#but i like it i dig it i like where it's headed even if it feels like just. bones.

[hysteria-things]

MY EYES ONLY

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a look into chris’s my eyes only…

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: PURE FILTH, rough sex, swearing, choking, stomach bulge, oral (female & male receiving), praising, degradation, daddy kink, jealousy, squirting, spanking, possessiveness, overstimulation, dumbification, cream pie, semi-public

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 888

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: sorry for all the chris stuff lately i’m just so down bad for him but matt will make an appearance (hopefully) soon!

also… the last one will be turned into a fic😉

mattress digging deeper into your back every second, the hand around your throat only tightens. your small palm doesn’t even fit fully around his wrist. moans and pleas of ‘don’t stop!’ aren’t the only sounds echoing off the walls. the headboard bangs rapidly against the wall, a chuckle coming from chris every so often at your fucked-out state.

you two were extra horny this day, it seems, and of course, you had to take advantage of it. the video is taken from your drooling mouth down to the bulge in your stomach, chris quite literally balls deep inside of you. tits bouncing at the rapid pace he’s going, your nails dig deeper into his flesh. “yes! yes! yes!” you scream like a mantra, cum then coating his dick.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

to him, his finger slipped and “accidentally” pressed the post button. it starts casually with the desktop displaying fortnite, then he flips the camera to his face. a smug look is plastered on it before the camera flips again.

this time, it’s of you — under the desk with your boyfriend’s cock stuffed in your mouth. his other hand is wrapped around your locks in a makeshift ponytail, controlling the way you bob your head at a decent rhythm. all you have to do is sit there and take it.

looking at the camera with tears threatening to spill from your eyes, you smile, spit dribbling from the sides of your lips. he pushes your head down further to where the tip of your nose touches his pelvis, a gulp and gag going through his headphones before his face comes into view one last time. chris smiles smugly, with a caption that reads: we’re live! come hang out :)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

legs draped over his shoulders, your fingers massage lightly at the brunette between your plush thighs. the phone is propped up on the nightstand to make sure your entire body is in view. his tongue laps agonizingly slow on your puffy cunt, but it feels so good.

you’ve been a good girl all week; no attitude, no talking back, good manners, etc. you were in for a reward. this is your reward. he wants to eat you out like no other. until you see stars and that’s it.

soft moans fill the air, eyes fluttering closed and your mind blank. just how chris likes it.

growing closer to your high, you get impatient before rutting your hips forward, your moans growing louder. he hums disapprovingly, leaving your dripping hole empty. “no need to get naughty now, baby. i thought you were a good girl for me?”

“i am.” you whimper. “i’m sorry, daddy.”

thrusting his hips subconsciously into the mattress because of the nickname, he delves back in to suck on your clit. that alone washes the first of many orgasms through you. you end up passing out at the end.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

an argument sparked this beauty, which is also chris’s personal favorite. for context, you guys argued over something stupid before going to a party. because you’re so petty, you decided to purposely talk with a random guy at the function to get chris’s blood boiling. giving him those ‘fuck me’ eyes from across the room.

before you knew it, you were holding on for dear life on a pillow in a random bedroom he dragged you into. the velvet dress you’re wearing is bunched above your ass, and your panties are ripped in half and thrown to the floor. crying out apologies into the blanket is no use, skin stinging with his handprint on it. the video is hard to make out because of how fast the phone is shaking in his hand.

“fucking brat.” he spanks you again, a sob leaving your throat. “you think he can fuck you stupid like this? huh?”

his hand makes contact at least three more times during that sentence, and your body shakes uncontrollably. he already ripped two orgasms out of you. “that’s right. take it just like that — whose pussy is this?”

“yours.” you exhale, squirting without warning from the overwhelming pleasure and penetration.

gripping the top of your hair, he lifts your head. “scream it, slut. they can’t hear you.”

“yours, chris! it’s all yours!” you gasp, knuckles white from your grasp on the sheets.

looking down at the way his cock brutally thrusts in and out of your tight pussy, his jaw slacks at the sight. you clench around him as his tip repeatedly hits your cervix, eyes rolling when you cum harder than ever before.

he arches your back further to get as deep as he can with a grunt. his hips stop, long ropes of cum spilling the farthest it goes into your womb. pulling out, he takes two fingers to help his seed stay inside you, the rest dripping down your legs the rest of the night.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

it’s dark. the photo is barely visible but visible at the same time if you look at it long enough. the table in front of you has a reflection of the moon, your tits that are painted white take up half of the screen. the other half is of your face, a smile peeking through your lip bite. a tatted arm snakes around your neck, the selfie angled up high.

be careful leaving your things behind, chris. the text says.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @asluttttforanakinskywalker @hearrtsturns @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2 @sturnsjtop @luverboychris @yapperchris @imaslutforoldermen @madisonlovesyouu @poetatorturadaa @chr1sgirl4life @hiimolivia @jo-777 @sturnskiss @st4rgrlll @mattyblover07 @sm-ec @mattluvsmarni @knowingnothingnoel @mattsgirlfrieeend @bambi-slxt @sturnstvr @sturnclouds @bernardsbendystraws @maryx2xx

[princessbrunette]

so i know i always say that rafe is strictly a girl dad. well, he is. but sometimes i like to humour myself with the universe where he’s the father to the sweetest little boy ever.

the universe would be ironic like that. rafe foolishly knocked you up when he was 22 — the boy still having alot to learn. he was still walking around with that pistol tucked into his waistband, fighting pogues, mouthing off and going on coke rants. you had been terrified, wondering what kind of a father rafe was going to be — even when he promised time and time again, “i’m — i’m getting my shit together alright? i can, hey — we can do this? okay?” with sweat gathered at his hairline and tears in his eyes. thus, when the universe decided to play the hilarious prank which was having the doctor tell you ‘its a boy!’, your first thought was ‘shit.’

because he was bound to be just like rafe, right?

you had seemingly prophetic visions, a spoiled little brat — just like his father was, thundering around in a brightly coloured ralph lauren polo from the baby range, demanding the teet when he saw fit. a girl would have been fine — you’d seen wheezie grow up around rafe and turn out totally fine (aside from the likely trauma.) but a boy? what did rafe cameron know about raising a boy? was your son next up to become a drug slinging, pogue hating, maniac? (with no offence to rafe of course, you were unfortunately very much in love with him but contrary to popular belief that did not disrupt your common sense.)

rafe was over the moon about you being pregnant with a boy too, which did little to comfort you.

the anxiety subsided the second that baby was out of you, his sticky, slimy little body placed onto your chest with rafe crowding your space — his bravado dropped for a second to reveal a childlike awe. his own baby. you could tell it was only now that things became very real for rafe. his eyes well up, covering his shaky grin with an even shakier hand, saying stuff like “shit, oh uh nah i probably shouldn’t cuss infront of the baby anymore right? yeah… my god, you did it baby. brought me my boy. should be so god damn proud.” he croons as his hands dig affectionately into your sore shoulders, smearing a kiss to your sweaty temple. “ahh, aha — what the hell kinda man am i cryin’ at this huh? shit.” he sniffles as he wipes his eyes but you’re not listening. you’re staring at your perfect boy.

he grows into something perfectly reminiscent of both you and rafe’s features, all whilst smushed into the cutest baby you’ve ever seen. you were aware every parent said that about their child, but no — you were certain. he was pampers commercial level cute. ‘top ten cutest babies’ buzzfeed article level cute. sarah would often hold him to her chest and something would be healed as she’d whisper “i can’t believe you came from my brother.” into his wispy hair. he was a true blessing.

with big doe eyes that took up half his face and an appearance that somehow replicated a baby lamb that had been turned into a human on the basis of a magical spell — you had long forgotten about your worries regarding having a boy.

a few years down the line and not much has changed. your baby boy is three years old, chubby fists clutching his empty plastic lightening mcqueen plate as he toddles out onto the porch where rafe sits spread out opposite barry, sipping on a can of beer in the early evening. your son is distracted by a decorative plant, and the two men pay him no mind as they continue talk.

“but — but that’s the thing, right, barry? i dont do that shit anymore and… and i sure as hell am not looking to start again.”

“man i get that rafe you a father now, all serious and shit but think about the money. you thinkin’ with your husband head and not with your cameron head. your daddy was a piece of shit but he had that business mindset that you gotta adopt, bro.”

rafe’s expression flattens, finishing his can before leaning forward onto his elbows. “well uh, newsflash — i don’t wanna be anything like my dad. now if we’re done here…” rafes attention is caught by the mini him waddling into view, holding his plate infront of him.

“more please?” comes the sweetest voice in the world, blinking up at the man he viewed as his entire universe, much like you at times.

“finished your icecream already huh? where’s your mom?” he cranes round, but doesn’t bother searching much further when he hears the padding of your footsteps.

“aye buddy, you know we was just talkin’ about you.” barry leans forward with a smarmy grin and your son gets shy, lifting his shoulders practically to his ears and looking down, glueing himself to rafes leg.

“conversations done, actually.” rafe reminds him, lifting the boy to sit on his hip as he hoists himself to stand. as he does so, you appear in the doorway to the patio— sundress clad belly swollen with another baby.

“rafe could you bring him in? it’s too hot out there for him without his hat.” you furrow your eyebrows, deciding to ignore barry’s presence all together, which of course doesn’t stop him from conversing.

“shit, i ain’t seen you in a while mama. he got you again? you two stay busy, huh?” rafes oldest ‘friend’ chuckles, gold tooth glinting in the sun light, and like your only child — you shy away, sending rafe a parting glance that said ‘just hurry up and rid of him.’

rafe adjusts the baby boy on his hip, now staring down at barry.

“talk to my girl again n’i’ll bring out the old me alright, you don’t want that. go do somethin’ barry, i don’t care what it is just get off my goddamn property yeah?” rafe drawls tiredly, crushing the can in his hand and dropping it carelessly into the wastebin beside barry before heading inside, your son turning to stare sweetly at the dark haired man over his dads shoulder, offering a sticky, wide fingered salute in parting.

atleast rafe was still his usual charming self, son or not.

[mangostarjam]

declarations — kaiju no. 8, hoshina soshiro x reader, use of foods as nicknames, childhood best friends dynamic, reader wears a dress and heels, 2.6k words

here's part one and part two though this piece was inspired by this

"Why do I need to wear a dress?"

Hoshina Soshiro glances up from where he's lounging on your bed. You've already pulled on the dress, of course, and he watches with probably way too much interest as you tug and adjust the way it drapes along your body. It's pretty. It fits perfectly, though you have no idea when Soshiro learned your measurements enough to show up at your door with such a gorgeous dress hanging from his fingers. Maybe he got them from Okonogi-chan?

"You'll be walking 'round with me and the Captain, egg tart, so you've gotta look the part," he says idly, though you can feel the burn of his stare along the newly exposed skin of your back. "And don't forget the heels!"

You glance at the cute, strappy heels he left by your mirror and frown. "If I wear those, I'll be taller than you, Soshiro-kun."

"Aw, that doesn't matter," Soshiro says. He sits up and you look away from the flex of his incredibly defined abdominal muscles beneath his compression shirt, which he apparently wears all the time, even under his formal dress uniform with all its tassels and buttons.

God. Embarrassing. You really need to get your staring issue under control.

"I can fight whoever looks at ya."

"Wha— ?" Heat sears across your face as you splutter and spin around to face him. The skirt of your dress twirls with the movement and you catch his gaze snapping down to your thighs. "Why would you need to fight anyone?"

"Hm?" You take a step back as he gets up and stalks over to you, holding your breath subconsciously as he kneels at your feet and takes one of the heels in hand. Your room suddenly feels warmer, the air hushed, as if the two of you are the only ones who exist in the entire universe. Soshiro chuckles quietly and shoots you a grin that makes your knees feel wobbly.

"Soshiro-kun?"

"Well, 'course I'm gonna fight for ya, apricot," Soshiro says. You flinch as he reaches out to grip your calf, the rough callouses on his fingers scraping lightly as he lifts your leg and slides your foot into the shoe. "You're my best friend, yeah?"

And I'm just a simple man in love goes unspoken as he carefully ties the silk around your ankle to keep the shoe in place. You wobble a bit at the balance and he glances up from beneath his violet bangs. "Hold onto my shoulders," he says quietly, reaching for your other leg. "Don't worry, I've got you."

"S-Soshiro-kun, I can put these on myself," you mumble, heat flaring up your spine at the careful pressure of his fingers on your ankle. He lifts your leg and you grab abruptly at his shoulders, fingers digging into the thick muscle there as you regain your footing with his support.

Soshiro lets out a breath. "I know," he says simply. "But I wanna do it."

Is this what men do when they're in love? You wouldn't know — the only man in your life you've ever cared about is right in front of you, and he's refused to elaborate on his strange statement no matter how many times you've asked. You have a feeling he means it, though.

Like, really means it. You love Soshiro — of course you do. You've always loved him. But lately it's felt… different.

Still comfortable. He's still your biggest supporter and vice versa, and he still knows exactly how to cheer you up and make you laugh. You know all his ticks and tells, and you take great pride in taking care of him while he's looking out for everyone else.

But at the same time… it's uncomfortable.

These little touches — they're new. The way his gaze lingers on your body is also new. Or… maybe you've just never noticed before. It's not a bad thing. But it makes you feel strange and fluttery inside and you catch yourself daydreaming about what it'd be like to actually get a hickey from Soshiro. Your best friend.

You stare down at the top of his head and try to repress a shiver as he skims up your legs to where your skirt rests against your thighs. His touch leaves behind a trail of warmth that burrows deep. "Um— ?"

"Ya look real pretty like this," he says. You're still holding onto his shoulders as he rises from his crouch, your entire body hot and hyperaware of how close he's standing once he straightens. "I could really just eat ya up." The smirk on his face makes your heart thump painfully in your chest, but he doesn't give you a chance to question it before he's grabbing your hands and spinning you around in a little twirl.

"S-Soshiro!"

Your best friend laughs as you wobble precariously before regaining your balance, your hands gripping his in a vice as you stumble to a stop. The familiar sound makes everything feel lighter, the heat simmering into something loose and… painful. Your chest aches. "Whoa, lollipop, watch your step!"

"You did that on purpose," you accuse, but you giggle anyway at his lopsided grin. It's bright and undeniably fond, a smile that features in all of your memories together. "You still haven't explained why you'd need to fight people, y'know."

"Let's just say I've got my work cut out for me with such a gorgeous partner," Soshiro says, looping your arm through his and angling for the door. Is he… trying to sweet talk you? Does he think that'll make you forget about his intention to brawl during the meal? "Ya ready for dinner, beansprout?"

"Hold on, don't forget your jacket," you say. He lets you step away to snatch up his formal dress jacket, though his hand hovers, stretching out towards you as you turn back to help him into it. You slip his buttons into place carefully, smoothing out the dense fabric and ignoring your warm face as he rests his hands on your hips to keep you steady. "There! Now we can go to dinner, Vice Captain, sir."

Soshiro's hands tighten at your waist. "Whoa, peanut, we ain't in public, yet."

You roll your eyes. He's been oddly insistent lately about when you use his rightful title. "C'mon, Soshiro-kun, before they start and we miss all the food!"

Your best friend loops your arm through his again and leads you out into the hallway, laughing when you try to pull your arm free only to fail as he tugs you more securely towards him. "Hey now, sugar cube, no runnin' away. We've gotta show up together or else people'll think they've got a chance."

You wrinkle your nose. "A chance at what?"

"They're already lucky bein' able to see you all dressed up," Soshiro continues as if he didn't hear you. "Maybe we should ditch the party."

"You're literally the Vice Captain of this base," you point out. "I think your absence would be noticed."

"What if we sneak out after dessert?"

"Why would we sneak out?"

Soshiro glances at you and pauses in front of the door leading into the ballroom. "Just 'cause I'm Vice Captain doesn't mean I'll forget to rescue you from all the socializin'."

"My hero," you joke, but several hours later finds you scanning the crowd uneasily for a head of violet hair.

The party is full of officers (easily distinguishable in their dress uniforms) and esteemed guests from various kaiju tech companies eager to promote their new products. You stuck to Soshiro's side for the most part, his hand firm and bracing at your lower back, but duty called and you ended up in a conversation with a tech mogul's son while Soshiro attended to his captain.

"Sorry, I know I'm not as good looking as the Vice Captain, but am I really boring you that badly?" the tech mogul — Takashi? Tadashi? — asks. You blink in surprise and return your attention to him, shifting on your heels.

"I apologize," you say, "it's just been a while…"

"It's been ten minutes," Takashi/Tadashi snorts. "If you don't mind me asking, how long have the two of you been together?"

Again? Why does everyone ask that? "We've known each other since childhood," you say. The man raises an eyebrow.

"Are you not… together, then?"

Something about his tone makes you bristle. "We've always been together," you say. You feel Soshiro before you see him, his hand resting warm on your lower back, just at the dip of your spine where it curves at your butt. This is a new spot for him to touch, a little lower than usual, but you lean into him anyway, seeking the comfort of your best friend. "Right, Vice Captain?"

"Who's askin'?" You startle a little at the subtle chill in his tone. Soshiro tucks you against his side with a hum as Tadashi introduces himself. "Nice to meet you, too," Soshiro grins. "Thanks for keepin' my cinnamon roll company."

Maybe it's your imagination, but did you hear a slight emphasis on "my"? And what's with dropping a nickname in public? Usually he's careful about referring to you by your surname when around strangers. The Third Division knows the two of you are close, but the ballroom is packed with people who have no idea about your relationship with the Vice Captain.

Tadashi doesn't seem concerned, but he does take a small step back. "Why of course, Vice Captain Hoshina," he says, "It was my privilege to be in the presence of such beauty."

You can feel Soshiro's arm tense as he slides it around your waist, but his tone is light. "Whoops, sorry, Takashi-san, duty calls. We'll be taking our leave now."

The crowd of pleasantly chattering officers and bigwigs parts easily as Soshiro guides you through towards the large banquet table full of small bites and snacks. You raise an eyebrow. "Wasn't his name Tadashi?"

"My bad," Soshiro says. You narrow your eyes at him and he laughs. "It's fine, my lil' blueberry. His father's the one in charge of their company and Captain Ashiro already made a good impression on him."

It doesn't surprise you that he already knows all of this — for all his joking, Soshiro's always been good at his job. What is surprising is that he was a little mean to the guy for no reason.

"Well, thanks for rescuing me," you say. "I was trying really hard not to yawn in his face."

Soshiro laughs and flicks your forehead fondly. "You ready to sneak outta this party, cupcake?"

"You won't get in trouble?" you ask, looking around doubtfully at the crowd. A few officers meet your eye and turn away quickly, which is weird. You reach up to rub at your forehead. "What about Captain Ashiro?"

"If we stay any longer, I'm gonna end up fightin' those guys from the Second Division," Soshiro says lightly, tilting his head towards the officers who just turned away from you. "They've been starin' at ya all night."

"No fighting," you say immediately. Soshiro snorts and crosses his arms over his chest. Your eyes skip over the way his shoulders bunch at the movement and you meet the eye of a female officer standing at the other end of the banquet table. Her face lights up and she moves towards the two of you, snagging two flutes of champagne along the way.

"Vice Captain Hoshina!" she says brightly, offering him the delicate glass. "I've been looking for you all night! It's been a while, hasn't it?"

You shift away, feeling suddenly like you're intruding on something private. Thankfully, the banquet table is a good distraction, and you move closer to it, wondering if you can find the dessert section while Soshiro catches up with this lady who's apparently an old friend. She must be from the Second Division. Maybe Soshiro met her when he visited their base to demonstrate and instruct on sword techniques?

You glance at her again. She's pretty, wearing the formal dress uniform of a female officer, though it looks like her long stockings aren't quite long enough, because the visible skin between her stockings and the bottom of her skirt is definitely against uniform regulations. She looks comfortable standing next to Soshiro, though, and the sight makes your insides twist strangely.

He's never mentioned her to you before. You remember greeting him after his visit to their base, accepting the snacks he brought back and tossing him your finished book filled with scribbled notes so he could take his turn reading it. Is he close with her? He must be, for her to look for him all night… right? It's not like you expect to know everything about Soshiro — of course he has his secrets and his own life.

And what if… what if he… and she… what if they were… together? You've never broached the topic of your love lives with each other, though it's never seemed to matter. You had your fair share of meaningless crushes during your time as an officer, but it was hard to care about pursuing anything romantic when you always had Soshiro.

Oh. Oh.

You are… an idiot. You feel so, so stupid. But Soshiro said he's a simple man in love — with you.

You're staring blindly at a platter of tiny cheesecakes when you feel someone approach, interrupting your train of thought. You glance up with a polite smile as one of the officers from the Second Division steps closer. "Those look delicious, don't they?"

"They do," you say. The officer looks nice enough — boyishly charming, in a way — but you find yourself glancing past him to scan the crowd for a head of violet hair.

Are you in love with Soshiro? Yes — of course you are — and maybe the semantics and nitty gritty details don't actually matter when you just feel right with him.

"Heya, pudding cup." Soshiro's touch burns along your lower back. "Time to head out?"

You twist towards him with a smile that makes his eyes widen. "I missed you."

Pink creeps up his neck as he grins back at you. "Yeah? Excuse me, officer, but I'll be takin' it from here."

The Second Division officer nods and mumbles some formalities as you leave with Soshiro, who doesn't take his hand off your back. The steady pressure of his fingers makes something curl in your gut. "What about the other Second Division officer? The one who brought you champagne?"

"Hm? Who?"

"Soshiro-kun…"

"She's just a friend," Soshiro says, snickering when you scrunch your nose at him. "Don't worry, bonbon, I've only got eyes for you."

The chatter and shuffling of the crowd fades as the two of you exit the ballroom and slip down a side hallway in the direction of your rooms. Soshiro drops his hand from your back, but you grab it before he can get too far, lacing your fingers together and peeking at the redness of his ears with a small smile. You turn together down another hallway, this one illuminated by squares of moonlight that do nothing to hide the clench of his jaw as he glances at you and squeezes your hand.

"Aren'tcha proud of me? No fighting."

You snort. "Thanks for not starting a brawl during a Defense Force party," you tease. "You're the best Vice Captain we could ever ask for."

"I'm not messin' around," he says. "I can't help it if I just wanna keep ya to myself."

"You don't have to worry about that," you say. You wonder if he can feel your pulse pounding in your wrist. "I'm all yours."

[miirohs]

sore wa hanabi [k.s]

pairing: Ken Sato x GN!Reader wc: 1.4k cw: n/a an: this was inspired by hanabi by ikimonogakari and motospeed 24 by bibi, i fucking love those songs so much UGH. pls ignore the plot holes i was tired and it was like 12 when i started!!! i love writing chat

The last of the sunlight rippled across the water, a slow breeze blowing past you on the steps of the house, watching as the city seemed to come alive.

The sounds of a motorcycle in the distance distracted you, head shooting up from your knees as Professor Sato limped out of the front door, gently setting down his walking stick as he sat next to you.

“He’s coming back home then?”

It wasn’t really a question, rather a statement.

“I believe so. He was out for interviews almost all day.”

He didn’t respond, digging into the pocket of his khaki vest, pulling out a worn flyer and handing it to you.

“What is this?” You asked, gently unfolding the colorful paper.

“It was a fireworks festival. I’m sure they still hold them yearly around here, and Emiko took Kenji often when he was younger. I’ve seen it myself from the apartments sometimes, and they’re a sight to see.” He explained softly, smiling into the distance as your eyes flitted over the contents.

“I see, but what exactly-”

“I think you should go see them, you and Kenji need some alone time as well,” He didn’t let you finish, poking your leg with his walking stick, “Plus, it would be good for me and Mina because we need to get more data on Emi, and Ken won’t let us do that without breath down my shoulders about us hurting her.” 

You could barely respond as he got up, limping his way back to the door without further explanation. “But Ken is going to want to see Emi and-”

“Me and Mina can take care of her if anything happens. If the boy troubles you about that, tell him I told you he was to do so. He may be Ultraman now, but I'm still his father!” He cackled, shaking his head affectionately as he closed the door gently.

The light was gone now, but you could hear the sound of his bike getting closer, rubbing your arms to regain your warmth as you waited. Soon enough, Ken appeared against the twilight sky, silhouette illuminated by the headlights of his parked bike.

“Hey baby, what are you doing out here?” he greeted, tone filled with a mixture of exhaustion and relief upon seeing you.

“The weather was nice out, and the view was gorgeous.” You responded, turning to him as he sat down next to you. “The view is gorgeous from inside too,” He joked, intertwining a hand into yours, “I don’t get why you wanna sit out here, it’s cold and you don’t even have a jacket on.”

You clutched the paper in your other, taking a deep breath in. You had no reason not to, it could be a good surprise.

“You know, i was thinking we haven’t had a proper date night since we moved here and-”

“We had a movie night though!” Ken chimed in, staring at you, confused. It was like he couldn’t see where you were going with it. “Yes, we had a movie night honey, but it was interrupted every ten minutes by the loud baby we happen to be taking care of, remember?” You said, exasperated. 

“I would baby, but what about Emi?” 

“Your dad and Mina can take care of her. He said you’d trouble me about it, and that I should tell you that he insists.” You tilted your head towards the city.

Ken chuckled, shaking his head. “That sounds like him honestly, but where do you wanna go? You gotta have something planned if you’re insisting on dragging me out.”

“I was thinking we could ride through the city, I'm pretty sure the seaside looks gorgeous at night.” You could barely hold back your smile as he wrinkled his nose, it was almost like you could see the gears turning in his head.

The exhaustion almost seemed to leave his face, a smile taking its place. “Alright, you win. Go get your jacket and meet me out here in… five?” You nodded, getting up from your spot.

“Five minutes,” you repeated to yourself softly, heading inside to grab your jacket. The excitement was building as you folded up the paper, gently hiding it in your pocket as you grabbed your helmet.

He was already near the motorcycle, leaned over the dashboard as you approached him, barely able to contain the excitement.

“I think you remember how to ride a bike, right baby?” You nodded, allowing him to put your helmet on for you, securing it till you felt comfortable. “Of course. I’m ready when you are.”

Ken winked, helping you onto the bike before climbing on himself. The engine roared to life and you wrapped your arms around his waist, adrenaline running through your veins as you started down the path. The wind was fast, seawater blowing into your face as you both skirted across the water.

​​The city was a blur of nightlights as you weaved through the streets, laughs of delight leaving your mouth as you turned and sped down the straights. The neon signs and billboards created a colorful mosaic, a dazzling display of light. 

Ken glanced back at you briefly, shouting something at you, a wide smile on his face as he pressed down on the accelerator.

“This feels so familiar, what are you doing to make this happen baby?!” You pressed your face into his face, barely hiding the grin on your face as you shouted back. “A magician never tells Ji!” 

You slowed near the city limits, allowing for you to nudge him in the direction you wanted to go. The city faded into quieter roads, riding on the outskirts of the city, the smell of the sea intermingling with the scent of his perfume. The waves crashed against the seawall, spraying you with water.

You looked up, narrowed eyes growing wide as bright lights went off in the sky.

“There, look!” you exclaimed, your voice barely audible over the rush of wind and the distant explosions of the fireworks. You squeezed Ken’s waist, taking one hand off to point up at the sky.

He followed your hand, relaxing in awe as he watched the colorful display unfold above you. It wasn’t long until you found a place to park, Ken eagerly pulling you off the motorcycle, running down to the beach with you in hand.

“Sup- Whoa, surprise Ji!” You laughed as you both stumbled, pulling closer to the source of the lights. The sand was surprisingly cool beneath your feet as you stood on the shore, fireworks exploding in a variety of colors.

Greens, pinks and golds colored the sky, painting the dark with bangs of light, fizzling out just as quickly as they came up.

“Your mom used to bring you here before you moved, didn’t she?” You looked at him, the light reflecting in his glassy eyes, softened by nostalgia.

"Yeah, she did. How did you know?"

“I’ve heard a thing or two about your trips.” You commented to the side, allowing him to lead you aimlessly, "I thought you might like to revisit those memories." You squeezed his hand as he paused once more, turning to look at you.

“She used to call them something else- hanabi. It was the Japanese word for fireworks, I think.” He brought up a hand, wiping his eye on his free arm.

“That sounds beautiful,” You turned to him, floating closer and closer every second.

There was nothing more to be said, holding his hand with as much affection as you could, fireworks exploding somewhere in the background. The light illuminated the sharpness of his features, and you leaned in, closing the distance between you and Ken. 

His lips met yours, soft yet firm. The fireworks seemed to pause for that brief moment, allowing you to be trapped in the bubble you’d made for yourselves. Ken's arms were wrapped around you, holding you close as if he was never going to let go.

en rested his forehead against yours as you pulled apart. His eyes scanned yours, as if trying to capture every detail of the moment to memory.

"I've missed this," Ken murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as you pulled away.

“No kidding, we should do this more often shouldn’t we?” You giggled, running your finger down the ridges of his nose, booping the tip.

Ken nodded quietly, allowing you to lean in closer once more. "Definitely. It's moments like these that make life more bearable."

You leaned in again, brushing your lips against his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder. The last of the embers faded into the sky, pieces of your heart drifting off with them as you watched Ken.

"Let's come back here again," Ken suggested softly, his voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the waves. "Definitely," you agreed. You could get used to it.

[mitskicain]

navi | m.list

౨ৎ⊹. ultraman, ultrafine, ultramine — ken sato x reader

© mitskicain all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

synopsis: you give ken some good news. he wonders what the future holds for the both of you.

content warnings: some cursing, but other than that just fluff & mutual pining !!

word count: 1.3k

· · ─────── ·{ ✐ᝰ.ᐟ}· ─────── · ·

part two.

“No, c’mon, try again, here.” You motion for him to close his eyes and he obliges; bringing the spoon to his lips—his mouth opens, closes, then chews. You sit back down, waiting for his answer.

“Whitetail?” He guesses, face twisted into an expression of please-don’t-get-mad-at-me.

You frown, then laugh.

“Shrimp.” You say, shaking your head.

Ken furrows his eyebrows and groans, feigning annoyance. “They taste the same.”

“They don’t.” You retort, scrunching your nose at him. He chuckles and throws his hands up in surrender.

The two of you are sitting side-by-side in the back of a restaurant’s sushi bar, trying out the latest craze that’s hit the city: kaisendon. A glorious rice bowl piled high with fresh seafood—salmon, tuna, crab, shrimp, and roe. You’re practically drooling by the time the food gets to the table, eyes as wide as big dinner plates. Ken shakes his head at your reaction, chuckles, and reaches for the soy sauce. You grab his hand and give him an incredulous look.

“What?” He asks, confused and also a little terrified.

“You’re going to ruin it.” You say, voice insistent. You feel his hand twitch and you tighten your grasp. “Drop the soy.”

He does, and runs his hand over where you had grabbed him. He looks at you, asking you telepathically: uhh, what just happened?

“The whole flavor profile of kaisendon is insanely delicate.” You explain, splitting your wooden chopsticks. “The soy sauce would overpower and completely ruin the dish.”

“Oh,” he sounds, dumbfounded. “I didn’t know that.”

You huff and smile to yourself. Leaning forward on the bar, you prop your chin on your palm. “I expected my readers to be a little more knowledgeable than that.”

He laughs and rolls his eyes playfully. You do the same.

“Okay Anton Ego.” He teases, and you punch him in the shoulder. The both of you almost fall over laughing.

Regaining composure, you smile in his direction before finally digging into the dish in front of you. You sample all the different sashimi in your bowl, savoring the unique flavor of each one, before mixing it up and scooping a spoonful of it into your mouth. Pure bliss. Heaven. Orgasmic, even. It’s so good a small moan escapes your lips.

Ken bursts out laughing, again. And for a moment, you’re struck, again.

He wipes a tear from his face before huffing out, satisfied. You grin at his reaction. You loved seeing him like this—rambunctious and chaotic. It was a side barely anyone else got to see. In fact, seeing him at all was barely anything anyone got to see. Ken was still the same all-work-no-play all-star athlete that you tried digging up dirt on, the one that got you fired. Fast forward two months later, the two of you are tearing up each alley in search of all the foodie adventures the city has to offer. Whether it be soba noodles, tempura, or ramen—Ken is down for whatever. He listens to you rave about the different places you want to try, and your intricate explanations detailing the dishes that you eat.

“You can make two dollar sushi seem like a million bucks.” He told you once, and you took it as a compliment. You credit him with your career as a flood blogger, given he was the one who actually pushed you to do it. In fact, the night that he did, he hovered over you until you finalized your account and posted your first review, shaky hands and all. He cheered with you the first time you received a comment, and patted you on the back the first time you got a feature. Before you knew it, surely enough, your account was growing, and so did the recognition around your name. He grinned with pride when you had gotten your first 1000 followers.

“I got a call from ByFood earlier today.” You say, interrupting the silence.

You see Ken’s ears practically perk up as he turns to you, mouth full of rice and fish. You fight back the urge not to pinch his cheeks.

“They said they want me on the show.”

“Oh my god.” He says, mouth still full.

“Oh my god.” He says again, hand covering his mouth this time, chewing and swallowing as fast as he could.

You laugh as he wraps his arms around your shoulders, biceps heaving and lifting you up out of pure excitement. You squeal and kick your feet, causing the guests near your table to shoot judgemental glances in your direction. You knit your brows and press your palms together apologetically.

Putting you down, Ken is practically beaming down at you—pearly whites on full display and all.

“I knew you could do it.” He declares, “you’re going to be amazing. God, I can’t wait.”

You chuckle, turn your head, and wave him off. “You’re being too kind.”

“No, no, I’m serious.” He says, grabbing your shoulders and craning his head to see your face. “You’re going to be amazing. I know it.”

“Really?” You ask, looking up at him, face just inches away. You see your lips reflected in the whites of his eyes and for a minute, you think he’s going to do it. His face is twisted in such a strangled expression of desire, and he is so close, but he breaks the spell.

“You’ve got something.” He mumbles almost incoherently, removing a grain of rice that was on the side of your lip.

“Oh,” you sound, stunned that he had just quickly sat back down and ruined the moment.

You sit back down as well and wipe your hands on the fabric of your skirt, your gaze fixed downwards.

“I’m really happy for you.” Ken says after a while, breaking the awkward silence. He smiles slightly but it quickly disappears. He turns his head towards the now empty dish sitting in front of him, poking the small pieces of roe left behind with his chopsticks.

“I guess we won’t be able to see each other as often then, huh?” His voice disappointed. Your breath catches in your throat. You look up to see his pained expression.

“It doesn’t have to be that way Ken,” you plead, reaching for him. He looks at your hand on top of his and then at you, eyes filled with surprise and relief.

“I want to see you.” You mumble, voice barely above a whisper, “I want to see you a lot more, actually.”

His mouth is slightly open, breathing quick and shallow. He searches for a hint of ingenuity in your statement and finds none. Tilting his head, he asks: “yeah?”

“Yeah.” You reply, nodding your head.

You stare at his throat and see him swallow hard, Adam's apple bobbing. Gosh, his beautiful neck. You look back up to see his face and find he is already staring at you.

“I want you, y/n.” He confesses.

The air stills. You feel his hand twitch underneath yours but neither of you move away. Instead, you move closer.

“I want you too, Ken.” You murmur, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You close your eyes and press your lips onto his. You can feel the way he melts into the kiss—the way his shoulders slump and relax forward, towards you. You wrap your arms around his neck for balance and you feel your right foot pop up, just like in the movies. When the two of you pull away, you grin widely.

“What?” He asks, chuckling.

“Nothing, I just..” your voice trails off as you feel the skin of your lips, missing the absence of his already. You look up, smiling. “I’ve just always wanted to know what that feels like.”

He laughs, head thrown back and hooting. God, you could listen to his laugh forever.

“So,” he says, still laughing, “what would you rate the experience?”

Now it’s your turn to laugh as you pull him close and press another kiss onto his lips.

“Five stars.” You smile. He smiles back.

Below your fourth rib, in your chest, again, something squeezes.

prev | next

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author’s note: holy shit I did not expect the first one to do so well HAHAHA here’s a second, impulsive addition to the story, lmk what you think in the comments! also bonus: screenshots of some of my conversations with friends about this story

[yeonzzzn]

for astra: park sunghoon

part two of for astra | spotify playlist

pairing: sunghoon x afab!reader word count: 2.4k

synopsis: sunghoon finds himself waking up and repeating the same day over and over again until he finally breaks the cycle and finds himself on a space station called ‘astra 1’. he soon learns he is one of the few who are still alive and that they aren’t alone…

genre: space!au, survival!au, neurologist!sunghoon, neurologist!reader, strangers to lovers, angst, smut.

warnings: swearing, blood, m*rder, guns go pew pew, other life forms, some science talk, unprotected sex, biting, hair pulling, sunghoon fucks reader against the wall, adding more as the story progresses, MINORS DNI!!! (these tags will be on every part even if they do not consist of said tag)

intro | part one | part two

this is part TWO for the series, please read the INTRO and part ONE before this part!!💜

Sunghoon opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was his reflection with the infinite space staring back at him through the windows. Everything felt fuzzy as his eyes and brain adjusted. He blinked a few times and tried to move, eyes whipping down to his wrists and seeing them bound to the chair he was locked in. 

He tried to kick his legs, finding they too, were bound to this chair. 

Sunghoon’s heart raced as he thrashed around in the chair, trying hard to break free. His eyes wander around the…lab? He was in a lab. Neuromods sat on the counter to his left along with testing beakers of what looked like the Typhon’s blood. X-rays hung above the counter that he could only assume were his. He continued to thrash around in the chair, taking notice he had IVs also hooked in his right arm at the crease of his elbow and the sound of a machine buzzing as his left arm was squeezed, assuming for taking his blood pressure. 

“What the fuck…” he whispers, continuing to try and pull his arms free. 

“I wouldn’t continue that if I were you,” the voice startled him, his head whipping to his right and seeing another male, their back facing him and typing away at the computer in front of him, “You need to keep that IV in.” 

That voice…

It couldn’t be…

The male turned around, leaning against the desk and crossing his arms over his chest, that ring placed directly on his middle finger. 

Sunghoon was staring back at himself. 

“What the fuck!!!” he yelled, trying to force his wrists from the restraints, them digging into his skin and a mixture of red and black blood dripping from the top of his wrist. 

“I’m going to need you to calm down,” The other Sunghoon said with an eye roll, “You and I are the same person, there’s no need to be acting a fool.” 

Is this how it felt to be employed by him? 

“I died!” Sunghoon snapped, shaking his head, “Where the fuck am I?! Who the fuck are you?!” 

The male sighed, looking down at the floor. A white ball floated up to Sunghoon just then, tilted to its side. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt the sadness radiating off this small little ball. 

“Nov!” he cried, pulling once again at his restraints, “Get me out of here!” 

The ball turned and looked at the other him, another sigh leaving his lips. 

“That’s not November,” The male said, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Sunghoon glanced back and forth between himself(?) and the bot. He felt betrayed. 

“Been a while, hasn’t it?” the bot spoke. Sunghoon’s eyes widened.

“He-Heeseung?” his voice was barely above a whisper, tears swelling his eyes. 

Heeseung floated closer to him, “Everything is okay,” he said, a hint of hurt behind his voice, “We’ll explain everything.” 

“You’re dead,” Sunghoon shook his head, “I saw the videos! I saw how that phantom took over your body! I saw it in the trauma center!” 

“Just…” his best friend backed away, tilting himself to the side, “Just let us explain.” 

Sunghoon looked back at himself, “Fucking explain what the fuck is going on!!” 

The other male sighed again, giving a painful expression, “What you just experienced was a mixture of my past memories and a simulation.” 

Sunghoon furrowed his brows, “That’s not possible,” he shook his head, “That’s not possible!!” 

The other male tilted his head, “So were the neuromods,” his eyes glanced at the few sitting on the counter, “And we made it happen. You saw it firsthand in the simulation.” 

Sunghoon looked down at the floor, squeezing his hands into fists, “How are the two of us?” 

Heeseung sighs, “The same way I am in this bot, psyche transfer.” 

So his best friend was still dead. His mind was just backed up into a fucking neuromod and shoved into a fucking ball. Sunghoon could feel his heart ripping. 

But does that mean…?

Sunghoon quickly shot his head back up and looked at the man standing at his side, seeing the same pained expression looking back at him, “I’m a copy, aren’t I?” 

The real him nodded, “You are part of my psyche that I transferred into a phantom. Our psyche is so strong, you took over the phantom’s body,” The real him walked across the lab, fidgeting with the neuromods, “She was one hell of a neurologist, wasn’t she? Couldn’t have made any of this possible without her.” 

You. The way other Sunghoon spoke…you were truly gone. 

Sunghoon watched as the real him went back to the computer, typing a few things in, then turned back around to face him. Sunghoon studied his own features, seeing the real him hadn’t slept for who knew how long. 

Sunghoon looked back to the floor, “Why did you do this? How do I even look human?” 

Heeseung moved closer to him, “Since your psyche was so strong and took over the phantom, your body morphed into a human state, completely taking over in every aspect.” 

It made sense. Sunghoon always knew he was strong-willed, and he guessed this body was living proof of that. 

“Why are you doing this, Sunghoon?” he asked the real him, glaring up at him, “Why did you put me through hell?!” 

The real him swallowed, eyes swelling and clearly looked like he was fighting against his own demons deep within, “To save her.” 

He didn’t even need to ask who he meant. He shared a heart and mind with the man across from him anyway, “How?” it was all Sunghoon could ask.

“These simulations,” the male said, running his hand through his hair, “Of making you relive our memories in hopes of finding a way to save her. To gather more pieces of her psyche through us.” he pointed his finger between the copy and real him, “If I can gather enough of her psyche, I can upload it into a neuromod and bring her back.” 

Sunghoon scoffed, “Simulations. Plural. Mean’s you’ve put me through this multiple times?” 

The other Sunghoon nodded, “And each time you reach the end, I am a step closer to bringing her back.” 

Sunghoon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Couldn’t comprehend what he was even being told. He’s a phantom? He’s relived watching you die over and over again? It’s no different than what those damned scientists put him through. 

He looked over at Heeseung then back at his real self, “Heeseung is dead, how did you get his psyche?” 

“He…he killed the phantom that took over me,” Heeseung quickly said, “And stripped out the neuromods I planted into myself.” Sunghoon didn’t need to hear the rest to understand what the real him did next. Probably separated the phantom and Heeseung’s psyches and then uploaded them into the bot. 

“One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do…killing my best friend to free him from that creature.” the male mumbled, looking off into the infinite space, “The hardest thing for sure, is the fact I couldn’t save YN. I wasn’t strong enough to pull her back into the station.” 

He had a realization then, “After that panel closed you escaped to the shuttle bay, like she told us to.” 

He nodded, “Ran as quickly as I could. November followed behind me and reminded me about the ship that had a lab, which is where we are now. I knew then what I had to do.” 

And the rest is history, I guess. 

The real Sunghoon glanced back at him, releasing a sigh, “Heeseung, prepare for the next run.” 

The next run? 

Sunghoon shook his head, “What do you mean, the next run?!” 

“I will continue to put you through the simulations until I’ve gathered enough of her,” he turned back around and typed at the keyboard, “I will bring her back.” 

Sunghoon started thrashing around again in the chair trying to get free. He couldn’t do this. Not again. He knew exactly what had to be done for the simulation to even work. He can’t do it. Refused. 

Heeseung hovered over Sunghoon, a small mechanical arm extending out of his body that came to three prongs at the end. 

No. No. No. No. 

He closed his eyes and slammed his head into the headrest, squeezing them so tight and rocking his head side to side, “No!!”

“Sunghoon,” Heeseung said, “Look at me, please.” 

He didn’t understand why, but hearing his best friend's voice…he slowly reopened his eyes. He didn’t see Heeseung, but saw multiple paper butterflies hanging from the ceiling, “Butterflies…” 

The other male looked up as well, a weak smile curled at his lips, “YN loved them,” he let out a small laugh, “She used to make these paper ones and left them all over Astra 1 for me, Jake, and Hee to find. It was a silly game of hers and I’d give anything to play it again.” He then turned and looked at him, “That’s why every time you saw a butterfly in the simulation you’d black out. It was our psyche fighting back the trauma of losing her.” 

It made sense, all of it did. Seeing the inkblot butterflies, seeing your face for the first time…Sunghoon’s eyes teared up as he looked at each butterfly. Small pieces of you are still kept alive through them. 

The real Sunghoon clenched his fists at his side, “I miss her, so fucking much,” his voice cracked with pain, and his body started to shake, “I can’t…I can’t live without her,” he smiled weakly again, rubbing the back of his hands against his eyes, “I remember meeting her like it was yesterday. We hired her based on her background. It was so impressive,” he crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the floor, “Hired her immediately. It wasn’t even a question. I didn’t fully meet her until Astra 1 was put into space. Heeseung promoted her to being the head neurologist beside him and me, of course, to help run the neuromod division and transferring of the psyche. Jake was also so impressive, it was a no-brainer why YN and him were best friends, both were so smart.” he smiled again, “Jake was obsessed with slasher films. Even created a ghost face mask out of printer paper and stole a couple of black table clothes to make a ghost face suit. The man was a nerd, but I loved him too, nevertheless.” He took a deep breath in, “YN and I always just passed each other in the hallways and barely said a word to each other when I would visit their division to check up on the neuromod progression. Always made small smiles and stole glances at each other. The attraction was there and only a matter of time before something really sparked between us both.” 

Sunghoon could feel his heart really starting to break now, hearing the way his other self spoke about you and how shakey his voice was…

“I knew I loved her the minute I saw her really smile for the first time. It was the same day she and Jake perfected the neuromods, or well, proved that it could be done. They just had a first successful trial run. And good god the way she smiled…She owned my heart then and there. Heeseung had to convince me for days to ask her out, and when I did…I couldn’t let her go after that. She became my reason for everything,” Real Sunghoon changed his facial expression to soft and sad, to hard and eager, “So I will do whatever it takes to bring her back. I don’t care how many simulations you’ll need to go through. I will continue to wipe your memory of it and shove you back in over and over again.” 

Tears now filled and fell down his face, shaking his head back and forth and started fidgeting again in the chair, pulling and licking his legs to break the restraints, “No!” he shouted, “I can’t do it!! I can’t watch her die again!” The tears flooded out now, his vision going blurry, “I promised!” he screamed, “I told her I wouldn’t forget her ever again! I told her I wouldn’t forget! I promised!” 

The real Sunghoon knelt down in front of him, cupping the sides of his face between his hands, “Shhhh,” he whispered, his own eyes filling with tears, “This needs to happen, so she can live again.” 

Sunghoon shook his head the best he could between the hands, “I love her…I can’t do it again…not again.” 

The real him gave him a sad look and then said, “Heeseung, hand me the serum so I can inject him with some and knock his ass out.” Sunghoon shook his head, seeing out of the corner of his eye, another small arm extending out of the other side of Heeseung’s bot body and reaching on the counter to grab a syringe and hand it to the real him, “I truly am sorry,” he cleared his throat and stuck the needle into the IV connected to his arm, “But I will save YN. She will be with me again.” 

Sunghoon felt himself relax, his vision slowly starting to blur. He studied his face, seeing there was no way of talking himself out of this decision. That the real him has completely lost himself, all in the name of love. All for you. 

He blinked a couple of times, trying to fight back the drowsiness but knowing he was going to fail anyway. The last thing he saw was the real Sunghoon walking away, and looking at his reflection in the window, seeing dark purple eyes staring right back at him. 

Heeseung hovered back over him, the three prongs leveling to his right eye. His vision completely blurred, and his hearing faded in and out, he heard Sunghoon say, “Reupload project Astra.” 

Then everything went dark. 

[ 𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶… ]

[ … ]

[ … ]

[ … ]

[ 𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙿𝙰𝚂𝚂𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 ]

[ ****** ] 

[ … ]

[ 𝚆𝙴𝙻𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺, 𝚂𝚄𝙽𝙶𝙷𝙾��𝙽 ]

[ 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙳𝙾? ]

[ 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙈𝙀𝙉𝘾𝙀 𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙅𝙀𝘾𝙏 𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙍𝘼 ]

[ 𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶… ]

[ … ]

[ … ]

[ 𝖴𝖯𝖫𝖮𝖠𝖣 𝖯𝖱𝖮𝖩𝖤𝖢𝖳 𝖠𝖲𝖳𝖱𝖠? ]

[ 𝙔𝙀𝙎 ]

[ //𝖴𝖯𝖫𝖮𝖠𝖣𝖨𝖭𝖦… ]

[ 𝖴𝖯𝖫𝖮𝖠𝖣𝖤𝖣 ] 

[ 𝖯𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖲 𝖤𝖭𝖳𝖤𝖱 𝖳𝖮 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖱𝖳 ]

[ 𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍 ]

Sunghoon’s eyes fluttered open, wandering them to the glass sliding door leading out to his balcony. The morning sun shone brightly into his studio apartment. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed, dragging his feet across the floor towards the bathroom. Stretching out his arms and letting a small yawn leave his lips. 

He really didn’t want to go to work today.

—

thank you so much for everyone who has followed along with this series!! even tho it was short, I enjoyed every moment writing this and I hope everyone enjoyed reading it as well. thank you again for everyone’s undying support of my works!! much love!!!

intro | part one | part two

— perm. tlist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @jwnghyuns

@in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi

@eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty

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@vveebee @teddybeartaetae @kookify @abysofsteel @aileeeeeeeeeeeee

@hee-lvrr @1309zip @moon0fthenight

[misc-obeyme]

Sigh. Okay. Here's the Levi demon form smut. I don't think it turned out very good, but I'm tired of messing with it. And I spent time writing it, so I figure I might as well post it. I'm sorry, Levi, I swear I'll do you justice one day~

GN!MC x Leviathan

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: penetration (reader receiving), Levi being silly and blushy and anxious, demon form, tail stuff (I'm struggling with how to label this - the tail wraps around MC, MC sucks on the end of it, and it also stimulates MC but doesn't penetrate... okay that'll have to do I guess), sexy potion (briefly mentioned and Levi drank it lol), cockwarming, biting, man I hope that's it

Leviathan was already bright red. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, but the blush covering his face was so sweet. He was in his bathtub, back against several pillows and you in his lap. Two piles of clothes were on the floor nearby. He'd been nervous from the start, even though you had done this before. You tried to get him to relax, but it was clear that most of the things you did only made it worse.

You ran your hands over his chest as you pushed back against his erection.

You put your hand on his cheek. “Please, Levi?”

“M-MC!” he protested.

You had asked him if he would shift into demon form and the idea of it flustered him so bad he couldn’t look at you.

You kissed his warm cheeks. “I just wanna see you,” you said as you trailed your lips down his neck.

Levi shivered at the light touch, but he still couldn’t open his eyes.

You sighed and sat up a bit, so you could cup his face with both hands. You rubbed your thumbs across his skin. “Look at me, Levi.”

Obediently, Levi opened his eyes, but it was still difficult for him. He turned his face away, like he was trying to only see you in his periphery. You turned him back to face you.

"Whatever you think about yourself doesn't matter," you said. "I want to see all of you. You can do that for me, can't you?"

Something seemed to shine in Levi’s eyes. Not tears, but a confidence you knew he often didn't feel. And then he was in demon form, confirming that your words had boosted him enough to feel comfortable granting your request.

You watched as the complex horns emerged and the black and indigo coloring splayed across his neck and shoulder. You could feel the tail wrap around your waist. You shifted slightly so the scales rubbed gently across your skin.

You traced your fingertips across the pattern on his neck and the way he whined in response filled you with satisfaction. You leaned back down to press kisses along where your fingers had touched, enjoying the way he began to squirm beneath you.

You rolled your hips, grinding yourself down on his erection, making him cry out.

“A-ah!” Levi’s fingers were suddenly digging into your arms, a sensation you found you liked. His tail tightened around your waist. “MC! Please!”

You smirked and looked down at him. “Please what?”

But Levi couldn’t say it. You knew he would be too embarrassed to. He squeezed his eyes shut again, pressing his lips together and shaking his head.

You laughed a little because his reaction was so cute. You ran your hands through his hair, letting them slide gently up his horns, enjoying the way he shuddered in response. Then you kissed him, running your tongue along those tightly clamped lips in an attempt to get him to relax. It worked. He opened his mouth for you, letting out a little gasp as your tongue slipped inside.

Your kiss became sloppy fast, your hips occasionally rolling languidly downward. Every time you did this, the tail around your waist twitched and tightened just a little.

You pulled away to look down at him again and while his expression was a little more open, the anxiety was still clearly written there.

You pressed kisses across his face, pausing by his ear to whisper, “You’re safe with me. It’s okay to let go a little.”

It was like you had unlocked a secret level. Levi’s hands moved from your arms to your hips and he bucked up into you, letting out a whine that was so needy you couldn’t help but smile.

You rearranged yourself a bit, then sat snugly on his cock. You went slowly, inching down bit by bit so you could hear his noises.

As you went, Levi’s tail wrapped even more circles around you until the tip was brushing against your cheek. You smiled as it edged along your lips then opened your mouth to let it inside.

As soon as the tip of Levi’s tail was inside your mouth, you clamped your lips closed and sucked. You were rewarded by the sight of Levi’s eyes rolling back into his head as he moaned and bucked beneath you.

You steadied yourself with your hands on his chest as you moved your hips, setting a decent pace. Every time his cock was fully inside you, it sent spikes of pleasure through your gut. You moaned around his tail, but didn’t let it out of your mouth. Your tongue was too busy exploring the unusual feeling of his scales.

Levi was a mess beneath you, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you knew there’d be marks later. He couldn’t stop himself from meeting your movements and the lower part of his tail that was wrapped around you seemed to be moving you, too. You found you barely had to do any of the work yourself. You still maintained the pace and position, though, and Levi seemed to be content to let you.

Your heavy breathing filled the room along with the sound of skin smacking against skin and Levi’s soft whines. You decided you wanted to hear a little more, reaching out to pinch one of his nipples.

Levi cried out and you laughed softly around the tail in your mouth. Levi pulled his tail out as it squeezed around you even more. It was almost painful but not quite. You knew he didn’t even realize what he was doing and that made it all the more enjoyable.

“Sorry,” you said between heaving panting now that your mouth was free. “Did that hurt?”

Levi whined. “D-do it again-“

He didn’t have to ask twice. But you decided this time it would be more satisfactory to use your teeth. The tail around you slackened just a bit as you moved your body forward and bit down on the sensitive skin.

Levi was squirming hard beneath you now and you knew it was only a matter of time before he came. You increased your pace, letting your arms rest on his shoulders, pulling him into your body as you focused on your movement.

Everything around you tightened - Levi’s tail, his hands, even his eyes squeezing shut - as he came inside of you.

Levi cried out your name so beautifully as his tail went limp, falling into a heap around you.

Levi kept his eyes closed tight as your pace slackened. You were about to stop when you felt the tip of his tail, still wet from your mouth, finding its way between your legs, just barely touching your most sensitive spot.

It was so unexpected, you gasped.

Levi peeked at you, opening one eye just enough to register the look of surprise on your face. “D-don’t stop,” he said. And his hands gripped your hips hard again, keeping you moving.

“But-!” you protested. “How are you still-?”

The blush that alighted on Levi’s face made you smile. You were about to ask him how he was still hard after he came only seconds ago. There was something going on there, but you felt too good in that moment to pursue it further.

The tail between your legs seemed to have a mind of its own. It was only moments before you weren’t able to form full sentences anyway. You barely registered the look of adorable determination on Levi’s face before you felt that tightening in your gut.

You ended up leaving light scratch marks across his chest as you came, his tail continuing its ministrations as you rode out your orgasm.

You drew in some heavy breaths as you collapsed against Levi, letting your head settle in the crook of his neck. His arms moved to wrap around you, hugging you close to him, and his tail did the same, but not too tightly.

“You’re still hard,” you said, pressing light kisses to his neck.

Levi groaned. “Asmo gave me this potion…”

You laughed softly against his skin. “Oh, was it more potent than you thought it’d be?”

“D-don’t laugh, MC!” he said even as his grip on you tightened.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Do you want me to help you out?”

Levi was quiet for a long time before he finally said. “A-actually, if you could just… stay like this…”

You were more than content to stay in Levi’s arms and cockwarm him all night if that’s what he wanted. You both fell asleep soon enough, though it would take some time for the potion to fade.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[kisses4reid]

understand? pt. 2 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you’re a polyglot translator assigned to work for the bau in a cross-national case, and there’s an officer who’s less than friendly.

genre - angst, fluff, good ending, fem!reader, both of them are awkward nerds, they both dig each other’s intelligence

warnings - mild racism, basic cm file details, so many inaccuracies regarding translating, languages, and crimes, no where do i specify which language r is translating because i don’t want to include wrong translations, please let me know if i need to add anything

w/c - guys idk count the words yourself

a/n - part 2!! if i didn’t add you to the taglist i apologise pookie.

part 1 (must read first!)

Spencer called Morgan and you into a small interrogation room that was being used as a temporary evidence locker. Books and documents were strewn across the room, Spencer had one opened in his hands, one finger dragging down a page.

“What’s up, Reid?” Morgan asked, eyes scanning the messy room. You bent down and picked up a book that seemed to be a diary, and inside was the sole reason you had been assigned to work the case.

“The diaries kept by the mother are all in english, so I’ll go over these, the rest are in a foreign language that L/n can go over.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, “And me?”

“Oh, I was wondering if you could make me a coffee?”

Morgan scoffed and walked away.

You settled on the floor criss cross style, noticing the diaries had been organised in order of when they were written. At least 40 diaries had been filled, and you wondered how someone would have that much time to fill these out. Spencer watched you as you read the accounts written on the pages, but had to rip his eyes off of you once again if he wanted anything to be done.

His stack was much higher, that only becoming apparent to you after you took the courage to look at him.

“How are you going to read all of that?” You asked, cutting the silence like a knife. He looked around him and smiled slightly.

“I can read pretty fast,

“Oh, wow. That’s impressive. Are you a genius or something?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Oh.” You smiled tightly, grabbing the small notebook from your back pocket to start writing important details in english. He gulps, barely audible and squeezes his eyes in courage to talk again.

“Do you like reading?”

You lifted your head again and nodded, “I like sci-fi, maybe with some romance.”

He nodded and smiled, before clearing his throat and saying what he truly wanted to say this whole time, “I think you might have to keep distance from Sheriff Stevens.”

Your gaze flickered up at his brown eyes, swirls bringing you in like an optical illusion made for hypnotism. You shrugged and put on a reassuring smile, “It’ll be fine. He probably just didn’t expect me to be here, I’m not a part of your team so.”

“You’re a part of it now. At least for this case.” Spencer said softly, going back to dragging one finger down the scribbles in the book.

His words warmed your heart and your cheeks, causing you to look down after he did to hide the pink painted against your faded freckles. Suddenly, Agent Hotchner appeared in the doorway and cleared his throat - maybe he felt the same tension you did.

You stood up immediately, patting down your pantsuit trousers, Spencer’s eyes latched onto your hands.

“We need you both at the tip line immediately, they’ve called us.”

“They?” Spencer stands and follows Hotch out the room and into a smaller office with only a desk and phone in it, and that same sheriff from before.

You trail behind them, eyebrows furrowed before you realise the situation.

“The Unsubs. Y/n, we need you here to translate and scribe, I’ll be talking and if they end up speaking their first language,” Hotch pierced his gaze to yours, “you’ll be speaking.”

Your eyes widened, glancing between Spencer and Hotch, raising your hands in your own defence, “Oh, no. I don’t know how to- I don’t even know what to say-“

Hotch hovered a hand over your shoulder and nodded, “We’ll tell you what to say. All you need to do is what you do best, and listen.”

The sheriff lifted himself to where he was leaning on a wall and crossed his arms over his uniformed chest. He stared at you and then at Agent Hotchner. “This is who you’re trusting classified information with? Someone from the country we’re going against?”

Emily and Morgan entered the room then, closing the door, both of them nearly shivering at the sudden gloominess of the room - not that making contact with criminals was all sunshine and rainbows.

“Excuse me?” Hotch raises an eyebrow and puffs his chest out.

“I’m not from that country, sir, I simply understand the language.” You defend yourself as Spencer moves closer to you, shoulder to shoulder. Hotch moves away slightly, obviously thinking that was the end of that misunderstanding, but the sheriff speaks over any orders the SSA Chief.

“That’s what you want us to think. I saw how you scoped out the office, not to mention you look exactly like those people. How can we guarantee this girl doesn’t tell us lies? How can we guarantee she doesn’t tell them the truth?” His face was turning red and he had started moving towards you, before Spencer put out an arm in front of you and positioned you behind him.

“Agent L/n is a trained translator and has been for more years than you’ve been a sheriff. If you want any chance to find the kidnapped girls, you need to get over your ego. Maybe if you actually listened to her and let her do her job, you’d realise how stupid you are.”

The sheriff stood in shock, so did you. Your neck reddened and you took a step back, Spencer’s cologne overwhelming you. Morgan grabbed the man by the arm and forced him out of the room.

It was silent only for a second before Emily started, “Well, now that we’ve gotten him out of the way. Why don’t we take this call?”

They spoke english for a large portion of the call, but there were other people on their side who were speaking another language in the background that you got to work on translating. The call abruptly ended, and everyone’s shoulders slumped, the call was nearly useless. Hotch glanced at you and you took that as an invitation to begin reciting what they were saying.

As you went down the list of phrases, you paused and looked up to the BAU team.

“There’s a foreigner working with them.” Spencer furrowed his brows which caused you to explain quickly, “One of them had a strong english accent, and only chimed in a couple times. He was telling the caller what to say… I think.”

Hotch nodded and lead the team away from the room with the phone and into the room with the bulletin boards full of crime scene photos and maps. Spencer stood behind you slightly, and when your temporary boss started explaining the situation to the still-red sheriff, he turned your shoulder to face him. You searched his face confused before he spoke up,

“You should be more confident. Don’t say ‘I think’ at the end. You’re the only one who knows you’re right - plus me.”

You smiled and nodded. Spencer scanned the room, only to make eye contact with a smirk-faced Morgan.

Spencer conversed with Hotch after the sheriff went off to do who knows what, and Hotch agreed that he shouldn’t be left with you at any point in the case.

After 10 more hours of translating, driving, and analysing, the case had been closed and now you were back on the plane. The uncle of the girls had hired the kidnappers, wanting money from the parents that he felt was stolen from him when his parents died and his brother got most in the will.

This time, you took an empty seat at the back, not feeling like hovering for the full plane ride like last time. Your legs hurt, your social battery drained and your was energy at its lowest, and yet when Spencer took the seat in front of you, you felt a rush course through your body.

His cologne was back, and he held two books in his big hands. Tucking a short strand of hair behind his ear, he cleared his throat and smiled awkwardly,

“Hi, Y/n.” Your first name, not your last, and not Agent L/n. Your first name.

“Hi, Spencer.” His first name, not his last, and not Agent Reid. His first name.

He gulped, eyes darting from your face to the books on the table between you. “I brought you a book from my library I thought you’d like.”

Your eyes widened and you smiled, looking down at the blue covered book he held out. In your hands the book was still warm with his touch as you let your fingers trail the title and authors name.

“Well, I don’t actually know if you’ll like it. But you said you like sci-fi romance so- And I know you can speak that language so.” He rambled and you giggled smally, causing him to pause and stare at you in awe.

“Thank you, Spencer. This is actually the second language I ever learnt, I learnt it from my grandmother.” You told him, opening the book to a random page and smiling at the language printed on the off-yellow paper.

Spencer heart swelled, and it felt foreign. You had told him a piece of you, a tiny piece, but it felt like enough confirmation that you didn’t think he was weird, or too nerdy, or not outgoing enough.

“I’m glad.” He whispered, eyes scanning your face like it was the last time he would see you. It worried him slightly. “Do you want to um… go somewhere?”

“Like in general?” You titled your head.

He laughed slightly, “No, no. I mean like, with me?”

You cheeks reddened immediately and you unconsciously held a hand up to your face to hide your flustered expression. You took a breath and nodded, “Yes, I’ll go somewhere with you.”

perm taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es

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[the-froschamethyst4]

Spurs and Chaps

𖤐Pairing: Bounty Hunter! König x Outlaw! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, fluff, language, old friend to lovers, enemies to lovers, mention of violence, guns, P in V, age gap, groping, nipple play, badass Y/n, kissing/making out,

𖤐Summary: König the bounty hunter had to bring in outlaw Y/n but does he really have to bring her in?

————

————

"Little lady you must have me as a fool?"

"No, sir."

Y/n puts the tip of her heel into the dirt as she flirts with the man in front of her. She just wanted one thing from this man, his money.

"Oh yes!"

"Fuck," loud moans filled the room, the man trying to keep his pants up as he has Y/n pinned to the wall behind her, he bucks his hips up into her, she moans, gripping his hair and kissing his lips.

They both fell on the soft bed behind the man, Y/n undressing herself, her holster on her thigh containing her pistol, she kisses down his chest to his stomach, one hand guiding down and then other resting on her gun.

He looks down at her and sees her hand on her gun.

"Hey, wait a min-" before he could speak another word, he was shot with a lead bullet between his eyes.

"Fucking disgusting," she says, getting off the guy and grabbing her skirt and dirty tank top, she digs around for his sack of gold and soon found it, she smiles and sticks it inside her shirt. She finds her boots and her long black leather coat, she heads out of the whore house and grabs her hat on the way out.

"Another one bites the dust," she says, opening the satchel on her horse's side sticking the gold sack into with all the others. She starts to sum as she gets on the back of her horse. She clicks her tongue and starts walking out of the bum rusted town.

She was acting cool and collected as if she say didn't just kill someone and robbed them.

----------

"Heard she's in Rosewood...you might want to check there...König."

"Tell me again...who am I after?"

"Her name is Y/n L/n, her bounty the highest I've ever seen, even for a woman, $790,000, not even Bonnie's bounty was this high. Was raised by her father who turned out to be Good Old Cyrus L/n, robbed the whole North City blind, was caught and rotted away in prison. Y/n was taken to an orphanage where she raised herself to become an outlaw, it started off as candy stealing then soon made it's way up from pick pocketing, now, she kills then takes." The Sheriff says.

"Sir, her last slighting was in Rosewood, now she's being on the move," his deputy says.

"Well, then, I guess you better get moving, Bounty Hunter."

"I'll see you when I have her."

"If we see you again," the Sheriff says.

König loaded up his horse, clicked his tongue and went South to Rosewood hoping he'll run into Y/n.

---------

It's been a few days, and Y/n has settled into a small town called Winslow, it was like her little hideaway, everyone knows who she is, but no one will ever give her away to the Sheriff and his Deputies.

Y/n sits on the back porch of her little home, she was in some jean shorts, and small white tank top that showed off her hardened nipples and her black boots.

Y/n was cleaning her old clothes she worn, she goes back into her lovely home and she grabs some whiskey from her top cabinet and opened the bottle, chugging some of it. Heading back outside to hang the rest of the clothes.

"Y/n..." She stops what she is doing and turns to see.

"König? How's the Bounty Hunting going?" She asked, knowing he's after her.

"Oh you know...I'm here for a little someone," he says.

"Me?" She says, her back turned to him.

"It's been a while, I just wanted to...catch up with you before, I take you to the Sheriff."

"How? Hmm? What could you have in mind, Bounty Hunter," she giggles at him, she stood up to face him, he looks down at her getting a view of her chest.

"You're a tease, just like I remember," he says, putting his hand on her cheek.

König and Y/n were old friends, even though they grew up differently, Y/n was taught to steal and be a bad person and König was taught to be a good guy. Growing up differently but still how became friends. They don't even know how it happened, and when they got older König picked up being a bounty hunter and Y/n was on the run from law enforcement.

Now did König and Y/n have some sort of relationship? Yes. Again they don't know how it happened, it was just a simple one night that turned into 3, then 4, next they they knew it 5, but it had to stop, it would look bad for a bounty hunter to be sleeping with a bounty.

It would ruin König's reputation.

"Did you take the job because of the money or to see me, again?" She asked him.

"I guess the money...I didn't know I was going after you till I was called in to help."

"Called in? You mean, you didn't see my WANTED paper? The Sheriff called you in?"

"Yeah. He asked for...the best of the best," he says.

"I see," she says, she walks past him, her hand sliding on his chest as she was heading inside. "If you want...you can come inside, König."

he smirks and follows her inside the house. She kicked her boots off at the back door.

"Take your shoes off, I don't want dirt tracked through my house."

"Since when did you ever care about the dirt?"

"Since I've lived here, I love my home, and want it clean and nice and neat," she says.

"But you kill for fun."

"And I can keep my personal life out of my work life."

"Killing is work?"

"Yep," she then turns to him. "Tea?"

"Water is fine," he says.

Y/n gave him some water and then watched him chug it, she smirks up at him, she bends down and kisses his chest down to his stomach, lifting his shirt and kissed his toned stomach.

"Liebe (love)."

"Do you think, I'll ruin your reputation?" she asks, looking up at him, he cups her chin.

"You know you will," he says.

"Good," she says, standing up and kissing his lips. She then pulls down his mask, "There's that face, I've missed...I could ruin you so easily," she teased.

"You ruining me? Doubt it," he chuckles.

König picks her up and slams her back to her wall, her legs wrapped around his waist, she then kisses his neck, he groans, he plops on her messy couch.

König then removes his jacket, and removes his shirt, he then tries to unbuckle his pants, but Y/n ends up helping him. Pulling his pants down and taking them off him, she kisses his bulge, he groans, cupping her chin.

"Fuck, I missed you," he says, leaning down kissing her temple, she moves back to laying on top of him.

"I've missed you too," she says, kissing his lips.

His hands roamed over her body. She then sits up and starts removing her clothes, König then helps her removing her tank top and kissed between her breasts. Kissing her breast and licking at her bud.

She moans, holding his head and playing with his hair, and kissing the top of his head. König then messes with her shorts pulling them off.

König pumps himself a few times, before sliding himself into her. She put her head back moaning his name and squeezing around him, he puts his hands on her waist, she starts rocking back and forth, König smirks, the sex was nice, and soft. It's suppose to be meaningless sex, but it's hard when König still loves Y/n.

Y/n looks down him, leaning over him, moving her hair on one side of head and then kissing his lips. She then starts moving a bit faster.

"No, no, keep going slow, take your time, don't rush anything," he says.

"It's just been so long."

"I know," he cups her face and starts kissing her face, then under her chin and then her lips again.

Y/n looks down at him, he slowly starts to sit up, holding her close to his body, as he bucks his hips up but she started to do the work again, bouncing up and down on him.

"God, you feel so good," König says. He loves feeling her gummy walls holding his cock inside of her.

"You do too," she moans, putting her head back. His hands then start going up her chest and squeezing her chest and playing with her nipples. She moans and looks at him.

"Are you g-going to turn me in?" She asked.

"Do you want me to turn you in?"

"No...I want you to myself, I don't want to be in jail," she moans.

"Aww~" he teases her.

Y/n then could feel herself about to cum, König smirks as cum shoots up into Y/n. Y/n smirks and then bounces a bit more and felt herself squirt on his lower stomach.

He smirks, chuckles a bit, Y/n then leans forward and then kissed his lips.

----------

König laid naked on Y/n's bed, Y/n next to him, he could turn her in so easily, but he can't do that to her. König looks over at her and moves her hair from her face.

"You can go if you want to," she says.

"No...not yet...I want to be here with you," he says.

"You can leave."

"No, not yet," he says, moving closer to her and holding her to his chest.

König kisses her forehead and kissed her lips, he holds her close and moves her hair from her face.

-----------

König was on his horse, looking at the house being light up by small lamps, he was leaving for the night, he doesn't know if he'll come back and see her again, but he wonders if he should put a small hold on bounty hunting and come live with Y/n for a little while.

He travels back to West Dale to see the Sheriff and tell him the news.

That he could not find Y/n.

Y/n woke up to no one next to her, she pats the cold empty spot next to her and thought about König, he's been gone for...so many years and now he came back to have sex with her and left, he didn't bring her in, so did he care about her?

----------

It's been weeks now. Y/n was on her front porch, she was doing some house work, putting up nice plants, around the house.

"Need any help?" Y/n stops and turns to the man's voice.

"König?"

"Have you done any killing lately?" He chuckles.

"Never," she teased.

"Could you help me with the other hanging plants?"

"Sure, liebe (love)."

[604to647]

Strawberry Shortcake (part 1 of 2)

4K / Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Summary: You thought working as a cocktail waitress at a strip club would just be a way to make some easy money - you didn't expect to meet him.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Private room shenanigans, longing, ref to f!masturbation, nicknames as always, reader is a single parent (mentioned briefly in the this part), TF boys make a quick appearance!

A/N: In this part, reader only knows Frankie as "Francisco", but for the purpose of the narrative, I refer to him as Frankie most of the time. This came out of nowhere and I wrote it in one day instead of editing the next chapter of SwY 🫣 procrastination fics are a thing, right? Barely proofread, please excuse all my mistakes!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics as always 🥰 The moodboard Frankie pic is from Pinterest but after a wee bit of sleuthing, I believe it’s a screen grab from this gifset by @uuuhshiny - please correct me if I’m wrong!! 😊

Swaying seductively to the club’s upbeat remix of an old school RnB song you’ve always loved, you hit each bass beat with a little pop of your hip so that you lightly knock your knees into the widespread thighs of the man whose legs you’re dancing in between.  The combined movement lends a little bounce to your naked tits, and as you raise your arms above your head and continue to move to the music, you have to bite your lower lip to prevent from smiling and chuckling.  Even with your eyes closed, you know the man’s large, calloused hands, ever respectful of the private room’s ‘No Touching’ rule, are spread, straining with superhuman restraint and digging into those same meaty thighs that you keep rubbing against.  You might be doing it on purpose.  Afterall, the rule is that he can’t touch, but you can.

Trailing your fingers down through your hair, then down, down along your face and neck until you reach your chest, your hands grab and grope your breasts the way you know the man before you wishes he could.  Letting yourself pretend that your desperate touches are his, you let out a little whimper that’s meant to try his resolve.  As you bend your knees while rolling your hips, the lascivious show you’re putting on is lowered to his eye level, and you continue to palm your tits, rolling and pinching your nipples between your fingers – pretty peaks hardening as the fan of his heavier than usual breath hits them just right.  You know you’re being terribly teasing and unfair, but here in this dimly lit room, wearing nothing but a pair of black lace panties, you’ve never felt safer.  Or sexier.  And it’s all because of this man.

Francisco.

Never one to break the private room’s cardinal rule, or even cop a feel while out on the main floor, this man is nothing but respectful.  And that makes you wish even more that he would just break – break all the rules and have his way with you.  Touch you.  Grab you.  Manhandle you to his liking and take you right on the faux velvet couch that lines the wall behind him.  With a low and wide swivel of your hips, you ghost over the growing bulge of his jeans and you hear him groan - a deep guttural sound from the back of his throat, and this time you don’t fight the smile that spreads across your face.

Francisco.

He’s probably been your favourite part of working as a club cocktail waitress these past few months.  You have a job as a research assistant that you love, but earlier this Spring, a small accident in the lab led to a temporary closure that had you looking for short-term work – you needed something where the hiring process wasn’t drawn out and that you could quit when the lab reopened without any negative consequences to your career - the waitress opening at The Midnight Palace had fit the bill.  The money was good and the work wasn’t arduous; it wasn’t as if you were one of the onstage dancers who had to perform some of the most incredible feats of acrobatics you’ve ever seen.  Even the later hours turned out to be a blessing, allowing you to spend your now free days with your son, a welcomed opportunity to fill his carefree summer days with activities and play before he started kindergarten in the Fall.  The girls, dancers and waitresses alike were incredibly friendly and welcoming, many of them single moms themselves.  All in all, you think you might even miss the club when the newly renovated lab reopened.  And still, even with all your unexpected fondness for this job, the thing you unequivocally look forward to most when coming in to work is Francisco Morales.

Every two weeks without fail he came in with a group of army buddies on Friday night.  The first time you encountered them had been your second week at the club, amused at how the other girls had been excited for their arrival; the group was known for being fun loving and rowdy, but never disruptive or disrespectful.  And generous - very generous.  As a waitress, your dress code was lingerie of your choice - not any more or less skimpy than what the dancers wore on stage or when they came to the floor for lap dances, but it could invite the occasional butt slap or waist grab from some of the bolder club patrons.  But never Francisco’s group – you served them drink after drink after drink, and they were only ever sweet and charming, nothing more than a polite touch as thanks, and generous with their words of praise and tips to every one of their servers and dancers.  You come to learn that they usually end their evenings with a round or two in the private rooms, sometimes one-on-one, other times as a group.  On that first night, you served the drinks in a private room that the group commandeered with three gorgeous dancers - all giggling and having the time of their lives.  As you put down their drinks, the dark-haired man that you come to think of as the group’s leader, smiled at you with his piercing hooded eyes and laughing, “Hey hunny, why don’t you stay?  We’ll pay for your time and you can keep Fish company.”  He tilted his head back to indicate to his friend who sat a bit further back from the group in a chair, leaning back comfortably, arms crossed, with no stripper to call his own.

You had smiled politely, not sure of your answer even though Tiffany had nodded encouragingly at you; most patrons didn’t know, but any girl could be invited to a private room – not just the dancers.  It was rare for a waitress to spend time in a private room – while there was no obligation, there was some expectation to strip and most waitresses didn’t; when you took the job, you didn’t have any intention of spending any one-on-one time in the private rooms, despite the rate and the tips being quite good. 

As you approach the odd man out to serve him his drink, he gives you an almost bashful shake of his head, as if to say ‘You don’t have to’ – you’re not sure what it is, maybe it was his almost boyishly shy smile, or the glimpse of those soft brown curls you caught when he lifted his cap to nervously run his hands through his hair, but on a whim, you decide to stay.  Afterall, it’s not as if you were alone – there were six other people in the room with you.

Putting his drink down, you slide into the handsome stranger’s lap, perching your scantily clad bum on his thick thigh, you blink bright-eyed and throw him a cheeky grin, “So… you’re a Fish?”  The wholesome chuckle and crinkle of his captivating eyes that follow your question warm your chest more than they should and that’s how you meet Francisco Morales. 

That first night, Frankie spends the remainder of the time that Santi pays for with you in his lap, arm thrown around his neck to keep from slipping off, just talking about nothing and everything.  You learn that the men are old army buddies: Santiago (call sign: Pope), Will (call sign: Ironhead), Ben (no call sign, just Benny because he’s the baby of the group) and of course Francisco, call sign: Catfish.   You giggled at this and Frankie thinks the sound is more than adorable.  You get a chance to run your fingers through the curls at the base of his neck and find them to be as soft as you thought they’d be.  Ultimately, you find yourself spending an inordinate amount of time staring into his warm brown eyes as Frankie tells you about himself and his work as a helicopter pilot and mechanic.  When the little melodic bell chimes to indicate that the private room times are almost up, you can’t believe how fast the time has gone - you leave Francisco with a light kiss on the cheek and thank him for giving your tired feet a rest.

Two weeks later he returns and asks for a private room slot with just you.  And again, two weeks after that.  And again, and again – now a regular occurrence for the past few months, every time the boys came in to the club.  Your time in the private room with Francisco is comfortable, fun, flirty, and always, always safe.  A man of honour, he never touches you - his hands stay by his sides, on the table or on his own body, but never yours.  With time, you give yourself permission to be bold, growing more and more unrestrained with your touches. 

Taking off his cap, you’ll card your hands through his hair and lightly massage Frankie’s scalp – the first time you did this, you earned a soft ‘Baby’ from his plush lips that had your face feeling hotter than hot.  It fills you with something akin to pride and possessiveness that you know those same lips are pillow soft - you’ve run your fingers over them a hundred times, just as you have his cheekbones and jaw line, tracing over every firm line of his handsome face with featherlight strokes.  Nothing compares to feeling of his cheeks cupped in your soft hands as you scratch his patchy scruff, except maybe the swell of your chest when this affectionate gesture secures you another nickname, hermosa. 

But by far, your favourite nickname comes during your third time together.  Having looped both your arms around Frankie’s neck after making him laugh with a funny observation about a TV show you both watch, he closes his eyes once his laughter subsides and murmurs, “You smell like strawberries.”  Giggling, you confess that it’s the glitter gel you borrow from one of the dancers; you were still too new to the club scene to have any of your own body glitter, but you liked the smell of this one so you kept borrowing it and Sasha didn’t seem to mind. 

“Smells good, baby,” Frankie declares, “That’s my favourite dessert, you know?  And you’re just as sweet, Shortcake.”  Shortcake.  The petname had stuck and made you feel giddy every time the endearment slipped from his lips.  You don’t tell him that when you have to buy body wash the following week, you choose a strawberry scented one on purpose.

Sometimes your time with Frankie feels almost like taking an unsanctioned break – some misguided concept of proper work ethic finds you volunteering to dance for him even though it’s not in your job description; to both your delight, you discover you actually enjoy it, greedily drinking in Frankie’s lustful gaze as his eyes follow every dip of your waist and sway of your hips.  More recently, you’ve progressed to massaging his tense shoulders and back when he tells you about his rough days at work; as you push and pull at the corded muscles under his shirt, the deep rumbling groan that drops from his chest shoots straight between your legs and you can’t help but salivate at the idea of making him feel good in other ways.

But most of the time, you simply sit in Frankie’s lap, the two of you chatting and getting to know each other as if you were just two people that met under totally normal circumstances and found the other to be attractive.  You learn that he’s kind and giving, and he makes you laugh so very easily – some nights your face hurts a little from smiling so much, content to just listen to Frankie talk while absentmindedly rubbing his large, paw of a hand with your much smaller ones.

You think about his laugh and the way his entire chest shakes with it all the time.  On the nights between his visits to the club, you go home and think about his soulful eyes and the way they can flicker from a soft puppy dog look to a darkened, gripping expression of want with just a single touch from you.  After the nights you spend with him, he stars in all of your bedtime fantasies and you come to his imagined touch, hard and desperate with his name curling over your lips.  You wonder what it would be like to wake up next to him.  If he would smile at you in the morning daylight the way he does when you kiss his cheek goodbye in the dark private room, all soft and almost disbelieving.  You wonder if he ever thinks about you at all outside of your nights together at the club.  You try not to let yourself get too lost in your longing for what might never be, but as the summer goes on, you start to ache for him, missing the little you have of him every day between your rendezvous.

Sadly, as much you cherish the time with Francisco in your little bubble within the safety of the club’s private room, you know it’s a fantasy that can’t last.  While Frankie knows you have a separate career outside of the club, he doesn’t know that your time together is nearly up.  The original timeline for the lab to be ready was end of summer, but an email you received last week indicated that the renovations were ahead of schedule and all lab and research staff could expect to return to work soon, though the exact date was yet to be fixed.  You don’t say anything to him - unwilling to spoil the mood of your limited remaining time together, and moreover, unwilling to broach the topic of what this is and if it could be anything else.  Anything more. 

Afraid, really, of what Francisco’s answer may be.

You have a feeling that your call back to work will come any day now, and that’s how you find yourself in the position you’re in now: topless and gyrating, cunt positively dripping while you touch your breasts salaciously for Francisco’s enjoyment.  Earlier tonight, when he had you sitting on his lap like that first time, the two of you drowning in the other’s eyes and longing looks, you had realized just how much you were going to miss him when you left.  The thought that this might be the last time you’re able have Frankie like this - all to yourself, able to soak in his adoring gaze while drawing a deep sigh of contentment from his chest as you study the strong features of his face, makes you bold and brave.  You rise and stand in between his legs, tilting his face up with your fingers so he looks at you while you reach behind and start to unclasp your bra.

“Hermosa, you don’t have t-” Frankie starts to protest, not sure where this might be coming from.  He’s been perfectly happy with how the two of you have been spending your private room time together.  In no way has Frankie ever wanted you to feel like he was pushing for more than you were giving him.  He won’t pretend that he doesn’t dream about your soft curves and the way your gorgeous figure nearly spills from the drool worthy lingerie you always wear; his nights alone in bed are spent imagining how you might feel writhing underneath him, what sounds he could pull from you while he explores your body – he’s willing to bet you taste sweeter than the strawberry scent that always seems to linger on his skin after he visits you.  But here in this room, it’s only the pleasure of your company and the opportunity to make you laugh and smile that he will ask from you.

Pressing a finger to his lips, you assure him, “Shhhhhh, Francisco.  I want to.  You’ve been so good to me these last few months.  I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the way you make me feel so special – it’s been a long time since anyone has made me feel this way.”

“Baby, I want to make you feel special everyday,” breathes Frankie.

You sigh, “And you’re so respectful.  I appreciate it so much, baby.  Please. Let me show you how much I appreciate you.”  Letting your lacy black bra fall to the ground, you watch as Frankie’s pupils dilate until his eyes turn jet black with want, jaw dropping.

“Holy fuck, Shortcake,” Frankie practically growls, “you’re even more gorgeous than I imagined.”  His unblinking gaze lingering over your pert and bouncy curves, bare and presented for him – a sight he didn’t even dare allow himself to dream.

Cocking your head to the side, you can’t help but feel your heart burst at his admission, “You think about me, Francisco?”

“All the time, baby,” there’s no use playing coy with you, not when you’re so perfect and vulnerable before him.  Frankie manages to tear his eyes away from your nearly nude body only to be met with what he thinks is the most beautiful sight on Earth, you smiling at him sweetly, radiating pure happiness.  Did he do that?  Did he make you happy?  He can’t help but feel a burst of pride - he wants to do it again and again.

Almost shyly, you tease, “Would you let me dance for you?”

Finding himself at a loss for words, Frankie can only assent with a quick nod before he watches, mesmerized, as you start to sway you body to the beat of the music pouring in from outside the private room; every line and dip of your figure moves rhythmically as if to hypnotize him.  Frankie doesn’t know how long you dance, but every brush of your legs against his causes his dick to twitch and he has to bite down on his bottom lip to stop himself from moaning.  When you move your hands to cup those perfect breasts of yours, he stares as you fondle and play with your nipples and thinks he might actually rip holes in his jeans with how hard he’s digging his fingers into his legs.  He’s painfully hard and he wants to touch you so bad.  But, of course he won’t.  You trust him not to cross that line, and he would never want you to feel anything but perfectly safe with him.

When you finally open your eyes, you see Frankie gazing at you - eyes glued to your face with an almost pained look of reverence, devotion etched into the handsome features of his face and it makes your heart sing.  “Francisco,” you tut playfully, “I finally get half naked for you, and you’re looking at my face?”

“Prettiest view in the room, Shortcake.”

“Oh, baby,” you purr, and then as if taking off your top for him wasn’t bold enough, you close the little distance left between your bodies and kiss him.  Soft and tentative at first, but when you feel Frankie’s mouth chase yours for more, the kiss quickly becomes needy, hungry.  Frankie’s hands remain on his legs, so you touch him for the both of you – running your hands through his soft hair, you cradle his head in your palms and tip his face to yours, pulling him up so you can press your lips more greedily to his.  Frankie’s tongue finds yours and he matches its every brush and stroke with equal fervour; as he map the inside of your mouth, the needy groans that vibrate from the back of your throat make his teeth rattle and his heart soar.  You gasp for air, but don’t take in enough because you can’t bear to be parted from his perfect, plush mouth – trading air for the dizziness that comes with the way Frankie devours you.  You kiss him like it’s everything you’ve been wanting to do for the last few months because it is; you kiss him like it’s the last time because it might be.

You break apart to the chime of the bell that warns the private rooms that their sessions are almost over.  Arms still around Frankie’s neck, you’re flattened against him – your knees pressed against his groin where you can feel his hard cock straining against his pants, your now heaving breasts tucked right beneath his chin, but he only has eyes for your face – the two of you grinning like lovestruck fools, though Frankie swears your eyes look a little sad.

“Time’s almost up, Francisco,” you whisper.  Backing away, you grab your bra from where it fell earlier and thread your arms through the straps.  Turning, you hold the cups to your chest and throw over your shoulder, “Do you mind?”

Wordlessly, Frankie expertly hooks your bra closed; when the backs of his thick fingers brush against your skin to buffer the snap of the band, that iota of contact sends an electrical current straight to your throbbing core.  And just when you think that’s all you’ll ever have of Francisco’s touch, you feel it: a soft, tender kiss to your lower back.  It’s so sweet you have to choke back a sob. 

Leaving him at the curtain to the room, you kiss his cheek lightly as you always do.

“See you next time, Shortcake.”

“Goodnight, Francisco.”

As if you were clairvoyant, the call from your old job comes the following Wednesday, and by that Friday you’ve worked your last shift at The Midnight Palace.  Saying goodbye to your co-workers, you know you’ll genuinely miss them and truly hope to keep in touch.

You wrestle briefly with leaving Francisco a message, but the truth is, you don’t know what you’d say or what you’d be asking for.  What you shared in the private room had seemed so precious and real, but was it really?  Could it ever survive in the real world?  The real world of kids, and long work days, and mundane chores?  If the magic of your time together with Frankie was marred by reality or if he never even responded, your fantasy of him would be shattered and then you wouldn’t even have the memory of him.  So, selfishly and somewhat cowardly, you opt to keep your little fantasy of Francisco for yourself and your lonely nights, and you leave knowing that in a week’s time he’ll show up and find you gone. 

The return to work is unremarkable and your schedule quickly normalizes to what it was before the lab incident; you’re happy to see your team again and easily delve back into the work you enjoy.  The remainder of the summer passes quickly, and before you know it, the first day of kindergarten is upon you.

Walking hand in hand with your son, you can’t help shedding a few tears seeing your child take this monumental step.  He’s nervous, but is taking a lot of big kid pride in being brave like you talked about.  After helping him find his cubby and putting his backpack away, you step into the hallway to say your last goodbyes as the teacher has instructed.

Burying his face in your neck, your son murmurs, “I love you, mama,” before striding confidently back into the classroom, waving back to your tearful, “I love you, Ray-ray! See you after school!”

Behind you, you hear the sniffles of a young girl who is having a little more difficulty separating from her parent; the low rumble of her father whispering words of reassurance and love transition to a louder and clear, “I’m proud of you, mija!” as the little girl walks tentatively towards the open door of the classroom.

That voice.  That calm, deep baritone is oddly familiar to you but you can’t quite place it.  You might puzzle over it a little if it wasn’t for your son reaching out his hand to the little girl at that moment and saying, “Hi!  I’m Raynor!  I’m in your class!” and the little girl smiling back wide, “Hi Raynor!  I’m Valentina!” before they walk hand-in-hand towards their new teacher.

Proud of your son and slightly relieved that he might have just made his first friend, you turn around to beam at the father of the little girl. 

You can only imagine the look of brief recognition quickly giving way to shock that the tall, good-looking man gives you, mirrors your own.  How was this possible?

Francisco.

Part 2 will be coming!

[whxtedreams]

A Winter's Morning

Jackson!Joel oneshot

Summary: A cozy winter morning with Joel in Jackson.

Word Count: 1.3k

Tags: Just fluff, forehead kisses, mention of readers hair, mentions of soft skin, joel has chest hair, tommy being tommy.

Main masterlist

There were various signs that winter had arrived. The frost and light snow that had covered the blades of grass in the mornings, the chill of the ice-cold bathroom tiles, the numbness that crept into his nose while standing outside on patrol with Tommy, each subtle reminder that nature's icy grip had firmly taken hold of their world.

Yet, it was the way you unconsciously gravitated closer to him in the shared bed during the cold early hours of the morning that truly confirmed winter's arrival. Each morning this week, you crept ever nearer to his side, wrapping your body around his own in search of warmth. By Friday, you were practically on top of him, your need for heat drawing you closer in a silent embrace.

But Joel doesn't mind at all, in fact. He relishes the way your head tucks snuggly under his chin, your hand grasping for his side, trying to draw him even closer in your sleep. Your body rises and falls with each of his breaths, as you lie sprawled out on top of him, your leg wrapped around his hips. He wonders silently how you can sleep like that without waking with cramped, aching muscles.

There were rare moments when he had woken up first, seeking the warmth of your body before you stirred. On those occasions, he found himself twisted and contorted, his back bent awkwardly and his face mashed against your neck. He had complained about his back and neck for two days after.

And so, on this morning, as he wakes to find your body snuggled against his own, he hopes you won't wake up complaining of aching muscles. He silently wishes to remain in this embrace forever, to never know where his body ends and yours begins. He longs to pull you even closer, to the point of almost suffocation, since he still feels you're never close enough.

His arm has gone numb, the blood flow interrupted by the weight of your shoulder resting on it, but he doesn't mind. He focuses intently to move his hand to your head, gently weaving his fingers in your hair. He relishes the soft sigh that escapes you in your sleep each time he plays with your hair, a sound he never tires of hearing.

As his hand threads through your hair, your body responds by pressing even closer against him. A shiver runs through you, causing you to hold onto him tighter. He follows your movements, pulling the covers up to cover your bodies more completely, effectively cocooning the both of you within the warmth of the blankets.

It’s too cold.

You murmur something indistinct in your sleep, your heel digging into his hip, and he can’t help but smile at your subconscious pursuit of warmth. He thinks to himself that he could stay in this moment forever—holding you close, feeling your body pressed against his, enveloped in a soothing bubble of comfort.

Your head shifts, and your eyes slowly flutter open. A drowsy smile spreads across your face as you meet his gaze. “Mornin’ baby,” Joel mutters in a voice still thick with sleep.

You hum as you nestle against him, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “It’s cold,” you murmur, your breath against his skin sending pleasant tingles down his spine. He chuckles softly at the sensation, continuing to play with your hair as you burrow against him.

Joel plants a tender kiss on the top of your head, then draws you closer to his neck. “I wish I could stay in bed with you all day,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, his voice still rough with sleep.

“Then stay,” you murmur into his skin, your hand coming to a rest over his heart and caressing the hair on his chest. Your hand remains still and he focuses on the feeling of your palm rising and falling gently in time with his steady breaths.

Joel's fingers trail down from your hair, gently tracing the curve of your back. He marvels at the softness of your skin under his touch. “You know I would if I could,” he whispers, his breath mingling with the strands of your hair.

“You could tell Tommy you’re sick.” You offer and he huffs a laugh.

“We both know he wont fall for that.” Joel sighs with a touch of resignation, knowing his brother well enough to know that he wouldn't buy the sick excuse. The thought of tromping through the snowy woods on a patrol shift with his brother leaves a pang of disappointment in his chest. He closes his eyes momentarily, trying to savor the last moments of warmth in the bed with you.

You groan as the sound of the front door opening downstairs reaches your ears, Tommy's voice announcing his arrival. The warm and peaceful moment you were both wrapped up in is abruptly interrupted, bringing a sense of disappointment at the thought of leaving the comfort of the bed.

A small smile tugs at Joel's lips as you burrow deeper beneath the covers. "Maybe if we hide under the blankets he won't think we're here," you mutter with a frown.

“You better not still be in bed!” Tommy's voice thunders from downstairs, effectively jolting both you and Joel from the cocoon of warmth that had enveloped you. Joel lets out a resigned sigh, reluctantly pulling the covers down to his chest, visibly wincing as the cold air makes contact with his skin.

Joel yells down to his brother, letting him know he'll be down shortly. He then turns to you, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. "How about a movie night tonight?" Joel proposes. "I'll light a fire, and we'll bring all the blankets and pillows down?" he suggests, finally coaxing a smile from you with the thought of a cozy evening.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you agree, your fingers gently tracing lazy patterns on the hair on his chest. The simple touch seems to soothe the tension caused by Tommy’s intrusion, and the promise of a cozy night in front of a crackling fire with you in his arms sounds more appealing than ever.

Joel heaves a deep sigh as he sits up, causing you to grumble at the sudden absence of his warmth as he untangles you from his body. He moves his legs over the side of the bed, and without hesitation, you hurry to wrap yourself back into the cozy embrace of the blankets.

He lets out a small chuckle at the sight of your frowning face, and he leans back towards you to give the blankets an extra tuck. "You gotta get up soon too," he teases, his eyebrow raised in playful challenge. "I wouldn't get too comfy if I were you."

You respond with a grumble, turning away from him and burying yourself further into the blankets, a pout etched on your face. He can't help but smile at your adorably stubborn demeanor, wishing he could stay in bed with you forever. Reluctantly, he finally rises from the bed, his hand slipping from your shoulder before he begins to dress himself.

Joel stands in the doorway, casting one last lingering look at you, his gaze softened by the gentle, warm glow of the beginning of the sunrise filtering in through the curtains. Then, he opens the door and finds Tommy waiting outside, casually leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a knowing smile on his face.

"Took you long enough," Tommy smirks, his eyes glinting with playful amusement. Joel huffs in response, rolling his eyes before walking past him and making his way down the stairs.

The only thing that drives Joel through the day, enduring the freezing cold temperatures outside, is the thought of returning home to the warmth of your embrace. The thought of feeling your body pressed against his once more, chasing away the chill that has settled deep within his bones, keeps him going that day.

notes:

Winter is in full force in Australia. I am so cold all the time. Also lowkey dreamt this and wrote it, so this is a fic from my dreams lol.

[sjyfave]

Love your recent Jake fic definitely was wondering if your are gonna possibly write a part 2 where Jake and y/n actually have sex or any like Jake’s first time with a black girl! As a blk girl I was so amazed 😩💕

blue skies, white sheets.

pairings! 𓍯 friends by association jake x female reader

genre! 𓍯 smut (18+ only)

wc! 𓍯 2-3k (?) lol

warning! black coded female reader, porn with good enough plot, protected car sex and grinding, jake is a LITTLE submissive (he begs just a lil bit), very light worship (from jake)

this is a continuation from following your lead. you don’t have to read it first to read this, but if you want to, that’s where it is.

oh i love when blackgenes finally find me for their fics 🥹 and this has nothing to do with blue skies or sheets it’s just a cute title to me

“honestly jake,”

jake ran both his hands through his hair, his stance relaxed as he sunk into the couch. heeseung sat beside him in an alike stance, their legs comfortably sprawled out. both of heeseungs bare feet touched the floor—jake’s right leg bent onto the couch. jake sat with his socked right foot under his left thigh giving him height.

jake had finally given heeseung the run-down of everything that had happened a few nights before, catching the time to talk through their busy work schedules.

heeseung was clad in a thin black hoodie and sweatpants outfit, jake in a simple graphic tee and baggy jean shorts. their other roommate was out with their girlfriend, leaving the two boys to speak freely in the living room without being worried it would all travel to her ears.

heeseung uses his right hand to pull his hood forward better, his bangs lightly brushing his eyelids. “if she’s willing to spread eagle for you on a discord call—“ jake laughs, his head dipping. he shakes his head lightly, trying not to think too hard about it. “then she clearly wants something out of it too.” heeseung finishes, his right and left arm crossing over his body as he wiggles into the couch better.

“i know,” jake begins, lifting his head up. “i think i’d actually do anything to keep talking to her. i really like her, lee.” jake exclaims, his hands expressing his emotion.

“a bitch rub her clit for you once and you’re hooked.” heeseung teases, sitting up in his seat to glance to the left at their kitchen. “it’s more than that.” jake immediately defends, his eyes following heeseungs. his friend pays him no mind, lightly looking around the room as he tries to remember if he bought more snacks the last trip they took to walmart.

“are you forgetting im constantly talking to this girl? i mean, i used to leave my camera on twenty four seven, seven days a week.” jake explains as heeseung hoists himself off the couch with a grunt.

“i know, that’s why she caught you beating your meat.” he answers snarkly, jake huffing out a little laugh as he watches heeseung walk to the kitchen, his right hand reaching up for a far right upper cabinet. heeseung whips it open to pull down a poorly clipped bag of chips, turning to face jake again as he walks back.

“joking aside, i know you like her, and i think it’s important you express that to her sooner than later.”

heeseungs right hand pulls the clip off a large bag of chips so he can stuff his hand in. “the longer you wait to talk to her—“

he stuffs a small handful into his mouth.

“—the more she’s going to regret her decision of doing shit with you.” he finishes as he stands lose, holding the bag towards jake to offer some. jake reaches in, his left hand ruffing the bag as he grabs a handful.

“i know, you’re right.”

• • •

you weren’t embarrassed of what you two did those few nights ago, but the silence was deafening.

for the first time in months since you met jake, he hadn’t messaged you or even left his camera on . he seemed into it when it happened—his top front teeth digging into the plush of his bottom lip as he watched you even after finishing. when you finally moaned that final time, he hilariously moved himself upwards as if the camera would follow his eyes to see more.

but he had stopped all contact after you left the call that day, and it was starting to worry you. worry you that everything had only built up to this, or that he purposely left his camera on for months—just wanting for the right moment where being sexual in front of you would be appropriate.

maybe it was a little kink of his, being caught by someone after he exposes himself, shamelessly moaning your name with his camera and mic on.

you decided to yourself you’d move on, still wearing a white t-shirt and pyjama shorts late in the afternoon. you walked through your bedroom, laptop in your left as you placed it on your desk. you hadn’t sat at your desk since the discord call, feeling so much shame you hid your vibrator in your closet to keep it out of sight. you promised yourself that you’d never masturbate again after that night and you didn’t want any reminders.

you told your closest girl friend about the interaction you had with jake—and she scolded you about it. regardless of it being rightfully expressed, you still felt a little hurt about it, ending the conversation early with an abrupt room leave.

you wanted to just message jake first, noting how he had been active recently, still not sending a message your way,

he use to keep tabs on you so often.

he would ask you about things men usually didn’t care about, like your favourite movies and what you cooked that day. he would hold conversation with you for hours, never getting bored or tired of your presence. he’d play music with you, bond over songs with you, point at you whenever his favourite part would start.

you thought deleting discord would help you feel better, but you didn’t know how to move around the application well. you took a good two minutes the day before just trying to find where account information was stored. you got frustrated just sitting infront of your laptop knowing jake was active—regardless of his account being marked as idle.

you decided against letting jake run how you interacted on the app, pushing you to convince your gamer friends to let you into their own channels so you could interact with them on the app in an attempt at repurposing it.

you heard a discord notification go off on your laptop, your notifs loud to remind you of important dates. you didn’t like notifications coming down from the app as the channel you were in constantly had people in it, telling each other about different games.

you decided to ignore it, moving to change your outfit into something more worth the day. it was hot outside—disgustingly so, your friends asking if you wanted to go out a little later when the day cooled down. you agreed, thinking going out would help you get your mind off the constant reminder in your head.

your notifications ping again.

it doesn’t seem to be in conversation, the timing of each notification too far apart. you decide against better judgement to look, opening your laptop. if someone were talking to themselves for too long, you were usually the one to open chat, seeing if you could add something.

SIM🤘🏻

Hey y/n. Before you stop reading I know it was really fucking shitty of me to not message you after everything that happened. I know U deserve so much better than that. You have been not only so supportive towards me, but a light in some of my darkest days.

I don’t want u thinking i asked you about everything all the time just to get my dick wet. I do care about you. A lot. And i wanna be with you

you were hurt beyond belief. you wanted to believe everything he typed to you because you felt some truth behind it, but he hurt your feelings bad. your fingers hover the keys. it took you a few seconds to fight against your usual defence of running away from confrontational conversations, typing something in.

honestly jake, it was super fucked up for you to leave without a fucking WORD after everything…. rs.

you were proud of yourself for the message, happy you didn’t feel the burning desire to forgive him with a bitten bottom lip. you didn’t care if your relationship with him were purely sexual, but you wanted more based off the way he interacted with you,

you deserved that much.

SIM🤘🏻

I know baby and im so fucking sorry

Im not the type to do that and it fucking kills me. I like you so much Y/n you have no clue

Oops sorry! Typo

‘that ain’t a fucking typo.’

you were honestly surprised by the nickname, even more shocked at the way he was so openly calling you such. you didn’t want to completely write him off, but he did give you a little warning about who he might’ve been as a person.

‘if we started dating, would he stand me up with some bullshit excuse on why he can’t make it? what if we became partners?’

he continued to reassure you, stating that he didn’t leave because he didn’t want to be with you, but that he was nervous. he expressed to you how exposed he felt and the guilt he had about putting you in that position. he didn’t want you to reciprocate because you felt like you had to, and that’s what it seemed to him after the call ended. he went into detail about what he was feeling, even reiterating the conversation he had with his close friend heeseung after the fact. he begged you for a video call, explaining how typing wasn’t enough.

you both decided exchanging numbers at this point made more sense than going back to discord, jake face-timing you the moment he typed in your number. you both spoke for hours, your friends stopping by during the conversation in annoyance at you muting your notifications. they weren’t mad by your decision to stay at home and chat with him, even going as far as to say hello in the background. they decided they’d collect one of your close roommates to come out with them instead, you and jake planning a meetup later in the week.

• • •

11:28pm

jakes car is dark, the lights of the car off. you two decided to get takeout. you two were sitting in the backseat of an suv—jake behind his drivers seat as you sat behind the passengers. jake had moved the seats forward as much as he could to give you two more space, comfortably parked in the back section of a mall parking lot.

you both got small meals together, mere minutes before closing time. you had ordered noodles with sweet and sour chicken, jake with rice and beef. you both got a set veggies to share in another container, a set of napkins laid out on the seats to catch any spills. “honestly i’m very fuckin happy we got this, i was planning on getting pizza.” you veer into a new conversation, your left hand lightly tucking your styled hair behind your ear as your right handled the food momentarily.

you two didn’t plan outfits together, but jake called you for a facetime chat to see if you would show what you’d be wearing. when he saw your dress and your hair, he decided to match you down to your gold necklace and accessories.

you wore a simple short baby pink tight dress with spaghetti straps, leaving the house with no bra to avoid bra straps. your bag is small and rather useless past holding your phone and a small wallet. jake was wearing a fitted salmon t-shirt with black dress pants, your short wedge heel contrasting with his black sneakers.

the containers you had for the food were easy to open and close in their thick styrofoam shape, neither of you eating enough to come close to being full. “do you wanna drive around after this?” jake asks with a little bit of food in the back of his right cheek. his eyes were a little hooded as he spoke lightly, his eyes lightly following the fall of your styled hair.

your hair was styled alike to the night jake fantasied about, a little shorter than before with a left side part. it was lightly curled for dimension, topped with light baby hairs. jake loved the way it was styled, watching how it framed your face no matter how you moved.

“i’d love to drive honestly. we could find a cute dock to sit by or something.” you commented with a smile, closing your food container. jake follows your lead, holding his right hand out for you as he holds his food in his left hand. you gladly hand it over with your fork, jake stacking your fork with his as he reaches forward, putting the food balanced on the empty cup holders.

“should we just drive around until we find somewhere to sit and continue talking?” jake asks, your eyes shifting left to look at him as he pulls all the extra napkins off the seat, rolling them in a ball before throwing them forward. you noticed the middle seats cushion had been pulled down, turning the seat into an armrest and cupholder. using your left elbow to pull closer, your chin in your palm.

“we could easily talk here, i’m not worried about the location.” you commented, looking through the windshield at a car driving past slowly. jake leans into his right side, his arm pressed against the convertible armrest. his face is a bit under yours, but he’s close, his eyes slightly looking up at you through the upper corner of his eyes.

the car is silent, but you swear you can hear everything jake’s thinking as his eyes trail to your lips periodically before he looks up again, moving to line his face up with yours. he’s practically begging for anything you’ll give him as he tilts his head slightly to the right, a soft parted lip look on his face.

fuck it.

you lean in against better judgement, jake moving to push his lips into the kiss more. what was gonna be a soft smooch quickly develops, his right hand moving your arm from under your chin. he moves efficiently to push the armrest back into the imprint of the middle seat, eliminating the space between you two. he moves closer, his left hand moving up to the side of your neck.

his thumb lightly digs into your jaw to keep you steady while avoiding messing up any of the light foundation on your face. your right hand lightly wraps around his wrist and hand, lightly tracing your thumb up the small vein near his index finger. you pull away just enough for your breath to mix with his, your lips hovering. he waits for your move without any complaints, keeping his eyes closed as he waits.

“i shouldn’t be kissing you at all, you know that?” you whisper, your eyes opening as you let his wrist go. jake doesn’t let go though, his hold on your neck just as prominent as it was seconds ago.

jake nods lightly, his eyes opening. “i know.” he replies softly, lightly pulling away. “there’s nothing i regret more than fumbling this—fumbling you.” he replies again, searching your eyes in the darkness of the car. you tilt your head slightly to the right in his reach, jake lightly pushing your neck so your head sits forward again.

“i promise you, it’ll never happen again. i really really want this to work, i really do wanna be with you.”

you still don’t believe him, but you smile anyways. he reads it in your features, pulling his hand away from your neck to pull himself closer to you as he sits in the middle seat. he grabs your neck with both hands this time, your hands coming up to hold his lightly.

“i’m serious. if you give me another chance i’ll never hurt you like that, i’ve thought about you and that day nonstop. it’s not lust—“

you continue listening, your eyes looking down at his lips as he speaks.

“—i genuinely like you. i like asking you what you’re wearing for the day, messaging you about stupid shit you don’t care about, just for a text back.”

you smile at this, remembering all the one-way conversations he’d have with you at two in the morning, regardless of how incoherent your responses are.

“it was so fucked up of me to put you in that position the last time we actually spoke. i don’t know why i did that, it was gross.”

he repeats his thoughts from earlier in the day, and it seems genuine. he looks down as he speaks, looking for the right words to say. he smells good in this distance, the smell of your meal barely on his breath as he continues relentlessly.

he almost mentions the porn he searched through to find someone who looked like you, imagining the way you looked. imaging the deep brown of her nipples as yours, mentally replacing her lips, imaging how you’d sound.

you push your lips back into his to shut him up the moment he closes his lips, his eyes fluttering closed. you move your hands to the sides of his face as you shuffle in your chair, moving to get closer. jake’s hands move down to help you, but he pulls you into his lap, your dress rising. you want to protest against his lips when he pulls your right knee over his left hip, his hands running up the back of your thighs and ass.

you pull your lips away again to look at him. his hands run up your thighs over your dress to your waist, reminiscing on the dance you two shared. you can tell there’s something he’s satisfying with you in his lap. the way he doesn’t go further than a simple light touch of your frame.

you put both your hands on the top of both seats that surround jake, lightly tilting your head in amusement at how softly he touches you. he’s obviously getting himself worked up, the way your crotch lightly presses up against his. he’s lightly panting through slightly parted lips, his eyes scanning your torso and collarbones.

you can’t bare the suspense of waiting for him to take his shot, your hands coming to rip his hands from circling lightly over the shape of your thighs again. you bring his hands to your ass, lightly squeezing over his hands to encourage him. he swiftly grinds you into his lap with one drag and scoop motion of his hands, moaning shamelessly as he drops his head into the back of his seat. you move your arms to hang over the curve of his chair, your forearms digging lightly into the fabric as you grind up and down his lap.

his reaction is electric, shuffling his legs apart to accommodate you better. his hands move without order, his left forearm wrapping around you slightly. his right hands fingers dig into the fat between your thigh and hip, eager. his right thumb lightly toys with the fabric of your underwear, lightly looping under it to feel your skin.

his fingers do the same, his chin moving upwards as he begs for a kiss. you kiss him just as harshly as you grind against him, the pace steady. he slowly starts to meet you with each grind, your clit softly dragging on the fabric of his pants and your underwear.

you can tell he wants more,

and so do you.

“help me take these off,” you order lightly as you pull your dress up enough to lightly expose yourself, pulling your left leg up to help jake pull your panties off. he instead takes one thin section of your left pant-leg to tear at your underwear. it rips a little at first, but at the second tear it slowly separates, little strings of elastic left to remain.

you’re shocked, a very light gasp leaving your lips. he quickly tears through the little bits and pieces of elastic before moving the rest of the panty down your right thigh, pushing it down your thigh. he quickly reaches for his pants, his right hands knuckles lightly touching your vagina.

he can feel the light moisture of your arousal, a muffled moan leaving both your lips. he pulls his pants and underwear down in one go, looking up at you with expectant eyes. "i don't have a condom." he comments lightly, looking down at your lifted dress and deep toned skin.

“i should have one in my purse.” you comment lightly, jake’s hand reaching in your once seat for a small bag. you make yourself busy as his right hand struggles with the zipper, your right hand coming down to finally hold the heavy erection sitting in his lap. his eyes search your face for any signs of amusement, his tip is wet and sticky. a light moan his leaving his lips from the light simple hold.

he holds the condom over his lap as he tears it open, looking down to put it on when your hands lightly snatch it. you decide to do it yourself, jake’s hands lightly taking position on your bare hips as you roll it on; his hips pushing forward as he slumps into the seat better to make more room for you.

he’s eager the moment your right hand rolls the condom down, your left hand making sure it’s fine with one final stroke downwards. he watches you through it, letting you line yourself up—your left hand on his chest.

jakes eyes roll as he closes them, his head leaning back into the seat. his hands slump off your hips momentarily before he moves them to grab your sides again, remembering his role. “please.” he moans lightly at the suspense,

but you take your time regardless.

you lightly start to sit down, what jake’s dick lacks in length he makes up in thickness. it’s fantastic, and you’re aroused enough to feel nothing but light pressure as you slowly lower.

“fuck fuck fuck” jake can’t keep his mouth closed, his hands moving down to squeeze into your thighs. your right hand comes up from between your legs once he’s far in enough to not fall out. you use your hand to grope your right breast lightly, jakes hand moving to slide under your dress. he slides his hand up the giving fabric until it’s in the chest of your dress, his thumb rubbing back and forth against the nub. he watches you slowly lean down for another kiss as you finally settle, his lips parting for a groan. you kiss him the moment it slips, his right hand desperate to hold more of you.

you bounce once. “oh fuck.” you moan to yourself, jake vomiting up another moan. he bucks his hips upward at each bounce in his lap once you slowly build a slow rhythm, his left hand still holding your breast in his hand. you continue bouncing slowly, each soft clap of your thighs against his lightly rocking the car.

“you’re so good to me, i don’t deserve you.” jake lightly praises, your hands coming up to the chair to help you balance through the labour of bouncing in his lap. your energy starts to falter rather quickly, your thighs tired with the bounce in such an uncomfortable stance. jake notices the struggle, planting his feet.

he thrusts upwards, his left hand leaving your breast to hold your waist, meeting your thighs once you rise up. you moan loudly at the way he forces himself into you in a new way, the surprise of his movements making it better. he pulls his head up to look down at his movements. you take this chance to lightly run your hands up his chest and stomach, feeling the definition in his toned body. he lightly huffs out a laugh before focusing, thrusting faster than you could’ve bounced.

he looks back up at you, his eyes hooded.

“kiss me, y/n.” he lightly orders, begging for more affection.

he had been yearning for this for weeks.

he wanted to feel needed by you. he wanted to feel some level of desperation from you like he had felt since jays dinner. he wanted you to forgive him—give into him. you do, your lips sloppily rubbing against his. you lightly pant into his lips, his breath fanning into yours as you both breathe out of your mouths.

you reach your right hand down between your legs, your right hand toying with your clit for a little more stimulation. jake feels your hand lightly bump into his bellybutton as you do it, moaning at his memory of you from before. he pushes through his exhaustion, you bouncing downwards to meet each of his thrusts.

he moves his hands off your body to push them into the plush of his seats, focusing on grinding up and forward. it hits just the right spot in you, enough to elect a loud moan from between your lips. your mouth hangs open at the movement, your eyes squeezing shut to the point where you’d see stars.

you’re clenching around his length at this point, your hand tirelessly circling your clit. jake whines at the new tightness, sweat lightly collecting on his forehead from all the movement he creates. the car is hot and rocking, neither of you making the effort to hide what you’re doing. you both have stopped making out at this point, your mouths just lightly rubbing into each-others faces. your forehead pushes into his, regardless of the threat of leaving foundation on his face.

jake comes first, a whine leaving his lips.

he grits his teeth a bit as he holds his hips in the air against his exhaustion to burry himself in your grip. you’re close behind him, using his dick as a toy as you follow him once he tiredly drops his hips down. you grind in a circle against him, a slightly pained whine leaving his lips.

regardless of the feeling jake lets you, his hands finally moving back to your hips. he bites his bottom lip to redirect pain elsewhere, a final moan leaving your lips. “jake~” you moan high pitched under your breath, jakes hands running up under your dress to hold your waist.

your eyes open—you didn’t notice you had tears—to see jake looking at you with an open mouth smile. he kisses you through the smile, his right hand moving to hold your face. he disregards any thoughts about your makeup, lightly kissing you. you move your right hand away from your clit to lightly hold his neck, a moan leaving his lips as he remembers which hand it is.

you pull away to look around, the glass of the backseats lightly foggy. jake reaches his left hand over to a window, lightly tilting you both so he can reach. with his left hand, he puts his first initial beside yours, circling it in a poorly drawn heart. you laugh at the action, shaking your head lightly in a way similar to jakes habit.

“i’m so happy you agreed to see me today.” jake comments as you laugh at the heart, both of you settling back down. he’s still sitting in you, but he doesn’t seem like he wants to pull out, and you don’t feel the need to pull up.

“i’m happy too.”

“do you wanna go out with me tomorrow? so we can have an actual date?” jake asks as he wraps his arms around your waist, holding your torso flush against his. “of course.” you comment with a smile, your hands pulling close to your sides to hold his jaw with the tips of your fingers. you plant a kiss on his nose, a light chuckle leaving his lips before a car drives past again, this time close enough to shine into the car.

© SJYFAVE ON TUMBLR

[leonw4nter]

So High School

RE4R!Leon x GN!Reader

You’d think that you would’ve learned a thing or two from making bets while tipsy and buzzing with liquid courage while intoxicated during your time in university, stupid decisions with their stupid outcomes ingrained in your head every time the tequila started to taste like water, which meant that it’s probably time to pay the tab and try to head home in one piece. A drunk man’s words really must be a sober man’s thoughts, the alcohol doing the final push to make the first move you’ve dreamed of doing towards your mysterious roommate, Leon. Him being gone for most of the time and for uncertain lengths of time gave you plenty of time to get it together and rehearse asking him for a coffee but whenever he was around, in the same space as you, it’s as if you never gathered the courage to talk to him.

“Basketball?” Leon echoed, slight confusion on his angular features as he nursed a glass of whiskey. “You sure?”

“‘Course,” you confidently respond, shooting him a sure grin. “Jus’ because I’m built like this doesn’t mean I don’t know how to ball.”

Leon chuckles, nodding before he shoots what remains in his glass. “That’s a bet. Loser buys the winner dinner, right?”

You throw him a clumsy thumbs-up. He inches closer towards you and holds his hand out for you to shake. “Gotta make it official.”

A handshake seals the deal, along with the fate that will befall you a few days later after he’s finally free from whatever work kept him occupied.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Now you’re digging around your wardrobe, looking for any sports-friendly clothing. You rarely work out or take some time off, very much out of shape so you’re already at a massive disadvantage with Leon. The man probably works out every single day, carrying the heaviest weights they have in the gym. Maybe even Leg Day’s golden boy, seeing how his thighs bulge within the confines of his pants and the way his calves looked sturdy as hell. If he somehow doesn’t know the nitty gritty of basketball and only knows the basic dribbling, you’re still going to be on the losing side because he’s got stamina and endurance that would last him hours, days even. He’s got height advantage too and it’s not that you’re tiny, it’s just going to be impossible to shoot with a skyscraper blocking the ball. Then again, it’s not like the ball will make it inside the ring even if he wasn’t doing anything to block it.

“Why’d I make that stupid, stupid bet?” You hiss to yourself as you finally snag a pair of black cotton fleece shorts. It still seemed to fit you so you threw it on the bed, moving to look for a top and some shoes to pair it with. “I’m going to lock myself in my room if I’m going to drink with him around.”

Taken over by indecisiveness yet still determined to look good while sweaty in terms of outfit choice, you decide to phone your friend for some advice. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. What’s up?”

“I’m going to play basketball in… 15 minutes and I don’t know what to pair with my shorts.” You show it off inside the frame, twirling around as your friend looks on.

“It’s just shorts, you can pair it with anything. Why’s it so hard for you?”

“You don’t get it, man. I need to look perfect, even when I’m sweaty and smelly and tomato red–”

“Are you seeing someone?!”

“What? No! Well, I mean… I think they look good and ya know, I might have to buy him dinner because there’s no way I’m winning this.”

“Buy him dinner? Oh wait, this is the bet thing right–”

“Yeah… I’m never going to drink again, actually. This is the dumbest, stupidest decision of my life.”

“You’ve said that a million times but still drank and got drunk. Look where we are now.”

“Hey! I’m serious this time! And help me plan out an outfit!”

“Well shit, I dunno! A v-neck tee and a pair of Converse sneakers, simple but you’ll look cute. Right! Make the sneakers high cut.”

“Oh my god, thanks! I think I got those–”

A few gentle knocks tap against your door, Leon on the other side. You quickly skip to the door, not opening it too generously in order to block out the sight of your clothes lying everywhere on the side of your dresser.

“I hope you didn’t forget about the deal you made,” he says with a confident smirk. “I’m looking forward to dinner actually.”

You wanted to tell him that you were in the process of getting ready, having picked out what you’ll wear. You wanted to tell him that you’ll be ready in a few, bag loaded with a spare shirt and towels slung over your shoulder but the response stays frozen in your mind, unable to escape your mouth; if you tilt your head down and dare to look somewhere south, you’ll first be greeted by two blocks of solid square muscle straining through the black, short-sleeved shirt he wore, the color slightly faded with the amount of times he must’ve worn it. The real magnet, however, was the gray sweatpants he chose to wear. Nasty, filthy images flashed through your head as soon as you caught a glimpse of gray, shaking your head to clear your brain. He topped the look off with a neat pair of gray high top Converse sneakers, the shoes not worn that much since it looked newly bought.

“You didn’t back out, did you?” Leon chuckles, sending you back to Earth. “It’s okay if you did, I don’t wanna–”

“Naw, of course not! I was just about to get ready, sorry for keeping you waiting.”

“Great, I’ll be waiting in the living room. I’ll fill up our bottles while you get dressed, also got the ball ready. Borrowed it from a friend,” he says as he points to the ball kept in the nook of his curled muscular arm.

You give him a thumbs up, closing the door as he turns around to head to the direction of the living room. Skipping to your phone and seeing that you haven’t dropped the call yet, you quickly explain what happened to your friend and end it, chucking it inside your bag as you get ready.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“This outfit has got to be a distraction tactic,” you think to yourself as you walk to the outdoor court alongside Leon, occasionally dribbling the ball. “This man knows that gray sweats are a distraction and I’m going to end up focusing on the ball that is definitely not on his hand!”

If Leon did in fact decide on his current choice of clothing as a form of distraction, it might just work on you and you dislike the fact that it’s already working before the game even began.

“I like your shoes,” he says as he gestures to the pink sneakers you chose to wear in order to contrast the white and black of your upper clothing. “It suits you well.”

You mumble a thank you, also complimenting him. “You look good in sneakers too, I think you should wear it more often.”

His twinkling laughter kicks you in the back of the knee, weak from how fuzzy it made you feel. He nods and takes a mental note before he looks back down at his shoes, glad that you noticed the influence of your fashion choices on him. 10 minutes later, you two reach the court. Chucking your bags to a quiet corner of the court, the two of you head to the middle of the court; Leon passes you the ball, giving you a headstart to try and score your first point.

“I take it that you know the rules?” He asks as he moves into a defensive stance, crouching down slightly with bent knees.

“Yup,” you respond before not wasting any time and running to his side of the ring to shoot the ball. To no one’s surprise, the ball does a little twirl right at the rim before falling back down only to be snagged by Leon’s large hand without warning. “Hey!” you squeal, running after him. He waits for you to catch up with him before he makes a jump shot, sending the ball flying and into the ring as a satisfying thwoop follows the ball's entry in the net.

He easily gains four points ahead, dodging, turning, and expertly dribbling to trick you into thinking that he let the ball out of his sight. You can’t even be frustrated that you haven’t gotten a single point ever since the game started, too delighted in the genuine laughter and giggles coming from Leon; his smiles were sparse, blue eyes an ocean storm each time he came home. A rare smile would leave just as quick you caught one on his face, his face returning to look troubled but this time, he looked free and happier than you usually see him. Now, he gained an additional 3 points and grew even cockier with the wide gap of scores, along with the non-existent possibility of you winning over him. Despite your glee at seeing Leon look relaxed, you wanted to at least end the game with a point to your name. Leon didn’t mention anything about playing dirty and although he didn’t mention it because he assumed that you knew the rules and playing dirty was automatically out of the cards, you couldn’t help but feel a little devious.

Just as Leon softly nudged you, you over exaggerated a bent ankle and fell down, most of the impact centered on the heel of your palms. Though it hurt, it didn’t hurt too badly but Leon still let go of the ball and rushed to your side, the smile disappearing as he saw you sat on the ground.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he assessed your ankle, knee, and hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to–”

You got up and ran after the ball, pushing down the guilt that started to bubble up when you saw the hurt and fear that crossed Leon’s face. Finally, you caught up with the ball and dribbled it as you ran towards the hoop, jumping to shoot it. You expected an effort in vain, the ball to simply dance around the ring before dropping down but fortunately for you, the ball went inside the ring. Satisfied with ending the game at a single point for you, you flop down to the ground as you catch your breath. Leon skips up behind you, sitting by your side before he lays back on the dusty ground alongside you.

“Hey,” he pants as he catches his breath. “That wasn’t fair.”

“Didn’t say anything about playing dirty,” you quip as you tilt your head to face him.

“Played dirty but you still didn’t win, that’s a damn shame.” He says as he also tilts his own head to face you, a small smile dancing on his lips. He seems to have smiled a lot that day, you note. “I won, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Oh shut up, don’t let it get to your head… and, uh… um… thanks for being concerned for me, when I faked falling earlier. Felt kinda bad to be lying to you.”

“Hey, no biggie. I’m thankful that this one’s fake, most people on the ground that I see at work are beyond helping so I’m glad that you’re fine.”

Your eyes widen, his words triggering concern from you. Work? People on the ground beyond helping? Just what is this guy’s job? He doesn’t explain more about his job so you don’t pry for more, waiting for the time that he’s a lot more comfortable around you to share if he wishes to.

“So,” you say to change the subject. “What kinda dinner do you want? Nothing too expensive, though.”

“A dinner with you,” he smoothly responds. You sit up, resting your weight on your arms.

“Huh?”

“I want dinner with you. Anywhere, just take me out to dinner. A date, if that’s what you want to call it. Please.”

You stay silent, taking the time to process his words. He hasn’t shown a sliver of attraction towards you so his words take you by surprise but you’re pleased– very pleased.

“A date,” you quietly echo. “Sure, sounds nice.”

“When are you free?”

“On the 20th.”

“Me too.”

“So… that’s a date then?”

He nods, grinning. He gets up first, extending a hand to you as you both begin the walk back home.

NOTE - Not rlly sure on how to end this so it ended on a meh note 😭🙏 Writer's block got my ass, unfortunately. Anyways, I think I need to get my jaw checked bc the left side of my jaw clicks and hurts when I open my mouth widely to yawn or brush my teeth so yea :3 Almost forgot to mention that the title is based off of "So High School" by TS. I gotta feed my DMC readers in AO3 too so I'll dedicate some time to cooking something for them before returning to posting more Leon fics :3 Found out Laufey has a boyfriend and I fell to my knees as if I had a chance with her in the first place but I'm still very happy that she's finally found love and trusts someone enough to treat her well. Anyways, thank you for reading my fics!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I <333333333 UUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers (the ones with the heart and star) are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[antimonyandthyme]

carcar the last of us au snippet

warnings: past character death, descriptions of the infected, descriptions of use of weapons and violence

What Carlos wants to say, in a way fashioned entirely after his father: That grave is about as deep as it needs to be. No one has the luxury to mourn. Stop fucking around and move on or die standing still.

What he actually says: “Do you need help?”

“No,” Oscar says, curt. “I should be the one to lay him to rest.”

“Okay,” Carlos says.

Maybe it’ll help Oscar, and Carlos shouldn’t begrudge him that. Help him avoid the scenario in which every infected thereafter shared facial characteristics with Charles. Max. A pretty mouth, a strong jaw. It’s his fault, after all. Carlos should have taken the time to bury all of that under the dirt. But all he could do was run.

There’s an almost relaxing rhythmic sound to the ground being hacked up, and a different kind of tanginess to the smell of fresh earth that lets him forget about blood for a moment.

He could be kind, sit at the foot of the grave and listen to Oscar talk about Logan. Why he thought coming back to where they grew up was a good idea. All these good ideas crumbling to dust, at every town they've witnessed that has eaten itself from the inside out.

Carlos closes his eyes. He doesn’t quite know what to do with another faceless loss, can’t add another number to his collection.

And anyway, Oscar's seen his fair share. He’s too good with the shovel for this to be his first.

Carlos clears his throat, when Oscar's finally done placing some leafy branch at the head of the grave. Flowers. On a grave. That’s some doe-eyed rose-tinted bullshit. There’s a strangled bird, caged somewhere to the left of Carlos’ chest. He doesn’t allow that bird any food or warmth or hope, for fear of softness. Can’t be soft if you want to survive.  

“We should move,” he says.

“We?” Oscar reels his head up. The loss carving its way down his cheeks haven’t fully dried, but he looks hopeful, almost like a lost dog. With how Carlos acts, he probably hadn't expected an offer like this. It should've been cut and dry. Getting you to your city, in exchange for a car battery.

“It’s a simple question,” Carlos says. “Are you coming?”

If he wasn’t already fucked all ways to Sunday, making his way along this forsaken earth with two rounds of ammunition and less than a quart tank of gas left, he’s definitely fucked now, adding a bleeding heart to their journey. But Carlos imagines Charles’ face if he were to leave a kid behind and—damn him for that. For being a ghost and still demanding good of him.

“Yes,” Oscar says.

Arguments and energy spent on arguments should be saved for the important things. Carlos throws what’s left of their shit into the back of the trunk, and wordlessly, gets into the driver’s seat.

--

“I’m just saying.” Oscar’s insistent. He’s spent the first half an hour of the journey staring vacantly out the window, but apparently, country music’s where he draws the line. “If for some reason this car caught on fire—”

“Don’t you even dare,” Carlos says. The thought of losing the Sienna makes him want to shrivel up and die. With luck, they managed to jack a vehicle with a working CD player. Tunes are a necessity in what is essentially a never-ending road trip. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“If it did,” Oscar says, “and I only had time to save one album—”

“Zach Bryan,” Carlos says.

“No,” Oscar says flatly.

“Dios mio. I should have left you back there.”

“You nearly did,” Oscar points out, but it doesn’t sound accusing. At Carlos’ furtive glance, he shrugs. “No hard feelings. I know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah?” Carlos doesn’t like the sound of that, gets his back all up. Ten and two on the wheel, lest he reaches for Oscar’s shirt to shake him until his teeth rattle. “What am I doing?”

“Self-defense,” Oscar says.

“I really should have left you.”

“I didn’t mean that in a bad way.” Seemingly chastised, Oscar digs his teeth into his lower lip. Charles used to do that too, before he acquired the ability to unhinge his jaw and take larger bites. “You look out for your own, right?”

Carlos wonders if Oscar can see his trauma for what it is. The way Carlos has been tuned toward Oscar in the passenger seat, as if an infected would crash through the windscreen at any second. The way he’d swerve right, driver’s seat to the road, without a second thought, if it meant his neck would be exposed instead of Oscar’s.

He’s got nothing to offer but his own body.

“I’m doing such a great job of it.”

“Mate,” Oscar says warily. If he could hedgehog his way any further into the car’s upholstery, he would be so far back he’d be invisible by now. Zach croons in the staticky background, There ain’t no world in which I am good for you. Ain’t no world, now or ever. “I wasn’t saying you weren’t.”

“No, really,” Carlos says, a little hysterically, “I’m doing such a great job—”

--

There were things in the world that should not have applied to Charles. Spend upwards of two months to four years with him and you’d start to imagine that his fingernails never got dirty, or that his smile never got ugly, or that his face never got bloodied.

But he turned like everyone else.

His skin bleached itself until every single vein was visible, and his eyes lost all recognition. He could still speak, for the first bit. Said their names in what was almost a parody. Cahlos. Cahhhlos.

“We have to,” Max couldn’t finish his sentence, though he kept trying. “We have to—”

Charles lunged for them like a rabid animal. They cringed, but the tire chains wound around Charles hold fast, and he shrunk back. Before lunging again, and again. If Carlos were a better man, he’d put Charles out of his misery. Too bad he was a big fucking coward.

“Don’t,” Carlos hissed, absolutely feral, when Max squared his shoulders and took a step forward. “Don’t touch him.”

Max’s chest rose and fall in rapid succession. His eyes were glassy and hollow. Max, who Carlos had never seen shed a tear once, who they all joked would survive them all. He looked a gentle tap away from breaking. “This isn’t about our stupid feelings, it’s about what Charles would have wanted.”

“Fuck you,” Carlos said, to nobody in particular. To maybe himself. Charles was his responsibility when they went on the raid for food, and Charles was still his responsibility now. Till the end. He’d shown Carlos the bite on his calf, almost guiltily, and remained docile and quiet when Carlos wrapped him in chains, while Carlos breathed through what was most definitely a panic attack.

Easy, Carlos. You’ve got to care of Max now. Easy, come on, breathe Carlos. It doesn’t hurt much, not now anyway. Just. Do me a favour. Make it quick, alright?

Cahhhhlos.

“I’ll take care of it,” Carlos said, because all of this was his fault. In the chaos at the grocery store, he got separated from Charles for a harrowing two and half minutes. That was all it took. “Just. Just give me a moment. Just give me a second, alright?”

Charles snarled, snapping his teeth against the metal biting into his skin. This couldn’t be how Carlos remembered him.

“I’ll do it in the morning,”Carlos promised. I’ll do it after sunrise, so he gets to see it one last time.

In the morning, this is what he found:

Charles, chest cavity open, lying still like he was peacefully asleep.

And Max, bleeding out from a bite wound in his forearm, the gun used to lay Charles to rest tucked at his feet. His skin was paper white, but his eyes were still bright.

“I fucked up,” Max said. It was the way he said it. Completely accepting and calm. It made Carlos drop to his knees and hack out the nothing he had left in his stomach. Bile burned his throat raw. “I thought I could do it, so you wouldn’t have to. Sorry.”

Carlos trembled, pushed his forehead into the ground. The entire world was bearing down on him like a magnifying glass on an ant. He didn’t want to look up. If he didn’t look up, then this didn’t have to be real.

“Carlos,” Max said, more gently than Carlos had ever heard him. By some magnetic, supernatural force, it lifted Carlos’ head from the dirt. Max had enough in him to kick the gun over to Carlos, and life in him yet for the corner of his mouth to twitch up. “You can do it.”

Carlos shook his head mutely.

The expression on Max’s face morphed into something unfamiliar. Pleading. It would carry itself into Carlos’ nightmares and every single infected running after him after. “You can. Just don’t fuck it up this time.”

--

“I’m,” Oscar says. He sounds heartbroken for people he doesn’t even know. “I’m sorry about your friends.”

“You didn’t know,” Carlos says. He never should have said anything. Maybe it’s the kid, snapping, I should be the one to do it. Mirrors are a relic of the past, but Carlos looks at Oscar and sees the same jagged stubbornness lining all his edges. “I’m sorry about Logan.”

They pass the rest of the drive in silence.

[turcott3]

Happy 1st

trevor zegras x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, kissing, smut, unprotected sex, oral f receiving

masterlist

this is for my dear dear friend @kawhh ! i love you so much and im so blessed to have called you a friend for a whole year. many kisses for you!!

-

“just a few more steps.” trevor says in your ear as he covers your eyes, walking down toward the beach on your tropical vacation. one that’d you’d been waiting for for months.

“are we almost there?” you giggle as he stops in his tracks.

“yes.” he says, uncovering your eyes.

“oh my gosh.” you gasp as you observed the sight in front of you. a beach cabana day bed, converted to a romantic, rose and candle covered, date night.

“do you like it?” he asks.

“like it? trevor, i love it.” you reply, hugging the boy tightly.

“oh good, i had to bribe the hell out of the resort workers to let me do this.” he giggles as you pull him by his hand to the bed. the bed had an array of your favorite foods and snacks, all in front of you as you faced the sunset.

“this doesn’t even feel real.” you giggle, taking a bite of a snack.

“do you want me to pinch you?” he asks as he pinches you on the arm.

“definitely real.” you smile as he leans over to kiss you, which you gladly accept.

“how long can we be out here?”

“they said till sunrise.” he replies as you get comfortable cuddled up on his side.

“oh wow, definitely won’t be out here that long.”

“no just until it’s dark, maybe after something. i don’t know.” he says looking away jokingly.

“trevor.” you say firmly.

“what? can you blame me? i mean look around.” he says and you laugh.

“baby i was joking.”

“okay good.”

“can i tell you a secret?” you ask and he nods. you dig your fingers discreetly in his pocket, pulling out the condom and holding it up.

“this.” you say.

“what about it?” he asks before you toss it behind you.

“wha-“

“i don’t want you to use it anymore.” you cut him off.

“why?”

“because. i mean im on birth control, we’ve been together for a whole year. id say it’s fair to you. i know its not as good when you have it on. its kind of unfair to make you keep using them when we’ve been together this long.” you say taking your fingers through his hair.

“i feel like id sound like a dick if i say thank you so i mean it in an endearing way.” he laughs pulling you to him as he presses kisses all over your face.

“also you just littered.” he says nodding behind you.

“of course trevor. you know i love you. i want you to enjoy it like i can. and i’ll grab it on our way back okay?” you laugh.

“good, i can’t make them regret this.” he says. those were his last words before grabbing your face and smashing his lips onto yours intensely.

you knew exactly where this moment was headed and you weren’t mad about it.

one thing about trevor is he knew exactly how to treat you. he knew EXACTLY how to get you there, maybe even two or three times.

he started tugging on the skirt of your tight dress, keeping his lips locked on yours as he pulled it up, only separating your lips to pull it over your head. your surprise for him was a step out of the comfort zone for you. no bra, no panties.

when he finally pulled away he slid off the day bed, discarding his clothes quickly (without falling) and kneeling down in the sand, pulling you by your ankles to the edge.

“i’ve been waiting all day for this.” he says lowly, kissing up your inner thigh straight to your core, your back arching at the intense sensation he gave you.

“oh my god.” you whine, keeping your voice low in case there were people in earshot. his hands gripped tightly on the outside of your thighs as he twisted your swollen bud with his tongue, locking eyes with you, driving you even more insane. if there was one thing about him, he knew exactly what your weaknesses were.

you felt yourself creeping closer to an orgasm each second. your breaths became broken and shallow as your orgasm rammed into high gear. you squeezed your eyes shut as it flooded through your body, your thighs lightly squeezing the boys head before he pulled away, wiping his face with his arm with a smirk.

“that was so fucking good.” you say breathlessly as he crawls over you, reconnecting your lips once again. he jerked himself hard hovering over you, waiting for you to be ready.

“the real question is, are you ready?” you ask with a light giggle. all he does is laugh in return, shoving his cock into you unexpectedly. your head shooting forward at the quick change in feeling. you lazily flopped your arms around his back as his thrusts began. they were slow and calculated. you felt every inch of his throbbing cock as he thrusted in and out of you at a steady pace.

“fuck. feels so fucking good.” he groans above you before you reconnect your lips again.

“does it? show me.” you say on his lips. he pulls away locking eyes with you, snapping his hips into you, the sound of your skin colliding as loud as a real clap.

“fuck.” you moan as he pulls your legs over his shoulders, giving him better access. instantly he picks up his pace, drilling into you relentlessly, still being very thorough with his movements, one of his hands finding their way to your clit.

“doing so good baby, taking me so well.” he smirks as your mascara began to run with the euphoric tears that left your eyes. you were immediately overstimulated. he was stretching you out like never before, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix with every thrust, brushing your g-spot without fail.

“oh my god, never been s-so fucking deep trevor.” you say, your hands finding anything possible to grip on. you could feel your second orgasm creeping closer to the forefront but you wanted to hold off for him, so maybe he could enjoy it a little bit longer. your fingers gripped onto the boys hair as he brought his lips to your neck, your moans snapping up the octave once he found the most perfect angle.

“trevor, shit i’m gonna cum.” you moan in his ear, you could feel his breath as he giggled in the crook of your neck. a sense of relief came once the second wave finally hit. you saw a whole galaxy behind your eyelids this time.

“i think im getting there. where where?” he replies.

“in me trevor, in me.” you reply in a moan. at this point you figured you’d gained a breeding kink in one raw session.

you’d never been fucked like this a day in your life.

he fucked you all the way through your high, which you continued moaning through, because how could you not.

“i’m so fucking close.” he grunts, his thrusts becoming more spastic and uneven. you felt his dick twitch inside you before your pussy was coated in his warm, milky climax. he continued thrusting into you until you’d milked him dry.

“holy hell.” he whispers, pulling out of your milky core.

“god where did that come from?” you giggle.

“i don’t even know honestly. that was so fucking good. god i’m so in love with you.” he says rolling over and pulling you onto his chest.

“happy first anniversary my love.” you say, a light smile spreading across your cheeks.

“happy first baby, i couldn’t possibly love you more.” he replies.

“awe stop.” you reply smacking his chest as he pressed kisses from your forehead to your lips.

“so you think we should maybe get ready to go back or?” he starts.

“no, i wanna stay here. i never wanna leave this moment.” you reply, laying your head over his heart, that beated calmly just for you.

very rarely was trevor ever serious about anything in his life, but if there was one thing he knew, is that he was more than serious about you.

you laid for a few hours out on the day bed, feeing each other strawberries and various other snacks from the board that survived the bomb sex you just had. you were smitten with him, which you truly never expected from him. you were more than surprised, you were honored. but most importantly, you knew more than ever that you loved him, more and more every single day out of the 365 in the year.

[star--707]

⚠️Servamp manga spoilers ahead⚠️

Is it strange that I want to see more of Kuro’s past? Like when they finally showed him when he was a human, the story felt… short. All we got to see is how he died and what came after. I’m interested to know how his life was before his death and maybe it could give us clues as to why his creator is obsessed with him

And at the part where the Sloth pair meets with the Greed pair a second time, after Lawless and Kuro's fight, Licht played a song on his Piano that made everyone think about their saddest memories. It was obvious what Lawless and Mahiru were upset about, but what about Kuro?

Speaking of which, I’d like to think with the situation with Saint Germain is like, “Kuro/Adam doesn’t know him but he knows Kuro/Adam” type thing. Maybe he’s his relative or knows one of his relatives, or he just stalks him for some reason (idk) but something like that and he's just watching him in the shadows until his death happened. Cause I don't know how else he could be obsessed with him. He just knows him some how. Also, we see when Germain was digging him out, he was crying. By why? Is it because of Kuro himself or is he just sad someone died in general (cause he hates death and all)? If it's not the latter, why else would he be that emotional over a stranger? Then again, Saint Germain is just odd in general.

Another thing is when C3 first came in contact with Kuro about eliminating Germain, the head lady said, "He's doing all these things for you" like what does that even mean? It's so confusing

I have a head cannon that he's fulfilling wishes Kuro had and took it too far. Since Kuro died at such a young age he wasn't able to fulfill the wishes he wanted and so Germain took it upon himself to grant them.

The wishes can be simple as "I wish I had a family" thing. Cliche I know but it's an example I can think of. It can explain why his other siblings were created. And maybe why when Germain created more servamps, he sent them to go see Kuro so he can get to know them. I find it strange that Germain sent all the servamps to see Kuro cause what do they have to gain from that? He didn't say why either. I just filled the blanks like that. Again, it's just my head cannon.

I can't wait to see more chapters! The manga is close to its end an I hope all the blanks get filled soon!