#but i had to run outside to bring the washing in desperately...

[sanriovin]

steamy shower sex with simon.

the man's just come home from a deployment which took you away from him and him away from you for a whole month. a whole month of both of you having no sexual contact with each other, no calls, no photos, no nothing.

so just imagine the desperation and the raw need between the two of you as he stepped foot back into the place that finally felt like home after so many years of trying to find it, dropping his bag to the wooden floor, not even bothering to take his shoes off as his arms found themselves wrapped tightly around your smaller body, holding you close, so close.

"missed you, lovey." his voice was deep, low, as usual, yet his tone was softened, into one of vulnerability, love, desire, and need. one that he only ever used towards you. only you were deserving of hearing and seeing his true emotions, which were hidden behind a cold mask to others.

you insisted he should take a shower, clean himself up from the messy deployment, ease his stiff, aching joints, slowly ground himself back into the domestic side of his life, even if it wouldn't last forever. not yet, at least, one day, maybe.

however, simon didn't want to be alone yet, no, not after he just came back to his sweetheart. so in the end, the two of you ended up showering together. it started as a normal shower, which slowly escalated into more.

which is how you found yourself, in simon's big, well-trained arms, his scarred fingers pressing tightly into your thighs, back against his muscled chest, as he fucked up into you, his fat cock stretching out your pulsing, clenching walls with a slight new found difficulty from how long he was separated from you. but, that just means he has to get you nice and stretched out, doesn't he?

the running water did little to conceal the groans and low moans from him, and the higher, louder moans and whines from you. your head was leaning against his shoulder, eyes barely open, as his tip repeatedly pressed against your sweetest spots inside you, making you feel dizzy from the unwavering pleasure.

rutting his hips up into you, his grip on you tightened, as he slowly lowered his head, whispering into your ear amidst his noises of pleasure and relief. "feeling good, pretty girl? getting close? i can fucking feel you clenching around me so hard. you wanna cum, yeah?"

he was teasing you with his words, as he soon began to simultaneously bring your wet pussy down onto his dick while fucking up into you, but you knew he was just as wanting as you were in this moment.

your moans grew louder in noise, stirring him on to do the same, his groans and grunts of your name and dirty words growing louder and more rushed. your wetness was dripping down his cock, slipping down his bare, marked skin, leaving a trail which almost immediately got washed off by the running water in the shower.

the glass was steamed up, a white sheet of condensation hiding your two bodies away from the outside. the air was getting hotter and thinner, which, along with your current states, didn't really help much. but, none of that mattered in the moment. what mattered was that you were with simon again, getting one of the best sex experiences in your life.

"g'nna cum, wanna cum, pleasee, 'leasee!" you cried out, turning your head, trying to capture simon's lips in a long-awaited kiss. you could see his eyes moving to look down at your lips, as he lowered his head down, capturing your lips in a wet, messy kiss, one with tongue's meeting, fighting for the dominance, which undoubtedly you had lost quickly.

"you wanna cum, huh?" he muttered out, his pace constant, not speeding or slowing down. "wanna cum so desperately? then do it. be a good girl for me and make a fucking filthy mess."

and that was all it took for you to snap, your body jerking and trembling as the tension in your lower abdomen snapped, mind blank, save for simon's name, as your orgasm hit you so intensely, squirting so hard as your body shook from it. your pussy clenched and twitched so much that that in itself was enough to bring poor simon to the breaking point.

holding you down tightly on him, which was definite to leave many loving, reminiscent marks of what had happened, he let out a lusty, heavy moan, burying his face in your shoulder, as hot spurts of his cum shot into you, intertwining with yours, creating a sticky mess between the two of you as it began to dribble out, getting flushed away through the shower water.

it took you some time to gather yourselves; to catch your breaths, come back to reality, to ground yourselves from the orgasms you had just experienced. simon slowly let you down, turning the shower off, looking down at you, as you slumped against him, barely managing to stand on quivering legs.

"well, that shower was pointless, wasn't it?"

but he wouldn't trade these moments for anything in the world.

(author's note: wrote this on a whim, not too proud of it 🤞)

[neilsbeloved]

get the job done

summary: every night, clark feels bits of his sanity chip away as he has to involuntarily listen to your moans and whimpers despite being miles away from you. he doubts he can control himself any longer especially with a familiar red stone hanging around his neck.

pairing: red k!clark kent x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ / smut with no plot / oral (f) / dubious consent / use of vibrators / unprotected sex (no male cum) / voyeurism (i think) / overstimulation / inappropriate use of superhuman hearing / size kink / clark competes with a vibrator / competitive clark / mutual masturbation / big dick clark fr / mentions of using somebody’s moans to get off

Clark Kent is the best college roommate you could ever ask for.

He cleaned, he cooked, he has cool parents that always sends him freshly baked goods—and above all, he's always down to get you your art supplies whenever you run out of them in the middle of the night.

Though, you always wondered how he manages to get to the edge of the city then back to the dorm in less than ten minutes. Whenever you did that, it took you at least an hour. You didn't question him about it though, you figured there so much more things to worry about than your roommate being Sonic the Hedgehog's cousin.

Clark could say the same for you.

Never asks questions, keeps your hands to your own things, washes the dishes when it piles up, always offers your help whenever he and his journalist friends needs it—it's a breeze living with you.

Well, almost.

Whenever the clock hits twelve and you bring out your friend from underneath your bed, it's the only time Clark wishes he can fully block out his superhearing; give you your privacy and let him fall asleep without having to hear of your hushed breaths and restricted moaning.

Why not leave? Clark could easily super-speed out of the dorm room then come back after you're done.

He did that before already. Running off to the farm in Smallville to sleep in his own room, barely alerting you that he did. It worked for the first few minutes. He was able to get some quiet, got to close his eyes, relax—everything.

However, just as he was about to fall into sleepland, your voice invades his head again. The intensity of your voice seemingly felt like he's doing it intentionally; zeroing on your voice despite the distance he willingly put between the two of you.

With his cock hardening every second he heard your voice desperately calling for him, he couldn't help but be forced to relieve some of the pressure using your moans, no matter how against the idea he was.

The next night he left the dorm, he tried going as far as the Fortress of Solitude. Sitting just outside of the grand palace, head in his hands, eyes closed thinking he finally escaped the threshold of your sounds.

Unfortunately, that breathy voice of yours saying Keep going, Clark, you're fucking me so well proved him wrong.

Clark strolls back inside of the dorm, bag slung over his shoulders after he had just finished his last class for the day. You immediately appear into his view, nose deep into your drafting table, sparing him a quick glance.

"You don't look nice. Didn't sleep well?" You chime, voice characteristically monotonous.

Clark sighs. His shoulder slumping down as he takes a seat on his desk, rubbing his face in his hands. "Not really. I was caught up on some midterm review last night."

"Midterm review?" You furrow your eyebrows, "Oh! Is that why you weren't here last night?"

"L-last night? I was here." Clark clears his throat.

You scoff, raising an eyebrow as you throw him a look over your shoulder. "Dude, I woke up at like three in the morning and your bed was empty. Hours later you're back on your bed snoring."

He raises an eyebrow at you.

"Don't worry, Clark. You don't have to tell me if you're sneaking out," you say teasingly, only to laugh loudly when you see Clark roll his eyes at you.

Only if you knew what he was doing out of the dorm.

The both of you began working in silence, occasionally bringing up some mundane things to talk about like what the two of you are having for dinner, or if either of you are going to a party you got invited to.

"Why ask me, aren't you and that dude in finance going out?" Clark asks, stretching his arms up while dropping his pen on his notebook.

You grimace, shaking your head. "He spilled coffee on a plate I was supposed to submit."

"That's gotta leave a mark," Clark hoots, throwing you over a look before laughing. Very much entertained at the way you glared at him to shut up. "What'd you do about it?"

"What else was I supposed to do? I left his sorry ass in the cafe, Jesus." You huff irritatedly, scratching the side of your head with the tip of your pencil. "Every man's either stupid or reckless, usually it's both."

"No argument from me there," he responds, reminding you once more why you enjoyed having him as a roommate.

After another round of silence, his phone rings in an awfully loud ballad ringtone.

Whenever that ringtone sounds, you know it's that blonde named Chloe. While in other cases where it's a White Snake ringtone, it's definitely Chloe's cousin Lois. You, on the other hand, picked out the Mario Kart theme song as your designated ringtone after finding out about Clark's little habit of assigning a specific ringtone to a person.

"It's Chloe, she needs me at the Planet." Clark says with a nod, closing his notebooks shut and grabbing his jacket. Before he leaves, Clark calls for you. "Oh—and I might spend the night back at the farm. I need to help my dad out with something so… I'll just bring you some muffins."

When he sees you raise a thumbs up, Clark nods, locking the door shut as he left.

Fuck, Clark, keep going.

Don't stop.

Mhm, just like that!

Your voice rang in his ears. Constant cries of his name falling from your lips like an endless prayer.

Clark's jaw ticks, resisting the urge to let the growl in his throat free as the bartender over the counter looks at him with concern. "You okay, Kal?" The red rings in Clark's pupils flicker dangerously. The Kryptonian downing the shot in one straight swig, barely even affected by the lousy human alcohol.

"Never better," Clark says, jerking his head for another shot.

Yesyesyes—Shit, Clark—

The marble counter cracks under Clark's hold. His eyebrows knitted in concentration as he tried to block out your sounds. As beautiful and dirty they were, this wasn't the time nor the place he should be hearing them.

He swears, one more whimper of his name and he'll—

O-oh! I'm almost there, please…

"Keep it," Clark slams a hundred dollar bill he stole from someone in the club, the bartender looking at him confusedly. Before he gets to ask him, Clark had already dashed away.

When he arrives, his mouth falls open in utter surprise.

You laid there naked, legs spread, your cunt out in display for anyone to see. The pink toy in your hand pressed firmly on the quivering mess in between your thighs. Your cheeks were dusted with color, eyes closed shut, lips wide and spilling all sorts of moans and pleas.

One hand was on the pink toy, the other was busy fondling your breasts. Rolling your firm nipple in between your fingers as the coil in your stomach tightened by the second.

"Oh—mmhm—fuck! Almost there, almost there… godgodgo—" A silent scream breaks through you, your hips stuttering a few times before you ultimately shake on the mattress. Legs clamping around the pink toy as spots of white appeared in your vision.

Clark's name leaves your throat, smothered by the pillow you grabbed beside you.

Then, you hear a voice from the corner: "Aww, c'mon now, angel, don't cover your mouth."

You stiffen, body shooting up in alert. Your eyes drifting to the figure at the corner of the room; his legs were spread apart, big hand holding his even bigger cock as he shamelessly runs it up and down the length. Deep groans emitting from his every movement.

It's Clark, your roommate.

He's jerking himself off in the corner of your damn dorm room.

"What? Don't stop on my accord, angel. Keep going," he shrugs indifferently. Lips pulling into a smile that urges you to continue. "Oh c'mon… do you want me to beg for it, angel? Beg for you to continue pleasuring that little cunt of yours until that gadget finally makes you come?"

Your cheeks heat up with the vulgarity of his words. Clark doesn't even use curse words on a normal day,  hearing these stuff come out of him now is bizarre.

"I… I don't know what you're talking about, Clark."

Clark chuckles at you, deep and pointed, letting go of his cock and standing up to start walking towards you. Your legs close out of instinct, nuzzling them both to your chest as Clark sits a feet away from you, right by your feet.

He catches your lust-blown eyes in his, only to glance down on your lips, running his thumb across your bottom lip.

"Angel, let's not fool ourselves here. I know you've been fucking yourself every night thinking of me. Picturing my mouth…" he runs a finger on your exposed knee, "…my fingers…" he flicks his attention back up, noticing the way your breathing slowly clipped and your eyes glued on his member. "…and of course, my cock."

You shake your head at the last bit, trying to get some sense back into your brain. Telling yourself over and over again that this has got to be some sort of nightmare—or dream, actually.

"You think that little toy of yours is enough to satisfy your needs—but no, it's isn't, angel." Clark nears his face to yours, the manly scent of his aftershave invading your senses. "Not even close."

He pulls away with a smirk, enjoying the way your legs clenched together with just his mere words.

"C-Clark…" you breathe out, trying your best to sound composed. But it's hard, especially when your roommate—the very one you've been fantasizing about—is sitting in front you with his hard cock in display. "We shouldn't do this."

The man in front of you scoffs, an air of smugness surrounding him. "Why not?" He asks you softly, "You didn't seem to have a problem crying out my name a second ago."

You open your mouth to respond but he beats you to it.

"I'm betting you anything in the world that if I pry these legs of your apart," he places a hand on your knee, "Your pussy would be dripping wet."

You don't respond anymore—you don't think you can. Your head is spinning with everything that's happening. You just wanted to get your release for the night, not get tangled up with Clark-on-viagra.

But you can't say that it didn't intrigue you.

This version of Clark—the way his voice went deeper than it usually did, the blazing hot presence he carried himself with—you can't say that it didn't make the mess between your legs ache even harder.

The way he watched you like a predator watching his prey, waiting for the right moment to pounce on you—it was fucking hot.

"So what do you say, angel? Are you gonna let me show you how much better I am than that lousy gadget of yours, or are you gonna stick with that?"

Your response? A wordless one as you spread your knees apart, letting him see every inch of you from your glistening cunt to your stiff peaks. Clark's eyes glow red, his sharp canines coming into view as he zeroes in on your puffy clit, begging to be tended to.

"Good choice, angel," he grins, kicking off the rest of his pants before lying down in front of you.

Clark's head is face-to-face with your pussy. His arms wraps around on both of your thighs in a secure grip before he dives in.

His tongue finds your clit with practiced ease, swirling the wet muscled around it, alternating between sucking and licking before you start to feel the tip of his fingers prod at your hole.

"Oh my god," you gasp, the quick rising of your orgasm has you gripping the sheets in ecstasy. "Keep doing that… keep—keep your mouth on that clit, Clark." You feel him chuckle against your pussy, finding the way you're instructing him adorable.

It's not Clark's first encounter with pussy. And it's definitely not Kal-El's too.

He looks at you, making sure you keep your eyes on him before he thrusts one finger inside of you. He barely lets you adjust on his thick finger as he goes right into fucking it in and out of you while he sucked on your clit.

Your legs shake uncontrollably around his face, trying desperately to clamp around his head but his arms are stopping you. The muscles of his biceps flexing harshly.

Clark puts in another finger, testing your hole with his thick fingers as he keeps his eyes locked onto the delicious upturn of your eyebrows. The walls of your shared dormitory now filled with your shameless moans.

"Right there!" You gasp, darting out to grab his wrist as you began meeting his thrusts with your hips. "So… sosososo—fucking good, Clark."

"Yeah? How good?"

"Incredible," you breathe.

The knot in your core tightens, your walls clamps down on his fingers greedily.

"Better than your toy?" He arches an eyebrow.

You don't answer, your mind currently running in circles as you focus on the overwhelming sensation in your pussy.

Clark's eyes narrow, teeth coming in contact with your clit as you writhe. "Asked you a question."

"Better! It's… ohh fuck…" your mouth falls open, feeling the finish line near.

Clark grins, looking at you with satisfaction. "It's about to get better." he flicks his tongue in continuous strokes, making up for the bite before he starts thrusting his fingers into you. Making sure your wetness trails down the fluffy covers of your bed for tomorrow's reminiscing. "Come all over my hand, angel. I want you to make a mess of yourself."

You do as he says, your legs giving out as you feel a rush of pleasure shoot through your core. Your eyes squeezing shut as a broken cry of his name falls from your lips.

Not even a second later, you already feel Clark cleaning you up with his tongue. Greedily licking up every bit of come that oozes out of your hole, caring about nothing else aside from making sure he gets every drop. No matter how hard you pull at his hair, pushing him away from further overstimulating you, it practically does nothing as Clark's strength overpowers you.

Next thing you know, you're convulsing around his tongue again, this time, faster than you ever did on your vibrator.

Your voice is hoarse by the time Clark pulls away from you. Your thighs tensing involuntarily as he finally lets go of his superhuman hold on them. The lower half of his face is drenched in your release, glistening again the smooth skin of his chin.

He moves up to you, hungrily taking you in a lust-filled kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue—sweet, mildly salty, and very messy.

"Not done yet, angel. Fun's just started," he grins, running his tongue over his sharp canines.

God if that didn't make you ache even more.

You let him pull you closer to him, the weight of his cock resting idly on your pussy. The sheer length of his cock making you squirm in place. Clark only chuckles, giving you a few slaps to side of your thighs.

"Don't worry, angel," you start to feel his tip run up and down your slit. Clark's forehead creasing as he dips back down to angle his hips so that your wetness coats the outside of his cock.

You gulp. The air gets knocked out of your chest the moment you feel the first two inches inside of you.

"Oh god," you cry out, holding onto Clark's biceps. "Clark, you're… Fuck—I can't—"

"You can, angel. Just a little more, c'mon. You can take dear ole roommate inside that greedy cunt," Clark grunts, nose scrunching up as he looks at you with nothing but lust.

He pushes in further, and when you've thought his fully inside you, he's still pushing in.

"God, Clark, how fucking big are you?" You can't help but let it out, too overwhelmed by the stretch in your cunt to even care about your words.

Clark smirks, "Big enough for you to take, angel."

You finally feel him bottom out, and it's like your heart shoved up your throat.

"How's it feel, angel?"

Your walls flutter around his cock as a response. A deep growl ripping through Clark's throat the moment you do.

"I'm takin' that as a yes to move, angel. Now, if you wanna be naughty and muffle your moans," he drops his eyes to your swollen lips, "Feel free to bite me."

He begins moving at a brutal pace. Pounding in and out of you with much force that your bed frame's hitting the wall in loud clashes. Clark sucks on his teeth as he goes delirious over your tightness, losing the grip he has on himself the longer that he keeps fucking into you.

"Clark! That… nhhngg—feels so fuckin' good, givin' it to me so—so fucking good baby," you ramble, saying the only words that you know at the moment.

The red rings in Clark's eyes pulses, watching your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure. Losing yourself to the pleasure as sobs of his name fill the small space. He feels more energy surge through his body, fucking his thick cock into you with much more vigor until you feel his balls slap onto your ass with every thrust.

Your core tightens, the knot in your stomach coming way earlier than you want it—you can't stop it, the way Clark's fucking into you in an inhumane pace has you nothing but puddle in his arm.

"O—Oh, Clark! I'm coming!" you sob out, locking your arms around his neck as you feel a sort of chain on it.

Clark's hands moves from the mattress to the side of your neck, using you as leverage to thrust even deeper, groaning deeply each time. "Go on, angel, come for me."

A wave of pleasure—way more intense than before—ripples through you. Your legs shooting up to wrap around Clark's waist as his pace never faltered, continuing the ruthless way his hips crash into yours with abandon

Mindlessly, you tug on the chain around his neck. The pendant on it slipping from the opening of his shirt. Your eyes caught on the red stone pendant, the mere stone glowing just subtly.

Clark looks down, his pupils flaring red the moment he sees the pendant. He turns back to you, watching in satisfaction as you squeeze around his cock like a greedy bitch in heat.

You shake from under him, back arching up into his clothed chest as you release one more time. Clark bites his lips, pulling out of you haphazardly only to feel a gush of your wetness spray onto his cock.

The two of you look down at the same time, seeing the part where you two had connected be drenched with liquid—both yours and his.

Something drops onto your chest, just right above the center of your breasts. When shift your head just subtly, you see a familiar pendant on your bare skin.

"Oh my god…" a shaky voice comes from above you.

There you see Clark, again, only this time he doesn't have that dark and lustful look in his eyes—no, this time, he actually looks shocked.

You shake your head, thinking maybe it's just the orgasm doing tricks on you. But then Clark speaks—

This time, a little less deep and more Clark Kent: "Oh no."

hearts, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! xoxo

[webism]

You make a spur-of-the-moment detour to your exes house on his birthday.

ex!Toji Fushiguro x afab reader. 4.2k. read on ao3

cw: a little bit o' angst, some drinking, oral (reader receiving), unprotected sex, toji doesnt wash his sheets i know it.

One dark night cursed with rain is all it takes to bring you back to Toji’s front door. Knuckles rapping on wood despite your own mind— it’s the warmest night of the week, humidity seeps into your bones. 

Toji opens his door and greets you with silence. You stand, a vision of something desperate. The man who had once loved you so tenderly watches you with stale eyes. You feel sick for remembering it’s his birthday. You also feel sick knowing he’s spent it in this damn house.

Not a word is shared, sweet nor acidic. Oh your Toji, stoic and silent. Not a thing has changed. 

He steps to the side, offering you refuge from the dreary weather. His eyes are on his driveway, left empty: you walked here. It’s apparent in the way your hair shines wet with rain. 

He used to lecture you for having wet hair in late hours like this, even when it’s warm. His mother used to tell him, hand gentle on the side of his face, ‘Toji, you’ll get a cold.’ 

He’s silent still as you walk past him, and cross the threshold into the house you used to waste away in. You don’t bother to take your shoes off: maybe in an attempt to convince yourself not to stay long. Though you do feel hauntingly warm trapped within such cold walls. 

The door clicks shut. Twelve seconds of silence ensue— you count. 

His first word, “Wine?” 

You ponder the butterfly effect. What total disaster will occur as a result of playing into this fever you’ve been having? How many casualties will you be accountable for? Will blood stain your hands? An ugly pit settles in your stomach. 

You nod regardless, there’s nothing in this house that can’t be nursed with a drink. Toji nods and god have you missed those eyes that soften just a little at the corners when he looks at you.

He only has the cheap stuff, and he has to shuffle through a few empty bottles to find it. Red. It pours smooth, Toji’s hands tight on the neck of the bottle as he bleeds it for you. The rain outside gets heavier: you think of it as a sign you left at the right time. Though, if you hadn’t left at all you’d still be dry. 

It’s been months since your last drink. You down the glass in two sips, you hate the taste but accept when Toji offers you another. What’s a night like this without relapse?

A step forward. 

“This place hasn’t changed,” you note, watching as Toji walks from kitchen to living room, steps heavy and haunting. He stands a few feet from you, back pressed against the wall. “You should move into something more comfortable.”

“A townhouse?” He teases you.

Yes. A townhouse like you. Yours, maybe— or the one across the road that’s just gone up for sale. It has a privacy screen you know he’d love and no broken tiles and no bad memories. You could walk the hot pavement to ask for some sugar when you’re out, and he could tell you he doesn’t have any, because why would he have sugar? And when you would go home deflated, he would run out to buy a bag of sugar, two— one white and one brown because you never specified— and leave them at your front door. Yes. A townhouse. 

“No,” you look down. “You’re not a townhouse type of man.”

Toji exhales. He asks you, in a tone laced with something dark, what type of man he is. 

You gesture around you, the wallpaper is beginning to peel. He’s this type of man.

Toji looks at you, and he asks ‘why are you here? it’s been a year and your life is finally stable again,’ but he asks with his eyes, because those words would never leave his lips. You hate that you can still read him. You wonder if you’ll speak his language forever. 

“Happy birthday,” you say. “I didn’t get you anything.”

Silence, and then– “good.”

You could have emptied your wallet for him with ease. You know he needs things: new socks, a watch that isn't broken, a new beginning. Toji has never taken anything from you though, not gifts or favours or cuddles after sex. You hate that about him: always a provider, never being cared for. Such a shell of a happy man, you count yourself special for having seen him smile. Such gifts have always been your favourite.

“How's…” he trails off, a frail attempt at not suffocating you in the silence he knows you hate. The words don't meet his lips, though: how's your new life? Finally on a comfortable wage? And how are the neighbours? Are they noisy like mine are? Do you stay up laughing at their awkward sex noises like we did? Do you fuck a warm body to drown them out just like us? Do you live trying to recreate domestic life with me? Do you miss the filth? The broken sleep? Were you ever happy? Why are you here?

Toji  bites his tongue. “More wine?”

“No, thanks.”

The rain continues. Despite the roof over your head, you feel heavy with water: something uneasy settles inside of you, and Toji steps closer. He’s wearing black, as usual, and his sleeves are short so you're able to notice he’s added onto his tattoos. Your initial still sits untouched just by his elbow, he’s held onto at least some of you.

Maybe words don’t need to be shared. You step forward. He follows suit.

Before you can stop yourself, you are standing toe-to-toe with Toji Fushiguro. You can watch his shoulders raise with each deep breath he takes, and as you lift your gaze, you look death in the eyes. Sorcerer killer. As beautiful as ever. 

You feel small and powerless, without purpose or justification. Must you always think for yourself? You’re tired of wrestling with that mind of yours. In the cold house you once shared with him, you suddenly forget how to make good decisions. You raise your hands, and touch his lip with your fingertips. He has a new scar, one that runs from the corner of his mouth downwards. You want to kiss it away. You wonder if he pays it much attention in the mirror, is the memory of getting it as bad as the memory of you?

“You shouldn't be here,” Toji slips his large hands to your waist. You feel at home. “Left for a better life.”

“Yeah.”

“I can walk you home.”

“Shut up, Toji. It’s your birthday.”

Relapse: god it tastes good. Toji kisses you like it’s his first and last taste of you. It's deep and yearning and laced with lust and anger and an awful fear of loss. But at the same time, he kisses you like it’s a tuesday evening, and he's just now home from work and you’ve been busy all day with the house, which is quaint and clean and not run-down like his. Maybe a townhouse.

His tongue slips into your mouth, and he kisses you like he had once planned to on your wedding night: your back hits the wall, but his hand is behind your head to cushion it. A tear slips down your face, overwhelmed by the presence of who has haunted so many of your dreams. You want more of him, you want to indulge yourself on the forbidden: what a taboo his touch has become.

“Please,” you speak against his lips. 

“On the bed.”

Toji steps away from you, and nods down the hall. You know your way, you know this house like it's built from your own bones. Memories flash through your mind with each step you take towards his bedroom, the one that used to be yours, too. You let yourself smile, remembering being carried to bed after a drink too many, or spending hours curled up under the sheets waiting for your love to return home. Eating breakfast in bed together, the sex that would follow.

His footsteps are heavy against the wood behind you, he shadows you as you walk into his room, once yours too. The bed has moved, it’s pushed against the wall now— you suppose there isn’t need for someone else to have room to get in on the other side. You wonder how many people he’s fucked to forget about you in the sheets that used to smell like you. 

You can only worry so much, jealousy doesn’t do one well when it’s barely justified. You sit on the edge of the mattress, running your fingers along the soft covers and try not to think of all the times you've been here before. You used to sit and watch him get dressed, the troublesome time it would take to get his clothes on worth the sight of his bare skin covered to remain for your eyes alone. You’d daydream sometimes of watching him dress for different circumstances; maybe in another life you’d sit in the master bedroom of a townhouse and watch your Toji dress for the picket-fence desk job dream rather than for murder.

And yet, the bed seems to swallow you whole. This room, even after you left, remains half yours. A cursory glance to the wardrobe shows it still half empty, dust laden over the dresser your perfumes once sat atop. The curtains covering his window are the same ones you had picked out on sale in the spirit of making a house a home. You still linger. 

Toji leans against the wall by the window, his toned arms crossed over his chest as he watches you look around. His lips part slowly, but he closes his mouth and clears his throat when you lean back on your elbows. You stare ahead at nothing in particular, thinking of all those nights where you laid awake, watching him in his sleep, worrying about whether he’d come home in a box the following week. You never stopped worrying, really.

With every passing second you feel more and more guilty. Selfish for imposing on Toji's life without you, estranged for leaving a townhouse nine blocks over to return to the home you had left so long ago.

“I miss you,” you say softly.

Toji doesn’t move, doesn’t speak— you can hear the rain worsen outside. You think you’ve fucked things up—ruined the relapse—when Toji pushes himself off the wall and reaches you in two long steps. He looks down at you, large frame towering over your body in a way that makes you feel both small and seen at the same time. You sit in his shadow, under his punitive gaze, looking up at the man you had once promised a forever to. 

Toji leans down, meets you in height and kisses you once again. This time, the kiss is slow, languid and gentle in a way you remember once hating. You’d always yearn for the rough, mean side of Toji that could make you see stars in seconds. You used to want the Zenin to come out and settle your hunger. But now, with the gentle way in which Toji takes your lips between his, you couldn’t imagine wanting anyone but him.

He kisses you like a man home from war which, in a way, he always will be. When his hands come to rest on your waist, you’re confronted by the memories of his touch: soft on your skin, tender and caring despite the roughness of his very being. When he draws your thighs apart and kneels between them, you hate yourself for ever leaving. How cruel you were. 

Toji sets his fingers under the waistband of your pants and pulls them down, panties too, in one swift movement aided only by the raising of your hips. He looks at you, bare and desperate, and his throat goes dry. He tries desperately to clear his mind of all the memories that start like this, with you spread out and laid back in wait of him. He pressed a gentle his to your thigh, then sinks his teeth into your flesh—anything to leave a mark on you again.

“Ow,” you whine, buck your hips up a little in hopes of pleasure to chase the pain. Toji doesn’t relent, he bites your thigh again, this time a little higher. “Toji.”

“Don’t say my name like that,” he growls, catches your skin between his teeth and moves upwards. “Like you’re still used to this. Like we’re fucking for the third time this week. That’s gone.”

You take a breath in and close your eyes. You can feel yourself deflate a little, his words are sharp and poking but his lips are gentle as they kiss over the indentations left by his teeth. Another kiss, even higher, and he’s soon pressing his lips to your clit in something you can only describe as reunion.

It can’t all be gone, because he darts his tongue out to circle around your clit in a way he’s done so much before it’s now muscle memory. As is the way your hips buck upwards just to be caught and pinned by his strong hands. You’re held down and ravaged by your Toji, who dips his tongue down through your folds before latching onto your clit like he’s trying to find comfort in your taste. Maybe he finds it, because he lets out a sigh and presses his forehead to your pelvis as he takes a breath.

“You taste the same,” he mumbles, dipping forward again to practically make out with your cunt. He’s always been messy—hungry. You can feel his scar against you, it’s new and not something you attach to him just yet, but maybe that's a good thing. Your fingers curl into the silk sheets you brought on sale two years ago. 

“Your tongues the same, always fucking teasing.”

“Deal with it.”

You try again to buck your hips up in protest, but his grip on your waist is too wrought. He’s mean, holding you down and denying you the chance to chase pleasure, but he’s always been this way—Toji will do anything to hold control. He returns his attention to your needy clit and eats you out at a pace you can only call familiar: too fucking slow. You want to protest, to whine and beg for more in the hopes his ego will take the buff and make you cum on his tongue, but before you can even part your lips to speak, he’s mumbling against your pussy.

“Just let me savour this.”

Oh and who are you to deny him after so long, after the withdrawals of losing his tongue you’re eager to end it so soon? No, you’re driven by lust and not giving your heart a moment to voice whims. You tighten your grip on the sheets, feel the slow coil in your stomach pull further, and let out a breath. You feel him wholly, each flick of his tongue over your sensitive achey clit, the dig of his thick fingers into your waist, his breath against your skin as he moans into his ministries. 

You’re close before you can start entirely savouring it. “Toji,” you try—but he knows you, he feels it already.

“I know, ma, you can take some more. Know you can, always been a fuckin’ slut for my mouth”

You can’t—you both know it. Toji wants to feel you unravel against his lips and give himself reason to punish you for it. He pushes two fingers into your fluttering cunt and curls them upwards just to torture you further. You’d chide him if you weren’t choking on your moans already, practically begging him with your sweet noises for that oh-so-wanted relief.

And he obliges, of course, because your orgasm is a rarity he used to taste daily. Something he missed, the taste of your relief, the way you’d shake under his touch and let him kiss you better afterwards. He doesn’t deserve you, but he’s been good enough of a man to deserve this, at least once more. 

Your orgasm wracks through you like a wave would a desolate beach in a storm. Emotional. Restorative in a way. Sobering. You half expect your eyes to open and find yourself back at home in the comforts of your new bed with your hand down your pants and your fingers soaked at the thought of your Toji, as so many nights go. But no: he’s here and lapping up your release like a starving man would. 

He stills by your pussy for a few moments, and you know he’s trying to will his erection down even just a little bit. His pants are strained and even friction against the mattress doesn’t do much for him—still, he doesn’t know if you want to take all of him again. He’d be okay with just your taste, but every second that passes without him being inside of you feels somewhat torturous–debilitating. You pick up on his struggles and tug at the strands of black hair you used to shampoo each evening.

“Toji,” you hum. “Want you inside of me. Need to feel it again.”

Your ex lover, though calling him such leaves a horrid taste in your mouth, climbs over you and takes both of your wrists to pin the above your head with one hand. He looks down at you with something in his gaze that you can’t quite pinpoint: anger? Hurt? Heat?

Regardless, he used his free hand to line up with your sopping entrance and push forward. Catching your lips between his in a kiss as he does so, Toji moans into the gasp you let out as he stretches you open. This is hauntingly familiar, the burn of his first thrust—so big that you can’t  completely get used to him no matter how often he’s working you open on his cock. You love it, you’d call yourself an addict if it were appropriate. 

He bottoms out, buries himself to the hilt inside of you and rests his forehead against yours. You half expect him to be mean. He used to fuck you rough when you were together and he was particularly stressed: he’s wrap a strong hand around your throat or push your face into the pillows and fuck you so hard he had to carry you to the shower to clean off. 

But Toji isn’t rough, even with his cock splitting you open and the anger of your leaving, he isn’t rough. He lets your wrists go and moves his hand to cup your face and just stare for a moment. You know the look in his eyes too well, something overwhelming washes over him, and you swear you can see a slight tremble to his lips. He’s beyond beautiful, eyes darting all over your face in hopes of memorising your every feature—as if you’re not already burnt into his mind. Like you’re not what he sees whenever he closes his eyes. 

“Too much?” you ask, feeling the tremor in his hands. 

Toji looks down at you and, with a dry mouth, manages a small “yeah.”

Your hand finds his face, thumb tracing over the scar on his lip in gentle strokes. Something soothing, you hope, for a man far from finding comfort. “You wanna stop?”

“God no,” Toji shakes his head. “Do you want to, uh—”

“Flip us over, Fushiguro.”

With his length still hidden inside of you, Toji swiftly flips the both of you over so that his back hits the mattress and you’re sat on his cock and staring down at him for once. His hands find your hips, still with a slight tremor to his grip but a little more comfort than before. Gravity helps you take Toji a little deeper than you had, so you lean forward a little and rest your hands on his chest. His heart thrums beneath your touch, not quite pounding but fast enough to make you smile.

“Let me take care of you,” you roll your hips a little. “It’s your birthday, after all.”

Toji looks almost like he’s going to protest, but ultimately takes his bottom lip between his teeth and nods; letting you slide up on his cock just to drop yourself back down. “Fuck, I–” 

He trails off, eyes screwed chut, and you lean forward to kiss the subtle curve of his nose. “You what?”

“I missed you,” his eyes are glossed when he opens them again to meet yours. You only get a glimpse of them before you’re pressing your lips to his in lieu of a million things you want to say to him. “Fucking missed you.”

Pulling away, you lift your hips up, feel the drag of his cock leaving you empty before you drop back down again and make the both of you moan in tandem with each other. Your eyes lock, his start to pool with tears. You can’t tell if he’s overwhelmed or upset or starting to be fucked so dumb he’s gone soft on you—but regardless, it’s a sight that tightens your beating heart.

You quicken your pace, revel in the way he fills you up: how he completes you. Your knees dig into the spring-loaded mattress as you ride his cock like you used to all that time ago. Every squeeze of your cunt around him makes the poor man choke a little on his breath, though you don’t slow down, not even when the tears start to fall. His cheekbones are painted glossy with his tears and, in favour of wiping them away, you dip down and lick a long strip up his cheek to taste the salt of his emotions on his tongue. It’s only fair, your taste still lingers on his. 

“I don’t like seeing you cry,” you whisper, kissing gently at his wet lashline. He grounds himself with his hands on your hips and takes a shaky breath in at the kisses you press across his tear-streaked face. He doesn’t try to hide his vulnerability—he knows there’s no point around you. Not when you’ve seen every broken part of him and still kissed him with a gentleness that stung more than any injury could.

“Can’t help it,” he murmurs as you ride him. “You do this to me.”

You slow your movements just enough to offer a reprieve, the steady roll of your hips becoming languid, deliberate. “I don’t mean to,” you reply softly, your lips brushing against his as you speak. 

Toji huffs out something between a laugh and a sob. “Liar. You always know what you’re doing.”

You let out a small breathy laugh and lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth. You start your pace up again, even faster than before: your thighs burn with the effort, but it’s worth it to see him unravel beneath you.

His head falls back against the pillow, exposing the column of his neck, and a low, desperate moan slips past his lips. He grips your thighs, but there’s no force behind his touch—only a trembling need as he lets you take control.

“You’re so good like this, letting me take care of you.”

His breath hitches, and his hands tighten on your thighs. “I—fuck, I can’t—” He’s rambling now, his words slurring as his breath becomes laboured and his hips start to thrust skywards into you. “Please—don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

“Shh,” you soothe, your hands sliding down to lace your fingers with his, pinning them to the mattress on either side of his head. “I’ve got you. Just let go, Toji.”

Wholly at your mercy, Toji screws his beautiful eyes shut and nods. Each heave from his chest stokes the flames that coil in your stomach  in desperate hopes of a release. He’s first to teeter over the edge of pleasure, with a wild thrust up into you and a very raw moan, or sob, that rips straight from his throat, he cums. He fills you up and, for only a moment, you’re thrown back a year into the past and this is any other night spent together. The heat of him, the sheer force of his climax, pushes you to your own precipice.

You follow him into oblivion soon after, your back arching and your head falling back as your orgasm crashes through you. The muscles of your core tighten around him, drawing out his pleasure even as yours consumes you in wave after wave of white-hot ecstasy. You milk him for all he has, every last drop of release that you’re greedy enough to take within you.

When the storm passes, you collapse onto his chest. The both of you are sheened with sweat and the cum that leaks from your cunt around his cock and it’s messy and sticky and domestic in a way you can’t explain. The rain outside starts to taper off, but you’ll use the weather as an excuse to stay the night regardless. You doubt Toji would let you leave even if you tried. 

“I love you,” he says. 

“I love you.” you reply. 

You don’t know what will happen come morning. The two of you are from two very different worlds now, but Toji’s hand comes up to cradle the back of your head. You can feel his heart beat, you can hear each intake of breath, you’re connected to him physically and, in a way, spiritually as well. 

You’re in his bed, the one that was once also yours. You’re safe, feeling nostalgic, and Toji Fushiguro is warm. Much warmer than any insulated townhouse.

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[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Relax - Lando Norris

<word count - 2206>

Another week over, and another week that had driven you absolutely insane. Lando had finished his race weekend a few days ago, but he had some media stuff to do - you never really cared for the details, and he never cared to tell you about them. 

You couldn't remember if he had said he'd be back in the morning of Friday or the evening, but you would soon find out as you walked through the front door. As long as he was there by the time you went to bed, it didn't matter.

The stairs up to your apartment felt agonising, each one bringing you a step closer to your legs buckling underneath you. You could barely get your key in the lock as it clicked open and you stumbled inside, the lights not being on.

You just assumed that Lando wasn't home, so you dropped your bag down next to the couch and walked through to the bedroom. "Holy fucking christ-" you started as you jumped out of your skin when you saw Lando laying in bed with his headphones in. 

"Shit, sorry baby, I didn't know you were back," he smiled, noticing your slightly shocked demeanor. 

"I didn't think you were here, you scared the bejesus out of me," you sighed, leaning back against the wall as you looked at him. He looked so cozy, bundled up in his favourite sweater with the covers pooling around his waist. 

It was raining outside, the small droplets running down the floor to ceiling windows that you had in your apartment. The atmosphere was perfect, and you'd have given anything to just flop down into bed and spend the rest of the night all nice and snuggled up.

But, it wouldn't have been so comfy. You were in desperate need of a shower, since your body felt downright icky due to a day of working. Your hair was greasy as hell too, so that needed some attention sooner rather than later.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to," he apologised, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and approaching you. Lando wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest, tucking your head under his chin. "You're cold," he mumbled, pulling you closer as if it would warm you up somehow. 

"I know, I'm going to go have a shower," you told him as he leant back to look down on you. You could see the hints of tiredness in his eyes that he tried to mask, but you knew him better than that. You knew he'd be asleep by the time you got back from your shower. 

"You think there's room for one more?" he smirked, planting a quick kiss on your forehead. As much as that would have been openly welcomed, you just didn't have the energy in you for that. Neither did he, but he was sure he'd perk up if you wanted to. 

"Not tonight, darling," you shook your head. Normally, Lando might pout a little, try and pick away those small inhibitions in your brain, but he fell at the first hurdle. 

"Fine, suit yourself," he chuckled, resting his head back on top of yours. "You sure you need a shower? I think you'd be a hell of a lot warmer with me in bed." he told you, and you couldn't help but agree.

"I know, but I feel all gross and my hair needs washing ASAP," you groaned into his chest. After a few minutes, you pulled away from him and sighed. "The quicker I get in and out, the quicker I can come to bed," you said, turning and walking towards the bathroom. 

Just as you were about to shut the door, Lando called out to you. "Hey baby, I've got an idea," 

"Yeah?" you cocked a curious eyebrow at him, leaning against the bathroom door frame. Lando couldn't help but think the sight of our figure being lit up from the back by bathroom lights was nothing short of angelic, but he had to keep such thoughts to himself.

He could admire your beauty in non-carnal ways, which was what he tended to do every minute of the day. "Run yourself a bath,"

"Lando, I really can't be bothered with all of that-"

"No, hey, c'mon. You've had a long day, baby. Let me pamper my girl a little, OK?" he said softly, ushering you into the bathroom and starting to fiddle with the taps on the bath. After setting the water running, he left the bathroom and you could hear him rummaging around in the closet.

"You get yourself settled, and I'll be there in a few," he told you, temporarily leaving you alone in the bathroom.

Eventually, the tub filled up and you stripped yourself of your clothes. It was nice to get them off your skin after having them on for so many hours. Sinking down into the hot water, your muscles practically groaned in gratitude.

The heat instantly seeped into your skin, providing pure relief to your body. "You comfy?" Lando asked, setting a mug of tea down onto the edge of the bath and kneeling down next to it. 

"Very," you responded, closing your eyes and leaning back against the back of the tub. 

"You said you wanted to wash your hair, right?" he checked, and you replied with a small hum of affirmation. "Come sit with your back to me, baby," he gently instructed, and you did as he said. The water sloshed around you, lapping against the edges of the tub. 

"And head back for me, gorgeous," he said, and you leant your head back so that you could see his upside down face. Lando smiled at you, tilting himself forward so that he could kiss you on the top of the head. "Can I take this out?" he asked, tugging at the bobble that was keeping all of your hair clustered together. 

"Course," you approved, and Lando's fingers made nimble work of teasing the bobble out of your hair while he tried not to pull on it. From the counter, he reached over to grab your hair brush and slowly started running it through the strands. 

"You know, it's not that greasy," he chuckled, knowing you hated your hair being even the tiniest bit dirty. Lando was gentle with brushing your hair, not wanting to pull on it or snag on any of the bigger knots that had tangled themselves in. 

"It's greasy enough to need washing," you countered, and he knew there was no convincing you otherwise. 

"OK baby, OK," he relented, setting the brush aside once your hair was tangle-free. "Close your eyes," he told you, and you heard the clanking of metal as he picked up the extendable part of the bath so that he could wet your hair. 

"Tell me if it's too hot," he said, turning on the water and letting it run down and over your hair. After a few moments, your hair was wet enough that he could put shampoo in. He picked up the bottle from the rack next to the shower, popping it open and squirting a fair amount into his hand. 

Slathering the viscous liquid onto the top of your hair, his fingers worked it in as they danced over your scalp. It was like your brain was being lulled to sleep, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to keep yourself awake. 

Once the top of your head was sufficiently lathered, Lando moved his hands away so that he could shampoo the rest of your hair. "Hmm..." you hummed in protest, opening your eyes to look at him.

"Was that nice, gorgeous?" he softly laughed, letting his fingers return back to your scalp and continuing their luxurious massage. You crooned in response, feeling too sleepy to give him a real answer to his question. 

"You know, I'll have to wash this out at some point," he teased.

"Yeah, but not now," you declined, and Lando was more than happy to oblige with your request. Despite his own tiredness, your relaxation was his, and there was no way he would rather spend his evenings than taking care of you. 

It gave him such a great sense of fulfilment and wholeness, knowing that you were settled, calm and all-round content. After this, you'd go to bed and he could hold you all night long, where you were safe. 

It was his favourite way to spend his time when he was at home, since moments like this felt few and far between during the racing season. It was nice to just forget about the rest of the world and focus on you, since his career often came first. 

As he rinsed the shampoo out of your hair, the suds slipped down your shoulders and your figure, and he could feel his throat going dry. Lando had to remind himself that tonight wasn't the night for that, but that didn't mean he wasn't tempted by the sight regardless. 

After working the conditioner into your hair, he left it to sit for a little bit. "You OK here for a bit while it works its magic?" he said, his hands moving down to your shoulders and gently massaging the tense muscles there. 

"Yeah, I'm good," you confirmed, just enjoy the tranquility of sitting in the warm water and being looked after by the love of your life. 

One thing that you could never say about Lando was that he didn't try. He always made the effort to a point where you sometimes felt guilty that you weren't doing enough for him in comparison to everything he did for you. 

Lando incessantly reassured that you were more than enough for him, and being attentive was just how he expressed his love for you. But, there was always that small part of you that didn't think that what you were doing was enough. 

"Do you want me to stay or do you want some quiet time?" he asked, not making any attempt to move from where he was knelt behind you.

"You can stay," you mumbled, opening your eyes to look at him was your head was still tipped back against the edge of the bathtub. He looked a little weird, but he was still just as gorgeous. He just chuckled softly, letting his hands still knead your muscles. 

You were nearly asleep as your eyes closed again, the warmth of the water and feeling of Lando's fingers were lulling you into a false sense of sleepiness. And you were tired as hell.

Lando couldn't help but smile, unable to help how adorable you looked: all mushy and tired as he took care of you. A few minutes went by as he let the conditioner work its magic in your hair, eventually having to rinse it out. 

"Gorgeous, you've gotta stay awake," he whispered, holding a hand over your eyes as the water carried the conditioner out of your hair. He was thorough in the process, not wanting to leave a single drop in. 

He left you in the bath a little longer, drying your hair with a towel until it wasn't dripping anymore. "Do you want me to use the hairdryer?"

"No, I'm too tired,"

"Baby you can't go to sleep with wet hair," he told you, and all you could do was groan in response. 

"I cannot be bothered and I do not care. Plus, if I get sick, I can take the day off work," you countered, and he couldn't help but hum in agreement. You worked some Saturdays, not for long, but he wanted to keep you at home with him everyday, all day. 

"Fine, just this once," he relented, putting your hair into a low bun at the back of your head and standing up from behind you. "I've left your clothes on the towel heater, I'll be in bed," he smiled, leaving the bathroom. 

Lazily, you got out of bath and drained the water, before drying yourself off and getting dressed in what he had left you. Once you were in your sweats and one of his jumpers, you sluggishly walked to your bedroom and flopped into bed. 

"Tired, baby?" he asked, a hint of teasing in his tone. 

"Mhm," you hummed in response, snuggling into his side without giving him a second to move. Lando just wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. He turned off the light and sunk further into the mattress, the only sounds in the room being your soft breathing and the patters of the rain on the windows.  

"I love you," Lando whispered through the darkness, holding you a little tighter against him. 

"Love you too," you mumbled back. He could barely make it out, but he knew what you had said after hearing it so many times. It was barely a few minutes before you had fallen asleep. Despite how tired Lando also was, he just wanted to relish in the feeling of holding you for a little longer.

No matter how far away he was, or how close, he always longed to have you by his side, and here you were. Right where you were meant to be, in your bed, snuggled up to him. And he wouldn't have it any other way. 

A/N - Just a little something I whipped up a while ago and thought it would be a waste not to share! A reblog would be really appreciated, and I have posted my upload schedule, which you can find here. Love y'all 💖

|masterlist|something similar: Pluvial - CL16|

[fee224]

Mr snowman

Rafe cameron x overlooked!reader

Rafe arrived at half six, sharp. You had been coerced into inviting rafe Cameron for dinner with all your sisters, and parents on Friday. You assured him he didn’t have to come, if there was a party on or he didn’t want to, but he reassured you he would be there, which make your heart flutter all week despite hating family dinners.

You were in a dress, same as all the girls in your family as he strolled into the kitchen following your mother, with flowers for your mother, and you!

You felt silly clambering off the kitchen island stool and accepting his flowers and kiss on the forehead. He wasn’t your boyfriend, but you knew you weren’t his friend, you just had to hang in there with hope.

His eyes once taking in your outfit, chuckled at the sight of your fancy dress and Ugg mini slippers.

Your sisters came traipsing in shortly with each other or their children, boyfriends and husbands. Your mother gushing over each of them, and introducing rafe to each one, even attempting to set him up with one of your sisters.

The boys were the first sat at the table, including rafe who had no trouble shooting the breeze. You cringed at yourself for actually being jealous.

Then your sisters while you wordlessly helped your mother set the table and bring the plates to the table until you were sat beside rafe, he turned around to give you a comforting smile before thanking your mother.

“Of course rafe! You’re welcome any time, you hear me!” Your parents continued as you forked peas.

Conversation was effortless for him, and you didn’t feel so special, he was naturally good at this stuff. He kept dragging you into the conversation just for you to stare at him and mutter a small “Yeah”.

You would think this was his family, the way he was desperately including you but the dirty looks coming your way from your brother in laws made you want to sink into the ground.

After everyone was finished, conversation continued. You sat, your vision shifting to outside the window, to your plate to your mother whenever she would speak. Rafes hand slipped onto your thigh and rubbed gently as some type of soother.

Then you helped your mother to wash and dry dishes, you told rafe it’s fine to go into the living room with everyone, you’ll be in after your done and he just stared at you trying to figure out the hidden meaning, there wasn’t one, you were simply uncomfortable.

“You complain y/n, but you never make the effort!” Your mother turned from the cabinet to give you a stern look as you frowned weakly into the bubbles in the sink. “Sorry, I don’t know how” you croaked, you truly had no excuse but you didn’t exactly expect sympathy.

The fire was roaring in the living room as you sat on the rug, next to rafes feet, where he sat on the end of the couch. Your niece was in your lap as you stroked through her hair, putting her to sleep slowly, she missed her nap today.

You weren’t paying attention to the conversation until you heard your name, your head springing up from across the room.

“Y/n, you remember mr snowman?” Shilah sipped her white wine, on the arm of her long term boyfriend. Rafe nudged you with his foot, presuming it was a cute memory from when you were children. You returned the small smile back up at him.

“Yeah, s’all kinda blurry” your head bowed to focus harder on your nieces hair.

“Rafe! You have to hear this” Mandy snorted and nudged Campbell who looked entirely uncomfortable.

“Okay okay! Y/n is seven and hasn’t uttered a word, little on the slow side weren’t ya?” You couldn’t tell who was speaking, trying to drown it all out. Why were they telling him this. He’s going to leave.

“She used to run off into the woods behind our house whenever she’d cry, she’d come back with bruises all over her body and wouldn’t fucking show anyone because this mr snowman had healing touch” it was all true unfortunately. You had convinced yourself a snowman was real, was your friend, was magical, all so you didn’t have to show your parents your bruises, tell them your feelings.

“Everyone thought she was like messed up…. Like in the head. She had to go to special doctors and speech therapists” another voice added and you could feel the flame on your neck, cheeks, ears, feet, between your breasts and under your armpits.

You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t see him and know he’s seeing the real you back.

“What a waste of money” a deep voice added “I mean don’t worry babe, we are loaded” and then a sound of a giggly kiss as you felt your dinner start to unravel.

As you stood up dizzly, all you noticed was rafes clenched fists as you excused your self.

“I need tuh-“ you breathed out heavily, stumbling out of the door.

Footsteps were following you as your knees dropped underneath you, elbows leaning on the toilet seat. A thick hand gathered all your hair and held a hand to your forehead, the cold pressure relieving your confusion.

“You’re good doll, my little darlings okay, hm.” You heaved at his words, tears streaming down your numb cold cheeks as you fell onto his lap, leaning against his chest on the tile floor as he stroked you kindly.

You focussed on the material of his jumper, the feeling of your legs touching, the sound of his voice, the words he was repeating as bible.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen, I just cause trouble” you mumbled, distressed, still only half conscious as he just responded in forehead kisses, and cheek kisses, temple kisses and tip of your nose kisses. You floated away. Meeting a slow void filled with hurt and love. You clung to rafe as he protected you from the voices inside your own head, and the ones outside, sleeping down the hall, or down the street.

“Doesn’t sound like you like talking hmm? You can talk to me y/n” his fingers were tracing your back. Leaving you dizzier and healing you in the same breath.

‘Please let me keep this one’ you silently prayed.

- fee xxx

[starredblood]

NOWHERE GIRL

PART ONE

kang-saebyeok x fem!reader

synopsis: desperate to find a place to stay, your former high school friend ji-yeong let’s you crash at her apartment for the week. but things get complicated when her roommate doesn’t seem too happy about your arrival.

wc. 1.6k

warnings: none? | authors note: first ever fic woo-hoo! will try to finish this fic series before classes start next week but not sure how many parts this will end up being lol.

(nowhere girl masterlist)

“No. Absolutely not.”

Ji-yeong groans and throws her head back in tantrum. But if Sae-byeok says no, then it’s a no. Always being firm on her stance, it’s practically impossible to make Sae-byeok change her mind.

“But she’s literally right outside of the apartment building. Come on just one week and she’ll be gone like that!” Ji-yeong snaps her finger and shoots her roommate a sly smile. But because Sae-byeok was anything less than swayed she had to resort to pouting. “Please, Sae-byeok. After I ran away she was the only person willing to let me stay at their place until I got back on my feet. It’ll be awkward if I couldn’t do the same for her. And—And she’s such a sweet girl, nothing like me because I know you’d hate the idea of having two me’s running around!”

Sae-byeok rolls her eyes. She put herself through mental and physical obstacles to finally be able to afford to rent an apartment with Ji-yeong and to finally be the guardian Cheol deserves. After two months of tranquility in their new place, Ji-yeong suddenly wants to bring a fourth person into their tight knit sanctuary. A total stranger—she can’t imagine the discomfort Cheol will feel. It took him an entire summer to get used to Ji-yeongs presence.

“No.” Sae-byeok says, unamused.

“I will do you and Cheol’s chores for a month and you can hog the television as much as you want I won’t complain! Come on, just one week.” she crosses her fingers and begins batting her eyelashes.

Sae-byeok pauses to think for a minute.

“Just one week.”

“Yup! One week.” Ji-yeong nods.

“And you have to pick up Cheol from school on Mondays.”

“Ugh, fine whatever. So, is that a yes?” Ji-yeong groans. When Sae-byeok hesitantly nods she raises a fist in the air in victory. “Yes! Thank you, Sae, thank you! I’ll bring her up now—don’t worry she’s as harmless as a butterfly.”

Ji-yeong sprints to the front door and Sae-byeok slumps down on the couch. She grabs the throw pillow closest to her and presses it to her face to let out a massive groan. By the time Sae-byeok finishes letting out her frustrations on the pillow she hears the front door swing open and two people giggling like schoolgirls.

“Sae-byeok come here I want to introduce you to my ex-guardian angel!” Ji-yeong says, enthralled.

Frowning, Sae-byeok removes the pillow off her face and sluggishly gets off the couch. She’s not looking forward to this dreadful upcoming week with you around.

From first impressions, Ji-yeong was right about your delicate appearance. From your light denim wash overalls to your chipped pink nail polish, you were definitely the opposite of both Sae-byeok and Ji-yeong aesthetic wise.

“Hi, Sae-byeok it’s so nice to meet you!” you greet bashfully and give her a courteous bow. “Thank you so much for letting me crash here for a bit. I’ll do my best to not be a disturbance or anything like that.”

The moment you locked eyes with Sae-byeok you felt intimidated. Ji-yeong previously warned you about her cold nature so you braced yourself to be iced as you made your way to their apartment.

Sae-byeok bowed back ever so slightly, her hands dug deep in the pockets of her sweats, and her lean body easily towering over you.

Ji-yeong sensed that the tension was about to become awkward so she grabs you by your arm and leads you to her bedroom.

“My bed is small but we can definitely both fit as long as you don’t mind a little contact.” Ji-yeong explains.

You glanced around her room. It was messy, with posters placed crookedly on the wall, socks and undergarments scattered all over the floor, and a bag of open chips on the undone bed.

“Oh, uh, I’ll just sleep on the couch I don’t want to bother you anymore than I already have.” you say, laughing nervously. Was it too presumptuous of you to oppose her offer because of her messy room? You didn’t lie technically. You did feel ashamed to have to ask Ji-yeong for this huge favor.

“Are you sure?” she raises a brow.

“Positive.”

⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

Ji-yeong was sworn to secrecy by you not to tell Sae-byeok why you had to stay at their place temporarily. But Sae-byeok isn’t annoyed because she wants to know what happened to you, it’s because she had the decency to let you stay so she has the right to know some backstory—but Ji-yeong remains tight lipped.

Sae-byeok was firm on having her walls secured throughout your stay.

The day you arrived, all Sae-byeok kept worrying about was how Cheol will take the news as she made her way to pick him up from school.

When you and Cheol met, the boy timidly greeted you before scurrying off to the room him and Sae-byeok share. He remained there for the rest of the day and Sae-byeok had to pull her roommate aside to tell her about how awful this plan was and that you had to leave immediately.

“She’s making him uncomfortable!” Sae-byeok argues.

Ji-yeong rubs her fingers on the sides of her temples. “Calm down, jeez. I’m telling you Cheol will warm up to her—“

“He shouldn’t have to warm up to her because she shouldn’t even be here.”

“Sae-byeok, you’re being dramatic. Just give him a day or two and he’ll be fine trust me.”

Sae-byeok wasn’t happy about this situation at all.

The morning after, Sae-byeok wakes up alone in her room with no sight of Cheol. She doesn’t think much of it at first since it’s Saturday, until she remembers that you were here. So she leaps from her bed and basically sprints to the living room. And to her complete and utter surprise, she sees you helping Cheol draw on a sketch book.

“Be careful with oil pastels, they break easily if you put too much pressure on them so draw on the paper lightly.” you advise the boy, your voice soothing and assuring.

Cheol’s tongue poke out between his teeth in concentration as he scribbles lines across the paper.

That’s when you sensed a set of eyes on you. You whip your head around and end up making eye contact with Sae-byeok.

“Morning.” you mumble to her before focusing back on Cheol’s painting because you can’t look into her eyes another second longer.

Sae-byeok inhales and exhales deeply before making her way to the kitchen. She’s conflicted. Cheol never became comfortable with someone this quickly. What, just because you can draw you are so likable?

Soon after, Ji-yeong pops out of her room in her work vest. When she heads towards the kitchen, she takes one quick glance at you and Cheol before smirking.

“I told you.” she whispers to Sae-byeok. The taller girl only scoffs as her response.

You appear right after. “Good morning, Ji-yeong.”

“Hey. Did you sleep well on the couch?”

“Yeah, I did. Thanks again—for everything. Both of you.” you say. You suck in a deep breath, hesitant and careful with your actions. “So uh, I’m working later this afternoon at the art gallery I told you about. I was wondering if you’d all like to go see the art there? All free, of course.”

Sae-byeok raises an eyebrow. Was this your way of getting into everyone’s good graces?

Ji-yeong shrugs. “Why not? It sounds cool. I get off work early today and Sae-byeok—“

“Is busy.” Sae-byeok cuts her off.

You nod. “Of course, no problem.”

“You are?” Ji-yeong retorts.

Sae-byeok throws her a glare trying to communicate with her eyes to tell her to be quiet. Ji-yeong gulps.

“Oh, yeah you are. Sorry I forgot.” she laughs. “But I can go—and take Cheol, of course. That poor boy needs to explore the world and I’m sure an art gallery will cultivate his—“

“Stop talking.” Sae-byeok through her teeth. You look back and forth at the girls, nervous that you’re about to start a squabble between them.

“How about next time?” you say. “I’m interning there until the end of summer break so you guys have plenty of time to schedule a day to come visit.”

“Great!” Ji-yeong beams. She grabs the sandwich Sae-byeok has been preparing for herself and stuffs it in her lunch box. “I gotta go I’m already late so see you guys later!”

Sae-byeok mutters curses aimed at her roommate. She begins prepping another sandwich until she realizes that you were still standing there fiddling with your hands.

“What do you want?” she asks, hostile yet quiet in classic Sae-byeok fashion.

Your eyes widen and your face becomes flushed at her aggression, almost forgetting what you came here to do.

“I just wanted to apologize if I overstepped my boundaries.” you explain, your gentle voice being a contrast to Sae-byeok’s. “I was working on my art project and I saw your little brother was watching me curiously so I let him play around with my old oil pastels. I hope you don’t mind.”

Sae-byeok sighs. She tilts her head slightly to observe Cheol who was in his own world coloring. She never even considered to buy him anything to draw with—she can only afford enough for food and shelter.

“It’s fine.”

Not wanting to pester her any longer you go back to the couch. Cheol starts explaining his drawing but you start zoning out trying to decide if you should just walk out of this apartment and never look back. Right now, you would rather venture out on the streets than have Sae-byeok constantly ice you for a week. But can you really survive out there? Maybe if you just avoid her for the entirety of your stay you will be fine.

[melangedeparfums]

PAINT STARS AROUND MY SCARS

SCENERY OF LIFE SERIES

masterlist

husband!chris x wife!reader

cw: angst, emotional&physical scars, mention of trauma, fluff, chris unsure of his physical appearance, not proofread, first time writing Chris, enjoy! <3

19:43

THE STORM outside had died down to a simple whisper along the sound of rain falling against the windows. The lights are low, the moonlight peaking through the curtains, dancing between the shadows. The only sound was the soft rustling of sheets under your body and of your heartbeat - steady, slow, strong.

Beside you, he laid on his side, half-covered by the blanket, shirtless under the soft fabric, his eyes closed. The lamp’s glow fell across the landscape of his body - battered, strong, the marble carved with scars that didn’t ask for attention but commanded it anyway.

Curled beside him, legs tangled, your hand rested just above his heart, feeling the pulse under your fingertips, your attention shifting slightly. Without even thinking, your delicate fingers traced a line over his chest - one long, pale scar that curved all across his ribs, branding the smoothness of the skin.

Chris wasn’t sleeping - his attention still on every single of your movements, a shiver running through his spine, his heartbeat stuttering. He never understood why you gave so much attention to the terrible scars that marked his body. Anybody would have looked away.

But you weren’t anybody.

“This one?” The question lingered in the air, your eyes on his face. He was quiet for a moment.

Every scar was imprinted in his mind. Every battle. Every loss.

“Grenade. Raccoon City. Blew through a wall. Thought I was done for.”

He remembered all too well. The fear. The screams. The smell of gunpowder clinging desperately to his skin even though he tried to wash it off too many times, dragging him again and again into his worst night terrors. He swallowed the lump in his throat - a long sigh leaving his lips.

You hummed. Then continued. Your fingers traced another scar, smaller, faded over time on the stomach - an older one, that almost went unnoticed if you weren’t that close to him.

“Knife?”

“Close fight. Lost the blade, won the war.”

You shook your head softly.

“Your body’s a battlefield.”

“It’s a job.”

You met his eyes. Stern. Quiet. Tired. Eyes that saw too many things, witnessing the kind of horrors nobody could have imagined. Eyes that spoke loud and stayed quiet at the same time.

“You say that like it doesn’t break you.”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t bring himself to admit it, to question whether it did break him or not. He already knew the answer. Every mark was a physical reminder of the emotional agony he went thought, of his demons lurking in the shadow of his nightmares. Looking at them was already painful, but somehow, your hands on his body were a soothing balm to his wounded soul.

You leaned closer, pulling him from his own thoughts, as you pressed your lips gently to a jagged mark on his naked shoulder, his eyes fluttering under the dim lights. He didn’t expect it - the curiosity yes, the disgust even, but this? His chest felt too heavy, his throat even painful.

“You’re not just skin and war stories, Chris.” Your hand glided down. Another scar. Another memory. Your voice dropped to a soft whisper. “You remember the pain, don’t you?”

“I remember the silence after.” His rough voice made his chest rumble.

The silence.

Defeating. Echoing in his ears, his heartbeat in his eardrums louder than the religious silence that surrounded him.

You looked up. His eyes were dark, but open this time. Exposed. You’d seen his body before—but now?

This was him letting you in.

Seeing him vulnerable, naked, fragile under your gaze. Seeing him as the man - not as the wounded soldier he thought everybody was looking at, pitying him or judging him for his actions.

“Then let me give it sound,” you murmured. “A voice. A story. Something soft to rest inside all the noise.”

You moved down, tracing each scar with kisses, not for desire - but reverence. Naming them. Not as wounds, but chapters. He couldn’t believe it. What did he do in his life to deserve someone like you? Someone that would love him unconditionally? It was almost too much - his heart on the edge of his lips.

And then - quietly, unprompted - you began telling him your own story.

Where you got that old burn on your ankle (a spilled tea kettle at five). The line near your wrist (a childhood tree branch). The emotional scar of being too smart, too intense, too much for the men who came before him.

He listened. Barely blinking. Like he knew he’s being entrusted with something rare.

“I’m not perfect either,” you said. “But I’m yours if you want me.”

His hand came up—calloused, warm—and cradled your jaw, this thumb caressing your right cheek tenderly.

“I want all of it,” he said. “Every scar. Every unfinished chapter.”

He kissed you then. Not out of passion - but gratitude. Like you gave him something no one else dared to: softness without pity. Intimacy without question. Love without conditions.

And for the first time in years, Chris Redfield slept without dreaming of war.

────

i just want to give him a hug ☹️

[lvmimis]

cw: comfort, minimal hurt. implied break/break-up with retained feelings on both sides.

Midoriya is nothing if not persistent, and you have to hand it to him, he knows exactly how to pinpoint the soft center of your very heart. 

(Alternatively, perhaps all of it is soft for him, much to your chagrin, but that’s an issue to settle in due time.)

You can see from the inside of your apartment that he is standing at the front door, an overly ornate boxed and ribboned cake in his hands, and notably still clad in his hero suit, rocking back and forth slowly on his heels as he waits for you to open the door. He must have just gotten off patrol, you figure, as it is close to ten p.m. but in just a little over 2 hours, it will be Christmas and he should be at home with family, or perhaps someone that he loves, not here at your doorstep making another desperate bid for attention. 

You didn’t expect to see anyone tonight.

Exhausted from your own late shift, you’d immediately changed into pajamas, deciding that tomorrow’s hotpot dinner with Class 1A and a call to your family overseas would be as much Christmas as you would allow yourself to have. Your home is barely decorated, a simple wreath on the outside of your door being the limit of your effort for cheer (although the few scattered gifts in the corner of your living room from friends may add an extra element of festivity despite your best efforts, or lack thereof). By no means are you a Grinch, but Izuku must have the wrong door and wrong set of expectations.

He knocks again and you watch, deciding how believable it would be for you to pretend to go to bed. As you contemplate, you can see him pull out his phone and text, and you aren’t exactly surprised when your phone vibrates a few moments later, but you are surprised by the message.

Merry Christmas! If you don’t open the door, I’ll just leave the cake out for you, but I think it would taste even better if we shared it.

He knows you’re wide awake. You open the door quickly, your cheeks hot with embarrassment, but he’s unsurprised, smiling widely at you.

“Hey.”

His generous smile makes your stomach turn. 

“Why are you here, Midoriya?”

His smile doesn’t flicker in the least; rather, it widens.

“I wanted to see you. Can I come in?”

You’ve already let him in naturally, so it’s almost patronizing that he asks. You follow him inside, watching him take his shoes off at the genkan before asking any more questions, and he quickly deposits the cake at the kitchen table, before looking back at you. 

Your arms are crossed over your oversized T-shirt, just as wrinkled as the cotton shorts that peek underneath. Izuku considers for a moment that perhaps he is overstepping and frowns.

“Were you going to bed?”

You shake your head no. “You look like you’re coming right off the street, is everything okay?”

Izuku nods. “Perfect. I thought if I got home and changed first I’d be here too late, and I’ve been holding onto this bad boy since the bakery closed at 6pm so I thought my luck was about to run out.”

You glance at the strawberry sponge cake that looks somehow still pristine through the clear packaging and wonder if he just had a really uneventful night or he just took a special amount of attention to making sure nothing came to harm it. 

The idea of him holding it close to his chest makes you scrunch your face.

“Christmas Eve is for dates.”

Izuku’s emerald-like eyes are bright and hopeful as he agrees, as if you’re stating the obvious.

“Yeah. I’m thinking I came to the right place.”

Despite yourself, you bite your lower lip, the warmth in your cheeks now spreading to your ears. Unable to look at him any longer, you go to your cupboard and search for forks and plates. He makes his way to the kitchen sink as you fumble around to wash his hands, grabbing a few napkins on his way back to the table.

Izuku thanks you as you slice equal pieces for the two of you then waits, expectantly, until you bring the first bite to your lips before he does so himself. There’s something about the way that he watches your lips move that has you feeling a little too seen, but some of that has always been his natural superpower, quirkless or not. 

Observation. Knowing you as if he could sense your soul, and responding accordingly.

“Is it good?” he asks, as you take another eager bite, and you nod.

“Amazing,” you admit, and he beams, smiling from ear to ear. You expect him to give you details of where he got it or how but he chooses to say nothing instead, allowing you space to speak first.

You keep quiet as you eat at first, but find yourself looking at him a little too long, fixating on the way his suit spandex fits a little too snugly at the shoulders these days, and how thick his bicep is for the simple act of lifting a fork to his mouth. You consider for a moment that perhaps you should simply do it for him, but dispel that thought with a bit of shame.

You’re supposed to be playing hard to get, even if the fact of the matter is that you’ve been gotten, long ago perhaps even. 

How long will you continue to do this? He’s already told you he’ll do anything he can to win your heart back, even if it���s barely his fault he lost it in the first place.

You cut yourself another slice.

“Izuku, I still need more time,” you finally admit in a small voice. Izuku doesn’t look up from his cake slice, and you can tell this time it’s because he is still somewhat upset by your words, but he hums in assent.

“I understand.”

There’s the smallest waver in his voice that makes your heart wrench, even if it’s just for a moment.

The strawberry slices in every bite sweeten the bitter taste in your mouth regardless, and perhaps the truth is you’ll never truly know how to conceive of his name in your mouth as anything other than the finest sugar.

“Izuku…” you whisper again.

He looks at you directly in the eyes this time, warm and attentive. You’re reminded of the first time he told you he loved you, then the second, then the third, then more.

You set your plate down and come around the table, and as if he knows - he always knows - he pulls back his chair, and you find yourself settling into his lap, your arms around his neck.

Perhaps by time, you meant a matter of seconds.

Your head tilts upwards and your lips meet, and he tastes like Christmas cake and love.

“I need more time,” you repeat again, between kisses. His arms hold you tightly around your waist, and he nods, lids heavy with desire as he waits for you to continue.

“... so can you please stay the night?”

[queen-of-reptiles]

𝚂𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚃𝚆𝙾

description: in which lucy bronze's younger sister is trying to hide her relationship with a fellow Barca player - but how long did they really think they could hide?

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

mapi leon x bronze!reader

part one here

part three here

part two of the 'hidden' universe - mapi's version

ona batlle x putellas!reader here

disclaimer: this is all fiction do not take any of this seriously !

warnings: swearing, smut, MINORS DNI - cunnilingus, fingering, tit sucking - cuteness, fighting, slight angst between sisters, injury and assault

SMUT (ALMOST AT START)

MINORS DNI

18+

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

y/n felt sick. Keira was staring her and Mapi down and the three were sat in silence as Bagheera finished the left overs of Mapi and y/n's food.

"I cannot believe this." Keira sighs, running a hand down over her hair.

"Look Keira I know." y/n sighs and Keira looks at her phone before shaking her head.

"I have got to get back." Keira sighs, checking her phone as she stands up. Mapi grabs the food and takes it to the kitchen, y/n following Keira to the door where they step outside.

y/n lets out a long sigh, placing her head in her hands and Keira brings her in for a hug, running her hand down y/n's back calmingly as the girl panicked.

"I can see how happy you are with her." Keira admits and y/n nods. "You've made a mess of it by lying but I understand why." Keira admits.

"I just love her Keira. So much." y/n admits and Keira sighs, not sure who y/n was talking about.

"I know kiddo. I know." Keira promises.

The two then pull away and Keira sends her a stern look, y/n nodding in understanding that she was going to have to tell Lucy over the next few days.

"You have to tell her. Before she finds out." Keira tells her and y/n nods.

Keira then kisses her cheek and sets on her way home, y/n walking back into the room, Mapi waiting awkwardly in the entryway as y/n finally gets back in.

"What are we going to do Maps?" y/n asks her as the blonde pulls her in for a tight hug.

"Have sex?" Mapi suggests. y/n sighs but can't help but laugh.

"Mapi!" y/n chides, shaking her head at her girlfriend's teen boy attitude.

"I'm serious. I think better after." Mapi states and y/n snorts shaking her head as she looks at the woman who grins. "We will figure it out mi amor, we always do." Mapi promises.

"Okay." y/n nods.

"We can have sex?" Mapi grins and y/n laughs, but she can see the turn in Mapi's eyes as the blonde happily grabs her head and guides their lips together.

The two meet in a tangle of breathy moans and invading tongues, Mapi's hands guiding themselves carefully around y/n's body, knowing exactly where to squeeze to draw out the groans she adored.

The two tumbled into the bedroom, Mapi's kisses pressing down y/n's neck, nipping at her collarbone which brings y/n's chest up for a moment as she gasps.

Mapi threw y/n's top over her shoulder, the blonde deciding to wrry about washing later, her lips instead tracing a patter down and toward y/n's nipples which had pebbled to attention.

Mapi's lips enclosed around the right nipple, sucking at it as her teeth supplied a small amount of pressure around the bud. y/n groaned and her hands buried into Mapi's hair.

Mapi's tongue flicked at y/n's nipple repeatedly, making sure that the sensitive gasps coming from y/n were frequent before switching to the left breast.

Mapi knee comes to meet the gap between y/n's thighs, y/n moans as Mapi places pressure against her, the Spaniard moving her knee to rub directly against y/n's clit.

A gasp falls from y/n's throat as Mapi pulls her pants and underwear from her, the blonde desperate to taste her lover which she wastes no time doing.

Mapi's tongue runs up between y/n's lips, tasting the wet arousal which coated her pussy and y/n lets out a moan as her head clouds over.

Mapi's mouth was always something y/n couldn't get over, her fingers, her tongue, she could make y/n feel things she never thought possible and make noises which were almost feral.

"Maps. Jesus." y/n groaned out as Mapi's tongue lapped at her seeping hole, the woman's hands gripping at her hips to keep her still.

It seemed laughable, how worried y/n was minutes ago about her sister finding out and the way the air was thick with sex now, the entire feel of the apartment had changed in moments.

y/n moaned out, Mapi's hands gripping harder as y/n's hands rested over Mapi's, the feeling of the woman's tongue between her walls making her gush as Mapi slowly pushed in and out with her tongue.

y/n whined the slowly developing knot in her stomach causing sweat to form on her forehead and rising chest. Mapi pulled her tongue from her, returning to circling her throbbing clit as she slid a hand from underneath y/n's.

Slowly Mapi continued her tongues strokes as a finger slowly poked in, pushing up between the spongey walls of y/n which practically sucked the digit inside.

Mapi moved her finger slowly, pushing a second one in, y/n moaning out as her head moved back. Mapi was slow with her movements, eyes watching y/n with dark arousal.

y/n moaned again, Mapi curing her fingers as she smiled against y/n's clit, letting her teeth graze the throbbing bud which caused y/n's chest to stutter.

Mapi continued her fingers slow, long stroking movements, and y/n's stomach spasmed, her orgasm washing over her before she could speak out.

No moans left her as her mouth remained open in shock, breaths escaping her as Mapi kept her fingers inside, knowing having them in her would help y/n as she worked her down.

Once y/n had regained a space of consciousness Mapi was next to her, watching her with a soft grin, lips red and plump as she stroked y/n's hair lovingly.

y/n leant up, pressing their lips together as her hand reached down towards Mapi's joggers, but the Spaniard stopped her with a gentle grip.

"No Mi Amor, just lay with me for now." Mapi said softly. y/n smiled leaning against Mapi's now bare shoulder, knowing the dirty blonde preferred bare skin on skin contact.

It was just another reason y/n loved her relationship with Mapi so much, they didn't both need to give and receive during sex, Mapi found eating her out just as satisfying as being eaten out.

y/n had never been with someone so attentive, so caring and someone who didn't need something in return for the pleasurable act she would commit.

"I love you Mapi." y/n said softly, hands linked together as she pressed a soft kiss against the tattoo on her neck.

"I love you too." Mapi promises her, before pressing a long kiss to her forehead.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

The next day, Mapi and y/n arrived to their final training session before Athletico, Lucy was getting out of her car with Keira and did a double take when she saw y/n and Mapi get out of the same car.

y/n ignored her sister, instead hugging Ona who sent her and Mapi a wide eyed look of shock as the three walked in together, Keira winced as Lucy's eyes narrowed.

"What the... why is y/n getting a lift with Mapi?" Lucy asked and Keira sighed shrugging.

Lucy pushed from Keira, following after the trio but furrowed her brows when she saw Mapi talking with Alexia, and y/n and Ona giggling at the lockers.

"So, why did you arrive with Mapi?" Lucy asks y/n sliding next to her.

"Oh, she picked me up this morning." y/n shrugged and tried not to wince as Keira let out a sigh. "Can I talk to you later?" y/n asked Lucy who nodded, worry in her eyes.

"Yeah, of course squirt." Lucy says, pressing a kiss to y/n's forehead before going to change. Keira sends y/n a nod and the girl sighs running out to training.

y/n felt as if she could hardly focus the next two hours. Her passes were sloppy, her movements sudden and late, because the only thing which had filled her body was guilt.

Mapi had noticed and as everyone trudged to lunch y/n found herself pulled into an empty physio room with her girlfriend watching her concerned.

"¿Qué te pasa bebé?" Mapi asks, hands cupping y/n's face.

What is the matter baby?

"I can't even look at her Maps. God, I feel sick." y/n admits softly, eyes filling with tears which instantly Mapi bent down to kiss away.

Just as the blonde's lips touched y/n's in the hope to calm her guilt the two were ripped apart, a blur of brown hair pushing Mapi back, two people shouting to pull her back.

"The fuck Leon!" Lucy shouts and y/n's heart could have stopped in that moment. Bile rose in her throat and fear shook her bones.

"Lucy." y/n tries, looking back at Ona and Keira who were trying to pull her away.

Lucy however pulled away from them and jumped at Mapi, anger clear on her face as she shoved the blonde harshly into the wall behind her.

Mapi tried to push back, though it was weakly done and y/n jumped in front of the blonde, fear gripping her as Lucy stopped her actions, shoulders tensed and jaw twitching.

"y/n move." Lucy ordered but y/n's head shook. "Move." Lucy demanded again.

"Luce, it wasn't what it looked like." y/n began and Lucy scoffed, Keira moving next to her.

"It looked like Leon was putting moves on my baby sister." Lucy huffs and y/n bites at her lip.

"Well, I'm her girlfriend so I think that's allowed." y/n says, biting the bullet as Lucy pauses, looking between the two.

"No." Lucy says and y/n pauses furrowing her brows.

"You can't just say no." y/n denies as Mapi comes to stand next to her.

"Yes I can." Lucy nods. "She's 28." Lucy adds.

"Same difference as you and Kei." y/n says and Lucy shakes her head.

"It's not the same." Lucy denies and y/n scoffs and she looks at Mapi. "So, you're with my sister, my baby sister? She's 22 fucking years old." Lucy rants at her.

"I have loved her the second I met her Lucia." Mapi denies and Lucy scoffs, throwing her hands up.

"How long have these hookups been happening?" Lucy demands angrily.

"We've been together nine months." y/n tells her calmly and Lucy's eyes widen.

"9 months?" She asks softly.

"Lucy. Look at how you reacted, how could I tell you?" y/n asks her.

Lucy however was looking at her hands, before looking over at Ona who clearly was not shocked, and she scoffed shaking her head as she turned on her heel.

"Luce." y/n tries but Lucy shakes her head.

"Don't." Lucy denies. "Just don't." She sighs but y/n follows her into the corridor.

"We have to talk about this Lucy." y/n tries and Lucy shakes her head.

"She's too old for you." Lucy says angrily.

"No I am not." Mapi denies.

"Stay out of this!" Lucy snaps at her. "You lied, you have hardly ever lied to me like this." Lucy says to her sister. "How can we talk about this?" She asks.

"Because I need you to understand." y/n tries.

"But I don't!" Lucy yells. "You're my baby sister and now all I know is that you have lied to me for what? For a series of hookups that won't last?" Lucy asks her sister.

"Lucia." Mapi warns, anger in her voice.

"She's fucking 22!" Lucy yells.

"Old enough to make her own decisions!" Mapi defends back.

"But I won't let her make the same mistakes!" Lucy shouts back and y/n can feel her heart hammering.

"But I haven't, not with Mapi." y/n promises her but Lucy just scoffs.

"Even so, you then lied about it." Lucy practically spits at her sister who lets out a small sob, tears in her eyes as she always hated fighting with Lucy. "Don't you dare cry." Lucy denies.

"Lucy please." y/n tries, though her voice had cracked.

"No you want to be an adult, you be one, you don't cry and look me in the eyes and tell me the 9 months worth of lies were worth it. That our trust was worth this." Lucy hisses.

y/n gulped, because it wasn't, nothing would ever be worth Lucy to her, but this Lucy, the overprotective and cruel angry Lucy, yes, Mapi was worth that.

"Yes, it was worth it." y/n says, eyes meeting Lucy's with a stone filled security that made Mapi take her hand and Lucy scoffs.

"You make me sick." Lucy denies and Keira sighs.

"Lucy." She chides just as Alexia rounds the corner, confusion in her eyes before she sees the current predicament and pauses.

"Are we all okay?" Alexia asks as Lucy scoffs and grabs her bag and walks toward the door. "Lucia?" Alexia asks.

But Lucy doesn't answer, she just leaves the front doors and everyone can hear her car drive off and y/n turns from Alexia, trying to get her breathing together.

"The worst part is over chica." Alexia says softly but y/n shakes her head.

"Oh no Alexia. It has only just begun." y/n warns her before she walks away, needing to cry in peace, because her sister had just left training half-way through because y/n had been selfish enough to break their relationship.

Though as she looked down at the doodle of biro from Mapi which had been yet to wash off from last night, she didn't regret it, only the outcome.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

The changing room of Barcelona was tense, everyone could feel it. The Bronze sister's hadn't looked at each other, Lucy had hardly spoke and they sat as far apart as possible.

The anger that Lucy had was clear and Alexia was stood next to y/n awkwardly, she had not realised the true extent of Lucy's anger when y/n had warned her.

Lucy had blanked her sister when she walked in, Mapi too for that matter. She kept her head down and when y/n tried to speak to her, Lucy simply moved past her.

Mapi and Ona were sharing worried looks, they had never seen y/n so tired and broken, her hands were shaking, her eyes were red. But as they moved into the tunnel to walk out after a warm up, both Spanish girls noticed the sisters.

They both rolled their shoulders back and Ingrid let out a small gasp of shock as they ignored their usual good-luck ritualistic handshake - this being the first time any of the Barcelona girls or Keira could remember they hadn't done it.

But both sister's looked dead on at the front and ignored their superstition of things going wrong if they didn't do it. They walked out, they shook hands, they got ready.

Lucy looked back at her younger sister, for just a moment, but as she saw her sunken sister anger overtook her when she noticed Mapi standing closer than necessary.

The whistle blew and everyone set off, Barcelona taking the lead minutes in due to Salma. Only a few more minutes in did y/n make her mark, slamming the ball into the back of the net.

Keira cheered wrapping her in a hug as the team surrounded her, patting her back, Lucy stayed away, not caring about the confused noises coming from the crowd at the lack of sisterly reaction.

Mapi grinned at y/n, patting her lower back as she ran back with a wink, for a second y/n forgot her fight with Lucy, just Mapi's smile making her grin, but as she turned her eyes caught Lucy's and her smile dropped.

The game continued for more minutes, half-time creeping up on them until it was only minutes away. That is when y/n heard the feared call of her name from Lucy.

The next thing she knew was that a hand had her ponytail bunched up, and she was being pulled to the ground. y/n let out a shout of shock as a force came down on her head.

The man over her was pushing himself closer, apologising for his rough hands in Spanish as he tried to beg her to love him. y/n shouted in fear as she pushed against him, his hand coming to slap her.

y/n's body sags unconscious as Mapi is the first over, everything happening so quickly as the Spaniard pulls the man off of her lover and shoves him violently away.

The guards finally do their job and manage to push the man down as Mapi and the Barcelona girls form a circle around y/n. Mapi has her on her own lap, running a hand through her hair as she whispers in Spanish.

Lucy pauses, a sick feeling in her stomach as the medics arrive, y/n only just coming too but refusing to let go of Mapi. Alexia tries to help but Mapi just warns her off with an angry glare.

"Don't leave me." y/n whispers to Mapi and the blonde presses a kiss to her forehead - not caring about who would see and if Lucy would care.

"I won't. I promise." Mapi says to her, y/n closing her eyes as the light hurt her head. Mapi followed the medics, Jonatan trying for a moment to keep her on but the blonde ignored him and just walked off, dealing with the consequences later in her mind.

Lucy's eyes followed her sister's body and Mapi until they were out of sight, Alexia sighed and placed a hand on Lucy's shoulder as the referee called for a five minute drinks break to settle the emotions.

"She'll be okay." Alexia promises Lucy.

"She asked for Mapi." Lucy says sadly. "And Mapi was already there." She adds.

"As far as she knows, you're not talking to her." Alexia tells Lucy who sighs and nods.

"I wasn't. And now I feel terrible." Lucy sighs as she takes a swig of her drink.

"After the game, just see her, that will make her happier." Alexia promises Lucy who nods. "She was frightened of telling you Lucia, because she loves you so much she didn't want to hurt you." Alexia explains.

"I know. I just can't believe she hid it for nine months." Lucy sighs.

"But you need to ask why did she hide it for nine months?" Alexia explains and Lucy pauses before sighing and rubbing a hand over her face.

"This is too deep for me, my head hurts." She sighs and Alexia chuckles as they are called back on pitch, but Lucy can't help but look back at the tunnel, worry in her heart.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

END of part two

[sagesturns]

Delicate - M.S

contains: oral (f! receiving)

The string lights above you and Matt flickered softly, casting a warm, amber glow that made everything feel a little softer, a little closer. It was like time slowed down, the world outside fading into the background, leaving just the two of them, tangled in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Matt hovered over you, kissing you so delicately almost as if he put any more pressure this moment would be broken. Caressing your face with one hand as the other one was beside your bed to hold himself up. As your tongues tangled together in a loving kiss. As much as he wanted to let go, to lose himself in the moment, he couldn’t shake the need to make sure you were okay first. Your comfort, your pleasure—those were the things that mattered most to him. He'd hold back, not because he had to, but because he cared more about how you felt than about his own desire.

He pulls back, looking at your breathless expression, eyes half-lidded and a faint blush on your cheeks, lips plump from  the making out. “Matt” you whisper out desperately, clutching on to his shirt as he looks down at you, blue eyes darker than before but still filled with love. He hums in response, a faint smile tugging on his lips as he starts to gently move lower on your neck, delicately sucking the skin where he could feel your pulse. You moan softly at the feeling, bringing a hand to his hair tugging it, making him lowly groan. “N-need.. m-more please” you softly pleaded.

That was enough with him, with a gentle kiss to your forehead, he softly started removing your shorts, along with your underwear which landed on the floor with a soft rustle. He looks down at your puffy clit, leaking with your arousal making him harder it almost hurts but he didn’t care, he just cared about you. Softly peppering the valley between your breasts, your breaths come in short gasps, squirming under him to release the painfully ache between your thighs. As Matt finally faces your heat, he smiles up at you pressing a soft kiss right on top of your clit making you moan softly. You look down at him, with a pleading expression and that was enough for Matt to stop teasing you and get right in. Matt’s attention is completely absorbed in you, each movement slow and deliberate, as if savoring every moment. His touch is gentle yet insistent, a deep connection building with each kiss, every flick of his tongue. You’re arousal tasting heavenly, he groans, one of his hands coming up to hold your hips to stop you from moving. You’re a complete mess, moaning Matt’s name, a hand going down to reach his hair, tugging on it each time he sucked that bundle of nerves that made your eyes roll back and see stars. You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge.

No words were coming out of your mouth, already blank after the making out, your words coming out in short breathing moans “I- fuck- close Matt!” You cry out as his tongue prudes your entrance. You pull at his hair making him moan in your pussy, pushing you more over the edge. It made Matt almost giddy and proud knowing all of this was just for him. Matt started frantically looking around for something making you confused as you looked down, but your heart fluttered as he reached out for your hand that was clutching the sheets. Holding it so softly and delicately, running his thumb over his fingers as he ate you our ravishly. The sight made you almost cum right then and there. 

Matt interlocked your finger together, face buried in your heat as he tried to bring the pleasure you deserved. A flick of his tongue on your nerves caught you off guard, making you cum without a warning. You moan loudly as you fall apart for Matt, eyes squeezed shut as the pure bliss of ecstasy washed over you. That didn’t make him stop, in fact he licked clean your overly sensitive clit, tasting yout sweet essence that made him want more, you were too sensitive  making you push away his head that was clutching on to his hair for dear life. Matt slowly pulled away, looking at your afterglow expression, he wiped your arousal with the back of his hand.

Smiling down at you, he thought you were the most beautiful person like this, falling apart just for him, he pecked your lips, bringing a hand to caress your face. “You did amazing sweetheart” he muttered, making you look up at him, a sheen of sweat covering your body as you shyly smiled at him. “Let’s get my girl cleaned up, yeah?” He already started to help sit on the bed. Your legs felt like jelly making you wince, Matt chuckled making you give him a deadpan look, “ ‘s not funny!” you whine. He lowers his head down kissing you tenderly, looking at you with his eyes full of adoration. “I love you” he muttered. Carrying you bride-style to the washroom, making you giggle as you rested your head in the crook of his neck.

tags: @sweetshuga @m00nl1ghts1vt

a/n: I'm acc so sorry for this shit ass writing, I'm not good at writing smut so I'm probably not gonna post much of smut.

©sagesturns

[nickeverdeen]

I have a request for Caitlyn x fem reader angst where reader and Caitlyn were in a relationship before Caitlyn went to Zaun but then she just up and left for that mission and then she just suddenly comes back and with Vi and reader is upset

Left Behind | Caitlyn Kiramman x fem!reader

Pairings: Caitlyn x reader (romantic), Vi x reader (strangers), Vi x Caitlyn (either lovers or platonic)

Type of fic: Angst, No Comfort

Warnings: Arguments, Break-up, Tiny Toxic Behaivor, A Bit Of A Jealousy mentioned

Summary: When Caitlyn decided to one day just get up and leave for a mission without so much as a note to explain you waited - for weeks, for months - but then she just decides to show up and act as if nothing happened while casually bringing Vi? Yeah, you’re not letting her get that.

—————————

The last time you saw Caitlyn Kiramman, she was yours.

She had kissed you softly, held you close, whispered promises in the quiet safety of your shared bed. Told you she’d always come back to you, that nothing in this world could take her away.

Then she left.

No warning. No explanation. Just gone.

And for weeks—months—you waited.

Waited for a letter, a message, anything to tell you where she was. If she was alive.

But silence was the only answer you ever got.

So, eventually, you stopped waiting.

Piltover was quiet tonight. The streets, washed in dim lantern light, felt emptier than usual. Or maybe it was just you who felt empty.

You had been fine. You had learned to live without Caitlyn, had forced yourself to move forward even when it felt impossible.

But then, out of nowhere—like some cruel twist of fate—she returned.

She was standing outside the Enforcer barracks when you first saw her again, her uniform worn, her face thinner, her blue eyes sharper than before.

And she wasn’t alone.

Vi stood beside her. Close. Familiar. And in that moment, your stomach twisted in a way that made it hard to breathe.

You told yourself you didn’t care. That she had left, and you had moved on.

But now, standing at the threshold of her family’s estate, your hands clenched into fists at your sides, you realized just how much of a lie that was.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked.

It only took a few seconds before the door opened, and there she was—Caitlyn Kiramman, in the flesh, staring at you like she had seen a ghost.

“…You’re here,” she breathed.

Your chest ached at the way she said it, like she hadn’t expected you to be.

Like she thought she could just walk back into this city, into her old life, and you wouldn’t be here to remind her of what she left behind.

Your jaw tightened. “No thanks to you.”

Caitlyn flinched. She had the decency to look guilty, at least. “I—”

“Don’t.” You shook your head, stepping inside before she could say something that would make you more angry. “Just tell me why.”

Caitlyn swallowed. “I had to go. It wasn’t safe—”

“You left me, Caitlyn. Without a word. Do you have any idea what that did to me?” Your voice rose a bit, but you forced yourself to meet her gaze.

She looked away.

That was answer enough.

Your breath came out shaky, the months of heartbreak, of anger, of missing her all bubbling to the surface. “And now you’re back. Just like that. Like nothing happened.”

“It’s not like that,” Caitlyn said quickly.

You scoffed. “No? Then tell me, Cait. Tell me what it is like. Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you left, found someone new, and now you expect me to just—”

“It’s not like that,” Caitlyn said again, more desperate this time.

You shook your head. “I saw you with her.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitched. “Vi?”

The name burned in your throat. “She’s the reason, isn’t she? She’s why you left.”

“No,” Caitlyn said firmly. “I left because I had to. Because I thought I was protecting you. I didn’t—” She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t think it would take this long.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “Right. So I was just supposed to wait? Put my life on hold until you decided to come back?”

Caitlyn’s expression crumbled. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

You wanted to believe that.

But the hurt was still there, raw and aching, a wound she had left open for too long.

You shook your head, stepping back toward the door. “I don’t know if I can do this, Cait.”

Panic flashed across her face. “Please.”

You hesitated.

And for a moment, you could almost pretend this was before. That she had never left. That she was still yours.

But the past wasn’t something you could change.

You turned away. “Goodbye, Caitlyn.”

This time, you were the one walking away.

[callme-holly]

Hello!

So I came across your post about The Outsiders requests and if you are still taking them I have one! And if you don't really like the sound of this or don't feel comfortable writing this that's more than okay!

But, if you are comfortable with it..

I was thinking a Darry x Reader where the reader is drunk and Darry brings her to his place and takes care of her. Stuff like where she is in one of his shirts that is way to big on her, and like if the other boys are being to loud he will get very defensive and tell them to quiet down since the reader is hungover. Just little things like that in it.

Thank you!! <3

𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 [𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐚/𝐧 : i kind of really love this

The whole room spun as Darry set you carefully down onto the couch, your mind reeling, feeling sluggish and heavy with fatigue. It’s not like you’d meant to get drunk; it had just sort of happened; one drink turned into two, and then another, until you were a stumbling, giggling mess. 

It hadn't taken long, however, for the novelty to wear off, the initial pleasant buzz dissipating and leaving you feeling nauseated and tired, your eyelids growing heavy with each passing second. If it weren't for the fact that Darry was currently holding onto your shoulder in an attempt to support you, you probably would have passed out right there on the couch without so much as a second thought. He was trying his best not to look worried, but, even in your inebriated state, you could see the way he kept biting at the edge of his lip, the slight furrow of his brow giving him away entirely. 

It’s not like you were the only drunk person in the room; the other boys were far worse off than you. Two-Bit and Steve were practically tripping over themselves, and Dallas had dragged himself off home, refusing to accept the help offered. Soda hadn’t consumed a single drop of alcohol, yet he was still bouncing around, laughing loudly, and to anyone who didn’t know him personally, they would think he was just as wasted as everyone else. 

A sharp sting of pain tore through you, hammering at your skull as Steve let out a particularly shrill cackle that seemed to reverberate through the room, causing you to wince. You closed your eyes and let your head thud back against the cushions, trying desperately to focus on anything but the dull throbbing behind your eyes. 

“Hey, darlin',” Darry's voice sounded soft, barely above a whisper, as you felt his cool hand gently press against your forehead, smoothing down the hair that fell in loose waves over your face. “What’d you say we go run you a nice bath, hm? Might help with that hangover.” 

You don’t have the energy to fight him on the offer; in fact, a warm bath sounds almost heavenly right about now. The room spins again as you nod numbly, limp in Darry’s arms, as he scoops you up and carries you slowly towards the bathroom, the voices and shouts of the other boys becoming more and more distant until they’re nothing but a muffled hum behind the closed door. 

Your mind swims, and you struggle to stay awake, blinking your eyes rapidly to clear them before they start drooping shut. Darry is still speaking, though you can’t seem to make out what he’s saying, his voice sounding too quiet for you to be able to pick apart the words. He spends a few moments fussing over the water, making sure it's not too hot, before turning back to you, carefully removing your clothes, and setting them aside to be washed later. His movements are gentle and slow, and you lean against him, relying heavily on him to keep you upright, your legs feeling unsteady beneath you.

He wraps his arms around your waist, cradling you close to him, his chest pressed against yours as he holds you close, guiding you to the tub with the same care as someone who is handling a small child. He lowers you gingerly into the water, fingers carding through your hair as you sink into the warmth, letting the heat consume you entirely, your eyes finally fluttering shut and a contented hum leaving your lips. 

You feel weightless, completely relaxed, your body drained of everything except for the sweet, blissful sensation of Darry’s hands running through your hair and over your shoulders. 

“Better?” He murmurs, his thumb stroking softly across your skin, drawing a hum of affirmation from you. 

“Better,” you answer, your own voice slurred with exhaustion. “Much better.” 

Darry smiles faintly at you, kissing the top of your head in a way that could only be described as tender. He washes you slowly, massaging shampoo into your scalp with practiced hands and scrubbing down your body with careful deliberation. Every once in a while, one of his hands leaves your side to stroke lightly across your cheek or to brush away a stray lock of hair sticking to your face. 

You don’t remember when he started talking to you, mumbling under his breath about how he’d told you to go easy on the drink, nor do you know when he’d started to drain the soapy water surrounding you, leaving you cold and shivering. Your eyes are still half-lidded, your mind hazy, your body heavy with sleep. But Darry keeps murmuring to you, brushing kisses across your cheeks and jawline, your forehead, your temple. His voice is soothing, low, and rich with a hint of something you can’t place, that southern drawl coming out as thick as honey. 

A towel is draped loosely over your shoulders as Darry guides you out of the tub, making quick work of drying you off and sitting you down on the edge of the closed toilet seat. He kneels down in front of you then, his large, calloused hand resting on your knees, flashing you a small smile.

“Do me a favour and wait here. I’ll go get you something to change into, alright?” 

You can only nod in response; any other answer would be deemed unacceptable, and you’d be made to wait here regardless. 

 You watch as he disappears into the hall, thecacophonyy of shouts and laughter reaching your ears the second the door opens, only to be muffled just as fast as it swings shut with a barely audible click, leaving you alone. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to force away the heaviness clinging to your limbs, the fuzzy feeling beginning to creep into your head, and the headache pounding behind your eyes. 

You don’t know how long you’re sitting like that, trying your hardest not to give in to sleep, but after a while, Darry steps back into the bathroom, a glass of water in one hand and a pile of clean clothes in the other. You blink blearily at him, watching as he kneels before you once more, setting the clothes aside and bringing the glass to your lips.

“Take a few sips for me, sweetheart. It’ll help the headache.” You comply, accepting small sips until your stomach decides it's had enough and you're forced to pull back, a slightly disgruntled expression on your face. Darry doesn’t force the issue, simply removing the towel and dressing you in nothing but his shirt and boxers, both items hanging off your frame loosely, the fabric soothing against your skin.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re burying your face into his chest with a quiet whine, pressing yourself firmly against him, your arms clutching his waist like a lifeline, as if you're afraid he'll leave if you ever let go of him. 

Darry chuckles softly in amusement, rubbing your back reassuringly, his chin resting atop your head. 

“I think we should get you in bed,” he whispers, his voice rumbling deep within his chest, sending a shudder down your spine. “I'll get the boys to quiet down, and then I'll come join you, yeah?”

“Okay,” you murmur, nuzzling closer to him, closing your eyes. You feel his arms tighten around you, holding you close, enveloping you in warmth as he presses a gentle kiss into your hair. 

You want to ask him not to go, to keep hold of you and never let you go, but you also know it won't be long before he's beside you once more, pulling you tightly into his embrace and promising he will never, ever, let anything happen to you. And you trust him more than anything in the world.

[lackofspace]

ok kandreil? where they had a thing, it was small still, kept a secret but developing, trying to be something, then Baltimore and they act like nothing ever happened even with Kevin's bruises and Neil's scars loud.

They are forced to talk about it when Neil coming into the dorm one afternoon after a run finds Kevin packing his stuff.

"What are you doing?" He asks from the door frowning

"Taking my stuff to Matt and Aaron's" Kevin speaks still sorting through his things

"Why?" Neil says moving deeper into the room

"Matt suggested it, the upperclassmen said now that you and Andrew are a couple I should stop trailing behind you, give you some privacy" he pauses "I hadn't realized– I didn't notice I was doing that"

"You are not, Kevin, what?" Neil already agitated comes closer to where Kevin is now gathering the stuff in his desk

"They are better at knowing this kind of stuff," He shrugs "Don't worry, we are still doing night pratices, although you should warn Matt that's something you want or else he'll be in my case about not giving you a break,"

Kevin glanced up to Neil

"Do you? Want a break from night practices?"

"Who are you?!" Neil exclaims more than asks, shocked

Kevin frowns

"Whatever, your choice. Please remember to wash your clothes regularly and tell Andrew to eat real food at least once a day" He pauses dropping a backpack by the door "I guess I should inform you I'm not going to Columbia this weekend, so you can just go after practice if you want"

"What the hell, Kevin! Why the fuck not?"

"Aaron is staying for Katelyn and Nicky says he has to finish a project"

"What does this has to do with you staying? You've come with us without them before" He's getting angry with how confusing this conversation has been

"I guess, but now Nicky and Dan will yell at me if they know"

"You're not making any sense"

"It means you'll have the house to yourselves and I should stay away from you, Dan told me" Kevin tells him like it should be obvious

"Why are you suddenly listening to everything they say? Why don't you ask Andrew and I what we would like?" Neil is desperate, exasperated

"I didn't at first, I thought they had misunderstood but I asked Aaron and he agreed, he said I was using you so I wouldn't be alone, I can't let myself rely on crutches anymore, I know what you and Andrew think of me, I'm just trying to stand with my own two feet and I'm glad they told me it was happening"

With that he grabs his last duffel and backpack and leaves the room

I guess this is really ooc in the way they deal with their emotions, talk and overall openess, I just wanted to write about Kevin being kind of worn out, like he's giving up fighting trying to have someone like/respect him outside of the nest (if you count Jean and the ravens who maybe admired him for being perfect court) he's affected by what happened in Baltimore (Andrew chocking him) but he can't bring himself to talk about it or ask for accountability.

this came to me with Nora talking about how the foxes don't want to listen to Kevin talk about history and I guess misunderstanding him a lot (please know that in this universe Thea does not exist! Jeremy's existence is also debatable bc I think he would be much more present in Kevin's life)

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Brain Dead!

Player 001 x reader [SMUT]

Masterlist <- Comment on this post to be added to the tag list

Note: This is an unofficial sequel to I Can Do Better

You stood in the cramped bathroom stall, the sound of murmured conversations and running water from the sinks outside muffled by the thin metal door. Young il leaned against the wall opposite you, his eyes fixed on yours with a mix of nervous anticipation and desire.

As you reached out to touch him, he let out a soft gasp, his body tensing in response. The air was thick with the scent of disinfectant and stale air, but your focus was solely on Young il. Your hands moved gently at first, exploring his skin, and then with increasing intensity.

Young il's breathing quickened, his chest rising and falling with each ragged inhale. He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall as your touch became more insistent. His hips began to move in time with your strokes, his body swaying forward as he sought more contact. The bathroom stall creaked softly as you shifted your weight, the sound echoing off the tile walls. Young il's words became pleading whispers.

"Please... let me... I need to..." He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence as his body arched forward. Your grip tightened, and he cried out softly, his eyes snapping open to meet yours. “Please, (y/n)… more… please let me cum” he begged in a strained voice. His body shaking, his cock pulsing in your hand as he did so.

The sounds from outside the stall seemed to fade into the background as the tension between you built. Young il's face contorted in a mixture of desperation and desire. Your hands continued their gentle yet firm caress, coaxing him closer to the edge.

“Cum for me, Young il” you whispered into his ear. Young il's body trembled with restraint as he fought to hold back, silently begging for the moment to last longer. But it was no use – with one final stroke, he let out a strangled cry as release washed over him.

In the heat of the moment, Young il didn't notice where he was standing or what was beneath him. As he came, it was onto your tracksuit that he spilled himself. The warm liquid spread across the fabric as Young il stood there frozen for an instant before collapsing forward onto you.

He buried his face into your shoulder as you wrapped your arms around him holding him close while trying not bringing attention on stained tracksuit pants. An occurrence that happened in a flurry of emotion, passion, and a desperate need for release.

As you held Young il close, trying to comfort him as he caught his breath, the sound of banging on the stall door broke the silence.

"Hey, come on! I really need to use the restroom! You've been in there for a while, can you hurry up?" a frustrated voice called out from the other side of the door. Young il's face was still buried in your shoulder, and he didn't react to the interruption. You could feel his embarrassment and mortification at being caught in such a compromising position. The banging on the door continued, growing more insistent.

"Seriously, what's going on in there? You're hogging the stall! Can you please just come out?" The voice was getting louder and more agitated by the second.

You tried to think of a response, but your mind was blank. You didn't want to draw attention to what had just happened, but at the same time, you couldn't just ignore the person on the other side of the door. Young il slowly lifted his head from your shoulder, his eyes wide with anxiety as he looked up at you. The banging continued, and you knew you had to do something.

"Just a minute," you called out finally, trying to sound calm and nonchalant despite the awkward situation. The banging stopped, and an exasperated sigh came from outside the stall.

“Fine, but hurry up! There are other people waiting!" The voice trailed off as whoever it was walked away from the stall. You looked down at Young il, who was still standing there frozen in embarrassment. His eyes met yours before darting down to your tracksuit pants stained with his release.

“I’m so sorry” Young il whispered. “About your tracksuit. I couldn’t-“ you cut him off with a passionate kiss, not caring about your tracksuit.

“We should probably get out before they keep banging on the door” you remarked, Young il fiercely nodding in agreement.

As you opened the stall door, a mixture of curious and amused glances met you from the other men in the bathroom. Young il's face turned bright red as he realized everyone was staring at them. The atmosphere in the room became tense, with snickers and whispered comments spreading like wildfire. One of the men, Player 100, with a sneer on his face, couldn't resist making a comment.

“Hey, looks like we got a hand job specialists in here!" He chuckled loudly, drawing attention to you and Young il. The other men in the bathroom started to snicker and make similar comments. Young il's embarrassment turned to anger as he heard the jeers and catcalls. He took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. Another guy, egged on by the first one's comment, decided to chime in.

"Yeah, I bet she’d be happy to give us all a round of hand jobs!" The room erupted into laughter and teasing remarks. That was when Young il lost his temper. With a swift motion, he punched the guy who had made the second comment right in the face. The man stumbled backward, clutching his nose as blood began to flow from it.

The bathroom fell silent for a moment before chaos erupted. Men scrambled to get out of Young il's way as he stood there, ready to take on anyone else who dared to make a comment. You quickly grabbed Young il's arm and pulled him toward the exit.

"Let's get out of here before things escalate further!" You shouted above the din of shouting and commotion. Young il didn't resist; instead, he allowed you to lead him out of the bathroom as quickly as possible. As you both emerged into the relative calmness of the outside area, you could still hear catcalls and insults being hurled your way from inside.

“Holy shit” you gasped for air as you laughed. “That was hilarious! You saw their faces after you punched that one guy?”

“They all looked so scared” Young il agreed, laughing along side you as you walked back to the group.

“Hey, where have you guys been, we need to talk about the next game.” Gi-hun spoke, he quickly took in the state of you. Your stained tracksuit suit, and Young il’s flushed face. He looked at you jealously.

As you guys spoke intensely about the next game, you began to drift off, placing your head in Young il’s lap. You heard the indistinct voices as you felt Young il stroke your hair gently. Moving strands of hair out of your face. You trusted that Young il would carry you to bed when they were finished talking.

Time skip: The morning

You awoke in your bed, comfortably wrapped in Young il’s arms. You set your eyes on Gi-Hun realizing that he and Young il were in conversation. You closed your eyes again before rolling in his arms and looking at Young il. He looked down at you, kissing your forehead before continuing to talk. He pulled you in tighter to his chest, allowing you to sleep just a little longer before the game of the day began.

“I love you” you said sleepily.

“I love you too” he said back, kissing your head again.

Tag list

@christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @nakiio5775 @xcinnamonmalfoyx

[heartepub]

to be your eyes

summary. a not-hero meets a not-monster. pairing. lee seokmin x fem!reader genre/tags. perseus/medusa retelling, fem pronouns and titles but nothing on anatomy (except for snake hair but that’s not an exclusive thing), hurt/comfort, seokmin is a romantic, hinted past sexual assault (medusa-story compliant), off-screen minor character death, body modification?, HAPPY ENDING!!!, unbeta’d wc. 3.1k suggested listening. carry you, novo amor // dust to dust, the civil wars // opaline, novo amor // keep the rain, searows

notes. full credits to this post for inspiring this retelling; at best I tweaked it to fit perseus' quest better ++ personality changes to match how I regard seokmin personally. might revisit this, but for now I just need it out of my system. feedback is appreciated and come say hi if you're inclined!

“Not a step closer.”

Seokmin would be foolish not to obey. He looks only at the polished shield on his arm—never at anything that is not a reflection. The air is still, save for the faint sound of muffled hissing.

“I must admit I am quite disappointed.” The voice speaks again. “The hero who came into my cave last night, sword ready, could not even finish the deed.” He winces despite himself.

“I do not wish to kill you, Priestess.” The hissing grows ever so slightly louder.

“Lies,” the voice drops to a low growl. “There is only one hero who would dare enter when my sisters are absent. The one I have been warned about.”

Seokmin hesitates, before continuing. “I would just like to talk.”

“Talk? Alliances? Is that how god-touched heroes fatten their pigs for slaughter, nowadays? With platitudes?” The priestess’ mocking scoff echoes around the rocks.

Before he can open his mouth, the voice begins to speak once more. “I will do you a favor, Lee Seokmin—” he inhales sharply as his name is called in that haunting lilt, “—I will make your task easy. You have one more chance to kill me. Light one of those candles you see in the corner of this cave and come back when it has burned all the way through. I will be asleep by then, so you will not need your shield,  though you may bring it if you wish.

“Oh, and,” the voice is suddenly much closer now. Despite his earlier spiel, the urge to run itches at his bones. “Make it quick, will you?”

He does as the voice bids; he grabs a candle, lights it with one of the braziers, and exits the temple-cave holding it. The flame has a strange, supernatural iridescence, illuminating the grey pebbles outside the entrance into something opal-like. He lets the sight wash over him as he contemplates.

Seokmin never wanted to be a hero.

More accurately, he never wanted to be the reason for any kind of bloodshed.

There was glory in heroism, to be sure. Every figure that boasts of the title is larger than life; doers of deeds that were only possible for those either god-touched or god-born. He had set out on this quest in a bid to save his mother—even as he could not stand the thought of heroics, the revulsion that crawled in him at the sight of his uncle’s cruel smirk had won out. And so the bargain was born.

He was to bring the head of the gorgon, or suffer through his poor mother’s second wedding, to a man he knew she had no desire to be with.

He made it this far with a mix of dumb luck and godly assistance. Now, not only the fate of his mother rests on his shoulders, but also the expectation of the gods who had come to his aid—one of whom being the very same goddess who made you who you are now.

True to his unfitness as a hero, Seokmin indeed hesitated yesterday, at the last minute. Yet there was something in that sleeping face that made him pause.

Your hair was tightly wrapped in a turban, no snakes in sight. And with eyes closed, it was a face like any other’s. Beautiful, even. It shocked Seokmin to his core. 

This cannot be a creature so hard to kill.

So he ran away.

It was foolishness that made him come back. Foolishness, and a mix of the expectations on his shoulders, the desperation to save his mother, and a curiosity to understand the sleeping creature that had compelled him so. The second time, his expectations were again unmet. Some of his pride had hurt at the mockery in that haunting voice, even more so because he knew it was only the truth.

Hesitation was un-hero-like. The third chance seemed almost an extension of your taunting, yet Seokmin cannot get it out of his mind that you are telling the truth. That you would let him kill you. He cannot match the serenity of that sleeping face to such a sentiment.

The candle is halfway through when he makes his decision.

He does not bring his sword.

With one hand, he holds the candle, burned three-fourths through. With the other, his shield, the polished side guiding him as he ventures again into the temple-cave. He has not even reached the inner clearing when the voice speaks.

“You do not know how to follow instructions.”

“Priestess, do you really wish for me to kill you?”

For a moment, there is only the sound of faint hissing. Finally, the voice replies. “I am tired of living a half-life, Lee Seokmin. I would rather a quick death than a slow one, if you please.”

Deliberately, Seokmin sets down both the candle and the shield. He closes his eyes. Fishing for the band of cloth he tore from his robes, he grasps both ends and blindfolds himself.

“I would wish to talk to you, Priestess. Please. I am no hero, only a boy who bit off more than he could chew when he wanted to save his mother.”

For all the kindness that he saw in your face, there is none of that in your voice. Or even if there is, it is not the sort he recognizes. 

“I have no use for a boy who cannot understand neither instructions nor mercy. Leave and do not come back, unless you wish to die. Unlike you, I can make it quick.”

You do not think about the strange not-hero for months, until your sister urges you to the mouth of the cave.

“Please, you must tend to him. He’s god-touched, and somehow came to this temple despite the wounds on him.” You refuse to look until your other sister sighs. “His eyes are closed, for the gods’ sake.”

He’s a beautiful man, all delicate cheekbones and high-bridged nose. Yet pale; very pale. There is barely any rise and fall on his chest. Your sisters haggle and nag until you relent. You enlist their help in grinding the herbs at the mouth of the cave, some for poultices while the other for a brew to coax down his throat.

The two layers of cloth around his eyes are a preventative measure, in case he awakens. There is a reason why you never ventured out of this cave, hiding at any voice that was not your sisters’. There is a reason for why you keep your head tightly wrapped, letting the snakes breathe only when strictly necessary.

No soul, outside of those who did not abandon you, needs to be witness to your shame.

Still, you look after this beautiful man, hyperaware of the blindfolds you keep around his eyes. Your own remain downcast to be sure he will not turn to stone after all your hard work in healing his wounds. Days pass, and you begin to accompany him as he sleeps, watching the way the iridescent flame dances across his delicate features.

On particularly lonely nights, you whisper the secrets he may never remember as he wakes. The humble life that seemed to be many centuries ago. The priestess training. The service at the temple that you wish you could look back on fondly. The god that knew only to covet, and the curse brought down from an act that had but an illusion of consent. The curse (or gift, the goddess claimed) that had been brought upon you. An ordinary future lost forever, both from trauma and a notion of healing imposed by some other power.

Weeks pass, and he finally stirs.

“Where am I?” Your blood freezes for a moment. The voice that speaks from that mouth is instantly familiar.

“I told you not to come back unless you wanted to die, and yet here I am, tending to your wounds.” He turns his head in your direction, following your voice. His eyes still tightly sealed by the blindfold.

“Priestess?”

“I am no priestess,” you snap. “Not anymore.”

“Thank you, Priestess,” the blindfolded man persists, still painfully earnest. “I’m sorry, I did not know where else to go.”

A sigh escapes you. “You foolish boy. You could have gone anywhere else but the monster’s lair. Tell me, then, do you want to die?”

“No, Priestess. I don’t…” he hesitates. “I don’t know what I want outside of being a good son.”

“You are no hero, then. Only a filial boy.” Strangely enough, he chuckles.

“No, I am not,” he agrees.

“Curious,” you murmur despite yourself. Louder, you direct your instructions. “Rest. Once you are well, never come back. I do hope the former at least is not too difficult to follow.” You make to leave him, picking up your basket for a new batch of herbs for his poultice.

“For what it’s worth,” he calls after you, voice carrying across the cave despite its softness, “I was listening to your story. And I cannot and will not wish you any harm. Not after knowing it.”

You walk away without answering him, your fingers clenching the basket tight enough to distort the weave.

It is three days after he wakes that he finally tells you why he first came.

“Your mother needs rescuing from your uncle, and he asked you to bring him my head in exchange for her freedom?”

“Yes.”

You consider it for a long moment. “I would not mind dying if it meant saving your mother.” A woman who was under the whims of another man…no, it would not be a bad thing at all. At least then, the goddess’ curse that you may only kill a man with your gaze could be put to good use.

Seokmin shakes his head, the ends of the cloth tied to his eyes swaying with the movement. “I would ask you to come with me, instead.”

“Why? So I can kill your uncle for you?”

His response is immediate and vehement. “No! I just—I feel I owe you a debt I do not know how to repay.”

You have grown used to his indecision. The reply that leaves you is as kind as you can make it. “I did not save you so you would be indebted. I saved you because my sisters pleaded your case.”

“But you saved me all the same.”

You sigh. “It is not a debt to be repaid, not-hero. What happens if you come home empty-handed?”

“I do not know. Nothing good.”

Despite his strangeness, you have grown to care for him. There is something achingly compelling about Seokmin’s earnestness, an innate kindness in his gentle smiles that makes you wish you could see the emotions dance in his eyes.

“I do not wish to see you die,” you admit.

“Priestess—” he starts.

“I told you not to call me that. That name holds nothing for me.” Though time soothes all wounds, there is still a foul taste in your mouth at the title, a persistent shiver that cools your bones.

“Er, lady?” Seokmin tries.

“I am no lady, either.” Despite yourself, heat rises to your cheeks at the title. You respond a beat too late.

“I think anyone who is kind enough to tend to a foolish boy should be called lady,” he murmurs. “You could also tell me your name.”

“Oh? Have the stories not preceded me with my name?”

“That name is not yours. I mean your real one. I would not call you a monster, dear lady. No one with a heart as beautiful as yours would be one.” The words strike an unwilling chord. You look down, forcing the tears back from your eyes. Not for the first time, you wish Seokmin were a hero. Brutality would have been hurtful, but unsurprising. Tenderness is a blow no one can ready themselves for. You inhale, shakily.

“I should like to know your name,” he repeats, gentle in his ruining of your heart.

You shake your head, knowing he cannot see it. Without another word, you leave him.

Finally, the day comes when Seokmin regains his full strength. You waste no time in bringing him to the mouth of the cave, though you stop before anyone possibly on the outside can catch your gaze. Your sisters’ teasing has gotten unbearable; their latest stunt involves taking extended “trips” for increasingly implausible reasons. Even now, you are left alone, despite your insistence that all three of you send him off.

There is no use in being attached. A gift, however…

You unwrap your turban. Seokmin’s head swivels at the noise, hearing the hissing suddenly fill the space. You pluck a single snake from the mass. It wriggles in your hold.

“Hold out your hand.” He does. You grasp his wrist, placing the snake in his palm and curling his fingers around it. 

“Present her to your uncle as proof of my death. Tell him my head disintegrated, and left only this.”

Seokmin’s other hand moves, tracing the way your fingers wrap around his. Despite the callouses on his hands, his touch is devastatingly tender. 

In a different world, a lock of hair would be a romantic gift, one between courting lovers. In this one, it is a companion at best, a horror at worst.

Unbidden, tears prick at your eyes. The cave swims in your vision.

You steady your voice. “Do not look back,” you say, and untie his blindfold. “Careful now, let your eyes adjust to the light.” Your gaze is trained to the back of his head, ensuring that he does not move his neck even a little.

“Lady,” he says, his back still to you. “May I ask one final question?”

“You may.”

“This snake…are her eyes the same color as yours?”

“…Yes,” you admit.

“And she will not turn me to stone?”

“Yes.”

“Lady,” he says again, and you wish you could demand that he stop calling you that, as it ruins you a little more every time. “Would you forgive me if I ask to see your face before I go? I would ask you to close your eyes.”

Helplessly, you exhale a wet laugh. There is nothing you would refuse him now. “Very well.” You close your eyes. There is a rustle. Despite not seeing anything, you feel his gaze like a weight.

A hand, warm, touches your face, tracing your jaw, then your temples, even the bridge of your nose. Eventually, Seokmin’s thumb wipes at the tear that falls down your cheek.

“Thank you, dear lady,” he whispers. “I will remember this face, and when I look at your gift, I will imagine how you may look with your eyes open.”

Moons pass, and you try to forget about the not-hero you never really knew.

Until he returns, that is. 

Your sister only says two words. “He’s back.”

“I will not see him.” You do not move from your position, ignoring the treacherous seize of your heart.

Your other sister snorts, pulling you up forcibly. You yelp. She glares at you. “You will not turn him into stone. Trust me. Now go.”

Each step you take to the mouth of the cave feels leaden. You screw your eyes shut, relying on the walls and sheer familiarity to guide you forward. More than once, you contemplate turning around.

“Dear lady,” a voice calls, one you never thought you’d hear again. “Please do not run from me. I have blindfolded myself, so please open your eyes.”

Taking a deep breath, you begin to walk, forcing your heartbeat to remain even. He comes into sight, as heartbreakingly beautiful as he was the last time. His clothes are more tattered than before, and there are fresh scars that litter across his biceps. You ache to heal him.

“Hello,” he smiles, despite not seeing you.

“How is your mother, not-hero?”

“She is well.”

“And your uncle?”

“Dead. A snake called by your gift bit him.”

“I see. Good.”

“Good,” he echoes. You study his face; he seems to mean it. A little more a man than the boy you first tended to. “But that is not why I am here.”

Seokmin holds out a small box.

“I know your tending was no debt, my lady, and this is not meant to repay that. It is only a gift, yours no matter your answer.”

“My answer to what?”

He steps forward. You move to guide him, catching his arm right as he stumbles on a step he does not see. Seokmin breathes in, a little unsteady, before releasing you with a soft thanks. Yet he does not move farther away. He smiles again, his face not quite facing yours, unsure of your exact location. It only endears you to him more.

“I have travelled the world, dear lady, saved my family, regained my throne, made my peace with the gods, yet none have captivated my heart as you have. The voice and hands that guided me in this cave became my strength outside of it. If you are willing, I would have you as my wife.”

“You—” your voice cracks. “What man would take a wife he could not even gaze at? Whose eyes would kill? Whose name he does not know?”

“I would know your name only if you offered it, my lady. As for your other concerns…take off my blindfold,” he says softly. “I could not gaze at you even if I tried.”

It takes a while for his meaning to come to you, but when it does, you shake your head, disbelieving. That cannot be. He could not have possibly gone so far. Shaking, you do as he says.

He opens his eyelids, and you gasp.

Where his eyes should be there is nothingness. The scarring is minimal, which meant it was very intentionally removed. Seokmin fumbles for your hand before placing it very gently on the box.

“If you take my eyes, you will no longer have to worry about turning people to stone. I doubt they are as lovely as your own are, but they are yours, nonetheless. I wish for you to have the choices that they would provide, regardless of whether you accept my proposal or not.”

You carefully take the precious, precious box in one hand, and bring the other to the back of his neck, dragging him into a kiss.

Seokmin gasps, but recovers quickly. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His mouth is soft just as the weight of his body is solid. It is everything you wished being held would feel.

The kiss ends with him resting his forehead against yours. Tears track down your cheeks, and he brings a hand up to wipe them away.

“Now that is familiar,” he hums, laughing quietly. His other hand traces up your neck, undoing your hair covering. The snakes fall down your back, slithering around his hand. He giggles as they curl playfully around his wrist.

“Is that a yes, then? Though I do hope you would not cry so much once you take my eyes for your own.” 

“Yes,” you say, and kiss him again.

[lost-in-lamentation]

failures, together.

a/n: (・・;)

content: not long after arriving at the devildom, you find yourself needing some affirmation from the representative of greed.

warnings: reader does kind of have a mental breakdown, but nothing intense.

mammon × gen!reader. hurt/comfort.

for @lulusupreme my beloved oomf (sorry i'm late)

“i just don't know what to do.”

“look, i don’t have any advice either. i'm only babysitting you cause lucifer threw you at me.” mammon clicked his tongue softly, turning away from your figure standing in the doorway. “if it weren't for him keeping goldie in jail, i would have tossed you outside already.”

“aren't you helpful.” with gritted teeth, you slammed the door and stormed further into his room, forcefully planting yourself on the other end of the couch.

mammon jerked at the action, whipping back around to face you. “oi, the hell you think you're doing?!”

grumbling, you crossed your arms and stared straight ahead of you at empty space. “i don't know, mammon. waiting to wake up from this nightmare, maybe?”

“we already told ya, human. this ain’t no dream or nightmare.”

“and i already told you, i have a name.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever. my only job is to make sure you're not in immediate danger so just… don't go outside, ‘kay? i don't wanna have to watch you all the time.”

you felt your anger starting to bubble over, your knuckles white as you balled your hands into fists. “it's not fair.”

mammon only snorted at your statement. “damn right it's not fair. how come i had to get stuck with you? why not asmo-”

“no- what's not fair, is that i had to be dragged down here! for some stupid program? asking me what i think i'm doing, well what about you? what are you doing bringing a human like me down here?!” your chest began heaving with the effort to breathe and yell, the heat behind your fury turning white as you snapped at the demon.

the second born barely gave you a glance, his voice raising to match yours. “hell if i know! i didn't want some useless ragdoll with me here anyways!”

the words echoed in your brain, causing the last string of composure to snap. “useless… ragdoll…”

mammon finally turned his head to look at you, ready to let loose another string of harsh insults, only to stop when he saw the expression on your face. “uh… human? what's going on with you?”

you lifted your hands shakily, palms up as they stopped just before they could cup your own face. “that’s all i am, isn’t it? useless?”

“o-oi, you’re freaking me out here-”

“you agree, don’t you?!” with shallow breaths, you snapped at him, feeling your desperation spill out in the form of tears. “so then why did they bring me here…?” you curled into yourself slowly, hands wrapping at the base of your neck and gathering fistfuls of your shirt. “i’m not worth anything- i won’t be able to do anything,” you whispered out. “mammon, i’ve barely done anything yet and i’m already a failure.”

silence washed over you like an unforgiving wave. amidst your muted sniffles, you couldn’t make out any movements from the demon on the other side of the couch. after a few minutes had passed, you debated about getting up, hoping to run away to your room with no mention of this incident ever again. instead, when you opted to stand up, there was a much gentler voice than you imagined that broke through the quiet.

“i doubt it,” mammon whispered back.

ever so slightly, you shifted your gaze to the side to look at him. “... huh?”

mammon, now put on the spot, ran a hand through his hair awkwardly. “trust me. in lucifer’s eyes, there’s no bigger failure than me. most of the time, at least.”

“really?” feeling a little braver, you lifted your head back up. you were just in time to see the tips of his ears dusted with embarrassment.

“ya don’t have to sound so happy about that!” mammon spared you a gaze that only lasted a second, perhaps too aware of the way you looked at him the way he wished his brothers did once in a while. “if there’s one thing about those guys, it’s that they know what they’re doing. and if they say you can do it, then you can. probably.”

as the last of your tears slipped away, you returned mammon’s words with a shaky nod. “you don’t think i’ll fail?”

scoffing, mammon crossed his arms and returned to his usual demeanor. “i didn’t say that.”

“oh.”

“but,” he continued a heartbeat later. “if lucifer calls ya a failure for no reason… you can always come and find me.” as soon as the words left his mouth, mammon jumped up to his feet, crossing the room in a few quick strides.

“so that we can be failures together?” you asked, a smile breaking into your expression.

“hey, even if we’re both failures, i’m still more fun than that stuck-up brother of mine.” the demon grabbed his leather jacket from his coat rack, shrugging it on before fishing around in the pockets for a set of keys. “let’s get going; i’m still babysitting you after all.”

you cleaned your face with your sleeves, making sure your eyes were dry before hopping up to follow mammon. “where are we going?”

“you’ve been here almost two weeks and ya still haven’t seen the whole of the devildom." mammon said, half laughing at the absurdity of it all. "can’t have you getting lost before you can do anything else.”

a/n: season 23 of my life begins today! and episode one is with mammon apparently

comments and reblogs are really appreciated (´ω｀) ♡