#but he can see the way they steady each other

[lexcys]

★ crimson tension rafe cameron x reader

summary: who knew rafe getting beat up and being vulnerable would end up giving him what he needed most - comfort

warnings: blood, wound description

a/n: ughh this took so long to write but it was worth it cuz I made myself giggle and kick my feet a few times. maybe this is a little cliche but I’m a sucker for these so sorry not sorry

loud music blasted over the speakers, laughter and unfamiliar voices rang around the manor, people spilled out from every room, clutching red plastic cups. the air was thick with the smell of beer and something sweet mixed with a faint undertone of sweat, the wide open doors leading to the cameron garden offered little relief, serving more as a passage to the outdoors than a true escape from the stifling atmosphere of tannyhill

the kitchen was a maze of half-empty bottles, red solo cups, and a few glasses perched on the edge of every counter. it was hard to believe none had shattered, considering the steady flow of people jostling past each other

right as you are about to take yet another shot you hear some barely audible shouting

curiosity overtaking your body faster than your mind and your legs start moving on their own accord, shot getting lost on the counter. making your way through the crowd but merely getting to the hallway as a mass of people block off the way and view to the living room, you hear a loud voice that undoubtedly belongs to rafe

whispers and 'oohs' pass through the crowd, before you notice rafe pushing past people with practiced ease, not bothering to acknowledge anyone as he moves forward. his focus unwavering, his movements deliberate as he makes his way toward you, a destination in mind

you catch a glimpse of the huge gash right above his eybrow - your eyes widen and you move towards him

after seeing his look and eyes you realize why he doesn’t react to you calling out his name - whatever substance he had taken prior was showing on his face, the haze clouding his expression, a disheveled look, glassy eyes with dilated pupils, fluoride stare as well as furrowed brows were noticeable as he brushes right past you

you glance around the room and the absence of attention on rafe doesn’t go unnoticed. you realise whoever had been on the other end of his rage must look worse - a chill runs down your spine imagining the ugly sight

being sarahs friends, tannyhill was not a foreign place for you so you knew where he was headed as he moved up the stairs

you hesitate but decide to follow him, once you’ve reached his room you rethink whether or not to knock, uncertainty creeping in but the worry gnaws at you too strongly - after calling out to him and getting no answer you enter the dimly lit room

the music dampens as you close his door. you pay no attention to his room, a already familiar space, your eyes immediately noticing him right ahead

the weight of the silence between you both grows heavier as you step closer, torn between reaching out and giving him space

he’s standing on his balcony, slumped onto the railing all though theres so much tension present in his shoulders that you can see it from a few meters away. his eyes are fixed on the ocean, the smoke lingering in the air making it evident that there was a cigarette resting between his fingers

he merely spares you a glance when you say his name again, turning around without muttering a single word

carefully you make your way toward him, situating yourself onto his right in complete silence, taking in the scene before you - the music has gotten louder and you look down at the people dancing below you, they payed absolutely no mind to rafe above them and in comparison to the loud laughs and voices the ocean before you was calm - the steady motion of the water, the endless horizon, seeming to soothe him

analysing his face you conclude that whatever fight had just occured - it was a heavy one - rafe had a busted lip, bruised knuckles, a bruise was already forming on his nose and the eybrow gash that was bleeding rather harshly. your face twists imagining how much his head must be throbbing

right now was not the time - but you also couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he has never looked hotter

the moonlight hit his face just right, highlighting his tired eyes, making the blood adorning his face less unsettling, cigarette held between blood covered fingers, his knuckles bruised and bleeding, yet there’s something almost striking about the way his hands look, the way they’re still so perfectly shaped, even in their damaged state - his pain and his beauty so closely intertwined. even in this state, even with blood streaked across his face, there’s something undeniably captivating about him.

quickly pushing those thoughts aside you catch rafe looking at you for a second with a seemingly emotionless look, tension still present in his eybrows

you know he probably wanted to be left alone, his body language said it all. the desire to comfort him tugs at you, wanting to step forward and reach out, to brush your fingers along his jaw, to caress the sharpness of his stern yet tender face

''why are you here?'', he bites in a monotone tone, ripping you out of your thoughts

you clear your throat, ''I just wanted to see if you’re alright... maybe help you,” you say, the words feel awkward, out of place, like you’re intruding

his eyes snap to you, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something sharp, almost like a reflex. then, it morphs into a cold, bitter look of disgust. “I don’t need any help,” he mutters

''rafe you’re bleeding - badly'', you utter throwing a glance toward the gash which, even in bad lightning, was clearly deeper than he realized as it had oozed so much blood that it had almost covered the right side of his face. ''I just-'' you falter before sighing, ''I didn’t know what happened and I was concerned''

you weren’t entirely sure why you were confessing your concern - it wasn’t exactly something that came naturally with rafe cameron. the alcohol in your system seemed to loosen the edge

seemingly bother by you answer, not even sparing you a look he replies, ''I don’t need your pity, run back to sarah or something'' he motions you away with his hand

you bite your lip, clearly fighting a mental battle whether or not to leave him alone. you notice his hands shaking, not sure whether it was from anger pain or something else

slightly tipsy you gather the courage to ask once again, pushing his annoyance aside because you so desperately want to help him, feeling your heart hurt seeing him like this

you try one last time, ''your hands are shaking, you sure you can patch yourslef up? I really just wanna help you rafe. but if you really want me to go say it - then Ill leave'', finishing you realize how pathetic you sounded, internally cringing but hoping it would convince him and make him see that you really did care about him

silence

rafe looks at you quickly noticing your concerned face filled with worry, even though his look was quick you notice that it changed, something changed, but before you can even get close to figuring out what he turns back around and takes a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling up in the cool air, his gaze fixed straight ahead, not meeting yours again

he exhales slowly, the smoke drifting up in a haze, but the tension in the air thickens instead of easing

defeated, you turn away, the weight of the silence too much to bear. you don’t say anything, no last attempt to reach him

suddenly you hear a quiet ''wait'' from rafe, so faint it wouldn’t have been audible if you had taken two more steps

you turn your head around quickly, trying to figure out if he really just said that but when you catch him putting out his cigarette into the ashtray you realise that he did

he turns around as you take a few steps towards him. his face barely visible from his dark room - only illuminated lightly by the moonlight and the soft glow from the party below - holds a stern and tense look, his jaw clenched with tension, vulnerability present in his eyes

rafe still hasn’t said another word but you’re easily able to read his expression and figure out what he wants you to do

relief washing over you you exhale a big breath, ''okay where’s the med kit?''

''bathroom'', is the only thing he says, voice low, eyes still focused on you - unwavering

you turn around and step into the bathroom, the small space a contrast to the size of his bedroom. quickly you begin searching the cabinets, your mind already running through the steps you’d need to take. already thinking about where would be the best place to clean and dress his wound, somewhere where he can sit down, somewhere you can work without too much trouble - before finding the med kit under his sink

a subtle warmth creeps up your neck, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. you turn around noticing him standing in the doorway, leaning against the door - watching you with those empty yet pleading eyes before his gaze flickers over to the mirror - he’s lost in his reflection for a moment, studying himself

rafe stands there for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. then, with a quiet click, he closes the door behind him, fully stepping into the bathroom. the music muffles and the air between you tightens. you swallow, heart racing - you try to focus on the medkit in your hands. he moves past you slowly, sitting down on the toilet lid

right now, in the bright light of the bathroom, you’re finally able to see the full extent of his wounds as he holds his head up, avoiding your gaze. examining his wounds you settle on tending to his eyebrow first

you can tell that he’s not ready to talk about the fight or whatever happened. the air is heavy and something in his silence tells you not to push. so, you don’t, you stay quiet. setting the med kit down on the counter searching for the right tools, you feel suffocated by the silence, so awfully aware of every, rigid and nervous, breath you took

ready you turn back to rafe whose gaze is set onto the ground, still lost in thought - you try to clear your throat to catch his attention, to notify him that you’re ready and willing to tend to his wounds

he looks at you with a look, a look so vulnerable and hurt that it pulled at your heart. whatever he was just thinking must’ve hit him hard - the weight of it is there, written across his face, and you feel it in your chest. rafe’s eyes still carry that glassy, fluorid stare, as if he's still not fully aware of everything around him, making you wonder if he even realizes how much he’s letting slip

you figure that however you were to approach this - it would be awkward either way

you looked at him with a nervous look, alcohol-soaked cotton pad in hand - standing right in front of him, you hesitated as your eyes met his. he lifts his head a little farther up for you to get better access to his wounds. rafe is leaning forward, legs spread with his forearms resting on his knees, crossing his hands slightly in front of him infront - still at an awkward length until he fully uncrosses his hands, resting them on his knees. you waited, unsure if you’re allowed to enter the space, looking for a look of approval in his distant eyes. he nods - the faintest movement of his head, barely visible

his eyes carry a look that’s hard to read, an expression that makes you wonder if there’s a storm raging inside his mind or if he’s drifting into an unsettling emptiness

settling in between his knees - still trying to keep some sort of distance, unsure what was or wasn’t crossing the line, you bring the cotton pad up to his face. you gently start cleaning off the, mostly already, dried blood before moving on to his gash. the second it hits his skin again his eyes - which have been avoiding yours from the second he nodded - close, his jaw clenching pain evident although he tried not to show it, putting up some sort of barrier to, even in this vulnerable state, seem unbothered - strong

while cleaning you notice his hands, resting on his knees, and fingers lightly grazing against the fabric of your shorts, the lightest of touches—almost like a subconscious gesture. it’s a small movement, barely noticeable, but the tension it creates fills the space between you

you focus on your task, but it’s harder now, your hand faltering slightly with each light graze of his fingers

the delicate movement of his fingers almost like a distraction from the physical discomfort he’s trying to hide so well. it makes you wonder if he’s trying to ground himself, or if he’s just too lost in the moment to notice what he’s doing

after cleaning everything off in the best way you could you apply some zip stitches to at least momentarily close the wound. his breath hitches as you press the last stitch into place, but he doesn’t move or make a sound, the mask of stoic restraint still firmly in place

you couldn’t figure out if rafe was actually aware that he was pulling you closer to himself

by the time you were ready to clean his lip the distance between you was so minimal that you could barely clean it properly. the closeness making every slight movement feel amplified now, the soft brush of his breath, the faint tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flicker between avoiding yours and briefly meeting your gaze

you gently press the cotton to his lip, your fingers grazing his skin in the process. the way his gaze flicks up to meet yours for a split second makes your heart skip, throwing off your rhythm.

you hesitate for a moment, your heart racing in the silence between you. the closeness is overwhelming, and you know you need to steady yourself, to find a way to regain control. your fingers tremble slightly as you lift your hand, almost instinctively, and you gently place it on the side of his face. the warmth of his skin is a shock, he lets out a soft exhale which you wouldn’t have noticed if you werent holding his face with your hand - but he doesn’t pull away.

you angle his face just enough to get a better view, but the movement feels more like an anchor for yourself, the subtle pressure of your hand on his skin keeps you tethered, even as the air between you thickens with something unsaid

you press the pad to his lip slowly, careful and deliberate, but your fingers linger on his skin longer than necessary, your thumb lightly brushing the edge of his jaw. his breath brushes against you, warm and shallow

it’s hard to focus with the way his gaze lingers on you, the way your hand feels on his face

his lips part quickly as you tend his wound - the area lightly swollen, thankfully not comparable to his eyebrow gash

you finish tending to his face, placing a last small plaster, hurting at the loss of contact. you take a look back and admire your work and him. the quiet stillness between you both feels oddly heavy, but the comfort of knowing he’s patched up - protected for now - settles in

you dread saying the words a loud, not wanting to lose this moment, not wanting to end it - not sure what it even was

''done''

the hands behind you tighten their grip, slowly pulling you even closer, eliminating the space between you. your body freezes for a second - caught off guard. his head reasts on your upper body, sending a wave of warmth through you, and for a moment, you're aware of every breath, every beat of your heart

his breath is steady, slow, but there’s an unmistakable force in the way he holds you, a quiet urgency that makes your mind go blank

his grip, though firm, isn't forceful - more like an unspoken invitation, urging you, pleading you, to stay within the space he's created. he held on with such a purpose - it made it seem like you would evaporate the second he let go

you place one hand gently in his hair, testing the waters, seeing if he'd be comfortable with you running your fingers through it. the other one rests on his back

rafe flinches when you tryto pull him closer, putting pressure on his back

you let the moment linger for a few seconds more before speaking up, breaking the comforting silence which rested between you, ''rafe let me see your back''

he pulls back and looks at you for a second, his look completely unreadable. this time he complied. he stands up with a slow, deliberate motion and turns around. he lifts his shirt as far up as he could, pain clearly holding him back. gently taking hold of the shirt from his hand, you ease the fabric upward, careful to avoid causing him any more pain as you lift it higher

his back is painted with all sorts of colours - some bruises worse than others. you flinch at the sight, although you’re a little relieved to see no cuts

seeing there is nothing you can do you let his shirt fall back down, very carefully smoothing it on his back - hoping to provide some comfort with the soft touch

as you move next to him to rest a hand on his bicep, you ask him with a hushed voice, ''can I get you a new shirt'', meeting his gaze, ''yours is full of blood''

fully aware that the line that was not to be crossed has now become blurred

rafe nodded

you leave his side, moving to his drawer - your fingers fumble slightly as you sift through the clothes, searching for a shirt. you pick out a loose one, one that would not press against his back too much or that would be a struggle to put on

he now sat on his bed, patiently waiting for you, watching you

you turn back to him, seeing his eyes, his expression. a storm of thoughts no longer visible, only exhaustion

''is this one okay?'' you questioned. he nodded before clearing his throat and lowering his gaze, ''can you help me put it on'', clearly exhausted

you pull hisshirt up slowly, carefully and for a moment you’re stunned, staring in silence. the sight that greets you is just as shocking as it is heartbreaking - his chest is as bruised as his back

rafe is clearly avoiding your eyes, looking to his left with a tense jaw

without saying another word you pull the other shirt over his head, standing before him, ''are you gonna go back down?''

he replies with a shake of his head, ''no''

you quietly stars at him for a few seconds more, debating how to continue then letting your legs carry you towards the bathroom to clean up. but just as you turn to leave, you feel his hand snap out, gripping your wrist with a force that sent a jolt through your body. the touch was immediate, urgent, as though he couldn’t let you go. but then, as quickly as it had come, his grip softened, the tension draining away as he loosened his hold

your eyes flicker back to him

“stay”

[alkaline-wtr]

Dirty Talk 141 Head-cannon

Description: How I imagine the boys would feel about dirty talk. Warnings/Genres: 141 x fem!reader, smut, blowjob, fingering, pwp, head-cannon WC:742

** A bit rough but I just wanted to get this up. Enjoy.

Soap: Johnny enjoys dirty talk so much, in fact, he does most of the talking. While you lie on your back pinned into the mattress by his body weight, he spews a string of praises through heavy pants and grunts. Needily bucking his hips into you.

"You like that, huh, feeling me inside you? You feel so good Darlin'. So wet for me, yeah?"

Each sentence comes out as breathy whines. The words nearly caught in his throat as he struggled to keep a steady rhythm. You feel Johnny's length deep with each sloppy thrust.

"Fuck,"

He whimpers,

"I'm getting close darlin’ you just drive me crazy every time."

You could hardly get a word in if you wanted, but you don't mind much.

Gaz: For Kyle, dirty talk is useless and unproductive. He doesn’t care to hear your filthy mewls when your mouth is better suited for other activities.

His 'Shut up and take it' attitude leads him to find any way he can think to keep your tongue occupied, whether it's giving you a couple of slender fingers to suck on or guiding you to your knees the moment you start to speak.

Your eyes ogle the spot of his muscular chest where your palm is splayed out.

“Don’t speak baby, just use that pretty little mouth of yours to show me how you feel huh?”

No more needed to be said, you're eagerly taking his cock into your mouth, coating it in your saliva so your hand glides along his shaft with ease.

You can’t help but gaze up at Kyle through your glassy eyes to watch as he bites back moans. A hand holding a fist full of your hair to make sure the tip of his cock reaches the back of your throat.

"See Darlin'?"

He grumbled. Words weren’t necessary when the gargled moans that vibrated around him were validating enough.

Simon: It's not that he doesn't like dirty talk, but rather, he uses it as a form of measurement for his performance.

After all, if you're able to form anything more than strangled moans and incoherent babbling, slipping curses out under your breath about how good it feels to have his cock buried deep inside your sopping cunt, or how hungrily he laps at your overstimulated clit, then he just isn't doing well enough.

His only goal is to have you shaking with beads of sweat glistening over your soft skin. Your mind is too clouded by ecstasy to remember your own name. Words were just that, a meter to indicate your level of pleasure in that given moment.

"Oh, Simon,"

you exhale.

"Feels good."

Your content hum was too stable for him. He picks up the pace, two of his knuckles pressing deeper into you, curling in time with his thumb that circles your clit.

The gasp you let out as you squirm against his palm is reassuring to him. It isn't much longer that you try and speak again, Driving Simon to add another finger, fucking into your bucking hips so hard that you can't help but close your eyes and grip the sheet. The only noise left in the room besides the wet squelching of your tight cunt, is the squeals of pleasure replacing your intended pleas.

Price: John is his own type of animal, his tip just barely nuzzled against your heat. You can squirm and whimper all you want,

"You'll have ta use your words, sweetheart."

He teases,

"Please, please. I just need to feel you already I can't take it anymore."

Your pussy aches and throbs with the need to release. It's been almost an hour of this. John edges you for as long as it takes, only continuing when he deems your begging and pleading to be satisfactory.

"Come on sweetheart you can do better than that."

The mischievous chuckle that follows frustrates you even more. For an older man, he seemed to have a little too much patience and stamina for this type of thing. And your guess was as good as anyone's on what he wanted to hear for you to finally cum.

Still, you continue to try, fighting through the overstimulation. You weren't sure if your jumbled words had met his standards or if maybe he just pitied you seeing the tears forming in your water line. But he leaves you writhing and screaming out his name as you ride out your most intense orgasm yet.

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Hawks x Y/N | Doggy Style

Just pictured Hawks fucking me doggy style and I straight up drooled...so here's a little head cannon about it. A18+ MDNI

When Hawks lines himself up behind you, your dripping wet with anticipation. He starts like he always does, gently spreading your legs and slipping his hands up and down your hips to appreciate your curves.

You shiver when you feel the head of his cock brush against your sensitive pussy. He grins and slides his dick back and forth against you slowly. His cockhead glides against your clit and you see stars at the contact.

"Please, Keigo." You groan out, face planted firmly in a pillow, your ass up in the air beneath his capable hands. "Can't wait any longer."

You hear him chuckle to himself from behind you, and then feel him gently pushing inside. That's the thing about Keigo - he's always so, so gentle when he fucks you.

It's funny...you're not even together. Not really. Just two friends who's careers prevent them from dating and settling down. Instead of trying your hands at the dating market, you fuck each other. It's easier this way. Less complicated. You each know what the other likes in bed, and there's no time to sleep around so you don't need to waste time with condoms.

He fucks into you slowly, like you're something precious. Strong, calloused hero hands grip the sides of your ass as he buries himself inside of you, inch by inch. When he bottoms out, he lets out a strangled gasp. "No matter how many times we do this, I never get used to the feel of you. So goddamn good." He practically growls, throwing his head back as he starts to move inside of you.

Each stroke is measured - he finds the perfect rhythm and tempo as he glides in and out of your soaked pussy. Your hazy brain's pleasure receptors sparkle at the way he bucks his hips to hit that special spot deep inside of you. You feel your orgasm building as he slides a hand down your hips, up your stomach and smooths rough fingertips across your nipples. You vaguely wonder at when this turned from a friends with benefits situation to love. When he fucks you like this - all sweet and thoughtful - you swear you're in love with him. This has got to be love, right?

He keeps his pace steady and scoots closer to you so he can kiss at the planes of your back. He presses soft, open mouthed kisses to all the skin within his reach. You back up into him, feeling his balls bounce against you as he keeps his rhythm steady.

"Yes, baby. Just like that. Take it. Take everything I've got." He practically moans, singing your praises as you help him fuck you. That's new - since when did he call you baby!?

"Keigo!" You cry out as he brings his fingertips down to play with your clit. He rubs slow, lazy circles around you, encouraging you to cum whenever your ready. "Keigo fuckkk. Cum inside me? Please. Please cum inside me oh fuck."

He doesn't need telling twice - he lets himself get comfortable inside of you, enjoying the warm squeeze and stretch of your tiny cunt as he fucks you.

You cum around his cock within minutes, crying out his name as he fucks you into oblivion. A creamy ring forms around his dick as you throw it back and fuck him senseless - riding out your orgasm as he rolls his hips steadily. The fluttering of your pussy around his dick sends him over the edge as well. Thick, warm ropes of cum fill you up quickly. Your pussy milks him, taking every bit of cum his cock is willing to give you.

When he's finally finished inside of you, he slowly pulls out. You know he likes to watch the creampie drip out of you slowly, so you hold your position to give him a good view. When he's had his fill of looking, he slips off the mattress and grabs a warm washcloth from the bathroom to indulge in some after care. He wipes gently between your legs, avoiding your gaze as does so.

"So..." He says, somewhat awkwardly as he wipes up his baby batter between your thighs. "I don't know that I can do this casually with you anymore. Y/N. I'm, like, down bad for you."

You snap your legs shut and look up at him, surprised.

"I want us to be more than fuck buddies. I think we should go on a date." He says earnestly, handing over the washcloth so you can continue the job on your own. "I mean...of course I want to continue fucking. Fucking you is literally my favorite thing. I just want it to mean something more."

"Keigo, you're babbling." You say. The face you're making is absolutely priceless - you definitely weren't expecting this conversation to happen tonight.

"Cumming makes me emotionally intelligent." He jokes, throwing you a cheeky fan service wink. "Think about it. The date, I mean."

"Alright. Let's start now. Wanna go grab some food?" You say, your stomach growling loudly in agreement. Hawks looks at you with hearts in his eyes and nods excitedly.

"A woman after my own heart." He slides off the bed to gather up your clothes and pass them your way. "It's a date."

[alicewrotethis]

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩. 𝟐﹒

ㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪˖𓏲﹒synopsis!! tsukishima  does something he know will come back to haunt him   ㅤ ˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚౨ cw!! timeskip k. tsukishima x chubby!fem!reader, nsfw nsfw nsfw   ﹒ ◠ note!!  playlist i listened to while making this !  angst will be in the next part muahahahahaah😼ALSO IT DOESNT LET ME RPELY TO COMMENTS WAA ౨   wc!! 3.5k <<< part one

It had been a few weeks since you said those words to Tsukishima, and it's like they're still fresh on his mind. Ever since then, you've been inseparable, well, as inseparable as you can be. You both grew fond of each other's company and grew well as friends, he even managed to break it off with Etsuko; not wanting her to interfere with your friendship any further. He even told some of the guys on his team about you, only after they wouldn't stop pestering him on who the pretty girl was bringing in his lunches in cute bento boxes. He appreciated what you did for him, and he did his best to show it in his own way, he hoped you could feel it as well.

But it all came to a steady stop a few days ago; nothing bad had happened, you just got busy managing your classes and job and you didn't really have enough time to stop by his practices much between running from the college to the bakery then back again. Tsukishima never said anything about it, he knew you were stressed and didn't wanna seem selfish, though, he desperately missed the times you'd spend together. It's not like you never spent any time with him, you'd still go over to his apartment and hed go to yours whenever but either way your face would be stuffed in a book and papers and never just on him.

It started affecting his days as well, not being able to see you- to really see you.

Today was no exception.

You were sitting on Tsukishima's living room floor, papers and books scattered all around you as well as highlighters and pencils, some music filled the background, your combined playlist you made him join on Spotify. It was a sight Tsukishima had grown accustomed to in these past days.

"You alright down there?" He asked, his tone rather gentle as he studied your form.

It took you a minute to reply, wanting to finish reading the paragraph before directing your attention to him, "Yeah, sorry," You let out a yawn as you stretched your back, your shirt lifting a little to reveal more of your skin, something that didn't go unnoticed by Tsukishima. He found himself noticing these small parts of you more often than usual.

"You should take it easy," He spoke softly, standing up and walking over to where you were seated, promptly leaning down to your eye level and neatly sorting your papers into a stack.

"Sorry for the mess, Tsuki, its just your place is so cozy," You watched as he sorted and piled your books and pencils, you watched how his long fingers engulfed the pencils with ease, and you started to wonder how they'd feel on your skin.

"It's practically the same as your place, since, you know, it's the same complex," He teased, placing your things in your bag as you snapped out of your thoughts.

What were you possibly thinking? How could you think that about your best friend? Maybe he was right, maybe you did need to take it easy, all this stress must've been getting to your head.

"Yeah, but in yours, I get to be near you," You hadn't meant anything by it when you said it, but Tsukishima still developed a slight blush on his cheeks. He hated how much of an effect your words had on him, and how easily you could have him flustered.

"Whatever," He spoke, standing up, "You gonna spend the night?" He wasn't sure why he asked, you've never spent the night at his place since you were right next to him, he just wanted to spend more time in your presence before you went back into your usual busy routine tomorrow.

"Of course, we can have a sleepover Tsuki!" You cheered up at him, still sitting on your knees. Despite how innocent the moment was, Tsukishima couldn't stop his mind from drifting.

"Dont say it like that, it sounds lame," He spoke, "Do you want the bed or the couch,"

You huffed, "Your bed is big enough for the both of us, right?" You stood up and walked towards his room, "I mean it is a sleepover, Tsuki,"

His face flushed once again at the thought of sharing the same bed as you, his bed was in fact big enough, but he wasn't sure he could control himself in such close proximity to you, he could barely stand it now.

Tsukishima wasn't oblivious, he knew what a crush was, and he knew what he was feeling resembled one. But he didn't want to ruin what you both shared, he didn't want to be selfish with you. It was a risk he wasn't willing to take.

"Dont call it a sleepover," He sighed, following you into the bedroom.

"Tsuki! I didn't even notice you had glow-in-the-dark stars! That's so cute," You exclaimed, staring up at the dimly lit green stars, you assumed they'd be brighter once the lights were shut off.

"Dont look at them it's embarrassing," He spoke while grabbing his plain black hoodie, and a towel and tossing them your way, "The showers in... well you already know,"

"Thank you," You said shyly as you entered the bathroom that was connected to the bedroom. It made you nervous knowing you'd be showering while Tsukishima was out there.

And Tsukishima was no better, he couldn't help but imagine your bare body, he thought about running his hands up and down your curves gently, showing you exactly how riled up you get him, hearing you say his name, god, the way it rolls off your tongue like a prayer. You drove him absolutely wild. He wasn't sure how he'd get through the night with you next to him.

The sound of the door opening snapped him out of his thoughts, he was sitting up on the bed, facing the bedroom TV on his dresser, watching whatever show was on your shared Netflix recent played, you begged him to join your plan so you could see what shows he liked watching since he wasn't really the talkative type. He liked that about you, he liked that you always wanted to know more about him.

His eyes scanned you up and down, and he could tell that you weren't wearing anything underneath his hoodie.

"Um, Tsuki?" Your voice called his attention, and he raised his brow at you.

"Do you have any spare, uh," You looked away out of nerves, "Panties.." You meekly said, earning a chuckle from Tsukishima.

"Why would I own panties?" He asked in a teasing tone, adoring the way you got shy so quickly. He wished his hoodie was just a bit shorter.

"Well, do you have anything?" Your face was a deep red as you furrowed your brows, not finding the situation as humorous as Tsukishima did.

"In that drawer, the top one," He pointed with his fingers while watching you walk to the dresser, turning your back to him to grab a pair of boxers. Tsukishima tried to keep his eyes from exploring places they shouldn't.

"Close your eyes," You spoke softly, now facing him.

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he complied and you swiftly pulled them up, they fit quite nicely against your curves, it covered you but left nothing to the imagination, not that you cared, you just wanted to feel less... bare.

He opened his eyes when he felt you crawl into bed next to him, taking your phone out of the hoodie pocket and opening TikTok. Tsukishima grabbed the remote and turned the TV down a bit, knowing you liked to blast your TikTok's on full volume, he never complained tho, he found your for you page funny.

He felt his phone buzz, it was a notification from you, you sent him a TikTok, "Why are you sending me stuff I'm right here," He said with a smile looking over at you wrapped in the blankets, your head barely peeking out of the sheets to see your phone screen.

"I dont know, quit judging me sassyshima," You mumbled from under the blanket, you promptly shoved the phone in his face as a TikTok played.

"When my boy bestfriend decides to not answer me like I'm one of his hoes," Tsukishima read the words out loud, earning a giggle from you.

"It's so relatable," You spoke, taking the phone away from his face.

"No it's not, youre probably the only girl in my contacts," He said, his eyes never leaving you.

His words made you sit up and face him, "Tsuki, is this an admission that you," You paused dramatically, "Have no game...?" Your arms held you up against the mattress as you leaned in for dramatic effect.

Tsukishima scoffed, "I have plenty of game, I have a pretty girl in my bed right now," He smirked at you, watching as the familiar blush formed on your cheeks.

You crossed your arms against your chest, puffing your chest up unknowingly, "That doesn't count," You mumbled, taking your place back next to him and yawning.

You shifted on your side, your back facing him in an attempt to hide your blushing face, unconsciously rubbing your ass against Tsukishimas leg.

He felt his dick throb at the touch, and he wasn't sure what he should do, he didn't wanna make it awkward but he also didn't want you to think he liked it- which he very much did; but he didn't want you to know that as it might scare you away. but god he knew he couldn't stand it much longer.

Tsukishima instinctively placed a hand on your hip, not even realizing what he had done before you stopped your movements.

"Sorry, I dont know why I did that," He spoke softly, removing his hand.

You were a flustered mess, your heart was beating out of your chest and you were sure he could've heard it from there, you didn't even know you were rubbing against him and you felt bad for it, the ghost of his hand on your hip left a burning sensation, making warm waves twist and turn in your stomach. Was it wrong to think he wanted you in the way you needed him?

"Tsuki?" You asked apprehensively, shifting so you were facing him.

"Fuck, dont say my name like that," He breathed out, already staring at you. His breaths were heavy, and from what the TV illuminated you could tell there was a deep red adorning his face, the sight of him like this had you clenching around nothing.

"Touch me again," You enticingly spoke. The air was thick with tension, and your body felt hot all over despite the cool air floating around Tsukishimas apartment, "Please, Tsuki," You begged fervently.

Tsukishima was fighting battles in his mind, he wanted so badly to take you right here, to show you how badly he's been missing your presence, but he knew that when the morning came you'd both regret it, the friendship would become awkward, he didn't want that, he didn't want to lose you due to not being able to control himself.

"We can't," He said reluctantly, looking everywhere but you.

"Why not?" You whined out, your whines only making his cock twitch in his sweatpants.

"Fuck it," And with those words he was on you, running his hands all over your soft body, moving his hoodie up, and feeling your bare skin.

You let out soft whimpers at his rough touch, he was feeling you like he'd never get to again, as if you'd disappear in an instant and you loved it.

"Can I take it off, baby?" He asked gently, still feeling you everywhere except where you needed him the most.

His question made you cower under his gaze, there was nowhere you could hide so you brought your hands up to cover your face.

"If you dont want to, it's okay, I'll still think you're beautiful," His voice was smooth and intoxicating, it made your mind go fuzzy and all you could muster was a small nod.

His hands came down to the hem of the hoodie and pulled it off you in one swift movement, and though he couldn't see much with only the TV lighting up the room, what he could see he found perfect.

Before his hands could continue exploring your curves you grabbed his arm, "You too," You shyly spoke, earning a smile from Tsukishima. He complied with your demand and swiftly threw his shirt to the ground. You admired his form and ran your fingers along his build, sending shivers down his spine at your touch. You were finally touching the man who consumed all your fantasies.

Your hips unconsciously bucked against his thigh, earning a small moan from you at the friction. "Touch me, Kei," Your tone was laced with sultry, you had a deep need for his touch, you wanted so badly to come undone on him, for him, to him.

He positioned himself so your legs were on either side of him, and his fingers ran down your soft stomach, and down into the borrowed boxers, eliciting a small gasp at the contact. He leaned his head into the crook of your neck and began kissing and licking as his fingers slid up and down your slick puffy lips, coating his digits in your wetness.

You felt him smirk on your skin, "All this for me?" He smugly asked, even in a moment like this he still had the biggest ego.

"Tell me how bad you want me," He demanded in your ear, kissing the soft skin.

"I need you so bad, Kei, so so so bad," You whined, hating how much he was teasing you.

You felt him sink a finger in, and you let out a hushed moan into his ear, causing him to sink another finger in. He felt your grip on his shoulders as he moved his fingers into you deeper, he loved how you felt around his fingers, the feeling had his dick throbbing in his sweatpants, but he wanted to take care of you first, he wanted to feel you cum all over his fingers.

Tsukishima knew he found your soft spot when you became a moaning mess, rocking your hips on his hand and digging your nails into his skin.

"Yeah? Like that baby?" He whispered in your ear, quickening his pace. His other hand ran up your body to massage your breast in his palm, you felt vulnerable under his gaze, knowing he's touched you everywhere, but the thought only made you clench more around his fingers.

"Yes! More, more, more," You repeated in chants, his thumb came to rub around your clit, making your hips jolt up at the sudden sensation.

"I've missed you so much since you've been busy," His pace was steady, and his slender fingers reached places in you you didn't even know existed, you couldn't barely for any sentences as the familiar feeling of your climax crept up on you.

"Missed seeing your pretty face all the time," He praised in your ear, licking his way from your neck to your lips in a hungry kiss, wanting to taste you.

"You gonna cum?" He asked, maintaining eye contact with you as his fingers gradually increased their pace on your clit, the feeling felt like nothing you've ever felt before, it was new, and you were already addicted, his scent was intoxicating and it filled your every pore, you could hear how wet you were.

You nodded profusely, unable to speak due to the loud moans and shrieks that were coming from your mouth, Tsukishima loved the sight of you, a mess all because of his fingers, he couldn't wait to see what you would be like on his dick.

"Look at me, baby, god, I can't get enough of you,"

"'M gonna cum! Tsuki, tsuki, tsuki, please," You were cut off by your own climax, your walls clenched tightly around Tsukishimas fingers as your back arched up into his body, twitching and jolting while he fingered you through your high.

Your clit soon became too sensitive so you wrapped your hand around his wrist in an attempt to halter his movements.

"Tsuki, too much," You whined out, body twitching vigorously.

"Sorry, youre just so pretty," He took his fingers out of you, your walls instantly missing them. You took a minute to regain your composure while Tsukishima slid his sweatpants down and started pumping his dick in his hand that was coated in your cum, the feeling eliciting a low moan. He could've come just by the sight of you.

"Are you ready?" He asked, rubbing his tip against your puffy lips, guiding it to rub against your clit.

You nodded up at him through tired eyes.

"I wanna hear you, baby," He spoke, never losing eye contact with you.

"Yeah, I need you Tsuki," Your voice was soft, exhaustion setting in from your high before.

"That's my girl,"

He guided his tip to your entrance and slowly let it sink into your slick folds, a gasp erupting from your mouth while Tsuki bit hard on his lip, trying to quiet his own groans. It wasn't enough for you though, you needed more of him, and you wanted to take every inch of him.

"More, Tsuki, please," You begged.

His arms were planted on either side of you, holding him up above you, "I don't want to hurt you," And it was true, but a part of him wanted to thrust so deep into you until you took all of him. But this was your first time together, he wanted to take it slow and remember every little sound you could possibly make.

Tsukishima slowly pushed deeper into you and with every inch came a new sound, your fingers were digging into his forearms, and your legs were wrapped around his waist, trying to guide him further into you. The pain felt so, so good to you.

When he finally bottomed out, you felt it, that special spot you had become addicted to him hitting, it felt even better now that you felt fuller.

"Right there, more, please, oh my god," Your back arched upwards and your hips bucked as you started fucking yourself on his dick, you felt him twitch inside of you at the sight.

"Fuck, baby, youre gonna make me cum doing that," He lightly laughed at how desperately you grinded on his dick, his arms moved to your hips, holding them in place and stilling their movement.

"You want more? Huh?" He teased.

"Yes! Stop being mean, Tsuki," You whined, face turning into a frown at the lack of friction.

"Alright, baby, I'll be nice," He smirked before pulling out and thrusting roughly back into you, your eyes rolled back and a shout of pleasure erupted from your throat, your body would've twitched had his grip on your hips not been so tight. He repeated his motion again, only this time he kept doing it at a steady pace. The pleasure sent waves up your spine, you couldn't even think straight, the only thing on your mind was how good Tsukishima was fucking you.

"Been wanting to do this since you made me that cake," He breathed out between moans and thrusts, "You have no idea what you do to me,"

Your hand reached down to your clit but was swatted away and replaced by Tsukishimas fingers, "Such a needy girl, yeah?" It wasn't even processing in your mind what he was saying, all you knew was to agree and take it.

With every thrust, your moans grew louder, every time he hit your soft spot harder and harder, the sounds of skin on the skin filled the room along with your nonsense blabbers about how good he was fucking you.

"Fuck, baby, I'm close," He groaned out, his pace grew sloppier with his thrusts, and his fingers on your clit got faster, "Can I cum inside you?" He asked, leaning down to breathe in your scent.

"Yes, please, please," Your sentence rambled off into noncoherent moans as the familiar knot in your stomach tightened. Tsukishima whispered all sorts of praises in your ear, but one stood out to you.

"Your body is perfect for me, baby," His sentence was enough to drive you over the edge, your walls clamped down tightly around his dick as you let out a shriek of pleasure, chanting his name over and over, it brought Tsukishima to his own climax, and with one deep thrust you felt his cum fill you in warm sputters, his hips bucked through his climax while his head rested on your shoulder, small pants coming from him as he caught his breath.

You both had stayed in that position for a while, seemingly going over what had just happened.

He stood up suddenly, leaving your walls to clench around nothing and you stared up at his glow in the dark stars as he cleaned you off silently

mlist. rules. tags.

© 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ─ please don't copy, translate, or post any of my work without my permission !

tags: @ilovemymomscooking

<< part one

[yizhou-time]

[ 20.08 ] mafia!hongjoong — hurt to comfort (?)

warning/s: mentions of kidnapping, is this a sickfic 😭

rina’s notes: LOOK WE ALL SAW IOMT I COULDNT NOT???? i havent proof read because i dont do that baddies trust their instinct :) also i love writing for hongjoong it's so easy because like omg i love him

“i’m a grown adult, san.” you frown at the man looming over you. he shakes his head and pulls his handkerchief out of his suit pocket. he considers handing it to you but watches you as you cough and moves to wipe your nose for you. “i’m an adult with a cold, you’re doing too much.”

he continues to wipe your nose, even hongjoong walks in. “an adult who was kept in a flooded basement. you wouldn’t be ill if you weren’t put in that situation. a situation that you were put in because of us. stop downplaing everything please.” he puts the handkerchief on your bedside cabinet and strokes your hair before walking out, giving you and your boyfriend some space.

the door softly clicks shut and hongjoong slowly teeters your way. he can’t bare to see you in a hospital bed and knowing it was his fault makes his heart hurt more. “i- you don’t deserve this.” he sits in the chair next to you and waits for you to finish your coughing fit before grabbing your hand and placing a soft kiss on the top. he keeps it close to him, resting his forehead on it as he apologises. “i’m so, very, sorry, my love.” he kisses your hand again and continues to whisper apologies.

you take your hand out of his grasp and place it on his cheek. “i’m too ill to be angry and in too much pain to be upset.” he leans into your hand and turns his head to kiss your palm. “finding out about your little business through men who took me off the street wasn’t great but, hey, what can we do.” you laugh quietly, trying to find some comfort in joking however hongjoong being here was much more comforting.

“i promise i was going to tell you, i needed to so you could have someone with you but i didn’t and now-.” he reaches up and pushes hair stuck to your head behind your ear. “in all honesty, i wasn’t sure if we would be able to continue this dance we were doing. my heart wanted to but my head worried about things like this and look what happened.”

you shake your head at him. “you can’t talk about leaving me now.” he watches as tears well up in your eyes. “too much is going on for you to talk about that now, not when we need each other the most. who’s going to cuddle you at night when you’re already too hot? who’s going to bring me jelly when i’m upset?” his stoic face cracks a small smile and you giggle quietly.

“who’s going to be doing all that, huh?” he leans further into your hand and you stroke his cheek, mirroring his smile. you pull away from him and move across the bed to make more room, hongjoong gets the message almost immediately and stands up to join you. he pushes the duvet out of the way and lays down next to you.

he covers himself with the duvet and opens his arms for you to place your head on his chest, you do just that and wrap an arm around him. hongjoong hugs you and kisses the top of your head with a small frown. “let’s hope next time you’re ill it’s because you want to kiss in the rain again.”

his steady heartbeat is enough to lull you into a deep sleep quickly, after all you’ve been very busy these past few days and ending it in your boyfriend’s arms was all you could ask for now. he listens to your somewhat soft breaths and it’s music to his ears. you probably will wake up with a sore throat tomorrow and more sick than you were today but he’d rather you were sick with him than alone in your house or stuck in that basement. once he’s sure you’re down for good he closes his eyes, regardless of how uncomfortable he is all he’s needed the three nights without you is to have you back in his arms.

yeosang, yunho and seonghwa stand outside the small room, watching through the glass window on the door. small smiles fall on their faces as they watch their fierce leader fall into a state of tranquil. it was the calmest they’d ever seen him. they hadn’t seen your more intimate moments, san had been the only one to properly get to know you while the rest had only met you when hongjoong dropped you home or he was being dropped off to meet you. seeing him cuddled up was odd but it was what he deserved.

“his suit’s going to be creased.” yeosang shakes his head, still smiling.

“yeah, but he’ll buy a new one.” yunho looks at his friend then the couple.

seonghwa observes the scene in front of him. everything was right now, they were altogether. “come on, let’s get cleaned up and we can sort through everything tomorrow. i’m sure hongjoong wants to be there for it.”

[talesofesther]

sweet serenity

Lucanis Dellamorte x Rook

Summary: After it all, Lucanis finds his serenity.

A/N: I wasn't planning on writing something for Lucanis so soon, but this sweet little thought came to my mind, and I couldn't let it slide. No spoilers ahead. I hope you enjoy it. Do let me know if you want to see more of him here! Requests are open, as usual.

Masterlist

An air of serenity engulfs Rook's meditation chamber, all quiet and calm. It's late into the night, or at least, what would be the equivalent of it in the fade. The large aquarium that covers an entire wall created ripples of liquid light on the floor and over Rook's skin. She watches for a moment as the fish swim lazily in the water, wondering still, in the back of her mind, how exactly they came to be in the fade.

Her attention wavers quickly, however, when her lips brush against raven hair. A smile comes to Rook's lips, one of her hands gingerly tracing shapes over his naked back. Her fingertips feel over a few bumps, some small, others not so much. Each scar on his skin had already felt the touch of her lips, too.

Lucanis is lying with her, or rather, on her. His head nests snuggly on the curve of her neck, facing away from the aquarium. One of his arms is over her stomach, and a steady and warm grip keeps her as close as humanly possible to him. He'd refused to leave her side, ever since he nearly lost her. Once is enough—the Crow had told her, his eyes glinting with pools of unshed worry, hurt, and longing.

Rook doesn't mind, much on the contrary. It feels almost healing to be so tangled with Lucanis, not knowing where he ends and she begins. She nuzzles onto the crown of his head, laying a chaste kiss there. It makes him shiver, she feels it in the goosebumps that rise on his skin.

He'd reacted the same way on their first night together, too; She had taken his cheeks between both her hands, only so she could touch his forehead with hers, noses bumping together while her fingers buried into his hair with the care of someone holding their world in their hands. And from her touch, she felt something wet drop onto her cheeks, once and then twice. His hands trembled where he held onto her waist. She had opened her eyes to find tear tracks down Lucanis' face. It had worried her, but in the same breath, he clutched at her hand like a lifeline and placed it more firmly onto his skin. On that night, she leaned forward again, her lips then tracing a path from below his eye, down to his cheeks, and until she found his lips again. There had been a distant salty taste to it as she kissed his tears away.

His goosebumps under her fingertips tonight bring the memory to the forefront of her mind, and she smiles, all sweet and adoring.

Everything is all too new for him, she knows. He even tried to deny his own feelings in the beginning. Rook still remembers the words Lucanis had told her not that long ago. You deserve better than to deal with my mess. Many times, he tried to give her an out, to keep her away; in his mind, it was safer that way. She deserved better, and Lucanis feared the possibility of him, or Spite, ever hurting her.

She'd convinced him otherwise. Showed him otherwise. She always did.

And now, Lucanis can happily drown in her embrace. He fears though, that it's without it that he might suffocate.

The quietness lingers, and Lucanis feels faint with the way she loved on him. Her touch is all too gentle and tender, he can't remember a time before her that he'd ever felt something like it. Perhaps never. He buries his nose further against her skin, a shuddering breath passing through his lips. There is a burning in the back of his eyes, but this time it doesn't come from Spite, for the demon has been blissfully quiet for a while now.

Lucanis felt her kiss, her fingers brushing over his scars—as delicate as rose petals on his skin. And he could crumble. He would get on his knees and promise her the world over and over if it meant she'd keep touching him with the gentleness of her hands.

"You're quiet tonight," Rook's soft voice says. It's a mere observation, as she selfishly missed the sound of his voice.

Lucanis hums, all sleepy, as his thumb traces the skin of her hip. "For too long," he holds a pause, they have the time all for themselves anyway, "I've wished for this… peace." The crow can feel her hand wandering, his eyes remain closed but her presence is intoxicating and he can't help but be aware of it. She's fidgeting with his hair, he feels the gentle tugs on the long strands.

"Spite?" Rook inquires, a little distracted.

"Is silent," he sighs. "With you, he's always calm." Lucanis' accent is heavy on his words and Rook smiles again. "I think… you are stuck with me now." There's the slightest bit of hesitation as he says it, still. Lucanis holds onto his breath, a little more awake now.

"Good. I was hoping to be." Warmth and affection drips from Rook's words, and the crow eases the air in his lungs.

Silence engulfs them again, but Lucanis is mindful of her movements. He senses her touch on multiple strands of his hair, working one over the other in a neat, small braid. He assumes as much, at least. It's more than welcome, he nearly purrs at her ministrations. Lucanis' hand lays flat against her stomach, drawing a pattern over her ribs, down to her hip, and back again.

Rook smooths one hand over his hair, fingers burying between soft dark locks, careful of the little braid now resting beside his ear. She picks out three strands and begins anew.

"What are you doing there, mi amor?"

Rook's cheeks become warm, a sheepish tilt to her lips as she bites back a smile. "Hmm, nothing."

She feels the shape of Lucanis' own smile against her skin, though, before he gives a kiss to the skin of her collarbone.

"I am not taking them off, you know," he mumbles, referring to the little artwork she's been doing to his hair.

She buries her nose against him to muffle a chuckle, and Lucanis can't take it anymore. He pushes himself up on his elbows, looking down at her with something that could only be described as adoration. All blown pupils and flushed cheeks.

He kisses her, over and over. He feels privileged.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Lucanis' taglist is open, let me know if you'd like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

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[conretewings]

A Good Name 🌟

-Set some months after the trio's conversation that night at the bar, the guys get a visit from their friend..and new companion. My heart is broken and I need some fluffy healing okay I really wanted to write a thing with Vander meeting baby Vi sue me.

A light rapping at the door makes Vander look up and Silco glance over his shoulder. They weren't open, and unexpected knocks usually came with some sort of headache or trouble.

They catch each other's gaze in a silent question of if they should answer, and whom if so. Silco's pen hovers above the ledger in front of him, brow raised a measure, his glass-green eyes sharp and steady. They dart towards the sound before meeting Vander's again, his head tilting slightly. Vander nods and reflexively rolls his shoulders, stepping around the table he was cleaning and takes a couple steps forward when there's a second knock-only this time it comes in a very distinctive, two-three-two pattern and both men are instantly fully alert.

Vander makes it to the door in a few hurried strides, undoing the locks and throwing it open to have two people dart inside. Closing it again he whirls and steps toward them, Silco also approaching now.

"Felicia, Connol!" he huffs, irate and concerned all at once, "We haven't heard from you in over a week! We were starting to think-"

She whips a hand forward and presses a finger to his lips, "Shhhhh...she's dozing-oh, not anymore."

It's then a small, thin cry is heard, the sound suddenly the only one in the room, and certainly not normally heard.

Vander and Silco freeze for a moment before the larger man barely finds his voice, "Is...did you..?"

Felicia rolls her eyes with a smirk, "Sorry guys. Been a little preoccupied."

Pulling aside the loose cloak she wore, she turns to reveal a wide piece of fabric wound around herself, and securely bound in the middle, cradled against her chest, was a tiny, wiggly bundle. Connol smiles broadly, weaving an arm around her shoulders, "Mates, meet our daughter."

As if knowing she was being talked about, the infant's wriggling increases and she turns her head, topped with a fluff of pinkish-red hair and gapes at the adults with brilliant, sky-blue eyes.

There's a beat of silence, save for the newborn's whimpers and soft cries, as if the reverence and significance for this moment was an unspoken agreement. Felicia tenderly brushes her fingers across her cheek and the puff of hair, a soft, peaceful smile on her face.

It's Silco who breaks the quiet with a simple, understated, "Ah...I see." still at a loss how to properly react to the situation.

"Lookit her...so small..." Vander breathes, moving closer, a lopsided grin slowly growing, "Hello there little one...lemme be the first to welcome you here though eh, it'll be a bit before you're a customer yeah?"

Connol rolls his eyes with a snort, yet Silco's face hardens just the slightest degree, "Not that I'm questioning your judgement, however is it not incredibly risky to whisk a newborn all the way here?"

"We know the best routes, and besides, this is about the safest place she could possibly be." answers Felicia.

Connol nods, "Ain't no better spot than the one that means so much to us all. It's practically our home, and we felt there'd be no better for ya to meet her."

Silco clears his throat with an understanding nod in return, a smile playing at his lips as he turns and steps back toward the bar, "Well then. I do believe congratulations are in order. How old is she?"

"Five days now," Felicia answers as she and Connol go to sit at a nearby table, readjusting the sling so she can hold her on her shoulder, "And already giving me sass!"

Vander laughs, a bright, warm laugh that bounces off the walls before he sits with them, "I don't know what you expected, bein' the result of you two!"

"Oy man what's that supposed to mean?" says Connol with feigned indignation and a smirk.

Silco joins the group then, carrying a tray with several glasses-and one deep blue tumbler. He passes a glass to each of the men, then with a little flourish and gallant bow, sets the cup in front of Felicia, who laughs and does a slight bow in return.

"A toast then. Congratulations to the new parents, to your new addition, and many hopes for the future..." says Silco proudly, raising his glass, and the others follow suit.

"Oh! Right!" Vander snaps his fingers, "So, what's her name then?"

Felicia catches his eye, a glimmer both sly and yet softened with pride in her own, "Violet, of course."

Vander freezes, mouth half open in disbelief, feeling his heart leap, having to set his glass down before he dropped it, "...What?"

"You heard me." she grins, Connol adding, "We talked about it, considered others, but we kept coming back around and decided...Violet is a good name."

Swallowing thickly, Vander takes a moment before responding, "I...don't know what to say..."

Silco shakes his head with a smile, patting the larger man's shoulder, "I think he means he's honored."

"Of course I am, just also...wow. I didn't think..." Vander laughs, much more softly, running a hand through his hair, "Violet. Yeah."

Felicia turns so the newborn is facing them, "Say hello to your uncles Vander and Silco, Violet! They look like dorks, and they can be, but I'll tell you something...there's no one who cares about us down here as much, who'll fight harder for us, who will love you more, besides me and your pa, then these two."

The baby stares at them, and Vander is surprised to feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes, "Hello, Violet...what your mum said is true. No matter what happens, we've got ya."

Noticing, Silco breaks into a mocking grin, "Oh dear dear what's this? Is the great Hound of the Underground actually crying?"

"Shut it. It's dusty in here." grumbles Vander, yet unable to hide his own grin. All laugh, then the conversation carries on...

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

The Race Is On.

word count - 800.

Surely you were seeing things.

There was absolutely no way that your husband was standing in front of you.

“Surprise?”

You didn’t even have time to register what was going on before you remembered that you had to pick someone.

And of course, there was only one person you were going to be picking.

“Oh goodness,” you gasped. “— im very sorry everyone, but there’s only one person I can really pick.”

You grabbed ahold of Harry’s hand and the two of you began to run to the other challenge area.

When the two of you were out of sight, GK turned to look at Melvin.

“Can’t believe we’ve got Harry styles as a camp mate.”

“Let’s go!” You cheered as you jumped over a log.

When you got to the next area, you saw Tulisa and Alan speeding off in a black jeep.

“Whose driving?” You asked your husband as you raced over to the vehicle.

He ran over to the drivers side and smirked at you. “— me, definitely me, I’ve seen your driving sunshine.”

You let out a soft gasp.

You weren’t that bad of a driver.

Right?

You ran round to the other side of the car, jumping in to the passenger seat as Harry turned on the ignition.

He turned to you. “Seatbelt?”

“Already done.” You hummed as he then got the jeep moving, following down the same dirt path that the others had gone down.

When you were in a steady rhythm, you turned to look at your husband, and playfully swatted at him tattooed arm.

“I can’t believe your here aswell, thought I was seeing things.” You tightened your ponytail.

He shifted his eyes to you briefly. “— well, what can I say? They thought it would be a good idea, you can blame Ant and Dec for that one.”

“I’m not complaining, im glad your hear,”you grabbed his hand, “— we’re the dream team baby.”

He grinned at that and rubbed the back of your hand.

“Here put this on,” you handed him the pink headband whilst you put your own one on.

“Is it my colour?”he winked at you.

You smirked at him. “— oh most definitely.”

When they arrived at the next area, the first two teams were already there.

“Quick!” You jumped out of the car before it had even fully stopped and raced over to read the little bit of paper that instructed you on what to do.

Release a boat to continue the race.

Each burrow on the riverbank contains one correct key which will unlock any boat.

Choose your boat wisely.

You both grabbed ahold of the life jackets and put them on, before you could even decide who was going be putting there hands in the hell hole, Harry had already raced over to grab a key.

You went over to stand next to Danny and Tulisa as you cheered on Harry to grab a successful key.

“Sunshine boy!”you clapped your hands together. “You’ve got this, keep going.”

You watched as his face scrunched up as he felt around.

“It’s cockroaches!” Colleen exclaimed, having arrived shortly after you and Harry had.

Alan and Tulisa had unlocked the keys to the boat first, and Danny and Barry were quick to follow.

“Go h!” You screamed, watching as he recoiled his hand out of the hole.

He raced over to you. “— I’ve got one!”

The two of you raced over to one of the boats and placed the key into the padlock.

It turned.

And turned.

And turned again.

And it finally unlocked.

“Yes!”

You both ran over to one of the boats, you climbed in the front whilst Harry sat in the back and controlled the Oar.

The first two teams were ahead of you, so the chances of you catching up to them was going to be hard.

“Were sinking!” You looked behind you to see the boat filling up.

Your eyes widened. “— oh goodness!”

You tried to scoop the water out but it just kept filling up more and more.

“We’re screwed.” You met your husbands eyes.

And when you heard the sound of a flare entering the air, was when you both groaned.

“Want to go for a swim?” You smirked at him as you got up from your seat and pulled the two of you under the water.

Harry gasped for air when you both came back to the surface.

“You little minx!”

“Is the race over?” You looked behind you and saw Dean and Colleen also sinking in there boat making you laugh at the two of them.

taglist: @luvr4miya @thurhomish @shanice @lomlolivia @harryshouseo1 @gem1712 @ashleighsss

[sukuna-ryo]

The Bestfriend

(Preview)

Geto × Reader × Gojo pairing

Trigger warnings: NSFW content, including sexually explicit scenes (maybe). Poly Relationship (eventually). Emotional manipulation and power dynamics. Private relationship between counsellor and counselee is unethical so please don't date your therapist. MINORS DNI

You’ve been working at the corporate counseling department for a few months now, and one thing’s been constant: Gojo Satoru. The man, somehow, is always in your office. He’s the CEO of the company, but it seems like he’s always got some reason to book a session. At first, it felt like a weird formality, but now, you’ve gotten used to it. And honestly, you’re starting to understand why he needs so many counseling sessions. Gojo’s got this playful, carefree vibe that makes it hard to take him seriously. He’s the type of guy who seems like he’d rather make jokes than have a real conversation, but when he does talk about something deeper, you can see there’s more to him than just the annoying, charming guy who skips into your office like he owns the place.

One thing that keeps popping up, though, is his best friend. Gojo won’t stop talking about him, but he’s super vague. “Ah, my best friend? He’s too popular with girls. You really don’t want to know about him,” Gojo says, flashing that trademark grin. It’s almost like he’s trying to protect you from the guy, or maybe just doesn’t want you to meet him for reasons you can’t quite figure out—even though you’re only asking for counseling reasons.

As if that wasn’t enough, your best friend, Kugisaki Nobara, decided you were “ready” to get back out there, and set you up on a blind date. Of course, you tried to protest—you're not exactly looking for anything serious, especially not right now—but Nobara wouldn’t have it. She pushed you out of your comfort zone, and before you could say “philosophy,” you were sitting across from Geto Suguru, a calm, collected philosophy professor with a steady gaze and a soft smile.

Geto was, well... the opposite of Gojo. He’s polite, well-mannered, and you could tell he’s a genuinely kind person. His quiet intelligence made for interesting conversation, and unlike Gojo, Geto’s not the type to fill every second with jokes and antics. He seems to enjoy deep, thoughtful talks, which you find yourself looking forward to more with each date. Yet, there's one thing Geto mentions way too often. His best friend.

“Oh, him? Trust me, you don’t want to know,” Geto sighs, rubbing his temples. “He’s just... too annoying. I can’t even deal with him half the time. You don’t need that stress.”

You’re getting the sense that both of these guys have a mysterious best friend that’s somehow never worthy of a proper introduction. It’s all starting to feel a little too convenient. But hey, you’re just the counsellor for one, and there for good conversation and some nice dates with the other, right?

And while you’ve been getting to know them both separately, you can’t ignore the fact that you’re kind of enjoying their company. Gojo’s the kind of guy who can’t help but be annoying but somehow keeps you laughing even when he’s totally out of line. You can’t deny his charm, even if he drives you nuts sometimes. And Geto? Well, he’s just... easy to be around. Calm, collected, and honestly, you could spend hours talking to him about anything.

Sometimes, though, the way Geto talks about the world makes you pause—just for a second. It’s nothing obvious, just a word here or there, a tone that lingers too long. You brush it off, but it leaves you with an odd feeling you can’t quite shake.

You’re not exactly ready to call it anything serious, but as the weeks go by, you start realizing that you’re developing a little soft spot for both of them. They’re nothing alike, but that’s exactly what makes them so interesting.

What you don’t know, though, is that while you’re out here juggling dates and sessions with Gojo and Geto, something seems to be shifting in each of them. They both find themselves thinking about you more than they’d planned, though neither of them would admit it.

[pickyourpoisonandevolve]

You’ll never guess what happened. The demon came back, angrier AND hornier. I always thought I was a Price/Simon girly but Soap snuck his way all the way in here. I blame the Soap thirst edits on TikTok. Too pretty. Anywho, this is one of the rare times I don’t get bogged down in preamble, which is to say, a poorly veiled excuse to admit I don’t make it to smut very often. I hope… it’s good? Idk it’s all embarrassing.

That’s it for this one probably. I’ll see y’all out there.

All for One, One for All, part 2

Part 1 here

TW: NSFW, MDNI, fem reader. I’m bad at tags, sorry.

“I said, are you broken?”

“No sir.” You said quietly. Curled in on yourself, legs covering your important bits, your fingers fuss with the seams of the couch. You feel like you’ve done nothing but cry for the last hour, so much for being a big tough soldier.

Eyes still on you, he blinks for the first time in forever it seems. “Good.” Price finally stands. He always seems big but he’s towering, a monolith as you lay in his shadow. He takes a deep breath and says “Before we begin, I need you to be honest with me.”

Beside you, you hear Ghost wrestle Soap down to the couch, balaclava askew as he grabs his legs and forces him on his back.

“Ah, eyes on me.” Price barks. Not breaking his eyes, he pulls his shirt off. Jesus fucking Christ. It’s the military, you all have seen plenty of each other in various dress. But this is too much. He’s a hairy man, chest full of soft dark down, with a thick trail leading into his low pant line. You wonder if it’s just as thick near his cock.

Fingers snap, bringing you back to the task at hand. A chuckle shakes his shoulders. “You usually listen so well. More than these two anyways. We’ll have to work on that.” A mumble comes out of Soap, you figure it’d be more of a complaint if Ghost wasn’t biting his bottom lip.

You yip in surprise as Price falls to his knees in front of you. Irises blown out, you figure your eyes can and will fall out of your head by days end. He reaches for one of your knees, so far just feeling you, rubbing his thumb. Finally letting his gaze fall, he says, ”Why’ve you been running from me, love? You’re so… skittish. You’re such a good soldier for me,” he trails, taking your ankle in his other hand, bringing it to the floor tenderly. “I’ve never wanted to pressure you, make you feel like you’re here for the wrong reasons. You’re as much a part of this squad as I am.” His hand runs from your ankle to your toes, his warm fingers carding through them. He looks to the side. “What’s this really about?”

Your heart freezes as he treats you so gingerly. You’ve been so obsessed with your own worries, you didn’t even stop to consider that he wanted you as much as you wanted him. “I, I uh.” You take a moment to collect your thoughts, steady your breathing. Even Ghost and Soaps wrestling slows, you feel their eyes in your direction as the room falls to near silence. “I didn’t want to fuck anything up.” You say slowly, almost sadly. “I didn’t want to disappoint you. I’m a … mess. I—“ you hiccup, shaking your head, trying to push through the weight in your chest. “didn’t want you to find out that I’m not worth it.” You finish quietly.

Hands squeeze you tightly, for a moment. Price gives you a hard look. For the first time in a long time, he isn’t sure what to say. A beat goes by, then two. He finally moves, bringing both your legs down and sitting you upright in front of him, hands in yours.

Price was always good at conveying a lot wordlessly. In the field, when a new recruit fucks up during training. The look he’s giving you now is breaking your heart. Like you bring him the sun in the morning. Like all he’s ever wanted was a moment with you. He’s been doing this a long time, not a lot in his life requires the softness that he gave you freely. You gave him hope. A hope that he could be something after all this. That he could be someone who doesn’t have to carry the world all the time. He’d carry you though. As long as you’d let him.

“You let me decide that. You understand?”

The tears threatening to burst forth subside for the first time today. Something so resolute in his voice makes you feel like you finally have something concrete, something real to latch onto. Maybe a purpose is what you both needed, something you could find in each other.

“Yes sir.” You reply.

He brings one of your hands to his lips, mustache tickling as he kisses it. “That’s my girl. Now come here.”

A surprise laugh rips through you as he snatches you into his arms. You can’t help but try to slap him away and he peppers kisses onto your face. Over your eyes, your nose. He rests his forehead against your cheekbone, smiling against it. “I’ve been showing a lot of restraint, love. You let me know if it gets too much.” You’ve never heard something so sweet sound more like a threat.

A moan brings your attention to the other side of the couch, the only word you could use to describe the scene was progress. Shirts gone, pants unbuckled, hands grabbing. Ghost in all his big, fuck-off glory trailing rough kisses down Soaps chest. Soap, already blissed out, had an eye on you though. Breathlessly, he tossed a look over at Price, “Take care of our girl, Cap.” He said. You were the first to admit that your judgement was compromised to say the least, but you could have sworn you heard an edge in Soaps voice. Eyes fluttering the closer Ghost got to his cock, he still looked at you with a certain intensity. Like he’d be there if any part of Price faltered. Your heart did a flip in your chest before Soaps eyes rolled back completely. We all had our respective objectives today, it seemed.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sergeant.” You wish everything would stop happening at the same time. Your shirt, or the crumpled remains of it bunched around your shoulders gets ripped off, hair falling messily into your eyes. You hear a jangle as pants hit the floor and hands are all over you, laying you up and out. Soap and you are positioned head to head on the L-shape of the couch, your respective commanders tending to your… needs. Hair cascading around your head, you lay your hands above you, Soaps fingers tangling gently in yours.

“Suppose we have dear Johnny to thank in the first place, getting our girl out of her shell. Told Simon here he deserved something special, you know.” Price said offhandedly to you, bringing his hips over to your face. “Needed someone to warm you up for me, teamwork and whatnot.” He says as he throws you a wink. Your attention is pulled to what’s in front of you and your laugh dies in your throat. You knew he was big. You’ve caught glimpses in showers, in changing rooms. But you tried, really, you promise, not to outright ogle your captain. In this moment you start to think maybe you should have, it would have prepared you a little better emotionally.

Price’s breathing starts to get a little hitched in his chest. Something about your pretty face, underneath him looking at him like that makes his heart clench. Or maybe his balls, it’s hard to tell. Either way it makes his abs flex and his cock bob up and down. “Sweetheart, I need you,” he tells you, pumping the base. “I’m going to take care of you I promise baby. You gonna take care of your Captain?”

There’s a breathless quality to his voice. And something like liquid fire slips into your stomach. Something slippery and white hot. Seeing the man you’ve leaned on both physically and emotionally, the man you looked up to, got you out of battlefields alive, weak? For you? You look up at Price, big doe eyes taking him all in as you lean his cock gently into your mouth with two fingers. Running your tongue gingerly across the underside, you tease it a little before taking just the head in your mouth and giving it suck. Almost a kiss. You feel his torso shudder as he leans a hand to the back of the couch to support himself, curling over you for a better view.

If you weren’t so focused, you’d laugh at the chorus of moans from the men in the room. Prices eyes slipped closed, Ghosts eyes are locked on you as he has Soap in his own mouth, bobbing up and down in a steady pace. Soap however has you locked in, looking at you almost upside down, fingers clenching in yours as his brows furrow. Mouth agape, he chokes out a moan as he cums down Ghosts throat.

You take Price down further, slowly. As much as you want to tease him, you’ve been waiting just as long as he has. His length and girth are, truly too much, but you make it down, feeling the soft dark curls tickle your nose and cheeks. You wonder if your throat bulges, you’ll have to ask him later. He maintains the pace initially, hand snaking to the back of your head, but relinquishes control once you make it down his length. Your eyes peek open for a moment to see him fully engulfed into your mouth, eyes closed and muttering to you.

“Just as good as I thought you’d be, you’re so fucking good for me. You like me in your throat, baby? Like your Captain fucking your sweet little throat? Fuck.” Your hands sneak up, one running down his torso and feeling hair and corded muscle in your palm, the other one wrapped around one of his thighs. You feel him tense before he groans and pulls out of your mouth slowly. He meets you in the middle, leaning down to you as he pulls you up by your face to crush you in a kiss. The heady taste of his own cock filling his mouth as he deepens. Wanting to drown in you. His hands cradling your face, he drops one to find in between your thighs, rubbing passively around your clit, not quite enough pressure to be satisfying as you wiggle for more contact. He pulls away briefly to slap at your thighs before continuing, a check to obey. The other hand sneaks down and puts a easy pressure around the top of your throat. Not squeezing too hard, but enough to get your attention and keep you aware.

You’ve never seen his eyes so intense, he’d eat you whole if he could. He can’t help but tighten his fingers around your throat for a moment, you’re so fucking delicious. “As much as I want your sweet little mouth I need to feel you, baby. Ugh, I fucking—“ he hitches, bonking his forehead against yours, barely able to contain himself as he closes his eyes. “Tell me what you want love.” He says with a now steady voice. “Tell me how you want me and I’ll do it.”

“Let me make it up to you daddy.” You whisper, throat vibrating his large hand. His eyes shoot back open as the name shoots right to his dick. He desperately tries to remember if the medic talked about his heart at all at his last checkup, it won’t make it at this rate. He lets you go as you get up from the couch, mildly unsteady from all the angles you’ve been in today. His hands never leaving your body, he lets you position him, in a sitting position on the couch, hips forward so he’s at an angle, legs open. You can’t look at him too long like this. Fully splayed open, a lifetimes worth of muscles and scars and hard work displayed on a truly perfect canvas. He starts to pump his cock again, as he returns the look. Whatever you were, flaws and all, would always be exactly what he wanted. He understood why all those guys from the past made their wives into marble statues. He already wants to keep you forever.

You both get mildly distracted as Ghost and Soap quietly exclaim at the same time, now fully nude as Ghost positions him on his knees on the couch, hands warming his ass as he pumps himself from behind. If you see any more fit, perfect men today you are sure you’d die. “Christ, bird. Give John a show for us, he’s been waiting for ya’.” The look Ghost gives is downright sinful and he maintains eye contact as he slips into Johnnys hole. The moan that slips out of his mouth makes your pussy pulse.

Your attention comes back to Price as you crawl into his lap, rubbing your hands over his shoulders before settling around his jaw and hold his head up, hovering over his cock. “I’ve been yours since the first day I met you, John.” Your eyes rake over his features up close, running your thumbs over his lips and cheeks. “I. Feel like I’m right with you. Like I don’t feel so out of balance.” His hands snake around your waist, running his hand down your spine. You drop to his ear, wanting at least one thing just between you and him. “I’ve loved you for a long time, I’m sorry it took so long to say I—“ you get cut off by lips on yours. Not rough, but almost bruising kiss as he explores your body. Like he’s mapping it to memory. He breaks away after what seems like an eternity and whispers into yours “Show me.”

You give him your doe eyes, full of lust as you lean back, putting your hands on his knees and putting yourself on blessed display. You bring one hand between you two as you guide his cock to your entrance. His mouth drops open as he feels the tight wet heat crest the head. His head falls back to the couch as you start working yourself slowly around him, moaning as you go. “Fuck John, you’re so big,” you say breathlessly as you reach the bottom. You rock up and down, getting used to the absolutely full feeling inside and lean fully back onto his knees. You start to undulate your torso and hips ever so slightly, letting him see, showing off how he makes you feel. You close your eyes and moan, “I used to touch myself thinking how you’d feel. Your big fucking hands on me, in me. Fuck, Daddy.”

A growl rips out of him as the hands on your thighs tighten. You’re gonna be the death of him. He steals one of your hands from behind you and brings it to his mouth, licking your pointer and middle, getting them messy. He grabs your wrist and spits roughly on them one last time, and he brings your fingers to your clit.

“Show me, baby.” He commands, his combat voice leaking through. “Show daddy how you want him to touch you.” Your mouth drops open as you pick up the pace, rolling your body and hips up and down his length in earnest, and working your clit in little circles. Your tits shake to the rhythm as he takes you all in, arms spreading across the back of the couch. Your moans find a cadence, little “uh, uh, uh’s” a song in your Captains ears. His jaw tenses, positive he’d break a tooth if he clenched anymore. “I’m gonna make sure you can’t walk tomorrow. So fuckin’ perfect for me.” He squeezes out, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Your cadence starts to get sloppy in his lap, bouncing almost out of beat, rubbing your clit in quick circles. A whine sits high in your throat as you feel your orgasm build, your soft thighs bouncing on his sturdy lap. “Do you like it, daddy?” You squeak out. “Fuck, does, does it feel good?”

His hands move fast, taking your throat once again in his hands and forcing you to look at him. The other angling your hips on his cock as he finally thrusts back. Putting pressure on you, your eyes water as the light, fuzzy feeling starts to creep into your vision. “My perfect little pussy. Fuck daddy, sweetheart. Soak me, cum on daddy’s dick, come on!”

Static. Light. You feel your chest vibrate and your mouth move but can’t exactly hear as you cum. That wet feeling is back again as you feel it… everywhere. Dripping down your knees, splashing down to your ankles. Breath only comes to you shallowly. You tune in and out to a steady stream of names is being moaned into your ear as hearing returns. “Fucking such a good girl, my little whore, you did so good for me.” Hands pet your hair and warm your sides. You hear another set of strangled moans as Johnny gets louder beside you two. Ghost is fucking him fast and hard from behind, holding Johnny around his chest and keeping him up, both sets of eyes on you and John.

Your body moves on autopilot, delicate hands move off of John as you lift yourself and position yourself on your knees in front of Soap. Your fingers grip his cock, red and weepy with precum and he cries at the contact. So does Ghost, as his cock is being clenched in Soaps ass you figure. You bring your mouth down and take his head in your mouth and he can’t last. Refuses to. He cums, long and deep into your mouth, flexing his chest and almost ripping out of Simon’s arms. Simon finishes as well, hips shaking everyone as Soaps ass milks him for all he’s got. You bring yourself up, swallowing slowly and making sure Johnny sees you lick the remainder off your lips. He rips you forwards, kissing you and tasting himself. You wonder if you both will always taste like cum to each other from now on.

You feel hands rip you backwards and you fall into a big warm chest, bringing your legs up as he slots himself inside you, pussy on display to the others. You crane your neck to look at him, eyes wild, hazy, and he lands a messy kiss on the outside of your mouth, still tasting Johnny on your lips. One hand wraps around your waist as the other starts rubbing your clit in hard tight circles, just like you showed him. He hammers in to you, tits bouncing as you can’t do anything but yell. His thighs and your ass still tacky with your cum. You hold his arm tightly, trying to hold on for dear life as he speaks loudly in your ear, drowning out your moans. “Who’s are you, baby. Look them in the eye and say it.”

Your heart shatters for real this time. Overstimulated. Too many feelings all at once. Too much. Not enough. Everything you’ve always wanted as you moan loudly, “Yours! Ours!” Johnny and Simon look at you, holding each other gently. They both look back on it and say the same thing, it’s like looking into the sun. “That’s right, bird.” “Ours forever, love.”

John fucks into you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. His arm now a vice grip around you as you reach your crest again, splashing all over his thighs for a second time, in arcs and droplets all over the couch. “Ours. MINE.” He roars in your ear. He cums, hard inside you, pulses shaking you violently. His cock slips out as he pumps straight into the air, landing on your clit and pussy, making more of a mess as it drips out of your hole.

You weren’t really present for what happened after. Big, warm hands get you through a shower, keep you upright. Dry you off. A rogue hand occasionally playing with your clit before it gets slapped away by the others, chastised gently. “She’s had enough for one day, give her some time!” You find yourself coming back to, naked in a bed much larger than your own, swimming in a soft comforter. Bodies on both sides of you rub and pet you passively, just wanting some contact. You doze off, to kisses in your hairline and a bearded face tickling yours as it whispers in your ear, where no one else can hear.

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

[tweedcola]

An Afternoon Interlude on a Day Off

A little piece that sat in my WIPs for so long that I got sick of looking at it. 2.7k words of smut with Buck and Stevie.

When Bucky goes out for the afternoon, dramatically grumbling that someone needs to be an adult and keep the house stocked with groceries and first aid supplies, you figure you’ve a duty to America, a duty to the world, to strip Steve Rogers down and ride him stupid.

So, with a flick of your tongue over the curl of his ear and a few hot kisses down the thick cord of muscle in his neck Steve finds himself fully naked on your shared couch as he sinks into the wet heat of your pussy.

You bite at your lip as he fills you, forcing you to stretch around him, the sensation just shy of painful as you undulate your hips, slowly working him in until stars swim in his vision. You start a slow, dirty grind, keeping you both worked up even as you know neither of you will come like this.

Steve takes the opportunity to positively worship you, peppering the skin of your collarbones with kisses and laving over your nipples with his clever tongue, anything to ensure you continue making those sweet whining sounds that make his cock throb.

You keep each other in the intimate embrace, switching between whispering words of love and devotion with giggling like children as one of you teases the other. You know you’ve been at it for a while when the lock turns in the front door and you hear Bucky rustling in the kitchen, no doubt putting away the fruits of his labour.

You know Bucky must be aware of what you and Steve are doing, must be able to hear and smell you even from the kitchen, but you call out his name coyly anyway, halting your motion on Steve and pressing him back with a hand to his chest while you wait for your other lover.

Though you can’t see the door from your position, you know when Bucky enters the room; the energy in the air charging, becoming almost suffocating as you feel his eyes on you. That, and the way Steve’s cock flexes inside you when he catches sight of the brunet kind of gives it away.

“You’d be a useless spy Stevie,” you murmur affectionately, stroking his jaw as he shrugs, unconcerned that you know how interested his dick is in Bucky.

Now you know you have Bucky’s attention you start to move your hips again, helped along by Steve’s big hands wrapped around your waist, keeping your tempo steady and sweet around him. His eyelashes flutter as he fights to keep his eyes open, his gaze darting between drinking you in and watching Bucky slowly shed his jacket and jeans, strolling forward until he can curl over your back and run his right hand down your chest and stomach, not stopping until his fingers rest on your clit.

You give out a little high-pitched exhale of surprise, and both men struggle to contain smiles at the sweet noise before Bucky really bears down on you. He uses his free hand to tilt your chin up until your eyes meet his, glassy with pleasure.

“Hey sweetheart,” he says, his voice low and dark with arousal, chuckling when both you and Steve reply to his greeting. You’re so delightful, undulating against Steve but your eyes never straying from his that Bucky can’t help but duck down to press sweet kisses against your lips until he has you giggling and gasping and he can slip his tongue into your mouth.

He kisses you deeply, and Steve watches as the other man teases your tongue with his own. He rocks his hips up into you until you move your head back to moan, harsh breaths forcing their way past your lips.

“Look so good like this sugar,” Bucky mumbles against your neck. “So pretty, sittin’ on Stevie’s dick.”

You gasp at the same time Steve does, and he appreciates the blush that flutters down your neck and chest almost as much as the rhythmic clench of your pussy around his cock at Bucky’s praising words.

You pick up your movements, grinding against the blond while Bucky continues to pepper kisses down your throat and back, sinking to his knees and eyeing Steve over your shoulder. You tilt back so you can rub your hand against Bucky even as you tease Steve, luxuriating in the grunt that he releases and the way he can’t restrain the desperate rutting of his hips up to your palm.

Steve, stimulated to the point of madness but desperate for further friction, reaches down to play with your clit now that Bucky has re-situated his hands to your hips, rolling his fingers over the bundle of nerves slowly until you whine and start bouncing in earnest.

“Oh, that’s good sweetheart,” he groans out. You watch the bliss wash over his face and tangle your fingers in his hair, drawing him close for a chaste kiss.

“Buck,” you mumble against Steve’s lips. “And Steve?”

Bucky pauses his movements and drapes himself across your back, the weight of him forcing your chest flush against Steve’s.

“And Steve what, sweet thing?” he questions.

“You have to tell Steve how good he looks,” you explain breathily, “how pretty he is when –” your breath hitches on a particularly hard thrust of Steve’s hips “ – when he’s fillin’ me up Buck.”

Steve whines and sinks his teeth in your neck as he shudders through his sudden orgasm and you and Bucky share a surprised look. Steve is normally the king of stamina, reveling in anticipation and denial and so his unexpected climax is all the more delicious for you.

You continue whispering praise into his ear as he groans and rocks you above him, milking out as much pleasure as possible before he slumps backwards into the couch.

“Stevie,” you purr, not even trying to hide how delighted you sound. “Did you come, baby?”

Steve cracks an eye open to peer at you, before groaning and covering his face with his hands at the matching devilish grins you and Bucky are wearing.

“God, you know I did,” he admits. You give out a pleased laugh and he hisses as your muscles contract around him. He gives a valiant twitch within you but you take pity on him, lifting yourself from his lap and allowing him to slip from you before perching further back on his thighs, relying on Bucky to stop you from falling.

“Sugar,” urges Bucky, reminding you of his predicament with a press of his hips to your ass.

“Oh Buck,” you respond with faux sympathy. “Don’t you think we should clean Steve up first?”

“Sugar,” he says again, his voice raising in pitch as his desperation increases. “Baby, sweetheart – please let me fuck you. Need you so bad honey.” And oh, how you adore teasing these boys, but you love giving in to them even more.

“Help me up then Buck,” you command. The words are barely past your lips before Bucky is lifting you and settling you into the couch, pressing between your legs to cup your tits and kiss your neck again. He draws back to remove his boxers, and his shirt when you tug at it, but pauses when his eyes fall to your cunt.

“Steve, man, you gotta get down here.” Bucky reaches forward and runs his fingers lightly through your slit, sliding Steve’s come around your clit before diving into your pussy. You watch as a light shiver runs down his spine as the pleasure of his touch lights up the nerves in your own.

“Steve’s not here,” mutters the man to your left, “come back later.” Steve is barely lucid at this point, the force of his orgasm having wrecked him and you smile softly even as your breath gets stuck in your throat due to Bucky’s ministrations. 

“Your fuckin’ loss punk,” Bucky mutters, his eyes fixed on the mess between your thighs. The movement of his fingers is almost torturous, keeping your nerves alight with anticipation but doing very little to quench your thirst for him and you can tell that your pleasure has taken a backseat to his playing.

“Bu-uck,” you whine, nudging at his knee with your toes as you shift on his fingers, drawing in a shaky breath when the movement forces the tips of his digits against your g-spot briefly.

His eyes flick up to you and he gives you a mischievous grin as he repeats the motion, curling his fingers upwards as the muscles in your stomach jump.

“S’good Buck,” you whisper, feeling that inexorable climb begin again, white heat starting at your clit and slowly growing as Bucky pushes you towards your end.

“Just like that Sugar, fuck, got such a pretty pussy baby,” Bucky praises. You clench around his fingers at the words and he curses under his breath, removing his left hand from where it had been resting on your thigh to steady himself and fisting his length, gripping and releasing in time with the contractions of your cunt as you approach your high.

Bucky passes his thumb over your clit, and though his rhythm is a little shaky it still makes you mewl and arch towards him, earning you twin exclamations of fuck! from your boys. If you had the mental capacity you might have teased Steve but your whole world is currently focused on Bucky, and you fight to keep your eyes open and fixed on his.

“Fuck – fuck, sugar I can’t wait, I’m sorry m’sorry-“ you’re not sure what he’s apologising for as he quickly moves forward and sheaths himself within you in one smooth stroke, your slickness and Steve’s come paving the way for Bucky to slide in easily. He doesn’t give you time to adjust, rutting his hips against yours desperately and you’re coming in seconds.

“Buck – can’t hold it - ” you gasp, letting the pleasure light up your spine and gushing around him where he’s buried to the hilt within you.

“Ah yeah sugar, jus’ like that,” Bucky pants, thrusting against you to draw out your orgasm. You’ve not even come down when he’s stroking at your clit again, murmuring into your ear; “Again baby? Can you give me another one?”

You’re honestly not sure if you can but you’re certainly not going to tell Bucky that and deny yourself the pleasure of seeing him come inside you. Especially not as you feel Steve’s hand join Bucky’s between your bodies, his thick fingers circling the base of his partner’s cock until the other man whimpers, and you know that if you give them even an inkling that you might be getting tired then Steve will gladly slip into your place. And while you love watching your guys fuck, you’re not about to relinquish your turn just yet.

“Please Buck,” you whine, lifting your hips up and circling them before dropping back down to make his cock hit that soft part of you that has you seeing stars and your heartbeat pulsing in your pussy. You turn and hide a smile in Steve’s shoulder as Bucky’s eyelids flutter and he sinks his teeth into his lower lip.

Steve moves forward, dropping a sweet kiss to your cheek before sliding his hand further down, cupping Bucky’s balls before tugging on them gently. “C’mon Buck,” Steve husks, “if you wanna see her come again you gotta work for it.”

And then – “oh god,” or maybe you should be praying to the golden-haired idol next to you because you thought you couldn’t come again but Steve’s hands on Bucky have made him feral.

Bucky curves over you, gathering your thighs in his strong grip to push them high, up past his torso until they’re resting against his shoulders and you’re tipped almost horizontal, hanging off the couch. He’s panting, and you’re not sure what Steve’s doing but it’s taking everything in Bucky to hold back, to treat you with the care that he knows he has to take with you.

You’re not having it.

“Bucky,” you coo, letting yourself slump back, arranging your arms above your head and arching your back until your tits jut out proudly, just the way you know he likes. “Don’t hold back. I can take it.”

Bucky looks at you for a long moment, his hips stuttering briefly before he squeezes his eyes shut. A strangled “fuck” escapes him briefly and then he starts bullying his cock into you like he’s never going to get the chance to again, like he’s got something to prove, like he’s trying to carve out a space for himself inside you.

Though Bucky’s grasp on your hips is tight to allow him to keep pulling you into him your hand shoots out for stability, grabbing first at Steve’s knee and then his hand when he replaces it for you. He squeezes your fingers but you’re barely aware of it; near delirious under the onslaught of pleasure that Bucky’s cock is forcing from you.

“C’mon sweetheart,” Steve murmurs into your ear, his lips brushing the delicate skin and causing goosebumps to rise all over your body, “look at Bucky. He’s so close, he just needs you to come one more time for him. I know you can be a good girl and come again.”

You keen when Steve presses his thumb between your lips, urging you to coat the digit in your saliva before swiftly bringing it down your body to put pressure on your clit, massaging you back and forth. Bucky watches you hungrily stilling his hips for just a moment so you meet his eye before leaning forward and spitting with frankly impressive aim directly onto the spot Steve is still rubbing.

It’s filthy, unnecessary, and honestly if you’d thought about it in any other setting you’d have said it’s something you’re not into at all but in the heat of the moment you’re moaning as soon as Bucky’s lips purse and chanting “fuckmefuckmefuckme” by the time his saliva hits your skin. Steve grins as Bucky’s eyes roll into the back of his head and he picks up his pace again, gripping your thighs and hitting a place so deep inside you that your eyes water.

Through all this Steve hasn’t stopped with his clever fingers and you can feel your climax building, both men taking you higher and higher until you shatter, your back lifted high in an arch and the muscles in your legs clenching against each wave. It’s so intense you almost miss the delicious whimper that Bucky makes as he buries himself deep a final time and shudders through his own high.

He collapses down towards you, trapping Steve’s hand between your bodies while you both pant, and though your arms shake with the effort, you bring them up to card your fingers through his damp hair. You estimate than less than 15 seconds pass before Bucky’s chest rumbles with his deep laugh and you pry your eyes open to see Steve kissing his way up Bucky’s shoulder, face full of mischief.

“Can you give me a minute, punk?” Bucky huffs into your neck before wriggling back and letting your legs flop down, your feet hitting the floor with two muted thuds. He massages your hips and thighs until you sigh with relief, the straining muscles easing as your overworked body begins to relax.

“There,” Bucky pushes all the way back, leaving you as a puddle of satisfaction on the sofa before he turns to Steve who sits up at the sudden attention, cock once again straining towards the brunet. “Now,” Bucky places both hands on Steve’s thighs and brings his face to within an inch of his and you hear Steve’s sharp intake of breath.

The anticipation of the moment stretches and just as you’re sure Bucky is about to kiss Steve he breaks into a grin and whispers; “groceries. Get to it Stevie,” before jumping to his feet and scooping you up, running for the shower before Steve can catch up.

Hope you enjoyed! xx

[nicksboy]

heyyyy…so i was thinking about fwb!chris and innoccent sweetheart!reader? Chris is basically in his obsessed era and calls reader Late at Night because he needs her for whatsoever? Im sorry if it doesnt make and sense but thats my idea

A/N: okay, so, erm, this is a lot of angst - more than I thought there’d be LMAO. Listen I woulda’ done smut but I really wasn’t sure of what direction to go.

[C.S./F!Reader] “afraid”

Key elements: Angst.

Pairing: FWB!Chris & Sweet!Fem!Reader

> note: i don’t think i captured the innocent element, but i only rlly noticed that after i finished and was reading it over. Sorry lol

There was a knock on the door.

The rain pounded against your window, filling the quiet of your room with a steady rhythm. Outside, the world is a blur of grays and silvers, headlights from passing cars streaking through the downpour. After you got the dinner you ordered from the porch, you were cocooned in blankets, half-listening to the storm, half-lost in your thoughts. It’s the kind of night that begs for solitude.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, the vibration almost lost beneath the drumming rain. You glance at it lazily, expecting a random notification. But when you see his name—Chris—lit up on the screen, your chest tightens. He never calls.

Hesitating, you pick up the phone and swipe to answer. “Hey,” you say softly, unsure why he’d be reaching out so late.

“Hey.” His voice is low, almost muffled. It carries an edge of uncertainty, the kind that makes your stomach twist. He pauses, and for a second, all you hear is the faint crackle of static on the line.

“What’s up?” you ask, trying to sound casual, though your curiosity is already buzzing.

“I, uh…” He sighs, the hesitation in his voice thick. “Can you come over?”

You sit up, your blankets slipping away as you grip the phone tighter. The clock on your nightstand glows with the late hour, making his request feel even stranger.

“Now?” you ask, frowning. This isn’t like him. Chris doesn’t call you out of the blue, especially not at night, and definitely not to ask you for something.

“Yeah,” he says, quick and almost defensive, like he can sense your hesitation. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

There’s something in his tone that tugs at you, a quiet vulnerability you’ve never heard from him before. It’s enough to make your resolve crumble.

“Okay,” you say after a moment, your voice steady even as unease churns in your chest. “I’ll be over soon.”

The line goes dead, leaving you in the stillness of your room. But the silence feels heavier now, charged with something unspoken. Tossing the blanket aside, you grab your jacket and head for the door.

Outside, the rain continues to pour, cold and unrelenting.

The rain doesn’t let up during the drive, each drop on the windshield a reminder of the strange tension building in your chest. Chris’s house comes into view, dimly lit against the storm, and you pull into the driveway with more hesitation than you’d like to admit. The whole thing feels off—his call, the way he sounded, and now, the unease prickling at the back of your neck.

You step out of the car, tugging your jacket tighter against the cold. The front porch light flickers, casting fleeting shadows over the rain-soaked yard. You climb the steps, but before you can knock, the door opens abruptly, and Chris is there.

His expression is hard to read, a mix of relief and something else—something darker, like he’s been waging a silent war with himself. He doesn’t say a word, just grabs your wrist gently and pulls you inside, closing the door behind you with barely a sound.

“Chris—” you start, but he holds a finger to his lips, his other hand already guiding you away from the stairs.

You follow him, your footsteps barely audible against the creak of the old wood. The house feels eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the TV from an upstairs room. He moves quickly, almost urgently, and you can’t help but notice the way his grip tightens slightly when you both reach the door.

His room is dimly lit, the faint glow of a lamp illuminating the clutter on his desk and the unmade bed. He shuts the door quietly behind you, leaning against it for a moment as if to steady himself.

“Okay,” you say, crossing your arms as you turn to face him. “What’s going on?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he paces, running a hand through his hair. His movements are restless, his jaw tight, like he’s trying to figure out how to explain whatever’s weighing on him.

“Chris,” you press gently. “You’re starting to freak me out. What’s wrong?”

He stops pacing and looks at you, his gaze intense enough to make your breath hitch. There’s a storm in his eyes, one that mirrors the rain outside—a chaotic swirl of guilt, desire, and something deeper you can’t quite place.

“I shouldn’t have called you,” he mutters, almost to himself.

You take a step closer, frustration bubbling up. “Then why did you?”

Another pause. His eyes flicker to yours, and for a moment, you think he’s going to say something. But instead, he closes the distance between you in a single step, his hands finding your face as his lips crash against yours.

It’s not soft, not tentative—it’s desperate, like he’s trying to say everything he can’t put into words. His touch is warm despite the rain still clinging to his clothes, and the heat of it floods your senses, leaving you breathless.

For a moment, you forget the questions, the unease, the storm outside. You melt into him, your hands instinctively gripping his shirt as he deepens the kiss. The air between you hums with tension, every unspoken word and repressed feeling coming to the surface in the way he holds you.

But just as quickly as it started, it’s interrupted by a sharp thud at the door.

Both of you freeze, his forehead still resting against yours. The sound echoes in the quiet room, pulling you back to reality.

“Chris?” It’s a familiar voice, muffled through the door. One of his brothers.

His hands drop from your face, his expression shifting to something closer to panic.

The silence in Chris’s room feels heavier now that he’s gone. The soft hum of the lamp seems louder, the ticking of the clock on the wall uncomfortably noticeable. You sit on the edge of the bed, fingers brushing the sheets, your thoughts replaying the kiss. His lips had been warm, urgent, like he needed it just as much as you did—like he needed you. But as the minutes pass, that flutter in your chest fades, replaced with doubt.

Maybe it didn’t mean anything. It was just a kiss, right? You weren’t anything more than the friend Chris sometimes slept with. He had never wanted anything beyond that, and neither had you—at least, that’s what you tell yourself as you try to calm your racing heart.

It’s easy to convince yourself that you’re fine. That nothing has changed. That you’re not questioning everything now.

The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs pulls you from your thoughts. Chris’s voice follows, muffled by the door. You can’t make out the words, but it sounds casual—like the conversation he’s having is nothing important. A few seconds later, the door creaks open, and Chris walks back in, his usual calm demeanor slipping back into place.

He gives you a glance, but neither of you speaks at first. The air is thick with something unspoken, something that wasn’t there before.

Chris moves to the desk, sitting down with a sigh, hands rubbing his face like he’s trying to clear his head. You watch him quietly, the tension between you both palpable now.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly, trying not to pressure him, though the need to know what’s wrong is strong.

His eyes flick to yours for a second before he looks away. He doesn’t answer immediately, and that makes your stomach knot in uncertainty.

“Chris,” you push a little, but still gentle. “What’s going on?”

He leans back in the chair, his eyes focusing on the desk, his expression unreadable. “I… I don’t know,” he says, voice tight. “I just… I’m worried about us.”

The words hang in the air between you, and you wait for him to elaborate, but the longer he stays quiet, the more you wonder if this is something you should have seen coming.

“You’re worried about us?” You repeat, feeling a chill run through you. “What do you mean?”

He shifts in the chair, clearly uncomfortable, like he’s not sure how to phrase it. His fingers tap on the armrest as he searches for the right words. “Our… relationship,” he finally says, though the word feels strange coming from him. “What we’re doing. It’s messing with everything.”

“Messing with what?” You feel your heart race. “You mean, like, us being friends with benefits?”

He nods slowly, his gaze never meeting yours. “Yeah. It’s… it’s not just about us anymore, though. I’m worried about what people might think if it gets out. The… the publicity. The attention. I don’t want to put either of us in that position.”

You frown, biting your lip. This doesn’t make sense. The relationship, as unconventional as it might be, wasn’t supposed to be complicated. You weren’t supposed to question anything. Just sex. Just fun. But the way Chris is talking—his words full of hesitation and concern—makes you question everything.

“Is that all? Is that really what you’re worried about?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, a hint of frustration creeping in.

He runs a hand through his hair again, eyes flitting nervously around the room. “It’s not just about the publicity,” he mutters. “It’s… I don’t know.” He falls silent again, his expression distant, like he’s trying to understand his own thoughts.

The tension is unbearable now. You can feel the space between you both closing in on itself, thick with unspoken feelings, both of you too afraid to cross that line.

“Chris,” you say, your voice breaking through the silence. “What’s really going on? What’s bothering you?”

He stands suddenly, the chair scraping against the floor, and moves toward the window, staring out at the rain. You watch him, sensing that he’s trying to find a way to tell you the truth without admitting it outright.

“I’m scared,” he admits quietly, the words coming out in a rush. “I’m scared of what this is doing to us. Scared of what it might turn into… or what I might turn into.”

The room is silent except for the sound of the rain outside. You stand, too, taking a step closer to him, but you stop short, unsure of whether to push further.

“Chris…”

He turns to face you, his eyes filled with a storm of their own. He’s holding something back, but the words never come. Instead, his gaze softens, and for a split second, it’s almost like he wants to say more—something deeper, something more honest.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, the awkwardness settles in again, and you both sit in the uncomfortable silence. Neither of you dares to break it, but you can feel the unspoken words lingering between you, a bond neither of you can ignore.

You look at him, your chest tight, and realize the truth: You’re both scared of what’s happening—scared of what this means, scared of what you might mean to each other.

And yet, neither of you does anything about it. You just sit there, both of you knowing things are changing but unsure how to move forward.

The quiet between you is heavier than the rain outside.

And then, again, there’s a knock at the door.

[askoverlordvox]

"Depends on how you define my 'endeavors'." He waggles his brows and chuckles, unable to resist the little joke. "They support me in their own ways. Jenn works for me as part of my research and development team- she's got a creative mind. Plus, she's... kinder, more compassionate- she reins in my more violent or extreme impulses. Zestial, well, he's got a lot of his own stuff going on at present but he... steadies me. Challenges me to be a better man, to slow down and think, to be more exacting with my actions. He's also a great conversationalist; getting to talk to him and listen to his voice relaxes me." Vox pours more of the sake and drinks it, snagging more of the sashimi. "Alastor, on the other hand, matches me step-for-step. Pushes me to innovate, to find solutions, to keep trying- he trades barbs with me like we're boxers in a ring but he's there to kiss it and make it better at the end- don't tell him I said that. The Radio Demon has a reputation to uphold." He chuckles. "And Angel is... my safe place. We have such big public personas that we can just... drop around each other. It's hard, though. It's when we're quietest that we end up saying the most important shit, because we're still at the point where we talk around things by default."

Vox sits back in his chair as he chews on his latest bite, contemplating. "Al won't want to go near a sex club- not his scene. Jenn would probably be too embarrassed to entertain the idea. Zestial might go for curiosity's sake and Angel would probably think visiting would be a cute date night activity. Al and Jenn visit me at work all the time, though, and Zestial occasionally. Angel hasn't and that's fair- even if it's not the tower, the branding hasn't changed, and there's history there. I get that." He looks at Lilin. "While I care for them all, they're very unique people. My partners are distinctive jewels in Hell's crown. So, you might see some more than others but don't take that to mean I favor one over the other. The one thing they all share in common is that indominable spark in their souls, that tenacious fire that drives them forward, through good times and bad- I find it... irresistable."

He finishes off the bottle of sake and sets it aside, his grin sharp. "So, tell me... how often does a succubi decide to strike out on her own and directly challenge her former boss in his own area of expertise?"

Well, well, Vox… fancy running into you here.

(( @lustinlilin ))

My reputation does precede me but I’m… having a bit of trouble placing the face, my dear. You certainly look familiar.

[hopingforcoordinates]

wait i read your tags on an older post and now im wondering how andrew is feeling about their new dynamic after neil saw him as a threat/the rocky start. ugh your take on them feeds me!

In my head, for Andrew, his Thing with Neil is ultimately meaningless with a tidy little expiration date stamped on it, but there's also a weight to it that's impossible to ignore. The other two or three guys he's messed around with said yes because Andrew was convenient or good with his mouth or whatever, but Neil said yes to Andrew because he's Andrew. Neil's trust is a really heavy thing, but it makes Andrew feel almost lighter than air. He's known, he's trusted, and he's understood. It's addictive.

At this point, he's thinking that he'll send Neil back to the Nest with his number. Couldn't hurt to stay in touch, right?

[itspileofgoodthings]

I don’t even fully know why but “what do I do when I miss you so much?” / “Just wait, and pray desperately” was a knife to my heart in the best way.

[menodoramoon]

She can't help but give a half-humored smile. Almost fair, they had said. Understandable. It was always somewhat uneven. Though, she knows what they mean. Perhaps she had all the magical defenses, but he could kill her easily. She could not come close without corrupted intervention.

The inside of her wrist begins to sting again, pangs of dread echoing in Menodora's heartbeat.

She can see the way he shifts as he touches to the wound on his shoulder. The one she had left there. Her loss of control haunts her now, the way that she had let go of her restraint enough to threaten him. Would she have done the same to anyone else who brought those harsh -- maybe -- truths upon her? Her feelings had been hurt but shouldn't be enough to want to cause harm to anyone. To kill or maim or injure. What kind of Countess was she to do something like that, to someone she at one point had sworn, as a person of Mjaunie, to protect.

Once upon a time, she had sworn to them that she would be a different sort of person.

It felt like that grief was mine, Moon doesn't say, because to replay those memories wouldn't be worth it. It brings them back to that cycle and she doesn't want that. Of harm to each other -- her oblivious nature which irks him, his vicious tongue. How had the two of them ever been friends with these key differences in who they are as people?

She'd looked up to him. They'd been under her power, even if she hadn't realized it at the time. The civilized monster of Mjaunie, aiding the lords and ladies by leveraging their understanding of history and politics. He was a good Monster, she was told. When he turned on her, it felt like a personal betrayal. But it's not so easy, is it?

He rejects her offer to pay for the damages, and while she opens her mouth to protest, she can sense it's far from a mere formality. The refusal is not a performative action, asking Menodora to come back and insist. Tófi was never that way anyhow.

Simply, Menodora nods, accepting. If they were to ask, she'd acquiesce immediately. But for now, she would leave it alone.

Moon's face burns with a subtle shame as she tries to steady her previously rage-filled breathing. As she tries to settle her elevated heart rate. She is angry and angst-ridden but it's not fair for her to feel so hurt when she had quite literally stabbed Tófi for stating things that, while having strung, were true. At least to the degree that Tófi believed them to be true.

"I'm not asking for an apology," Menodora says, meaning it. She flexes her fingers, where her daggers had begun to burn the inside of her fingers. Or at least gave the illusion of such a thing.

He steps towards her as that anguish takes over and she can't help but flinch slightly, taking a half step back. They made no move to hurt her, yet that didn't mean they couldn't. They had done so with their tone and harsh words. She is still reeling, but it's her own mistrust that betrays her. And for that, Menodora is deeply frustrated.

'I should have some ibuprofen somewhere in the kitchen,' they say as they rest their hand on her shoulder. Funny, she thinks. The same one with the phantom scars. But that's not something she'll bring up. It was merely a dream.

Has the darkness spread further up her arms? She feels a slight despair as the stains remind her exactly what she's traded to get them here.

Yes, her and Tófi's friendship, but any semblance of her sense of self as well. Every time she thinks she could be a better person, she's dragged back to the memory of that day.

Isn't that so self-pitying? Tófi wouldn't approve, and neither would mother, she expects.

Still, it hurts. It leaves a slight burning in her fingertips, unrelated to the knives. And pricks under the skin, like it was magic wanting to spill out the same way light does.

It's not shadow magic, something she could control if she only dedicated herself. It's something deeper, a flow of magic that feels unnatural within her body.

"I suppose I attacked you more literally," Menodora murmurs. They don't apologize. It doesn't evade her notice. They'd always been that way, the implication of a thing that was not meant.

Even now, they're concerned for her. She nods, a bit unsteadily. Instead of the half-sob, she's now wracked with an aching headache. Was it the feeling of being weighed down by that old magic, or simply an over-excited over-exertion.

Menodora glances around, looking for something to steady herself. It's only Tófi that she can learn on at this moment. So, she swallows her pride and does so, trying to relax her body and lean slightly into the hand that rests on her shoulder. Trying not to sway slightly. She feels ill and unwell and guilty. Not so bad as to see stars or small, dancing lights, or to see the edge of consciousness, but she feels the need to close her eyes.

She won't. Not yet.

"And what, dear Torvald," She murmurs, wincing slightly at the pinging headache that was forming, "makes such a biting performance necessary?"

She's not exactly looking for an answer, but it's an interesting consideration.

"I'm feeling… a little dizzy, Tófi," she says. finally bringing a hand to press against her temple. "Would you mind terribly if I rested for a moment so long as I promise not to set any more of your possessions ablaze…?"

@ofseptarsis

genfødte sandheder || Tófi & Moon