#but honestly. this may be the only way it Could have turned out.

[velaris-fic-repository]

What the Tide Brings In (Part 4)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Loading and unloading ship cargo turned out to be a fantastic way to reacclimatize yourself and your healed body after the accident. You made dock friends fast and before you knew it, you knew the name of every ship brat and which mother to threaten to report to when the kids poked around with something they weren’t supposed to.

You wouldn’t of course, it was just fun to scare ‘em a little. Cute kids, all of them. You’d tell them some of your pirate stories whenever they asked. If you embellished here and there that’s fine, it’s what a pirate story was for.

You placed the final crate onto the stationary ship, before returning to the merchant it belonged to on the dock.

“That everything?”

“I believe so,” he said, taking a quick glance at the manifest in his hands. Once certain everything had been accounted for, he returned his gaze to you. “You know, if you were so inclined, we could always use another hand out there on this voyage. It wouldn’t be long, just sailing over to Boreala and back. It would only be a few days, and you’ve been so helpful.”

Dread and shame found a way to get their hooks into you. It had only been a month. You weren’t ready yet, and a very large portion of you hated yourself for it.

Still, you said, “I appreciate the offer, but I’m still settling in here. Maybe ask Evander.”

The merchant frowned but nodded, “thank you dear, maybe next time.”

“Maybe next time, fair winds and safe sailing to you,” and you walked off. The crew gathered and untied from their moorings shortly after as you watched.

A small wisp of wind flitted between your fingers, a neglected power wishing to be used. Smiling faintly, you wove your hands around each other as a small ball of wind gathered between them.

It wasn’t a particularly unique power amongst Summer Court residents, especially those who grew up amongst the ropes and wood of sailing vessels, but it was yours. The sea breeze, if you asked nicely, would come to your aid in small doses. It was incredibly useful when your means of transportation relied on heavy sheets of cloth. The real stunning power from your part of Summer was dominion over water, and in case recent events weren’t enough to go on, the ocean may call to you, but it didn’t have to listen to you in return.

Once you’d gathered the amount of wind you wanted, you pushed your hands outward, sending the wind in the direction the ship had been heading. Your wind caught in the sails, giving the vessel a nice boost further out into the harbor. You could make out some of the crew glancing back your way, so you smiled, sending a coy wave back at them. You got some waves back as you felt a presence on your left.

“Full of surprises, aren’t you?” Azriel said.

You felt through the threads in your chest, nothing on the other side. Not yet. Why did you even bother checking?

“You have no idea,” is how you answered him.

“How long have you been able to pull the wind like that?” he asked.

“It’s a little embarrassing where I come from, I was a late bloomer,” you admitted. You pulled a small amount of air to you, dancing it through your fingers absently.

“So was I.”

You stopped. Turned.

“You?”

Azriel flexed his wings, “I didn’t fly until I was eleven.”

He hadn’t told you everything about Illyrian culture or his childhood. You made a few guesses, but never told him or pushed for more information. It was easy, being around you, he found.

“Well, I couldn’t touch the wind until I was twelve. Looks like you won.”

Azriel hummed, watching the water with you in your customary comfortable quiet.

“You’re not gonna gloat?” you asked, humor in your voice.

His neutral expression, despite its fight to stay in place, cracked a little. Veins of amusement showed themselves on his features as he looked at you. “Do you want me to?”

“I always appreciate a challenge,” you said.

“Then why did you let me win?”

You blinked then recovered, honestly saying, “I thought you’d earned it.” You nudged him with your elbow, smiling, a second after, “but don’t expect a repeat, got it?”

He laughed with you, “got it.”

The stars and moon were out over Velaris as the activity in the harbor continued to pass you both by. Azriel offered you his arm.

“Walk you home?”

“Sure.”

He brought you back to the little apartment he’d helped you find. It wasn’t the prettiest or biggest by any stretch of the imagination. It felt more like a large closet some days, but when your list of belongings started and ended with the clothes on your back, you didn’t need much. You’d spent most of your three centuries of life sleeping in a hammock in smaller quarters. The apartment itself was the adjustment, not the size of it. You’d found sleep difficult without the bobbing of the waves beneath you.

The one window the apartment had though had a clear view of the harbor, and you loved it.

You unlocked the door, “you can come in if you want.”

Azriel offered to help move you in when you’d started in the place originally, but when faced with a smart mouthed comment from you about ‘what exactly did he think he would need to help move’ he realized it was sort of a foolish offer. He’d never actually been inside.

Luckily for you and the golden threaded secret you kept, you didn’t have much in the way of offer-able food. Also luckily for you, Azriel seemed more interested in looking around your space than expecting you to be a host.

In the brief weeks you’ve lived here, you’ve amassed a handful of belongings. The apartment was pre-furnished and not very well, so he did not spare lingering glances on those pieces. The bookcase however, had a few things nestled into it. Small pieces of artwork of various mediums, all in one way or another inspired by the sea. Wood carvings of a shark and a few fish. A small watercolor of the sea at night. A tiny model sailing ship and assorted shells.

Reminders, a shadow whispered curiously by his ear, guessing.

There were a few small books stacked haphazardly in the bookcase too. Seemingly placed wherever it was you deemed to place it with no attempt at reordering them. A short novel or two. A poetry collection seemingly of nautical nature, and what looked like from the spine, a binding of sheet music for sea shanties.

Azriel prided himself on his deductive skills. Even without his shadows, he excelled at reading people. Someone’s place of residence can tell just as much about them as their body language and the pitch of their voice. On habit, he turned his eye to your space.

Disorder in the placement of all these objects. Spontaneity, duh. Bursts of activity. Out of house a lot. Working extra shifts?

Common thread between the pieces. Pride. Longing. Reassertion of personal history. Joy in small amounts.

Pristine state of objects. New, but also cared for. Reverence. Pride, again.

Azriel smiled faintly.

“Find any evidence of treachery or treason yet?” you called from the kitchenette.

Azriel quickly realized you had been watching him. Of course you were, this was a small space and he was about the only thing in it. The words you said were accusatory but your tone and wry smile suggested teasing. More than that, he knew, he knew you. You’d found another way to poke fun at him, and as always, he was unbothered. Liked it even, if your eyes glistened like that.

He locked down that thought as quickly as he could, not that he was terribly successful.

You had two glasses laid out on the little half counter that separated your ‘kitchen’ from the rest of the apartment, each with a small splash of whiskey in it.

“Took the liberty of pouring you some,” you said, your skin unfortunately itching at the thought of just how different this moment would be had it been food, “just a little something. I have to at least pretend like I’m a good host right?”

Azriel chuckled, accepting the glass from the other side of the half wall.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” he said.

“Thanks,” you answered, sarcastically, “a friend of mine helped me find it.”

Azriel huffed a little laugh again, the two of you falling into comfortable silence as you sipped your glasses.

Azriel eventually finished his and set it down, mulling over a thought. Finally, he voiced it. “I saw you with that merchant today. It seemed like a great opportunity to get out on the water again.” He waited for you, when you didn’t respond, pouring yourself another glass, he continued, softly, “why didn’t you take it?”

You took a gulp of your whiskey and scanned his features. He recognized the look on your face, he’d seen it before when he first met you. Looking for a way out.

He stayed firm. Soft and open, but present and by no means going anywhere. You didn’t have to tell him, but his look let you know that he would ask again - maybe not now, but definitely later.

You sighed, downed the rest of your glass in one pull and set it down.

“Because I can’t and I hate it.”

He remained silent, waiting for you.

“I can’t,” you said again, voice and hands shaking.

Azriel reached forward, grabbing your hands in his, rubbing his thumb over one pair of your knuckles. Your hands were not scarred like his, but they bore countless calluses and divots from centuries of handling ropes and wood. You’d seen his hands before, holding your own up to prove his weren’t so bad. He did not fear holding your hands now.

“Tell me how sailing felt before” he prompted.

How were you supposed to do that?

It must have been written on your face because Azriel said, “I know it might be hard. Just try.”

Try. You could do that.

“It was… everything.” A soothing thumb stroked your knuckle, encouragement.

“It was adventure and sunlight and joy. The kind of feeling where your heart just lifts in your chest and you feel… free. The sea spray splashing at your face, the wind whipping around you. I’ve never felt as strong as I do with my boots sturdily planted on the deck of a ship.”

You’re lost in it for a moment, before a stroke across your knuckle pulled you back. Lacking for what else to say, you asked him, “what’s flying like for you?”

He met your eyes, “the same. I’ve never felt more powerful and free than when I’m in the air.”

You let your gaze drop, frustrated with yourself, “and I’ve lost it.”

Azriel reached up with one hand, still brushing your knuckle with the other, and cupped your face by the cheek.

“No you haven’t.”

“I can’t even think about going sailing without a pit of dread forming in my stomach,” you frowned.

“You’ve been through something awful,” he asserted, “of course the last thing you’d want to do is open yourself up to that danger again. When… When I was first learning how to fly, I fell. Bad. Every time I thought about trying again, I felt like I would be sick. I didn’t try again for weeks, resigned that I would never do it. I would never fly. My wings were useless and… and so was I.”

Your chest ached but he pushed forward, “That was until two bastards more stubborn than me all but forced me back up there. It was slow. It took time. But eventually, I wasn’t scared anymore. Not in a paralyzing way like I’d been before. I respected the dangers of the action. The risks I subjected myself to every time I did it. I learned to trust my wings, I learned to trust myself, and I was free again.”

You exhaled a shaky breath.

“You can be too,” he said, ��I’ll help you trust the sea again if you’d like to try.”

Tears pricked your eyes but you blinked them away.

“Try. I can do that.”

Series Taglist: @rcarbo1 @shylahstarzz @tele86 @bubybubsters @willowpains @breemitch15 @96jnie @polli05927 @starsidesigh

[ryewwww]

Part 3 for the yandere!ex!bully!Eren x Reader after they leave the hospital?

hihihi, here’s part 3 (last part)

Part 1

Part 2

⚠️: NON CON, DARK THEMES, DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED EASILY, physical and mental abuse, bondage, objectification

It was midday

You’re sitting on the couch in your new family home.

Your newborn is fast asleep in his bouncer

After you found out you were pregnant, Eren, his family and your mother pressured you into marriage, even though you didn’t want to.

It was bad enough you had a child with him, but being married added another layer of complication

But you’ll give credit when it’s due.

Eren lived up to his word and took care of his family

He was a provider, set to take over as CEO for his fathers company

He was business savvy, he was able to grow the company within months of being in charge

You should be happy. He buys you whatever you want, provided a wonderful, dream home for you to raise your children in.

Others would kill for the comfortable, luxurious life you live.

But if your precious son wasn’t in the picture, you’d do anything to go back to living in your trailer house with your distant mother.

Because everyday, you dread putting up with Eren.

After you blurted that the child may not be his… it was honestly the dumbest thing you could do

In your mind, there was no doubt that eren was the father. But you said it, naively thinking he would back off.

If anything, it made him more mad.

It earned you a hard slap across the face right there in the car

He wanted to do more (lord only knows what he would’ve done to you if you were not pregnant with his child)

But he never forgot about it

Because three weeks after giving birth, the doctor cleared you

The following days were hell on earth

You had pumped milk, (refrigerated them for later use thinking it’ll save you in the future), but it backfired in your face

Because it allowed your son to go to your in laws over the weekend

You didn’t realize what he was plotting until it was too late

He came home from work, put his brief case down and immediately went on baby duty.

It gave you time to shower and unwind for a moment

As you made your way downstairs, you’re surprised to see your in laws cooing over your son

It was only then they informed you that they were here to pick him up for a sleepover at their house

Carla made it sound like she wanted you to have a relaxing night, to rest and recharge your mind and body.

But her son had different plans

Because the moment they left, Eren’s attitude took a 180 and he was onto you

His expression changed from soft to stern in a blink of an eye, and before you know it, you’re being dragged upstairs

You’re panicking because you know that face

So you try to reason with him,

“Eren, what’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

You voice comes out more shaky than you’d like but it didn’t matter

Because he’s fucking relentless

He’s pushing you on the bed, tearing your pyjamas off and you fight back

The doctor cleared you a day ago, you were absolutely not ready for this

But you were silly to think Eren gave a fuck

In his eyes, you’re his property now

If it weren’t for him, god only knows where you would be today

Probably stuck in your mother’s pathetic excuse of a home, working at the diner, getting catcalled daily and flashing your tits for tips

In Eren’s head, he was your motherfucking saviour

And it was about time you showed him some appreciation

“Eren, please, I don’t-”

A hard slap lands on your cheek, turning your face to the side

“I don’t care about what you want, I’m going to take what I want, understood?”

You were crying, choking on sobs as he tied your wrist to the bed frame

You felt defeated

Eren didn’t bother to ease into you either

He had you naked and bound on the bed (a sight he’ll never get tired of) and he watched you cry and squirm as he pushed in

He went straight into fucking you hard and all you could do is cry for mercy

Your legs on his shoulders, but he’s pushing your thighs into your stomach so he can fuck you harder

The room filled with the sounds of the bed creaking, skin slapping and your muffled sobs

And Eren was getting tired of hearing your fucking cries

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll gag you. I swear to fucking god, you don’t wanna push me there.” He growls, nails purposely digging harder into your thighs.

You try to shut yourself up but Eren’s pace is too rough, it was impossible to keep quite

This was a game Eren liked to play. He loved the control he had over you, how scared you are of him. How you’re desperately trying to shut yourself up because you’re afraid of what kind of punishment he’ll put you through next.

He knew he was asking for the impossible. He just liked seeing cry in panic because of him.

Dusk turned to dawn, you’re still tied, but this time, laying on your stomach

Eren’s stamina was no match for yours—you passed out throughout the night, only to wake up in a different position, still getting fucked stupid

Your eyes felt so so heavy from all the crying and lack of sleep. Your body was covered in marks, and it ached everywhere.

The next time you woke up, the abuse had finally stopped. Eren was fast asleep next to you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, your head tucked beneath his chin.

And all you could do is cry and shake

Your arms hurt, your neck hurt, your face stung, the lower half of your body screamed if you moved an inch

You sobbed into his chest, waking him up.

Eren didn’t say anything, just tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer and letting you cry

The sooner you got used to this, the better

[multiheadcanons]

FUNNY NUMBERS; DOUBLE DUTCH

i did it again. enjoy! 😉

scout: scout’s a virgin, and that’s on purpose… so he says. the truth is if literally anyone asked him to drop trowel and stick it in them he absolutely would no question no thought. actually, that’s wrong. he would have many thoughts. so many thoughts, in fact, that he would say “no thanks” and simply walk away. he won’t do it in public. he won’t do it if he thinks there’s a chance anyone could catch him. he won’t do it in the car. he won’t do it during the day. he won’t do it if he has other responsibilities he can take care of— as a matter of fact it’s one of the best ways to get him to handle responsibilities he has been actively putting off. he won’t do it if he feels weird, or off, or exposed, or anxious, or angry, or sad, or hungry, or avoidant, or too needy… the list goes on. it is difficult to catch scout in a moment of sexual tension to urge him to have sex with anyone because he’s overthinking it. it’s like erectile dysfunction but it’s all in his head. he can turn himself off faster than anyone else could possibly. to get in bed with scout is a multi to the nth degree step process. including a minimum of ten dates and at least two emotional breakdowns. and that’s not to say he won’t try multiple times before you get the first success. he just can’t. he will choke. and it is embarrassing. and if you say anything about it, he will never speak to you again. it’s not even something you can spare a chuckle at because it is just so embarrassing to him. but once he succeeds… what a guy. he’ll bust disappointingly quickly the first few times. usually inside of you. but he’ll find a stride. long, slow strokes. often breaks to eat you out, or finger you, anything he can do to prolong himself he will do it. he’ll even get a cock ring. his face gets so red from the focus of not busting immediately, he’s switching between holding his breath and hyperventilating. remind him to breathe like a normal person, please. he says he’s willing to try anything, but experimenting is only something he’s willing to do occasionally. he’s not denying you because he doesn’t want to do it, he’s denying you because he doesn’t want to do it right now. also, get him a condom, or get on birth control. he hates pulling out. he will make a point to not pull out. he doesn’t want to see anything but a homemade boston cream pie. he’ll cry if he has to pull out. but he cries when he enters you, too. just a couple of tears. he’s not sobbing but he won’t deny it’s euphoric. he’s just a crier in general during sex, sue him. it feels good. it feels great, as a matter of fact. why get upset with him because you feel that good? if there’s an established long term relationship, he may, hesitantly, bring up the idea of bottoming. don’t get too excited or you’ll freak him out and he’ll take it back. he’s cute as a bottom. a lot of cussing, a lot more tears. he might only let you get one pump in before he tells you to get out of him. but trust, he enjoyed it. he just needs a minute to adjust to it. he will go silent when he cums. he will take a sharp inhale, stiffen, and then collapse. bad aftercare at first. he will just straight up fall asleep, still buried inside of you, and if he bottoms he’s absolutely just passing out post climax. if you don’t care, he won’t change. but if you let him know that you need a little more than that when you two are done, he’ll put forth the effort to make it good for you too. just might take him a minute to pull himself out of you. if he doesn’t get hard again. but once you are sufficiently cared for, he is going straight to bed. won’t wake up until his alarm clock goes off. he might, might miss a meal to have sex. but he is only missing one meal like… a month to do that. and honestly, once he gets used to sex and its inner machinations it very quickly tanks in the list of scout’s priorities. he actually doesn’t really care about sex that much. he cares about the closeness he has with his partner, closeness and intimacy which can be garnered other ways. but he’s not gonna say he doesn’t enjoy blowing fat loads in you either.

soldier: if you meet this man anywhere near a crawlspace you’re leaving with a creampie, and if that’s not what you want, maybe stay out of his sights and go the other way. keep an eye and a keen knowledge of whatever field you may be on, because soldier is acutely aware of every small, cramped, mostly private space; and that’s where he’s headed if he is not caught in the heat of battle. if you even say hi to him, he’s assuming that’s what you want. frankly, both teams are fully aware that the blu soldier is getting his… “needs met” on the field. and it’s funny, to them, to take guesses as to whether or not he’s got a partner (or partners) joining him in his more… vulnerable moments. but everyone is tight lipped about it. so nobody on either team knows who’s been the lucky one (or few) to join him except soldier himself, and the lucky recipient(s). the teams are so aware, in fact, that they even give him the grace of privacy. nobody wants to kill a man with their dick out. that’s not fair or fun for anyone involved. and honestly, when he returns he is never disheveled any more than he seems to be when he is battling normally. which begs the question to the team if he’s actually doing anything other than taking a break or if he’s always been doing this. it is the latter, there are people on those teams walking around with either condoms in their pockets exclusively for jane doe or a creampie. soldier is a man of efficiency. he really has no clue or interest if his partners are getting off unless they’re men, and when he’s done, he’s done. maybe if he really likes you he’ll make sure you are cleaned up enough to be presentable, he might even give you a kiss, but he’s not staying any longer than he has to. and he’s vicious. there is enough foreplay to get you going and that is it. he’s going at the pace that feels good to him and that is it. sometimes, if you’re lucky, it’s a good pace for you, too. but i really hope you don’t want that every time because most likely you will not get it again. gets a little confused if you offer to suck him off. not “where does my dick go” confused, but “why would you want to do that” confused. soldier will never have sex on the grounds of the base, so having sex with him in general is somewhere where he doesn’t have access to a shower, making it dirty, nasty, occasionally bloody… he fucking reeks. and you want to put your mouth on that? put your nose all up in his pubes? but he supposes he can’t say no. he will let you do what you want if you’re direct in your request for sex and he likes you enough. but he won’t ask you himself unless he really likes you. really, he’s never propositioned anyone to join in on his escapades. he just realized he was fighting with a boner most of the time, and would quickly excuse himself to take care of it. then people just started… meeting him there. and if they propositioned, or took over whatever he was doing, then he assumes they wanted to have sex. the same way he never told anyone to not tell. if they wanted to air out that business to the teams he didn’t care, as long as it didn’t get to the higher ups. his partners decided to keep their silence. curses and grunts when he’s getting close, and i have to reiterate he’s not pulling out. if anything he’s driving himself in deeper. as far as he possibly can. normally will have his partners face down in the dirt anyway, holding their hips up just high enough to get the angle he wants, and draped over them otherwise. he doesn’t think anything of it, but his partners do. it’s touching. he’s shielding them from view. taking the fall of being the freak. he is genuinely just trying to bust his nut and go about his business. don’t talk to him while he’s fucking you, either. don’t make any noise, in fact. he’ll tell you to shut up. and if you can’t, he’s going to cut off your air supply until he’s done. he won’t kill you, but you might pass out depending on how long you’ve been going at it. if he’s fucking a member of the red team he’ll kill them so they have an excuse for being MIA, if they express concern.

pyro: pil. low. fuck. er. pyro goes through like… a pillow a week grinding against them until they’re limp and sad, they’re not even getting used for bed. the team does not question why they are ordering obscene amounts of pillows, they just buy the pillows. it’s not weird as long as they’re not specifying the pillows they want. maybe they just like having a bunch of fluffy, clean pillows. that’s fair, and the team can delude themselves into thinking that it’s even remotely correct and even improve their opinion of pyro at the same time. they are a desperate humper of anything and one that will not deny them. if you actually say “yes, please god pyro fuck me put it right here” it’s just a cherry on top. when they are desperate they make it known, to everyone. but it always starts so innocent. gentle back pats here, an innocent offer of their gloves hand to hold, the team doesn’t mind that too much. it lets them know pyro’s feeling good, enjoying their company, they appreciate it, even, from pyro! but then they turn into lingering touches, that then sink lower. the team will shut it down at that point unless pyro absolutely begs for them to acquiesce. and sometimes they do! because pyro will beg. on their knees, mask pressing into their shoes, so forceful with it you can make out every letter through the mask. “please. please please pleasepleaseplease—” it’s honestly too cute. like a dog begging for something to do. unfortunately pyro has cruel masters. and the team will almost always redirect pyro’s need elsewhere. so the pillow has become their main lover, though they are constantly thinking about what it could feel like to be touched by someone else. they have explored their body as much as they’re willing to, they have found what they enjoy and what they’ve hate; and they’re ready to share that with others. pyro is a strong contender as one of the nicest lovers on the blu team. they will make sure you are not only thoroughly satisfied, but that you are well cared for afterwards as well. they will listen to you if you tell them to do something, they will do it without complaint. they do not care as long as you touch them back, and don’t ask them to take off the mask. say whatever you want. call them whatever you want. stomp directly on their chest until you hear the bones crack, just touch them. and hopefully you’ll get naked and they can look at you. and touch you back. pyro is very gentle, and you would do best to not sway them any other direction. let them be soft to you, you don’t owe them anything if they want to be soft. but there is a price to asking pyro to play rough. pyro doesn’t play rough very well. they don’t know when enough is enough. they don’t know when the tears are good or bad, and if you allow them to be mean to you they will take it further than either of you expected it to be taken. it is simply not worth the risk. let them play nice. they are more than satisfied with that. they really don’t want anything more than to touch someone and be touched by someone. eerily silent, aside from heaving breaths and ragged pants past the filter. it’s hard to even know if they came or not, or if they really just wanted the view and didn’t care otherwise what happened from there. but either way, it’s pretty cute. if you wanted to you could make them roll over. you could make them kill someone and they’d do it if they thought they would get a night with you. they’d do it and return faithfully to your side. pyro is eternally on the quest to fulfill everyone’s love bar until everyone is willing to touch them. and they used to feel like there was just too many people in the world to really make headway with anyone. but when the world is pared down to only a select few, it’s not nearly as hard, it seems, to do enough for someone to get so much as an ass squeeze. they mean, seriously, who’s balls or titties do they have to suck to get a smack on the ass every once in a while? a gentle caress, they’ll even take a kiss blown their way, can someone please give pyro the chance to appreciate a body other than their own?

demo: a professional whore. demo will not have sex drunk. he will touch you exclusively when he's sober. he wants to remember exactly what he's doing, he wants to remember every gasp, every twitch, every sigh, the good, the bad, and the loud; he needs to remember all of it so he knows what to do next time. he is striving for perfection come your third interaction with each other. so if you want him to make love to you, or fuck you, let him know so he can emotionally prepare to be sober for the day. he won't even sneak a single drop of liquor as he waits. and he's incredibly twitchy while he waits for what he knows is going to be the best time of his life. so he's twitchy, as he usually is sober, but he's also invigorated. ready to move. keeping his mind occupied as he counts the seconds. if he could, he would force the time to move faster. he can't wait to experience you in your entirety. demo's driving force, much like his counterpart's easy going manner, lends itself heavily to sex. a word you could describe for it is 'excited', but the most realistic word to use is "motivated". you will come to him and he is immediately stripping. tell him what you want, he is happy to get started. and he'll do anything. anything you want, you just tell him so he can begin. even the super freaky shit. he will suck the polish off your toes. he will fist you. he will go proposition the other teammates and run a train on you. he'll watch someone else fuck you, even though he might get a little jealous. he probably won't allow that to happen for long before he decides he's going to join in. he'll invite someone to watch him fuck you, which he is much more excited to do. he will suspend you from the ceiling and slowly lower you down onto his cock like a sexy saw trap. he will shove his dick so far down your throat that you vomit. he will sit on a cake and eat it off his own ass. he'll hold a gun to your head and ask you, firmly, to get on your knees. he'll stick an entire tree up his urethra if you tell him that will get you off. he will never say no to you. do you want to fuck him? he is prepared and ready for you. he will bend over so fast and spread his legs so wide. do you want to watch him fuck himself? do you want to watch someone fuck him? he'll do that too! and while he will never complain about whatever you want to do, if you were to ask him personally what he wants, he will blank. he knows a lot of what he doesn't like to do, but he doesn't really focus on exactly what he likes! he likes being inside of any orifice you offer him, and that's about it. he'll never say no, but every sexual experiment leaves him at a net neutral. he's just happy to be fucking something that isn't his hand. he doesn't have jewelry in his prince albert currently, so when you both find out there's a second hole in his dick, that will be an experience for both of you. kind enough to pull out, unless you explicitly ask him to cum inside of you; and if you do he's going to ask you to repeat yourself. not to be smug about it, but he just wants to double check that's what you want. god tier aftercare. what do you need? a towel? a snack? something to drink? and he will check, double check, and triple check if you want another round. because if you're done, he's getting a drink. he may not drink himself into a stupor, but those first few gulps... almost better than sex. that relaxes him enough to come tend to you, and hold you, and give you the comfort he's unable to in the heat of sex and sobriety. he can be an absolute sweetheart once he's got some liquor in him. but he will never fuck you drunk. it is the only time he will deny you. he just doesn't have the heart for it. he doesn't want to touch you and not remember what he did the next day. he doesn't want to forget how you ask for him. he clings to those moments. it's his life preserver in the sea of liquor. it reminds him there's a reason to not drink so often. he can be the man he wants to be when he's sober. maybe only exclusively in the bed, but if that's the man he wants to be... then what. a. man.

heavy: to fuck this man there is a question you have to ask yourself: can you match his utter freak? mikhail isn’t described as a sweet, kind, or caring man on his best day, and he will never be described that way if he has anything to say about it. his easygoing, relaxed demeanor is a facade. it is the nectar in the pitcher plant that is this man. you will die interacting with him. but you will die at the top of mount everest. you will genuinely think this man at least likes you the first time he propositions you for sex. and he doesn’t. he’s not gentle. and he’s not attentive. he was looking for the quickest way to get a nut and you provided that for him. it’s fine enough. if you beg for something he may give it to you. he probably won’t. it’s fast. he gets what he needs. he ignores you for the rest of the day. the cracks begin to form in him if you come back for more. if you start demanding actual pleasure. something in him is almost forced to comply. and he’s not happy. he’s not happy that he’s compelled to drop to his knees at your mere command of it. it’s embarrassing looking up at you, but he is waiting patiently to be told what you want him to do. you’re so soft, and you’re so warm, and it hits him that he is so cold. you are a lovely reminder that he loves to eat. there’s something about your noises. your taste. and then his eyes flick up at you… and it’s not so bad to be on his knees, watching you squirm above him. and it compels him to be gentler as he slides into you. if you’re really enjoying it, he might even kiss you. hesitantly, nervously, almost. he won’t pull away until he cums. in the clarity, he hates you. he doesn’t want to speak to you, look at you, be around you, he’s ashamed to even think that he submitted for you. and you’re everywhere in his mind. he gets flustered, almost angry if you’re actually in his presence. he finds anywhere else to be. he fears he might actually appreciate your presence. at that point, put a collar on your new dog and keep him on a short leash. most anything you want can be done with a firm command, and he will obey. but when you’re done using him, he will beg you to leave him alone. he will plead that you leave him be so he can fix his mind. all i can tell you is don’t. he actually doesn’t want you to. if you do, he can convince himself he was overcome by carnal desire. but he won’t stop avoiding you, or acting like he hates you either. so tighten your hold on him. demand his presence daily. watch as he grits his teeth and follows. watch him crumble as you undress for him (his mind shuts down. he can’t stop thinking about how good you look with nothing on.). watch a man gain an addiction to giving oral. listen to a grown man call your name in hushed, broken gasps as you slowly lower yourself onto him. feel his hands grab at you, grip tightening to the point of sprained bones. watch a man gain an addiction to you. there comes a point where you don’t have to ask him for anything. he will memorize the times you call for him and wait for you. he’s had so much experience with you he knows exactly what you’ll ask for, and he waits to see what you want first. any request is met with immediate action. he’s obsessed. and he will flush red if you mention it. he leans into your touch, and it’s the first time past his mouth you feel heat emanating from him. he refuses pleasure unless you insist. and he hates you. he reminds you every time you’re done that he hates you. it’s hard to believe that when he’s sitting on the floor, looking up at you, face covered in your fluids. just let him hate you. don’t tell him you love him. you will break him. he can’t contain his rage if you tell him that. he doesn’t want to be loved. he wanted to be left alone. he wanted to fuck and be left alone from there. he didn’t want to get this attached. he didn’t want to like you. but he does. and he doesn’t know any other way to show it except to follow you dutifully to a bedroom and slowly sink to his knees, waiting for the best meal he’ll have the pleasure to eat. bon appetit to him.

engineer: oral connoisseur, vehicle sex aficionado. you can suck this man off anytime you want. do not ask for confirmation, you tell him you want to suck him off and the overalls are coming off. no questions no qualms no statements no problems. thankful and gracious for all sexual encounters. loves some road head. he'll hit a pothole to hear you choke. one hand on the wheel, the other on the back of your head. you don't get to get up until you reach your destination or he cums. and don't think he won't reciprocate! he is more than happy to lean over if you're in the driver's seat. something about the idea of oral in the car just gets him going. he can't even describe it. much more of an exhibitionist and voyeur than he would like to admit, and he's not willing to connect the dots of that and his tendency to fuck in cars. but if he walks into something he shouldn't have... it might take him a little while to find the door again, if you catch his drift. though he won't want to join in. the idea of a threesome or anything more than a two-person job makes him a little queasy. he's just not sure how anyone could keep up when there's that many people. he almost feels bad for the porn stars who are on the receiving end of a train, because he just can't imagine. but that's not gonna stop him from staring. dell would probably have a fun time at a kink or fetish party. he will respectfully ask to be an extra set of eyes, and will never attempt to go further than that. he'll even refuse if he's propositioned. he makes a very good aftercare partner, usually the one who has the most energy to get towels and drinks for everyone else involved. engie is also a top contender for one of the nicest lovers on the team, and other than his tendency to stare and be stared at, is quite vanilla in comparison to his counterpart. he will normally pick one partner, and if that spot is filled he is not looking for replacements. and his libido is not raging. now, he's not a priest or a monk or anything like that, he just doesn't have the energy, time or want to put sex high up on his list of priorities when he needs to get paid... and he lives at his job. literally. since moving his workshop off the main building, getting his rocks off has become infinitely easier. no members of the team really know exactly where the workshop is, so they have to contact him first to get a location to arrive. which has made his sex life flourish! nobody comes to his little den unless he invites them. and because it's disconnected from the base, you can be as loud as you want! he won't quiet you down. he himself is not loud, but he is vocal. just likes to talk, and will actually talk about anything during sex. his plans for the week, your plans for the week, a meal he had a week ago that he's considering trying to recreate... his mind wanders unless you're keeping him there. so talk to him! you can indulge him in his own silly musings, or you can ask him how you feel. what you taste like. if he's having a good time. that will generally let him know it's time to lock in and get some answers for you. and he's happy to do so. quite a slow lover. prefers to show you a long time, with generous bouts of foreplay. he will cum anywhere, you just tell him where you want it. happy to paint your face, happy to fill your mouth, more than happy to cum inside of you, condom or no condom, and he'll never deny a nice backshot. he will normally have towels and water on hand for aftercare, and he likes to take the time to hold you. caress you gently for a while before he sends you on your way. he doesn't like to sleep in his workshop. but, if he's still got some energy left in him, and he's feeling a little adventurous, he might invite you back to his room. it depends how lively the base is. the greater the chance he has to sneak you in the more excited he is to try it. if there's a chance he might not even make it to his room, he's happy to put you in a closet and tell you to stay put. he'll come grab you if the coast is mostly clear. or he can have you there, if you'd prefer that.

medic: oohhh, doctor!! stay away from this man because i want him. call the police immediately so i may go post his bail. and don’t fuck this guy. having sexual relations with the blue donned doctor is like getting on your knees and begging the devil to bring a spark back into your life. while he is (allegedly) unassuming and uninterested in sex half the time, if you proposition him you will never be free from the man. one of the few good things about him is that he will absolutely drop everything to tend to you instead. subjects will be left on the table, paperwork left unfinished, if not simply thrown away, if he doesn’t fuck you on the desk and ruin them regardless. he won’t care who walks in, if anything it may be more beneficial to you to have a third party watching, because the medic is mean. and he’ll trick you into thinking you’re getting just a good love session… no. you’re getting fucked. you get maybe a solid thirty minutes of him being so disgustingly sweet to you, mumbling almost incoherently into your skin of how he will care for you, he will love you, he could love you and maybe then you could truly be worth something to the world because he loves you, now. and he can make something useful of you. and if you fall for it, his smile is absolutely precious. soft, kind, almost apprehensive. focused fingers drawing circles and running down your skin in lines as he maneuvers you where he wants you. he loves being able to keep your entire body in his line of sight, from every hair on your head to your toes. the foreplay is lovely! it’s everything that comes after that which will utterly ruin the phenomenal ground work he just laid. the slowest thrust is the one where he enters you. the moment he has been fully sheathed inside of you, he’ll lean over into your ear, and ask you once to be his good little toy. and he’s going to just piston into you. he is actively aiming to put his dick in your stomach acid with every thrust. and he's just cruel. he's snarling in your ear as he thrusts, commanding that you take it. take every inch of him. take every thrust. cry for him. tell him how much you love it; how much you love him. and don't stop telling him how much you need him. and even if you obey him, and you do everything he could possibly ask, he will never be kind to you in return as long as he is inside of you. you will not hear those soft words he roped you in with. you are a whore, you are a sick, sad little slut who's so dick-obsessed that you'll say anything you need to to get what you want. you poor, desperate little thing. he's happy to tend to you, though. who else would possibly bother with you? and you have to beg him to not cum inside you. make it sound like it's a better idea for him to cum elsewhere. it's an easier task to convince him to give you a facial. he's happy to paint your face white. and none of this is to say that he is an entirely indomitable man. there are times where you could, hypothetically, turn the tables on him. but it is a fight. he will fight you. he will hit you. battling the doctor one on one isn't an easy task by any means. and if you can't overpower him, he will taunt you as he hold your arms at uncomfortable angles behind your back and slides inside you. but if you can get him on his back, or on his knees, he'll let you take the win. out of breath, probably bloody— he has the most cowardly smile on his face. tell him what you want him to do. he'll listen. he'll even respect it enough that he won't try anything to get the upper hand on you, this time. he certainly won't let you win again for the forseeable future, but he'll certainly enjoy being told what to do for the moment. stupidly obedient when forced into a submissive role, the second you get this doctor's ego in check every request, suggestion, command is met with an immediate correction, and the profuse thanking that you would even give him the opportunity to please you. please let him cum inside you. or at all? a small orgasm for the doctor? he’s been good, promise. don’t trust him. let him suffer. make him beg for it.

sniper: hands down the best friends with benefits you could possibly ever have. snipes is the most easygoing guy on the team. and should be exclusively approached for casual sex. this is not a guy to fall in love with. snipes is the guy you take to the shitty dive bar and fuck in the car and if you've got time maybe you'll both go to the ihop and have a fascinating conversation about whether extraterrestrials exist, and then you're not gonna hear from him again until he wants to fuck again. and it is hard to not garner some form of feelings for the guy, because he is a hell of a conversationalist. before and after, he is a muse, a jester, and a philosopher all at once. it's not that you play mind games with each other, per se, but you build an entirely new reality that you are the sole occupier of. he is not there with you. you are a good time and a fun conversation. a nice way to spend a day off. and those are few and far between unless he's slacking off. unlike his counterpart, this snipes keeps a very clear line between his job and his personal enjoyment. you will not be contacted unless he's got an off day coming up. your attempts to contact him will be ignored. though, sometimes, you can catch him out and about in town. it's very rare, but there's only two guys in the entirety of teufort who wear that god awful hat, and one of them exclusively wears red. so it's pretty easy to confirm who you're looking at from a distance. that is, if he hasn't spotted you first and turned tail. but, if you manage to catch him, depending on the length of his roster (which is never particularly long) and whether you're one of his favorites he might be willing to appease you for the moment. but then he'll have to tell you to not go out of your way to locate him again. granted, this is a pretty easy command to hear and promise to follow when he's teasing you with the world's best (or worst, depending on how you feel about being teased) game of just the tip. and while he slowly pushes in and out of you, he'll make some... unnecessary confessions to you. one of those being that he kills people for a living. and following him is not a smart thing to do. and you don't want to be on the wrong end of the wrong rifle, do you? he hasn't forgotten about you, he just can't be there all the time for you. but he'll help you out this once while he's on the clock, and he'll try to keep you more updated. this is a lie, by the way. he isn't going to reach out any more than he was prior, which was never. but, on his next off day, he'll give you some special treatment. he rarely likes being the sole object of your affections. he doesn't like anyone being overly invested in his business. it's why he excels at fantastical conversations. conversations where he doesn't have to give any actual information about himself is where he feels most comfortable. it's where he's most charming! it's where he finds the most beauty in the human nature around him! it's when he can get swept away in the fantasies of a utopian society, and not the one where he kills people every day. if he wasn't working, he would certainly have his way with a new partner everyday. he would love to be a hedonist! but neither he, his lifestyle, nor his brain were actually built to be that guy. he's actually never had enough pussy, ass or otherwise thrown his way to even see if he could walk that walk. but dammit... if he doesn't want to try. he has a fantasy of having a harem, of different people and different types, and maybe they can fuck each other too so sometimes he can just be left alone. solid contender for the third nicest lover on the team. thoroughly engaging, if not marginally cruel, snipes is good for an expulsion of energy that keeps coming back. he's the one to go to when you thought you just needed one round, but when you're done you realize that it just wasn't enough. he can go toe to toe until he's back on the clock. pulls out, he has no interest in fatherhood or paying child support, and he doesn’t trust any partner to not baby trap him. keeps condoms in his pocket.

spy: spy wouldn’t fuck pyro with a gun pointed at his temple. pull the trigger, he dares you. sex is a tool spy knows how to use, with much less enjoyment from it gleaned than his counterpart. however, doesn’t mean he’s no good at it. he just prefers it when it’s not used for business. spy is a disgusting, hopeless romantic. he really isn’t invested in the sex unless he loves you. not just like, he has to love you. otherwise he’s not cumming. and getting spy’s love is hard. it is a herculean task that nobody has surmounted. you have got to be phenomenal in the sack to get anything past boredom from the frenchman in a one night stand. whether he’s bottoming or topping. he generally looks uninterested. he’s bored to death, and normally attempting to reach his cigarettes. and he doesn’t truly mean to sound so cruel, but when he asks you “are you done?” you may as well be, or the dejected sigh he lets out as he continues will make you want to stop entirely. and he makes heavy eye contact. so he’s staring you directly in your eyeballs with a scathing look of disappointment and boredom. at that point get off of him. he will probably never contact you again. being a sexual partner with spy without emotion attached is best for quickies, preferably five minutes or less so he can leave and let you feel stupid alone in the post nut clarity. supernaturally attracted to glory holes, but he likes to look through them first. it’s almost like a peephole to another world. he got caught once and now he cloaks to keep up this little habit of his. it does not deter him. all of this to say, spy is not selective with sex. he’s selective with love. and with his love comes the true sexual prowess this man wields in his cigarette smoke riddled body. anything you may want to do, want him to do, want to do to him is on the table. he loves it all, if you’re suggesting it. and he’ll do it with the dopiest smile on his face. not a smirk, not a tight pulling of the lips, a full teethed smile. that’s how you know he’s in that mood. because he looks at you and can’t help this shit eating smile on his face. a smile that says he’s plotting something and it’s gonna be good when it comes to fruition. his favorite position to take you in is missionary. is it boring? sure, but it’s low effort and everything he wishes to touch, kiss, and stare at is in easy access. and he can look down and watch himself enter and exit you, which strokes his ego. he can’t help but to laugh during sex. he just feels… victorious. it’s a prized possession, to have you in his bed. to have your ankles over his shoulder. to hear you whimper, and gasp, and grab at him. he almost gets high off of it. and however loud you want to get, he is happy to match you. he’s more likely to bite into your skin to silence himself, but if you’re howling… what does he look like trying to be quiet? sex is a two man job. and you’re making him feel just as good as he’s making you feel. pulls out, he is paranoid about pregnancy and he's not even the one getting pregnant. he will usually book a hotel room if he’s expecting “company”; he doesn’t want to deal with the team’s jeers. and it gives you a sense of class. you deserve better than a dark room in a building with seven other men (and pyro). you deserve a soft bed. dimmable lighting. clean sheets. but also if you wanted him shitfaced in an alleyway he’d have you there, too. if you want him to pluck you off of a street and drive off without another word, and you just come up missing from the world for a few days or weeks, he’s happy to do that for you, too. and he just can't wipe the smile from his face when he catches sight of you. anything you ask that he can accomplish, he is happy to do. he just wants to make love to you, however you want him to showcase his love to you. he's not very good at being mean, or firm, because he just can't remove the smile from his face. even as he has you bent over and his fingers in you up to his knuckles. even as he ties you up. that smile just shines. if you're having a good time, he's having a lovely time.

[littlechaoscosplay]

More than enough

SolasXLavellan

Rated (T).

He found it a bit strange that his love is sleeping in just a tad later than normal

Solas sat the cup next to her plate filling it close to the brim of the warm beverage, knowing full well she is not a morning person and looking at the time he had a feeling she might need the extra pick me up.

However as he awaited to hear her foot steps that would slowly make their way through the room, it didn’t come. It was strange but not worrying he did warn how the lighthouse could effect someone’s inner time clock due to its nature.

But as time passed and the steam from her cup died; it was then something did not feel right and he headed straight to her room.

As he walked he kept his composure; rationalizing that she must have stayed up later after he had fallen asleep; that or her mind is elsewhere and had simply lost track of the time.

He stopped at the door and gave it a few gentle knocks; no answer.

He knocked once more, silence.

He swallowed back the anxiousness as he slowly opened the door, just to peak to ease his thoughts. He looked to see her still in bed; and could see the gentle rise and fall of her breaths, he chuckled to himself feeling a bit foolish but before he could close the door, “…Wha.”

He paused, “A-apologize vhenan…you have slept in quite a bit.”

In the darkness with just the small stream of light bleeding in he could see her sit up, wiping her eyes before looking to him, “Oh…I’m-” She wiped her eyes again, “I’m sorry, I’ll be right there.”

A simple answer but it felt…off.

Perhaps lingering worry was still itching in the back of his mind that he could not leave. “Are you sure you are alright…?” He asked quietly.

She turned away from him as if she was searching for something, “Yes, I’m fine.” She answered.

He frowned, and made his way into the room. That tone of voice he knew, a tone that was used in front of companions , the tone used to ease the worry of the masses. He took a seat next to her making her jump at the feeling of the bed dipping slightly.

“My love” He started carefully, “Please look at me.”

She kept her gaze from him, “I will be only a minute.” She assured in that unchanging happy tone.

“Inquisitor.”

He could see her freeze tilting her head confused, “Why are you calling me-“ she stopped when she almost looked at him.

“Because the Inquisitor tends to put on a very convincing act when she is trying to conceal her true self.”

“Not unlike someone I know?” She joked.

He chuckled, “Yes…and dare I say I pride myself in knowing when someone is lying to me.”

She let out a small breathy laugh, “…I’m just tired is all, I’m sorry I worried you.”

He felt a pit in his stomach, the sense of uneasiness still there but not wanting to pry made it unbearable, “I could bring something to eat here?” He then offered.

“Honestly, I’m not very hungry at the moment.”

He nodded, but wasn’t sure if she noticed as she was still looking away from him, “How about a beverage at least? Something hot, may-haps?”

“That…would be nic-” She then shook her head, “Actually no, it’s alright.”

“Would you like to lay down a bit longer, I can wake you later?”

“I think I might;yes...”

It was a silent acknowledgment as he got up, looking back to see her slither under the covers before closing the door. It was still there as he walked the halls down into the small courtyard. The worry, along with an almost helplessness.

Back in the days of the Inquisition he knew the brave face she would display but the natural anxiety that came with sudden leadership never left her bed ridden, at most caused her to be a tad exhausted or needing a small moment to herself to collect her thoughts.

He remembered watching her closely in the beginning more so to make sure the anchor that once marked her hand would not outright kill her, But then saw the stress of it all forming and how it effected her and would offer little comfort he could give in those moments, it was at first selfish acts of kindness to make sure she was able to continue the duty to right his mistake but as they got to know one another…

He cursed himself everyday since for damning such a kind soul to such a cruel fate.

And now he is finding that he has done so again, even though she consented to being with him, even though he warned her…no, he should have done more, he managed to push her away twice but in that moment his selfishness took over. The moment a prideful; cowardice man could not bear the thought of being alone, even though he deserved to be…

She must be suffering yet again because of him, the lighthouse does offer its comforts but he is still bound to the fade and the crossroads, he cannot journey the waking world however she is not, She can still leave. She should not be burden with any more of his wrongs.

He turned heel and went back to her room, he must do this now, before he finds himself unable.

He reached for the handle and announced his presence as he slowly opened the door, only to be welcomed by a darken room, she was still sleeping and he felt a pang of regret as he approached to wake her.

He took a breath before lighting one of the lanterns near the bedside, but as the soft glow illuminated the room it did not seem to bother her, she laid peacefully.

He leaned in but lost his courage to speak and instead gently brushed the loose strands of hair from her face it was then he noticed the deep shadows under her eyes, his voice was still lost in his throat as he carefully pressed his hand to her forehead, a small relief that she did not have a fever. His hand then instinctively moved to stroke her hair softly, he had to hold in a laugh as she moved her head into his touch further.

But stopped as her eyes fluttered open, “S-solas?” She said her voice slightly hoarse.

“I am here.” He answered; finally finding his voice, “How are you feeling?”

“Better…” She said as she sat up.

He pressed his lips together in a thin line, he knew this was for the best, “M-may I speak candidly?”

An uneasy smile slowly formed as she spoke, “You may?”

He knelt down beside her, “Vhenan, You being here is the greatest gift I do not deserve, but seeing how my imprisonment is effecting you so…I do not think it’s wise for you to continue being here… being with me.”

Her eyes widened she went to say something but all she did was stare.

He continued, “You have always deserved the best.” He then chuckled as he felt his eyes start to burn, “-and I knew this wasn’t, I should have stopped you…”

Her head slowly shook, as her sleepy demeanor quickly fell at the suddenness of what was being said, “I-I do not understand, I chosen to be here…”

“I know but seeing you so ill because of this, you still have a chance to live a better life.”

She went quiet, pressing her eyes shut, “You are worried because…” She let out a shaky breath in hesitation, ”I am not ill from being here; being with you Solas…it’s because of my own self.”

His eyes narrowed, “Whatever do you mean?”

He patiently watched as she looked for the right words before turning to him almost defeated , “For as long as I can remember I’ve had this…ailment, so-to-speak.” She explained.

“But during the Inquisition…”

“I was better at hiding it.” She said bluntly, “My mind could not hinder me if it was occupied.”

“Your mind?”

She nodded, “Somedays It feels as if my mind and body are separated, my thoughts feel as if they are trying to claw at the inside of my skull while my body lays heavy and just…aches.”

He swallowed down the shock of her words, “That is-“

“Unpleasant? It’s why I didn’t wish to tell you-anyone for that matter and just hoped the feeling would pass on its own as it usually does.”

“But even so….”

She placed a hand on his shoulder as she softly spoke, “You have your own self to worry about, and regardless on how it sounds it’s nothing compare what you face.”

His head lowered, “Instead I’m left with the knowledge that you suffer in silence?”

Her hand slipped from his shoulder and placed it back into her lap, “…You are taking this too seriously, just as I feared.” She muttered.

He frowned before getting up and taking a seat on the bed, “Of course I am…! If I can do anything to ease the pain of the woman I love; I will do everything within my power to do so.”

He was then taken aback when he saw tears begin to form in her eyes that she quickly wiped away with a genuine smile, “Sweet talker.”

“Vhenan…” he pleaded.

She thought a moment, “There is not much you can do, and I’m not speaking as though I do not wish for your help. I just…don’t really know what can besides waiting for it to subside.”

His face dropped, there had to be something, “You said in the Inquisition it did not affect you as terribly aside from the obvious duties was there anything else that kept you at ease?”

She laughed, “Quite frankly “ease” is not the word I would use…it was just dulled. But I see what you’re trying…” she closed her eyes, “I will say…this is nice; being able to talk about it.”

“I am to assume you had not brought it to anyone’s attention after the Inquisition?”

She shook her head, “I didn’t know how…and over the years it wasn’t something that was exactly my main concern.”

He winced, “Ah…”

She gave him a slight nudge, “Now, now don’t pout.” she teased.

“Apologies If not for me you could have-“ he stopped himself then carefully cupped her face, “No, this is not about me, Are you still feeling unwell?”

She leaned into his touch as she did before while she slept and hummed in contentment, “A little but it feels as though it’s settling, Thank you…vhenan, for listening .” She smiled.

He smiled back, “I only wish I could do more.”

She gently pulled from him and settled herself back down before reaching out, he accepted her welcoming embrace and made himself comfortable next to her. She nestled herself against his chest as he wrapped an arm around her bringing her closer.

“…Right now this is more than enough.” She whispered.

[chancedarling]

Chance just shrugs as Darcy mentions a little 'mystery'. -- Mystery-Scourge-Calamity --

Then she goes on to probe a little about what may be written about Chance.

"I'm an open book. I'm sure whoever got a secret about me will be sorely disappointed. I mean, it's not like I'm a saint or anything, but I don't think a few pranks are going to hit the big time on the ticker-tape radar. If someone wants to know something about me, all they have to do is ask, y'know?"

"Nah, I dunno. No clue what it is or who got it."

Oh, but he hopes it's a meaty one. Something to cause a knot in their stomach. Something to dredge a pit of dread into their core. Something to prey on the mind and give sleepless nights... That would be fun. And even though the paper he handed Darcy would certainly be applicable to him - he doubts that it's about him. What would be the point of handing him his own secret - he knows all of those. Plus, it wouldn't be entirely accurate. He's not lying about everything. Most of what he's said is the truth... If only in part. So it'd be really dissappoining if these little snippets of revelation were imprecise or erroneous. Or just plain bullshit.

He's just waiting. Watching... As Darcy takes the paper and studies it. Actually - studies it. Not just a glance or a quick read. Fifteen words. Fifteen words didn't need that amount of focus or mental absorption. She's not studying the paper (if she had been, she'd have turned it over at least once in her hands, and she doesn't), just keeps staring at those fifteen words.

There's an itch in his teeth. A burgeoning suspicion. Nothing concrete yet... But it's only fifteen fucking words.

And when she finally manages to drag her eyes away from the paper, all of that enthusiasm about secrets and mysteries seems to have fizzled out like a firework in a thunderstorm.

Definitely an itch. She speaks and there's even hesitation there. Not the usual hundred mile an hour string of crackpot theories. This secret has her... Confused? No maybe that's not quite the word for it. But something about those fifteen little words seem to have sent the little astronaut spinning into space.

"I think it means what it says. Lying about everything."

She asks if he has any idea who it could be about.

"Nope."

Yes. Well, maybe now he has a hint. Maybe...

Again, he honestly gave a flying fuck who it was about. If it was about Darcy, it might at least make her a little more interesting. He wonders how good a liar she might be. Whether those big does eyes and skittish brain were just another mask - a cultivated charade (not unlike his own - he'd be eminently impressed if it was)... Is that something that ditzy Darcy was capable of? If it was, then what's the motivation? What's the end goal? What's the root of those lies... Is it calculated or compulsive? Deliberate or delusional?

Is she capable?

Next observation... Set the scene - observe the reaction.

"I dunno, Darcy. We might be missing the point here. Whatever these things are - why the hell were they sent? What's the purpose? Do the 'flowpowr' entities just want to piss people off and stir up shit? Seems like everyone is running around, wondering about what secret belongs to who and being morally offended by anything that doesn't conform to their world view and getting mad about it... "

He's giving her an out - something not about the secret itself, but rather a joyous little conspiracy theory that should trigger her simulation brain... He wants to see how fast she grabs onto that lifeline... How quickly does she want to move away from the content of the secret which was 'oh, so important' only moments ago.

Turn the tide. Focus back on the secret again. Which way will she turn? Which directions will she take. Quick and easy conspiracy. Or delve deeper into those fifteen words.

"...But, I suppose... With a secret like that, at some point the secret itself becomes irrelevant. The fact that you kept it does not."

"Any thoughts on whose secret it might be?"

"Okay, going to be honest, part of me just really wants to know who it is about. It's a little mystery, you know?" Darcy admitted, though she also couldn't help but think about those texts from Selin, the woman's secret being so serious. They definitely needed to figure that one out, and knowing whose secrets the others belonged to at least helped eliminate others, which was a comfort.

She smiled, amused, as Chance wondered aloud what his secret might be, and wondered if that was really all he had that could have made it onto the little papers.

"I feel like if you're so willing to talk about those things, that might not be what gets onto the tape about you," she couldn't help but point out, her voice light and teasing. "But who knows, right? Like you said, it doesn't matter that much here if somebody cheated, so those might be what is written about you.

"So that means you don't know what the little things say about you?"

A raised eyebrow at Chance calling his own little tape mysterious. Darcy was just about to ask him if he was going to hold out on him for even longer when he handed over the small, little paper. It looked like the same as what she got, but the text was definitely shorter than hers.

'I am lying about everything, I'm not who I say I am. Who am I?'

Darcy read it once, the text barely registering it was so short.

She read it twice - could that be about her?

Three times, but no, that couldn't be about her. She wasn't lying, it was different. It was--

Four times but no, it was so completely different, not at all lying.

After the fifth time reading it, she looked up at Chance. "This is it? This feels-- I don't know, it can be anything. What does it even mean, lying about everything?"

Looked down and read it for the sixth time. It couldn't possibly be her, she tried to convince herself, cause really, how would anyone know (aside from the fact that all of these little pieces of paper included information that nobody could possibly know unless you saw everything in the simulation, of course, but she was pushing that fact aside in the moment) and really, her heart needed to stop beating so fucking hard out of her chest.

"Do you have any idea who it could be about?"

[theflyingfeeling]

💖 it's here, it's pink, it's sparkly, and full of fluff 💖

Hiiiiii and welcome to witness my attempt at an Olli/Allu Advent Calendar, in which I'll give you ~a cute little something~ about these two idiots in love almost every day until December 24! My plan is to use prompts from this list to either write a fic based on the prompt or just some good ol' delulu thoughts if all else fails. I cannot guarantee there'll be a post literally every day, but I'm really excited to try this out and I thank you for your support along the way in advance 💝

The biggest thanks and a million hugs go to one of my favourite human beings @kraeuterhexchen for making the adorable banner!! I mean helloooooo?? 😭 Go show them some love ❣️

For December 1, the prompt list is titled One True Pairing Moments, and the prompt I chose was 'calling just to hear their voice' 🥺 You can read the fic below, I hope you like it <3

.

PS. Even though this is an advent calendar of sorts, I'm not planning on making this particularly Christmassy. I hope no one minds terribly!

~

Falling for Aleksi had, in a way, sneaked up on Olli, at least if he fooled himself a little. He could pretend he didn’t feel any different about the man than he did about, say, Joonas or Tommi, but that strategy only worked for so long – that is to say, approximately until Aleksi as much as smiled softly at him from across a room or bumped his shoulder into his jovially when walking down the street and Olli would feel his breath getting caught in his throat or stumble in his words, his tongue tangled like shoelaces, which was so unlike him as well and frustrated him to no end. It really took a special kind of fool to not only develop some level of feelings for a friend, a colleague, a bandmate for Christ’s sake, but also become so hopelessly enamored with him that you rolled awake in bed in the dead of night, grabbing your phone and tossing it back on the nightstand again and again because you couldn’t decide whether or not you should, on some erratic 2 o’clock impulse, call him to let him know he was the very reason for your insomnia. 

Turning on his back, Olli groaned (only a little desperately) as he remembered losing himself in the lingering hug they had shared just before the arrivals lobby at the airport, inhaling Aleksi’s scent and wishing they wouldn’t have to go home just yet, even if Olli was more than ready to finally sleep in his own bed again. Ironically, ever since they had returned home from tour, Olli had spent night after sleepless night missing Aleksi terribly: his stupid jokes and playful banter that bordered on being flirtatious if Olli allowed himself the benefit of delusion; his quick, subtle smiles that probably meant nothing; his little touches Olli hoped meant something; his smell and his touch and the softness of his hair at the back of his neck, compared to which the blanket Olli was grasping in his fist was like sandpaper. (How he had come to know of the qualities of Aleksi’s hair in such detail, he preferred not to dwell on too much to save himself from the heartache, so let’s just leave it at ‘stressful, emotional week far away from home’ and ‘a little too much to drink’).

Above all, Olli missed Aleksi’s voice. He hadn’t even thought that was possible, until the other morning when Olli had woken up to a voice message Aleksi had left just hours earlier, rambling about a song idea he had gotten in the middle of the night – something he did from time to time – and Olli had spent the next several minutes replaying it over and over again as he had lied in bed procrastinating getting up and and instead closing his eyes to better imagine Aleksi lying there beside him, turned on his side to face Olli, talking to him sleepily like they often did when they shared a room on tour and were just too lazy to join others at breakfast. Much like the hug at the airport, Olli wished those moments would have lasted way longer than they did, often ending abruptly when either of their phones would go off with Santeri’s name on the screen, a passive-aggressive interruption to the soft, low tone of Aleksi’s early-morning thoughts. (Sometimes, when Olli was lucky enough, he had been blessed with the bliss of feeling the light touch of a fingertip tracing along his collarbone, cut short just as frustratingly by their well-meaning tour manager politely enquiring whether the two of them had plans of dragging themselves downstairs for some toast and coffee, or if they’d rather starve until lunchtime, for which he wasn’t at all sure they’d even have time that day.)

The lovesick idiot that he was, his thumb hovered over the ‘play’ button of Aleksi’s voice message, probably for the millionth time that week. The chest-carving hesitation turned into a heart flip when he noticed Aleksi was online.

Then Aleksi began to type, and Olli held his breath the entire time until a new message appeared in the thread, anticipation holding him by his throat.

You awake?

Olli exhaled and typed his affirmative reply, leaving out the reason why.

He blinked at the screen, waiting for Aleksi to ask him a random question that clearly couldn’t wait until morning, or perhaps talk about something related to another late-night Twitch stream (from what Olli had gathered, Aleksi had been doing a lot of those recently, and with his last remaining braincell Olli had managed to resist the temptation to watch every single one of them, because he knew that if he did, it would only dig his grave of pining and longing deeper, seeing Aleksi smile and giggle about but not being able to do that with him or snuggle up next to him when he was wearing that flannel Olli often used as a blanket in the tour bus). But instead of another text appearing on the screen, Olli’s phone began to vibrate in his hand, and it took him an embarrassingly long while to understand it was because Aleksi was calling him. 

“Hi,” he sighed when he finally collected himself enough to speak. He prayed he’d be able to hear what Aleksi was going to say from the thumping heartbeat echoing in his ears.

“Hi,” a soft voice said. “Sorry, I know it’s late…”

“No, not at all,” Olli hurried to say, “I mean, I wasn’t sleeping. Not even close, actually.” Part of him hoped Aleksi wouldn’t ask about it, but in some foolhardy way the possibility intrigued him. 

Nothing much, he would have likely said anyway, but what would happen if he told Aleksi how it really was? That he squeezed his pillow imagining it was him instead, or wailed into it because something had reminded him of a moment-that-was-probably-not-a-Moment™ they had shared? What would Aleksi say if he knew Olli sometimes touched himself the way Aleksi had touched him That One Night they never talked about? The only obstacle between Olli and that knowledge was a bottomless ocean of cold sweat and cowardice, and Olli had never been a great swimmer.

“So, ummm…,” Olli said when Aleksi’s end stayed silent. “What’s up?”

A short breath of laughter sounded through the phone line.

“Honestly? I don’t know, I… It’s just been a… weird week, I guess.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, like… my head’s just been so full of… everything and… I’ve been so busy and kinda tense and… fuck, this is going to sound crazy,” Aleksi laughed that brief laugh again, although to Olli it didn’t sound particularly cheerful. Tired, more like. Strained, somehow. Not sad, but definitely a little troubled, and Olli intended to find out why.

“I’m all for crazy, you know.” Olli hoped his sorry attempt to lighten Aleksi’s mood would work, and so he smiled in relief when he heard Aleksi chuckle at his comment.

“I know,” Aleksi said softly, in that tone of voice that had Olli melt against his bedsheets. “So yeah, it’s been a rough week, but… in between all that stupid shit, I’ve been thinking a lot about… umm… well, the tour and– and… about you, for some reason,” (the troubled laugh made its return) “and… yeah. That’s sort of helped me a lot recently.”

Olli listened to the words carefully, not fully believing what he was hearing, yet clinging on to them until they were all but swirling around in his otherwise empty head like dry leaves in October wind.

“And tonight I just couldn’t fucking sleep for some reason and nothing I did seemed to help and so I thought I’d call you. And I’m–” If it hadn’t been dead silent otherwise, Olli wouldn’t have heard the shaky breath Aleksi paused to take, “I’m sorry I’m calling you at this hour and bothering you with this all but I guess I just… wanted to hear your voice. To see if that would help.”

“Does it?” Olli asked. Aleksi’s confession had made him clasp his blanket close to his chest, as if that would do anything about his rapidly beating heart.

“Yeah. It does. So maybe just… keep talking?”

Despite his mind living a life of its own, completely unfit to form a single coherent thought, for Aleksi’s sake Olli tried his best to think of something to say, but everything he came up with was something he was not ready to tell him quite yet. 

“Uuummmm…” he said to buy himself some time, but while he waited for his useless brain and mouth to form any actual words, Aleksi spoke again.

“Fuck, I’m– I’m sorry, this is too weird, I shouldn’t have– I’ll let you go back to–”

“I miss you,” Olli blurted before Aleksi would hang up on him. He squeezed his eyes shut when Aleksi went silent, too silent for too long for it to mean any good.

The line stayed open, however, which Olli took as a positive sign, even if the seconds during which all Olli could hear was Aleksi's quiet breathing seemed endless.

“And I you,” Aleksi finally replied. “A little too much, probably, or at least that’s what it feels like,” he chuckled. Olli almost missed the quiet sniff that followed.

He had to steel himself for his next question.

“What do you mean?”

“Just… forget it.” Aleksi said quietly. Contrary to Aleksi’s request, Olli knew he was going to all but ‘forget it’ for the next 3-5 business days; mentally he booked all his evenings as well as most of his mornings and noons for pondering what exactly had been in Aleksi’s mind in that moment or why he had sounded so sombre, almost disappointed. He’d probably never come to any satisfactory conclusion about it though, at least not without a little help from Aleksi himself. 

A ridiculous idea popped into his head, and before he could stop himself, the words flooded out of his mouth.

“Do you wanna come over some time? To hang out? When your schedule’s a little less tight, I mean.” He sucked on his lips and closed his eyes as he waited for Aleksi’s answer, ready to hang up the moment he’d decline the offer on some obvious and logical reason for why Aleksi couldn’t possibly make nor want to take a trip to the north to see him, such as ‘didn’t we just spend over two months on the road together?’ or ‘damn, buddy, I miss you alright but not quite that much, I’ve done enough sitting in public transportation for one year, thank you very much lol’ or ‘what about Rilla?’

“You could take Rilla with you, you know.” Olli hurried to say, just in case, the deranged part of his brain thinking there might be a chance Aleksi might be at least considering it.

“Oh! Well, umm… I actually might have time next week? If– if you’re actually being serious about this.”

Funny you should ask, Aleksi; I’ve actually never been more serious about anything in my entire life than I am about having you here with me so that I can hold you and be held by you and see your face when I wake up in the morning and say goodnight to your annoyingly cute face instead of via text message and maybe, if the stars are in position and the northern wind won’t discourage me too much, I might actually be brave enough to torment you with the knowledge of just how miserable I’ve been since we last saw each other.

“I think it would be cool,” he said, because he had a feeling what he wanted to say would’ve been a tad too much and sudden. “I mean, if you’re up for it, of course. I understand if you can’t make it though, I know you have all those side projects.”

“No, I think it might actually do me some good to get out of the capital area for change.” Then there was a muffled ‘ouch’, followed by a laugh that sounded much brighter than any of the other ones Olli had heard from Aleksi that night. “Sorry, correction, it might do us some good. Rilla just told me she’s most definitely coming too. Rilla, stop nibbling on my toes!”

Olli smiled tiredly at the mental image that was painted in his mind of Aleksi and Rilla cuddling in bed, both minding their own business from what it seemed while still minding each other as well, very much indeed.

“I’ll be sure to set up a bed for her in the guest room.”

“The guest room? Do you not know her at all? If she’s not getting the master bedroom, she’ll ruin all your rugs and most of your shoes. Probably also gossip about you to all the neighbourhood dogs. And she’s brutal.”

Olli held his stomach as he laughed, tears almost forming in the corners of his eyes. In his defence, it was late and he was finally becoming tired, thus too far gone to help himself, let alone feel embarrassed about being in stitches about something Aleksi had said that was only mildly amusing. (It wasn’t the first time that had happened either, and likely not the last time.)

“So yeah, ummm, I can take a look at some flight options for next week and let you know, alright? I’m gonna let you sleep now and… I should get some myself too.”

Olli wanted to tell Aleksi he’d love to stay up chatting until dawn, but the yawn he let out when he opened his mouth to speak implied Aleksi had a point.

“Yeah, let me know. And… thanks for calling, I… you have no idea how much I needed this tonight.”

That was as close to a confession as Olli was able to get as of now.

“Probably not half as much as I did.”

Olli chuckled at Aleksi’s response, mostly to hide his own agony.

If only you knew. If only I knew how to tell you.

It didn’t take long for Olli to doze off after they hung up, and when he woke up to the kids from next door having a snowball fight under his window in the morning, he noticed new messages from Aleksi, sent half an hour after their phone call had ended, complete with screen captions of airplane schedules.

Would these days work for you? I might be free all week actually 😇

Olli cuddled into his pillow while typing his reply, hoping it wouldn’t wake up Aleksi.

yeah I’m free as well. I’ll pick you two up from the airport 🖤

From then on, Olli started counting the days until he’d see Aleksi again.

[t4t4terezi]

man working on this dress pattern after the last thing I made was self drafting the diamond pattern on howl's jacket feels dangerously easy. i know this feeling will rapidly vanish after I've made my first mock up but it's still wild

[jaradraws]

hello everyone. if you liked conclave, please consider checking out our game when it releases: the team has been sequestered the last couple months pulling this together and we're rly proud of it :]

Delectatio Morosa: A Conclave Visual Novel

We’re very excited to announce Delectatio Morosa: A Conclave Visual Novel coming soon in early March!

Play as Dean Thomas Cardinal Lawrence as he prepares for an All Saints’ Day Celebration at the Vatican, and try to manage his fellow Curia members too!

[gyaruhana]

pls write for thanos with hatefucking… like that man has that potential after seeing how he talks to the other contestants

Thanos/Choi Su-Bong - Hatefucking

Synopsis: You and Thanos hate each other and, no matter how many death threats he sends your way, you never listen. So he decides that, if threats don't work, maybe you need to be fucked instead.

A/N: wrote this in like two hours max so it may not be the best but I tried anyway !! I love Thanos so much and hatefuck with him has me thirstyy

Warnings: smut, penetrative sex, blowjob, degradation, thanos is a little meanie and you're sassy

If there was one thing that could be said for sure about Thanos, it's that he was a total fucking dickhead. 

From the very first game you played in this hellhole, he had been nothing but a problem. He skipped around like he owned the place and had no problem with sacrificing a few people. Not to mention, he was loud. So annoyingly loud. 

Unfortunately for you, he seemed to really hate you too. Maybe it was the fact you kept glaring at him like he did something or the way you'd make some sort of sarcastic comment every time he spoke. Whatever the reason, the feeling was mutual. He hated you. You hated him. That was the end of it.

Well, it should've been. 

As if some divine being took joy in your pain, Thanos walked up to you while you were alone with an angry look - clearly having something to say to you. You could guess he was going to try to threaten you into choosing to continue the games next vote since you had chosen not to.

“Yo. It'd be in your best interest to choose the blue button. It's really pissing me off when you keep pressing that red x button every time,” he spoke as he looked down at you from where you sat.

“Or what?” You say as you stand up and look at him with disdain. You weren't about to let this idiot try to scare you into doing what he wants. You weren't his slave. “Or I'll fucking kill you,” he says as he steps closer with a look that seemed like he meant it. Honestly, you didn't doubt that he was telling the truth. He's been killing people since the first game and it certainly won't be any different for you.

“Ooh, scary,” you say sarcastically before pushing past him. You didn't get far before he grabbed your wrist and turned you around, pulling you close to him. “You don't think I'll do it? Cause you'd be wrong,” he says as he looks at you dead in the eyes. You harshly pulled your wrist away from his grip and gave him a scoff.

“You're too much of a pussy to do shit. The only thing that gives you confidence are those dumb little pills you take,” you say as you look at him, challenging him to say something else.

It was quiet as you two just stared at each other, both silently praying for the other's death. He lets out an annoyed huff before finally breaking eye contact to look to the side. Without another word, he pushes past you and walks back to the other side of the room where the rest of the people who wanted to continue playing the game were. If that idiot really thought he could sway you, he'd soon learn you aren't swayed by death threats from high dumbasses.

When it came time to vote, you could feel Thanos staring you down. You turned your head to look back at him with an eyebrow raised and he turned his head away. You could see the annoyance all over his face. 

One by one, each player went up and placed their vote. The numbers were quite even and it was hard to tell who'd end up victorious in this vote. When it was Thanos's turn to vote, he made a point of stopping right behind you before he walked down.

“Remember what I said earlier. I'll kill you,” he whispers before walking past and skipping down towards the buttons. He kissed the blue button before walking over to the corresponding side but he was looking straight at you.

You ignored his hard glare and walked down to the buttons. You raised your hand and, no surprise, pressed the red button. You turned to him and flipped him off with a small smirk before walking off to the other side. 

For a moment, you actually thought you'd get away with that because it seemed that more people wanted to leave now. However, that was not the case as the result ended up being a tie.

Great. You were stuck here for longer. You definitely wouldn't be able to avoid Thanos if you were stuck here till tomorrow. He didn't seem to walk up to you immediately. It was like he was waiting for the right time to strike. All he did was stare at you from across the room as if he was formulating the most brutal way to tear you limb by limb. And, wow, he stared at you for a very long time. 

It wasn't until there were 5 minutes before lights out did he come to you. You were all by yourself in a corner and no one seemed to be paying much attention. They were all so busy in their own whispered conversations.

“Hey, it seems you didn't understand me the first time,” he says as he grabs you by your shirt and pushes you against the wall behind you. “I said I'd kill you if you pressed the red button,” he continues as he looks at you with annoyance.

“Go ahead then. Kill me,” you say as you look at him with a small smirk. He might have already killed a few people but you didn't believe he'd have the guts to kill people outside of the games.

He was quiet. All he did was stare. It was as if he was calculating some thoughts. He looked toward the timer on the wall before looking back at you.

“You're fucking unbearable,” he speaks before he's suddenly slamming his lips against yours. You didn't expect this move. You expected him to stab you or choke you - not kiss you.

You push him away with a glare. You couldn't be kissing this idiot. You hated him and he was fucking stupid. But even with that hate, there was something about the way he kissed you that had you thinking twice.

Fuck, you were doing this. 

You pulled him in by his collar and pressed your lips against his. There was nothing romantic about this kiss. It was pure hate. Just angry, rough kissing as if it would solve anything. His hands were all over your body before they finally decided to settle on your hips with a tight grip. He pulled away before starting to leave kisses along your neck. He wasn't gentle at all. He was biting you as if he wanted to draw blood.

“You're such a fucking bitch. Always acting so smug. I'm gonna shut you the fuck up,” he says as his hand goes to your hair before yanking it back roughly to give him better access to your neck. 

“You're the fucking bitch. Always walking around like you own the place,” you say back and in response he bites your neck hard making you wince slightly at the pain. “watch your fucking mouth,” he spoke as he pulled away and wrapped a hand around your throat. As if on cue, the lights suddenly turned off leaving you two in the dark.

He let out a small laugh as it went dark before he removed the hand on your hip and instead started pulling your pants down. 

“I'm gonna fuck you till you learn you're not in control, I am,” he says before pulling his own pants down. He wasn't going to play nice or take it easy. Not when you hadn't played nice with him. 

“You think you can fuck me into submission? You're way too fucking cocky,” you say with a quiet laugh, finding it amusing how he thought you'd fold once he started fucking you. “We’ll see,” he says, his grip around your throat tightening to shut you up. He pulled his boxers down slightly, enough to let his dick out, before he pushed your panties to the side.

“I'm gonna show you not to fuck with me again,” he whispers into your ear as he lines himself up with your entrance. Without another word, he starts slowly thrusting himself in till he's all the way inside you.

“You're such a fucking whore,” he says as he starts to pull out before thrusting in again with one stroke. He kept a pace of being fast and hard as if trying to make you feel his hate on a spiritual level. 

Well, God you could definitely feel it. He kept leaving aggressive bites all over your neck as he thrust into you. His hand around your neck kept its firm grip, enjoying the way you struggled to breathe. 

He wasn't fucking you for pleasure, he was fucking you to make you learn a lesson. He wanted to make you cum. He wanted to choke you till your vision got blurry. He wanted it to be clear he hated you with every fiber of his being. 

His free hand went down to your clit and he pinched it before rubbing it with a circular motion. He wasn't gentle so it brought a mix of both pain and pleasure. A feeling that brought you closer to the edge of a sweet, sweet release. He could feel you tighten around his cock and it made him let out a groan which turned into a small mocking laugh.

“Fuck, are you- going to cum? Already?” He says mockingly with a smirk. He took pleasure in knowing he could control you like this. Control someone who seemed to hate him. “C'mon, cum on my cock then, whore,” he said before pressing his lips to yours roughly. He forced his tongue into your mouth and he was clearly eager to get you to cum. 

With a slight angle of his hips, he thrusted into just the right spot that had you tipping far over the edge. He let out a groan at the feeling of you coming undone on his cock before he quickly pulled out. 

He released your throat and grabbed your hair instead before forcing you onto your knees. You looked up at him with a glare and he returned it with the corner of his mouth just barely quirked up. “suck my cock so I can come,” he said as he brought his cock closer to your mouth. He really didn't hesitate when you opened your mouth and immediately forced himself in with a groan at the feeling. 

“God.. do you taste yourself on my dick?” He says as he looks down at you. He thrusts into your mouth making you gag and he just laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. “You're such a fucking bitch when you talk shit. I like you better like this,” he speaks as he mercilessly thrusts into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat over and over again.

“I'm gonna cum in your mouth and you're gonna swallow, yeah?” He says before throwing his head back with a groan. It didn't take long before you felt his cum run down your throat. He thrusted a little more as he came down from his high before finally pulling out of your mouth. There was drool running down your chin as he pulled his boxers and pants up before kneeling in front of you.

“Swallow my cum,” he orders as he tilts his head at you and waits. You look up at him before turning your head and spitting onto the floor instead. 

“I think I'll pass,” you say as you look up at him once again with a glare. Tension rose between you two again but this time, it was different. Sure, it was hate, but there was undeniably a different punishment waiting instead of an argument.

“Then I guess you haven't learnt your lesson,”

[divagrace]

How Sweet Pogue reader met Rafe!

Soft RafexSweetPogue reader

Summary: Rafe is known to hate Pogues. All of them are nuisances to him. Until one particular girl catches his eye. He asks Topper if he knows her name and only for Topper to tell him that she’s a Pogue.

Warnings: Nothing!

Enjoy 🫶🏻🫶🏻

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊

The beach party was in full swing. People were drinking, dancing, and partying their asses off. Rafe on the other hand, was busy trying to make sure Topper’s psychotic girlfriend, Ruthie, didn’t start any more fights with people. She was literally insane.

“Topper. Control your girl. She’s being a fucking lunatic.” He bites out to Topper. Crazy ass bitch. He thinks to himself. His eyes scan the beach, making sure everything is going smoothly. Then all the sudden, his eyes land on you.

You’re wearing a bright pink tank top, it’s spaghetti straps fighting to hold in your boobs that are threatening to spill out from you jumping around. It shows just a sliver of your tan waist, but it’s enough to make Rafe want to wrap his arms around it. Your toned legs are clad in a pair of jean shorts and beaded brackets decorate your arms.

You look so carefree, so happy. Dancing around with everyone. Your smile is stunning. It takes Rafe’s breath away in the best way possible.

Rafe turns to Topper. “Hey, who is that?” He asks him. Topper tries to see who Rafe is pointing to.

“Dude, there’s about 20 people you could be pointing to right now.” Topper says sarcastically.

“Her. The girl in the pink tank top and jean shorts.” Rafe says growing impatient, even though he knows Topper had a point. It’s a giant group of dancing teenagers and Rafe could have been pointing to any of them. But he needed to find out who this girl is.

“Oh. Man that’s Y/N. She’s hot but I would never mess with her. She’s a Pogue, the Pogue princess as many people refer to her.” Topper spits the word out with disgust. Rafe’s eyes widen.

Now he remembers. Of course he knows how the Pogue Princess is. I mean, he’s the Kook King.

Well you being a Pogue isn’t going to stop him. He may hate Pogues but most of them are annoying and make stupid decisions. He’s never even heard of you so you must be normal.

Rafe walks over to you confidently. When he wants something, he gets it. And you’re no different.

When he lightly grabbed Y/N’s arm, she was startled and turned around to see who the culprit was.

She was even more surprised when she was met with Rafe Cameron staring down at her. Y/N along with everybody else knows that Rafe doesn’t interact with Pogues unless he has to. And typically it’s in a violent way.

Rafe has never done anything bad to her before. Honestly, she doesn’t get out too much anyways. Usually her dad is making her scrub down their little shack, and if not, she’s out at the beach tanning and surfing.

Y/N just lives her life to the fullest. Her family is dirt poor, the only reason they have a roof over their heads is because her grandpa built her house when he was younger. But other than that, life is all about the experience for her. She tries to be kind to everybody and will never ever judge someone for what they look like, or how they are. That’s why many people in town refer to her as the “Pogue Princess”.

But she has no hard feelings towards Rafe unlike many other kids on the cut her age. She doesn’t blame them though.

“Hi.” Rafe says. He can smell her intoxicating scent. She smells like a warm, vanilla, bakery. The breeze is making her scent drift right to his nose.

“Hi!” She giggles and its music to ears. “Do you need something from me?” She asks him.

He lets go of her arm and runs a hand through his buzzed hair. But something caught his attention, there was no judgment, no nasty look, or condescending tone in her voice that was directed at him. Most people in town couldn’t even look at him without wincing. Whether it was from fear or disgust. So naturally, Rafe was drawn to her.

“Well I just wanted to come talk to the prettiest girl on the beach.” He said with a grin stretching across his face. Y/N’s face burned with a blush.

“You think I’m pretty?” She shyly asked him

“I think you’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He leans down and whispers in her ear.

The red staining Y/N’s cheeks turned to a dark crimson. Y/N has struggled with her appearance for a long time. Her dad being the main cause of that, always calling her ugly and worthless. The compliment meant a lot to her.

Rafe and Y/N shouted over the loud music, talking to each other about everything. Y/N was dancing and swaying to the music, and Rafe was trying to keep her still so her words wouldn’t jumble up while she was bumping around.

After a while, Y/N got tired. She smushed her face into Rafe’s chest.

“I’m tiredddd.” She complained. Rafe wrapped his hands around her forearms and guided her to a big piece of driftwood down the beach. Now they were away from the craziness of the party.

Rafe was looking at Y/N with something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite decipher.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She’s asks him.

“Can I go on a date with you?” The words fly out of his mouth before he can even register what he’s saying. Y/N’s mouth falls open.

“What?” She asks.

“Can I take you out? On a date. Tomorrow.” Rafe says. Now his words are collected and put together.

Y/N teases him a little. Taking a long time to come up with an answer. Even going as far as tapping her pointer finger on her chin and making it look like she’s thinking about it. Obviously there is only one answer.

“Y/N.” Rafe mutters.

“Of course I will!” Y/N happily says, finally giving up on her teasing. A sigh of relief escapes Rafe. Like she was really going to say no.

“Thank goodness. Here’s my phone you can give me your phone number so you can send me your address.” Rafe says while fishing his phone out of his pocket and opening his contacts app.

Y/N’s whole mood changes. More red flush adorns her cheeks, but not out of the fact that she has butterflies or is nervous, it’s out of embarrassment.

“What’s wrong?” Rafe asks her. He noticed her mood change.

“Ummm. I don’t have a phone.” She says.

“Why are you grounded or something?” Rafe asks her.

“No, it’s just my parents can’t afford to get me a phone.” Y/N says embarrassed.

Rafe’s eyes widen. He has never experienced a life without having some sort of electronics thrown in his face. Ward had always tried to buy his and his sister‘s love with either the newest gaming console or tablet or iPhone.

“Oh. Well that’s okay. You can just give me your address and I’ll write it down in my notes app.” Rafe says. It’s obvious that she is uncomfortable about not having a phone, so he doesn’t want to make it something it doesn’t have to be.

“Okay.” Y/N says and then proceeds to tell Rafe her address. She’s glad he didn’t make a big deal out of the situation. I mean it’s the 21st century almost every kid her age has a cell phone, especially in the Outer Banks. But unfortunately, her parents don’t make enough money to be able to give her a phone. So she goes without one. The only way her friends can communicate with her, is verbally.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow, 6pm sharp. Wear something comfortable.” Rafe says and smiles.

“Okay. I’ll be ready” Y/N beams up at him.

“Can’t wait baby.” That’s the last thing Rafe says before walking off and disappearing into the crowd of teenagers.

What just happened? They both wonder to themselves.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

First one! 🫶🏻

[randomshyperson]

One Of Your Girls - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

summary: A study session turns into a make out session. Or the one where the most beautiful girl on campus is your situationship and you would never refuse to distract her, even during exam weeks.

words: 3.820k | warnings: (+18), college au, fuck buddies, popular!wanda x loser!reader, mostly smut but there’s actually some plot here, bottom!wanda (we need way more of this sorry), oral, fingering, some dirty talk, reader is briefly described to be shy and introverted because of the loser archetype, w and r are actually super comfortable with each other don’t be fooled, text messages are in bold cause i never tried that before.

A/N-> I have written more than 100 works for wanda, but I don’t remember ever writing casual sex before. To be a demisexual is really something, huh? Anyways, this was actually based on “One of Your Girls” from Troye Sivan, but around the middle I just started doing my own thing honestly. Good reading!

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Song-Based Collection

-&-

To inspire students to have sharper minds, as she likes to say, Miss Harkness is known for having the hardest tests on the entire campus. This means that you needed to study seriously for next week's exam, without quick readings or breaks to watch the television or talk about anything other than Applied Sociology with your friends.

And definitely, no 'study' sessions with Wanda Maximoff.

You shouldn't even think about Wanda, and her emerald eyes and bold hands. You need to think about Émile Durkheim or Max Weber, and any other sociologist from past centuries, with their difficult theories from which long and complicated questions will be in your exam.

But Wanda and the casual thing you two have is like clockwork. You had barely made up your mind about keeping your distance, and prepared a proper study session in your dorm - empty that afternoon due to a divine miracle that occupied Natasha and her girlfriend Maria all day - for your cell phone to vibrate with the notification from the person you had decided to ignore.

Stealing a glance at the contact name, you grunted quietly and turned your attention back to the book that had just finished reading the first page.

Focus.

Another vibration makes you roll your eyes.

Wanda didn't do anything wrong, maybe you could just say you’re busy.

"I am bored."

Her text makes you laugh through your nose. Typing quickly, you don't expect a return to your "And I’m busy. Talk to u later."

Your cell phone vibrates again, but you stand firm. Sociology will not study itself. There's a shift of pages, and you taste some of the mint tea from the mug on the table before your cell phone rings again.

Maybe it's someone else. It may be important.

You can’t even fool yourself.

The book is placed on your lap, and you unlock the screen for a photo that brings a warm color to your ears and spreads around your body as quickly as this whole thing began.

"What if I was in public?." You type with a certain harshness, which doesn't match the way your heart missed a beat. Or how you've completely forgotten about the book now, and all you can do is bite back a sigh at the image of the prettiest nipples in this galaxy.

Wanda responds in the same second, and you want to ignore the way your stomach twists at the thought of her feeling eager for a response from you.

"Kinky."

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "You're the worst" That's what you type. You end up sighing when looking at the pile of books around. Wanda only needed one stupid photo to completely take your focus away.

She types before you can tell her off for it. "Are you in your dorm? Wanna see you."

You bite your lip. She is so infuriating.

"I have to study."

You can almost hear her giggling on the other end. "Don't you always?"

You think about cursing at her teasing, but you don't want to cross any lines. It's true that this relationship is a constant push and pull, but Wanda isn't clingy for no reason. You're about to ask if something happened when she adds "Are you really gonna force me to send another photo..."

You swallow hard. "I'm not forcing you to do anything. I was innocently studying until now.”

It takes her a moment, but finally, there's another photo. With your fingers shaking, you forget to breathe at the image of her thighs, a red garter belt in contrast to the pale skin, barely covered by her mini-skirt. It was such a simple image yet so provocative, Wanda truly had talent.

"Fuck me." You sigh quietly, unable to type anything back for a moment.

And so she does it first. "Did I melt your brain?"

“Please come here.” You begged, only imagining her smirk on the other line.

Wanda typed back a second later; “I thought you were studying. I wouldn't want to distract you.”

You huckle incredulously at her cynicism, and almost type back a curse but end up deciding to get up instead, hurrying to make the room less messy for your guest.

Wanda takes a while to show up at your room - Unlike you, she lives on the other side of campus, in an apartment shared with her brother. The outfit she's wearing is definitely more impressive in person, and you have to control yourself not to feel jealous at the realization that a good part of the university has just seen her parading around looking so stunning. This was definitely Yelena's doing, the one responsible for trying out everything she learned in her course on her friends and successfully dressing the whole group like supermodels.

Sometimes you wish you were more sociable, at least to be friends with Yelena and get new clothes.

Not that you have any idea of ​​this, but Wanda did a great job of hiding the way her stomach did two flips when she saw how comfy you looked, the dark green sweatshirt covering your shorts making her immediately think about exploring underneath.

"What's up, loser?"

Wanda had this problem. High defense barriers, almost all the time, but especially when she was feeling things that were out of her control. Like the way her heart raced in your presence, or how she was starting to run out of decent excuses to meet you without admitting the only reason was simply because she wanted to spend some time together.

When you first talked, freshman year, she was the most intimidating person on campus (she still is), but with a little insistence (or friends playing cupid) you had managed to see sides of her that no one else had seen. And vice versa.

It was a pretty interesting dynamic, the most popular girl on campus and a big nerd with social anxiety were somehow dating. Wanda dragged you to parties whenever possible, a possessive hand on yours and a threatening look at any idiot who thought of giving you a hard time. And often you end up in some drunken Instagram live or records of friends making out in the background.

When you weren’t doing the things she liked, Wanda would just show up. After your classes, in the study hall, during your break from your internship, and in your dorm. She didn’t mind showing you off, but there was something so soft about spending time alone. When her defenses were down, the mean girl mask would fall and she would laugh at your stupid jokes, or dress up in your clothes to make pancakes in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t an official relationship, but it was something really closer to one. Something that gave her free rein to come and go as she pleased from your life, and mess everything around as she went.

You made room for her to enter, and she gave a long kiss to your cheek before leaving her shoes at the entrance. You were blushing when you closed the door.

The dorm you shared with Natasha had little more than the space needed for two beds and two desks, but somehow you and her managed to squeeze in enough decorations on the walls and even some of her ballet and fighting awards. Your side was covered in band and movie posters and science holiday medals. A barely used keyboard sat dusty in the corner, and you had made a mental note to show Wanda how to play Over the Rainbow sometime. She tossed her backpack on the corner of your desk, and you hurried to try to clear up some of the clutter on the wood, blushing even more when she chuckled. 

“Come here.” She asked softly, and you swallowed hard as you stumbled closer to her again, guided by her hands holding your wrists. Wanda actually wanted your arms around her, and that’s where she put them. So her hands went up to your shoulders. “You always get so shy when we’re alone.” 

“I am shy.” 

She shakes her head slightly.  “That’s not true,” she says, leaning in close to brush her lips against yours. You gasp slightly, and Wanda pulls away, teasing. "You're an introvert, but no one shy says the things you say when you're turned on, darling"

Yochuckle, shaking your head with pink cheeks. "Shut up." 

She bites back a smile, and leans in, but the kiss is too short, it's so unfair. You try to chase her mouth, but Wanda pulls away to hug you. And that surprises you as much as her breathing deeply into your neck. 

You don't remember hugging her before. Not really. There's plenty of sex of course, and making out and pillow talk and late-night snacks. But Wanda isn't the type to cuddle, or hug. It gives what you two have an intimacy that you understand she doesn't want to have, or didn’t, past tense. 

Your hand caresses your back, and you're not quite sure if you should say anything but finally you do; "Is everything okay?"

It's like throwing a bucket of cold, reality-filled water over her. She breaks the hug, forcing a laugh that doesn't convince you at all.

"Of course!" She says, pulling you close at once and giving you a kiss that's much more determined than before. That almost makes you forget where you were, almost. "Let's take these off." She pulls the folds of your sweater up, but even though you let her, you risk:

"Wanda, are you sure-"

She cuts you off again, this time kissing you with tongue. It's definitely hotter, and it elicits a breathless moan from you. Her hand holds your face, controlling the kiss until you whimper against her mouth. Wanda lets you breathe as she pushes you by the shoulders to the bed, and you fall sitting, facing her.

"I said take your clothes off." She repeats, but it's her who puts on a little show. She pulls off her blouse at once, and the exposure of her breasts covered only by a red lace bra leaves you mesmerized. Wanda giggles at your reaction. “Every damn time.” She teases, her hands moving to undo it. But you move suddenly, grabbing her hips and pulling her onto your lap in urgency. Wanda gasps in surprise at the heated kiss, losing herself in the task of removing her bra as you start to suck on her tongue. With one hand on your shoulder for support, the other ruffles your hair before she feels her bra loosen on her body, not having even noticed your hands working on the clasp until now. She bites her bottom lip as she feels the item being pulled away from her body. 

“You’re getting better at this.” She teases again. You look at her with lust-bright eyes but also with a frown.

“Better? When have I ever been bad at this? Certainly not with you, because you came three times on your first time together.” 

Wanda raises an eyebrow at you, her hips grinding slowly against your lap. “Like I said, not shy at all.” You roll your eyes, gripping her hips a little more firmly to guide her movements. It's Wanda who chases your mouth again, returning with equal fervor every kiss you give her.

Your hands let go of her hips to slide down her thighs, until finally touching the garter belt. You break the kiss with an affected groan, and Wanda takes the opportunity to catch her breath a little. If the image of her swollen lips and dilated pupils wasn't enough to drive you crazy, looking down did. Her skirt was wrinkled up, and the red garter belt was truly a sight. A damp spot was now visible on your pants from all her grinding, and you would have time to feel proud of making her so aroused with just kisses later.

As you pulled the garters and made them slap gently against Wanda's skin, you smiled when she shivered, a breathy moan escaping her mouth. It was such a beautiful thing, turning all her bad girl attitude into a pathetic mess of whimpering.

But suddenly you remembered that she had walked across half the campus wearing this, so your clenched jaw had another reason.

"Did you get dressed up for me?"

Wanda gave a short laugh, not really understanding what you were saying. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

You glared at her, your hands giving another warning tug, and Wanda wanted to hate the way her body twitched, but she couldn't help it.

"If not me, who?"

She blinked in confusion, deep in her own lust. 

Why were you still talking when she was literally dripping on your lap?

"What are you-" She fell silent when you grabbed her throat, your grip making her thrust her hips in desperation for friction, her mouth opening in a needy moan. Her own reaction surprised her, and Wanda would have tried to work things out if you hadn't taken away her ability to respond when you kissed her again, dirty and hard until she started whimpering on your tongue again. When you pulled apart again, your fingers invaded her mouth and Wanda's eyes widened, realizing that this might be the first time she'd come without even being properly touched.

You seemed to have noticed the same thing, a chuckle escaping you as she began sucking on your fingers with the same fervor she was trying to grind into your lap.

"Tsk, look at you, Wanda." You began, your hand moving from her throat down to her garter belt, to pull it off again. "You really want me to believe anyone else can turn you into this needy mess?" Flushed with arousal, Wanda still manages to frown in confusion. Anyone else. What the hell are you talking about? There’s no one else.

But suddenly, you remove your fingers from her mouth, and when she tries to ask, it's too late. Your soaked fingers have moved down and they fill her without warning, sinking inside her and eliciting a throaty moan that makes her head fall forward, forehead to yours, and nails digging into your shoulders. You laugh hoarsely. "Fuck, you're so wet, Wands."

The dirty sound of your fingers moving inside her echoes in the room along with her breathless moans, but you don't prolong things for too long. There’s an urgency and roughness to your movements that makes Wanda roll her eyes back and bounce on your fingers in animalistic desperation.

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna—” It’s always such a beautiful sight. She arches on top of you, spasming as her climax hits her and spreads hot waves of pleasure. Your hand is soaked, but you pull your fingers away to lick them one by one as Wanda tries to get back into orbit.

When she finally does, it's rewarding. It's your turn to have your throat grabbed, and Wanda presses forward until you're lying on the bed, at her mercy, even as a smile plays on your lips.

It's time for her to shake that smugness off your face.

"You're overdressed." It comes in a warning tone, and her hands go down to remove your clothes, one by one. You help her, between one kiss and another, a touch and a squeeze, until finally, Wanda ends up on your lap again, this time, with no fabric between you other than the beautiful lingerie she picked out for you.

Oh, of course she lets you know.

"I don't want you to get any more cocky than you already are." She began between the countless breathless kisses you were exchanging, minutes on end in this hot make-out session. "But all I could think about when I bought it was how you were going to look at me." She takes advantage of your gasp in surprise to bite your lip and pull, making you tremble. With a smug little smile, Wanda looks at you with darkened eyes. "And how were you going to take it off."

Your hands move of their own accord - There's a hard tug to pull her against you, and you end up rolling around on the bed, until Wanda ends up underneath, writhing at your touch. Your fingers slipped under the belt again, but now you take your time to remove the item, slowly until Wanda couldn't hold her breath any longer.

Stealing a glance at her dripping pussy that she displayed so proudly on her parted legs, you clicked your tongue again before finding your space in her middle, your hands fitting behind her thighs.

"You spoil me, you know?" You whisper, feeling her fit her ankles into your back, an impatient whimper escaping her. You were so close to where she wanted, needed, but still not giving her what she was begging for. "I don't know what I did to deserve such a sweet gift."

Wanda tries to play along, she really does. But you give her a tentative lick, and another, and all that escapes her are shaky moans, as one hand grips your hair, the other seeks support in the sheets. Something she can pull at will without hurting.

She feels hot in all the right places, and she wants to police herself for how addicted she is becoming to the feeling of having you like this, but it's impossible to think about that right now. With you eating her so well and making her forget all her problems.

You hum suddenly, satisfied at the taste, and at the vibration, Wanda loses it. There's a loud whimper escaping her throat as she arches against you, begging for more, but you hold her in place, your own hips grinding against the bed as Wanda starts to sound desperate for your tongue to go deeper.

When you risk teasing her again, shallow tongue strokes that leave her dizzy and shaking, Wanda loses her patience. She curses under her breath, and grabs your hair with determination, managing a satisfied grunt from you before she forces your face against her pussy. Not caring if she’s hurting you or suffocating you, Wanda chases her high with near desperation. She grinds her hips against your face, and locks her legs behind your back, using you until she comes.

She sounds so hot when it finally happens. Your name drips from her tongue as she drips into your mouth. It’s so strong that her body instantly goes weak, her legs shaking around you. You chuckle against her thigh, taking great satisfaction in leaving her like this.

Still catching her breath, she calls out. “Come here, asshole.”

You think she wanted a kiss, maybe another orgasm. But Wanda just adjusts you to her side, so she can rest against you. This is new too, spooning. It's the kind of thing casual encounters shouldn't do.

Of course she notices how tense you've become, and it only takes the moment for her to stop shaking for Wanda to look up, her chin resting on your chest.

"You don't have to overthink everything."

A nervous laugh escapes you. "I wasn’t."

Wanda makes a small grimace of unconvincedness. "I know you were. It's what you do. It's one of the things that makes you, you." She says, and it takes you a little by surprise. She sighs then, and looks away, resting her face against your chest again. You almost think she's not going to say anything else when she continues. "It's good that you think of all the possibilities. That way I'll never be able to disappoint you, you'll always see it coming."

You frown, absorbing her words in silence for a moment. Wanda begins to draw patterns on your stomach that look like her initials, until you sigh.

"I know we haven't named it what’s between us, but whatever it is, you can always tell me what's bothering you." You let her know quietly, your fingers playing through the strands of her hair. "And we can just talk, you know? It doesn't always have to end in sex. You don't have to get a new lingerie as an excuse to see me. No matter how hot you look on it."

She pinches you for the joke, but she’s smiling when she looks back at you.

“You’re not good at the whole casual sex thing, are you?” She teases, but she’s genuinely so happy with your previous words that she just can’t hide it.

You smile, watching her hover closer and closer. “You think? Because I think I’m doing pretty well at this, miss-Oh, baby, I’m gonna come,”

You do an imitation that makes Wanda's eyes widen and she blushes deeply while she huffs in embarrassment. You burst out laughing when she tries to cover your mouth and stop the teasing, and it ends up turning into a small fight of hands and tickles until Wanda ends up underneath again, now with her hands pinned on either side of her head.

There is an exchange of glances between the two of you, and you are smiling just like her.

You know that today, Wanda will not tell you what bothered her, what brought her here. She is right, however, you’re an overthinker and already have a hundred possibilities for what could have brought her there, and considering that you know from her friends how much she has been fighting with her father in the last few weeks, it is not hard to assume it is related to that.

But Wanda returns the intensity of your gaze, and you know that something between you has changed. She will tell you when she is ready.

Your grip on one of her hands loosens, and Wanda uses the opportunity to touch your cheek.

"What are you thinking about?"

You sigh, and she can tell. Her heart misses a beat, and she considers if she’s ready for a confession. If it would scare her or make her so happy, she would freeze. Maybe both. 

But you grimace a little, and smirk, and Wanda feels silly for even considering.

"I'm definitely going to fail Miss Harkness's class this semester."

Wanda frowns and then bursts out laughing, confused and incredulous.

"What?" She asks between laughs. “Why would you be thinking about this now? With a naked girl in your bed, you nerd!”

You giggle at her words, your free hand fitting on her waist as you wait for her to stop chuckling. "I don't know why you're laughing, this is your fault. You ruined all my study sessions with your... distracting presence."

She rolls her eyes in a playful manner. “"Well, I could always just leave-"

You grip her waist tighter, holding her in place. "Nah, who cares about classes anyway? Come here."

Wanda will definitely help you study, she makes a mental promise. But she will kiss you first just a little longer.

[calypsocolada]

they think they lost you... ft. sanemi, rengoku, obanai, giyu, tengen, & hotaru

authors note: holy cow this was a lot of writing but i fear i may have done a good job. i hope you all enjoy this angst :)

cw: lots of mention of blood and gore, suggestive, angst, not proofread apologies

wc: 6.8k

click here for my masterlist

Sanemi isn’t able to speak. He'd never felt more anger in his life as he searched the charred remains of the mansion. A hopeless sort of desperation slowly nudging his anger to the back of his mind as he almost frantically tossed debris out of his way. His eyes searched everything they could, he left no stone unturned and only when all hope had been lost had he taken a step back.

You two paired up for this mission against Sanemi’s wishes of course. He’d been cold to you ever since you became a Hashira. Ignored you at every turn and when he couldn’t outright ignore you he was outwardly rude. Saying things about your position, how you weren’t strong enough to be fighting beside him, let alone any other hashira. Things that burnt you to your core. A part of you didn’t want to care about him. Didn’t want to linger on his vile words but you found yourself trying to prove him wrong at every turn. Trying to prove to him that you belonged. That you were strong enough to fight alongside him. It was stupid. It was idiotic. But you couldn’t help yourself. So when the chance to pair up with Sanemi arose you snatched it up with pleasure. 

He didn’t talk to you the entire train ride to your destination. You tried sparking some small conversation but… he just wasn’t having it. Not wanting to evoke his anger, you let him be, you lapsed into silence. You let him spend the rest of the ride alone in the suite as you explored the train, landing a seat in the little cafe until your platform was announced. Sanemi met you at the train door and gave you a withering look as he led the way off. For a moment you paused. You could let the door close right now, let the train carry you away. Let this week not be wasted on a man like him. 

But you stepped off the train.

The ashes of the mansion dusts up around Sanemi as he kicks the nearest pillar causing it to crack under his ire. You followed him off the train. He stayed spiteful to you. Why in the hell did you follow him? Sanemi felt the endless pit of anger in his stomach grow. You followed him into this mansion despite his warnings. You fought well. You fought violently and when Sanemi felt backed into a corner you helped him out of it at the cost of your life. This was the exact fucking reason he was so cold to you. The exact reason he kept his distance. The coldness inside of him was warmed just by your mere presence and he hated it. He hated that the mere thought of you and the mere sight of you weakened his deposition. You made him weak and you made him sloppy. You evicted his better judgment and filled his thoughts with only images and moments he’s shared with you. You’d never know this though because he never once let even the slightest amount of want slip through the cracks. He was a tight ship and he hated himself for it. Because all his work amounted to nothing. All his attempts to scare you into another avenue, another way of life and it all didn’t matter. You were dead and you’d never know just how much he cared. 

Sanemi felt the aching start in his chest. A deep bone rattling ache that made him physically reach up and place a hand over his heart. He was bereft. He was speechless and angry and couldn’t fathom that your last moments were wasted saving someone like him. He could hear the spiraling of his thoughts, their downturn. Honestly… he wasn’t quite sure if he could live with himself after this. 

“Shinazugawa!” A voice chirped, clipped and quick. Then again. He turned and the sight was something that almost took out his knees. The utter relief that flushed over him turned his stomach and healed the ache in his chest. You limped your way towards him, your hand still gripping your broken sword. There was a shit eating grin on your lips as you waved your sword at him. “I saved your life, you absolute asshole!” You yelled, coughing slightly as you slowed your pace. Sanemi didn’t answer your words. He almost said he could kill you for scaring him so deeply but with the possibility still real and tangible in his mind it was something he couldn’t speak aloud. He walked forwards without words, none of them would come out right no matter how it was spoken. You slowed down at his quick pace and something flashed across your face moments before he yanked your stubborn ass into a lip smashing kiss. You stumbled back at the force of it only for Sanemi’s ash covered hands to slide around your hips and yank you into him.

~

It was beyond Rengoku’s scope that you’d been taken from him. The indomitable spirit within him wasn’t allowing him to accept the very real fact that you could be dead. That no matter how hard he fought there were things beyond his control. Things that could be taken from him. Even when he held on with the utmost of his might. 

Rengoku had happily asked you to accompany him on his mission. You weren’t a demon slayer, just a nice girl he met in a village diner a few years back. 

He’d seen you in the kitchen, watched you from his diner booth. Watched you wipe sweat off your brow as you fixed food so effortlessly, tendrils of hair around your face like vines of ivy. He couldn’t look away, even when a nice waitress brought him his food and it sat slowly losing its warmth. He’d made a habit of coming to the diner as often as he could and it wasn’t for the food, obviously… 

The first speaking interaction you two shared was a quick moment as you passed by. He met your eyes and you paused. Your town was pretty normal, most people around her dressed in darker colors and lots of layers due to the colder climate, hair usually one of three or four colors so seeing a man with loud two toned hair and fiery garb had stopped you in your tracks, though this wasn’t the first time you’d seen him it still gave you some pause. That was until you remembered your father telling you about the hashira that had been stopping by a few times a week. You minded your manners and gave the man a soft smile.

“Enjoying your food?” You knew the answer, this man usually ate ten to fifteen bowls in one sitting. He was currently on his seventh bowl when you ventured out of your spot to take a little break outside. The man’s mouth was full so he gave an enthusiastic nod of his head as you breathed out a soft laugh through your nose. “Good to hear.”  You said demurly, walking your way towards the front door. 

Rengoku searched the depths of the forest, he called out your name relentlessly, He listened intently. He searched for hours.He’d search for days for years if needed. He’d run himself ragged, he’d tear through the leaves, he’d overturn mountains, he’d tear down the sky in search of you. He’d find you too. There was something about the determination in him that would fight off the improbability that you could really be gone. If there was even the slimmest, smallest chance he could find you, that he could save you he’d traverse the depths of hell and back. He’d do it all for you. 

Rengoku popped his head out into the cold to follow you outside. He hadn’t followed you after the first time you spoke to him but he decided a few days later he wanted to talk more with you. Not usually given the chance while you were hard at work You sat on a bench on the side of the diner, shielded by the overhang as snow flurried around you. Rengoku wasn’t used to the cold but just the sight of you brought warmth to his bones. You turned your head at the door being pushed open and offered him a polite smile. Rengoku returned your smile, wide and bright. 

“Morning.” You greeted.

“Good morning.” Rengoku returned eagerly. You moved over, sharing your space as Rengoku greedily took your offer and sat beside you. The first thing you noticed about this man was his warmth. You grew up in the cold with a colder family. Rengoku’s smiles and radiating kindness was something foreign to you. Foreign but wholly welcomed and intriguing. For a few days after he sat beside you it started to be a sort of regular occurrence, he’d find you, you’d offer him a seat you two would talk. The normality set in quite quickly and you began to look forward to the moments you two shared on your little breaks. You found yourself drawn to him like a freezing body drawn to a roaring fire. Before you knew it things were serious, he took you away from that cold town, away from uncaring parents into a stable environment. He filled you with love and soon enough the dregs of your past were slowly forgotten. And when you begged him to let you tag along on just one of his missions he was unable to turn you down. 

So as he searched for you now he didn’t have a moment to cry. To let out his emotions. He wouldn’t let himself grieve. He hadn’t lost you yet. 

“Kyojuro…” Your voice was small but there was no way in hell he’d let it go unheard. He called out to you again and waited. He heard his name once more and ran with ungodly speed towards the lips that had spoken it. When he found you it was like seeing you for the first time all over again. You parted your lips, most likely to apologize for letting the demon separate you two but Regoku swept you up in a hug, spinning the both of you around. His hands held you tightly as you smiled, breathing out in relief. For a moment, lost in the pines, you felt that cold creeping in. But once again this man fought it out and won.

~

You staggered, your wounds opening as you pushed out through the trees. You felt the warmth of oozing blood staining your uniform. Losing your footing you crashed into the forest flooring, the pain making you see white momentarily. You tried to push to your feet but you were unable.

Obanai was fast through the trees, he was quiet, precise. He killed the left over straggler demons without remorse, without a second thought. He sliced cleanly and kept moving. You two had been separated for too long and Obanai couldn’t help but assume the worst. Assume that he’d lost you and due to his negligence would never see you again. He found part of your haori in the hand of a slain demon. He ripped the scrap away from its hand and held it tightly between his fingers, his heart thrumming wildly in his chest.

You had managed to finally get to your knees, you sat there for a moment. Rain had started to pour, freezing rain that soaked you completely through. Against all odds you got to your feet, you trudged forwards towards a clearing, back the way you and Obanai had previously been separated. 

Obanai enjoyed nights like these. Cold and quiet. With rain pouring against the roof of Kagaya’s mansion. He’d stopped here to give a report but the rain poured so heavily he was asked to stay over for the night before taking a trek back to his own home. Likewise you were in the same position and out of all the hashira to be stuck with Obanai would be your last choice. You found him terribly scary. He was standoffish with mannerisms much like his white snake that always perched itself on his shoulders. You weren’t necessarily a fan of snakes, nor a fan of the man that had one as a pet. But the people pleaser in you kept what little conversations you two shared, well more of you talked and he possibly, possibly not listened. 

You found yourself in a similar situation tonight like many other nights. That damned snake always found its way to you, startling you into a choked scream. Embarrassed, you clapped a hand to your mouth, not wanting to wake Kagaya and his family. Pretty much every time you were forced to interact with Obanai it was after he’d come looking for his snake that, without fault, found its way to you everytime.

“H-hello Kaburamaru.” You greeted as the white slithering thing made its way closer to you. You felt your heart in your throat as the creature raised its head as though to greet you back. You swallowed as it lowered itself and slithered towards you again. You stepped back, softly blowing out a stressed breath as it wrapped around your leg and made its way up and up until it was around your own shoulders. A part of you hated this but another part felt sort of… excited, almost honored that this creature chose to climb on you. Kaburamaru’s head sort of nuzzles against your cheek as you hear the backdoor to Kagaya’s kitchen slide open. You’d been eating a late night snack when the snake found you. Your probably wide eyes met Obanai’s as he stepped inside. He takes in the scene, his hand paused on the handle of the door. “H-he always seems to find me doesn’t he?” You ask, attempting lighthearted banter with the dark spectral that was Obanai. His two toned eyes meet yours. His black hair was slightly damp from the rain and he wasn’t in his usual haori but instead some casual clothes. You cleared your throat after he didn’t answer, after realizing you were staring at him. “It’s like he likes me or something.” You say as Kaburamaru nuzzles you again and you swear the creature nods its small head. Obanai doesn’t answer, just walks forwards and holds out an arm. It takes a moment for you to realize he’s extending a branch for Kaburamaru and you feel slightly sad as the creature slithers off of your shoulders, leaving them bare. Obanai wordlessly makes his way back to his room. “G-goodnight.” You call after him. No response.

Obanai stopped in a clearing, slowing. He felt… disheartened. Kaburamaru hadn’t perked up since the moment he last saw you and the last time was… well it was bad to say the least. You were injured, far worse than you tried to let on. Obanai didn’t want to push, he just wanted to get you out of this damned forest in one piece. But he’d been searching for over an hour, he couldn’t sense you at all. He’d called out to you time and time again but only the sound of trees rustling responded. That’s when he spotted something, something unmoving and still at the edge of the clearing.  

You sat beside him the next morning. Kagaya and his family had left earlier, leaving only you two. You were an early riser. You fixed breakfast and just as you finished Obanai stirred awake. WIth messy hair he walked groggily into the kitchen, yawning. When you first looked at him you almost didn’t notice but then you did. Usually he had a white bandage around the entire bottom half of his face below his nose. Usually. But he must’ve been entirely exhausted because that bandage was nowhere to be found. You didn’t let your eyes linger, you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. 

“M-morning.” You greeted in the same sort of nervous cadence you always greeted him in. He didn’t respond as he gathered his things. “I made breakfast.” You said.

“I see that.” He answered, his voice clearer than you’d ever heard it. You swallowed, feeling silly. 

“I made enough for two.” You added and watched his hand pause. He then suddenly slaps a hand over his mouth and wordlessly leaves the room. He must’ve noticed in a reflection. You fixed two plates in his short absence and two cups of green tea. Obanai appeared a few moments later with his bandage in place, Kaburamaru on his shoulders and his bag packed. “Wait… you should eat something before you go.” You say and when he doesn’t respond you just stop. You stop talking, stop trying to be his friend. He wrenches open the front door of the mansion. 

“Obanai,” You called out one last time. He pauses and turns as you walk up to him. You packed the breakfast into a little container, you held it out to him. “At least take it to go.” You say. He stares at you, eyes scrutinizingly sharp and you felt like he could see right through your skin to your innards.

“You saw my scars.” He started coldly. Your lips part in surprise as your eyes rise up to his. You give a simple sort of solemn nod of the head to him. His snake eyes cut to the container in your hands, the stare lingered there for a moment before rising back up. “You shouldn’t be nice to me.” He says. You can’t help but furrow your brows slightly.

“Hm?”

“You should be disgusted.” He says as though your reaction to his scars is something strange. You suck in a quiet breath, thinking about the right words to say at this moment.

“I’m not.”

Rain pelted against Obanai as he ran to you. You were slumped against a tree, blood staining your uniform. He didn’t waste a single second, he scooped your limp cold body into his arms and set out at a breakneck pace towards the way you two had previously entered the forest. There was a village doctor and Obanai would get you to him in record time. He wouldn’t lose you. Not after figuring out just how important you were to him. Not after sharing moments and nights and stories. You knew of his past, he’d told you everything over the few months after you’d seen his scars. All that shit that weighed him down, that haunted him you had listened to and bore some of its weight, easing things up for him a bit. He felt lighter with you around. He felt seen, he felt heard. And most of all… he felt loved. Care for even. You deserved everything you’d given to him, tenfold. He took you to shelter, he held your hand through the worst of it and sat at your bedside until you woke up hours later.

“That was one tough bastard of a demon.” Were the first words you’d spoken the next morning. Obanai had a crick in his neck from sleeping uncomfortably in the chair next to your bed. With snake-like grace and ease he rose from his chair and was sitting on your bed in mere seconds. You gaped at him as his hands slid against your cheeks, cupping them as he pulled you to him and pressed his forehead against yours. A gentle and tender gesture. He didn’t even need to tell you how bad you’d scared him, you understood it in the slight tremble of his fingers as he held your face.

~

It was happening again, just before Giyu's eyes. That fresh pain of revelation sat familiar and heavy in the pit of his stomach. He’d watch someone he’d loved risk it all before and lose. He couldn’t watch that again.  

Not after all you two had been through. 

Through ups and downs. You were just as much of a pained soul as he was. You’d lost about the same as him. Where he resorted to quiet you resorted to anger. It was something to be worked on but Giyu had never known anyone stronger than you. The loneliness inside him had reached out greedily for the smallest bit of warmth you had to offer and vice versa. You two had found solace in one another. A quiet comprehension and understanding. He’d begun to rely on you. You’d begun to trust him. You two had formed something not many hashira could keep. A simple thing that had been ripped away from almost every single one of you. Love. Something so pure and simple. You lost your family and after a lot of hardships and shutting yourself off from the world Giyu had found his way through your walls. He wormed his way into your heart and although you were wholly reluctant at first in the end you realized that life was just entirely too short to keep behind shackled walls. 

It wasn’t easy. You were easily scared off to relationships let alone the absolute devotion Giyu showed you. It was hard to stick beside him when you were so damn scared you’d lose him one day. It was just a recurring curse that always struck you when you least expected it. It was as though loving and losing was just a prophecy to be fulfilled. Giyu stood strong. He never wavered in the face of your fear. He stayed by your side even when you screamed and yelled for him to leave. He never raised his voice, he stayed on the path. The path being you. Because everytime you’d leave, or storm away, or get scared to your core he showed restraint to his own fears. He was as afraid of losing you as you were of losing him. But he didn’t push you away, in fact that only made him pull you closer. 

“One of us will die, leaving the other. So what’s the point, Tomioka? This will only serve to hurt us.” You had said teary eyed one day in the beginning of your relationship. For a few weeks you two wrestled with your feelings and it resulted in Giyu kissing you. It changed everything because from that point on you craved more. You hated it too. To crave someone so deeply knowing one day you’d lose them. 

“That’s true.” He said softly then. He’d reached for you, taking your hand, gently kissing your knuckles. You bit your lip, your cheeks flushed. Giyu was always like this when you were alone, around others you could never figure what he was thinking but alone he let you know exactly the scope of his thoughts and feelings. “But I’d rather be with you than not.” He answered as if it was really just that simple. He started kissing his way up your hand to your wrist, past your wrist up your arm. You swallowed dryly and when you turned your face towards him he kissed your lips. That terrible flip in your stomach came and the fear that wracked your brain over things out of your control slowly washed away. 

You killed them demon. It was an upper rank that surprised you both. It had Giyu at one point, had him by the throat as its jaws opened to finish a thing that wasn’t a person to it. That was until you swooped in, you knocked Giyu out of the way to safety and took the battle alone on your shoulders. Giyu was gravely injured and the moment he hit the ground he lost consciousness. The last thing he'd seen was the flash of the moon glinting off your chipped sword then nothing at all. When he woke up all was quiet. He’d sat up achingly quick. Blood rushed to his head making him dizzy as he searched for you. The demon you had killed was slowly dusting away in front of you. Giyu pushed to his feet and limped his way over to you, only pausing for a moment to watch your sword fall from your grasp. His breath caught in his throat. All those nightmares of his dying in front of you were in vain because your fear ricocheted to him. About fifty yards from you Giyu watched as you crumpled to the ground, still and lifeless. Giyu tripped over himself to get to you and in his haste reopened the slowly healing wounds on his body. He didn’t care, no amount of pain could stop him from reaching you. The closer he got the better he could see your weakened state. There was so much blood, your hair was stained red from the color of it.

“Hey… hey---” His voice was strained and weak, choked up from the sight of you. His hands slide on either side of your face. You felt him touch you and immediately opened your eyes. Although you looked close to the grave it turned out that after your almost hour long fight to the death that really you weren’t as bad off as it looked. You were just fucking exhausted. You smiled up at him. 

“Hey.” You breathed out and the absolute relief on Giyu’s face brought fresh tears to your eyes. 

“You scared me.” He barked, not necessarily loud but you could tell with the way he slumped down against you, hugging you tightly that your dramatic fall to the ground had his heart in his throat.

“Sorry.” You apologized, gently sitting up and wrapping your arms around him. He kissed the side of your head and pulled back, kissing your lips.

“You saved me.” He spoke against your lips. You smiled.

“Uh huh.” You mumbled, missing the press of his lips already. “Let’s get out of this damned forest.”

~

Tengen wasn’t someone that hides his feelings. In fact to the effect where it was always known that he was in love with you. That this thing you said made him laugh or the way you trained made him proud or the way you killed demons made him flush. All those factors were something you weren’t new to but still caught you off guard every time. All these compliments, his kisses and time spent with you was something you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to but… slowly you were starting to look forward to it all. He’d first kissed you after begging you to choose going on a mission with him rather than Giyu and after that any moment you two were alone things dissolved into flicked off lights, warm exploring hands and heated kisses. This had been a recurring thing for weeks with no end in sight. But neither of you wanted it to end and although Tengen was the more outspoken of the two of you, your quiet confirmation was all he needed to push you against the backs of doors and kiss you senseless. 

But that’s all you let it be. Against Tengen’s multiple attempts to make it something serious you’d just shut it down. He’d ask you to accompany him on missions but you’d say no. He’d be gone for weeks and write to you but you wouldn’t write back but the moment he’d darken your doorstep again you’d grab a fistful of his shirt and yank him inside. He could tell you missed him through the way you touched him but that’s all he had to go on. You never slipped up when it came to revealing things you kept close to your heart. Revealing how you truly felt was a well kept secret behind locks and vaults and ciphers. You were a riddle that Tengen was driving himself mad to solve. But Tengen was shameless, he didn’t care if he had to beg and plead on your closed doors because just an ounce of your attention was flashy enough for him. 

That’s why when you finally agreed to go on a mission he felt as though it was you finally giving him some ground to stand upon. And he accepted it greedily. You weren’t a Hashira like him, you were Gyomei’s tsuguko and although you wouldn’t tell Tengen this, Gyomei had asked you to accompany Tengen. Though you wouldn’t also tell anyone that you wanted to come every time he’d asked you before but wouldn’t allow yourself. It wasn’t that you were afraid of commitment because people could come and go in your life all they pleased. It was more of the fact that you already felt tenfold of what Tengen probably felt for you. You cared for him so much that it affected a lot of your training. So much so that Gyomei sent you away on this mission because of how frustrated he was hearing you mope around the house waiting for Tengen to stumble on the doorstep. You couldn’t travel together though for circumstances out of your control and when you finally made it to the entertainment district almost an all out war was being waged.

Tengen sat, unable to stand, his wives surrounding him as the poison in his blood had finally been cured thanks to Nezuko. He was one arm short and short of one girl that he’d make his wife one day. Hinata had taken the other two wives out to look for you in the rubble of the district after Inosuke had told them you had helped decapitate that female demon. But the aftershock had separated you into disappearing from the rest of the group. Tengen tried to push to his feet but held no strength in his limbs whatsoever. The pain of the fight was nothing compared to being stuck unable to look for you. Then it only got worse when he saw a flash of your hair and realized you were being carried. It was Obanai that found you, he’d got here late after all the destruction and stumbled upon you. Tengen sat up, his wounds screaming as Obanai carried you closer. You weren’t moving. He called out but his voice was strained as Obanai met with some of the medics, handing you off to them. You still didn’t move. Tengen was in absolute hell watching this. He pushed to his feet and fell back to his knees, the pain so striking it brought fresh tears to his eyes. But he persevered. He got to the medic who’d set you on a makeshift stretcher, carefully inspecting your wounds. He jumped at the sight of Tengen.

“M-Mr. Tengen!” He was startled. “Y-you should be sitting down.” Tengen dropped to his knees, he reached for your hand, it was cold in his grasp. Your face was pale, a large slashed cut stretching across your brow down the side of your face. Your uniform was stained in soot and blood. But the only thing that kept Tengen from losing his mind was the steady slow rise and fall of your chest. You were alive and you were breathing. The relief was like a punch to the stomach and it seemed the search for you was the only thing keeping him awake because the moment he realized you’d be okay Tengen fell unconscious beside you.

When he woke up he was in a room alone. He felt better, though his body still ached he pushed out of the bed. He traversed the halls of the butterfly mansion, outside he saw his wives eating, he smiled at the sight of them. He kept going, looking for one more person, one more thing he’d been craving. When he pushed open the door to the training room he felt weak in the knees. It was as though you weren’t even affected. You trained mercilessly, sword swinging expertly. You paused, turning at the sound of the door opening and met Tengen’s eyes.

“You’re awake.” You greeted, voice light. Tengen didn’t waste another damn second. He was across that room in the blink of an eye. Sweeping you up into his arms, hugging you tightly as he spun you around. “Careful!” You called out, amusement in your tone. “You’re still healing.” 

“Don’t care.” He breathed out, setting you down, arms sliding down against your waste as he and his giant body leaning into your space, lips meeting lips. 

“I care.” You mumble against his lips. He kisses you hard at that. It’s not often you expressed a liking for him outloud. 

“That’s good to hear.” He kissed past your mouth down to your neck as he hugged you tightly again, lips kissing at whatever they could find.

“Uzui.” You warned. “Lots of people walking around.”

“Don’t care.” 

“I care you big oaf.” You snap but your tone is light, still amused. Tengen raised his head.

“Come home with me and the wives.” He asks, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head.

“Hm,” You hum as he pulls back, so tall you have to crane your head to meet his eyes. “Feeling sentimental?”

“Most of the time, yes.” He answers simply. “I want you. I want to be with you, I want you home with me. Please… say yes this time.” He can tell you’re thinking about it so he lowers his head and presses another kiss to your forehead, sweet and tender.

~

Hotaru first kissed you a few months back. It was a startling and confusing moment. You’d traveled to his village for a new sword scared out of your mind because you’d broken a sword. You stupidly asked a competitor of his to fix it, hoping to save yourself from his wrath. But Hotaru caught you in the act and instead of being outwardly angry… he kissed you. And this simple act changed everything. It changed how you perceived all your interactions after that day. His competitor had referred to you as Hotaru’s favorite and you hadn’t been able to wipe that from your mind since. You hadn’t seen him since the kiss and you tossed and turned almost every night since just trying to make sense of the moment if there was any sense to be found. Maybe he’d kissed you to shut you up. Maybe he kissed you in a polite way? Like a thanks for keeping him in business kind of kiss? No… that kiss was anything but polite. It was hot. All consuming. It was everything you didn’t expect to come from the man who struck fear in all demon slayers. So despite your better judgment you used the little bit of time off that you had to trudge back to his village. You told everyone you were going there to relax before your new mission but in reality it was to solve the mystery of why he kissed you and why you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Hotaru lived on the outskirts of the village. A bit of a walk from everyone else’s house, It was like he was the town pariah or something. It was dark when you spotted the glow of his parted curtains, his chimney puffing out smoke. It was the dead of winter so you were chilled to the bone, not only at the fact you were about to speak to him after months of silence but also because of the damn snow storm you trekked through to get here. 

As you got to his door you blew out a breath and knocked. But just as you lowered your hand you heard something. A rustle, the movement of steps in the snow. You turned, surveying the area. Maybe a villager kid had followed you up here, interested in the girl that had come to talk to the town's scary ghost. Your eyes scanned the trees as the door opened. You didn’t turn back and that’s when you spotted it, lumbering through the trees, blood dripping into the snow. You turned back, hand flying to your sword. Hotaru stood in the doorway unaware of two things. Why you were here and why you pushed him back and closed the door in his face.

“Stay inside!” You called out to him, your sword in your hand at the ready as the demon busted through the trees towards you. 

The thing was viscous and obviously starving as its jaws opened and latched onto your shoulder. You screamed in pain, hitting it back and slashing violently across the length of its stomach. It was hard to maneuver in your layers of thick winter clothes but you mostly made it work. You fought the demon back away from Hotaru’s house, it’s bloodlust like that of a rabid animal. It snarled and growled and slashed at you, slashing up your clothes and your face. When you were finally able to get the upper hand you wasted no time slicing it’s head from its shoulders. It crumpled into dust and fire, blowing away with the wind. You blew out an exhausted breath, leaning heavily against a tree near you. So much for relaxing. You jolted at the sound of Hotaru’s voice as he called out for you near the treeline. You sighed, pushing off the tree, trudging towards his voice through the snow. 

“That was one tough bastard.” You said as you spotted him. You must’ve looked worse than you felt because Hotaru stumbled his way towards you rather ungracefully. “Careful,” You said as he approached, slamming against you in a tight hug. You gasped in surprise, winded by the force of his body slamming into yours. He hugged the life out of you. Hugged you so tightly you wondered if he was trying to kill you. “It’s okay-- I’m fine.” You breathed out and still he didn’t let up. 

“I heard you scream. I couldn’t find you.” He spoke into your hair, tightening his hold on you just barely. 

“Yeah, it bit me.” You answered nonchalantly. Hotaru pulled back, anger on his face. You sucked in a breath at the look on his face.

“What were you thinking!” He growls, turning and pulling you gently towards his house, despite the anger in his voice he handled you with care. 

“What?” You stuttered.

“You scared the hell outta me.” He says, throwing open his door and pulling you into the warmth of his house. He guides you to the kitchen. “Strip.” He commands and you do as told, kicking off your snow boots and peeling off your layers of clothes, careful around the stinging bite on your shoulder. Hotaru gathered some things, slamming things left and right. You were speechless, his reaction to you saving him was something you weren’t expecting. When he grabbed all he needed he dropped into the seat next to you and you turned to face him.

“Are you mad that I saved you?” You asked and watched his brows furrow. You sighed out heavily, almost exhaustedly. Both his hands slid against your cheeks and in another surprising twist he kissed you. He kissed you so softly and tenderly it had your stomach turning in knots. This man was loud, he was angry most of the time and every single slayer and villager was scared at the mere thought of him. But he was different when he kissed you, it had your entire body lightening on fire. You absentmindedly tried to wrap your arms around the back of his neck only for that bite on your shoulder to remind you with white hot pain. You gasped, sucking in a breath as Hotaru pulled back. He didn’t waste a second placing a rag over the wound, soaking up some of the blood. 

“I’m not angry you saved me.” He said after a moment. “Just mad you got hurt.” 

“I get hurt all the time.” You answer lightly, hoping for some humility but Hotaru doesn’t crack a smile. “It’s just part of being a Hashira.” His gentle hands are patching up your shoulder and he doesn’t say anything for a few long seconds. Once he’s finished he gets up, grabbing a blanket, wrapping it around you to warm you up. He sets back down and pulls your chair closer to his. Your nerves spike at the closeness. 

“You didn’t come all this way for a broken sword right?” He asks, your breath catches as you shake your head. 

“My sword’s fine.” 

“That’s good to hear.” He says, reaching a hand up to tuck your hair back out of your face. “Didn’t visit my competitor first this time?” It’s weird to see him joke but you find yourself relaxing.

“No. I came straight here.” You answer and his hand lingers on your cheek.

“Thanks for saving my life.” He says.

“You’re welco-” He cuts you off with a press of his lips against yours.

[limethefirst]

Hellooo, i hope your having a beautiful day. I saw your requests are open and that you wrote for movie shadow once. Would it be okay if maybe i requested movie shadow x a reader who prehaps eggmans niece. Maybe then when its just shadow, stone and her on the crab prehaps she takes shadow to her room on the crab and trys to play and show him some of her stuff not scared of him. Then maybe she remind him of maria 🥹? Idk i have sonic brainrot after seeing the movie today lol and ive had this idea since.

Do I look like her?

pairings: Shadow the Hedgehogs x reader (platonic)

warnings: sonic 3 spoilers

summary: as the niece of Eggman you are left behind on the crab with Shadow as the men finish their mission, but every time Shadow looks at you he sees someone else.

a/n: hii thank you so much for the request! I’ve been wanting to write more Sonic 3 fics because I love the movie so much! I hope this is to your liking and you have an amazing day!!!

You watched your uncle Robotnik and Gerald walked away together, planning to sneak into GUN and steal the final keycard they needed, leaving you, Stone and Shadow.

“I have avocados in The Crab. Let’s go make guac!” Stone chimed, both you and Shadow turned your head to look at him.

“Revenge guac.” Shadow responded, his brows furrowed watching as Stone slowly helped you back into the sewer drain.

You were warned about Shadow, he was dangerous Robotnik had told you. Robotnik was somewhat caring when it came to you, he wasn’t harsh nor rude, he saw you as a responsibility but not a burden. He was kinder around you, maybe he saw a bit of himself, being all alone in a world that tended to abandon.

Whatever it was, you knew his warnings were usually right, but having been around the hedgehog for a while you honestly didn’t believe your uncle. Shadow, although seemed tough, you could tell there was more behind the persona and all the walls he’d put up.

Stone walked over to the island in the middle of the Crab, preparing the avocados for the guacamole he planned to make.

You took the opportunity to show Shadow around. Being the youngest of the bunch you didn’t have many friends and this was a chance to make a new one.

Quickly you walked in front of Shadow, a bright smile on your face highlighting the innocence in all your features, it was eerily reminiscent of someone.

“Come, I wanna show you around!” You told Shadow, grabbing his gloved hand unannounced, making him slightly more on guard. Stone looked up from the guac he was currently working on, he seemed happy; smiling at the two kids.

Shadow didn’t say much as you dragged him to your room, he just looked at you. Watching as your hand gripped onto his, he couldn’t help but hold on as well. Fearing that if he let go he may never find it again.

As he watched you near the closed door, he couldn’t help but take in all that you were, your demeanor, your way of speaking, your bright attitude, it was just like hers.

“This is my room!” Your hand started letting go of his but his grip only tightened. You looked down at his hand and back up at him as his eyes scanned the small room. You only smiled at his gesture, not feeling the need to point it out.

As you guided him around still hand in hand you saw his eyes checking every corner of the room, “It’s small,”

Your sudden laugh catches him off guard, his head quickly turning to see your free hand covering your mouth, “Sorry sorry! It’s just that’s the first thing you say to me?” You jokingly tell the hedgehog.

He watches you for a little bit longer, his eyes widening. As he stares up at you, all he sees is her. It wasn’t physical, it wasn’t that you looked like Maria, no not at all, it was the fact your personality towards him resembled her so much.

You weren’t afraid, you approached him and didn’t see him as a weapon or some type of lab rat. It was like he was really a person around you, like he was capable of caring again.

Shadow didn’t say much, and that was okay, you could do most of the talking anyway, you enjoyed being able to finally talk to someone.

You sat Shadow down on the floor, letting go of his hand so you could show him some of the toys and games you owned, knowing he lived 50 years in the past you wanted to keep him up to date on all the newer stuff that had come up. While you were grabbing some items you decided to also play a movie, it would be cool to show him the new films they’d come out with.

He silently watched you hurry around the room, dropping strange toys onto him. He felt some weird string toys get stuck in his quills.

You heard him rustle around, seeing him pull out your worm on a string, “Very colorful,” he grunted, as he tossed the toy in the pile in front of him.

All you did was smile as you sat in front of him, describing each toy and how they worked, as the latest Godzilla movie played in the background.

It was ironic really, back then Godzilla was a monster and now he was a friend protecting the people from the other monsters.

He no longer sat with Maria watching movies and playing games, now he sat with you. Oh how things really have changed.

[brittle-doughie]

Love the idea of Ancients/Beasts with a long lost lover reader cookie, how would said Ancients/Beasts react when they meet their spouse again? (lol not exes cus there ain't no divorce paper but several decades distance is probably make them pretty sour with each other. unless you'd like to make it that way? love it too more juicy dramas)

Preferably reader who's a regular common cookie + extra long live span just bc

Immortal Y/N Cookie maybe?

Honestly, there WILL be drama regardless of whether divorce was issued or not. Waiting EONS since you’ve last seen the Heroes, you pondered on if it was possible you’d see them again.

You try to rationalize that they, before the corruption, would’ve wanted you to move on. In case they turned evil and could never go back to how it once was.

Then you meet the Ancients, Cookies that…reminded you of the Beasts. It took many years, but things would eventually blossom and eventually start to see them romantically.

The Beasts, when they break out, are of course upset with you. You didn’t have the loyalty to wait for them as LONG as they have for you?

Burning Spice would want to destroy everything and everyone you loved, so that you’ll only have him left.

Shadow Milk will make everyone dislike you by spreading lies with truths that support them further. They may not like you for who you really are, but he would.

Eternal Sugar will trap everyone in her vines, keeping them in eternal slumber. Why be happy with them when you can be happy with her amidst the clouds?

Silent Salt will just cut through everyone in their way. Any Cookie not strong enough to withstand their blade, well, they didn’t deserve to love you anyway.

Mystic Flour wanted you and her to spend your days in a world of white, a world that only the two of you will share. You’ll start to cough and feel sick, falling under her curse. She doesn’t care if she hurts anyone with this decision, she’ll be gone too to even think of that…

[coquettepascal]

frosted kisses

pt. ii to texas sweet

summary: after some serious distance, a nightmarish evening at the miller household leaves you and joel closer than before.

tags: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, fingering, pulling out, missionary, almost oral, joel is a consent king, gentle!joel, soft!joel, proud dad joel returns, tommy is here, so are sarah and ellie, don't ask how old they are i really can't tell you, tension, sexual tension, kind of angst(?), realistic sex, reader is in a panic as usual, but joel is really sweet, kissing, neck kisses, biting, scratching, mention of joel's dad gut (yum), joel in a wifepleaser, use of darlin' and baby and honey, one use of good girl, praise kink (a little), takes place during july (texas sweet was in june)

a/n: thank you to my biggest cheerleaders @mochamadeleines and @pascalssbabyy <3 also thank you to everyone for being so patient for this sequel. i hope you all enjoy !! :]

texas sweet masterlist and my masterlist

wc: 7.6k (sorry :3)

It is way too hot outside to be doing anything but laying in an ice bath, yet here you are leaving at 9am for your shift. The walk to the bus stop isn’t bad, but it does mean you have to walk by Joel’s house.

Joel.

He never followed through on that promise of taking you out for dinner, but it’s only been a month since that night. The two of you had been friendly in passing, since it’s hard to avoid one another, but you can see the avoidance in his eyes. A little while ago you looked up when “neighbours day” was, remembering how he said to let him know. But, it turns out that’s all the way in May, and it’s currently July… So. 

So you’ve been avoiding each other a little. That’s fine, it was a weird situation for the two of you to find yourselves in. You stared at Joel’s grey-blue truck when it rolled back down the street that night, the headlights flashing yellow on your walls. The hand resting on your chin still smelled like him, like his dick. 

Honestly, everything on you smelled like him for a little while, your shirt especially, but also your skin. Joel wouldn’t leave you alone, even though he physically was. Watching him from your window started to become an obsession, seeing the sweat soak through his t-shirt when he’d mow the lawn on the weekends. You couldn’t stop watching him, remembering how needy he was.

Your achy need for him was a constant at night, only competing for dominance over your mind by wondering how needy Joel was.

Nothing could drive the memory of his whimpers and groans out of your mind, the throb of his cock in your hand, and the way his hands twitched and grasped at nothing when he came. It would attack you at random times throughout the day, especially when you were on the bus coming home from work. Most of your days are boring, repetitive. The same texts from your mom, the same job, the same… everything. Joel was the most exciting thing for you, but that was short lived. It was just one evening.

It’s kind of fucked up how you just have to move on, sweaty palmed every morning as you pass by Joel’s house. It isn’t even like he’s home when you walk by, he starts work at around 8am. You would know because Tommy’s truck is noisy as all hell, it works great as a last minute alarm. 

Or at least he isn’t usually home. 

“Mornin’ darlin,” calls Joel as you step off your porch. 

His voice is just as warm and sweet as ever, like the sun today if it were kinder, but there’s an extra cheerful lilt in it. Turning your head, you see Joel still in his pajamas. It’s a weekday, so that’s odd, but what’s more odd is that he’s hanging balloons outside. 

A light grey wife pleaser stretches around his torso, showing off his thick arms and shoulders. This is not something you’ve seen Joel wear before, but he must have slept in it if the plaid pajama pants are anything to go by. 

It’s the polite thing to do to go over there and say hello, right? That’s what your mom would want you to do, to be neighborly. You’re not going over there to check him out. That would be crazy.

Crossing the grass from your house to his is easy, but spit is all caught in your throat by the time you get over to him. Jesus, are you drooling? 

“Hi Joel,” you manage to reply to his greeting as he tapes another balloon up to the overhang of his garage, “what are the balloons for?”

He grunts as he twists to fix the tape, the balloon nearly falling on his head. The way he’s stretching up is making the wife pleaser stretch up, exposing the skin of his waist. Your fingers twitch, wanting to touch there again. It makes your mind spin, thinking about how your hands have been there, that he knows what it’s like to have you on him. An explicit secret that neither of you share. You wish he was facing the other way so you could see his tummy, the plushness of it was so comfy against your arm.

“S’for Sarah,” he finally responds, turning to face you. 

And oh… oh that’s why he’s so damn happy. He had talked about it in passing a few times during the small talk you had made. Sarah’s birthday was in July and she planned on coming home for it, Joel was so bright everytime he talked about it. His smile is so much bigger when he talks about his daughters.

“Is she coming home today?” You ask, shifting on your feet. Joel nods, tearing off another piece of tape with his teeth.

“Uh-huh, pickin’ her up around noon. We’re doin’ a dinner tonight,” he says. You can see how his eyes are a little unfocused, excited. He sticks the tape to the knot of the balloon and starts to continue his sentence, but is cut off by the front door opening.

The sound catches your attention, your eyes flicking to the door. You didn’t see his truck in the driveway, but there’s Tommy Miller in all his glory.

You won’t lie to yourself, the Miller family clearly has good genetics. Tommy’s got these gorgeous waves in his black hair, and a charming smile too. But, he isn’t nearly as soft as Joel is. Not a player, but Joel’s been worn in by 2 daughters and a divorce, like a well loved plushie. Tommy hasn’t been worn in by anything, in fact he’s known for wearing things out. As much as you’ve heard the whispers at neighborhood events, the other Miller brother has never interested you. Tommy, of course, has shown interest in you once or twice. A few bottles in and he’ll talk to anything.

Today though, Tommy is behaving. He flashes you a kind smile, and nods.

“Hey neighbor-girl,” he greets.

You almost snort. You know Tommy knows your name, but he’s being weird. Did Joel tell him? Probably not. Do brothers share that sort of information? You’re getting sweaty again–

“Saw the flowers y’bought Ole Joel,” Tommy grins, “thought maybe his ex’d dropped by.”

Oh. Oh thank god. Thank god the flowers gave it away.

Joel snorts and then scowls at Tommy, shaking his head. He mutters something about you “having a name,” and suddenly all you can hear is the blood in your veins. A hot rush flies over you, but you’re flushed from the sun anyways. What difference will a blush make? It’s not that obvious. 

Distracted with your anxiety around the two, you barely realize that Tommy is scolding Joel now.

“S’nice girl gave you flowers and y’ain’t even invited her to the dinner tonight?” Tommy scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. Your eyes flash to his arms and Jesus does being brothers mean you’re both built as fuck? 

“Tommy,” Joel says, voice tight, “I was midway through a conversation with’er. Was just about to.”

They exchange a look you can’t really decipher. Tommy raises his eyebrows and Joel curls his lip in response. Then, Tommy turns on his heel and goes back in the house.

The heat outside is already uncomfortable, but now you feel awkward. You didn’t realize that Joel would invite you to something. Maybe he didn’t even want to, he just didn’t want to look like an asshat in front of Tommy. Joel looks sheepish in his pajamas, downturned frown neutralizing to a softer smile. He breathes in to speak, but now you don’t want his invite.

“Joel,” you say quietly, “you don’t have to invite me. I’d hate to intrude on your family time with Sarah.” 

You really thought that you’d want to speak to Joel after all this time, but this feels humiliating. A pity invite to his daughter’s birthday dinner? It’s not what you expected, or wanted. As much as you’d like to see Sarah, something about it feels wrong. What would you say?

“Hey, it's been awhile. How’s college been? Good! Aw, I’m glad. Yeah last time I saw your dad I jerked him off. Oh, you’re in STEM?”

No, that’s not what you want. He looks like he’s going to protest, but you have to shut him down. You’ve never really spoken to his other daughter, Ellie. It feels like a nightmare waiting to happen.

“I’m just your neighbor,” you wave your hand, as if you could make this go away.

Joel’s brows furrow, his mustache curling back downwards with his frown. Skittishly, his eyes flick away.

“I… I’d like it if y’came. Even if we’re just neighbors,” Joel says. He seems embarrassed about inviting you, a red hue glowing beneath the sweat on his neck. 

Alone, in front of the garage, it feels like he’s under you again. Why is he so shy? So bashful? Something in you is frustrated. You’ve been waiting for a month for any scraps, anything more than neighborly chit-chat, and now you have to turn him down. Doesn’t he realize you’ve been waiting for him? 

You don’t want to be just neighbors with this Joel, you want more. You want to know him more than just as “hot-single-dad-next-door.”

You want to know him the way you did when you were behind him on the couch.

But… Maybe this is Joel. You saw the pictures all over his house, and he runs a company with his brother. Family is clearly everything to him, and even if this isn’t a dinner-date like he promised, this is something more. It’s closer for him, this is his own version of pulling you in.

Besides, your mom would want you to say yes. It’s polite, right?

You concede to Joel’s wishes, as much as you want something else. He smiles really big when you agree, a shy “okay” leaving you. It’s not like you could ignore him anyways, not with the way his wife pleaser is stretched around him so… pleasingly.

He tells you that there’s a colour theme of black and blue, since Sarah wants everyone to match in the pictures. Joel starts to blab about what a good photographer she is, but you actually shut him down this time, so as to not miss your bus.

—

Somehow, standing on Joel’s porch is a lot worse than last time. You don’t have a bunch of flowers for your neighborly crush, or a set of hands to ease his back. All you have is the guilt in your gut for showing up at his daughter’s birthday dinner. 

It took you almost 45 minutes to pick an outfit. He mentioned blue and black, but didn’t mention what shade of blue. Everything you had felt either too dressy, or was literally pajamas. Eventually you found something that worked, but now you’re in your own head. Will Joel think this is nice? Does Joel even think you’re pretty in the first place? You can’t remember, your mind is blanking. 

Jesus, chill out. You’re going over for dinner, and this isn’t even about you. 

Swallowing the saliva in your mouth, you knock.

“I’ll get it!!” A voice yells from inside. Not Joel’s.

Tommy grins at you after he swings open the door. He’s done his hair back, instead of tying it back, and he’s wearing a blue and black, plaid, flannel. The Miller brothers seem to have a flannel for every occasion. 

“Well helloo Neighbor-Girl,” Tommy greets. His smile is devious as he stands in the doorway. 

Loud footsteps rush up behind Tommy and he’s suddenly being yanked out of your view by a hand. 

“Christ, Tommy, leave’er alone.” Joel grunts.

He isn’t wearing a flannel, which surprises you. His usual casual clothes have been replaced by a nice, black, western shirt. The stitching across the chest is done in black as well. Not unlike Tommy, is his slicked back hair. It’s short still, but it looks good pushed back. 

He tells you to keep your shoes on as he leads you to the backyard. You can’t keep your eyes off him as he and Tommy walk ahead of you. That black shirt, stretched across his back, the curls that lick upwards where his hair isn’t slicked. God, he looks stupidly good.

The house looks about the same. Same couch where you jerked him off, same table where the flowers used to sit, same pictures of his family on the walls. Everything feels different. Why doesn’t it look different?

Finally your eyes reach the backyard, and it looks magical. Various lights have been set up to create a relaxed atmosphere, with some comfortable lawn furniture set up on the deck. The barbecue is clearly cooking something, and Tommy walks to it automatically. 

Sarah and Ellie seem to be giggling to themselves, hunched over in secrecy. The sisters whisper to one another, but part once they see you.

“Hi,” Ellie says immediately, her bright eyes looking at you excitedly. You greet her in return, then wish Sarah a happy birthday.

She’s wearing a matching shirt to Joel’s, which is adorable. You know for a fact that Joel wouldn’t dress up past a button up or flannel for most occasions, meaning Sarah probably begged him for this. Even the wash of their jeans are the same. 

You’re just about to strike up a conversation with the two girls when Joel comes up behind you and squeezes your upper arm gently.

“‘M sittin’ over there, if you’d like to join,” he motions to an outdoor couch identical to the one Sarah and Ellie are sitting on.

It’s close enough that you could go back to talking with the girls, but once you’ve sat down beside Joel, they’re back to giggling. 

—

It feels like everybody knows.

This fear from earlier has manifested in front of your eyes, this awful anxiety growing. You could barely finish your food, even though it was delicious. Your mouth is dry all the time, you can’t stop drinking water. You hyperfocus on every little action you take, feeling crazy,

Tommy has been staring at you like he’s holding a secret, his eyes seem to say “I know something you don’t,” and every time you turn your back Sarah and Ellie are giggling again. For them, you try to cut some slack. Ellie is a teen, and Sarah isn’t a lot older than her, they’re young girls, of course they’re giggling. It’s Tommy who’s making you anxious, especially with the scolding scowls that Joel keeps sending him. 

The conversations are fine once you stop eating, mostly with you listening and observing the dynamic in the family. Tommy talks about this recent client he and Joel have been working with as you all eat cake, but it’s hard to focus when it feels like everybody knows what you did.

Joel seems to notice this anxiety over the course of the night, looking at you with mild concern a few times. He even asks if you’re alright at some point, holding the “darlin” for once, and you just tell him you had a rough day at work. Total lie, the only rough thing about this day is how you feel like you’re going to throw up all your food anytime someone in his family starts to perceive you.

Later in the evening, Joel rests his hand on your knee when he reaches for his beer, and you flinch. He seems caught off guard by this, but luckily nobody else notices. His eyes are apologetic as he looks at you, all brown and sappy.

Shame is burning in your veins. He’s invited you here to spend this special night with his daughter and family. He's been so kind to feed you too, but now you’ve made him feel weird too. It feels like your anxiety is leaking out of your pores, a haze of guilt clouding your mind and flooding his. Joel hasn’t seemed bothered at all tonight, or at least he hasn’t shown it. 

But there he is, accommodating you as he leans a little closer and asks;

“S’gettin’ late. I could walk y’home.”

There he is, there’s your Joel. Your Joel, the one who you know as a caring man. In any other situation this would feel like someone politely requesting you leave the party early, but not with Joel. He’s conscious of your emotions, and he can tell you’re too overwhelmed to be here anymore. There’s your sweet boy, reeling you in before it gets to be too much.

You only nod in response.

It’s a few more minutes before you get out of there, with Tommy and Ellie stacking copious amounts of leftovers for you onto paper plates, lidding them with tin foil. You use this time to talk a little with Sarah, asking about her time in college. She’s happy to share with you, and you can see Joel in her. She has the welcoming energy, the same warmth in her that pools in her eyes. Even without the outfits they would match. 

Ellie, however, must be spending too much time with Tommy. They both wear shit eating grins as they hand you the stack of plates stuffed with leftovers, with Tommy asking you to “Come back anytime.”

Blood rushes to your face fast, and you toddle off to the door quickly after saying thank you.

—

The air on the porch is cooler, but your adrenaline is making you run hot. You want to stop sweating, but all the looks and giggles and comments from the night are running through your mind repeatedly. What did they know? How did they know? Joel wouldn’t tell them anything like that, would he? Thank God you didn’t stay long enough to be in those pictures that Sarah wanted to take. 

The front door thuds shut a moment later. Joel’s steps fall heavy behind you, then he’s beside you. He’s barely touched you tonight, and even now he keeps his distance. You’re glad for it, you couldn’t have handled it anyways.

You both walk the short distance to your house, using the pathway rather than cutting through the grass like you usually do. It feels like you should be enjoying these extra seconds of time with him, but all you feel is embarrassed.

He breathes in the cool air of the summer night through his nose, chest puffing, then blows it out.

“I am so, so, fuckin’ sorry,” he says.

It takes you off guard immediately. You felt like you were acting crazy all night just by your own overthinking, but it was also fuelled by Joel’s non-chalantness about everything. He didn’t seem to notice anything all night but you and how anxious you were. This feels like the start of a conversation, so you put the leftovers down on the bottom step of your porch. 

“I– Ellie, when I brought her home after you were over last,” he begins, “she got home and saw the flowers right away. I told her not to make nothin’ of it, but she went and rattled off to Sarah and Tommy.”

Oh, okay. It was just the flowers. That’s good, at least they think you’re a lovesick loser, rather than the neighborhood floozy. 

“I told them to act right tonight, begged’em to. The three of’em have been torturing me about it, I think it’s why I avoided you,” Joel admits quietly. 

He’s doing it again, soothing your worries without meaning to. He’s a cooling balm on your burning brain, a sense of sanity cleansing you. 

Joel wasn’t ashamed of what happened between you two, his family was just being shitstirrers about him receiving flowers. It wasn’t on purpose, and most importantly–

“I’m really sorry, angel. I should have called or– or somethin. Askin’ you to come tonight was askin’ for trouble from them. My daughter’s birthday ain’t makin’ up for shit, ‘specially not when they’re actin’ like that.”

An apology. Joel Miller seemed like a solid man before, one that was dependable, polite, and kind, but now he seems near-perfect. He’s taking accountability, admitting how he acted and why, and apologizing. No wonder he has two incredible daughters, both of whom love him dearly. 

You stand there for a minute, a little speechless. You can’t remember a time that a man apologized to you and seemed to really mean it, or at least understand what he did wrong. But there’s Joel, in his black western shirt that’s rolled up his thick forearms, eyes soft and sorry as he looks at you in the blue-black night. He’s not like any man you’ve met before, not like your dad, friends back home, or your ex-boyfriend. 

Tonight isn’t like any night you’ve had in Texas so far, but for so many different reasons. You’ve had a few weird nights, sure. Like what you shared with Joel, or the time you took the wrong bus home and got lost downtown, but it’s weird in a good way.

Tonight, you get to accept an apology from a man who truly seems sorry. Who’s admitted his wrongs, explained what happened, and more than that he’s been earnest about it. You didn’t have to beg for this apology, or argue why he should apologize. He did that on his own, made up his mind, and said sorry like a real man would. 

It’s hard to make up your mind on what to do though, whether you should throw yourself at him and kiss him dizzy, or to just say “It’s alright, no hard feelings.”

You settle somewhere in the middle, taking his hands into your own. Your thumb pads rest in the centre of his palms, pushing down and massaging his hands. 

“It’s okay,” you say finally, voice unsteady. 

Joel isn’t at fault for his family being devious and obviously way too interested in his love life. What he is at fault for, is avoiding you. Brave enough to apologize, pussy enough to avoid the girl he likes. You keep talking.

“I wish you would have spoken to me about this, it made me feel awkward,” you tell him.

He looks up from your joined hands then, looking at you face on. Shame is painting his features, but he’s trying to be courageous, you can tell.

There is no “I know I should have,” or “I’m sorry you felt that way.” Just his voice saying, “I’m sorry.”

No if’s, and’s, or but’s. He’s sorry without excuse or pride. 

The night air is still brisk on your skin, but Joel is warm everywhere. If you laid a hand onto his cheek you would feel hot flesh burning you back. His eyes flit from your own for a moment, decisive. 

“I’d really, really, like to have dinner with you sometime. I know tonight was a disaster, so I won’t be offended if y’say no, but… I wanna make this up to you.”

This feels so much realer than last time, like he’s gripping your heart in his hand and squeezing as it beats. Joel isn’t just saying this in passing after he’s come in your hand, he’s not awkward and politely asking to return a favor. Joel wants this, wants you, wants to have dinner with you. It probably should have occurred to you when he invited you to his daughter’s birthday dinner, but it’s only hitting you right now. No more pity invites, he wants this. 

Joel Miller wants this, he wants you, and he’s standing there with your hands in his, with his stupid soft eyes and with his heart on the line. He’s beautiful right now, standing with you as sorry as he can be. You’ll let him have this, he’s asking for it himself. Joel’s being so much braver this time around.

“I think we could do that,” you reply quietly.

His shoulders relax, brow unfurrowing. You can see the relief flood over him instantly, and he looks beautiful then too. 

It’s easy from there. Joel’s voice is so soft when he’s grateful, quiet as he thanks and arranges a date-night with you. The two of you decide that a night in would be fine, since Joel ends up working late pretty often. You’re fine with this, and would honestly rather have him to yourself anyways. No more prying eyes when you’re with him, no more over-bearing perceptions that make your brain fizzle out with anxiety. Just you and Joel. 

Admittedly, this silly crush on Joel began at a pretty surface level. Not shallow, but all you knew about him was that he was a hot dad and a nice guy. Now, though? Now he’s proven himself, shown you that there’s something in him that you can reach for. Everything’s bigger in Texas, but so far it’s only made you feel small. Being around Joel hushes you, like a kiss to a scrape. You want to know him deeper. 

He squeezes your hands, then drops them so you can pick up your leftovers. You feel a little shy turning your back to him as you make it up to your door, but then he speaks.

“You looked real pretty tonight, angel, more’n usual.”

You hope he can’t hear the squeak you make when the door shuts behind you.

—

It’s a few days later, and Joel is supposed to be coming soon. He warned that he’s been working late recently, that he probably won’t be off work until eight that evening. You don’t care, you made him dinner. 

It’s sitting in the kitchen, ready to be rewarmed when he gets to your house. It’s 8:30 now, he should be here soon. You’re tucked away on the couch, settled after recooling the house with your air conditioner. To be honest it should be illegal to cook during summers like this. You sweated so much you thought about taking another shower, but it wouldn’t have helped.

Besides, Joel’s showing up to your house in probably 10 minutes, sweaty and gross from work. It won’t be like you’re any grosser in comparison.

As predicted, he does show up ten minutes later. His hair is a mess and he smells like hard work, but it doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters when he’s in your doorway, toeing off his boots, and asking how your day was. Joel’s eyes keep shyly meeting yours as you lead him to your living room and turn to face him. He’s nervous, clearly, but it’s sweet. You’re both out of your element again, this time in your house instead.

Joel’s eyes flit around the room when he’s avoiding your eyes, taking in your home similar to how you did his when you were there not so long ago. You wonder what he’s thinking, hoping he doesn’t find you to be boring. He keeps clenching and unclenching his fists and laughing nervously, and you keep watching how his adam's apple bobs in his throat, and how he vibrates with his laughter. He looks puppylike in the soft light of your home, brown eyes glistening.

“Are you hungry?” You ask him, tilting your head upwards. He looks so huge in your little space.

Joel nods sheepishly, and so you lead him into the kitchen.

—

They say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and maybe Joel is the reason they say that. He groaned his way through dinner, with his eyes rolled back and compliments flying off his tongue when he wasn’t chewing. He listened to every word you said intently, taking his time with the food you had made. It had taken almost 40 minutes for him to finish that plate of food, and you saw just earlier that week how fast he could pound back a meal.

He’s savoring you with this silent praise you’ve never experienced.

And now he’s sat beside you on the couch, arm around your shoulders, and you’re snuggled back into him. The remote seems like a prop as you use it, aimlessly scrolling through a streaming service for a movie. Your thumbs are just rubbing over the rubber buttons now, your eyes focused on how his chest rises and falls. 

“I really don’t mind what you wanna watch, baby,” He says.

His voice seems so much nicer up close like this, when his face is just above yours and you’re beside him. 

“Or we don’t have to watch anything at all, we can just talk.”

How are you supposed to control yourself around him? How can he just walk into your home and fit right into your space, and look that good and be so warm? It feels like your bones are fighting against your skin to move, like the blood in your veins is yearning to jump rope. Joel is turning you on in a way you didn’t think possible, in a way where he’s never touched you, but you need him all at once. He’s softening the both of you.

It’s the middle of the hottest July of your entire life, but you’ve never felt warmer than right now.

“I’m sorry, was that weird? I jus’ like to hear you talk an–” Fuck he’s so nervous. Why is he so nervous? You want him loose and pliant again, like he was on the couch. 

“You should kiss me,” you blurt out. 

It’s funny how this is not the most insane thing you’ve suggested. The first crazy thing you suggested was “helping” him out with his boner when you went to his house on father’s day. 

Still, Joel is surprised. 

“You think so? I jus’ ate, I probably taste like food,” he says it like it’s an excuse.

You shift your body so you can face him better, chin tilted up so you can see his face. He’s not blushing, but he does seem surprised. This is much different than the embarrassed girl he walked home not even a week ago.

“Joel, I’m sure. I just– I don’t know, I’m sorry,” you bumble out.

He’s shaking his head, eyebrows pinched in that stupid way that makes his eyes look like a baby animals. 

“No, no, baby, it’s alright I’m just gross from work and I…” He drops eye contact with you. 

“I don’t want you to think that all I want from you is physical. You’re beautiful in a lot more ways than that.”

Fuck this guy, seriously. He’s so nervous, and clearly still thinks he’s fumbling this. Your bones are still vibrating, you’re so close to jumping out of your skin and into his. 

“Joel you’re incredible too, but I just really need you to kiss me,” you breathe. 

He seems to get it then. You clearly have deeper feelings, but after so long apart, and that disaster with his family, you’re pent up. Joel knows he’s kept you waiting long enough.

His first kiss is hesitant, just a small one that ends in a mumbled apology.

“S’been awhile,” he excuses before going back in.

And from there, it escalates. He’s controlled in his kisses, and seems to be avoiding tongue kissing you. Joel’s hesitancy from eating earlier is there, and you appreciate the courtesy. He makes it up though, when you push him further back on the couch and slide into his lap, arms looped around his neck.

Kisses are dotted from your lips, down your chin, and to the soft skin of your neck, where his mouth nips and kisses gently. Your hands are in his hair as you roll your head back, wanting to allow him however much space he needs to kiss you. There’s no hesitancy for either of you to be quiet, with him groaning as he smothers your neck in kisses, and you whining as he finds your sensitive points. 

It only takes a few ruts of your hips against his for him to be asking you if you want to go upstairs. He’s out of breath beneath you, cheeks flushed, and you can feel how hard he’s gotten.

“Y-yeah, my room,” you agree weakly, sliding off his lap.

Joel can barely keep his hands off you as you scamper up the stairs, grasping at your thighs and laughing softly when you squeak. 

It feels so juvenile, the way he grabs for you as soon as you enter your room. His lips are back on yours even as you try to tug up his shirt and he shakes his head slightly. 

“You first, I have a lot to make up for,” he mumbles, nodding his head towards the bed.

He undresses you once you’ve laid down, with eyes that drag over you in awe and pure attraction. Joel doesn’t mind your plain cotton undies, or the hairs that poke out the front. It’s sweet and homelike, it’s normal. 

He kisses where your hip bone is, murmuring into the fabric that covers it. 

“I really want to eat you out, beautiful. Is that okay with you?”

For the first time in this entire evening, his voice seems to sober you rather than intoxicate you more. Your lungs finally catch up with the rest of you, and you can breathe enough to get some actual oxygen into your brain, so you can think.

Obviously the answer should be yes, but you don’t feel totally comfortable with that yet. You’re not someone who prefers to be shaven, it’s inconvenient, but your bush is a little much even for you right now. On top of that, you’ve been sweating like crazy all day, so you don’t even wanna know what it’s like down there. And if you don’t wanna know what it’s like, then you don’t want Joel to know what it’s like, even if he really wants to.

So you shake your head.

Perfect boy he is, Joel nods and says “that’s alright, baby, thank you for bein’ honest,” as he slides back up your body after placing one more kiss on your hip bone. 

You are okay with him lifting your shirt off, and then unclipping your bra. He palms at your breasts lovingly, kissing them all over and lapping at your nipples. All of his touches are so gentle, but stupidly impactful. He seems to know that you don’t want this to be rough, that you enjoy his sweetness. He’s understanding you without even trying, and it feels like you’re being loved for the first time.

Joel is being careful in a way that doesn’t make you feel like you’re being overdramatic, or fragile. He’s watching your movements so he can do this right, but at the same time you’re getting impatient.

“Joel,” you pant as he sucks your nipple back into his mouth, “Joel, take your clothes off, please?”

He’s stupidly excited as he scrambles off your bed, tugging his jeans down and almost getting caught in his shirt when he pulls it off wrong. Joel touches his boxers and then looks at you with questioning eyes. This is where he hesitates.

“We can turn the lights off,” you offer gently. 

You remember his hesitancy on the couch, how he didn’t want you to look at him, to see him. It doesn’t matter if it’s dark in your room when this happens, so long as it’s him in the bed with you.

Joel turns and shuts the lights off, plunging the room into darkness for a moment before your eyes adjust. In another moment, you feel him on top of you again, his warm skin touching yours. It’s very lucky you cracked your window open earlier, so now your bedroom has become a manageable temperature. 

He’s comfortable on top of you, with his plush tummy pressing against the softness of your own. Your legs tangle as you struggle to strip your undies off, and you give up when they get caught around your ankle. His nose is pressed to your cheek as he just hovers above you for a second. 

“I know I said this earlier, but it really has been a long time,” he admits quietly. 

It shouldn’t warm your heart the way it does, but the idea of him not sharing himself with anyone for so long until you… it’s special. 

“That’s okay. Are you okay?” You ask.

He nods, from what you can feel, and then pulls back onto his knees. Joel isn’t totally visible in the light of your room, but he’s still gorgeous from what you can tell. The pouch of his tummy is so cute, so real, and you hope that you can bite it one day.

“I’m just going to prep you a little, is that okay darlin?” Joel says carefully, trailing a hand down your thigh.

Maybe from the outside this looks like two awkward people having sex, or maybe even like you don’t want each other at all. It sounds like there’s so much hesitancy in the room, but it’s not like that. The two of you are just reassuring one another, Joel to you because he was gone for so long, and you to him because it’s been so long for him. 

So it isn’t awkward, when he plunges his finger into you. He starts with one, gentle as ever, and works up to three very slowly. Joel leans down to your cheek and murmurs the nicest things to you, telling you how nice you feel, thanking you for being so kind to him.

“So patient with me, baby. Don’t know why you are, but it’s so kind,” he says quietly as he curls his fingers in you. They feel so much bigger than your own, but they fit fine. Fuller than you’re used to, but fulfilled in a new way. The feeling chokes your breath and all you can do is whimper softly at him, eyes wide.

“M’gonna be makin’ up my mistakes for a long time to you, an’ not just like this,” he promises, slowing his movements but making them more deliberate, a little harder. Nothing is burning like it usually does, there’s no sting of pain, it’s just a melting pot of pleasure between your legs as he gives himself to you and you to him. 

“Is that okay with you? Is it okay if I wanna make this up to you for a long time?” Joel asks.

You know what he’s asking. You know you want it too, you know you haven’t felt this wanted since you moved to Texas, probably even before. Nothing has felt like this in your life, and he’s requesting you to have it. 

“Yes, yes, Joel, that’s okay with me,” you say.

He leans down and kisses you once, then lets you scoot up and over on the bed so you can fumble in your drawer for the lube. Your hand passes over a silicone toy in your bedside table and you smile at the fact that it will soon be long abandoned as you pass the lube to him.

“Might be cold,” Joel warns before pouring some onto his fingers and applying it to you.

Then, he applies some to himself and settles comfortably between your legs. He drags the head of his cock over your hole and up to your clit, like a teasing warning. He had felt big in your palm before, but he feels even bigger now. He was right to prep you.

Finally, he notches himself and slowly pushes in, letting your locked ankles on his lower back guide the speed at which he slides in. Joel is breathing really heavily, and when he finally feels his pelvis meet yours, he collapses down onto his elbows.

“Fuck,” he cusses.

It feels better than you thought it would. He’s big, but not so much that you want him to pull back a little. You physically feel as comfortable and fulfilled as he makes you feel emotionally.

“So good, oh my god–” you sigh softly, hands reaching up and catching his curls in your fingers. You drag him down, your beautiful boy, and kiss him gently. 

But he isn’t moving. You can feel his thighs shaking and how he’s still breathing heavily.

“Hey,” you start softly after pulling back from the kiss, but he shakes his head.

“If I move I think–  I think I’m gonna come,” he sputters out embarrassedly.

Oh. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry baby. You’re just so fucking pretty and it’s been so long and you feel so goddamn good, I don’t know, I can’t move.” 

His nose is near enough to yours that you can brush them together, nuzzling the side of his face.

“Joel it’s okay, I’m not going to be upset,” you tell him. It’s oddly sweet for him to have such an overwhelming reaction to you. 

“No, I know that I just… I really wanna make you come. I wanna feel it," he admits.

And so you wait. Your unending patience seems to extend to him again in this moment and you lay there kissing him until he can finally begin to move at an even pace. 

It’s so worth it.

Joel is so loving as he fucks you, with deep thrusts as he groans and bites at your neck tenderly. His hands come up and palm your breasts, rolling his thumbs over his nipples as he tells you how pretty you are, how grateful and sorry he is.

He apologizes a lot. For the party, for his distance, for how stupid he was to not see how beautiful you were from the day you moved in next door. He’s noisy and apologetic as he keeps a stable pace as he fucks you into your mattress. 

Your mind is entirely fucked for him. You’re whimpering and mewling beneath him, babbling “it’s okay,” and “i forgive you,” everytime he says he’s sorry. Why is he even sorry anymore? Can’t he tell how much you love this? 

The more he talks the closer you get, your body clenching around him as he buries himself deep repeatedly. The stable pace he set should ground you, should keep your head on your shoulders, but it’s actually making it worse. You don’t need it any faster or harder than he’s giving it to you, not with how noisy he is, and how attentive his hands are.

“Do you forgive me?” he rumbles into your ear, dropped on one elbow as his other hand is reached down and gently rubbing your clit. 

You nod desperately, accidentally knocking your head into his. It makes him laugh, asking “yeah?” as he continues to pin his hips into your own. 

“I forgive you, Joel, I swear,” you choke out weakly. 

“Then will you come for me, honey? Please?” he asks.

It’s maybe the dirtiest thing he’s said all night, or maybe it just feels like it in the heat of the moment, but it sends you over the edge right away. You spasm around him and claw at his broad back, gasping for air and squeaking out noises you haven’t made before. Tears prick at your eyes as he works you through it with his fingers and cock.

“Fuck, yeah, there you are baby, that’s a good girl. God– Can I come? Is that okay?” Joel asks once you start to come down. You’re still in your head enough to nod, pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips. 

It doesn’t take long at all, you’re surprised he was able to last as long as he did with everything considered. Joel takes less than a minute before he’s pulling out and letting out deep grunts and breaths as he comes on your tummy, looking down at you with adoring eyes. 

“Thank you, thank you baby, God.” He huffs out as he catches his breath. He’s kneeling between your legs with his chest puffing. 

He continues thanking you as he cleans you up with a washcloth. You had to guide him to it by yelling instructions as he walked on shaky legs to your linen closet, not wanting to spill his mess everywhere. 

Once you’re finally cleaned up, he nestles into bed with you. Your head lays on his still clammy shoulder as he tucks you beneath his arm and presses kisses to your hairline.

“M’so grateful for you, darlin’, I hope you know that,” he mumbles to you. 

You tell him that you know, that he just proved it to you, and he laughs. The noise is so warm in your room, like it was meant to be there.

“Okay, that’s fair, but if you need anything else,” he tells you.

A thought does pop into your mind, but it doesn’t seem totally appropriate. You’re enjoying this peaceful moment with Joel, in your quiet room. His hand is tapping its fingers on your stomach, squeezing the flesh once or twice.

You decide not to say anything, but your tummy does. She growls loud and proud, forcing an embarrassed blush onto your face.

“Um… I think I’m kinda hungry,” you admit.

—

That’s how you and Joel end the night, in the kitchen.

You’re sitting on your countertop while he leans against it about a foot away. The paper plate that Ellie loaded up with cake is sat between the two of you, and your forks steal big lumps out of it.

Joel has frosting in his moustache, but it looks so cute there that you don’t have the heart to tell him. Instead, you just lean over and kiss him. 

“N’ what was that for?” He asks through a mouthful of cake.

You just giggle and shrug, admiring him. 

“I just like you,” you tell him.

He looks like he might roll his eyes, but instead he steps closer to you and kisses you on the cheek. You can feel the residue of the frosting on your skin.

“Yeah, I think I like you too, baby.” 

i don't have a taglist, but i'll just tag people who commented on texas sweet :p @mochamadeleines @pascalssbabyy @taeslarityy @stefanibear003 @slutty-express @theweedisasterxoxo @knockk0ut @axshadows @lumpatto @aquanatalie @peekyourinterest @moel-jiller @ghostofzion @joeylovestofu @hellishjoel @pedropeach @pawnshopb1ues

[prosypepper]

“roomates” with satoru gojo

 this is part five of my kinktober event!

word count: 2.3k

warnings: nsfw, roomate au, fingering, gojo has a nasty mouth, pwp!, virgin reader, overstim. (18+ mdni!)

notes: i love the idea of actor and roomate gojo so much,,, may talk about it later. uploading early again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

kinktober masterlist | masterlist

having the satoru gojo as your roommate is quite the experience.

it was odd—

you had known satoru in college, always somehow getting stuck in the same overflow housing on campus. you had gotten to know each other well, being forced to live with the other off and on. after he had gotten his degree in drama—and you got your degree in a successful STEM major—he proposed moving in together. you needed a place off campus, and he needed someone to room with, because rent was too high for him to afford on his own as a budding actor.

things were fine for a while, daily routines consisted of seeing one another regularly. but then satoru had his first big gig. he disappeared for months, needed for a last minute replacement. he told you about the role; a younger version of a strong—no, the strongest—sorcerer. apparently, he got to play his part in a dramatic friendship breakup, which you figured perfectly suited the way satoru acted normally.

his fame quickly rose, with the series being released only a few months later. after that, satoru never really came around all that often; you saw him maybe twice a month, if you got lucky. but even after that, satoru stayed in the apartment. you didn’t mind, honestly, he kept up with his side of the rent plus some.

but the really odd part?

your social media feed.

every social wouldn’t shut up about him—“upcoming star, satoru gojo makes an impact in new tv series,” “he’s so hot, i’d let him do whatever he wanted,” “I NEED HIM,”

and yeah, maybe curiosity got the best of you when you searched up the fanfiction—but hey, people seemed like they would kill to be in your position. the creative minds of those online made you see your goofy, struggling artist of a roommate in a different light. the way they wrote about his chest, and how smooth and toned it is, or his sparkly blue eyes and how they could make clothes fall of with just a look. recently, satoru had shared in an interview his fingers are 6 inches, and boy did people go feral over that.

they focused on every part. his soft fingertips, and how lengthy his fingers actually are the more you look at them. the subtle veins that ran over the back of his hand and up his arm. his middle and ring finger, how nicely they slide in and out, hitting that spot, coaxing you toward—

“whatcha readin’?”

the abrupt question shocks you out of your trance, making you yelp and practically throw your phone across the room. it lands face down beside your vanity, earning a loud thud when it hits the floor. your heart speeds up as you turn to face your roommate, internal temperature rapidly rising.

“jesus, satoru! what are you doing home?” you ask, praying that he wouldn’t take it upon himself to grab your phone for you.

“it’s my apartment, too, y’know,” he retorts, throwing his hands on his hips dramatically. “i’m gonna be here for a few days, if you don’t mind.” every word off his tongue is laced in sarcasm. it’s annoying.

and just as you try to reply, gojo swoops to the other side of the room to grab your phone, intently staring at the screen before you can even say, “stop!” you want to run away because you just know he’s reading pure filth about himself that you looked up. but you find yourself unable to move whatsoever, only able to watch in horror as your roommate reads fanfiction about himself. immediately, a sly grin overcomes satoru’s expression, and his eyes flicker from the phone to you over his sunglasses.

“this is pretty detailed stuff,” satoru teases. you’re able to tell he is in fact reading whatever you had pulled up on your phone, because he’s taking his sweet time scrolling and reading through all the divine things said about his hands.

“stop, satoru,” you whine, pathetically reaching for your phone. gojo holds it out of your reach, of course, and even though you almost came to grab your phone that was almost touching the ceiling, you can’t quite reach it. “please just go away,” you sigh, giving up and flopping back down on your mattress. you can only look on, still mortified, as satoru continues scrolling.

after a few heavy minutes and some more comments on your choice of fiction to read, he throws your phone back on the bed next to you, placing his hands on his hips once more.

“how long were you gonna keep that from me?”

“never really planned on telling you, satoru. leave me alone.” you reply, grabbing your phone so it’s out of gojo’s reach.

“you could’ve just asked—,”

“go away—huh?” you furrow your brows and look at the taller man, who’s sassily posed next to your bed, “don’t fuck with me like that.”

“i’m not.” he assures you.

satoru wasn’t joking. in fact, he had never been more serious in his life. he’d always thought you were pretty – more like drop dead, breathtakingly beautiful – but never mustered up the courage to talk to you about it. you were his friend, his roommate. he didn’t want to scare you off. but all chances of him not scaring you off were thrown out the window because he knew you wanted him now.

so, yes, he did what he did with every other girl—encouraging a hot make-out session after you got over the embarrassment of what was on your phone. you hadn’t had a chance to think about all those stories you read online, because it was all happening to you in real time.

with your lips in a permanent lock, satoru takes his time rubbing his hands all over your body, grabbing your waist, flipping up the skirt you had worn in the previous hours to run errands—

“wait,” you labored out, breathing heavy as you pushed your roommate’s shoulders away from you, “i’ve never—i haven’t…” your words are tripping over themselves into silence as you try to explain to your – gorgeous, famous, actor – roommate that you’re a virgin.

queue satoru’s head almost exploding. he swears then and there that his nose should’ve started to bleed, and his face turned an awful shade of red at the news. it was unfathomable in his mind that you, his smoking-hot roommate, was a virgin. he swore he saw you come home with your ex-boyfriend plenty of times…but maybe you were saving yourself, or something.

“stop looking at me like that. you were a virgin too.” you scoff at his ogling, crossing your arms over your chest. you’re still trapped against your headboard, the sheer size of satoru making you stay in one place. your legs are draped over his thighs, not quite straddling but close enough for him to feel the heat radiating off of your clothed pussy.

“do you want me to finger you?”

the crude question rolls off his tongue with ease, and you smack his shoulder with the palm of your hand in return. but again, he’s being serious. it takes you a few seconds to realize he’s being serious, he wants to finger you and it’s written all over his face.

after a few moments and shocked blinks, you nod your head.

satoru’s nosebleed actually happens whenever he gets you in position; you’re laid back with your legs on top of his, knees pressing into his waist. he just stares in utter disbelief at how cute and sexy you look, flustered all because of him. he runs the pad of his thumb over the mound in your panties, relishing in how soft, warm and damp you are. he can’t take his eyes away from how his thumb presses into the flesh, pushing down just to watch how his thumb gets swallowed by it.

“satoru—your nose is bleeding,” you gruffly state, snapping the white-haired man back to reality. one hand stays pressed to you while he lifts the other one to wipe under his nose with the back of his wrist.

low and behold, a few droplets of blood smear on the back of his wrist—but he’s too entranced by you to care. he looks back in your eyes, wiping his face with his shirt grossly.

“i’m okay—can i take them off?” satoru asks, almost politely if he wasn’t bleeding from the nose at how horny he is. his fingers hook into the waistband, eagerly awaiting your nervous little nod that you give him. he rips the thin fabric off your legs, taking it upon himself to lift you up and move your legs so he can toss your panties to the side of the room.

your immediate response is to snap your thighs together, but satoru quickly stops you and holds your legs open, forcing you to show your most intimate area to him. he drools over how pretty it looks, folds spread open and glistening, a perfect display of anatomy. he’s in love with the view alone. a prominent tent pokes in his sweatpants, but he ignores the feeling to focus on the task at hand.

“stop staring,” you meekly speak up, eyes looking anywhere else but at your celebrity roommate.

satoru’s bright irises look up at you before asking, “can i?” with the looks of a child begging for a piece of candy. after another quick, nervous nod, satoru swipes his thumb over your hole, then all the way up to over your clit. the sensation makes you wriggle and gasp, it’s odd being touched by someone else—but it feels good, even better than alone. natural lubrication practically drips off your pussy, so prettily, and satoru continues dragging his thumb up and down, paying close attention to how you whimper or move around when he gets to the bundle of nerves poking out.

you feel particularly needy at his ministrations, they’re so slow and it leaves you aching for more when he moves to less sensitive parts of your cunt. every time your eyes flash to gojo, he’s completely locked on what’s between your plush thighs, making you all the more embarrassed. embarrassment is thrown away, though, when his middle and ring fingers close together and creep up to slowly rub your clit.

your body jolts and satoru silently giggles, god, you’re so sensitive for him, he might go insane. he finds it simply endearing how well you react to him. each small circle he draws over your bud makes your thighs twitch and hole clench, and from his view, he can see it all perfectly. satoru’s eyes look up at you for once, just to see your head thrown back on the pillow and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth to silence yourself.

“don’t be quiet, babe,” he says, and your eyes snap open to be brought back to reality.

“wh—uuht?” you drawl, mind hazy and foggy from just the little bit of pleasure he was providing. but as your mouth is open, he speeds his fingers up, forcing you to practically yell out, “satoru—wait!”

“i wanna hear you,” gojo taunts, his voice light and happy, not at all giving the impression he was playing with your cunt.

he does not wait, or slow down, he only continues to quicken the pace of which his fingers circle your clit. he feels accomplished when you finally begin to let out little moans and suck in air through your teeth, knowing the feeling of his finger pads was becoming all too much. this was the type of thing he lived for—making cute, inexperienced girls (you) lose their mind from pleasure.

it’s the type of pleasure that you weren’t able to achieve yourself; it made the bottoms of your feet tingle, and your legs move on their own—and the familiar feeling of an orgasm was quickly building up. the knot in your lower abdomen grows tighter and more intense, making you whine and thrash below your roommate.

satoru’s other hand comes down to prod his index finger at your tight hole, an unfamiliar feeling to you—especially as it’s being done by someone else. he pushes his finger in, causing another yelp to come from the back of your throat—but it doesn’t hurt. gently fucking you with just the tip of his finger, satoru’s hand focused on your clit speeds up more.

“mm—satoru, think i’m close,” your words are rushed as you warn him, but his movements don’t falter in the slightest.

“yeah? gonna cum on my fingers?” he teases, “gonna cream all my hand?”—and if you weren’t already so close, you would’ve kicked him out at the taunting. instead, you throw your arms over your face and try your best to hold back the feeling—wanting it to last as long as possible. he slowly pushes his finger in more and more, gradually coming to fuck you with one thin, long finger. the first bit he’s fully inside, it’s uncomfortable, but the pressure fades the more he plays with you. the bubble of your orgasm grows and grows until you’re about to topple over the edge.

“i’m gonna cum,” the words come out your mouth in a long, sultry string— satoru’s never heard anyone sound so good while telling him that.

“yeah, that’s it—come on, baby,” satoru encourages you, his voice having dropped multiple octaves to sound a million times more sexy — far from the satoru you’d come to know. his words force the orgasm to crash over you, your body continually jolting and stuttering—beginning to fight satoru because he doesn’t stop.

“i—i finished—stop, satoru—ohmygod—,” you stutter out, and satoru presses his elbows against your thigh, rendering you immobile.

“you’re so sensitive, princess,” satoru teases again, and you catch his eyes in a downright primal stare,

“gonna make you cum on my fingers again, baby.”