extra stimulation barreling you towards the edge.

“Oh fuck, Frankie! Yes, yes, yes!” Your whines are as quiet as you can make them, the back of your head pressing hard into his shoulder as his next thrust sends your vision black and muscles taut. Every thought in your brain seeps away, pleasure filling every crevice of you.

Your walls squeeze around his cock, nails digging into his arm around you as he fucks you through your orgasm while chasing his own.

“Fucking hell, mariposa. Pussy’s fucking milking my cock, god. So tight. Eres tan perfecta para mi (You are so perfect for me).”

He thrusts his cock one, two, three more times before he pulls out quickly, replacing the feeling of you with his fist and repeating your name over and over under his breath. The sound of your come around his cock nearly drops you to your knees to take him in your mouth, but the looming pressure of time keeps you standing, compromising by bending over the counter again. Ropes of his warm come paint your ass and your wet cunt, a whine falling from your lips as his own soft, melodic whimpers fill your ears.

It’s quiet in the room except for the gasps of breaths you both take to calm down, eye contact made through the mirror as you both smile widely at each other. Nothing else is spoken as Frankie grabs tissues from the shelf above the toilet, wiping his come from your skin. Before he clean it up entirely, you swipe a fingertip through one streak, bring it to your lips to suck it clean. His mouth hangs open at the sight and you smirk satisfied, winking before you pull up your underwear and fasten your shorts up again.

Both of you are buttoning as a fist pounds on the door, the sound of a phone alarm following it. Benny’s voice booms from the other side, a cackle evident in his tone.

“Time’s up, boring fucks!”

Frankie looks at you with a sweet smile, nodding toward the door, “Ready?”

You exhale a chuckle and nod, taking a look in the mirror and making eye contact with Frankie as he looks at your reflection tenderly. Your hands brush at your hair, tapping the sweaty makeup back into your skin. Frankie shakes his head behind you, tugging you around by your belt loops. He leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Ladies first, mariposa.”

You step ahead of him, swinging the door open after twisting the lock undone and being met with a stumbling Benny on the other side.

He looks between the two of you, suspicion on his face as he tries to read your minds. Both of you have a poker face on, and he groans, shaking his head.

“Took you both long enough. What, were you fixing your clothes?”

“No, Frankie was just watching as I fixed up my makeup and had a catch-up. Nothing exciting for you to gossip about, Benny.”

He groans, marching back to the living room, “They didn’t do anything! Just fucking talked like losers.”

Frankie chuckles behind you, his warm palm rubbing against your lower back as you walk down the hall in front of him. His touch drops from you when you enter the party, both of you returning to your original seats and falling back into the conversation as the game switches to Truth or Dare.

Santiago glances at Frankie sitting next to him, chuckling to himself, “Zipper’s down, Fish.”

IF YOU WANT TO BE ON THE TAGLIST, PLEASE FILL THIS FORM OUT! thank you!

taglist (everything/frankie): @vee-bees-blog @joelsflannel @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @swiftispunk @northernbluess @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @addictedtotlou @cannolighost @atinylittlepain

[reverie-starlight]

{the video call incident ~ MSBY manager!reader}

{sakusa x GN!reader}

aka: you and sakusa are trying to keep your relationship under wraps from the rest of the team and break the news slowly. key word trying. gone wrong.

warnings: none, really, just humor/bantering/insults, fluff. also sakusa is sweet towards you. idc if you think he’s mean, I just think he’s so soft with his partner. miya twins and reader have been friends since before the timeskip but it’s only briefly mentioned. ONE suggestive line by Hinata... mildly suggestive at the very end.

notes: I ADORE this piece, it might be one of my favourite fics of mine. I kinda wanna do an MSBY manager series with the different guys... anyone interested? Also- every time I was mean to Atsumu in this fic I felt actual pain. I love him too much.

there is... a LOT of dialogue in this fic. just so you know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Kiyoomi, stop,” you laughed as you pushed you boyfriend back slightly. 

He had an early practice the next morning (technically as his team manager you did, too) but he was currently standing in the front hall of your apartment, arms wrapped around you and pressing kisses to your face. 

“No,” he said in between kisses, smiling slightly, “why should I?”

You didn’t have a good enough reason to give him and he knew that. He continued his actions and you sighed.

“Kiyoomi, you and I both know that I’d be more than happy to let you spend the night, but if we show up tomorrow in the same car for the second time this month, the guys are going to get suspicious.”

Sakusa sighed. “I know, I just want to appreciate you a little longer. I feel bad for keeping my distance at practice today. Meian is probably onto us and I wanted to redirect his focus.”

You smiled at him. “I’m sure he’s already figured it out. Better him than the trouble trio.”

He hummed in agreement.

The two of you had been keeping your relationship a secret for the past eight months. You’d been the MSBY manager for a couple years now, starting around the same time Sakusa was recruited, and at the end of the last season, after a big game, he had finally asked you out. (“Adrenaline and high off of a win,” he had reasoned when you questioned why he chose that moment.)

The only reason it was kept a secret was because some of the team members were rather… excitable.

Namely Atsumu, Bokuto and Hinata.

You loved the team you managed, and you loved their personalities. Really, you did.

Despite that love, you might as well be those three’s babysitter.

Add your boyfriend to the mix and things got even more chaotic. However, you did love to see how he interacted with them. Something about it is what drew you to him in the first place. (Your friends had made it clear that your type was apparently slightly mean tall guys who turn to mush behind closed doors. You hadn’t agreed until you met Sakusa.)

That aside, telling the team would result in chaos. The trio would accuse you of betrayal, they’d stare at you both during any small interactions and it would ultimately disrupt the team’s dynamic.

So you both decided to keep it a secret until the end of the current season so they could digest the news easier and have everything be mostly normal by time the next game season rolled around.

You tried one more time to push him off and he sighed. He gave you three more quick pecks and unwrapped his arms from around your waist.

“Fine, I’ll go,” he said, reaching for his coat.

You were about to help him into it when he suddenly patted his pockets in a panic. “I left my phone in the living room, can I go get it?”

You nodded and he moved back into the main part of the apartment just as your phone started ringing. You rolled your eyes when you realized who it was. You swiped the accept call button and groaned when he popped up on the screen with messy towel dried hair and a hyper look on his face. Oh brother.

“What, Atsumu?” You really didn’t want to pick up at that moment, but you knew that if you ignored it he’d either keep calling non-stop or be all pouty about it at practice tomorrow.

Neither option was favourable.

“Y/n! ‘m bored. Ya gotta keep me company.” 

You frowned. “You couldn’t call Bokuto or Hinata? Or Sakusa?”

“Neither of ‘em picked up when I called. And omi-omi doesn’t pick up unless he already knows why I’d be callin’ so I didn’t bother.”

“Well I’m really sorry, Atsumu, but you caught me at a bad time, I’m busy right now,” you tried to sound sympathetic but it came off as rushed.

He was still your friend and you didn’t like ignoring him, but he really did catch you at the worst time.

Sakusa came back into the front hall looking like he was about to say something but stopped when he saw you were on the phone.

“But Y/nnnnn!” He rolled his eyes and let out an involuntary scoff when he heard Atsumu’s voice.

He clapped a hand over his mouth and looked at you with wide eyes.

You hoped the man on the screen hadn’t heard that but even if he hadn’t, the panicked look on your face and the way your eyes flicked to something behind your phone definitely tipped him off.

A wide smirk took over his face when you looked back at your phone and you started shaking your head.

“Do ya have a boy over, Y/n? Is that what this is?”

“Shut up, no I don’t.” you started but you were cut off.

“OH SHIT YOU DO! SHOW ‘IS FACE, WHO IS HE? WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US? WHO’VE YA BEEN-“

You ended the call.

Sakusa slowly took his hand away from his mouth and looked at you. It was silent for a good three seconds before he said “That’s on me.”

“It’s fine, he doesn’t know who it was.”

“Do you think you can keep him from telling anyone?”

Both of your phones started buzzing at the same time. 

“Too late,” you said in unison.

Suddenly a video call from the group chat came through. “Shit,”

“Okay, Kiyoomi, I think it’s best that you go now, if you join the call from your place it’ll be less suspicious.”

He nodded. “Good idea,” he rushed to get his coat and shoes on and kissed you once before heading out. “I love you and I’m sorry if this goes badly.”

You returned his affection and locked the door before joining the group call. Hinata was there, too.

“Atsumu. I swear to god, you didn’t need to turn this into a whole thing. Hi Hinata.”

The orange haired boy beamed at you and waved. “Hi Y/n! How are you?” 

“Shoyo! Our dear manager has A BOY OVER.”

“Oh, are you dating someone, Y/n?” 

“I’m n-”

“WHY AM I THE ONLY ONE FREAKIN’ OUT OVER THIS?”

You rolled your eyes once again. “Because, Miya, not everyone is as invested in my personal life as you are.”

He gasped at the use of his last name and was about to throw something back at you when Bokuto joined the call on his evening jog. Just great. If Atsumu successfully managed to rile him up, Hinata would surely follow soon after. You needed to do damage control. 

Quickly exiting the screen of the call, you texted your boyfriend.

I need you to knock Atsumu down a peg, please join the call. 

Oh, my pleasure.

As you were texting him, you heard Bokuto and Hinata rambling on about tomorrow’s practice. The setter looked mildly annoyed that no one was paying attention to him anymore. 

“Bokkun!! Listen to me for a minute!! Y/n has a-”

At long last, Sakusa joined the call from what looked like the inside of the grocery store five minutes from his house.

“Omi! What’re you doing here? You never join our video calls unless Y/n makes you- wait where the hell are ya?”

“It was a misclick, don’t get too excited, Miya. And you interrupted my grocery shopping, if you must know.”

“Well don’t leave! You’re gonna wan’ to hear this.”

Sakusa sighed. “I’m sure I won’t.”

You had to bite back a smile at the faux bored look on his face.

“OKAY, Bokkun, Omi-Omi, Y/N HAS A BOY OVER. AND THEY WON’T TELL US WHO.”

Sakusa blinked. “Miya, why do you care so much about our manager’s personal life? Is your own that boring? Are you so unsatisfied that you have to live vicariously through other people’s? Just watch reality TV if that’s the case, I’m sure Y/n would appreciate it as well.”

You let a small laugh out at the sight of your setter looking like he was just slapped across the face.

“LISTEN ‘ERE, SAKUSA-”

Your boyfriend promptly kicked him out of the call, looking rather pleased with himself.

Bokuto on the other hand...

“WOAHH, Y/N WHO IS IT? TELL US! YOU CAN TRUST US!”

Aaaand now Hinata wanted in on the action. “YEAH, YOU CAN TELL US Y/N!”

Atsumu rejoined the call not a second later. “WHY’D YA KICK ME OUT? Y’know what? Fine. I’m adding someone else to the call.”

You gasped when a familiar contact picture popped up on the screen and the connceting dots appeared. 

“Oh for the love of- Your brother, Atsumu, really?? Don’t drag him into this.”

The other (and in your opinion at this particular moment- the better) Miya twin finally picked up. “Uh. Hi? Whaddaya need, 'tusmu?”

“SAMU, Y/n has a boy over.”

“Okay, and?” You’ll give him credit for at least trying to look uninterested.

“They come into your restaurant sometimes don’t they? Have they ever brought a guy with them?”

“Atsumu, please just drop it-” but your pleas fell on deaf ears. 

Osamu shook his head and you almost, almost thought you were in the clear until...

“They only brought Sakusa in one time last month... and Suna did mention that he saw them together when you were all in Tokyo for some matches.”

Both of the Miya twins were dead to you. You silently took back everything you said about Samu being the better one. Years of friendship down the drain. 

You thought he’d have your back on this one but you forgot that, at heart, Osamu is just as much of a little shit as his twin. 

“Osamu!” You shouted, betrayed. 

He shrugged. “Sorry, Y/n.”

Atsumu glared at the screen. “As if it’d be Omi-Omi. We’d definitely know if it was him. Y/n, it wouldn’t have come to this point if ya had just told us who’s with you right now.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m home alone right now, genius, he’s long gone. And it isn’t any of your business!”

At that moment everything you’d been working so hard to keep a secret crumbled before your eyes. 

Bokuto suddenly had a look of realization wash over his face. 

Shit.

“Wait, if that’s the case, then could it be Omi after all? I ran into him while he was walking in the opposite direction of Y/n’s apartment building when I passed by on my jog ten minutes ago.” He said it totally innocently, as if you having Sakusa over wasn’t as big as Atsumu was making it out to be.

The call went silent for a solid minute before Atsumu started speaking. 

“Bokkun, what did you sa-”

Oops, there goes Atsumu again.

“I sai-”

Oh no, Bokuto too.

You and Sakusa stared at the screen in shock, waiting to see Hinata’s reaction.

Osamu just smirked and waved goodbye before signing off himself. 

Hinata just smiled at the two of you. “Congratulations! I’m really happy for you guys... do you congratulate friends when you find out they’re sleeping together?”

Hinata, your sweet sunshine friend was successful in unfreezing the both of you. “It’s not like that, Hinata-”

“Not normally, no.”

You glared at Sakusa (who was now back in his apartment without a mask) but he just smirked at you. “Kiyoomi.” 

“Alright, I’m sorry.”

“Anyway,” you tried again. “Hinata, we’re dating. We have been for a while.”

“Oh! That definitely calls for celebration then!” 

You smiled slightly before the banished returned to the call. 

“’kay, ya really need to stop doin’ that.” Atsumu said immediately. 

“Why was I kicked out, Y/n? You’re not mad at me are you?”

“No, Bokuto, of course not.” 

“Stop ignorin’ me!”

“Miya, stop being a pest.”

“Guys!! They’re dating! I was right.” 

You froze again. “Hinata... what did you say?”

“...nothing.” 

“Don’t make me kick you out of this call.”

“Fine! I knew you guys were dating. It was kind of obvious.”

“What do you mean obvious, Hinata?” Sakusa asked. 

You shared a glance with him through the screen in confusion. You were both so sure you were hiding it well. Actually... you knew you were hiding it well, considering Atsumu and Bokuto didn’t catch on until now.

“Well, one day a few months ago I may have caught you two making out behind the gym. At that point I thought it was just that kind of relationship and figured it wasn’t my business. But then a few weeks ago, after Sakusa and Atsumu had gotten into an argument at practice, he called Komori-”

“Ah, Shoyo, let’s not-”

“You have my cousin’s number?” Sakusa hissed.

“He does!” 

“Bokkun, seriously, stop-”

“I’m not letting this go, Miya.”

“Hinata, please continue.”

“And Atsumu asked about his relationship status because he wanted blackmail or something. Then Komori said that his lips were sealed, he promised Sakusa he wouldn’t say anything to anyone. I put two and two together, Bokuto thought he was just being a good cousin and let it go, and Atsumu assumed Sakusa was just embarrassed about being single. After that I kinda noticed that you two seemed closer and assumed everyone else on the team knew too. I tried to ask Atsumu about it but he was dead set on not believing you’d date-in his words- ‘an ass like omi-omi’”

You stared at Hinata with wide eyes. “You knew for that long... and managed not to let it slip?”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t hard. I was focused on practice most of the time anyway, so it honestly just slipped my mind.”

Maybe you didn’t give Hinata enough credit. 

“Atsumu, you owe me a meat bun now since I was right!”

Or maybe you were justified with your initial feeling. 

“You bet on us being together?!”

It was going to be a long night. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BONUS:

After explaining everything to the trouble trio about why you didn’t tell them, you were left on call with Sakusa.

“Well... that was certainly something.” He said.

“Mmhmm,” You looked at him. “Kiyoomi...”

He offered you a soft grin. “I’m already putting my shoes on. I’ll be there soon. Now you have no excuses for not letting me stay the night.”

You giggled and rested your chin on your palm. “I guess not. It’s a shame, really, you’re getting to be so clingy lately. Ever heard of the term personal space?”

“Oh please,” he scoffed. “says the one who literally will not let go of me unless I physically detach you from my body most days.”

“You guys are disgustingly sweet.”

“What are you still doing here, Atsumu?! I thought you left?”

“I snuck back in.”

“Well leave.”

“Sure. But I’m telling everyone how soft you are for our manager tomorrow morning.”

Sakusa raised an eyebrow. “You really think anyone will believe you without proof?”

The last thing you heard before Sakusa blew you a kiss was Atsumu groaning as he was kicked from the call one last time upon realizing he in fact does not have proof.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BONUS 2:

You woke up the next morning completely intertwined with Sakusa. 

“My love, wake up. We’re going to be late.”

You groaned and snuggled into his side more, shivering slightly when he traced lines on the skin of your back. He laughed and pried you off of him. 

“Mm no, five more minutes.” 

“Come on, Y/n/n, if we’re late you know we’ll never hear the end of it. We don’t have the luxury of secrecy anymore. Besides,” he poked you in the stomach and leaned in closer to you. “you’re the one who insisted on staying up late last night. I tried to tell you that this would happen, but you were just so needy-”

“Okay, okay, I’m up,” you cut him off, then mumbled under your breath “but I didn’t hear you complaining much.”

You shrieked when two arms wrapped around your waist and you were pulled against his chest. “I’m sorry did you say something, my dear?”

It didn’t matter if you were late or not in the end, because when you entered the gym, you were greeted with a round of applause and some whistles. And your boyfriend was weighed down by the endless teasing about his messed up hair and marks on his chest in the changing room. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[bunji-enthusiast]

Requester ⇨ [Hi this is my first time. Can I ask for Lancelot and Tristan (separately) with sassy bubbly s/o who they’ve known their whole life and how their relationship is like. If it’s not to much could you add their nicknames for each other and the cute things they do for their s/o Thank you.]

Heyyyy! Happy to be the very first one you requested! We can always depend on these two boys for the fluff :D also sorry if you see the way my posts are set up, I'm trying to find something to work with that I feel okay with.

Content || grammar errors, sassy banter, fluff, headcanons, gender-neutral reader.

𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚗, 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢 (𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚗!)

Tristan generally loves you very much, even before the two of you were official! But every time you exude such a sassiness that he cannot, he can't help but laugh. The prince of Liones he may be, but you can just call him the prince of laughter. He can't help it, it sets him off every time!

There is one main similarity between the both of you, and that is your bubbly sides. Lots of your friends and even both your families just make major comparisons this way, which you never seem to hear the end of. Tristan however just loves when you can seem so happy, kind and full of life.

The one strengthening factor behind your relationship, is that you two have known each other for as long you can remember since childhood and even into your teenage years. Tristan knows every little detail; what you like, what you dislike, what you hate and your favorite memories. He can't really help but be in-love with every single aspect of you.

Tristan does worry quite a lot when you are out on missions, but he does often get reminded about how resilient you can be - especially with the amount of comments you make in combat. The nephilim is still left with worry though even when you do come back; did you get injured, burned, or imprisoned? the amount of things run ample through his mind enough.

He is a very avid and proud lover, just like his father. Though he is less perverted, as he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. Tristan always likes to be very open about his love toward you, even if he does find himself with a blushing expression.

with all lovers, there is a connection that trescends the apparent obvious understanding. The way you know Tristan like the back of your hand when he is happy, or worried. The way he knows you when you are bashful or even sad.

He is unusually reminded and wonders if you have a lack of moral guidance when you are quite sassy, not even barring to hold back the blunt words that spill from your lips towards enemies and knights of chaos. Tristan wonders just what had happened to you when he had not been around in each other's earlier years.

Even if there are things about yourself that your insecure, Tristan is that kind of boy that will love all your insecurities for you. He has enough love going around, so he will love those as well. The prince will not take your self-deprecation if he doesn't at least refute it every time with a compliment, he hates when you see yourself that way.

In the privacy of his room, he certainly sees a side to you that no one else would be able to. You're far more soft and albeit grumpier when sleepy, but lots and lots of cuddles ensue, though somewhat whine and complain that he can be a bit cold.

If you end up sick, he just ruffles and pats your hair when you complain about it with snarky and sassy comments. But he won't just stop there, Tristan will help you work through it. Soup, warm cloth and even drawing you a bath.

Sometimes in tense moments, just to stay grounded, you two mouth to one another: 'I love you'. It generally helps, quite a lot. As he does find emotions difficult to deal with often, but just saying that alone helps him stay tethered to the earth.

This nephilim loves, loves, loves to give you gifts. In about anything, he finds that reminds him of you is something he will give to you as a gift. Tristan does hope that you don't find this annoying though, he just cares about you very much.

He knows you can defend yourself when being insulted, so when you fire one right back -- he just smiles. Tristan can't help but be proud, he doesn't know why but he just is. He loves when you don't just take it, and defend yourself (if verbally, or even physically).

Tristan loves holding hands with you if possibly, only particularly at appropriate times. The prince is very huge on PDA, and loves being affectionate with you. Though he often hears a lot of jesting from you whilst you hold hands with him, Tristan knows, and just grins.

You most likely lead half the conversations, seemingly always able to find something to say. He doesn't mind, and occasionally gives input when he feels he needs too. He isn't an avid talker most of the time, and tends to be quite formal anyway, so he just opts for listening to you. There are always jokes in each and every one of your conversations, your the one making them.

In the more quiet moments, Tristan and you will dance together. Maybe even bumble over each other's footsteps and laugh about it, and touching each other's foreheads and talking about things that bother you or things that brightened your day.

However, it doesn't mean your the only talker. Tristan may be quiet when you talk, but he can have a lot of things to say as well. Though he always just wants you to know he's actually listening to the things your saying.

Tristan isn't much of a nickname giver, but he does have many affectionate nicknames he reserves just for you alone; angel, darling, my love, and my light.

However the nicknames he has for you when you are being completely sassy are different; grizzly, my little philosopher, biscuit, and sunshine. However he always means them with love, he swears! Tristan generally just calls you these nicknames, and you just get even sassier. He loves it.

The two of you play into each other's playful sides, which can be a bit worse for wear, but it always ends up with memories you can look back on with fondness.

You two can quite literally be the perfect match for eachother, considering how laid-back and playful he can be at times, so the both of you are always met with back and forth comments from one another. Sometimes, there is a point to where the others are still surprised that you both have the energy to behave toward each other in such a way.

Lancelot does admire your more bubbly aspects however, and somewhat envies you for it. He wishes he can still have that energy, back to his earlier years of childhood with you. Lancelot can't match it as easily anymore, but he is reminded very fondly every time that side of you comes out. His gaze always lingers on you, not daring to stray for as long as possible, he always wants to burn those expressions into memory.

Beyond the relationship, even before knowing you, he feels a deep sense of despair as if something will happen. Something beyond his control, he feels that with each and every person he comes to hold dear of course. But with you, it delves even deeper, even more worse than before. Lancelot feels at a loss when this feeling surfaces, reminding him of previous failures (lance, please be kind to yourself). He is unsure when this sentiment truly comes to pass. Sometimes even with your sunshine, he still is reminded.

Whenever and however, if Lancelot ends up being the victim of your sassy comments, he just shrugs it off and continues the conversation. It just often shocks others as he usually is quick to bite back, but it didn't happen this time around, not with you.

It helps wholly, that he had known you for as long as he could remember. So even before being official, Lancelot can remember even the most seemingly insignificant details about you. Anything that he remembers, is something he considers of large importance after all. So maybe one day your met with a gift, something you mention offhandedly you liked, just one time. He looks away and says it was just something he saw on the way back, Lancelot will not admit he actually remembered that.

He isn't necessarily a touchy person compared to his father, but Lancelot will hold your hand if you wanted to, with very grumpy comments. You just tease him when he does accept it, to which he just lazily refutes.

Lancelot will defend you if you happen to be insulted, but if you do end up defending yourself, he happily accepts that with a proud-ass smile. He knows you can defend yourself verbally, but the comments you fire right back inspire him. New material for insults.

Often, he ends up cooking for you. You will not find him actually willingly doing that for anyone else, but you alone. Lancelot remembers few of your favorite recipes off the top of his head, so he cooks the appropriate meal concurrent with the time of the day. He definitely had inherited his ability to cook so well from his father, but had made it even better the more he had cooked.

On missions, he tends to worry about you. Out of habit, as he doesn't want anyone he cares about to get hurt, will shadow you the best he can. If he is able to of course, other times he will simply have to trust that you can take care of yourself and come back okay.

Lancelot is a quiet and subtle lover, but you can very much tell easily how much he loves you through acts of service (I will continuously iterate that he is an acts of service lover, sue me). He often will do chores on your behalf, or even patrol with you as often as he can, he can't really find himself doing anything else otherwise lest he actually has something he needs to prioritize.

Sometimes he actually hates that you can understand him, like 'how or why do you know this about me so easily?' You should be far away from his heart. Yet, you wormed so far in and deeply into his heart that he cares for you in a way he would no one else. Lancelot in turn does understand you as well as you do him, so he can catch even the smallest things. Example for telling, that subtle shift in your demeanor.

Such subtle things aren't left unnoticed by either you or Lancelot. maybe his jaw is clenched for some reason, you lightly tell him to unclench. He does. What if your hand was tightened and formed into a fist? Lancelot gently taps the knuckle of your hand with the back of his finger, curled in a way of subtle worry.

It's as if a complete shift in your demeanor when you are insecure (be it very few, or plenty), he will softly tell you something completely positive as an opposite. Lancelot finds it reassuring he was born with the ability to read hearts, i.e the mind in extension. Your thoughts are something that are much easier to read when you have bouts of these moments, and it is much easier for him to help you through it. He understands in a way, but hopes that you can overcome such insecurities one day.

[ivysoul]

CHERRY *ੈ✩‧˚ LEON SCOTT KENNEDY — PART I. [3.3k]

༊*·˚ in which your dad leaves you under the watchful eye of his best friend, leon kennedy, when he’s away on vacation.

[♱] series warnings — age gap (38 & 20), sexual themes, arguing, cheating, overbearing father, angst. more warnings to be added.

[♱] individual chapter warnings — afab!reader, leon’s a bit of a perv, smut, dub-con, oral (m), unprotected p n v, rough sex, one spank, praise, creampie, reader has a serious attitude problem lmfao, + might be some i’m missing, so lmk if there is.

[♱] notes — this is my first ever series i am shitting my pants stop. i’m excited tho !!! smut galore btw bc i am a fucking whore !! like i’m talkin smut every chapter type beat. anyways, please give me feedback, i desire it carnally. also not proofread. special dt @ouchvns bc they were probably more excited abt this than i was LMAO.

series masterlist. ୨୧ next.

༊*·˚ You could feel the anger bubbling in your chest as you looked back and forth at your father and his friend, who you knew, of course. Leave it to your dad to get you a babysitter at your grand old age of twenty years old while he’s out on vacation. When he offered to let you stay at the house while he was away, you had no idea it would come with its own terms and conditions—those being Leon Kennedy himself.

You sighed deeply through your nose as your dad went on and on about rules. You were zoning out through the entire thing, utterly wishing you could just go back up to your room and avoid Leon as a whole (and saying goodbye to your dad. Call it petty, you didn’t care. Petty is what you were).

“Oh, and curfew is 12AM.”

Your eyes shot open so fast you were surprised they didn’t end up on the floor. Mouth falling agape, you just stared blankly at him, hoping it was just some joke and he would take it back. But nope! Classic ol’ dad!

“Are you serious? A curfew?” What you hated the most was that he looked confused as to why you were so upset. “Dad, I’m twenty years old. I don’t need a curfew or a damn babysitter,” you groaned, pointing to Leon. To which he muttered a quiet ‘ouch’.

Your dad shook his head and pursed his lips. “I’m not gonna argue with you about this. Leon’s gonna watch you for the three weeks that I’m gone, and I trust that he’ll take good care of you,” he looked to Leon, “right, Leon?”

Leon smiled at the man as he spoke. “Of course,” and then turned his head to you, his smile falling into a small smirk without even meaning to. “I’ll take very good care of her.”

Leon would be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to you, at least a little bit. The way your hair was long enough to frame your face perfectly, or the way your lips looked when you put your favourite gloss on them. Your clothes always seemed to fit and frame your body perfectly, allowing every curve and dip to be beautifully accentuated. But physical looks aside, Leon also loved how intelligent yet carefree you were. He loved how your personality reminded him so much of the sun—if you weren’t angry, that is. But he also loved your anger. How you made your feelings known and always spoke about what had made you so angry. Everything about you screamed to Leon that you were the most perfect person he’s ever laid his eyes upon, and every time he was around you, it only further proved to be true.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, looking anywhere but the two men in front of you. Your dad smiled and patted Leon on his shoulder before walking up to you, giving you a peck on the cheek, and bidding his farewells. As soon as the door closed behind him, the air grew thick with awkward tension. Your eyes just stared at where his body had disappeared behind the door, as if attempting to summon lasers that drop onto him from above. Leon chuckled airily and shook his head as he looked to the ground.

Your head snapped towards him, eyebrows furrowed and still angry. “What’s so funny?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“Oh, nothing, y’know…” Leon looked at you and saw what type of look you had in your eye. He shouldn’t have found it amusing, really, but he did. And he laughed again.

“Yeah, I’m sure you have soooo much to laugh about, Scott,” he cringed at the use of his middle name. “I bet this whole situation is just so funny to you.”

He nodded and puckered his lips, pretending to think for a moment. “It is, yeah. And don’t call me “Scott,” it’s weird.”

“Sure thing, Scott,” you mumbled loud enough for him to hear as you walked away, heading upstairs to do god-knows-what in your room.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A few days went by and Leon’s babysitting was still just as unbearable as the first.

Every time you’d go to leave the house, he’d interrogate you on where you were going, who you were going with, when you’d be back (because you had to be back), and if the place you were going to was known to be a safe area. The treatment made you feel like a kid again. You shouldn’t be mad at Leon for it, as he was just following the orders your dad had given him, but you were.

Today though, you had managed to slip out of the house without Leon noticing. Sure he had called you about ten times and left you numerous texts and voicemails, but you weren’t answering any of them. You’d even opted to turn your phone completely off.

Though you could barely even focus on what your friends were saying. Your mind was on you dad and why he would even do this. You knew he was protective of you, but when you turned twenty this year, he calmed down a bit. This was like a whole setback of six years.

“Babe? You okay?”

You turned to your boyfriend, Oliver, who had his arm securely wrapped around your waist, rubbing up and down your side. He had a look of concern on his face.

You smiled sweetly and placed a soft kiss to his lips. “‘Course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

One of your friends, Maeve, placed a french fry in her mouth and hummed at your question. “You looked kind of… zoned out. Like, you’re not really here right now.”

“Yeah, are you alright?” Cora, your other friend since elementary school, asked. Her brows were furrowed and she was looking across your face as if to see any hidden confessions lying underneath. She was always able to, the best out of anyone in your life.

You nodded. Sighed. And then confessed.

“Y’know that guy that my dad hired to look after me while he’s away? Well he’s been like, super overbearing. And I know it’s just because my dad told him what to do and all, but it’s still so fucking annoying. Can’t even leave the house without getting attacked with questions. And it’s—”

“Well isn’t this a surprise.”

You didn’t even have to look behind you to know who it was. Unfortunately, you were pretty well acquainted with the voice by now. How in the hell did he find you? Did he put a damn tracker on you that you were unaware of or something?

“Your dad wants you back home. C’mon.”

Your friends all sighed, Oliver squeezed your waist tighter as if to keep you seated. You turned your head to look at Leon. He had an irritated glint in his eyes, yet his kept his voice surprisingly calm.

“Are you serious? You’re taking me away from my friends now?” You complained, placing a hand on your boyfriend’s one on your side. Leon noticed it and almost let out a laugh.

“It’s not me, it’s your dad,” he said simply. “Now let’s go.”

Groaning, you looked to your friends and apologized. They all looked at you with their own apologetic gazes but said their goodbyes. And you took Oliver’s face in your hands and kissed him warmly. “Love you.”

He smiled. “I love you, too.”

As soon as you got inside the house, with Leon not too far behind you, you kicked your shoes off and headed for the stairs. However, his voice sternly called you back down.

“D’you know how worried he was?” His angry glare had stayed since you got into the car with him. Etched onto his face like a tattoo the entire time. “How worried I was?”

“Do you know how annoying it is to have you practically sit on me every damn day?! To have you watch my every move?”

“I’m following orders.”

“I’m so fucking sick of that excuse.”

Leon scoffed and shook his head, averting his gaze to the ground as he placed his hands on his hips. He honestly didn’t know what to say. And neither did you. You two had argued about this every day since he first arrived. And every time it would end the same way: you storming up to your room after yelling your throat raw, not to be heard or seen of again until you need to be let out of the house.

Let out. Like you were a fucking dog.

With a roll of your eyes, you turned on your heels and headed up the stairs, making sure to have your frustration shown through your heavy steps.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Hours went by as you scrolled aimlessly on your phone. You had already finished a book and got caught up on your favourite show, and you were now realizing just how thirsty you were. You checked the time on your phone, the big white numbers that read 3:27AM stared back at you. You weren’t even sure how you weren’t tired yet.

With a sigh, you rolled from your bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor with little pit-pats every time you took a step. The hallways were dark and quiet, the only light was from your phone’s flashlight as you made your way around the very familiar corners of the house. Being out of the comfort of your warm blankets made you realize just how cold you were in only an oversized t-shirt and a pair of your favourite wine coloured lacy underwear. But you didn’t care much to make your way back to your room as you were now approaching the kitchen.

The kitchen that you noticed was lit up. Turning off your mobile flashlight, you stepped closer to the kitchen cautiously and slowly. Once you saw Leon leaning against the counter, you calmed down, but your anger started to bubble up again at the same time. You weren’t sure how that was possible. He looked up at you, eyes lifting from the glass he had in his hands, and then he tilted his entire head up to look at you properly.

His eyes nearly widen when he takes in your clothes—or lack thereof. Your plush thighs on full display and your obvious lack of a bra had his head spinning. God, he was so weird. For imagining what your tits would look like out of the confines of your shirt, but at the same time he didn’t have to do much thinking. The cold made your nipples hard, and they poked through the shirt. He had to look away and hope that you didn’t notice his lingering gaze.

He cleared his throat. “What’re you doin’ up?”

You dismissed his question entirely, taking note of his glass and the liquid in it. Alcohol, of course. You reached into the cabinet to grab a glass, causing your shirt to rise up to your lower belly. Leon blinked. “Isn’t it bad to drink on the job?”

“Honestly, I think a drink or two kinda helps with your attitude.”

Again, you dismissed him. Leon knew now was probably the best time to say what he had been thinking since your last argument, the words he had been trying to come up with since getting the anger out of him. But even then, he’s not great at this. So it’s not going to be ideal.

He sighed through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “Look, I’m uh— I’m sorry about earlier,” you stopped breathing. “But you have to understand that I’m just doing what your dad told me to do—”

“—Bullshit.”

Leon blinked, unintentionally giving you the silence you needed to continue.

“Last time I checked, my dad’s not even here. You don’t have to do everything he says because he’s not here to reprimand you if you don’t. So I like I said earlier, when you were giving that same, shitty excuse, I’m sick of hearing it.”

Maybe he hadn’t chosen the best words to say, and maybe he shouldn’t be the judge of his own character in this situation, but fuck, he didn’t think he was being that much of an asshole. He could be, but he wasn’t.

“I’m trying to apologize here could you—”

“—No, because it’s just gonna be that same stupid excuse—”

Leon stopped listening then. You rambled on and on and perhaps it may have felt good for you to get things off your chest, and you probably did need it considering who your father was, it’s just that Leon couldn’t, for the life of him, get the image of your pretty lips wrapped around his cock out of his head. No matter how hard he tried.

Leon was a man of self-control. He prided himself on that, in fact. He was able to remain calm in tough situations, he kept his cool when someone was pissing him off. But you. You were a whole other story. A walking pile of anger that wouldn’t dissipate. Your attitude was sickening and the thought of being in a room with you for more than ten minutes was repugnant to him. Yet all he was thinking about right now was stuffing your mouth full. Keeping you from talking for two fucking seconds.

He couldn’t stand it anymore. The echoey sound of your voice raging on as he zoned out with the vulgar image in his mind, the vulgar image being just that; an image.

He wanted it to be a reality.

He needed it to be.

Within seconds Leon was in front of you, roughly grabbing your waist with one hand and a fistful of your hair in the other. His lips were on yours before you could even comprehend what was going on. The taste of alcohol on his tongue and the overwhelming feeling of him took over your mind. Like a dark storm that hovered over the bright fields of good decisions and common sense. It rained down faster than it ever had, and now, all you could think about was Leon.

All the anger, all the detest, it lingered and mixed with need. For Leon, it was the same. The feeling of your chest pressed against his upper abdomen drove him insane. He could feel your pert nipples through both your shirts. He wanted to ravish you right then and there.

His hand on your waist travelled lower to your ass, groping the flesh harshly.

“‘M so—fucking—tired—of—your—attitude,” his sentence was broken into single words because neither of you could keep your mouths apart for long.

Until he finally managed to part from you. Your mouth, at least. Because your neck was the next place to get attacked. He placed wet, open-mouthed kisses from your pulse point to the base of your neck and trailed his tongue across your jawline.

“Leon,” he ignored you. “Leon—”

“—Shut up.” With two of his hands on your shoulders, you were on your knees within a blink of an eye, looking up at him as he looked down at you. The cold smirk he held on his face sent shivers up your spine. “Gonna fill your mouth, fuck the attitude outta you.”

Leon pushed down his sweatpants and boxers swiftly, revealing his hard cock. He grabbed it at the base, tapping his red, leaky tip on your lips, prompting you to open your mouth. Once you did, he didn’t give you time to take things slow as he shoved his cock into your mouth all at once. His tip hit the back of your throat and made you gag momentarily.

He groaned loudly at the feeling and made a makeshift ponytail with his hand at the back of your head, moving your head and using your mouth to his liking.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Y’got such a perfect little mouth. Shame you use more to talk than to do this.”

Tears brimmed your eyes, falling over and running down your flushed cheeks. The noises that were made were obscene but it only spurred you on. You could feel the wetness pooling in your panties pretty quickly.

You could tell Leon was getting close eventually. His breaths picked up and small little whimpers fell over his lips. His cock twitched in your mouth and you prepared yourself to take his cum down your throat, but he pulled you off of him before that could happen.

“‘M gonna fuck you now,” he groaned. “Gonna ruin this little cunt, yeah?”

He lifted you up off your knees before bending you over the counter. You heard a ripping noise and you knew he just ripped your damn underwear off. You wanted to be mad at him for that, but you found the words you were going to say leaving your head when he ran his cock up and down your slit, rubbing briefly against your clit.

Then he pushed in, fully sheathing himself within you in one thrust. You screamed out, the pain and the pleasure mixing together to create something so intoxicating. He was kind this time though, and stayed still so you could adjust to his thick size.

Before long, you were pushing back against him as a way to signal him to move, and of course he obliged. He began a brutal pace right away, completely forgetting to build up to it.

“You feel so good, baby. So fucking good f’me,” he breathed, delivering a hard smack to your ass and watching the red hand print form in its wake. You yelped at the action.

You loved how he was rougher with you. It’s what you wanted from Oliver in bed, and you’d even brought it up to him, but he was heavily against it. He was too soft with you, but Leon, the only thing soft about him were his words. It was a good balance that had you reeling.

Moan after moan and whine after whine left your mouth as you neared your release embarrassingly quickly. It was almost like Leon knew (he did), because his thrusts got deeper, rougher. The tip of cock reached your cervix and within seconds you were clamping down on him, walls spasming and body shaking uncontrollably.

“There y’go, sweets. Feels good, huh?” He was after his own release now, which wasn’t that far behind. His hips moved quickly and his hands were harshly gripping your hips, sure to leave bruises there by the morning. “I’m so close, baby. Gonna milk me dry, huh? Gonna have me cum in you? Fill you up? Yeah. Yeah, ‘m gonna fill you up nice and full. Send you t’bed with my cum still dripping outta you.”

“Please! P-Please, Leon. Need it s’bad.”

He stayed true to his word. His orgasm crashed through him like a wave, he spilled into you as he shoved himself as deep as he could go. He’s never came as much as he did then, or moaned the way he did. When he pulled out, hissing from the sensitivity, his spend mixed with yours pooled out of you almost immediately, dripping onto the floor.

With a soft chuckle and a shake of his head, he grabbed some paper towel and wet it to clean you up. When he ran it over your cunt, you jolted slightly.

“Just cleanin’ you up, hun. Don’t worry,” he grimaced at your ripped underwear on the floor, now puzzled as to what to put on you, before his mind went to his boxers that sat next to the ripped underwear.

He carried you back to your bed after he got you cleaned up, redressed, and gave you some water. You sleepily smiled up at him with your head on your pillow. “For an asshole, you really know how to make a woman feel good.”

He reciprocated your smile, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear and placing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Get some sleep, angel.”

☆ — © saintlulls, 2023 - don’t repost, translate, copy, or claim.