#but the even worse one is my left pointer finger

[sweetdreamz2]

Entangled Bonds - S. Gojo x S. Geto

synopsis: caught between two powerful sorcerers, you find yourself trapped in a dangerous and controlling relationship.

pairings: yandere! S. Gojo x S. Geto x f! reader

word count: 1.8k

content: MDNI!! kidnapped reader, coercion, emotional abuse, slight signs of reader exhibiting stockholm syndrome, toxic relationship dynamics, emotional manipulation

You were seated on the couch, unmoving while your trembling fingers nervously played with the hem of your shirt —well, not your shirt but one of Satoru's —ending at your thighs. 

The oppressive silence in the room was putting you on edge, but alas that was broken only by the faint rustling of fabric as Suguru shifted by the window. His posture was firm, arms crossed against his chest tightly, and his gaze was anything but soft. It was sharp, unrelenting as his dark orbs slowly flickered towards you. 

It wasn’t always like this—at least, not in the beginning. You never expected that meeting Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto would upend your life in ways where you could never break free. 

You met them years ago, though for you it felt like another lifetime. At the time, you were but an apprentice—a healer specializing in rare techniques that’s been passed down for generations in your family. Your days were reticent as you spent most of your time treating small ailments alongside learning how to channel energy into restorative power. It wasn’t glamorous, but you were content with your life and it was yours. 

Then Satoru Gojo walked into your clinic. 

There was no way you could miss him—the towering man with snowy white hair, dressed in black from head to toe, a white blindfold hiding what you later discovered were piercing, unnervingly beautiful eyes. He was injured, but he waved it off like nothing and instead flashed a lopsided grin towards your direction.

“Looks worse than it is,” he spoke casually, his frame leaning against the doorframe as blood drenched the side of his uniform.

You merely blinked, taking in his flippant attitude and the faint sparkle of power that radiated off him like heat. 

“Keep walking around like that and you’ll eventually bleed out,” you retorted all the while reaching for your supplies.

Satoru smirked. “Oh? You’re worried about me already? We just met.” His tone was full of teasing.

At his reply, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, not bothering to answer him and motioning with your pointer finger for him to sit down. He sighed dramatically, dragging himself to the nearest chair as if it were an incredible effort.

You began to clean and patch up his wound until you found yourself distracted by the strange energy he carried, your movements halting. You could tell he’s a sorcerer, but he was unlike any you’ve encountered before. The power he was exuding was overwhelming, suffocating even, but he carried it effortlessly, as if the weight of it didn’t bother him the slightest. 

“You’ve got steady hands,” he said, breaking the silence. His tone was light, though his words made your cheeks heat.

“I have to,” you replied back softly, shaking your head to gather your thoughts to focus back on your work. “Healing can be tricky and isn’t forgiving of mistakes.”

The white haired male tilted his head as if studying you. “A perfectionist, huh? I like that. What’s your name?”

You hesitated, reluctant to share anything personal, but his disarming smile made it hard to resist. You finally told him your name, your orbs focusing on his wound —or what’s left of it. 

“Well, Y/N,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “I think we’ll get along just fine.” 

After you finished treating Satoru, another man stepped through the clinic door - Suguru Geto. His presence was the opposite of Satoru’s; where Satoru was loud and attention-seeking, Suguru was quiet and composed.

“Making a mess already, Satoru?” Suguru’s tone was dry while he glanced at the blood-soaked chair. 

“It’s not my fault she’s got a cozy little place here. Can’t blame me for wanting to stick around!”

You looked between the two, confused yet slightly uneasy. They were a strange pair, both carrying an aura of danger you couldn’t ignore.

“You should be more careful,” you said, addressing the two males. “I don’t know who—or what— you’ve been fighting, but it’s reckless to be out and about in this condition.”

Suguru raised an eyebrow, his lips slowly stretching into the faintest smile.

“You’ve got a sharp tongue for a healer.” 

You narrowed your eyes, shooting a small glare. “It’s called common sense,” you retorted, though your voice wavered slightly under his intense gaze.

From that moment, your life began to intertwine with theirs. They returned to your clinic again and again and again, sometimes injured or sometimes just stopping by for the heck of it. Satoru always teased, pushed at your boundaries, while Suguru observed quietly, his eyes never missing a thing. You weren’t sure why they’ve taken such an interest in you, but you couldn't deny the pull you felt towards them despite how dangerous it felt.

-

Now, years later, you were tapped in their web, your once - peaceful life a distant memory as you were brought back to reality by a voice.

Suguru’s voice cut through the air like a blade, low and cold. “You’re not taking this seriously, are you? Do you think this is some game? That you can do whatever you want and we’ll just overlook it?”

Your stomach churned at his tone. It wasn’t the first time he’s spoken to you like this, but each time it sent a pang of guilt right through your chest. You remembered the soft smiles, the promises they made about protecting you, and how you once thought there might be a way out. But you knew better.

“I… I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t trying to upset you, Sugu. I just thought—”

He interrupted you sharply. “Thought?” 

Suguru took a step closer to you, his eyes narrowing. “You thought stepping outside, exposing yourself to god-knows-who, was a good idea? Do you realize what could’ve happened? Or do you not care?”

You shut your eyes, flinching at his words as you felt your heart sank. You didn’t want to make him angry— didn’t want to make either of them upset. You didn’t mean to disobey them, you just wanted some space.

“I do care,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “I really do. I just.. I didn’t think it would—”

“That’s the problem, you didn’t think.” He snapped, his tone growing harsher. His dark eyes bore deeply into yours, disappointment and anger twisting the knife of guilt even deeper. 

“After everything we’ve done to protect you, this is how you repay us? By being reckless?”

“No, I wasn’t trying to—”

“Stop.” Suguru interjected, his voice colder now. “No more excuses.” His fingers dug into his forearms, and his face remained unreadable, but the distance between the two of you felt like an ocean.

“You should know how dangerous the outside world is, Y/N. You’ve been with us long enough to understand the stakes.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you instinctively reached out towards him, desperately trying to calm the storm you unleashed unintentionally.

“Suguru.. I’m sorry. I really am. Please, I—”

“Enough.” Once again you were shut down, his voice like a wall slamming down between you.

Your throat tightened as you dropped your gaze to your lap, the heavy weight of guilt eating you alive. You felt like a child being scolded by their parents. You never intended to disappoint Suguru or Satoru. All you wanted was space, air to breathe again, but now you felt like you were suffocating.

Satoru, who was sitting quietly from the other side of the living room, finally spoke up. “Whoa, whoa, hey, let’s not make this more dramatic than it needs to be.” His voice was soft and light, though it held an undertone of seriousness. 

He stood up from the chair, sauntering over and stepping between you and Suguru with ease. Crouching in front of you, he tilted his head to catch your downcast eyes. 

“You’re scaring her, Suguru. You know how sensitive she gets when you use that tone.” Satoru spoke while a small frown tugged at his lips, giving a look towards the other male. 

Suguru kept quiet for a moment, his hand rubbing the back of his neck while rolling his eyes at the comment. 

“She should be scared. Maybe then she’ll finally start thinking before putting herself in danger. It’s not about coddling her, Satoru.” He finished off, his jaw tightening as his dark orbs flickered briefly over towards you.

For a moment, there seemed to be something unreadable in his gaze— frustration mixed with something softer, but it disappeared almost instantly.

You glanced at Satoru, seeing a smile replace the frown from earlier as his hand gripped your thigh gently underneath his fingertips. The touch was soft and gentle, his fingers squeezing your skin ever so often in a way to comfort you. 

“Toru.. I didn’t want to make him upset. I didn’t want to upset either of you. I just.. just needed a bit of space. I thought… maybe I could have a few moments of normality.” Your voice trembled slightly, tears beginning to stream freely down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

Satoru softened slightly as his hand reached out to brush away your tears. 

“You don’t need to apologize for wanting some space, sweetheart. We get it, really. But next time, let us know, alright? No more running off and getting into trouble. We just worry about you.” His words were playful, though it held an underlying seriousness that made your chest tighten.

You gave a weak nod, but the guilt still lingered. Suguru’s disappointment was still evident, and despite the reassurance from Satoru, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you only made things worse.

Suguru’s gaze hasn’t left your form, still as unyielding as ever, but a subtle change flickered in his eyes.

“You can’t keep doing this, baby. We’re here to protect you, but you have to let us. It’s our responsibility to keep you safe. You belong with us.” Suguru’s voice was calmer, yet firm as he stepped closer towards you and Satoru.

You glanced between them, heart torn in two. Satoru’s words felt like a balm—comforting, reassuring— but Suguru’s felt more like a chain, tying you down tighter with every passing moment. They were right, and that’s what hurt the most. You never really gave much thought about how much danger you could be in, how much they had already given to keep you safe.

“I’m… not sure if I can do this,” you whispered.

Satoru reached out, cupping your cheek with his hand. “Sweetheart, you don’t need to worry. We’ve got you. We promise you’ll never be alone.”

You closed your eyes at his warmth, though guilt still lingered deep within you. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized again, though it was more to yourself than to them. “I didn’t mean to make things harder for you.”

Suguru’s gaze softened just enough to let you catch a glimpse of the concern buried beneath his stern exterior. He sits down next to you, reaching out to grab your hand in his and squeezes softly.

“I’m only angry because I care, Y/N. We both do,” he finishes off while Satoru leans forward and places a gentle kiss against your temple.

You closed your eyes, the weight of their words pressing down on you like a chain you could never break.

[belovedcloud]

One Bed

pairing: leon kennedy x fem! agent! reader

✎ synopsis: who knew saving the president's daughter was so tiring? only you and leon knew the treacherous steps towards the hotel room that was supposed to rejuvenate you both. only for him to open the door and to see one bed.

✎ notes: omg hey everyone. it has been months since my last post and thank you so much for the love on 'such a sweetheart'. i needed a hiatus from writing and i hope you guys love this one bed trope! it's not proofread so sorry if there are mistakes but i am way too lazy to read over it all. love you guys.

➤ WC: 5K

➤ CW: you helped leon save ashley, one bed trope duh, touch starved leon, kisses, petnames, cowgirl, tired sex, p in v, unprotected sex, leon cums on you.

Who knew saving the president's daughter would be so exhausting? The whole ordeal was strenuous to your muscles and mental state. A good nights rest was what you needed after the catastrophe you just encountered. Luckily, you were able to squeeze a shower before getting to the hotel. The idea of mud, bodily fluids and blood was too much to handle for any longer than necessary. Though, if it wasn't for Leon - you probably wouldn't be around currently. Being mission partners with him allowed you to understand his perspective on bioweapons and whatnot.

Without a doubt, he hated them. Despised even. This was a common viewpoint, but his hate went far beyond the normal eye.

It was best not to pry. You couldn't class yourselves as friends, just work partners. Agents who fought the living dead and anything else that came in your way. The undead was a sensitive topic to Leon. What could he have went through?

Leon's life was one of pure terror ever since he was victimised to Raccoon City. The first day on the job completely different to others who joined for the first time. Unlocking padlocks were for survival, not for fun. Reading notes left from other officers who already found their fate was disturbing. The scribbles on the paper led him out. To safety he had hoped. No. Safety was not an option that day - his welfare was tarnished every second.

Now being forced into the workforce of the government wasn't any better. Probably even worse. Time and time again Leon would feel the cold metal pressed against his temple, shakily holding the gun to his head. The index finger aching to snap the trigger to blast his brains out. Yet the same reasoning withheld him from doing so. What if another incident like Raccoon City happened in the near future? He was hired to help others - to dispose of the horrors of the world without alarming the population.

Having you as his partner was a struggle and a blessing.

His communicative state from when he was 21 was now gone. A rookie turned agent against his will led him to be colder than others. Leon kept to himself most of the time, here and there giving you a few pointers on how you can effective pop a flash grenade or what to do in a sticky situation. You reflected how he was 6 years ago. A 21 year old who was excited to start at a police department - you were an agent who was motivated to save others. Your actions held such kindness to him. No prying or none of those snickering comments he would get from the other agents at base.

Just peace.

So mentally speaking, he didn't mind having to share a room with you in this crammed hotel. It was a Saturday so it was expected. Though, other patrons would be coming here to have a one night stand or a relaxing time away from their family... you both just needed rest.

Sluggish movements paved their way to the door number, 012. You and him clinging onto your duffel bags silently. It was an awkward silence, a silence that hung below you both as he fumbled with the key card in his hand. Scanning it through to unlock the barrier between you both and the comfort of the beds that laid inside.

Beds. Or... bed?

Your eyes scan the room. Continuously trying to seek out the other bed that should be here. You examine the footing of it, seeing that it's a double bed instead of 2 singles. Great. The dumbfounded look on your face is almost laughable as the situation dawns on you. You were in a room with Leon and it only consisted of one bed for the both of you.

There were a few ways to go about this. You either both sleep in the same bed together or one takes the bed and the other finds another place to rest. Looking around, it appears that the only viable option would be the cracked leather arm chair, resting solo in the corner. Thinking about it, you were willing to give yourself a crick in your neck to save yourself from the embarrassment of sharing the bed with the other agent.

Leon thought otherwise. The brisk movement of the gear belt slung over the armchair with his duffel bag smacked down in the centre. He was tired, over the bullshit that he just fought - he couldn't care less if he had to share a bed.

"Looks like they forgot a bed huh?" He joked sarcastically, stretching his limbs. The strain of his muscles was visible, undoubtably attractive. Leon carried himself enchantingly, you wanted to learn more about him as every second passed. A sigh leaves his throat whilst he sat down on the bed, continuously stretching. The shirt riding up slightly, giving you a chance to avert your eyes to the uncovered skin. His v-line was on show, the dip down soon stopped by the fabric of his cargos. The shirt he was wearing was a tight fit, letting the muscles of his biceps become visible to the naked eye and the shape of his pecs becoming more noticeable the more you looked.

At least you had a bed in the room? That was the only positive you could find from this when removing your gear off your body. Slinging it into the corner of the room alongside your bag. You both are exhausted from the long day, so you were thankful there's at least a bed to share.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower real quick..." His movements are swift, already gripping onto his shirt he reveals his back to you - throwing the shirt on the floor beforehand. Multiple scars are littered faintly around the skin but the more distinguishable thing is his muscles. Leon's toned body calls out to you as his shoulder to waist ratio is insane. A slim waist, broad shoulders, it all speaks to you. You can feel your body speaking back as you look at him a little longer than expected.

Your little fangirling sesh is over when he shuts the bathroom door behind him - you let a breath you didn't know you withheld. Well, all you could do was wait for him to finish his shower before you could have one. The pitter patter of the water hitting the shower floor is heard before it dies down - giving you a mental note that Leon was now cleaning himself. Why are you even thinking about this?

Leon lets out a sigh once the hot water hits his body. An instant relieving feeling flowing through him as he just stands there for a minute. Soaking in the greatness of water before grabbing the washcloth and shower gel nicely provided by the hotel staff. Squeezing the bottle, a dollop of soap smothers the cloth before he runs it across his body.

Humming can be heard whilst he cleanses his body, ensuring to dispose of all the sweat and dirt from their recent mission. Reflecting back on the situation, he started to feel a bit nervous having to share a bed with you tonight. You were pretty, very pretty to him. He mentally scolded himself whilst he ran the cloth down his chest - his mind returning back to you. A soft moan elicited out of his lips made his hand smack his face. Leon wasn't sure why he was feeling this way. Instinctive movements of him washing himself in motion, his fingers manoeuvring the washcloth on autopilot as his mind focused on you. He can't help but think about you some more, remembering your cute smile when you would hand him a cup of coffee at base. Or your simple gestures of making sure he was comfortable and how you reserved yourself around him made his heart skip a beat.

It had been a while since he thought about someone romantically, his job stripping him of any personal life as the thought of the multitude of viruses around the world was increasing each day. But now, deep down... he could feel an attraction to you. Leon wasn't sure if it was sexual or genuine love - it would be too soon to tell. However, this feeling was deep rooted within, his mind wanted to show you love. His heart longing for someone.

A sentiment he had not felt in a while.

Trying to calm his heart down from going into cardiac arrest, giving himself a mental pep talk - trying not to think about you too much. He shuts off the water soon after and grabs the white towel neatly folded on top of the counter cabinet. Rubbing himself dry and wrapping it around his waist - tightening it slightly. He doesn't want an accident to happen.

Your mind shuts off as you hear footsteps in the bathroom. He was out. Okay. Do you look away when he opens the door? Leon doesn't give you time to think as the door creaks open, revealing himself into the main room. His bare chest and hair still damp for show. Jesus Christ. His damped skin looks good in the dim light, as if he had displayed himself just for you. He notices you sitting tensely on the bed, his body approached you. Blue eyes instantly drifting to your body and lingering for a second before he snaps out of it.

"I needed that..." He groans out, sitting beside you. You mentally slap yourself as you snap your thoughts back to the present.

"Yeah I bet, I already had a shower before we got here so I'm alright." Your response is meek, but at least you had something to respond with.

The man next to you raises his eyebrows at you in slight surprise, he wasn't expecting you to have already taken a shower - but by the look of it, you did look super clean compared to him before. Perhaps you had it when he was getting questioned at base for the report of the mission. Leon tries to keep his eyes focused on your face and not your body. "Oh lucky you," he replied with a smirk.

"I couldn't stand all the random liquids on me, it was disgusting." A chuckle leaves you when you remember looking at yourself in the mirror. Gross... but at least you could laugh at yourself for getting in such a mess? "You were subjected to most of the mess to be honest." Leon chortled out, reminiscing on your reaction when you had novistador blood all over you.

Your conversation with him was cut short when you both recalled the situation laid opened to the two of you. One bed, two agents. It seemed childish that you couldn't think the both of you could share a bed - it was just awkward. Really awkward.

"I can take the floor if you want?" The sound of your voice cuts through the silence, Leon replayed the question in his head before shaking his head. "Don't be ridiculous, I'm not letting you sleep on this cold ass floor." His eyes averted to the hardwood floor, indicating that your question was out of order.

"You want to share the bed then?" This question to Leon was better, he really didn't mind another person next to him whilst he slept. Recalling past moments, he's slept through worse. "We're both adults here. We can share the bed, it won't be bad." A calm response from the agent. What more could you expect?

Your reluctant nod allows him to get back up to look through the wardrobe in the hotel room. A couple extra blankets stored alongside some pyjamas that the workforce provided for both of you. You two were granted a pair of sweatpants and black top - your eyes brightened up, realising you weren't having to sleep in fresh gear wear.

"I'll go in the bathroom to change, you can change here." An authoritative tone left him, not giving you a chance to speak back before he returned back into the bathroom. Scurrying over to the open wardrobe, you hand picked your pyjamas - undressing yourself from the imprisonment of your current clothes to something a lot more baggy and comfortable. A sigh let loose from you, your body mindlessly walking over to the bed and plopping down on the edge. The mattress aiding in soothing your back from the hellish ride you attuned escaping the island.

A yawn seeped through your lips, hazily looking at your phone screen at the time, 01:24... It really was time to rest. Though, the thought of Leon couldn't leave your mind. He plagued your brain - a part of you didn't complain.

A sound of a door creaking open embarked into your ears, Leon had changed into his nightclothes. The tank top fit snugly on his body however, the pair of sweatpants seemed a little baggy. Clearly a little too big for him since they were hanging dangerously low on his hips. He was plain exhausted. His limbs gradually moved him to the bed that you two were about to share. Sinking his body into the mattress as the sheets hugged his frame.

Minutes passed, a silence rose in the room. Leon's back laid restfully whilst scrolling through countless media apps to pass the time. His mind wandering back to you. The heat emanating his body contradicted with the cold expression on his face. Why was he so hard to read? You couldn't tell if he was even comfortable with the idea of sharing a bed with you. Your body laid on it's side, staring at him brazenly. Forgetting that your eyes were peering at his body, Leon's gaze averted to you - an eyebrow raised on his face.

"You alright?" His question caught you off guard; no you weren't okay. Not when he was so close to you, the faint smell of him seeping into your senses. You genuinely couldn't be okay in this situation.

"Mhm, m'alright. Just tired." Leon's eyes glanced at you and his eyes shamelessly roamed over your body before he forced himself to look back down at the device in his hand. 'What the hell are you doing?' The question rung in his mind over and over again as he thought about you. There was no denying the fact that he found you incredibly attractive - but for you to be his work partner... It was unprofessional for such thoughts to occur in his mind. Shakily putting down the phone in his grasp he spoke. "You should get some rest, it's getting late."

Like rest was an option. Turning your head towards him, a twinge of irritation was mixed in with your voice. "I know, it's just.. it's hard to sleep right now." The idea of you and him so close was making your head foggy, especially now since he rolled onto his side - discarding his phone on the bedside table. He now faced you, noticing the tone of your voice. Was there something bothering you?

"Why's it hard?" It was starting to click in Leon's head that them sharing a bed may have made you nervous. Scared perhaps. Analysing your expression, he was observant in your body language. A hint of worry trespassed his vision whilst he watched you silently - waiting for you to continue. His head in his hand, inaudibly taking notice of how pretty you look. Completely captivated from your features, he shook his head to clear his mind.

"We're sharing a bed, now I know there's nothing between us but it's just... weird? No offence! Like you're not weird you know that I just-" Realising you were rambling, a heavy sigh left your lips. It was hard trying to compose yourself, particularly because Leon was looking at you. He didn't look confused nor grossed out.. just enamoured. Lovesick eyes boring into yours when he heard you ramble for a moment.

A slight chuckle was brought out from him when you mentioned the closeness between the two of you, a small idea crossed his mind about how your body was mere inches away from his. He swallowed before speaking. "None taken, I get it. Sharing a bed can be kinda intimate huh?" He found it rather cute that you were so antsy. "But I'm glad we have a bed..."

Leon was right, you convinced yourself nothing was weird - staring at the cream coloured ceiling. A light huff was let out of Leon's nose. "Just try and relax," he mumbled, unsure on how to comfort you. Watching you snuggle under the covers, a slight smile spread across his face.

"Cute."

Leon surprised himself that he mumbled it out loud, his body tensing from the fear that reigned his body. Mentally face palming himself, rapidly looking away from you. Reprimanding himself for being so stupid to let it slip out.

After a moment, a lower voice was heard from him. "I mean- Ugh, sorry I didn't mean to make this so awkward." Shifting himself further from you, feeling ashamed of himself - you stop him from almost falling off the bed. "No no, it's fine!" Your efforts of comforting him didn't help him as it was clear he was still embarrassed. Leon's mind kept recalling the scene, shouldered with how attractive you were.

"I meant it." He stated. Leon had no clue where this confidence in him was coming from, but he hoped it wouldn't run out any time soon. The look on your face made him feel less nervous. A shocked expression plastered all over you - stuttering not knowing what to say. He found you to be the prettiest woman he had ever seen, the kindest too. Looking back at it all, he registered all along he had a little thing for you. You respected him, valued his need for privacy and want to be unjudged. Not many knew of his situation and Leon's involvement in Raccoon City. You didn't even know, you never pried.

Shamelessly, a fat smile shone on your face. Leon's expression softened as he found himself in awe. His body itched, craving your touch. Your love. This renowned love blossomed within him.

"You're cute too." That one sentence could make his heart stop if he really went into deep thought about it. Leon never really found himself to be that attractive, yeah his muscles were good in some aspect in his eyes. He did train well, he gave himself that. After all, he was the one many depended on to save the abundance of sick problems this once calm world faced.

Another silence was shared between the two of you - not one of awkwardness but one of solace. Leon didn't feel distressed, he felt calm. You brought out a side of him which he believed was gone. The side being the young man who wasn't scared of the future. A time where he was happy within himself and oblivious. All he could picture was you. You and him happily being each other's bridge.

Each other's home.

"I'm glad we got that out of the way." A breathless voice cut you both out of your trances. Leon flickering his view on you. Your face, those beautiful eyes staring into his own. The soft lips of yours calling out to him. Your bare neck, a blank canvas for his kisses and bites. His eyes then averted to the base of your neck, your chest covered by the black shirt you wore. Feeling his stare, the burning sensation in your cheeks rose. "What... what now?" The scary question was imprinted in your mind. It was obvious you both had a thing for each other, yet what were you going to do about it? Perhaps a relationship could happen between the both of you; would you both just stay work partners?

"Can I.. can I hold you?" Vulnerability was present in Leon's voice. He craved to touch your skin, his fingers twitching slightly from the excitement. Touch starved. That was the true definition of Leon's love life right now. He hadn't involved himself in relationship matters for years and now that the chance popped up with you, he would take what he could get.

You didn't even say yes, your body spoke for you. Wrapping your arms around his chest - you could feel his heartbeat. Rapid pumps thudded into your ear. Strong arms hugged you back clearly stating silently that Leon couldn't let you go. You'd be surprised if his shirt didn't have an imprint of your face since you were so close against him. Breaking free slightly, your head popped up - looking up at him. You were presented with his Adam's apple, slowly bobbing up and down as he swallowed looking down at you. The rough bump alluring you in whilst your hazy eyes lingered on the skin of his neck. Moles sparsely speckled all over his skin. God had crafted Leon himself, you were sure of it.

Moreover, the heat from his body lingered around you. Creating an invisible fortress of affection and love as both of you stared at each other.

A shaky hand pressed against the skin of your cheek, calloused pads caressing you. "You're so pretty." Leon mumbled, shifting a bit. Your touch to him granted him a sense of warmth, he even leaned into it a little - subconsciously seeking comfort. You brought out the 'weak' side of him, it felt nice for him to let down his guard and be himself around you. He let out a pleased hum as he cuddled you, the hold over you was tight. To you, it seemed like he was starved for physical contact and was finally getting the human touch he deserved.

What happened next was a blur, to both of you anyway. The stare-off between his blue eyes and your own turned into your faces being so close together; guaranteed to kiss. An eskimo kiss shared with him, the tips of both your noses touching. Lips hovering over his, your whisper snaps him out of his daze. "Thank you..." Your gratitude granted you a chuckle from Leon but his mind seemed to be elsewhere.

Leon continued to stare at you but to pinpoint, he was eying at your lips. They looked so soft, the mere sight of them making his heart race more. He swallowed hard, his mind clouded with the vision of kissing you. An overwhelming sense of desire passing through him - it was need. But at the same time, he knew he couldn't just go in for a kiss; not without consent. Yet he craved to feel his lips against yours.

"Can I kiss you?" His mumbled whisper echoed through your ears. Were you hearing him correctly?

Kiss? You?

Besides, it's not like you were going to straight out reject him. That wasn't even possible in this situation with him; pressed so close against you that you could feel his rock hard boner pressing against your thigh. A nimble nod from you responding to his question was all he needed.

Leon's lips are soft, softer than you would expect. Sweet little kisses are shared, melting you into him. His hands now run down your back, rubbing your skin through the cotton shirt. He hums, tilting your head slightly back to get a better angle. It feels messy as saliva is shared between the two of you. A soft whine escaping you when Leon breaks away. Reining you back in, he gives you another kiss. Pure passion and love interweaved in it.

Kisses soon turn into touches as your fingers manoeuvre around his torso, slowly digging your fingers into him - eliciting a groan out his mouth. His touch on you becomes possessive, kneading your skin in his hands. Leon holds you close and after a few minutes, you find yourself on his lap. His hands automatically went to your hips, gripping you tight as his eyes locked onto yours. Those blue eyes of his roamed your body shamelessly whilst he held you against him, taking in the view of your straddling his hips.

You could feel the hard-on beneath you, begging for some friction. Subconsciously, your hips start to rock slightly, Leon takes full control as he guides you. There was no way he could stop right now, not with how his body was aching so badly and having you on his lap like this. "Can we take this slow? We're both... really tired." A yawn escapes you mid sentence, you can feel yourself getting tired and wet.

"Yeah, we can take this slow. Anything you want love." The nickname shoots desire right into your veins, the rasp in his voice concocted with a tired sigh as he watches you grind on him is heavenly. Shuddering from his touch, Leon brings you down to lay on him - adjusting you on his lap. Your foreheads touch, all you can see is love in his eyes. Leon's fingers tug on your shirt, a breathless chuckle leaving him before he asks the question. "Can I take this off?" He can't help but want to see you, feel you - caress the smoothness of your skin on the pads of his fingers. Hearing you say the word "yes" made his hands work in a fast fashion as your torso was soon left bare.

"So beautiful..." He sat you back up, feeling your flesh mould in-between his fingers. Leon ached for you, he wanted to have more energy to give you the proper fucking you deserved. However, the past mission and the strain it had on both of your bodies exempted him from treating you the way he wanted. So he had to settle for soft, gentle sex. Just like you wanted.

Rapid breathing contradicted the mellow touches shared between you both, your hips continuously rocking slowly before he lifts you up slightly - removing the same sweatpants that were already dangerously low. You're face to face with his boxers, a clear wet patch showcasing the pre-cum that leaked out of his tip.

"See what you do to me?" Leon groaned out, palming himself slowly - your eyes following his every movement. He was enchanting nonetheless, alluring you in with every pump he did to himself. Leon's mind was fogged with you, the view of you turning every cell in his brain insane. He seriously couldn't get enough of your watchful eyes scanning his hand; viewing the pornographic sight in front of you.

Although once again he did think to make this the best sex he's had in a while, it was obvious you both were too tired to even do anything remotely crazy that night. So plain ole cowgirl it is.

Quick work was made for your sweatpants as they were easily tossed to the floor, your panties being the the second piece of protection between you and Leon's boxers straining his dick in place. His hands guided you still, the subtle movements rocking back on forth bringing both of you a sense of release you both needed. Silken kisses bringing out a wave of passion. Playing with the band of his boxers - a dark look appeared in his gaze.

"Impatient?" The mere one word question could've left you astonished if you weren't so hazy from being aroused. Of course you were impatient. He was the embodiment of seduction. "Well, yeah." A laugh escaped both Leon and you, your eyes boring into his.

"Shouldn't keep you waiting should I?"

Sliding your panties to the side; pulling his boxers down, it was easy for his cock to slide in. Eliciting a deep moan from the both of you as kisses were shared once again. Leon couldn't believe how good you felt, he already felt pussy drunk. The two of you shared tired eyes and low whimpers whilst your hips rocked back and forth.

"You're so pretty..." Leon mumbled out, dazed out of his mind looking at how your body synchronised with his. The way his dick was slipping in and out of you, pressing into that sweet spot of yours. How were you so pretty? And how did you already make such a mess? Glancing down, his eyes followed to the feeling of wetness coating the base of his cock - your inner thighs glistening from how wet you were. Completely mesmerised, Leon looked up at you with pure love and lust.

You couldn't talk, not when all your throat could conjure was the moans and low screams as his hips started to jerk up slightly - thrusting himself further in you. Holding onto the bedframe keeping you both afloat, your mumbles tried to alert him from the upcoming orgasm reaching you. "Mmph... L-Leon, I..." was all you could muster. It was the only coherent thing he could understand before feeling you tighten up.

"That's it baby, keep going." The softness in his voice juxtaposed the way his hips were snapping up and down, Leon couldn't help it. Your pussy felt too good wrapped around him. He had to put in the last of his energy to making you feel good at least. Lazily, his hand slowly reached your clothed clit - his fingers slowly rubbing the fabric of your panties. The perfect amount of friction to make your bundle of nerves become overstimulated whilst being stuffed full.

Your tired eyes locked with his, feeling yourself getting closer to seventh heaven. A small smirk plastered on Leon's face, watching you breathlessly whilst his dick twitched too.

"Gotta pull out..." He murmured, his fingers making you reach the pinnacle of your orgasm. "L-Leon!" All you could do was shudder on-top of him, feeling the remaining energy in you seep out alongside your orgasm. Collapsing onto him, Leon subtly slipped himself out, painting your clit and lower stomach with his cum. A low hum leaving him as he kissed the nape of your neck. "You did so well."

Panting heavily, your moan responded to his words. Chuckling to himself, Leon held you close whilst sitting up. Grabbing a few tissues in the box to wipe your tummy.

"Come on, let's get cleaned up."

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! thank u for reading :)

-> masterlist

[urhoneycombwitch]

#17 from that prompt list about seeing the marks left on their partner and getting turned on has got me all kinds of 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 It feels roommate-eddie coded 👀 especially if they have their no-marks rule, but he just kinda loses control one night.

Then we torture him, walking around showing it off, telling him he can’t touch until he learns some self-control…okay, I’m gonna see myself out…

(most assuredly not @rebelfell sending two asks in a row)

foreword: Sarah I’m being so fr how are you literally in my brain… I had a blurb on this very topic set on the back burner bc I couldn’t find a place for it so here it is spruced up!!! (prompt 17 from this list)

cw: Reader has breasts, visible marks, no skin tone/color mentioned, a wee bit of choking kink, not full smut but mdni as always. oh yeah and biting 😈

___

You can feel the weight of Eddie’s eyes on your form, even as you pretend to be oblivious, leaning into the reflection of the standing mirror in the corner of his bedroom.

A few swipes of your pointer finger and your lipgloss is perfect; with a smack of your lips, you straighten up again, tugging the hem of your tee down to meet the band of your jeans. “Almost ready?”

The friendly smile you turn to give Eddie is met with a glower, his dark brows slanted, a death-grip on both knees where he sits simmering on his bed.

“Did you come in here solely to torture me, or do you have other plans up your vixen sleeves?”

Briefly, your eyes flick to the ceiling as you turn back to your reflection, fussing with your hair to keep your hands busy. “Only plan I got is attending our beloved friend’s barbecue. Which we should’ve left for, like, five minutes ago.”

Eddie huffs. In response, you sigh, landing just-left of condescending. “Not my fault you want to fuck me regardless of what I’m wearing. It’s jeans and a t-shirt, Eddie, I’m basically fit for a nunnery-”

There’s a whoosh of spiced air that wafts over first, chills cascading down your spine made worse as Eddie moves in. His left hand lands on your hip, rooting you to the carpet, while the other tracks up, skirting between the valley of your clothed breasts, your collarbone, your neck…

He takes your chin between thumb and forefinger, silver rings biting cold against your skin as your neck goes lax, baring a long, tantalizing stretch of it as Eddie tilts your face up and to the side.

His lips press to the sweet spot behind your ear, then follows the slope of your neck down, stopping at your shirt’s collar that hides the rest of your skin. From your hip, his hand lifts to pull the fabric aside, revealing a scattered canvas of suck marks and teeth imprints that grace the top of your shoulder.

“You really gonna show up with these? Make all our friends wonder who’s been marking you up?”

Eddie’s voice is low, but you’d be a fool to mistake it for softness.

Another shiver licks along the length of your body, and this time Eddie feels it; he presses in closer, hand sliding from your chin to hold just under your jaw as he meets your fluttering eyes in the mirror.

“What’re you gonna say, hm? If Robin asks where they came from? If Steve makes a jock-y comment? If you get teased?”

It’s not like you haven’t been in this situation before- attending events with mutual friends, having to act like your roommate hasn’t been the one checking all your boxes, making up excuses for being late or looking like someone had been using your body as their personal chew toy.

You’ve always made excuses- pretty seamless ones, if anyone’s counting. You don’t even try to squirm away when you respond, swallowing around the light pressure at your throat- “I’ll tell them what I always do. Blind date hookup, one night stand, my dentist’s cousin’s friend that I’ll never see again-”

Eddie bites into the soft flesh of your upper shoulder, hard, free arm wrapping around your midsection like a seatbelt while his other elbow digs into your chest, hand still wrapped around the column of your throat.

The air leaves your lungs in a rush, white-hot adrenaline surging with the sting of the bite, body stiffening against the restraints of Eddie’s arms as you grit out, “Asshole!”

It sounds too whiny and pleasure-soaked to cause any real alarm, Eddie grinning into the curve of your skin (bastard) before tsking, kissing over the thumping mark in partial apology. “Mm. I think you like it. I think you get off on parading our little secret around the poor folks who don’t know any better-”

“As if you don’t.” Eddie may be the one doing most of the biting but you’ve got the bark to match, glaring furiously at the reflection of his maddeningly-cool black-caramel gaze, even as the pressure on your windpipe increases with a minute flex of his palm.

“Yeah. Y’got me there, princess.” His eyes flit across your exposed skin, like he’s trying to memorize all the shades and colors of you combined with the wreckage of his handiwork. “Maybe you should cover up some more. So it’s just you ‘n me who knows what’s under here.”

The cotton collar snaps back into place, covering almost all the evidence (save for the tail end of a day-old scraped hickey). Eddie releases your jaw and takes a step back, the warmth leaving your body all at once, frozen where you stand until sense returns.

You clear your throat before speaking, irritation prickling as you set to fixing your hair again from where Eddie’s interruption had stalled. “Whatever. Fine. But I’m only changing because it’s gonna be cold later, and a long sleeve will be better- not because you told me to.”

“Fine.” Eddie adopts a neutral tone as he settles back onto the mattress with a bounce, tugging absently at the inseam of his dark jeans to relieve some of the mounting tightness. “Have it your way.”

“I will,” you snap back, turning from the mirror on a socked heel, pointing an accusatory finger at the boy on the bed. “And you better have your boots on by the time I’m changed.”

With that, you flounce from Eddie’s room in search of a more conservative neckline, while Eddie pouts and pretends to have the will to disobey you for all of five seconds.

And then he’s up, trudging to the bureau reluctantly to source a pair of socks while scheming for the perfect excuse to take you both on the extra-long route to the barbecue.

[lilylovestowrite]

TO NURTURE GROWTH ୨♡୧

PAIRING ୨♡୧ Al Haitham x AFAB! Reader

WARNINGS ୨♡୧ Degradation, fingering, mentions of bondage, dirty talk, spanking MDNI

SYNOPSIS ୨♡୧ Al Haitham finds a new way to help you revise for your exam

WORD COUNT ୨♡୧ 2.6k (Doctor, you're huge)

A/N ୨♡୧ I believe I've crossposted this in the past, don't worry, if you've seen it on Wattpad, it's still me! I just lost my password.

Divider by @/cafekitsune

“Focus.” 

Al Haitham picks up a pointer rod left in the lecture hall of the Akademiya and extends it. You don’t peer up at him, already averting your gaze in pure trepidation in meeting his sneering eyes. You hear his footsteps cease. The aroma of his cologne, surprisingly light and floral, similar to your own perfume, the scent of Sumeru roses, mix and the smell is so strong it makes you shiver slightly. “If you have time to daydream, I’m sure you can memorise that entire page.” He scolds you, his voice sounds authoritative but you can detect the traces of sadism. However, pointing out his enjoyment would only put you in  a worse position. 

The sunlight bleeds through the skylight above you, the architecture of the Akademiya so intricately planned out so that every inch of the classroom is kissed by the glorious splendour of light. The golden haze that illuminates the ivory marble and desks still do not manage to vanquish the looming tension that builds up between you. You’re starting to regret asking Al Haitham, your classmate, to tutor you in biology. He only accepted on the terms that you participate in an experiment he’s conducting. Al Haitham is constantly trying to pester you, intentionally getting under your skin using harsh words and even striking your hands with a ruler (albeit gently) to see how you react and then scribbling it down on a damned notepad.

Silence permeates across the lecture hall, plants decorating the lecture hall and the flowers act as jewels that make the resplendence of the Akademiya just that more defined. The lack of noise makes you nervous, as you should expect some type of demeaning comment by now. Instead, you yelp as he trails the rod he stole from the lecturer’s podium down your shirt. The contrast of the scorching sunlight and the cool metal touching your bare back and trailing up to your neck makes you jolt and sit straighter. “Your back is going to suffer if you stay hunched over like that. Don’t frown at me, I’m helping you out.” He chides, not concealing even a drop of the demeaning nature that floods his very manner of speaking. “Now, why don’t you tell me about the difference between plant cells in elemental blossoms and natural ones?” 

“The elemental blossoms are more likely to react to elemental reactions and they-” Your speech is cut off by a slightly stingy strike to your thighs with the rod. “Al Haitham! Don’t you think you’re abusing your power here? You can’t just discipline me without reason!” You exclaim, standing up and accidentally swiping your textbook off your desk. 

Al Haitham chuckles softly, “Without reason? Silly thing, the Akademiya exams are very precise with their words. Elemental blossoms are more ‘susceptible’ to elemental reactions compared to natural blossoms. Not only do you have to have the word ‘susceptible’, you also have to add the comparison to natural blossoms. You would have known that if you read the highlighted box. It’s highlighted for a-”

You’re about to storm out of the lecture hall until you hear a very stern, “Hey.” Out of instinct, you turn back. Al Haitham’s eyes catch the sunlight and the sheen makes the shades that paint his pupils much more translucent. His lean body leans against your desk and one of his fingers beckons you in a ‘come hither’ motion. “We’re not finished here. Pick up your textbook and sit down before I make you. Obviously this method isn’t working.” He quickly writes down something on his notepad as you meekly pick it up, fearful of the scribe’s wrath. 

“Now, instead of discipline, I’m going to try rewarding you. I might get a little up close and personal, but if you’re uncomfortable, you’re free to up and leave. Alright?” You sit down and scoff. His rewards must consist of lighter strikes across the palm or a limit of three adjectives to describe your incompetence per insult. Nevertheless, you’re enraptured by the scribe’s effortless charisma and find yourself agreeing. 

“Why not tell me about the effect of fertiliser containing a higher nitrate concentration on elemental plant yield?” 

“W-well first they increase exponentially, but they deteriorate faster because elemental blooms are not necessarily as long lived as natural blooms and are more sensitive to elemental weathering from the wind.” You wait for the strike, but instead you feel dread flip your stomach over as he approaches. 

“Good girl. Just one little thing, instead of saying that they live longer, I would say longer ‘lifespan’, seeing as the marking scheme would penalise you for using any other terminology.” His breath is right next to your ears as he leans over your desk to correct you. With tenderness in his touch, he unravels your fingers from the quill in your hands to circle ‘longer lifespan’ in the textbook. “You also study mathematics, right? They’re not so needlessly obsessed with definition, so I can understand your confusion. But I see the flashcards you’ve made, all you have to do is memorise them and you’ll be set.” He then threads his fingers through your hair, hitting a spot on the back of your head that makes you lean into his touch subconsciously. 

As you continue reading and muttering definitions to memorise them, Al Haitham praises you and smiles as you recite the pros and cons of using different types of fertilisers for various types of plants. The class, genus, and species rattle off your tongue with a newfound fluency aided by the sweet pecks to your cheeks and forehead. The Akademiya’s cream hued marble glistens under the moonlight by the time you yawn from exhaustion. You’re sitting on Al Haitham’s lap now. After you scored a high mark on a mock test he complied, he gently lifted you onto his lap and encouraged you by rubbing circles on your waist. You stretch after yawning and throw your head back into his chest by accident whilst you do so. He giggles softly and you feel his veiny and calloused hands rub your thighs, soothing the place he hit before. 

“Come on, just a few more for me, darling. I might give the rest of your body attention too if you succeed…” 

“Why so tense?” He runs his hands along your thighs and you jolt in his lap. “It’s not good for students like us to have bad physique. I’m sure I can find time to massage you.” Your hands tremble, nearly scattering flashcards all over the floor. 

You’re cranky. Irritated. Absolutely ticked off. Al Haitham had promised to give your body attention and even brought you to his house. But currently, you’re on his lap, as he lies on the couch, playing with you. 

“Al Haitham, I’m trying to concentrate.” You hiss at him, pissed. He’s set up this whole experiment, scolded you to your wits end, and now he’s trying to praise you? 

“You’re so obsessed with my focus, so surely you won’t mind if I ignore you for a bit?” You smirk up at him, and his brow twitches. He should look quite irked, but instead a rather competitive glare shuts you up and makes you recite the contents of the flashcards out loud. Warmth radiates from his body. And your body, naturally cold, merges into his comfort. But you’re not sure if it’s the scent of silk flowers from the burning incense in the corner, or Al Haitham’s hypnotic light perfume. 

“Oh, go ahead,” His hands grip your thighs and squeeze them together, “Ignore me.” The silk of his gloves slid across your skin, and his calloused hands stroke the skin just two inches below your pelvis. You try to peel his hands off your thighs, but even both of your hands cannot move his singular arm. Al Haitham pretends like you aren’t struggling in his grasp, and he starts kissing along your neck. “Darling, you’re not focusing.” He murmurs in between ticklish pecks that only make you squirm in his embrace even more. You only hope his hands grabbing your hips and thighs don’t accidentally brush across your crotch, where the effect he has on you is alarmingly stark. You can’t hold in the tiny moan that slips from your mouth when he kisses a certain spot on the expanse of your skin now glazed by the sheen of the moonlight.

“Cute…” He cooes and continues to kiss that spot until a red mark blooms on your skin, resembling a rose petal. “I’m obsessed with your focus, right? So, what are you doing, making all of these lewd noises instead of studying?”

“You’re distracting me,” You whine, slamming your fists on the desk in front of you with not enough force, because Al Haitham barely flinches. 

A devious glint in his eye makes you jolt, however. “Then do you want me to be mean again? I’m trying to help you learn, and if it means I have to coax you, I will. In fact, not another word from you, I think I know the solution to this. Bend over my lap.”

“Sorry?” You gawk as he waits for you to arrange yourself on his lap, “You want me to what?” 

Displeased with your indingance, he grabs your face and squeezes your cheeks, but gently enough that you don’t feel any pain. “Bend over. We’re going to do some active recall. Since you’ve worked so hard, I’m sure you’ll pass with flying colours.” The previous warmth his voice possessed has left his voice and he regresses back to his deadpan drawl. 

With that, you awkwardly drape yourself across his lap and he gives you a pillow cushion to rest your upper body on. When you sink your face in it, the material is both firm and soft. He takes off your pants, and you try to sit up so he doesn’t spot the wet spot on your panties. But Al Haitham uses one hand to force your head down into the pillow once more, muffling your protests. He soothes his hands across your bare ass, and you squeeze your thighs in anticipation.

“Now, how can withering zones be neutralised?” He asks, calloused hands running up and down your skin.

“The dendrograna secretes substrates that inhibit the enzymes of the withering zone.” You feel heat massage your entire body, chills making you jolt in the colder Sumeru nights. 

“Good, now what type of inhibition is it? Competitive or non-competitive?” His voice is dusted with honeyed lust, causing him to draw out his vowels that bit more. 

“Competitive?” Your head whizzes with lust the vivid shade of the red apples by the bedside table. 

“Oh dear, it’s non-competitive.” He stops rubbing your ass and strikes it instead. You yelp and squeeze the pillow. You look up from behind him to protest and have him do something less… mean. With humiliation written all over your face you open your mouth, but the sensual authoritative gaze in Al Haitham’s eyes, all the shades of the sky, keep you in your position like gossamer bonds.  

“Which plant may act as an aphrodisiac if burned in an incense?” 

You know this answer, but somehow, whatever has been encoded into your long term memory has completely vanished. The tantalising voice and hands pinching your behind urging you to answer dominate your senses. “Is it… silk flower?” Your voice trickles with uncertainty, the cadence of your voice raising ever so slightly, much like the brow of your tutor.

“What type?” Al Haitham plays with the ribbon hem of your panties, a laugh playing on his lips. “Nice frills, by the way.” You bury your face further in the pillow to hide your embarrassment at your childish, frilly, panties. But you know it’s a ploy to distract you and get you to say the wrong answer. 

“The non-mutant silk flowers, which is why they’re harvested in Liyue and ground up to make ointment paste.” Comes your reply, and a hand comes up to pet your head.

“What a good girl, I’ll give you an easier question. Who does this ass belong to?” His gentle voice coaxes you to an answer as he plays with your hair. 

A cheeky streak compels you, as sudden as a lightning strike and just as impossible to dodge as the snaky answer leaves your lips, “Me.” 

He doesn’t stop massaging your scalp, but you can hear the snarl and feel the atmosphere bind you. The air rises and expands in the heat, and although the clear skies of the city are cool, the pleasure keeps you resting in his lap in heat. “Incorrect.” He delivers three successive slaps to your ass. You yelp with each one, not painful, but unexpected and sharp. Vibrations oscillating from the flesh of your ass reverberates to your vagina, making you squirm. He holds you still by the hips and spanks you more. “Come on, correct your mistakes.”

“N-ngh, sorry- It’s yours! It’s yours!” You squeal, kicking your legs until his hand moves to carefully place them back down. The soft material of his pants carrying the heat of his body contrasts with the cool silk of his bedsheets.

“That’s right. I gave you a reward, and you foolishly try to rebel. I guess I have to be mean to you. I think that’s how you’ll learn your lesson.” He grins, lowering your underwear down your legs, and snickering when a string of dewy fluid stretches and snaps with the fabric as it loses contact with your flower, coated in sheen. “Already? I’ve barely started, and you’re already this wet. You’re way too needy. I guess this is what happens when you keep reading those filthy novels instead of educational textbooks.” You whimper in embarrassment, your voice is muffled by the pillow when you shyly enquire where he got that information. 

“Well, you see, I did see you at the bookstore multiple times. Don’t be too downcast, I think that ‘The Emperor’s Flower’ was very well written. I don’t read textbooks exclusively, you know, I happen to have similar tastes.” Al Haitham props your ass up further to spread your folds and graze your clit with a single finger. “I especially liked some of the scenes where the poor, sweet, heroine was edged and teased until she begged and sobbed. Should I make the same mess out of you, my helpless angel?” You can only moan, offering more of you to him as he rubs your most sensitive spot. 

“I think you like this. I think you enjoy it when I’m mean to you, right? I can see you clench over nothing when I tell you how pathetic you are.” He hums when you moan out an agreement, “That’s it, just let yourself go. I’m putting my fingers in, is that alright?”

You explicitly say yes, and he proceeds to plunge right in. Careful not to hurt you, he explores you so gently yet precisely, he finds your g-spot with only one or two pointers. He softly thanks you before striking up a brutal pace. 

“Ah- AH Haitham! Sl-slow down please!” 

“I’m just testing your limits, you know what to say if you want me to stop.” He keeps massaging the same spot, whilst his other hand occupies your clit. He goes faster as you writhe in overwhelming pleasure. “Stop squirming, I’m going to tie you up next time.” You burn in humiliation as he feels you clench momentarily. 

“Oh? You like being tied up? I thought so. You’re in luck, Kaveh has an infatuation of silk ribbons from Fontaine. I think you would look good all tied in light blue ribbon.” Your climax is fast approaching as he coaxes you and degrades you and praises you with such filthy yet elegance, and as you’re about to fall apart, he halts. 

“Wh-why?” You can only sob, but the clanking of his belt is music to your ears as he presses up against you. The aroma of his cologne mixes with your arousal, and you press back up against him. 

“I’m only trying to help. I’ll be gentle, but only because this is our first lesson…”

[malfunctioningspray]

When You Are Sick pt.1

(Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan)

Just wanted to write some fluff for each of the brothers. hope you enjoy!

Trigger Warning: mention of puking, fainting, overworking, etc

If any triggers have not been listed but are found, please let me know so I can correct the warning. I apologize for the inconvenience beforehand.

----------------------------------

Lucifer

Despite his usual awareness of his surrounding, due to the fact he throws themself at work, he would be one of the last of the brothers to realize you were sick.

it wasn't only until he left his study to check up on you that he noticed how paled you looked.

immediately puts you to bed if you are wondering the house

will order one of his brothers to make some soup to make you feel better, not wanting to leave your side.

whispers words of love to you

will refrain of giving you kisses to avoid getting sick himself (man still had a shit ton of work to do)

Lucifer instead, kisses his pointer and middle finger and place it over your lips after you drift off to sleep.

"It's okay my love, I'll take care of you..."

Mammon

With how cling he his, Mammon noticed immediately when you started feeling bad.

it started off slow, coughing, sniffling

would get concerned really quick, and you are not even that sick yet.

usually, due to his concern, you wouldn't even get too bad. instead getting better instantly and going about your week

but sometimes not even a loving bf demon's care can combat the unique illness you can get in the demon realm

when you do get really sick, mammon wouldn't care about his own health, sticking to you and giving you many kisses

unlike Lucifer, mammon would feel the need to take care of you personally, rejecting any help from his brothers.

though he wouldn't like to, he would leave your side for small amounts of time to prepare you soup and medicine

and by soup, I mean he'll just reheat canned soup

"What would you do without the Great Mammon? Don't worry, I got you"

Leviathan

let's be honest, this man is probably the one who gets sick the most among his brothers.

he becomes kind of like a grandma, where he'll pull out weird home remedies that strangely does work wonders

he doesn't bat an eye when it comes to your puking or snot. Will stand there and hold your hair back (if you have long hair) or will help clean up if you couldn't make it to the toilet.

and this isn't to say he isn't panicking; no man is stressing.

whenever he does try to help, he does run the chance of dropping bowls of soup or being too loud and disturbing your sleep.

if he was sick before you, he'll blame himself, refusing to go into your room in fear that he'll make you feel even worse.

though if you were sick and then he got sick, he's moving you into his room

constantly attached to you, sharing food, the both of you are under the covers nice and warm and playing games day and night.

he won't admit it, since it sounds so bad out loud, but he loves being sick with you

"it'll pass over soon mc, I'll stay by your side."

Satan

I feel Satan would be the kind to romanticize being sick

bringing you flowers, rubbing your feet, reading you books as you drift to sleep

when he takes care of you, he's the only one to take care of you

can't handle the stress and anger he gets from his brothers meddling

he looks up different recipes that'll help you feel better, especially if you're from a different culture, he'll find that's culture equivalent to chicken noodle soup.

he wouldn't feel the need to stay by your side like some of his brothers, but he does make the same effort to check up on you

he mostly appears when you are asleep, not to be creepy, but to ensure you are surviving through the night

out of his brothers, I feel he worries too much about you since you are human, he reads so much about humans that he'll end up the rabbit hole

with the stories he's read, he has the idea that sleeping while sick is the deadliest thing for a human to do since they can just pass in their sleep

He'll definitely drag you to the doctors if you don't get better within a day, thinking its smallpox or Ebola

"How about a story to help drift off to sleep?"

[smusherina]

bridges burnt - chapter 1 [epilogue series] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: When an invitation to Gretchen Wieners' wedding ended up in your mailbox, you'd been sure it was a mistake. Only, it read your name in neat, swoopy calligraphy. It was addressed to you. And Regina George, whom you hadn't spoken to in years.

additional clarification: This is set in the universe of yard work, a series of mine that can be found on my page! Reading this one might be a bit challenging without the context of the series :)

very necessary note: Okay, fuck, it was supposed to be a one shot. Then I got excited. So have another freakin' Regina George series. Set in the same universe as yard work! Reading that provides some essential context, but you do you! I don't think it's unreadable without it. chapter 2

You adjusted your tie for perhaps the millionth time. It was a silky blue, befitting your navy suit. You fiddled with your cufflinks, silver like all your accessories, then pulled out the baby blue handkerchief to wipe down your glasses, then folded it pack into your pocket, then bent to redo your laces, then-

"For fuck's sake, the ceremony hasn't even started yet!" Amanda nudged you violently.

"Ow!" You hissed, elbowing her back. She slapped your knee, hard.

"Get yourself together." She glowered, pointing a manicured finger at your nose. "It's worse enough I have to be here at all. You're not gonna ruin this for me."

"You're here for the open bar and free food. I paid for the flights, the room, the car." You bit back. "I'm allowed to be nervous."

"There's nervous, then there's this." Amanda looked you up and down pointedly, noting your bouncing knee.

You squeezed at said knee, trying to calm down. Like you'd been trying to do since hours ago. No results so far.

"Look, buddy, it's just a wedding. You don't even really know her. I get you... Have a history with the bride, or whatever, but it's gonna be so fine."

"It's not Gretchen I'm worried about." You mumbled.

"Whoever. It's gonna be fine." Amanda said, flippant as ever. How she was so carefree all the time was mind-boggling to you.

"This place is filled with people from high school. God." You looked around. "That guy over there, don't look, with the receding hairline- I said don't look!"

"Be more specific, every man here has a receding hairline. The demographic is excruciatingly pallid."

"Shut up, girl," You shook your head but couldn't help but laugh. It was mostly white people here. "The one with the wife that looks exactly like him, unbelievably blonde, kinda mousy," You waited for her eyes to latch onto the man you were talking about. "He used to buy weed from me, like, every week, and then went around spreading rumours about me."

"Ungrateful." Amanda scoffed. "And look at him, a wife, child, and probably a 401k. That's how it goes for boys like them."

"Yeah." You sighed. "How's the salon doing, by the way?"

"Thriving. Thanks to you. But I worked my ass off." You lifted your arms in surrender. She had worked hard to keep the place afloat for as long as she had, so even if you hadn't invested she would've found a way.

Amanda cast you a meaningful look. "You're doing better than ever, aren't you? Financially speaking. How's everything else?"

"Well, y'know..." You shrugged. "It's complicated." You looked down. Amanda patted your knee, a sympathetic smile on her face.

"You got a nice suit, though." She pointed out.

"Oh, for sure. Look at these, custom cufflinks." You showed off the silver bits. "Do you think these rings are too much?"

"Don't you usually have an ungodly amount of them on?"

"I usually just have these three." On your right pinky was your Engineer's Ring. On your left thumb was an embroidered steel band and on the pointer of that same hand a ring with a big emerald embedded in a bed of crystals.

"It's not too much." Amanda took your hand and inspected the rings. "More like sexy." She grinned at you, all sorts of innuendo right on display.

You scoffed and turned towards the altar. The pews were getting fuller by the minute. You were sitting far enough from the front to show you weren't important but not too far as to hint you didn't want to be there. You were on the bride's side, though it didn't matter much. You didn't know Gretchen any better than her husband-to-be.

Amanda had come with you for moral support. You'd been roommates in college and you hadn't been able to shake her off since. She'd grown on you, though you often acted more begrudged than you felt. She'd helped you out a lot over the years.

She'd been there when you couldn't leave the dorms, trapped in the vicious clutches of paranoia. She'd been there helping you get back on your feet when dad's businesses started going, one by one, each more explosive than the last. She was there when you moved back to that little town in Illinois, where Northshore still stood.

You liked to think you'd been equally as integral to her, but that was perhaps a reach. She was fiercely independent, resourceful, and charming enough to make friends with anyone. When the first chance to help her came, you didn't hesitate to take it. She'd opened up her salon right after graduation, staying in New York while you moved back home, and had been doing well until now. Unexpected costs and a wicked plumbing bill had landed her in some hot water.

For the small price of one favour and eternal bragging rights, you'd shoved your newly acquired wealth at her. Dragging her to Vermont in October to attend Gretchen's wedding was you cashing in on that favour.

Eventually, the proceedings began. The groom and his men walked in with little fanfare, mild music playing as they went. Most faces you did not recognize, but there was one back of the head that seemed eerily familiar.

The groom, a classically handsome man, a boring prince type, went to stand at the altar. He had an expectant glimmer in his eye. At least Gretchen's taste in men had improved. Then again, anything beat the scrubs she'd used to keep around.

Behind the groom, his line of groomsmen settled, the best man fronting the crowd. The man of the hour was in a classic black tux while the others flanking him were dressed in different shades of brown. The whole shebang was sort of beige with a little bit of burnt orange thrown in. Amidst the shades of umber, russet, and sepia, stood a familiar face.

Aaron Samuels. You didn't have much time to agonize about him being here before the bridesmaids were stepping through the aisle. Similar dresses but in lighter shades, clearly made to match a certain groomsman. You didn't recognize any of them.

The maid of honour was a little odd. Her makeup seemed to be a lot thicker on one side, like there were several layers of foundation caked on. Her eye makeup on that side was a little heavy also, but she was past you by the time you could wonder why.

"The maid of honour totally has a black eye," Amanda whispered to you.

"No way," You hissed back, trying to get an angle where you could see her face. As she settled in place, facing the pews, even moderately far away you could see that, yeah, she totally was covering up a black eye. Wild bachelorette party, then.

Coos and aws resounded through the church as the flower girl and the ring bearer came toddling down. A little girl, cheeks all red, and looking like she wanted to be anywhere else, and a slightly older boy with an almost manic look in his eye. The girl was in no mood to be tossing petals, so the boy reached into her basket and threw a big fistful of them in the air. The rings rolled off of their pillow but found their way back.

"Oops," The boy said, smiling sheepishly right as the photographer came in to capture the moment. Chuckles echoed through the space.

By the time they reached the end of the aisle, the little girl was dutifully carrying the pillow on which the rings were and the boy was joyously tossing flower petals everywhere. As god intended.

Then came the bride. Escorted by her father, who was beaming with a mouth full of veneers, Gretchen Wieners made her appearance.

It wasn't disappointment that you felt. Not relief, either. It was hard to describe. You'd been expecting anger or some catharsis. This was the person who'd outed you to your whole school, who'd been the catalyst to the worst year of your life, why didn't you feel more?

High school had been over for almost ten years. You carried scars, deep ones that still ached on bad days but at the end of the day, they were just scars. You were doing better than ever. Gretchen had been a bully, had brought you to ruin once upon a time, but who was to say it couldn't all be built again?

You smiled. She looked beautiful. A white dress, a long veil, hair done big, bigger and more grandiose than you'd ever seen, and looking like, well, a bride.

You'd moved on. Considering how she'd invited you too, and knowing Gretchen she was acutely aware of every person in attendance, she had moved on too. You could recognize an olive branch when one was given to you.

That didn't explain the invitation, though. Maybe it was a mistake. Gretchen wasn't known for making those, but she was human too. Right?

"Look, they're totally enthralled by each other. You're gonna be fine." Amanda whispered, ignoring the elderly lady seated next to her shooting daggers through her eyes at you two.

"Yeah. It's gonna be fine."

Notes: Got really ill at the beginning of this week, which delayed this chapter quite a bit. You don't realize quite how awesome breathing is until you can't do it properly. Getting better slowly, it's nothing serious, but the cough is lingering. It is what it is.

This chapter was mostly setting up the narrative, no Reggie and Jorts interactions as of yet. I'm not making any promises because I'm so shit at keeping them, but hoping that this series will be shorter than the original one.

Taglist posted seperately!

[dira333]

To those who've been burnt - Shinsou x Reader

Request by @bookishgalaxies - I wrote by vibes only, so I hope you'll like it

“What do boys like?” You ask, staring at the foam on top of your hot chocolate. 

Lately, your Instagram feed has been full of cute latte art pics, of hearts and cats and love confession drawn into the milky froth. But this is real life and your hot chocolate doesn’t even get a dusting of chocolate powder.

“Huh?” Hitoshi asks, almost drowning in his drink. You don’t have to ask to know what he got, bribed the barista to make it despite all common sense. He always gets too many extra shots of espresso.

“Girls like to get flowers. Or cute little trinkets. What do boys like? You know, as random presents?”

“Boys like flowers too,” He says and pushes his plate toward you. “Can you peel my orange?”

“Sure.” You dig your nails into it, feel warmth rising up your spine as you notice how he’s watching you, the movement of your fingers, doesn’t miss the little gasp you take when you manage to squirt orange juice into your face. 

When you drop the first slice into his waiting palm you know you’re already a little more than just friends.

-

“Hey,” Hitoshi knocks against the frame of your door, leans against it as if it’s the only thing keeping him up at the late hour of nine in the morning. “Did you put those flowers on my desk?”

“What?” You look up from this week's report, your cheeks no doubt creased from how heavy your head has rested on your hands. “Oh, yeah, that was me.”

There’s the softest hint of a blush on his cheeks as he opens his mouth again.

“Why, though?”

“They reminded me of you.”

-

“Come on,” Hitoshi pulls you a little closer, “Don’t fall asleep.”

“ButI’msotired,” you mumble groggily. If only coffee tasted better and Energy Drinks didn’t come carbonated. You’d take the world by storm.

“Here.” His hands are warm against your ears. Seconds later the sounds of late-night travel are muffled, from the chewing of the person to your left to the chatter of the school girls opposite to you. You raise your hands to find that he’s put his headphones over your ears. 

Before you can ask about it, Hitoshi presses play on his phone.

You recognize the song immediately, the upbeat tempo making you move your shoulders on instinct until you’re bobbing up and down in your seat, dancing along without ever getting up.

Hitoshi’s grinning into his scarf by the time the song’s ending and you knock your head into his.

“You did that on purpose!” You hiss, probably louder than you’ve wanted to. He just shrugs and presses play on the next one.

-

“Are you free this weekend?”

You look up from the water cooler, fully expecting to witness the newest scoop of office gossip. Instead, you’re now directly facing Hiro, the agency's newest Sidekick.

And he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for an answer.

“I’m busy,” you say, but you’ve never been good at lying. Your quirk makes it even worse. 

“Is it because I’m a colleague?” Hiro’s leaning on the water cooler now, showing off the impressive biceps you’ve heard the other accountants swoon about.

No, you want to say. It’s because I have a crush on the guy who’s more than your best friend but never outright made clear if you were dating. And you went along with it, knowing it would happen eventually. But can you say that you have a boyfriend or would that be too forward?

“Hello?” Hiro taps your temple with his pointer finger. “Are you still in there?”

“Uh, yeah. I- I’m not interested.” There. The truth, plain and simple.

“Oh, okay.” Hiro pushes himself away from the water cooler. “But if you change your mind-”

“I know where to find you,” you joke, noticing only now that Hitoshi’s leaning in the door to his office, arms crossed over his chest. Oh. 

-

“Hey,” Hitoshi stops in front of your apartment building.

Neither of you have addressed the topic at hand. And you don’t think it will happen soon.

You’re fine with that, you really are. You don’t need him to confirm something you already know. Not when he’s holding your hand right now, not when there’s a bouquet from him on your kitchen table right now. So maybe he needs a little more time to put into words what already exists. You’ve always known him to take a little longer to trust reality. That’s just a thing that happens to people who got burned before.

“Hey,” you say back, lean your head against his shoulder. “Do you wanna come up?”

He does not answer, instead he stretches out his hand and draws something onto the dirty rear window of a parked car with his finger.

When you lean over to see, he pushes you away with a tsk. 

“Let me finish first,” he mumbles softly and you giggle, wait until he stops resisting.

There, painted into the dirt, is a little heart, filled with your Initials.

“Are you sure about that?” You ask, “That’s mighty official. This will probably stay on here for the rest of time.”

“I’m fine with that,” he says and taps your nose with the dirty finger, chuckles as you pull away in disgust.

-

In the morning, you’ll draw a heart onto the fogged up mirror.

You’ll hold his hand on the morning commute. Hitoshi will pretend not to notice when you slip your Ipod into his bag, prepped with a playlist just for him.

He’ll pick you up for lunch, hand on the small of your back as you find the most secluded part of the cafeteria.

When the lunch lady asks if you’re dating, you’ll both smile instead of answering and she’ll coo and put a little more meat on both of your plates.

And when Hitoshi and Hiro get paired up for afternoon patrol, Hitoshi will pull him to the side real quick and tell him, calmly but not without warning, that you are his girlfriend.

Join My Taglist

[loverofallthingssarah]

no more runnin’

part 3

melissa schemmenti x reader

summary: you’re hiding, you’re running. melissa finds you and your daughter and helps bring you both back to life.

warning: angst

word count: 1.1k

part 1 part 2

a/n: i'm sorry if there are any spelling errors or grammatical errors.

Melissa takes off running down the hallway and out the front door, and in an instant you were gone.  No cars left in the parking lot but her own. Frustration hit with a slew of curse words flying out of her mouth.  Why couldn’t she listen to Barbara?  Why couldn’t she just leave things alone? 

Melissa takes out her cell phone and dials a number that is engraved in her muscle memory.

“Hey, Barb.  I think I really fucked up…”

You were fighting tears. You had to finally pull over on the side of the road before your vision got too blurry.  Acey was sitting in the back of the car in her booster seat watching her mother break down before her very eyes.  You usually kept this part of you hidden behind closed doors.  Not wanting your daughter to see your vulnerability because you had to be strong for both of you. Carefully, your daughter unbuckled her seatbelt and crawled her way up into the front of the car.  You tried to steady your breathing but found it hard as your daughter wrapped her arms around you.

“It’s gonna be okay, mommy.” she hugged you as tight as she possibly could.  

You wrap your hands around you daughter, “I l-love you, little m-monster.”  

She wiped your tears, “Mommy its time for you to make friends.  My teacher likes you. How can she not? You’re the best mommy in the whole wide world!”  

You chuckle to yourself wondering how you got so lucky to have a smart little girl who mirrored her mothers actions and pet talks knowing that you couldn’t argue against your own words.  

“I wish it were that simple, baby.  But I hear you.” you give her a kiss on her temple. “Now how about you crawl back into your seat and we go pick up some pizza for dinner?”

Two weeks had gone and passed with no contact between you both.  You had Acey walk into the school herself and back out at the end of the day, because you were bound and determined to avoid Melissa at all costs.  You could feel your walls breaking down and avoiding her had to be the glue that tried to hold them back together.

Melissa on the other hands was not having it anymore.  Everyday when Acey walked into her classroom since your last meeting with no one behind her frustrated Melissa to no end.  

Today was even worse because you kept Acey home from school for the last three days, and it was the straw that broke the camels back.  Not being able to see you was one thing, but not being able to see Acey was another. Melissa knew she was going to have to break some rules to be able to see you again and she had the perfect idea to do just that.  

“Pipsqueak!” Melissa yelled down the hallway and Janine came running to sound of her voice.  

“Yes, Melissa?” Janine questioned.

“Can you take my class with yours down to art? I have some business I need to take care of.”

Janine nodded and looked at her coworker suspiciously, but knowing better than to question her actions. 

“Come on kids! Who is excited for art?”

Melissa slips past Janine and makes her way to the front office. She slips past Ashley which isn’t hard because she is literally sleeping on the job.  Ava is doing a tiktok dance in front of her ring light, “body ody ody ody” now forever engrained in Melissa’s head.  “Ava, Jacob is in the breakroom saying that you would be the last to be eaten by a zombie because he is hotter than you.”

Ava snatches her phone as she makes her way out of her office, “Oh hell naw.”

Melissa smirks to herself ‘piece of cake’.  She starts looking through Ava’s file cabinet, her fingers strumming through file by file until her pointer finger lands on a file labeled Hadley, Acey. Quickly snatching it out of it’s place, Melissa starts flipping throught the pages until she lands on the one she is looking for.

“Tsk, tsk,” Melissa all but jumps out her skin.

“Barb! You scared the hell out me. What are you doing?”

Barbara makes her way around the desk and looks at the file within her hands, “Melissa, what do you think you’re dong?”

“I have to.  She won’t talk to me or even come in the school anymore.  I need to talk to her.”

“Why are you doing all of this for a woman you barely know?” Barbara questions.

“I wish I had an answer that makes sense.  There is something about Y/N that I am drawn too and I know she is drawn to me too,” she smiles to herself, “The way she crinkles her nose when I give her compliment.  The way she always gets excited when listening to her daughter talk about literally anything.  She is kind to every single person that I have seen her interact with at this school, even Janine’s annoying ass. I can tell her favorite color is yellow, because every pair of scrubs she wears has a yellow stitching as well as the laces of her tennis shoes.  She has this birth mark on her wrist that is shaped kind of like a flower and when I bring it up she blushes and subconsciously rubs her thumb across.” Melissa looks up a Barbara and sighs, “She is the most beautiful person that I know nothing about yet I feel like I know everything about. I can’t explain it, but I don’t want to give up without a fight.  I have to show her I care and I’m going to be here no matter what or how long it takes.” Melissa finished and Barbara - albeit doesnt understand - nods her head in reliance that she knows Melissa wouldn’t do all of this for just anybody.

Melissa grabs a sticky note off Ava’s desk and quickly jots down your address.

She doesn’t know how she made it throught the four grueling hours left of school.  When the final bell rings, Melissa quickly packed her things before leaving the school and getting in her car.  She pulled up her gps on her phone and typed in an unfamiliar address.  Thirty minutes later she is pulling up to a row of homes until she finally parks in front of a little beige one.  

Gathering her courage she picks herself up and out of her car and walks straight up to the door and knocks three times.  She is twiddling with her fingers nervously which is unlike herself.  Finally she hears footsteps on the other side of the door getting closer and the knob starts to turn.  When she finally sees your face through the crack of the door, she lets out the breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Hi, Y/n.”

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

Hii i just saw an anon requested a Jean short fic where the reader smothers his face with kisses. If it's okay w you, can i request smtg like that but this time it's fully fluff? Where Jean's just chilling on the couch or smtg & his girl comes up and randomly covers all over his face with kisses, tryna see whether the lipstick is 'transferproof' & casually walking away nonchalantly lmao. SO SORRY IF UR SICK OF DOING THE SAME REQUEST BUT I LOVE YOUR PAGE SM TT

summary: life with jean is easy. infact, it’s too easy. so, you commit yourself to finding the perfect way to mess with his day, for better or for worse.

cw: just fluff :’) short n sweet

a/n: sorry this took forever i’m the worst but ty for ur ask!!

jean, oblivious and drawn into some movie playing on the television, sits on a couch he had helped move out of your apartment when you two were ready to live together. he’s tucked into the corner, his arm supporting his head as he leans onto the arm rest. eyebrows knitted in a deep concentration, you were far from the front of his mind as he picks apart the film.

you had done some online shopping the past few days. well, jean would call it ‘splurging.’ it was hard refusing some of the sales going on, so you did get a bit of everything. earlier today, a few packages arrived, one encasing a new lipstick you’d heard good reviews about. everybody was raving about it and how it’d stay on even after a rough night out.

as you flip the tube around in your hands, you know there’s only one way to test it out, to see if what all the girls online were saying was true. you head to the bathroom where traces of your boyfriends cologne lingers. you apply an even layer of red to your lips. you rub them together and clean up any unwanted lines with a finger.

peaking your head into the living room, you can see he hasn’t moved an inch. he can’t even sense your presence at the moment, creating the ideal situation for your plans. you tiptoe quietly across the room as you pray the floorboards don’t creak. and luckily, they don’t.

you come around the side of him. his eyes are glued ahead. as you creep into his field of vision, he turns his head slightly. quickly, you grab ahold of his face, pressing your pointer on his right cheek and your thumb on his left. he doesn’t react as you press your lips over and over all along his face, from his temples to his sharp jawline where bits of stubble lie.

slightly out of breath, you pull away. red lip marks are scattered along his gorgeous face, bright in color. they contrast against his hazel eyes. you smile, looking at your painted boyfriend as he looks at you, one eyebrow raised in confusion- but not annoyed.

“hmm. guess they were lying.” you shrug your shoulders and turn on your heels, starting back towards the bathroom.

“baby?” he questions from his seat. you don’t say anything back, prompting a “baby? what are you talking about?” and a few muted footsteps in your direction.

go check out my jean fic !

[rubyreduji]

anatomy lesson — wjh

summary: you help jun learn female anatomy

tags: smut (minors dni!), crack, roommates!au warnings: explicit sexual content, fingering, oral (f. receiving), biting, jun is clueless wc: 1.5k an: happy belated bday jun, ik you love cats so here's some pus-

“Y/N, this isn’t true, is it?” You look up from where you’re sitting on your bed to see your roommate walking into your room.

“What isn’t true?”

“This.” Jun hands you a piece of paper. On it is a diagraph of a vagina. Words cannot express how confused you are right now.

“I- Jun what are you talking about?”

“This isn’t what a vagina looks like! Right?” Jun sits down next to you, grabbing the paper again. “Like, this looks weird and this looks fake.” You watch as he pokes his fingers at different places on the diagram.

“Where did you get this?”

“It was sitting on my desk in class today. I think it was from the previous class. I was curious so I picked it up, but I think it’s spreading false information.”

“Jun, have you ever seen a vagina before?”

“No!” 

You sigh. “I regret to inform you that this is in fact what a vagina looks like. Don’t you watch porn?” You don’t exactly want him to answer that, especially when you know the answer (you unfortunately can hear it coming from his room), but you can’t help but ask.

“I’m never looking this closely! This looks different than the ones in videos though.” Jun tilts his head at the paper, frowning at it. 

“Would you like me to show you?” You mean it sarcastically, and you’re not expecting it at all when Jun perks up at this.

“Would you?”

“I- Jun I was kidding.” Your face heats up at his enthusiasm.

“Wait, no, please! How else will I ever know?” You can’t exactly imply Jun go out and hook up with a woman just to look at her junk. 

“I- fine, but only for a second.” 

“Really!” Jun smiles wide at you. “Does your vagina have all the weird bits the diagram has too?”

You glare at your roommate. “Don’t make me regret this.” You pick your hips up from the bed and slide your pants and underwear down your legs. Jun situates himself at the end of your bed and waits for you as you spread your legs.

“Woah,” he says softly as he stares at the area just exposed to him. “What’s that thing, there?”

“Where?” You ask. Without thinking your hand flies down to your pussy and places your finger over your clit. “This?”

“Yeah!”

“That’s the clitoros, Jun.” Jun’s jaw drops.

“That’s where it is?”

“I- yes, Jun, that’s where it is.”

“And it works the way they say it does?” You truly don’t know how your roommate is even real.

“Yes.”

“Can I see?”

“Jun! No!” You quickly snap your legs shut together and bury your face in your hands. “You can’t just ask someone to do that kind of stuff.”

“I can do it for you if you want,” Jun offers, making everything worse without knowing.

The issue is the whole situation is kind of turning you on. Not something you thought you’d be into, but you can’t help yourself. Your roommate is infuriatingly sexy and charming, even if you’ve seen him itch his balls before.

“If I let you do this, we cannot speak of it ever again.” 

“Whatever you say Y/N!”

You slowly spread your legs again. Your feet are planted on the bed so your knees are pointed up and out, giving Jun a view of your pussy again. It’s slightly wet with your arousal and Jun stares at it in awe for a moment before scooting closer.

“Uh, Y/N?”

“What Jun?” You’re staring at the wall behind him, too embarrassed to look directly at him.

“What do I do?”

Fuck. Of course he doesn’t know what to do. He didn’t even know what a vagina looked like until two minutes ago. You reach out for Jun. “Give me your hand.”

He allows you to grab his wrist and pull him between your legs. You rearrange his fingers before pressing his pointer and middle finger up to your clit.

“Just rub in soft circles,” you explain. “You just gotta stimulate it, play with it. I’ll tell you if you’re doing it wrong.”

Jun starts to move his fingers against you and sink into the bed. You left out a soft moan as he rubs at you. He’s not doing bad, in fact it actually feels quite good. At your positive response, Jun gets more confident and starts to go a bit faster.

You can feel yourself getting wetter at his touch. You shift around a bit, needy for something actually inside of you. Jun’s free hand automatically moves to hold your legs open and you involuntarily moan at the action. His fingers dig into the meat of your thigh, squeezing at the fat there.

“Are you okay Y/N?” Jun looks at you innocently, like he’s not edging you towards an orgasm right now.

“More, please. Faster,” you tell him instead of answering his question.

Jun seems confused at your words but continues to touch you, deciding to figure it out on his own. Jun’s fingers speed up and press a bit harder. His circle motions are more like jerks now as he flicks his fingers over your clit.

Your hips buck into his hand, wanting even more. You tilt your head back onto your pillow, letting small whines leave your throat.

“Woah,” you hear Jun whisper. “Y/N-ah, you’re so wet here.” Jun’s fingers prod at your entrance and you try to grind up against his hand. You need his fingers in you right now.

“Mphm, Junhui, please,” you beg.

Your body is buzzing with want and all Jun seems to be doing is teasing you, even if he doesn’t know it. His fingertips slide over your folds, spreading them apart. His other fingers continue to work at your clit, but they seem to slow down as he examines your pussy. Right. That’s what started this.

You’re impatient and needy though so you reach down and tug at Jun’s hair. That seems to wake him up from his trance and his fingers speed up again.

“Can I?” Jun looks up at you expectantly as his fingertips start to breach your entrance.

“Fuck, yes, please.”

At your words Jun swiftly shoves two fingers right into you. Your arousal guides his fingers along and your walls clench down as he starts to pump in and out of you. His fingertips curl up against your soft walls and when he presses in just the right place your legs start to tremble.

Jun takes this as a good sign and continues to do it, thrusting his fingers up against your g-spot. Your mind is fuzzy with pleasure and all you can do is focus on remembering to breathe as Jun’s fingers work at you.

You hear Jun make a hum of contemplation, before his head is disappearing between your thighs. You’re not ready for it and you let out a scream of pleasure as you feel his hot, wet tongue lap over your clit. Your hands fly down to Jun’s head, fisting his hair and pushing him deeper against your cunt.

“Jun, Jun, Jun,” you chant his name like a mantra. His lips catch around your clit and he sucks at it, his tongue flicking out every once and while to lick at the head. His fingers are still moving inside of you and his shoulders are keeping your leads spread and his mouth feels so damn good that you can’t think.

Jun continues to make out with your cunt and you snake a hand up your shirt, squeezing at your own tits. You brush your thumb over your perk nipple and arch your back into your own touch. You’re close, you’re so very close.

Jun pops his mouth off your clit before replacing it with his thumb. His mouth moves to your thigh where he sinks his teeth in. Your body tenses up and you let out a strangled cry before you’re cumming all over Jun’s hand. Your walls are throbbing against his fingers and he goes to take them out but you grab his wrist before he can.

“Don’t you dare stop right now.”

Jun does as you say, continuing to fuck you through your high. When your body eventually falls limp to the bed, Jun slowly slides his fingers out of you. Your chest is heaving as you stare at Jun who’s looking at you with wide eyes.

“You’re…beautiful,” he whispers.

“Thanks,” you mutter. “So, did that answer your question?”

It takes Jun a moment to process your words, like he forgot what got you two into this situation to begin with. When he realizes what you’re asking he perks up. “Yeah! It really did, thank’s Y/N-ah! What can I do to repay you?”

You laugh a bit. “I mean, you just finger fucked the life out of me, but…,” you stare down at his crotch, his bulge strainging against his sweatpants, “maybe you could help me out with learning some male anatomy?”

And well, Jun seems happy to oblige. 

taglist: @pandorashbox @leejihoonownsmyheart @soonhoonietrash @chaimi-yut @embrace-themagic @kayleeshinee @joonsytip @heyxxitsxxtay @synthetickitsune @chwecardcaptor @candidupped @dreamhannies @d0nghyck @niyizh @baldi-2 @wolfgurl2600-blog @enhacolor @noniestars @heavenly-mobo @sunnyteume @debsworld23 @m1nghaos @just-here-to-read-01 @blxckswxnxge @17kwans @jeanjacketjesus @x-veex @namjoonbaby @ovai @belladaises @todorokiskitten @jihoonliker @valentxi @honeylovemoon @spilled-coffee-cup @sulkygyu @0717luv @yeosayang @98-0603 @miriamxsworld @morklee02 @luvv4svt @tinkerbell460 @toruro @lllucere @bias-recs

join my taglist: here!

[weskin-time]

listen, i'm throwing this request in here because we frankly don't get enough of this in the x reader tag, character x injured/sick!reader. it doesn't even have to be anything super angsty if you don't want it to be. like i just want the fluff of an overwatch character fretting over reader with a sprained ankle lmao

(any characters are okay tbh, write for whoever you have ideas for!)

Hello anon!! i hope this works for you! i had a lot of fun writing this and i might make more later on. >:3

please give me more OW requests. mm brain rot <3

TBH i don’t really like genjis one i might rewrite it later on so keep an eye out for a post

D.Va, Genji, Ramattra X GN!Hurt/Sick!Reader

Not beta read

cw- injury, pain,

Hana “D.Va” Song

gaming with your girlfriend was almost mandatory as you started your relationship

you were fine with that, in fact you were happy to join in her streams and hang out with D.Va and finish to get some quiet time with Hana.

But. you two played different types of games.

You loved character driven story games, open worlds and side quests

and she was a world champion, mmorpgs, real time strategy games, fast paced games you never really tried

But she asked one day if you wanted to play LOL with her on stream you said yes of course

but wow was it a learning curve, and a new thing you had to adapt to. fast paced clicking and key mashing hurt your fingers and wrists.

you have no idea how Hana doesn’t have wrist problems worse then she does if you just played for a few days and your pointer finger felt stuck and pain would throb in your forearms.

Hana ended stream that night and took a breath to regain her self. You were chilling in the same room as her, her set up more impressive than yours as you turned off your own PC and turned your chair to face her.

Getting up from your semi uncomfortable office chair you walked over to her as she stretched, you went to grab her water bottle to refill it for her but as soon as your hand grabbed the bottle pain shot through your forearm and wrist making you involuntarily wince.

Her eyes shot to you in worry before she completely understood what happened, “Aww I hope i didn’t push you too hard that last round.”

You chuckled and shook out your arms, it really didn’t do much. “It’s hard to keep up with you in these games Ms Professional ESports World Champion.”

It was her turn to laugh, “Get good.” She got up and grabbed the bottle herself and shut down her PC. “You good though? Got Gamers wrist?”

“Up my forearms and everything, clicking finger is sore too.” You flex your fingers trying to get the stiff feeling out.

“Didn’t you used to play a religious amount of Cookie Clicker back in the day, without auto clicker?” She points out as you follow her out of y’all’s gaming room and to the kitchen.

You have a scoff, “My child self didn’t know what that was, i was rich on cookies. And it didn’t hurt all this bad.” You rested against the island.

She paused by the fridge, filling her bottle up with the water. “I have some extra wrist braces if you’d like, they work wonders.”

“Please.” Your response came instantly before you could even process the last part of her sentence. It made her snort with how desperate you sounded and she almost overflowed her bottle.

“Come here, give me your arms.” She turned around and leaned against the other side of the island in front of you.

You did and held out your forearms to her with a confused look.

She wrapped her hands around for forearms and began to squeeze them, massaging them firmly, perfectly in the place where it hurt the most. A whine left your throat at the feeling of sore pain meeting soft comforting pain. Her fingers dug into the meat gently as she circled the muscle, slowly making her way down to your wrists where she provided the same treatment. Your head rested on the island counter as you slumped over, heaven was in her hands.

“Thank you Hana.”

“You’re welcome bunny.”

——————————————————————

Genji Shimada

sleep deprivation sucked.

2-3 hours a night was all you were going off of. it wasn’t enough to keep your brain healthy or your body.

constant headaches, unfocused eyes, micro sleep, confusion, it all was ass

but there was nothing you could do in the moment to fix it, you just kept staying awake at night to either game or finish work projects and paperwork.

sickness sometimes finds you when you’re like this, nauseous from lack of sleep, headaches making your eyes hurt.

you tried your best to fight back the sleep that demanded itself, but failed.

Genji was silent in his approach to your desk, you knew he was there, you could sense him.

Your laptop was too bright, your eyes were unfocused and you could barely feel yourself slowly lean forward to the desks surface. A hand on your shoulder wakes you up enough to realize you were holding down a single key on your keyboard and the open document on your screen now had a long line of Vs.

“Hiya Genji.” you slur almost, as you closed your eyes only for the entire world to pulse around you, sounds were too sharp and too dull at the same time, breathing in and out seemed to take all your strength, but your strength was elsewhere trying to fight off sleep.

“You don’t look too good.” He stated flatly, his helmet off as he rested in comfortable clothing.

You glance up to see him, eyes focusing on his face, “Thanks.” was all you had the energy to respond with.

He looked at your laptop, reading what you were writing but telling by his confused and concerned face you think you just wrote gibberish that your brain thought sounded like a normal sentence.

“How long have you been awake?” His voice dripping with concern but his voice buzzed in your ears and bounced around your head for a second before you could process what he said.

“I’ve had 5 hours of sleep this week.” You yawn and look away from his wide eyed expression.

It was Saturday. 11pm.

Your body didn’t have enough energy to even move it felt like.

“Okay,” he dragged out the word and closed your laptop. “Let’s get you to bed yea?” The way he said it made you know there was no changing his mind.

You didn’t want to admit you needed sleep but at the same time your head was throbbing and the thought of cuddling with your Genji was enough to perk you up more.

You mumbled out an okay before trying to stand on wobbly knees, your body feeling light yet heavy at the same time. A flesh hand came to steady you and hold you before you heard a sigh and suddenly you were swept off your feet and being carried to the bedroom.

“You need to take better care of yourself.” Concern laced his words as he placed you on the bed carefully.

“I know I know,” you made a grabby hand motion at him and he smiles, soon making his way to the bed as well, cuddling up beside you. You used his still flesh side as a pillow as he laid on his back. “I’m sorry Genji.”

He ran fingers along your scalp, scratching softly, putting you in a trance. “I know you don’t do field work anymore but you still need to rest.”

“I will, I will.” Was all you could mumble out before almost instantly falling asleep. the last thing you felt was his lips against your forehead.

The next morning Genji barley let you leave the bedroom after you slept for nearly 14 hours. He made you food and sat and ate with you in the bed while the two of you watched Cowboy Bebop. Your work could wait till monday, you just wanted to enjoy the last day of the weekend resting with him.

—————————————————————

Ramattra

you were out for a walk with Ramattra

the spring air buzzed with life as you two passed by trees, bird song filling silence, bees resting on flowers as they bumbled their fat little bodies around

it was a nice walk, one to clear your mind and his systems, just to think and be together

you didn’t see a tree root and you fell and ate dirt, twisting your ankle

“oh ow ow ow ow ow.” you let out a string of curses from behind clenched teeth.

Your ankle throbbed, it felt warm and tingly at the same time, pain shooting through your foot and up your shin. You do what your dumb brain tells you to and you roll it to make sure it’s not broken, thankfully it isn’t but the pain takes the air from your lungs with a sharp gasp.

Ramattra stared down at you on the ground, unmoving as he studied you. He watched as you tried to get back up with only the use of one leg, holding onto a tree for support as you stood with your leg raised like a dog that’s paw got stepped on.

“Fragile things you humans are. You tripped and now you can’t stand?” His voice wasn’t as harsh as it once was many moons ago, but he still said it with some form of exasperation.

You set your foot on the ground, testing it and instantly regretting it as pain erupts again.

You ignore his comment, “Oh gods I don’t know if i can walk back.”

“Weakling.” He said but held out his arm for you to take. There was no malice in his vocal synthesizers.

You did, leaning against him. Thanking him as you both turned around and took a step to head back to base. As you tried to put weight on your ankle you winced and let out a hiss.

“I really fucked myself up good.” You laugh a little as you stare down at your feet.

“Do you need me to carry you?” His voice buzzed with slight concern, you wouldn’t have noticed it unless you had spent enough time with the Omnic, and you have.

You look up at him with a smirk, a look that pokes him, “You goin soft on me Ram?”

He tenses a tiny tiny bit more than he already was, “No!” He said a bit too quickly. “It would take us ages to get back with your condition and I am not going to wait on you. It would be faster for me to carry you there. Simple.”

You ponder for a second, before nodding your head. Why would you ever give up the opportunity to be carried by this giant?

Ramattra let’s out a fake sigh and grabs you by the midsection, lifting you up and placing your butt on his right shoulder. You were expecting to be carried in his arms but sitting on his shoulder was way more fun already. You felt like a bird resting on his broad shoulders.

“Thanks, you big softie.” You pat his head to make your point.

He moves his right arm to hold your hips, keeping you stable and you use his arm as a grip. “I’m not doing this for you.” He grumbled but the way he made sure you weren’t going to fall off said otherwise.

He waited for you to give the word and he started to make his way back, you on his shoulder and enjoying being really tall.

[im-poltergeist]

Towers and Thorns (Fanfic vers)

tags: bodyguard!Ghost x royal!reader, older Ghost, first fic, might be crappy idk, multiple parts, might be nsfw down the line, english is not my first language so feel free to correct me. 🌻

Part 1 🌻 Part 2 🌻 Part 3

Lenses begin shuttering the moment that you step out into the light. Your parents wave to the crowd that has formed outside the gates. You just smile, and breathe. Remember that part. You think to yourself. Crowds have never been your cup of tea. But with your oldest cousins recent scandal it has been worse than ever. One wrong move and the reporters will write about if for weeks.

You continue to walk along the gravel path towards the podium where an older man stands with his hands behind his back. He has two bodyguards on either side of him. Your mother walks up the stairs, greeting the recently elected president with a handshake. He smiles at her with far to white teeth and bows down to kiss her hand. Next is your father and last, you. You walk towards him with a smile plastered on your face.

"Mr President", you greet him and extend your hand towards him. He takes your hand in a firm grip, a too firm grip. It makes your hand ache but you don't move a muscle. You feel Ghosts eyes burning into your back as if he could sense your discomfort. The president lets go of your hand without saying a word and you move to the far side of the podium. Ghost following you and stands behind you. His frame towering over yours and you feel the heat from his body radiate into your back. It's a strangely comforting feeling.

Your mother and The president hold their speech. They talk about how "We need to work together more than ever in these uncertain times" and "With this cooperation we will ensure that both England and The United States of America thrive towards a better, safer, future". You hardly listen. You may look in their direction and smile. But most of their speech fall on deaf ears. You are much too occupied with your aching right hand to pay much of it any mind. You massage the area between your thumb and pointer finger absentmindedly behind your back. That's when you feel a large, warm, hand wrap around your wrist. You twitch at the unexpected feeling before relaxing in to his grip. Ghost twists your hand slowly, checking for any serious damage, you suppose, and rubs the sides of your fingers gently before letting your hand go.

When they had finished speaking and had given the photographers plenty of time to take pictures of them shaking hands and holding their joint hands up into the air the left the podium. Walking past you on the way to the garden. Your mother walking first and The president as well as your father walking after her. All of their respective guards following close behind. You, on the other hand, walk back towards the palace. It's not mandatory for you to walk with the president through the garden. Even if it would provide a good image to see you speaking with the president, it's best that you don't. You don't need to make a fool out of yourself.

You walk down the stairs to the podium but as you reach the fourth step your flat slips off the edge. You feel yourself fall forward, your stomach sinking. Two hands catch you by the waist and hip setting you upright on the next step. Your eyes widen and you pause before taking the next step down. The smile gone from your lips. You gather yourself again and smile towards the crowd outside the gate. You continue walking towards the palace. Back stiff and smile faltering.

"You okay", Ghost whispers. His warm breath hitting your ear through his balaclava.

"Yeah", you breathe and wave to the crowd outside the gate.

This is going to be gold for the news articles tomorrow morning. You can already imagine the headlines. "The princess of England is falling head over heals" and "Knight in shining armor, the princess saved by her bodyguard".

The doors close behind you and you run a hand through your hair. Well more like half your hair since you use your right hand out of habit and the pain makes you tense up. You turn around to face Ghost but he is nowhere to be seen. I swear to god, that man can disappear into thin air, you think to yourself. Just as you finish that thought you hear someone clear their throat behind you. There he stands, with an icepack in his hand.

"Oh, thank you", you mumbled, reaching out for the icepack.

"Ill do it", Ghost replied, placing the icepack on your hand gently and wrapping it in place with a piece of cloth.

"We don't need you to be all black and blue in time for dinner, your highness", he continued. He clearly didn't trust your medical skills. You suppose that he was right not to since your first aid skills consist of bandaids.

"Right, dinner", you muttered. As if a stroll in the park wasn't enough, you had to have dinner with The president too. Great. More opportunities to make a fool out of yourself. Exactly what you need right now.

"Don't worry, by next week they will have forgotten all about your little tumble", Ghost interrupts your thoughts. Do I have to add mind reading to the list of things that this man seems to be able to do, you think to yourself.

"Maybe a few months ago. But after the scandal theres no chance in hell that they'll let this opportunity for more gossip pass them by", you sigh and look down at the floor.

Of all the things that your cousins have done. This takes the cake. Your eldest cousin fell pregnant. Under normal circumstances this would be wonderful, but she isn't married. After a text between her best friend and her got leaked to the press, with a picture of a positive pregnancy test, the whole world has been asking who the father is. The most popular rumor, her own bodyguard. Which obviously isn't helping your current situation.

"Letting you fall wouldn't have been a good look either", He says, bringing you back to reality.

"I know. Im sorry. Im just under a lot of stress right now. Not that it justifies it", you apologize and take a deep breath. You glance up at him. His brown eyes look back at you. His usually cold eyes soften ever so slightly.

"It's alright, your highness."

You sit in front of your mirror putting mascara on your eyelashes. Your right hand feels considerably better. Still sore but considerably better. In thirty minutes you need to have dinner with the man who caused the damage, just great. You put the mascara wand back in its tube and stand up from your vanity. The lilac dress you are wearing slides back down your figure, the shimmery fabric contouring your body in the light. Your hair is curled and put up into a bun. Everything is flawless, just as it is supposed to be. You sigh and walk to the wall mounted mirror. The frame reflects the dim light. You give yourself a once over in the mirror, straighten out your dress around your bust and wipe some gloss out of the corner of your lips. You take a deep breath and turn around, straight into something solid.

"What the-", you look up and meet a pair of dark brown eyes. The eyes are outlined by blond lashes. How have you never noticed that before?

"Better not finish that sentence. Would be inappropriate, don’t you think", Ghost suggests, the corners of his eyes crinkling briefly.

"Sneaking up on me isn’t", you ask tilting your head to the side and crossing your arms over your chest.

"I would hardly call that sneaking", he replies, crossing his arms and leaning forward.

"Oh yeah? What would you call it then",

"Checking up on you", he replies, grabbing your right arm gently. "How’s your hand doing", he continues. You clear your throat.

"Fine, a bit sore still", you answer. His fingers trace over the bones in your hand. You swallow and advert your eyes. They drift towards the opposite wall. Towards the clock. Shit.

"We need to go", you exclaim and wrench your hand out of his grip. You rush towards the door. Purple silk whirling around your ankles as you hurry out the door.

[crumbledcastle28]

Din Djarin: Dare You to Touch Me--Dare You to Love Me

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Excerpt: "You couldn't say it out loud, he knew you couldn't, so you screamed at him with your eyes. They told him everything he needed to know.

I dare you, they said, I dare you to touch me. I dare you to love me, even like this.

Help me.

But he didn't. All you got was one single croak of your name before he headed behind you, scooped the Rodian into his arms like it was nothing, and said, huskily, "I'll meet you at the Crest."

And that was it. He was gone.

He fucking left you.

Warnings: ANGSTTTT, Din's a scaredy cat, graphic descriptions of blood and knives, reader is really self-deprecating and gets really really dark, needles, stitching, swearing, Din gets some sense knocked into him, the Razor Crest is forever alive in my mind, hopeful ending.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: This is incredibly kanej inspired, therefore incredibly personal. I hope you all enjoy :)

If you'd like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

Pedro Masterlist

(Gif credit to Pinterest)

You didn't know if the red on your hands was from the crimson lighting the prison ship had been showered with, or your own blood leaking from your gut. Not leaking, sprouting. Its thickness and warmth gushed onto your hand and wrist, pumping so fiercely that the pressure you had against your wound wasn't enough to prevent some dripping down onto the floor, effectively causing you to slip on your own butchery. You could fit your pointer finger in-between the flaps of skin separated from the Rodian's dagger, and the pain of it spun your brain in circles, so much so that you could not help the breakfast you had only hours before splatting on the metal floor.

That fucking reptile had gotten you good. Too good. Luckily for him, your revenge came in a blaster shot through his brain, rather than something much, much worse. His corpse was heavy as hell though, and having to drag it in your state didn't help either. You were slipping in your own blood and vomit, grinding your teeth after every step you took, dragging hundreds of pounds one-handed, and practically biting off your own tongue to keep from wailing.

And Din was nowhere to be found.

Frankly, you were more disgusted with yourself than you ever would be with him. It had gotten too perfect with him, too easy. The two most brutal, solitary bounty hunters in the galaxy, hearts locked inside impenetrable chains, practically salivating to finally touch the other. He had done everything else; told you his name, his Creed, his losses, and you had done the same to him. Those demons inside your head reared their ugliness, screaming at you to get a fucking grip.

Just wait, they said. He's just like everyone else. He'll disappoint you just like everyone else, and you've given him enough ammo to destroy you.

You were a child to believe otherwise.

Maybe he's just run late, that child inside you whimpered, or he's hurt.

You pushed her down, and carried on.

You had made it at least fifty feet away from where the two of you were supposed to meet, inches away from rounding the corner to the Crest--satisfied at the thought that you were very capable of taking everything he ever loved inside that piece of metal and burning it to ash--when a burst of your blood gushed on the floor just right, twisting your ankle, and sending you forward, pushing your hand deeper into your wound.

You didn't remember screaming or puking, but you imagined you had to have done both, because it was right then that Din rounded the corner, finding you in a puddle of your own blood-soaked vomit.

He froze, panting, as your vision went white with pain. Your body sunk into the floor, screaming at you that the metal was actually cushioned, the light you saw behind your eyes was only sleep, and the thick fluid coating your hand was warm, soapy bathwater.

Stay down, your demons whispered, stay a while.

No, the child within exclaimed, Din is here. Din will help.

With a grunt, you helped him with the first step, getting you onto all fours. You propped yourself up with the last of the strength you had, your mouth dribbling out more spit and vomit as you did, and waited. Waited for those large, leathered hands to take you into his arms, and carry you home.

You waited, and waited, and waited, and when you finally turned your head to look at him is when you finally let a single tear escape.

He just...stood there, looking down at you like some pathetic lump of flesh, only slowing him down. His arms remained firmly at his sides, while his chest rose up and down erratically, the way it did when he was angry. He stared down at you, the most vulnerable you had ever been, and looked at you like you were the most useless, pitiable, disappointing creature to ever grace his eyes.

Maybe he doesn't realize, the child within exclaimed, show him.

And you did, you had been. You couldn't say it out loud, he knew you couldn't, so you screamed at him with your eyes. They told him everything he needed to know.

I dare you, they said, I dare you to touch me. I dare you to love me, even like this.

Help me.

But he didn't. All you got was one single croak of your name before he headed behind you, scooped the Rodian into his arms like it was nothing, and said, huskily, "I'll meet you at the Crest."

And that was it. He was gone.

He fucking left you.

Told you, the demons whispered, and the child within you finally broke.

You sobbed as you attempted to stand, you sobbed as you vomited from the effort, you sobbed as you wiped your chin, you sobbed as you pressed against your wound once again, you sobbed as you finally put your feet under you, and you sobbed as you took each and every step back home.

Home, the demons inside your head cackled, you have no home. You never will.

You were truly a lamentable sight. You were surprised you didn't bash your own head in.

Finally, the Crest came into view through the pounding in your head and the haze of your own tears, and for that one second, you pretended he had stayed. You pretended he was guiding you with his forearm against your back, his voice against your temple, and shoulders propping you up. You pretended the chills on your body were from the chill of his armor, not your own blood loss, because for once, you had been right about someone. You had been right about him.

That second of delusion was enough, before the demons inside your head went back to its guffaws.

You trekked your way up the Crest's ramp, biting down on your cheeks until they bled, because he would not hear you scream. Your head was getting worse, beginning to fade in and out of consciousness. It was obvious you needed a stitching, and as you searched for a clean kit through the Crest's shelves, you recalled how many times you had stitched Din up. You always kept your gloves on, and you removed as few pieces of his precious beskar as you could, but you stuck with him through every stitch, every groan, every drop of blood from his body, you stayed. You never removed your gloves, no matter how badly you wanted to touch him, truly touch him. Trace the constellation of moles on his back, the depth of his scars, and the warmth of his tan skin. You never did.

You wondered if those beskar pieces would sink with him when you threw him into Naboo's Abyss.

One more time, the child inside you cried out. She was wailing now. Please, try one more time.

You slammed the drawer shut when you found a kit suitable enough, and you slammed it hard. You waited for him to come out of the cockpit, hands filled with bacta and bandages, but he remained seated in the captain's chair, unmoving.

Like everyone else, the demons said, and clicked their tongues.

The child sobbed, and you did with it as you proceeded to clean and bandage yourself. Alone.

He could close the fucking hanger himself.

The cleaning of your wound was the worst of it. The water burned down the nerves of your legs and feet more than you expected, as well as the warm towels pressing against your wound. You had to go inside of it, just to be safe, and tried not to imagine what organs you were memorizing the texture of. Stitching it was nothing, you could do it with your eyes closed, but with the mix of the exhaustion of blood loss, pain, and the scars reopened in your heart, you were out as soon as you snipped the excess thread away and bandaged yourself up tightly. You were in your own cot, thank the maker, in the storage unit Din let you use as a makeshift bedroom.

Let you use, the demons said with a scoff.

Let you use, the child said with a smile.

It had to have been at least a day before you finally woke up, your mind blank with those first few seconds of the bliss of ignorance, allowing you a moment of peace in forgetting that anything had ever happened, before you were met with as dry of a throat you had ever had, an ache across your body like you had never experienced before, and a stab across your midsection to bring you right back to reality.

"Fuck," you whispered, and immediately went to press your fingers against the throbbing slice, when your fingers were met with something...soft.

A thin blanket had been placed over you, and as you propped yourself up in shock, a voice deep as night replied, "Y/N."

You turned, and for just one second, the child inside you admired.

Din was sitting on a makeshift pile of blankets squished against the wall, body still covered in beskar, with a glass of clear water in his leathered hand. "I didn't...know if you had drunk anything."

Initially, your heart warmed.

Me, the child inside you whispered, he was worried about me.

You stared into where you could only guess his eyes were underneath his helmet, and your mouth threatened to etch into a smile as you felt your hand begin to reach for the liquid. Until, the demons that haunted to you whispered in reply.

Remember.

Your hand halted, and the look of love in your eyes quickly wilted into a look of fury. Your lips did etch into a smile, but more of a devilish grin.

You have the upper hand. Use it.

Your voice came as rich and powerful as ever. "I can take care of myself."

You then tossed your legs over the cot, stood slowly, and left him. You barely felt the ache in your midsection anymore, not with the endorphins revenge brought on.

As you walked to the kitchen, imagining how satisfying it was to know how much hurt he'd feel when you finally walked out, slightly limping but more joyful than you had been in weeks, a firm grip caught your forearm, and a voice of terror, true terror, whispered, "wait."

Your nostrils flared and your bicep flexed as you turned, ready to pull your hand away and knock him on his ass, when you noticed the same breath pattern he had when he had found you only a day before.

The beings inside you were too curious to pull you away from him just yet.

"Please just...please just listen," he exclaimed, voice weighed down by a mixture of seemingly every emotion possible, "I didn't...I didn't know what to do. I'd never seen you like that before. So near death. I have only ever seen you standing, and to see you so down was--"

He paused to gather a breath, and as he did, his back straightened, his composure tightened, and his voice was coated with something almost...evil.

"--I wanted to destroy him," he finished. "The fucking Rodian. I wanted to be the one to blow a blaster through his brain, and rip him apart as I did."

A film of water began to coat your eyes. You didn't know from what.

"I panicked. I'm a fucking coward who panicked when you needed me, and I am so, so sorry."

His grip on your wrist had loosened slightly, his thumb even beginning to rub delicate circles on the top of your hand, and it took everything in you not to let the child within you-- as well as the woman-- fall apart against him. He was finally daring to touch you, rub on you, and you wanted to know what else he would dare to touch. How would his fingers feel stroking through your hair? Down your back? Against your face?

He was scared, the child within you whispered, he was scared, that's all he was, and he admitted it.

You could forgive him. You know you could.

But could you go through this again, the demons asked.

No. You couldn't. Your id and superego were at war once more, and with what little strength your ego had between them, you spoke.

"You fucking left me," you croaked, "you left me to die."

"I know. I know I did," he muttered, ashamed. "And I am so sor--"

"No," you stopped him, finally prying your hand away from him. The rage, hurt, and pain you felt over the previous twenty-four hours finally bubbling their way to the surface with the tears running down your cheeks.

You would not let yourself feel this way, ever again.

"Don't apologize to me." you stated. "Prove yourself to me. If you ever--ever--pull that shit again, I am gone. Gone. Do you hear me?"

He stared. Unresponsive.

"Do you hear me?"

"Yes," he finally blurted. "Yes."

"Good," you said, and backed away from him. "Now take a fucking shower. You smell even through the armor."

You could've sworn he chuckled as he walked back through the cockpit.

You continued your walk towards the kitchen, wiping your tear-stained cheeks, and you felt your demons begin to belittle you once more.

He's going to do it again, they chanted, and again, and again, and again. He will rip you open time and time again. He knows you're weak for him now. He will use it. He will use it to take advantage of everything that you are. Pathetic.

But the child within you only smiled, satisfied with her knowledge of the truth.

Din was bigger than all of them.

Tag list: (I apologize if your tag is not present or is not working. If you'd like to be added to my tag list, please let me know!)

@leahkenobi @cityofidek @burned-dorito @tiredbuthappy @punkiwiki @lovesbiggerthanpride @darth-voder @samanthacookieone @torchbearerkyle @stardust-galaxies @c4psicles-blog��@joelsflannel l @mysun-n-stars @tateelii @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @arson-tm @l0calgoth @thesmutslut @alastorhazbin @grincheveryday @martinsmomo @letaliabane @cathenan @big-ol-boat @niiight-dreamerr @jezebel1945 @call-me-doll-face @yelyahcardella @letskeepthislo-ki @misspearly1 1 @petals-opento-the-moon @just-a-sewer-goblin @em---r @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @arson-tm @l0calgoth @thesmutslut @alastorhazbin @grincheveryday @reader8679 @torchbearerkyle @stardust-galaxies @c4psicles-blog @joelsflannel @mysun-n-stars @tateelii @darthvadersource -voder @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @arson-tm @cockscombkingdom

@lexloon @pauphs @enjoyyourlatte

@miss-goldenweek @darling-murdock @1deadpool26 @queen-nothing @burnt-dorito @untitledarea @julialoopeezz @aninnai​ @daphne-turner

[carlos-in-glasses]

Thank you for the tag @three-drink-amy ! Happy Wednesday! This week in BJ Fic, let's experience retractile testicles with Tarlos 🧡:

“Baby– baby–” TK pleads, “I can’t– I can’t– last–” he buckles, his mouth colliding with Carlos’ left shoulder. He bites him hard as he comes and Carlos yells at the surprise of the sting. “Sorry,” TK sighs into his skin, abuzz and jittering as he processes the shocking intensity of the grind.

“Oh fuck. My ball’s gone.”

“What?”

“My right ball. It’s gone up.”

Carlos turns around as TK shifts into a kneeling stance, one leg either side of Carlos’ waist. His come drips onto Carlos’ pecs as he gently coaxes his right ball out from where it has receded into his groin.

“Need a hand?” Carlos asks with a chuckle.

“No thank you.”

This happens to TK sometimes when he comes hard. Carlos can’t help but feel pride, although TK hates it. Most memorably, once when he was sixteen, his ball didn’t come back down again. He confessed to Owen and they took a father-son trip to the ER, where unfortunately TK was seen to by a hot male nurse. TK told Carlos the story years ago, the first time it occurred after sex between them. He relayed it like it was the worst moment of his whole life, even though he’d arguably been through a lot worse. Balls are just really precious.

“God damn what a sexy sight this must be,” TK clucks as his right testicle obediently starts to drop by way of him pressing his hand back and forth against the valley connecting crotch and leg.

“I like how you’re doing it right above me so I can see every detail,” Carlos laughs.

“I like to take care of it immediately.”

Carlos reaches between TK’s legs to welcome the adventuring ball back into the game, cupping it softly in the crook of his pointer finger. “How about I take care of you now? Bath before bed?”

TK leans down to kiss him, smiling as he goes.

Open tag and tags below:

@cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @lemonlyman-dotcom @heartstringsduet @paperstorm @strandnreyes @reyesstrand @lightningboltreader @goodways @bonheur-cafe @noxsoulmate @ladytessa74 @chaotictarlos @chicgeekgirl89 @carlos-tk @louis-ii-reyes-strand @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @orchidscript @liminalmemories21 @theghostofashton @welcometololaland @herefortarlos @rmd-writes @thisbuildinghasfeelings @alrightbuckaroo @whatsintheboxmh @freneticfloetry @never-blooms @literateowl @sznofthesticks @honeybee-taskforce @vineofroses @sugdenlovesdingle @wandering-night19 @sanjuwrites @kiwichaeng @fallout-mars - If you want to share/haven't already! No pressure ever! ❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

[afewproblems]

WIP Wednesday

I'm actually posting on WIP Wednesday, the stars have finally aligned in my favour!

Thank you to @outpastthebrakers for your tag today and @steves-strapcollection for your multiple tags before - its finally lined up today!!

Here is Part Two of my follow up to this Post (Steddie Breakup) hopefully with a Steddie makeup/fix-it future!

(Also! Important to note, season four - specifically the stuff with Vecna- Never happened in this AU)

***

Two Years later - 1987, Chicago, IL

Steve picks up another box from the back of the beemer. This one has, 'Steve's Obnoxious Hair Care,' neatly printed on the side in bold black sharpie --Steve snorts at the sight and vows to never let Robin help him pack ever again. 

He walks up the three flights and through the propped open front door to the two bedroom apartment.

It's small, just barely enough for two people, but in downtown Chicago, it's a steal at the price. 

And it's theirs. 

"Hey Birdie," Steve calls out from the kitchen, he sets the box down on the counter, turning his head to the left slightly to listen for her shuffling. The dull ringing in his right ear makes it more difficult, present ever since he left his parents house for good.

It had gotten even worse since their Russian encounter, but if he's weighing the pros and the cons of that night, he's glad he got Robin out of the deal.

Steve steps into the living room just off the kitchen, "Robin?"

Bright sunlight streams through the curtainless windows bathing Robin in a warm yellow glow. 

She stands in the center, facing Steve, with a pensive expression, her eyes scanning the space around her. 

"Hush Dingus," she mutters, holding up her pointer finger to her lips, "I'm visualizing". 

"Ah, of course," he concedes with a fond smile as Robin walks towards him slowly counting her steps. She lines her feet up as she moves, touching the toe of her right foot to the heel of her left. She wobbles slightly as she makes it to where Steve is standing, he reaches out to steady her with a laugh.

"I told you the living room was more than ten feet!"

"Robin, do you think that a 'foot' is literally your foot?" 

Robin sucks her teeth and rolls her eyes, before plucking the measuring tape from where it was clipped to her back pocket, "you have no concept of joy, you refuse to let me live".

"Yeah, yeah, so hard done by," he snorts as she sticks her tongue out at him and leans down to pick up one of the empty boxes.

She sighs and looks around the space again with a contented expression before looking at Steve, "well, Dingus, I think we did good".

Steve nods and tries to smile back but the expression doesn't quite meet his eyes, Robin tilts her head, turning the box over in her hands at the corners.

"What's wrong?" She says softly, anxiously, her blue eyes dart over his face, "is it a migraine? Do you need your meds?"

Steve shakes his head, wincing before he can stop himself, he knows Robin's brain would come up with the worst case scenario first. And, to be fair to her, she had seen the worst case scenarios and after effects of the Russian interrogation, she'd held his hand after spilling his guts from the nausea and halos in his vision, she'd insisted he buy blackout blinds for his room because, 'you never know when you'll need them Dingus, you won't always get one of these at night'.

Steve shakes his head, "no, it's not a migraine, relax Robs," he huffs as she levels him with a disbelieving stare.

"I just," Steve chews his lip for a moment as he drops his gaze to the floor. Robin steps closer, tilting her head to the side as he struggles to find the words.

"I love that you came with me, that we get to be here, but," Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair. It's longer than it had been two years ago, the gold and copper from his time in the warm summer sun slowly fading back to brown.

"Eddie always talked about leaving Hawkins someday, and I always thought it would be with me".

"This was our plan," he says softly, lifting his eyes to meet Robin's own, her brows pinched in a small frown.

"And I managed to screw that up like everything else," he trails off softly.

***

"I just don't understand why you have to go to this thing, you aren't even interested in his stupid job?" Eddie growls as he tosses the pencil up at his bedroom ceiling, it stays for just a moment before falling back into his waiting hands. Pock marks litter the tile from previous throws and Steve is sure Wayne's told him to knock it off more times than he can count.

"It's complicated," Steve says lowly, he pictures his dad's thunderous face, the same square jaw and straight nose that Steve has, they could be identical but for their ages and the cold grey eyes his father has. 

Steve took after his mother in that area, inheriting her large hazel eyes and long lashes. 

"No it's not," Eddie says stubbornly, he throws the pencil with more force this time and it hangs in the ceiling between them, "you could tell him to stuff his job up his ass".

"Eddie--"

"No, no, you know we had a show tonight, and you're choosing to go to your dad's fundraiser instead?"  

Steve sighs and bites the inside of his cheek, tamping down the urge to argue with his boyfriend.

But, they've never really had this talk before, Steve's never told anyone about his father and his homelife. 

Right now he wishes he had.

"It's not like I have much of a choice," he huffs as Eddie rolls his eyes and scoffs, "and not all of us have someone like Wayne to encourage us to do whatever we want".

"That's such bullshit and you know it," Eddie hisses ignoring the slight flinch from Steve, "you always do this". 

What?

"You never want to come to our shows, you never want to sit in on Hellfire--"

"That's not true," Steve growls, crossing his arms over his stomach, he hunches in on himself slightly but Eddie shakes his head.

"Yes it is! When was the last time you came to a show?"

Steve wracks his brain, trying to remember the name of the bar they had played at, it wasn’t the Hideaway, it had been a bit of a drive to get there. It was a dive bar that had sounded like it was straight out of Robin Hood, The Red Lion?

"See!" Eddie takes his silence as victory and throws his hands up in the air, "what did I tell you?"

"Jesus, it was a bar show just like all of them Eddie, it's not like you guys were playing on MTV or something," Steve snaps, the last threads of his patience wearing thinner and thinner. 

"Oh fuck off, MTV is part of the problem, do you not listen when I talk?"

"I always listen to you!" Steve cries out, his voice climbs in volume and his hands shake as adrenaline spikes, "sometimes you just talk and talk and talk and you say nothing important but I always listen to you!"

"Woooow, fuck you," Eddie scoffs as he turns on his heel and opens his bedroom door, Steve follows him, fuming but wary.

"Since everything I say is bullshit, apparently, and you don't want to come to our shows or spend time with me then maybe you should just go!"

Steve halts in his tracks.

Eddie stands by the open front door to the trailer, his cheeks are red and his mouth is a flat line carved in the middle of his face.

Steve feels his heart rate tick up as he stands there frozen.

They've had disagreements before, small petty arguments but this feels big. Much bigger than any fight they've ever had. 

"Eddie-"

"Nope, unless you tell me you're coming tonight, we're done".

Oh.

And just like that, it hurts just as much as when Nancy had told him she didn't love him the previous year. It's too much, he needs to leave.

"Yeah, you know what Eddie, I don't need this," Steve says so softly that Eddie leans forward to hear before reeling back as though struck, "I don't," he shakes his head and walks past Eddle towards the open door. 

Eddie's hands twitch as though he wants to reach out to Steve, to pull him back into the trailer, but they remain at his sides.

"You're right," Eddie yells after him as Steve walks down the gravel drive to his car, "you don't need us, we don't need you, go crawling back to daddy just like always".

Steve stops walking and looks back at Eddie. The metal-head's wide brown eyes are shiny with angry tears. 

Steve feels his own angry tears pooling along his lash line.

He gets in the car and drives away, ignoring the tightness in his chest as he heads home.

***

"Okay, first of all," Robin says sharply as she drops the box at their feet and pokes him in the chest with a rigid pointer finger, "you're damn right you're happy I came with you, I am a catch!" 

Steve rolls his eyes as Robin clears her throat imperiously until he raises his hands in surrender.

"Second, he found out about your dads shit, saw you beaten to hell and back, and didn't even want to have a conversation? Fuck that noise".

"Birdy, you weren't there, and you don't even know Eddie--"

"I know you though," she continues, staring him down, "and I know if the roles were reversed, you would have at least heard him out".

Steve holds back a wince, attempting to keep his expression as neutral as possible. He knows she isn’t right, he knows he made a mistake that night walking away, they should have talked, they should have had it out. 

Steve should have told Eddie the truth. 

Then again, Eddie dropped him like it was nothing so maybe he was better off in the long run.

Strangely enough this thought doesn’t make him feel better.

"Robin," Steve sighs wearily, crossing to the wall of the living room before leaning his back against it to slide down to the floor. 

"Tell me I'm wrong," she says softly, walking towards his spot on the floor, she settles beside him and nudges his shoulder with her own.

"Tell me I'm wrong and I'll drop it," she says again, firmly this time.

Steve breathes out a sigh and brings his knees to his chest, looking towards the window. 

The view isn't much, just the street and other buildings, but the Chicago skyline seems to stretch for miles ahead of them.

"You’re not wrong," he says eventually, ignoring the crow of triumph Robin makes, "but you're not right either".

She scoffs and leans her head against his shoulder, the soft waves of her hair tickle the skin on his bare arm but the weight and warmth of her is comforting.

"Besides, it was years ago," Steve mutters, "I'm sure he's forgotten all about me by now".

tagging: @strangersteddierthings @flowercrowngods @steddierthings @steddie-there @henderdads and anyone else that would like to participate! (Please tag me with your wonderful creations! Also I apologize if you've already been tagged - feel free to ignore this!)

[underthefingers]

True tickle story time #2

I have a friend who I tickle quite often. She's pretty damn ticklish and has an AMAZING laugh, so I of course try to hear it whenever I can. We watch stupid shit on YouTube and eventually made a "try not to laugh" playlist with some of our favorite videos.

We were hyping up the challenge because we are two giggly bitches who would likely fail instantly. We were talking MAD shit and decided to turn this into a bet.

She offered up the idea, "I bet I can stay stoic longer than you, you chuckle fuck."

"OH yeah???? What do you bet?"

"If I win, you let me text anyone from your phone."

"Well if I last longer than you brute... I get to tickle your worst spots!"

The bet was set. The terms agreed upon. We had three lives and 100+ videos. First to lose all of their lives suffers.

She first laughed at this.

This was around video 10. I hadn't lost any lives yet and I knew my victory was assured.

"Where are you most ticklish again?" I asked fully knowing the answers. Even so, the brat tried to mislead me.

"Definitely my sides. Can't stand that."

The liar was gonna get it.

This next video was a guaranteed laugh for her. I knew it as soon as I put it in the playlist.

I was right and her confidence began to wane. I continued shit talking despite laughing once myself until we came upon her last laugh.

I won, and I was excited to keep her laughing. We went upstairs to my room and she took a seat on my bed. I asked, "Are you ready and still okay with this?" And she nodded. She began to grin.

She flopped into a tight fetal position while saying "I lost, but I'm not going to make this easy for you."

That was my cue. I went for her so-called "weak spot" first and quickly pinched her sides with both of my hands. I gripped all the way around her sensitive sides and used my thumbs to scrub around the curve of her waist. This didn't quite break her defensive position, but I switched to pressing down on her lower stomach, right bellow the navel, with both of my pointer and index fingers, wiggling my hands as my fingers indented her ticklish skin. She literally gasped. Her fetal position quickly crumbled as I pinned her arms over her head. She was CACKLING already, but I decided to make things worse.

I knew her sides were bad, but they were probably like her third worst spot, so I decided to go for good ol' number one" her armpits.

My friends pretty skinny and has some DEEP armpit hollows. It was summer so she wore a tank top and she had NO defense against my fingers. I'm glad my roommates weren't home because she was about to SCREAM!

Over my many years of tickling her, I discovered that light touches can spark her downfall. With the very tip of my pointer finger, I slowly began drawing pictures in her right underarm hollow. She exploded as I tried my best to draw on my struggling canvas. I was writing the alphabet as slowly as possible and I could barely make it to "S" before she begged me to stop. I obliged and switched hands. Her left armpit hasn't even been touched yet!

I switched strategies to keep her guessing and used some more intense techniques. I placed my thumb on her armpit and lightly scratched all over the center of her hollow. I slowly began to press harder and harder and I could tell it began to tickle more and more. She was getting tired and I had an idea.

I sat on her legs and went after both of her armpits. Spider tickling her hollows had her silently laughing, choking out an occasional "please" with her exhales.

I unpinned her arms and she sat up as she catched her breath. "That's it right? You got my actual worst spots." I quietly shook my head and pointed to her feet. Well, more specifically, her foot. She was injured in the past and essentially no longer feels ticklish on her left leg downward. BUT for some reason, it's as if all of the sensitivity that was once in her left foot into her right one.

"Fine. But just for a minute." I started my timer and had my gun. I pulled her toes back with my hand and scribbled right underneath them with my nails. I clawed at her sole. I dug my fingers into the tops of her foot. She loses it. We didn't even make it to a minute before she safeworded. And that was that. She caught her breath before letting out a weak "that was fun." We ended up going back to watch the rest of our stupid playlist, adding more laughter to the already jubilant evening.