#but the flip side is that they don't go AWAY they last literal days

[thedreadvampy]

think I figured out why I've been in a full trauma trigger state for the last week+ and iiiiiiit is embarrassing

it's because I went on a nice date that I enjoyed

and in the background without even TALKING TO ME ABOUT IT my brain decided to start freaking the fuck out about the inevitability of abuse and the essential harm I do by existing in the world. but like. in the background. to the degree that I have at most been vaguely aware that that's even a thought process I was having let alone that it was what was distressing me.

but I have laid out some timelines of when I entered 24/7-panic-attack mode and it lines up precisely to going home after a nice date. for fuck's sake.

trauma is stupid and emotions are dumb. and if trauma shit is going to fuck up my whole week my brain could at least have the good grace to tell me what I'm upset about.

[witchywithwhiskey]

first and last

pairing: childhood best friend!steve rogers x female reader

summary: after more than a decade away from your home town—and your childhood best friend—you return. everything is exactly the same, but also, entirely different.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), fluff, angst, smut, drunken antics, some arguing, drunk masturbation (f) with an audience, semi-public, choking, dirty talk, praise kink, begging, boundaries, very light bdsm vibes, references to past sexual intimacy (piv sex, oral sex [f receiving]), nicknames (buttercup, baby), aftercare

word count: 8.8k

a/n: this is my entry in @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar Challenge, and i've been working on it since june so i'm very excited to post it!!! i wanted to make a sundae i'd actually eat so i used the prompts Butterscotch (childhood friends) and Caramel (drunk/delirious/not in their right mind). it also might be a bit literal to have Steve working at an ice cream shop but whatever!!

i mentioned when i teased this fic that i'd thought about turning it into a much longer story/potentially saving it for a novel, but honestly i just don't know when or if i'll ever have time to do that. but these scenes don't necessarily follow right after each other, so if they feel disconnected, that's why. they're just the ones i wanted to write 😅

The sidewalk of Brambleberry Cove was warm from a full day under the August sun, the concrete gritty with sand beneath your bare feet as you walked the rest of the short distance to Seaside Scoops from your rental house a few blocks away. 

The sun dipped low on the western horizon, casting long shadows over the coastal town like stretching fingers reaching for the Atlantic Ocean. You could hear the steady sound of the crashing waves over the near distant sand dunes, their rhythm a background to your walk. 

It could’ve been a peaceful moment—you were back in your home town, surrounded by familiar sights and sounds and smells. But you were in a wretched mood, and all you could focus on was everything wrong with the world and your current place in it.

There was, of course, the throbbing pain in your big toe from when you’d stubbed it moments ago on the cursed, charming sidewalk, as well as the slight sting on the sides of your foot where your flip flop straps had torn. Your ruined shoes dangled from your fingers because Brambleberry Cove didn’t have a trash can on every street corner like the city you were accustomed to living in. 

In addition to those grievances, the straps of your bathing suit—which you hadn’t worn in far too long and hadn’t realized had become too small—were digging into your shoulders and hips uncomfortably. And, though you’d only been walking for five minutes from the little bungalow you were renting, your thighs were already beginning to chafe beneath the simple dress you’d thrown on. 

All told, you were not in the mood to appreciate the simple beauty of Brambleberry Cove. Instead of admiring the sun-bleached cottages that gave way to the small coastal shops lining main street, and letting yourself sink into the comfort of being back in your tiny beachside home town, you were fixated on everything wrong in your life—both in that moment and the larger scheme of things.

In your defense, though, there was a lot wrong in your life. There’d had to be to get you back to your home town after so long away. 

There was the dream job you’d lost, the ex who’d left you for someone else, and the friends who’d all promised to be there for you, but then vanished when you actually needed help. The only people who’d come through for you were your parents, who’d had a friend willing to rent a little Brambleberry Cove bungalow to you for a fraction of its normal summer price since it was already August and they weren’t going to make much more money anyway. 

You’d had to pack up and leave the city where you’d built your life for 15 years, and move back to your home town, which you hadn’t seen in nearly that long since your parents had moved out west shortly after you’d graduated high school. Being back home made you feel like you weren’t only taking a single step backward, but moving leaps and bounds in the wrong direction. It made you feel like a failure. 

But you tried not to think about all that on your short walk to Seaside Scoops, instead focusing on the pain in your toe and the digging ache of your bathing suit. 

By the time you saw the familiar neon sign for the ice cream shop, it felt like finding an oasis in the desert. You picked up your pace, ignoring the way your body protested, the soles of your feet no longer used to walking on the sandy sidewalk like you’d done countless times growing up in Brambleberry Cove. 

You could see through the window that there was a short line in Seaside Scoops, and you hurriedly pushed through the door of the shop. Once inside, you breathed in the familiar scent of sugar and hot fudge and reveled in the feel of the air conditioner ghosting over your sun-warmed shoulders. 

Surreptitiously, you shoved your ruined flip flops into the garbage just inside the door and got in line behind the couple with their two small children. You glanced around the shop, not really taking it in, and hoped whoever was working behind the counter was still lax on the ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’ rule that had theoretically been in place since before you were born—but had never been enforced in practice. 

Finally looking to the counter, wondering idly if you’d recognize who was working or if it’d be some local teen that had been a baby the last time you’d been to Brambleberry Cove, you were shocked to see who was working at Seaside Scoops. Your belly swooped like you were standing on a boat on the choppy sea, your heart racing when you recognized the man behind the counter. At one time, he’d been the boy you’d shared so much of your childhood with, so many of your summers with. 

When you got a good look at him, you were almost surprised you recognized him so fast. He was no longer the scrawny teenager you’d left behind when you’d gone off to college and never looked back. He looked so different from the boy you’d known well enough you could recall his face in perfect detail, but, in so many ways, exactly the same.

On the whole, it was a shock to see the man Steve Rogers had become. 

Sandy brown hair fell on either side of his handsome, suntanned face, swept back like he had a habit of running his hands through it countless times a day. A short, well-kept beard decorated his strong jaw, bracketing a set of soft pink lips that were curved in a devastating grin. His bright blue eyes sparkled beneath the fluorescent lights of the shop, and when he spoke to the family in front of you in line, his voice rumbled like the distant roar of the ocean.

Seeing Steve Rogers for the first time in over 15 years made something loosen in your chest, anxiety uncoiling from around your heart and shaking free for the first time in a long time. A sense of safety and comfort washed over you, and you had the sudden thought that this was how you were supposed to feel about coming home. 

But you shoved that thought aside and continued your perusal of your childhood best friend, making note of all the ways he’d changed from the boy you’d known.

Thick, golden biceps were bare and bulging beneath the edge of his white t-shirt, and dense, brown hair covered corded forearms as Steve folded his arms on top of the ice cream case. He was tall—tall enough to lean over the case to talk to the kids with the couple in front of you, asking them about their favorite ice cream flavors and if they’d like to try anything new.

The kids, a boy and a girl, both stared up at him with wide eyes, shyness and wonder clear in their twin expressions. They looked to their parents for permission before shyly revealing what flavors they’d like to try. Steve gave a deep, hearty chuckle at their timidness, and complimented them on their choices, which seemed to make them both loosen up a bit.

Inexplicable heat flushed through your body at the sound of Steve’s deep laughter, and the easiness with which he interacted with the kids. You’d never been particularly good with children, mainly because you’d never had much of a chance to interact with any, and you’d never felt any particular desire to be around them. But seeing Steve looking like he did talking to those kids made your belly swoop again and something inside you pulse with a need you didn’t want to fully unpack.

Shoving those thoughts into a box in the back corner of your mind, you forced yourself to look away from your childhood friend and up at the menu that listed all the ice cream flavors. You’d been to Seaside Scoops hundreds of times in your life, if not thousands, and, at one time, you’d had the list memorized. 

Hopefully you still had that knowledge tucked away somewhere in your brain, because you weren’t taking in anything you were reading as you not-so-patiently waited for Steve to finish up with the customers in front of you.

It felt like forever, and by the time the family took their cups and cones of ice cream toward the side door that opened up into an outdoor seating area, you’d already cycled through three rounds of the same argument with yourself about why you should leave Seaside Scoops without talking to Steve. You couldn’t imagine your first conversation in 15 years going well.

But you couldn’t leave without talking to him. Not when he was right there and it had been so long and you were dying to know everything that he’d done in the last 15 years since you saw him last. 

Still, it took you a few extra seconds to gather the courage to lower your eyes from the menu board and finally look at your childhood friend. When you did, your gaze caught immediately on Steve’s, and your heart gave a little flip at the devastatingly charming smile on his impossibly handsome face.

“Hey there, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, his tone as friendly and familiar as it had always been. All of a sudden, it felt like no time had passed at all. 

“Hi, Steve,” you said, trying for the same casualness he’d achieved, but your voice sounded faint and faraway in your ears. The corners of your mouth flickered in a tremulous smile.

You couldn’t understand the surge of emotion filling your chest and rising in your throat, pricking at the backs of your eyes like you wanted to throw yourself into your oldest friend’s arms and sob about everything wrong in your life. 

The same deluge of emotion had hit you when you’d stubbed your toe on your walk to Seaside Scoops and you’d had to stand there by yourself, sucking in deep breaths of salty Brambleberry Cove air, nails biting into the flesh of your palms to keep yourself from breaking down. 

Just as you’d done then, you beat back the emotion, blinking your eyes rapidly to rid them of tears. Still, a thought needled you as you stood across the counter from Steve—the knowledge that if you did let yourself break down and cry, he wouldn’t hesitate to fold you into that broad chest of his, wrapping you up in his thick arms and holding you so securely, the world might not seem so grim anymore. 

You chalked it up to nostalgia and the rough time you were having, forcing yourself to take a deep breath and paste on a bright smile. Casting your eyes around Seaside Scoops, you pretended to give the place a real look, though you didn’t really notice much as you continued to blink back tears. 

“You work here now?” you asked lightly, looking at the new standee in the corner.

It was a cartoon shark holding up a sign advertising Seaside Scoops and their many ice cream flavors. But what caught your eye was that it looked a bit like the shark Steve had drawn for you when you’d gotten a bad grade sophomore year and wanted to cheer you up. It even had the same little sailor hat sitting perched on top of his head—which only made sense because sharks didn’t have blowholes, he’d told you at the time.

You’d smiled then, and you smiled again remembering it.

“Uhh,” Steve started, and you turned tear-free eyes back on your old friend, your gaze drawn to the way his bicep bulged against the sleeve of his t-shirt as he scuffed the back of his neck. There was a little bit of a sheepish tinge to his smile. “I actually own Scoops now,” he said in a rush, like he was confessing to something, though you couldn’t imagine what. “I bought it when Mr. Wallace retired down to Florida.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say, glancing around the ice cream shop with a keener eye.

The shark standee wasn’t the only new thing in the place. Everything, from the tables and chairs to the menu board and counter, looked slightly newer than you remembered. Nothing was wildly different, which was why you hadn’t noticed it when you first looked around. Everything just looked better than it should if it had aged a decade since you’d last stepped into the shop.

Something about it made you think Seaside Scoops looked exactly like your memory of it—but the polished, perfect version in your head, instead of the place as it had been. Yellowed with age and a lack of upkeep. It was genuinely astounding what Steve had done with the place and it took you a few moments to find the right words, though they still felt pale in comparison to the bittersweet nostalgia in your heart.

“The place looks great,” you said with a half smile as you turned back to Steve. A small thread of pride wormed through your heart at seeing what your oldest friend had accomplished and your smile widened when he brightened under your praise. “I like the shark,” you said, hooking a thumb over your shoulder at the standee. 

A bit of pink tinted Steve’s cheeks above his beard, and he cleared his throat. 

“Is a dipped twist still your favorite?” he asked, clearly trying to change the subject and your smile dimmed just a little. The Steve you’d known had been shy about showing his art to anyone but you, and it seemed that you’d been gone long enough to be lumped in with everyone else. 

You swallowed back a lump in your throat and nodded. “Yeah, that’s still my favorite,” you answered, more than a little surprised Steve remembered your order.

Sure, you’d gone to Seaside Scoops together countless times as kids. It had been your hangout spot for most of your childhood, and even into your teen years. You’d study together over a cup of cookie dough with sprinkles for Steve and a cone of vanilla and chocolate softserve dipped in chocolate sauce for you. But that was more than a decade ago.

Your heart gave a heavy squeeze when you remembered the night before you’d left Brambleberry Cove, the way Steve reminded you of the promise you’d made as children—that you’d always be friends. Your stomach twisted into knots as you were confronted with the reality that you hadn’t kept up your end of the deal. You’d left, and you’d allowed your oldest friend to become a stranger. 

You wondered if Steve remembered the promise you’d made, the reminder he’d given you as a parting gift, or if he’d forgotten. You wondered if he’d ever want to be friends again.

Steve’s back was to you, his wrist flicking expertly beneath the softserve machine as he filled up a sugar cone with the twist of chocolate and vanilla. You forced yourself to push aside the memories of the past, blinking back more tears before Steve could catch them in your eyes. 

You and Steve weren’t friends anymore, and you needed to accept that. It was unreasonable to hold him to a promise he’d made more than two decades ago, especially when you were the one who’d left and had barely tried to stay in touch between college classes and exploring your new city.

With a great amount of effort, you kept your mind blissfully blank as you let your gaze trail idly over Steve’s broad back, unable to stop yourself from noticing just how wide his shoulders were, or the way they moved beneath the soft, worn cotton of his t-shirt. He really did fill out the shirt well, his sides tapering down to a thin waist. And his ass looked particularly good in the curve-hugging denim of his jeans. 

As Steve turned around, you raised your eyes quickly and arranged your expression into one of innocence. Steve paused, giving you a shrewd look like he would’ve done when you were teenagers and you were hiding something from him, but then he just shook his head and laughed under his breath, turning to the chocolate sauce where he’d dip your ice cream cone. 

“So, what brings you back to Brambleberry Cove, buttercup?” Steve asked, his gaze focusing on dipping your ice cream just right, a look of determination on his face that was endlessly endearing. 

You grimaced at the exact moment he glanced up at you, and he chuckled at the face you made. The sound was smooth as warm caramel and sent a new wave of heat rolling down your spine. 

“That bad, huh?” he asked, genuine interest in his tone.

Although there was a point in your life when you could’ve told Steve anything, and the urge to do so still lingered deep in your bones, you knew your relationship was different. You couldn’t dump all your problems on your childhood friend after not talking to him for 15 years. You didn’t even know if you were still friends anymore. 

Plus, there was a small crowd gathering behind you as the late dinner rush started to filter into Seaside Scoops. Even if you’d wanted to tell Steve everything that had happened to you in the 15 years since you’d last seen him, it wasn’t the time. 

So you just gave him a sad smile and accepted the ice cream cone from Steve’s hand, ignoring the butterflies and ticklish warmth that fluttered through your body at his touch. You gripped the sugar cone tight—but not too tight—so you didn’t fumble it. 

“Yeah,” you whispered in answer to his question, leaving it at that. There was an awkward beat, and your eyes dropped to the ice cream that was already beginning to melt despite the air conditioning in the shop. Thankfully, you had an easy way to move past Steve’s questions. 

You pulled some cash from the wristlet where you’d also stashed your phone and I.D., asking, “What do I owe you?” because you figured it must’ve been more expensive than what you remembered. And you didn’t want to risk looking up at the menu and catching Steve’s eye, not wanting any of the emotions or heat that seemed to flood you whenever you looked at him.

But a large, warm, golden hand closed over your fumbling fingers, startling you enough to look up into the sky blue eyes of your childhood friend. Your lips fell open in surprise as tingling warmth worked its way up your arm from your hand, wrapping around your heart and making it beat harder. 

For a long moment, you simply stared at each other. Steve really had grown up and changed so much, the evidence in the weathered grooves of his forehead and the lines between his brows, but his eyes still looked the same—soft as clouds, warm as the summer sun. 

“It’s on the house,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest, the thrum of some emotion you couldn’t identify laced through his words. “It was nice to see an old friend,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze before he pulled his away.

It wasn’t until Steve straightened up to his full height that you realized he’d been leaning over the counter, and your faces had been very close together. Heat crept into your cheeks at the realization that Steve had been in your personal space, and all you’d thought about was his eyes. 

Shoving all the money in your hand into the tip jar, you muttered, “Thanks, Steve.” As you zipped up your wristlet, you noticed that some of your ice cream was in danger of dripping onto your hand.

Without thinking, you licked quickly around the edge of the sugar cone, a soft moan slipping free when the cool sweetness of the ice cream hit your brain.

Steve made a strangled sound that dragged your attention away from your treat, finding your childhood best friend looking away and coughing into his fist, a deeper pink flushing his cheeks. You quirked your eyebrow in confusion when he looked back at you, but his expression gave nothing away and you had to wonder if you’d imagined the noise. It had almost sounded…aroused.

Shaking that thought clear from your mind, you gave Steve a smile and began to step away from the counter so he could help the next customer.

Steve’s eyes lingered on you, and he offered you one last charming, friendly smile, raising his hand in a wave. “Don’t be a stranger, buttercup,” he rumbled, his low words managing to reach your ears over the chatter in the shop. He gave you a long look, emotion swirling in those familiar eyes of his, and your breath caught in your throat.

The intensity of his gaze and the warmth in his parting words hit you straight in the gut, and you stood stunned in front of the register while Steve turned and walked to the other end of the ice cream case to help the next people in line. 

For a long moment, you couldn’t get over the way Steve had been able to read your mind, to pluck the thought that you were strangers to each other out of your brain and then tell you he didn’t want that to be the case. Your mind raced with questions. Did he still think of you as friends? Did he remember the promise you’d made all those years ago to always be friends? How did he know the exact right thing to say? 

But then the rational side of your brain resurfaced from wherever your heart had momentarily buried it, and you remembered his farewell was a normal thing for people to say to each other. Especially people who hadn’t seen each other in a while and likely would again because they both lived in a very small town. That’s all it was, just a normal goodbye. 

Not Steve Rogers somehow reading your mind because he knew you so well. 

With those rationalities ringing in your head, you dashed out of Seaside Scoops and it wasn’t until your feet had carried you to the next block that you remembered your broken shoes and stubbed toe and chafed thighs. 

But those problems didn’t seem quite so bad anymore. Not with the delicious ice cream cone in your hand, and the sunset casting Brambleberry Cove in gorgeous, golden light—and especially not with Steve’s warm, honeyed voice ringing in your head, calling you buttercup. 

It had felt so normal to hear the nickname roll off Steve’s tongue that you hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t realized how long it had been since you’d last heard it. But, just as it had when you were younger, it filled your chest with a bright, golden warmth. You grinned to yourself as you strolled back to your little bungalow, licking up the melting ice cream as fast as you could.

Your mood was decidedly better, and you enjoyed the walk home, refusing to think too much about why exactly you felt lighter and happier and less miserable about being home in Brambleberry Cove than you had before going to Seaside Scoops. It was just the ice cream, obviously. There was no other reason.

“You’re staring.” Steve’s voice was low, the undercurrent of laughter in it almost mixing with the sounds of the distant waves. You could hear them through the open windows of his truck as he eased the vehicle down the winding road leading away from the docks on the north side of Brambleberry Cove. 

His comment dragged you out of your drunken haze, and you took a deep breath to get your bearings. Your lungs filled with the salty nighttime air of the sea and the earthy leather interior of your childhood best friend’s truck, a small smile curling the corners of your lips and your eyes sliding closed. When you forced them back open, you realized he was right.

Huh, you really were staring at Steve. 

Your head was swiveled to the side, your cheek pressed to the brown leather of the seat back, your eyes fixed on the profile of his face that was highlighted in the glossy silver of the moon and warmed by the golden light of the town’s street lamps. 

You couldn’t find it in yourself to feel embarrassed or ashamed for staring at Steve, though. And it was at that moment you realized you were drunk. 

It didn’t surprise you. After all, you were the one who’d thrown on some jean shorts and a cute top and then took yourself to Shanty’s, the only place in Brambleberry Cove to go if you were a local looking to avoid tourists. 

You’d been happy to see Bucky Barnes, your other oldest friend after Steve, manning the bar. But you’d been much less happy with him when he’d insisted on calling Steve to take you home after you’d downed more than your fair share of liquor. 

It was probably for the best, though. You were drunk and horny and if you weren’t careful, you would’ve gone home with Brock Rumlow. Just thinking about it made you grimace at yourself and your poor almost-decisions. 

Focusing back on Steve, you couldn’t fault Bucky too much for calling your old friend to pick you up—not when it had ended with you able to watch his side profile while he kept his eyes on the road. It felt practically shameful to indulge yourself so much. That is, if you’d had any shame left, but you’d drowned it all in alcohol.

“You’re still staring, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, the humor clearer in his tone. The edges of his mouth were flickering beneath the silvery golden light of Brambleberry Cove at night and you knew he was trying to suppress a smile. It was fascinating to watch, but then Steve rubbed his hand across his mouth, scrubbing through his beard, and it broke you free of your drunken trance.

“I just can’t get over how different you look,” you huffed, raising your arms and flopping them back against the seat in your best approximation of a shrug. “And how exactly the same.” 

Steve barked a laugh, the sharp sound bringing a smile instantly to your face. You’d never heard him laugh like that, and you couldn’t help but love that you were still discovering new things about him, even after knowing him all your life. 

He glanced over at you, his expression bemused like he was sure you were drunker than he’d thought. You probably were, but that didn’t stop you from being right, and you tried to convey that in the brief moment he looked at you. 

Steve’s gaze slid quickly down your body, not like he was checking you out—more like he was checking to make sure your seatbelt was still buckled and you weren’t in danger of doing anything ridiculous. You were only in danger of saying ridiculous things, at least, according to him apparently. He shook his head after he’d turned back to watching the road.

“You’re gonna have to explain that one to me, buttercup,” Steve said, a little bit of gruffness in his tone. He cleared his throat before he went on. “Usually when someone we went to high school with comes back, they tell me they never woulda recognized me.” 

You gave an unladylike snort, drawing another surprised laugh out of Steve before he bit off the sound to let you speak.

“Well those people should have their eyes checked,” you muttered scornfully, pushing yourself up from where you’d been slumped against the warm leather seat. You twisted your body in your seat so you were facing Steve, your eyes tracing the lines of his face from across the cab. “You still have the same eyes,” you pointed out vehemently, as if Steve was arguing with you, even though he wasn’t. “And your nose still has that little bump in it, and your lips are still so soft and full…”

You trailed off, realizing far too late that you were saying your inside thoughts out loud. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you watched Steve as he processed what you’d said—the way his fingers scratched a little nervously at his beard, those twin lines forming between his brows. Your gazed traced every curve and line and divot in his face, examining his expression, wanting to memorize it and save it for the rest of your life. 

“I don’t think any of those people noticed those things,” Steve murmured, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it over the slight breeze drifting through the windows while he drove through town. 

Your heart lurched at the implication of Steve’s words, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take them back, even if they were dangerously close to revealing something you hadn’t even had the courage to admit to yourself yet. 

Instead, you focused on your anger at the hypothetical people who weren’t recognizing Steve just because he’d grown up, gotten tall, gotten buff, grown out his hair and his beard and looked altogether very different to the skinny teenager he’d been.

“If they didn’t see those things, they didn’t really see you,” you muttered to yourself, indignant on Steve’s behalf, but trying to keep it to yourself. Apparently, you weren’t good at moderating the volume of your voice, because Steve snorted at your remark. 

“No, no one ever saw me as well as you did, buttercup,” Steve said, his voice low and warm, and your heart promptly rioted in your chest. 

There was something so dizzyingly wonderful about hearing Steve say such intimate words to you in that deep, caramel voice of his, genuine affection shining through his tone. It took your breath away for a moment, and your brain short-circuited. 

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him…something. The thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself yet. But you were still you, and your brain tripped at the last moment, and instead you blurted, “Do you ever think about our first time?”

Steve choked on a snort, his eyes darting to you with honest surprise. You couldn’t blame him. You’d had no idea those words were gonna spill from your mouth until they were out, but you supposed they weren’t as bad as what you’d almost confessed, so you didn’t try to take them back or change the topic of conversation. You waited with bated breath for Steve’s response, and whether he remembered your night together when you were both 18.

When he saw you were anticipating his answer, he spluttered, “You mean when I came three seconds after getting inside you?” 

You began to smile, because he remembered, but then Steve continued talking.

“Y’know, I told Bucky about that once,” he said, his eyes fixed so fully on the road that you got the impression he didn’t want to meet your gaze and your stomach plummeted. “I was drunk, and didn’t know if it really counted as sex. Bucky was no help, of course—he said he didn’t know either since it was so quick.” 

Something new was swirling in your gut, and for long moments you could only sit there on the warm leather of the truck and stew in that hot, feral feeling. It must’ve showed on your face because, when Steve finally looked over at you after you’d been quiet for so long, the truck lurched forward, his foot pressing too hard to the gas.

“Don’t worry,” he rushed to say, guessing at what was upsetting you and guessing wrong. “I didn’t tell him it was with you.”

“Don’t you dare,” you snarled, the words bursting out of you with a ferocity you’d never used in your life, let alone when talking to Steve. But you were furious all of a sudden, and it wasn’t until the words were spilling from your mouth that you understood why you were so angry. “Don’t you dare try to take this away from me, Steven Grant Rogers.” Your voice was seething and barely recognizable, but you couldn’t stop. “You were my first, and it was perfect—because it was you.” 

Steve glanced over at you, something like shock written across his face, but when he looked back at the road, his brows settled low over his eyes. The muscle in his jaw popped and you knew he was grinding his teeth together, taking his time to gather his thoughts before he spoke. It took him a long moment to respond.

“You deserved better.”

The noise of your scoff was loud, even to your ears, and you strained against the seatbelt still buckling you into the passenger seat as you leaned toward your childhood friend.

“You ate me out until I came three times, Steve!” you cried, holding up three fingers as if the adult man your friend had grown into somehow didn’t know how many three was. “No man has ever made me come so many times in one night as you did then.” 

When Steve still didn’t look at you, just kept driving with his hands gripping the wheel and the muscle in his jaw popping, you huffed an exasperated sound and flopped back into your seat. Your back was to the leather as you crossed your arms over your chest and stared out at Brambleberry Cove through the open passenger side window. 

The silence grew until it was suffocating, and you needed to break it. So you said the first thing that came to mind. Again.

“You’re who I think about when I touch myself, Steve.” Your words drifted from your side of the truck to the other, carried on the light breeze floating through the cab. “I think about you and that night, and it gets me off every single time.”

Steve made a strangled kind of sound, like a growl that was torn free from his throat against his will. Then he was quiet, and he was quiet for so long, you thought that was the only reaction you’d get to admitting the truth. Until…

“I think about you, too, buttercup.”

The confession hung in the air between you, settling heavily onto the leather bench seat in Steve’s truck, the air rushing in through the open windows buffetting around it. 

You didn’t feel Steve’s admission sink into you. There was simply a before and an after. And in the after, you were moving. You were unbuckling your seatbelt and scooting across the seat toward Steve until your bare knee brushed against the denim of his jeans. 

He shot a startled look in your direction—which, in a distant part of your brain, you registered as completely adorable—before quickly pulling over to the side of the road. He was just throwing the truck into park when you slid into his lap, straddling his thighs and pressing your chest to his. 

“We should do it again,” you purred, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning close. When Steve didn’t respond right away, just kept giving you that surprised look, you thought he might not have understood you, so you explained, “Have sex.”

Steve closed his eyes and a light tremor shuddered through his body as his hands settled respectfully on your waist, a few of his fingers brushing the skin where the edge of your tank top didn’t quite meet the waist of your shorts. Then, it was your turn to shudder, the feeling of his warm, calloused hands against your bare skin making heat flood between your thighs, your core warming and your body melting into your old friend’s hands.

“Please, Steve,” you whispered, tipping your head forward until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his, so close you could taste mint chocolate chip ice cream on his tongue and it took everything in you not to lick into his mouth desperately. Your voice was practically a whine as you went on, “Let’s see if we can do better this time.” 

Steve’s hands shifted to your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to almost hurt, and you thought he was going to give in. But then he swallowed audibly, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and he pushed you gently away, his head tilting back against the leather seat so your lips no longer teased him with an almost-kiss.

“You’re drunk, buttercup.”

Steve’s voice was a delicious rasp, and you couldn’t help but shiver at the sound of it even as the meaning of his words settled into your drunken mind. You pouted at your childhood friend, hoping the fact that he hadn’t pushed you off his lap entirely meant he wasn’t saying no.

“And horny,” you said, the words slipping from your lips on another whine. Of their own volition, your hips squirmed on your oldest friend’s lap, trying to get closer, trying to find some kind of friction to work against the aching heat pulsing between your thighs. But Steve’s firm grip held you in place. “Stevie.” His name was nothing but a pathetic whimper. 

A low growl rumbled in Steve’s chest, and then one of his hands was abandoning your hip to cup your face, tilting it up so he could loom over you. The lines of his face were hard, stubborn, and the look in his eyes left no room for argument. 

“You know I won’t touch you when you’re drunk,” he bit out, his voice soft, but as firm as his hold on your body.

A memory slammed into you—you and Steve planning your first time together. You’d made a deal at the start of high school that if neither of you lost your virginity through all four years, then before going off to college, you’d lose it together. 

When the time came, you’d been a little nervous, even though it was Steve, and you’d joked that you could take some wine coolers to the beach and get it over with, just like all the other kids in your school. Even then, Steve had looked at you stubbornly, and said, without a shred of willingness to waver, that he wouldn’t touch you if you were drunk.

Back then, it had sent a shiver down your spine, and it had much the same effect more than a decade later in his truck. Your body trembled with arousal, and you pushed feebly against Steve’s hold—not really trying to break it, just enjoying the feeling that came from realizing how strong he was. Those biceps and corded forearms of his weren’t just for show.

“What about just the tip?” you murmured, the words tumbling past your lips before you could think better of them, knowing there was no use trying to argue with Steve when he’d made a decision. But you were clearly thinking with something other than your brain, because the words kept coming. “That’s not sex, just the tip—please, Steve.” You were begging shamelessly, but your shame and embarrassment were still nowhere to be found since you were still definitely drunk.

Steve’s jaw ticked so hard, you could’ve sworn you heard the muscle pop in the quiet of his truck as he ground his teeth together. 

“Buttercup,” he growled, a warning in his tone. “That’s not happening.”

Your fists gathered in the front of Steve’s t-shirt and you yanked on it restlessly, not trying to do anything more than annoy him. “Whyyy,” you whined, drawing out the word until it was nearly a wail. Unslaked heat burned in your blood and, while you knew why he was refusing to have sex with you, in the moment, you couldn’t understand why your oldest friend was torturing you.

Steve’s hand slid down from your cheek to wrap around the front of your throat, and you stilled immediately, something about the possessive, dominant gesture making you calm. That was new, Steve hadn’t done anything like that when you’d first been together, but you liked it more than you would’ve expected. Your lips were still parted, your panting breaths gusting out of them, your heart racing, and you were finally calm and quiet.

Your oldest friend’s eyes roamed over you, taking in your reaction. At first he seemed surprised, but then a glint of something you’d never seen before sparked to life in the depths of his blue eyes. You watched his gaze drop to your mouth, and nearly whimpered at the way the corner of his lips flickered in the ghost of a smirk. But then he fixed his gaze back on yours, pinning you in place with that stubborn look in his eye, though it was slightly dimmed in favor of that new, hungry glimmer. 

“I won’t fuck you only to wake up tomorrow and find out you regret it,” Steve said, enunciating all his words clearly despite the fact that his teeth were grinding together “That you only wanted it because you needed to scratch an itch.” 

Your lungs dragged in a soundless gasp and you finally understood his reticence, even if you couldn’t imagine ever regretting doing anything with Steve. But when you opened your mouth to protest, Steve’s fingers squeezed the sides of your throat. 

Your words died on your tongue, and your mouth went slack, your eyes going hazy with pleasure. You couldn’t have been more obvious that you liked the way Steve choked you if you tried. And he read your enjoyment easily from the expression on your face, that look of hunger sparking brighter in Steve’s eyes before he went on.

“When I fuck you again,” he growled, his words a promise. “I don’t want you drunk on anything but my cock.”

“Stevie,” you whined his nickname again, the name only you were allowed to call him, your lips forming into a pout. It hadn’t escaped your notice that he’d said ‘when’, and not ‘if’, about having sex with you again, but you didn’t want to push your luck. And besides, unslaked need was still burning brightly through your body, consuming most of your focus. “I need…something, please.” You let out a little whimper and squirmed in his lap again, unable to stop yourself.

Steve huffed a laugh, his thumb stroking down the side of your neck, over your thrumming pulsepoint, while the fingers of his other hand slipped half an inch into the waist of your shorts, only far enough to dig harder into your soft curves.  

“I’m not going to touch you more than this, buttercup,” Steve began, his voice a low, delicious rumble that you swore you could feel in the clenching of your core. “But I didn’t say anything about stopping you from touching yourself.”

Your eyes widened in excitement, and you wasted no time in acting on the implication in Steve’s words. Holding his gaze, one of your hands slipped free from his shirt and trailed down your body. When you reached between your thighs, the backs of your fingers brushed against a thick bulge in the front of Steve’s jeans. 

It twitched against your soft touch, and you gasped in delight, loving the proof that Steve’s body recognized you just as much as his mind.

But when you twisted your hand, intent on giving Steve’s bulge a friendly squeeze, his hand darted down from your hips to your wrist, his fingers circling around you and stilling your hand. “Buttercup,” he rumbled, another warning. 

A shiver raced down your spine and you reveled in the way it made you feel to hear Steve say your nickname like that. It occurred to you that it was new—you’d never heard him say it quite like that before, with frustration and arousal flooding his tone. 

You wanted to hear every flavor of your nickname on Steve’s tongue. You wanted to hear him whisper it like a prayer, and groan it into your lips while he kissed you. You wanted to hear Steve shout your nickname while he came with you. 

But the look in Steve’s eyes was stubborn again, and you knew you’d have to wait to hear all the ways he could say your nickname. 

“OK, Steve, ‘m sorry,” you mumbled, twisting your hand in his hold and pressing the tips of your fingers to the seam of your shorts, your hips jerking forward to seek more of the friction you offered yourself. 

Steve’s hold loosened, but he didn’t let go of you entirely, like he didn’t trust you just yet. But you didn’t care, your fingers were pressing into your clit through the thin denim of your shorts, and you were rocking your hips to grind against them, your wetness soaking through your panties almost immediately.

The moment when your fingers found just the right spot, you sucked in a sharp breath, your spine arching and your hips pressing down hard against your hand. Your head tipped back, your eyes narrowing into slits as you held Steve’s gaze. You moaned while you rubbed tight circles against your clit through your shorts.

“I’m going to come embarrassingly fast,” you huffed in warning, your chest heaving already with labored breaths. 

But Steve only smirked, a touch of smugness in the curve of his lips.

“Don’t worry, buttercup, I remember exactly how sensitive your sweet little clit is,” he rumbled, and you moaned loudly. His fingers flexed against your throat, digging in enough to quiet your sounds and making your eyes widen as your hips lurched in their rhythm. He chuckled at your reaction before continuing on.

“I remember sucking on your puffy little pearl, your thighs squeezing my head, my fingers buried deep in your tight, warm hole,” Steve purred, seemingly knowing exactly what to say to drive your pleasure higher. “I remember the exact way your pussy gripped my fingers when you came, like you wanted me deeper—deep enough that you could feel me in your belly.” 

“God, Steve,” you groaned, your head falling back listlessly on your shoulders, too heavy to keep it up. But Steve’s fingers dug into the back of your neck, and you understood the wordless command immediately. You lifted your head and caught your oldest friend’s eye while you kept rubbing your clit, pushing yourself closer to coming apart in his lap. 

“I remember how big your cock felt inside me,” you confessed, spurred on by Steve’s own filthy words. “I remember how long it took for you to sink your thick, fat cock into my tight pussy.” You paused only to take a quick, hitching breath. “I was already so close when you came, and I remember, I thought, maybe if you hadn’t been wearing a condom, maybe I would’ve come, too.” 

The lines of Steve’s face shifted, hardening, his jaw ticking wildly and his eyes going molten fierce, like the blue at the center a campfire that burns too hot to sit near. 

“Don’t fucking say that, buttercup,” Steve growled, his voice gravelly like he was chewing on seashells. “If I hadn’t been wearing a condom, I would’ve come so much faster—I never woulda made it all the way inside you. Woulda been coming with just my tip inside your warm, wet pussy, baby—woulda been too risky, buttercup.” 

Your eyes wanted to fall closed as you moaned, but you didn’t let them. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Steve, not with that furious and ferocious hunger in his eyes, his desire for you etched into every single line and curve of his face. 

You were so close. You just needed a little more to push you over the edge.

“Fuck, Steve, I know I shouldn’t, but I love the thought of you coming inside me, filling me up, making me yours,” you confessed, the words bubbling up from the very depths of your soul. It was on the tip of your tongue again, that thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself. Instead of letting it free, you moaned, long and loud, your fingers rubbing faster against your clit and your hips grinding against your hand. 

“Christ, baby,” Steve gritted through tightly clenched teeth. His fingers were digging into your hip again, diving further beneath the waist of your shorts, nearly skimming the edge of your panties. His other hand tightened around your throat and dragged you into him, until your face was right in front of his and he could watch every twitch and change in your expression as you pleasured yourself. 

“Come on, baby,” he said, his voice urgent with need. “Come before I do something we’ll both regret.” 

The hand that wasn’t wedged between your thighs pressed to the center of Steve’s chest, just above his heart, and a moment later, you felt his warm palm cover it. He was still holding your throat, his fingers digging into the sides hard enough that you knew he could feel your fluttering pulse beneath his touch. And you could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm, the rapid pace nearly matching the frantic one in your chest.

“Come, buttercup, come for me,” Steve commanded, his eyes holding yours. For a moment, it felt like he could see straight into your soul. It was a scorching intimacy you hadn’t felt since that night you’d first been with Steve, and you were helpless to it.

“Stevie,” you cried his name as your pleasure rose up and consumed you, sending you over the edge into a earth-quaking orgasm. Your body writhed in Steve’s lap, your hips grinding gracelessly against your hand as you collapsed forward, leaning into the grip of his hand around your throat. You sobbed your pleasure, the waves of your release wracking your body for long moments.

Eventually, the final swell ebbed and the last of your energy receded with it. Your damp forehead fell against Steve’s cool, dry one and you struggled to catch your breath. His hand slipped from the front of your throat around to the back of your neck and he smoothed it down your spine. 

He held you close, whispering in your ear, “Such a good girl, buttercup, you did so good.”

Once you finally settled, Steve shifted, his beard grazing your lips as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“Can I take you home now?” he asked.

You huffed a laugh and slumped against his chest, laying your head sleepily on his shoulder. “I don’t think I can move yet,” you said, slurring your words with tiredness. And drunkenness.

Steve chuckled, but made no attempt to move you. You only felt him lifting his arms around you, though his hands didn’t settle on your body. 

“If you see Sam while you’re back in town, don’t tell him I did this,” Steve murmured in your ear. Then you felt the truck rumbling to life and getting back onto the road and you realized where your oldest friend’s hands were. He was driving you home, with you still sitting boneless in his lap.

When Steve arrived at your rental house, not too long after, he helped you down from his truck and looped an arm around your waist, getting you into the bungalow. Thankfully, you were sated from your release in his truck so you didn’t try to proposition him again, just dutifully did as he said, changing into your pajamas in your bedroom while he waited outside the closed door. 

Then he let you lean against his broad chest while you brushed your teeth and washed your face, before guiding you back to your room and tucking you into bed. Last, he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead that was so comforting, and made you feel so safe, your eyes fluttered closed and a soft smile curled your lips.

Before he could leave, your hand darted out and grabbed Steve’s wrist with surprising precision given your state and the fact that your eyes were closed. You dragged them open again, blinking away the bleariness until your childhood friend’s face came into focus. 

“I don’t regret anything we’ve done together, Stevie,” you mumbled, the side of your mouth hitching up in a lopsided smile. “I’m glad you were my first.” You lost the battle with your eyes and they fell closed. You also, apparently, lost the fight against biting back your feelings, murmuring sleepily, “I want you to be my last.”  

For a long moment, Steve was quiet. He seemed to wait until you were just on the edge of sleep before responding to your drunken confession. 

“Tell me that again when you’re not drunk, and I’ll believe you, buttercup,” Steve murmured, ducking down to press a kiss to your hand, still wrapped loosely around his wrist, before carefully extricating himself. 

You were snoring before Steve closed and locked the front door of your bungalow behind him. He walked down the short path to his truck, which sat at the curb, a subtle smile on his lips and a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

[storiesforallfandoms]

i need someone older ~ william afton;five nights at freddy's

word count: 3794

request?: no

description: after a bad breakup, she finds herself becoming more and more attracted to her much older boss

pairing: william afton x female!reader

warnings: swearing, age gap (reader is mid 20s, afton is 50s), power imbalance technically (but it's fine), bit of an au (so he doesn't unalive anyone in this one)

masterlist (one, two, three)

I stormed into work, really pushing it for time. I had slept past my alarm and was incredibly reluctant to get out of bed. After the night I had, the last thing I wanted was to work eight hours in a children's restaurant, with screaming kids and the animatronics playing the same three songs all day. But I needed the money, and hopefully a distraction.

"Whoa, who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?" my coworker, Adam, asked.

"Fuck off," I muttered. "I gotta go change into my uniform. Can you punch me in so I'm not late?"

"Yeah. Be quick, though. Afton's here."

I rolled my eyes. "He doesn't even know our names. He's not going to know I'm supposed to be on the clock."

I changed as quickly as I could while having limited space in a tiny bathroom stall. I stuffed my clothes into my backpack and did a quick double check in the mirror to make sure I was work appropriate. I wasn't paying enough attention as I stepped out of the bathroom and managed to literally run into someone who was walking past. I cursed under my breath as I looked up and came face to face with the fucking owner of Freddy Fazbear's.

As if this day couldn't get any worse.

"|'m so sorry, Mr. Afton," I said.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "Where's the fire, though? You seem like you're in a hurry."

How do I answer this without getting in shit? "I'm just, uh...trying not to be late. I had to change, and bring my bag to my locker."

William looked down at his watch. I felt my heart starting to pound.

"Cutting it a little close there," he commented.

"I know."

My grip on my bag had tightened as I braced for the worst. I had never met William before. Despite owning the restaurant, he was rarely ever around. Whenever he was, he was usually tucked away in his office for most of the day and only ever spoke with our manager. Due to this, I didn't know if he would be a hard ass who was about to write me up for running late. After the events of the previous night, I didn't think I'd be able to take getting reprimanded today.

He took me by surprise when he smiled and said, "Just don't let it happen again, okay?"

I nodded, unable to form any words, and scurried around him to the lockers.

Adam looked at me when I finally returned to the floor. "What took you so long?"

"I ran into Afton," I responded.

His eyes widened. "Did he give you shit?"

"Luckily no. Just told me not to let it happen again."

"I warned you that he was here."

I flipped Adam off when I was sure none of the kids could see me.

As if my day couldn't get any worse, my manager came to tell me that I was stationed on the prize counter for the day. The prize counter was probably the worst part of the restaurant. There was never any downtime at the counter. Either there was rowdy children hopped up on candy and pizza screaming about wanting toys they didn't have enough tickets for, or there were tired parents wanting to buy tokens for the arcade games while their rowdy kids were nearby screaming. Not to mention it was right next to the main stage, so the sound of screaming children was only matched by the sound of pre-recorded music coming from the animatronics' speakers. And to top it all off, the closing duties for the prize counter took longer than any other section of the restaurant.

It was the worst section to work, and I already wanted to leave just knowing that was my station for the day.

The only plus side was that being kept busy made the day fly by. But the usual craziness of Freddy Fazbear's was extra unbearable to a point where I felt myself on the edge of tears numerous times. I knew it was going to be a bad idea for me to be at work, and I was really regretting coming in.

I let out a sigh of relief as the last family finally left and the animatronics finally powered down. Adam laughed at me as I put my head down on the cool glass that held the prizes. "You're giving yourself more work to do."

I looked at the smudge I had left on the glass before glaring up at him. "I don't think my one smudge is making things any worse."

"Okay seriously, what is up with you? You've been grumpy all day."

I sighed and shook my head. "I had a bad night."

"Do you want me to help you close up so you can get out of here sooner?"

I gave him a look. "We both know you don't actually want that."

"But I'd do it to help you."

"I appreciate it, but I'll be fine. My annoyance and desire to leave will make me work faster."

Adam didn't fight me on it anymore. He said goodnight and clocked out. Once I heard the front door close and lock, I immediately got to work with cleaning. That was the easiest part as all I had to do was clean the glass of the prize case and pick up the discarded tickets from the floor. When I finished that, I started counting the cash in order to close it off. That was supposed to be another easy task, but my mind being anywhere but the task at hand made it so much harder.

Restocking the prizes was the hardest part. I had been on my own for nearly an hour, and I was both mentally and physically exhausted, so I was trying to rush out of there but found myself fumbling a little extra. I was trying to dump a box of tiny soldier toys into their respective bin when the box slipped from my hands and landed on its side, the toys scattering all over the floor.

It was my breaking point. Everything finally came crashing down around me and the flood gates finally opened. I lowered myself to the floor, sitting with my back against the counter. I buried my head into my hands and began to sob.

"Seems like a bit of a strong reaction to dropping some toys."

I jumped and looked towards where the voice had come from. I was sure I was the only one left in the restaurant, everyone else having left while I was doing my closing duties. Even my manager had left, giving me the keys and the code to the security system. But, turns out, I was wrong, because there was William Afton leaning over the counter to look down at me.

I quickly scrambled to my feet, wiping the tears from my face. "S-Sorry Mr. Afton. I-I didn't realize - "

"Hey, it's okay," he said, cutting me off and speaking in a soft voice. "What's going on? You seem stressed."

"It's...personal things. I shouldn't have let it interfere with my work."

"Fuck the professional shit for a second here. Forget I'm your boss, forget we're on the clock. If there's anything going on that you want to talk about, I'm all ears."

I leaned against the counter across from him. "It's stupid."

"You're crying, so I don't think it's that stupid."

I sighed. "My boyfriend broke up with me last night, after admitting he's been cheating on me for the last three months."

William whistled in response. "That's tough."

I nodded. "It just...came out of nowhere. We've been together for three years, moved in together last year. There was no signs that anything was wrong. I didn't even suspect that he was cheating. He came home last night and suddenly told me everything. Packed a bag and went to his...I guess...girlfriend's house. Told me he'd be back at some point this week to get his stuff."

Tears were stinging my eyes again. I looked away so William wouldn't see me cry anymore. Upon looking down, I realized my bare arms were on the glass of the prize counter, leaving smudges again. I cursed under my breath and turned to grab the cleaner again.

"Here, let me," William said, reaching for the cleaner. "You pick up the toy soldiers and I'll help restock the prizes once I finish this."

I was a little shocked, but definitely was not about to argue over getting help. We worked much quicker as a team and, finally, I was able to clock out to leave. I stood by as William set the security system and locked the gates.

"Thank you for helping me," I said.

"You don't have to thank me," he said. "It seemed you needed help, and I wasn't about to let one of my employees struggle while I was on the property." I smiled at him and started for my car. "For what it's worth - " I paused and turned back to him. " - your ex-boyfriend is a fucking idiot. You seem like a great woman. Don't beat yourself up over him."

He smiled and turned to walk towards his own car. I watched him go, surprised by what he said. Even through the cold night air, I could feel my face burning.

~~~~~~

William was around more after that. Not just in his office, but he was actually out on the floor. Everyone was noticing his increased presence, but I found myself noticing it in a different way. Whenever William was near, my eyes were practically glued to him. I found it difficult to concentrate whenever he was around. Luckily, everyone else was so distracted by his presence that they didn't notice how useless I had become.

It was wrong. I knew that. Having a crush on a coworker was bad enough, but a crush on your boss was a whole other level of bad. Especially when your boss is so much older. I had no idea whether or not he was even married or had kids for God's sake!

But every time I saw him, I couldn't stop my heart from racing. I wanted him in a way I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't stop myself.

During one of my shifts, I was put on the serving section. Serving was easy enough - take orders, bring food, check on tables. The hardest part was trying not to trip over a child running past while carrying a whole pizza on a hot tray. Most of us had learned the art of scanning the area before we walked, but sometimes you just don't notice quick enough and end up surprised by one of those little fuckers.

One of the cooks passed a pizza through the pass to me and told me the table number. I took the tray and balanced it against my shoulder, something I found was the easiest way to balance the bigger trays. The restaurant wasn't too busy, but there were still enough kids running around that I took in my surroundings before I started to walk. I was making a mental note about two kids who were stood by the stage, dancing to the song that Freddy was "singing", and didn't notice another kid who was racing from one of the playrooms in front of me. I stopped suddenly, just short of running into him, but found myself losing my balance after he ran past.

I felt two hands grab hold of my waist, holding me upright and saving me from a very embarrassing scene. When I turned to thank my savior, I came to face the blue eyes I had been trying to desperately to avoid today.

"That could've been a disaster," William said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Th-thank you," I managed to stutter out. I could still feel the heat of his hands against my waist, like they were burning through the clothes and searing my skin. I almost forgot the heavy tray of pizza I was carrying in that moment.

When he let me go, his eyes still trained on me, I quickly turned and hurried to my table. I tried not to seem so flustered, but I knew I had failed. I stuttered through every sentence before finally dismissing myself to the prize counter where one of my other coworkers, Beth, was snickering to herself.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"Don't ask," I responded.

"Oh, I'm asking. Are you all hot and bothered for Afton?!"

"Shh!" I snapped, looking over my shoulder to make sure no one had heard. Not like anyone would over the usual noise of the restaurant.

"Oh, you so are!" she said. "Holy shit, (Y/N), you know that's bad news right? He's literally our boss."

"I know he is. I'm not stupid. But...I can't help it!"

"At least he would be more of a gentleman than that small dick asshole you call your ex." She looked over her shoulder as the front door to the pizzeria opened. When she looked back, her eyes were wide. "Speak of the devil."

I looked over to see none other than the small dick asshole himself, Josh, walking in. I wished I could disappear into the floor and never be seen again. I tried to turn and walk away before he spotted me, but no luck.

"(Y/N)!"

I groaned and turned back to him. "What do you want, Josh?"

"I was just over getting the last of my stuff - "

"Awesome, I do not care. If you've come to give me your key back, you could've just left it on the dining room table."

"No, I came to say that I couldn't find my Springsteen album."

I furrowed my eyebrows and crossed my arms. "So you came all this way to...what? Ask me what I did with it? I have no idea, Josh, I threw everything that was yours into boxes and garbage bags. If it's not in there, you might've left it in your car or at your new girlfriend's house."

"It's not any of those places." I wasn't sure if I should've been hurt about the fact that he wasn't addressing my last comment directly, but I definitely was a little bit.

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"I wanted to see when you were going to be off work and maybe I could come by to look for it with you."

I scoffed. "Are you serious right now? Josh, I don't know what the fuck happened to your album, but you're sure as hell not coming over to the house. That is not your place anymore, and you're very much not welcome there."

"Why can't we be adults about this?"

"You lost the right to being adult about this the second you decided to cheat on me! And how dare you say that shit, but then come down to my place of work to try and, what, harass me into letting you back into my home? We're over, Josh. I don't ever want to see you again. If I find any of your shit left at the house, I'll drop it in the trash."

"What seems to be the problem here?"

I suppressed the urge to groan again. As if things couldn't get any more complicated.

"No problem, Mr. Afton," I said, turning to face William with the best, innocent smile I could muster. "Just an...unwelcome guest."

William looked at me for a moment before letting his eyes wander to Josh. I didn't have to say much else for him to recognize who the "unwelcome guest" was and I could see anger in his eyes.

"Well, time to get back to work, (Y/N)," he said to me. "Your customers are waiting."

I nodded and ducked away from the situation. As I walked away, Josh called after me, "That's fine, I'll be waiting for you to get off! We can talk more then!"

"Like hell you will."

A collective gasp from the parents and Beth cause me to spin around to see William had grabbed hold of the collar of Josh's shirt. William was easily a head taller than Josh, so even if the act wasn't meant to be intimidating, he definitely looked intimidating. I don't think I've ever seen such fear on Josh's face. William turned Josh around and basically dragged him towards the front door.

"If I see you back here, I will have your ass arrested," he said as he threw Josh out of the restaurant. "Are we clear, punk?"

He didn't wait for a response as he pulled the door shut. I could see Josh standing there, a mixture of fear and confusion on his face. William re-entered the main area, still looking angry, but tried to put on his best customer service smile as he addressed his new crowd. "Sorry everyone. Just an unruly customer. Sorry for any trouble."

To me he added, "Come see me in my office, please."

Beth and I exchanged a look before I followed William towards his office. I was so sure he was going to get upset with me. Not only had I brought my personal shit to the restaurant (even though that wasn't my fault), but it had also resulted in a not so great scene in front of the customers. People get to talking, and I was sure that this story was going to be spread through town before the night was out.

The moment I stepped into his office, I set in on the apologies. "Mr. Afton, I'm so sorry about that. I had no idea he was coming. I've been trying to avoid him while he's moving his stuff out and I guess he was getting tired of that or wanted to poke me one last time or something - "

"Did he hurt you?"

I paused my rambling to look up at him. All anger was gone from his face and had instead been replaced by concern.

"What?" I asked.

"Did he do anything to you just then?"

I shrugged. "Not physically. He was definitely still trying to mess with me mentally, though."

William nodded. "Well, he's not welcome on the property anymore. If you see him, you have my full permission to contact the police immediately."

"I...I don't think that's entirely necessary."

"I don't mean to sound like an old man or anything, but I've met plenty of assholes like your ex, (Y/N). You give them an inch and they take a mile. If you don't deal with this now, he will continue to come back and harass you. I don't want that for you. You don't deserve that."

I opened my mouth to say something else, but nothing came out. I was realizing how close we were now. We were mere inches away from one another. If I wanted to, I could just reach out and touch him right now; grab him. I could've kissed him right then and there if I really wanted to. Who would've known?

As if reading my mind, William suddenly reached out and cupped my face. Before I could comprehend what was happening, his lips were on mine. It was kind of ironic, the fact that I had just been thinking about doing this exact thing, but now that it was happening it was like my brain wasn't sure how to comprehend the situation.

William pulled away just as quickly as he had initiated the kiss. He backed away from me, suddenly worried. "I'm so sorry. I...I don't know what came over me. I shouldn't have done that."

In response, I pretty well threw myself at him. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him with such force that it pushed him back into his desk. He positioned himself so that he was sat on his desk and basically pulled me into his lap. It was risky, anyone could've come by and caught us, but something about that just made the experience so much better; so much hotter.

William pulled away first again. I tried to chase his lips with mine, but he pushed me back, chuckling at my eagerness.

"Hold on," he said. "There's some things we have to discuss before this goes any further."

"Please don't tell me you're married," I said.

He laughed. "No, I'm not married. Divorced with a 10 year old daughter. That was the first thing I wanted to discuss, in case single dad is a dealbreaker."

"Very much not a dealbreaker."

"So...the age thing is also not a dealbreaker then?"

I shook my head. "If anything, I think that makes it kinda hotter."

A grin spread on his face. "Okay, I'll keep that in mind. But there is the big issue of the fact that I'm your boss."

It felt like I had been shoved off of cloud nine and come crashing down to earth. For a moment, I had forgotten that part. He was right, that was the biggest issue here. Kind of hard to get around it unless I ended up quitting, which I really did not want to do. It was nearly impossible to find a good paying job these days, and I needed this now more than ever since Josh wasn't going to be splitting rent with me anymore.

I climbed off of William's lap and stood across from him. "I guess...that is a big issue, huh?"

"I just don't want you to feel pressured into anything, and I don't want anyone to look at you any different because you're dating the boss."

I raised a playful eyebrow at him. "You jumped to dating pretty quickly there."

His smile was a little more bashful. "What can I say? I'm old school. I don't believe in hooking up or anything like that. If there's anything going on here, I want you to be able to classify it as a relationship."

In that moment, I found myself wondering why I hadn't always dated older men. I had wasted so much of my time on guys my age when I could've been dating someone who was actually a gentleman and cared about me and my feelings.

"Why don't we see where things go with this, and then we can tackle that big elephant in the room?" I asked.

"I think I can agree to that."

I took a step closer and said, "I really want to kiss you again, though."

He laughed and met me halfway, standing from his desk and taking my face in his hands again. When he kissed me, I felt like I was flying right back on to cloud nine.

[evilminji]

You know one of the purposes of Lining?

Shock Absorption.

If the Zone is the Inter- and EXTRA-Dimensional Lining, connecting, containing, and generally powering all of Multiversal Creation? The Great Primordial Soup? The Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust, from which we came and too which we return?

If the Zone itself is basicly the place between Universe, where your soul goes to get washed down, cleaned up, recharged, and sent out to wherever the next random portal takes it? To BECOME whatever you happen to find? An infinte recycler and Multiversal management?

The great metaphorical Yggdrasil, grown far beyond few branches, into an incomprehensible forest of one?

Well!

That kinda changes things! And also nothing! Because it means that those who remain? Are basicly squatting in the DMV's attic. Have built bunkers, under the country's main power generator. They really SHOULD move along. Granted, there is no one to MAKE them... but like...

That's cause no one thought anyone would NEED too?

Lol. Don't they feel silly? Anyway, I'ma put MY house over-! *wander off to go squat in the rafters*

Yeah, the CONCEPTS are native. But those probably just generate naturally. It's all the Souls constantly flowing through. Lots of background Sentience and Memories and such being washed away into the air. But? Then these lil souls were like "yeah, but if THEY get to stay... me too! D:< " "no, you can-" "ME TOO" and then they stopped listening and did what they wanted.

Good thing we have literally infinte amounts of room.

T...there's so MANY, you guys.

But! Not the point here!

*smacks white board* Realities! The Die too sometimes! And get born! A beautiful process, really. You can find Reality Beads if you know When and Where to look, some times. They, OBVIOUSLY, don't last for very long. Since they are basicly just seed universe. The explosive growth takes them almost immediately out of our range of perception, as they Begin.

Foundations of all Life and such.

But good God are they MAGNIFICENT!

However, sometimes? The REVERSE happens. If you find the area of the Zone your in? Is getting... "wavey" is the best way people describe it. Distorted. Fun house mirror. As though your vision has weird wrinkles that are distorting and stretching your view of things? Get Out. FAST.

If it's only SLIGHT? Barely noticeable? You can grab your Lair. IF, and ONLY IF you are NEARBY! If not? Remember. Things can be replaced. YOU? Can not.

Cause that "wavey"-ness? Is the final stage of Realm Entropy. The universe that portion over the Zone is covering and connected too, is all hollowed out. And about to CAVE IN. You DO NOT want to be there when that happens!

Remember! You see "waves"? Fly for three days!

Get to the edge of the affected area then KEEP GOING for a full three days flight. Warn everyone in you path. We stay safe together, guy. Collapses are NO JOKE. People get... well. Let's just say it's NOT a nice way too go.

Knowing this of course? We should all be SAFE right? Respectful if Awed distance from Reality Seeds, run like he'll if "waves"? We Gucci?

.....Sooooorta.

*flips Whiteboard to other side, to reveal a cartoonishly drawn Supervillian labeled "Asshole"*

Behold! A Terrorist!

It's a charged word. Not used lightly. But THESE fuckers? Oh ho ho! THESE fuckers?! "Ooooh~! Look at MEEEEE! I'm gonna play with FORCES I DONT UNDERSTAAAAAAAND! Destabilize my whole funckin UNIVERSE! Kill countless TRILLIONS OF TRILLIONS! Cause life was bad to me personally and I'm mad about it! Wah wah wah!!" ASSHOLES!

These fuckers? Cause Collapses. Blow Outs. Weird Fucked Up Cancerous Real Growths. You ever seen the Cleaners? No? You don't WANT TOO. They are basically eldritch, deep sea, angler fish looking mother fuckers THE SIZE OF SOLAR SYSTEMS. They travel in SCHOOLS.

BIG ONES.

When Realities collapse, they "fall off" as it were. Detach. And have to get recycled. All the countless impurities of Life eaten way to a blank slate. So it too, can start again. Thus the Fish. But! They ALSO eat anything "problematic".

Like tumors. Cancers. Poisoned, Multiversal Threats. Those quote on quote "God Killers".

Yes. Yes this IS part of why you DONT want to be near a Collapsing Reality.

No I WON'T explain how I know.

I DONT WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.

*smack the board with pointer* pay attention.

Jason Todd. Not! An Asshole. Sexy thighs. Fancy lil hair strip. We all miss him. But! He's off living his "no really, I'm totally alive, guys" hot girl summer or whatever. We are going to respect that! But!!! How did that happen? When he was DEFINITELY Hella dead?

Superboy Prime-y Pants. Who IS an ASSHOLE.

Because THAT fucker? PUNCHED HIS REALITY SO HARD IT NEARLY SHATTERED. Oh, no, I'm sorry! He punched SOMEONE ELSE'S reality! Because he is a tantruming MAN CHILD! And NOW? Now, Your Majesty, that WHOLE ASS Reality is more hair line cracks then border walls! One good shove? It'll cave in. Killing every soul inside.

The Cleaners are ALREADY circling.

It needs to be patched. Immediately. But that's not something normal ghosts can DO. The Zone won't LISTEN to us. Nor allocate the energy for it. The Concepts of Healing? We can't even FIND them.

We need help.

Please help them, King Phantom. You're the only one who CAN.

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @ailithnight @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[jayke0]

Nicotine Lust

Pairing: Jake Lockley x afab reader

Summary: Your attempts to keep your smoking kink under wraps become futile once you're reassured that your boyfriends’ lungs aren't at stake.

A/N: I couldn't stop thinking about @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction 's smoking Steven, so i wanted to do smth from Jake's perspective ❤️.

Also if you know which tiktok lady Jake’s talking about then bonus points to you!

Rating: nsfw, smut

Warnings/Content: smoking, g/n nicknames, I've never smoked so forgive me if literally all of it is wrong, blowjob, face fucking, ‘fucktoy’ nickname, ‘slut’ nickname, Dom!Jake, Sub!Reader, p in v, unmentioned protection, riding, doggy style, creampie, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 4,020 (yeah… I'm pretty sure this is my longest fic yet.😅)

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily. And Fen ofc ofc.

…………………………………......................………….

You hate to admit it, but when Jake smokes, it's like an automatic switch is clicked in your brain; like you're literally being turned on.

It's wrong, so so wrong. You don't want to be getting turned on by something that is ultimately ruining your boyfriend's lungs, all three of your boyfriends’ lungs.

It's only when you mention it to him one day that he settles your worries.

“The suit heals ‘em.”

“What?? For real?”

“ ‘Course! That's the whole point of it.”

You raise a brow. “It's not for you to heal your black lung.”

“Well no, but it's for healin’, ain't it?” He pulls out his packet of tobacco and places it on the windowsill, along with his papers. His fingers work meticulously as he lays out the paper and lines up the tobacco, sprinkling it onto the paper like he's decorating fucking cupcakes with chocolate sprinkles.

“I thought ya liked it anyway.”

You have to drag your eyes away from the man's hands as he rolls the cylinder between his fingers. “What? No... that's weird.”

Your boyfriend cocks an eyebrow at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Really? So that look that ya give me, or the way ya watch my hands ain't got nothin’ to do with ya gettin’ all hot and bothered?” He brings it to his lips, running his tongue along the edge of the paper in a way that makes your cheeks heat up and your arms fold over your chest defensively.

Jake is easily the best at reading you and your body, especially when it comes to your not-so-subtle arousal.

Your eyes move back to his hand, watching him push the filter into the end with his middle finger before rolling the other end shut.

“No, I just find it interesting. It's good for me to know how to roll a cig… I guess.” Your words trail off as you realize how dumb that sounds; there's no way in hell that Jake lockley is going to believe that lie.

“For who? Ya side piece?” He jokes, the smirk turning into a full-grown grin while he brings the now formed cigarette to his lips. It's only when he flips open his lighter and the flame lights up the end that you come to the conclusion there's no point in hiding it… not now that you know they're safe.

“Alright!... I like it, is that what you wanted?”

“Show me.” His lips are pressed together tightly to keep the cigarette in place, but he's learnt how to talk out of the gap in his lips.

“Excuse me?”

“Show me how much ya like it.” The man's voice is deeper now as he pulls the cigarette from his lips and exhales a cloud of smoke, considerately not blowing it in your direction; and fuck if it doesn't make you squirm.

You want to sink to your knees right there, rip his black jeans from his thick thighs and suck him dry, but your stubbornness stops you. “I'm not some kinda fuck toy, Jake!”

“Ya weren't sayin’ that last night, were ya?” The cigarette meets his lips again and his chest expands as he takes in a long drag, not being as considerate with where he blows it this time.

You irritatedly waft the smoke away from your face, but his gaze, oh lord the way his eyes glare at you, a dark stare that pushes you to your knees anyway as if he has the fucking force. Resting your hands on his knees, you part them slowly, keeping your eyes transfixed on his as you slide your hands up his bulky thighs and over his crotch, all while he takes another drag.

“Good fucktoy.” He says with a playful tone as he pets your head condescendingly, the name and gesture ultimately turning you on more while you toy with his belt buckle to pry his jeans open. “Eager, ain't we? I love it when you're this eager, mi vida.”

The smell of the smoke is starting to sting your nostrils, but all worries of second-hand smoke fade when you pull his boxers down his thighs and reveal his half hard cock. “I'm not the only eager one," you raise a brow at him, taking his hardening length in your hand to hear a soft groan from him.

“Oh c'mon, what guy doesn't love gettin’ his dick sucked? Especially from a slut as pretty as you, cariño.” His thumb runs over your cheek, and then your bottom lip. “Now, open up for me, okay?”

His hand replaces yours as you obediently open your mouth and lean forward, wanting to feel him grow hard in the heat of your mouth. His length is heavy on your tongue, the familiar tang of his skin and pre-cum making you hum softly to send vibrations through his cock, resulting in a pleasured grunt from the man.

“Mmm that's good… good angel…”

The calmness in his voice and the way his shoulders drop indicate that even his trusty old cigarettes can't relax him like you can. You always know exactly what makes him tick, what buttons to press to get him coming down your throat in minutes, but despite that, he continues to take drags from his damn deathstick.

Your eyes are fixated on his lips as he brings it to his mouth again, holding it loosely between his two fingers before inhaling the nicotine. He meets your gaze, a shallow thrust from his impatient hips making you pull back with an annoyed squeal; you're not willing to admit how turned on you also get when they're impatient with you, though you're like 90% sure that Jake has caught on anyway, as usual. A string of drool falls from your lips and lands on his head, spreading down the thick, tanned length before your lips follow.

“Thaaat’s it, just like that, darlin’.” He groans, feeling your lips stretch and the warmth of your mouth envelop him. His fingers caress your hair before his large hand eventually comes to rest on the back of your head; an exciting threat that he could push you down on his girth at any point.

Of course, though, he doesn't. He's more patient and collected than the other two, even when you manage to relax your throat and sink all the way down on him.

“Oooh cariño, that's new. Ya been practicin’?” Jake's back arches off of the window, his cigarette back between his lips so his hand can join the other on the back of your head. You pull off with a pant, nodding proudly, “Steven loved letting me practice on him, did you know he's into throat training?”

Your words warrant a growl from your boyfriend as he tightens his grip on your scalp. “C’mooon, stop teasin’ me,” his lip is cocked up in a scowl as he take another drag from his cig and blows it out.

You don't spend any more time fucking around, your own thighs pressing together just from the situation and sight in front of you. You lower your head on him, but don't take him fully, wrapping your hand around what you can't fit in your mouth so you can start bobbing your head. Your tongue glides over his slit each time you almost pull off, with just your lips wrapped around the blunt tip before you dive back down.

“Fuuuck, that's so good. Shit you're so good at that, mi vida.” His praises go straight to your core, making you speed up your actions.

The man tilts his head back and takes the cig out of his mouth, the end now getting dangerously close to his fingers, but he couldn't care less, all he cares about is the wet heat of your mouth already pushing him closer and closer to his orgasm. He takes one last drag and puts out the butt as it reaches his fingers, taking in a sharp inhale when you deepthroat him again just as it burns his finger tips. “Such a good fucktoy, goddamn angel…”

His groans get louder, your head now bobbing up and down on him rhythmically as you twist your fist around his throbbing length in just the right way.

Hand joining the other, he pushes you down once, then twice. “Just a little more darlin’, ya can do it, I know ya can—,” his pants are heavy, low moans cut off by gasps. “Gonna come down that pretty throat, just a little further, sweetheart.” You feel his hips lift off the window sill and towards your face, the gesture making you choke a bit before you take him fully again, fingernails digging into his plump thighs enough to leave marks as your face scrunches up.

It's only a few more seconds and he's coming down your throat, just as he said he would. You can barely taste the saltiness as he moans loudly, adam's apple bobbing in his throat with his back arched enough to feel his tummy on your forehead. You pull off after a few moments with gasps, your chest rising and falling quickly as you take in the air you'd briefly missed out on.

“Ay cariño… ‘m sorry, are ya ok?” Jake's gaze is still lidded and dopey, though a lot softer now, and you feel his thumb run over your cheek.

“Yes,” you say hoarsely, giggling afterwards at the sound of your voice while you wipe the spit from your chin. “It was hot. I liked it, honey, don't worry.”

He sighs, a smile replacing the worried frown his had on his face just seconds before. “Ah, good, angel,” he leans down and kisses you, not caring about the taste of himself on your lips. “You owe me an orgasm though.” You mumble on his lips, feeling the low chuckle rumble in his chest as he joins you on the floor without even pulling away from your plump lips.

”I can do that, cariño.”

+.｡ﾟ:;｡+ﾟ+｡::ﾟ｡:.ﾟ｡+｡+.｡ﾟ:;｡+ﾟ+｡::ﾟ｡:.ﾟ｡

Jake hasn't been out since that morning, and now it's getting to 3 days, and you're worried.

Did your odd little kink freak him out? Maybe the thought that his lover gets off on him damaging his lungs made him uncomfortable.— No, that's not the sexy part, because that WOULD be weird. It's watching him carefully, masterfully, assemble the tobacco. Watching the way he rolls it between his thick digits and runs his tongue over the edge before lighting it. You'd noticed how his eyes close in satisfaction with that first drag, and how his eyelids lower to a more relaxed manner, giving him that deadly lidded gaze that is sure to be the death of you.

The presence creeping up behind you breaks your train of thought, and you sigh contentedly as you feel large, warm hands run over your shoulders tenderly. You drag your eyes away from the tv screen to tilt your head back and look at one of your boyfriends, whichever one it is.

Jake always insisted on growing his facial hair out, but Marc and Steven are so strongly against it that you'd think they have some kind of personal vendetta against it. That being said, it's hard to tell them apart sometimes, especially when you're looking at them upside down.

“Hello, handsome.”

“Hello, angel.”

Blood instantly rushes to your face, and you know Jake notices it, given the way his lips quirk into a grin.

“Took you long enough…” You mumble softly, lifting your head to avoid his burning gaze.

“Ay, I know I know. I ain't really got an excuse.” He gives your shoulder one last pat before moving around to the couch and placing himself down next to you, arm promptly resting on the couch behind your head. “Did ya miss me, though?” His fingers toy with your ear, a gesture that he'd quickly and delightedly learnt annoys you.

Your silence is met by a dark chuckle from the man. “Did ya miss these?” The sound of cardboard rustling grabs your attention, your head slowly turning towards him before your eyes focus on the box of cigarettes in front of you.

“I thought you didn't like ‘pre-rolled bullshit'.” You quote his words with a scoff to hide the excitement already bubbling up inside you.

“I don't, but they come in handy, don't they? ‘Specially if I'm tryna rile ya up again.”

His left leg is crossed over the other in a casual sitting position, body angled towards you invitingly with his arms spread wide enough to make his t-shirt stretch across his toned chest.

“So… you didn't find it weird then?” Voice tentative, you shuffle over to him, having missed his tight bear hugs and calming tone of voice… even if his cockiness does get on your nerves sometimes.

A small frown replaces the grin that almost constantly adorned his face. “No, mi vida, ‘course not.” His hand reaches towards your face, calloused thumb running under your eyes softly. “I'm just as into it as you are, hell, I thought that was obvious.” His low chuckle makes your chest warm and a smile break the pouty look you had plastered across your face, especially when he leans in to kiss your forehead.

“Thank fucking god.”

A deep laugh from your boyfriend only makes your face and body grow warmer, the smile widening before you lean into his lips to place a kiss on them.

“Ya could've spoken to the other two.” He says, hands resting on your waist to pull you closer for a cuddle.

“Didn't wanna worry them.” It's almost remarkable how quickly you melt into their arms, quicker than you have with any other person… ever, really.

Jake's fingers trace your face gently, eyes roaming all over your features and drinking them in as if he hasn't seen you in years. “Ay cariño, you're too kind for ya own good.” He chuckles softly, pressing another, slightly longer kiss on your lips.

That slightly longer turns into much longer, which then turns into you panting into eachothers's mouth, craving one another as if it's integral to your survival.

“Please do it again, honey, wanna see you do it again.”

The friction from your bodies grinding relentlessly together has him dazed, his brain taking a few seconds to compute.

“Oh, angel, so impatient,” he teases as he grabs the box of cigs from the table and pulls one out. He runs it under his nose and takes a big whiff, letting out a loud, pleasured groan afterwards to make you giggle at his silliness, which you do.

You bite your lip, and he puts the stick between his rosy lips, looking up at you hungrily. “This what ya wanted, darlin’? ‘S this what you've been waitin’ for?” His tone is almost condescending, but his words roll off of his tongue in such a smooth way that you're quick to forgive him.

Your hips automatically grind down on him as you nod, biting your lip hard, before you feel his hands land on your waist again, traveling underneath your shirt and over your warm skin until you feel his fingers just brush over your left nipple. The hem of your shirt moves past your face before you can even think about it, your eyes still glued to his pretty mouth as you roll your hips on him to pull those soft grunts from his throat.

“Look at ya, I've barely touched ya and you're all worked up.” He grins as he brings his hand down to the waistband of your sweats to slide them lovingly down your thighs. It's a little mortifying how you don't even question him, how you don't even need anymore working up thanks to a heated make-out session and the sight of the cig hanging from his lips loosely. You lift your ass to help him pull them down, your underwear following suit.

That's when you realize he hasn't even taken his grey t-shirt off, and you're stark naked in his lap.

“This has got to have a name...” You rest your hands on his chest, the feeling of your bare cunt grinding against his jeans making you tilt your head back.

“Hmm?” He asks, undoing his belt buckle and fly.

“Your thing for having me completely naked while you can't even be bothered to take your shirt off.”

He laughs at that. “Maybe, ya should look it up later. See if it's on that woman's TikTok page.” He pulls his twitching cock out of the confines of his boxers, running his thumb over the ruddy tip. The gesture makes you take in a soft inhale, inching your hips closer to him so you can let his cock slide between your folds and through your arousal.

You both groan at the movement, and you watch Jake shuffle in his pocket for his lighter moments later, bringing the small flame to the end of the cig to light it. His chest expands, and then deflates as he blows the smoke away.

“You're so gorgeous, mi vida.” He says softly, two fingers holding the cigarette tightly as he runs them across your flesh to make goosebumps prickle across your arms and your cheeks heat up.

“And you're so handsome, Jakey.” You moan softly as he brings his mouth close to your chest and places kisses all over the expanse of skin, guiding your hand down between your bodies to help him slide inside you.

He pulls away and places the stick between his lips again to take in another drag and admire the picture in front of him. “Such a pretty angel,” he reiterates, feeling your warmth envelop his aching length as you sink down on him.

Your thighs shudder just a little, a pant escaping your lips as your hole stretches around him with ease, used to their girth by now.

“Love the dumb little look on ya face when ya take it, cariño. Ya like havin’ me stretch ya open like this?” Jake's words travel straight to your core, fueling the fire in your tummy as you lift your hips just to sink back down on him.

“Yes, baby, I love the way you stretch me open.”

The moan that comes from his lips is wonderful, and it's followed by another billow of smoke, the cig back in the corner of his mouth so he can guide your hips. You can see him already gritting his teeth around it, taking in sharp inhales as you start a deep rhythm on him.

“Oh baby…” You moan. You desperately want to close your eyes to enjoy the feeling, but the sight of him fucking you with that deathstick between his teeth is too glorious, penance for the time you spent worrying. “Shit, you look so hot, Jake. So fucking sexy…” You groan as he grasps your ass, gripping the flesh and dragging you down on his cock with growls.

“Ya look even better takin’ it, darlin’, ya take it so well; my pretty slut.”

You grip his shoulders, cursing him for being able to push your buttons and make you whine at the most humiliating of names. Your body always tells him different, though, especially as you start bouncing faster on his cock, feeling it hit that fucking sweet spot each time you come down on him.

Jake is panting too now, and he has to hold the cig between his fingers again to stop it from dropping on you. “Ya feel so good squeezin’ me like that, cariño… Fuck this cunt is magical–.” He still has a grip on your hip, and uses it as leverage so that he can start bucking his hips into your wet heat.

Needless to say, you aren't going to last much longer.

“J-ake! Honey… Fuck I'm so close–agh!-.” Your walls clench around him while your hand slips between your legs to circle your clit, eyes opening briefly to get a glimpse at the sight you'd been waiting to see for what felt like weeks.

That's it, that's all you needed as you sink down on him and grind your cunt against your hand, panting and moaning with your head thrown back. Waves of pleasure rush over you and soak through your bones entirely, your toes clenching like your walls.

You release the grip you had on his shoulders, not that he seemed to mind, that is, before leaning forward to kiss him. You don't care about the smokey taste on his tongue because all you want is him, his taste.

“Mmnnn… We ain't done yet, darlin’,” Jake pulls from the kiss and gestures to the half burnt cigarette as he places it back between his lips.

He gropes your waist and pulls you off of his cock with a soft yelp from you, instead pressing you down into the couch, face turned outwards so he can lean down and look at your face. This position always makes you whine, always makes your legs shake as you try to keep yourself up, and Jake never goes easy on you. He likes seeing the way your ass and thighs bounce as he brings you back on him, and loves hearing the filthy noises that are produced in the process.

The feeling of him splitting you open again has you biting on the cushion, your thoughts from before being true as he ruthlessly fucks into you, loud growls and grunts rumbling in his chest and ringing in your ears.

It's hard to ignore how good it makes you feel when he uses you like this. Sure you love the soft and tender moments you get with the three of them, but once you'd felt what they can really do to you, there was no going back.

You're surprised you haven't ripped the cushion cover from how hard you're gripping it, dumb, cock drunk whines and whimpers falling from your lips as the man fucks you closer and closer to another orgasm.

He leans over you, cigarette barely staying between his lips as he watches your eyes screw shut and random gibberish fall from your mouth.

“Ay, my pretty little fucktoy. Ya love it when I'm rough with ya, don't ya?” He pants and strokes his hand down your chest, running all the way down your tummy till he reaches your swollen clit. “Love it when I… when I use ya.”

His strong and composed facade is faltering, just as it usually does when he's getting close, sitting up again to throw his head back and take puffs of his almost completely gone cigarette.

You can see colours dancing behind your eyelids with how tightly they're screwed shut, the way his fingers are rubbing your clit being almost unbearable as you let out cries and pleas to come again.

“Yeah cariño, that's it, cum all over my cock, lemme feel ya twitch.”

An even stronger wave than before crashes over you and wracks your whole body. Your moans get stuck in your throat as you milk Jake of all he has, his own orgasm having hit him after you'd shrieked his name.

Thankfully, he's quick to remove his fingers from your throbbing clit, knowing it gets a little too sensitive after two mind-blowing orgasms.

”AH FUCK-”

Your post-nut bliss is interrupted by a pained yelp from the man, making you crane your neck to look back at him frantically pulling the cigarette butt from his lips and putting it out in the ashtray.

You laugh, albeit sleepily, and watch his dopey gaze drift to yours as he chuckles lowly. “Fuckin’ cigarettes… maybe next time I should get some of those fake ones.” He jokes as he pulls out of you and touches his sore lips.

You giggle and sit up wobbly, turning to wrap your arms around his neck. “I did think when we started that it was a little dangerous.”

“Ay, ya live and ya learn.”

You both laugh and Jake presses his face into your neck, placing soft kisses as he falls back against the couch with a thump, taking you with him.

...........................................................................

Tags 🖤: @boredzillenial @cowboymarcs @chichimisaki @faretheeoscar @fanofstuffidk @minigirl87 @marisferasiop @red-hydra @summonthesoups @steven-grants-world @queerponcho @ominoose @mynamesstevenwithav @rinverse

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part twenty

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 6.1k (YIKES)

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: guyssss guys guys guys omg :,) also s2 only has two parts left!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

The air is brisk as it surrounds you in the night, chilling you down to the bone, but with a book in your lap and a blanket draped over your shoulders, you don't mind the cold. Not one bit.

You're reading the same page over and over again- Romeo and Juliet. Act two, scene two. Your monologue. You flip the page, and that's all there is.

'Tis but thy name that is my enemy.'

You whisper this, smiling softly to yourself. The grass tickles the undersides of your arms and when you look up, you see the stars. Thousands and thousands of them- more than you could count if you were given a pen and paper and a month to try. It's beautiful.

You lay back into the wild grass, letting it consume you. You can smell it as the long blades brush across your cheeks.

"Y/N?" You freeze at the sound of your name, not that you are really moving. You just hold tight onto the air in your lungs, as if exhaling it could light a beacon to you. Your heartbeat was thrumming in your chest- you were afraid.

"Y/N?" The voice comes again. Coriolanus. He shouldn't be here, he doesn't know where you go at night when you need to end your unfortunate days. Why is he here?

You don't move, eyes wide open as you stare at the sky. Maybe he'll go away, maybe he'll ignore the lantern still burning close enough that you could read under its flame. As if.

"Y/N, you have to go." Now you can hear the grass rustling with every slow step he takes, and he's trying to be quiet. Whispering, as if there was anyone here for miles.

"Go, hide. It's not safe for you out here."

You sit up quickly, scrambling onto your feet. He's close enough now that he's certainly seen you. You get no chance to say anything before you realize you weren't in the field you thought you were. Grass covers the ground of the Capitol arena, and alongside the long green leaves, Coryo's scarf is draping down your side, brushing your legs.

"Coryo?" You say, but you're not looking at him. The compact weighs heavily in the pocket of your dress as you spin around, taking in the dark space. Your lantern flickers out.

"Y/N." He says again, and your eyes snap back to him. His hair is short, buzzed almost down to his scalp like the last time you saw him. "Hide. Now."

"But, I-"

It was too late, and quickened footsteps alerted you to someone else coming.

"Come on, come on!" Coryo grabs you by the wrist quickly, pulling you with him toward the exit glowing red in the night as you abandon your book and blanket.

His hand shifts to hold yours, attempting to force you ahead of himself. You want to look back, but he won't let you. The exit feels miles away. You can't take leave- you don't know why you're running with him. You'll be killed. You'll be killed either way.

You fall through the turnstiles, the mocking automatic voice from the speakers going ignored as you hit the ground. You don't know what you fell onto, you look and there's nothing there, but blood begins to pour from three linear wounds in your leg and a gash on your upper arm.

"Are you okay? Hey, are you okay?" Coryo is in your face now, kneeling in front of you and trying to get you up.

You can't speak, looking past him at the faceless shadow following you. Pushing yourself back against the wall, they glide through the gate and Coryo turns quickly, hands raised. "Wait! Don't! He shouts, but has to duck as they swing something at them.

"Y/N- Run!" He yells at you, but you can't move. You curl up against the wall, burying your face in your knees.

You hear the sharp swing of metal in the air. Once, twice, and you're waiting for an impact that doesn't come until you hear Coryo cry out in pain instead.

You feel the grind of cement next to you as something is lifted from the ground.

"I don't want to hurt you!"

Another swing.

And then a cracking noise, and the turnstile again.

"Enjoy the show!"

You look up then, watching just as the shadow hits the ground across the gate.

"Coryo?" You push yourself up using the wall. He doesn't look back at you, but you can see his shoulders rise and fall with his breaths as he stares at the shadow now sprawled out across the ground.

He swings the club again, the cement block disappearing into the grass with a hard thud.

You don't run.

"Coryo, let's go. Please... let's just go." Your voice comes out small, but he still hears you.

He turns, and you aren't afraid. "Y/N-" He drops the weapon and you take an involuntary step back. You look into his eyes, cleared of the blonde curls he recently buzzed off.

Sky blue. Angry. No- baby blue. Worried.

He's afraid.

"Y/N, wait." He pleads with you, hands clear as he takes a step closer. This time, you let him. "Please don't walk away again."

"What did you say?" You ask, brow furrowed at the familiar statement as you take another step back.

"Please, don't run from me."

When you wake, you feel different. You feel your blood pumping quick through your veins as you stare at the ceiling, the sun peaking in through the curtains like usual, but you feel more sick than scared.

It's a welcome change.

Crawling out of bed, you pull a dress on over your pyjama shorts, deciding that would likely be fine since you didn't plan on leaving the house today. Maybe to go out to the meadow, but with sleep still blurring your vision you weren't ready to make any big decisions like that yet.

You felt guilty about ruining the lake day for everyone. It wasn't a bad panic attack, they did have to jump into action the way they did and try to rush you home, but they had. You can't be upset at them, Lennox and Lucy Gray only wanted to protect you.

You wish Maude Ivory hadn't seen you cry.

The hike back is all you can think about while you make your morning tea.

You watched as Sejanus grabbed Coryo by the arm, pulling him back up and into the cabin and shutting the door behind them.

No one bothered to get you dressed again, the priority just being to get you home. Lucy Gray had helped you get your shoes back on, and Lennox practically lifted you to your feet. You were still shaking, but the tears had lessened and you could breathe again.

"Tam Amber, will you go ask the boys if they remember the way back?" Lucy Gray whispered to her cousin and he nodded, running off the dock.

"You're safe. It's just us here." She reminded you as you watched him hurry away.

"But... But Coryo-" You stammered, suddenly shivering.

"I know, I know, Hun." She wrapped the blanket back around your shoulders. "He's gone. You're okay."

"No, no I-"

You heard Tam Ambers footfalls returning, just as hastily as he had gone. "They remember." He nodded to your friend.

"Okay, will you tell them to wait twenty minutes before following us?" She told him and he nodded again, disappearing once more.

"Lucy Gray, it's, it's okay. I don't think they need to wait." You tried to explain, and she had to lean in to listen to you.

"I know, it's okay." Clearly, she didn't know what you were trying to say. "I promise you they can handle themselves, you don't worry about it." But you weren't worried about them. You wanted them to come.

"E-Every one can master a grief but he that has it." You huff through shaky breaths, frustration at their lack of understanding building in your tone. Why couldn't they see that he was helping you?

Lennox and Lucy Gray look at each other on either side of you, but say nothing.

You looked back at the cabin over your shoulder as your brother and best friend guided you away, the rest of the Covey in tow.

You hadn't seen either of the Capitol boys since.

Coryo walks into Sejanus's room, expecting him to still be sleeping. It's early, the sun just peaking over the mountains, but he's not there. He was out late the night before, so maybe he hadn't come home. He did mention something about possibly staying with Lucy Gray after her show.

They would only be in town for another couple of weeks, he was getting down to the wire of time he had to earn your trust back. He was fucking it up royally, and he wasn't even sure he could go home without any conclusions. He just needed to talk to you, if it was him who was hurting you, and you said the best thing he could do was leave and never look back, he would do it in a heartbeat. He'd never recover, but he'd be willing to do anything to know you were happy. Or at least getting there.

But you hadn't said that. Remembering your conversation at the lake, he didn't feel like all hope was lost. Even if Lucy Gray and Lennox wouldn't let him anywhere near you. He couldn't give up yet.

This is why, in all honesty, he is lucky that Sejanus didn't make it home last night.

He saw his friend writing in a notebook the other day, so he opened the bedside drawer to try and find it. He'll just leave a note saying he's going for a walk, and Sejanus likely won't suspect he's going to go try and talk to you and come stop him. If he even wakes up from his hangover with enough time to find the note and then catch him.

When Coryo opens the drawer, that's not what he finds. Well, it is, and he pulls the pad of paper and pencil out, but his eyes catch on something else. Cash. And lots of it.

He looks over his shoulder at the door before picking it up and picking through it. It must have been in the tens of thousands. Why would Sejanus bring so much money to District Twelve of all places? He wishes he could understand rich kids.

He sits on the bed and opens the notebook, pausing again when he sees some scribbled notes.

'Hob, 10 pm, 08/17

Broken fence, storage shed. 4 am, 08/18

Lennox ?'

Brow furrowed in confusion, Coryo turns the page. Nothing else. No other context clues as to what on earth this could mean. It was meeting places and times. He looks around again as if he could find answers in the walls of the small bedroom.

Nothing.

He quickly shoves the notepad back into the drawer and leaves. Maybe he didn't need to leave a note after all.

Coryo had to move quickly. Collecting yet another peace offering, some kind of treat, and then make it to your house before Sejanus or Lucy Gray can intercept. He does it, but there was still the biggest obstacle yet- your brother. He prays as he knocks that Lennox doesn't open the door.

When there's a knock on the door, you leap from your bench on the back porch, quietly slipping back in the door. You were home alone, only for a few hours while your mom handled some business in town and Lennox went to hang out with some friends. Your mother didn't want to let you, she wanted you to come, but you insisted. You were an adult, you could be home alone for a few hours.

Who on earth would knock on the door right in that window of time?

Sneaking into your parents' bedroom, you peek out of the curtains to try and look at the front door.

No. This is ridiculous.

You force yourself to straighten up, smoothing the front of your dress and taking a deep breath. You're home. You're safe. No one at the door is here to hurt you.

You pace up to the front door just as another quick three knocks ring out. Deep breath. You twist and pull the handle.

"Y/N." Coryo grins, relief washing over him like a wave that only lasts a moment. "Here, these are for you." He holds out a small bouquet of flowers before you get the chance to slam the door in his face.

You can't help the smile that pulls at your lips when you look down at the hand he extends to you.

Butterflies. The very same ones you felt the first time he gifted you a flower.

"Coryo, you don't have to bring me flowers every time you see me." You giggle, and he smiles. The relief is back.

"Well, I'd like to. You deserve nothing less."

You look up through your lashes at him, slightly shaking your head. Your smile doesn't slip as you examine his features, checking his eyes. As blue and clear as the lake you swam in last week. "Would you like to come in?" You offer, unsure of yourself up until the point the words leave your mouth.

"I would love to." Coryo smiles so wide you feel as though your own heart could burst. You're doubting yourself for ever being afraid of him, but as he passes you into the threshold of your home, you remember why. Deep breath.

"You came at a good time." You joke, closing the door behind him and stepping into the kitchen as it's laid out next to the front door.

"Oh?"

"Well, Lennox isn't here to push you down the front steps." You giggle. Maybe you shouldn't be telling him you're home alone. Your heart stops for a beat.

And then he laughs, and everything is okay again as you pull a vase down from atop the fridge, placing it in the sink to rinse off. "That is true." He agrees.

"But, I'll warn you, Tybs is here somewhere. He's always watching." You look at him over your shoulder as you place the flowers down and run the tap into the ceramic vase.

"Noted." Coryo chuckles, looking around his feet to see if the cat had come to say hello.

He watches you as you turn back around to focus on your task. Watching you wash dishes was a privilege he never even considered that he wanted, but now that he had it, he was more certain than ever that he could never let you go.

It was so good to see you have some peace.

"I brought some things for a picnic, I was hoping you could take me to the meadow you told me about. I'd really like to see it." He asks as you dry off the outside of the vase, proceeding to fill it with water.

"I was going to head out there myself, actually. That sounds perfect." He watches your hair move as you nod, popping the flowers into the vase and turning to show him. The smile on your face makes his heart melt. He didn't know that feeling was real.

"How do they look?" You ask, quickly adjusting some.

"Lovely." Coryo grins and your lips pull together, looking back down at the bouquet in your hands.

"Thank you, by the way. I realize I didn't say thank you." You say, carrying the vase out to the living room and he follows while you place it on the coffee table.

"You don't have to." He shakes his head. "To be honest, I didn't even expect you to accept them."

"Oh, would you like them back?" You ask, worried.

That's not what he meant, you were just too sweet. "No, I picked them for you."

"Would you tell me if you did want them back?" You ask, wiping your hands off from stray water on the front of your dress.

"Probably not." He admits with a smile that matches yours, shaking his head. "I suppose you'll just have to trust me."

"Here we are!" You grin, flipping out the quilt you brought from your room for the two of you to sit on.

Coryo looks around. It's a big open field, with trees and hills in the distance. He did imagine it would be beautiful at night like you said, but he never thought that during the day it would be as much of a sight. After years and years of coming to this exact spot, the grass is shorter here. Already conditioned to not grow where this family could come and sit during the days and nights of your childhood- you had built the perfect little spot to lay down a sheet.

You're already sitting down cross-legged on the hand-sewn material when he looks at you again. "Thoughts?" You ask, tipping your head up at him. "You look like you're thinkin'."

"Yeah, yeah. It's beautiful. This isn't what I pictured."

"No?" You ask as he sits down next to you, adjusting on the blanket and placing his bag on the corner.

"No. Nothing like this." He answers. "It's much bigger."

You giggle, looking around. "So you understand what I was missing, then."

"Yeah." He breathes the word out with a slight nod, but he's still staring at you even as he pulls everything out of his bag. Some cookies, and the book.

"So," You start with a smile, and he looks up at you. You look down at the book, your train of thought completely leaving you when you see it. "You brought it..." You mumble, reaching out to touch the cover.

He lifts it to hand it to you, but you quickly pull your hand away as if the book could bite. You look between him and the leather-bound book in his hand, cheeks flushing. "I-I don't, I'm sorry. I don't know why..." You laugh awkwardly, looking instead out to the woods that surround you.

Your trauma had consistently manifested in the strangest of ways. That book had done nothing to hurt you, you knew that, but it did remind you of the nights and days you spent reading it before the games when Coryo was locked away in the hospital. The memory almost makes you sick.

"Don't be." Coryo shakes his head at you. "I get it." He puts it down on the other side of himself, just out of your view. "I just... I know you usually read out here. So I wanted to bring a book too. It's the only one I have here."

You smile nervously and nod. "I'm glad you like it." You look over your shoulder when you hear a soft 'meow' from within the grass. "Someone followed us."

You let out a soft gasp, smiling as your cat emerges from the tall blades next to you. They were only about knee height to you, but they completely swallowed his small form. "Tybs!" You grin, opening your arms to him and he crawls straight into your lap. "Good King of Cats, there you are." You scoop him up, kissing him on his fluffy head.

"Y/N," Coryo says, drawing your attention again. You hum, face still pressed into Tybalt's fur as you hug him. "I... I was hoping we could talk about some things, if you feel safe enough. I know with just me it's scary but there's some things I really need to tell you before I have to leave and no one will let me talk to you, so now feels like my only chance."

"Okay." You nod, lowering Tybs down onto your lap again, holding him close. "But... I just, I don't want you to have to deal with me if I... I don't know, panic. I can't promise you I won't, and it's embarrassing."

"That's okay." He assures you, scanning your face closely even as you avoid his eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you, so if you can't talk about it it's totally okay. I can try my best to say what I need to say without scaring you."

"No, no I... There's stuff I have to say to you too." You confess to him. "I just, it is so frustrating to not be able to talk about anything without feeling like... I can't communicate what I need to say. Or like I'm dying."

Coryo nods, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I'll be as patient as you need me to be." He promises. "I can't imagine what that's like for you." He adds, almost whispering. You have always expressed yourself so eloquently through words, and in a way, the games, he has taken that from you.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and nod, focussing on petting your cat. You can feel the vibrations of his purring against your body, and that helps already.

"It's hard." You admit quietly. "I still sometimes feel like no one wants to listen to me when I can talk about what happened. It's always the same thing." You shake your head, letting out a slight laugh. "Do you know how many times I've heard 'You're safe now'? Or 'you're home now. It's okay'? Because it's a lot. And I know that. I know they're just trying to help, but... It's more complicated than that."

"There's no guidebook on living with this stuff." Coryo agrees. "That's what your father told me."

"He's right." You mumble. "No one knows what to do, Twelve has never had a Victor before. I'm lucky number one, and it feels like nobody sees me as human anymore. Not even Lucy Gray. Not even my family."

"I do."

You smile sadly at him. "Coryo, I..." You sigh, shaking your head and grounding yourself in feeling Tybalt rub his head against your palm, begging to be pet. "Is this real?"

He furrows his brow slightly with confusion.

"I mean, I don't-" You sigh. "I feel like I am being so daft but Sejanus says he thought you actually cared about me but that was back in the Capitol so I just need you to be honest with me."

"Y/N..." He shakes his head at you, fully in disbelief. "I have never lied to you. I don't think I could even if I wanted to."

"No, not- not like that." You sigh, shaking your head. "I mean, the way you acted. The things you did- I feel like I don't know who you really are."

"You know me. Better than anyone." He assures you, voice soft with sincerity. He doesn't want to be offended, but he'd still like to understand.

"You said... you said you wanted to start over." You say after a moment, looking into his eyes and loosening your grip on your cat as he adjusts the way he's laying over your bare legs. "So... can we?"

Coryo smiles, giving you a quick nod. "My name is Coriolanus Snow." He starts, and he can see how closely you're watching him, a small smile growing on your lips. That's not exactly what you meant, and he knew it. "But you can call me Coryo. That's what my friends call me."

How could he miss the apples of your cheeks turning slightly pink under the sun?

"I was born and raised in the Capitol, and I'm an orphan. My mother died in childbirth, and my sister didn't make it. My father died here, in Twelve. I live with my cousin, Tigris, and our Grandma'am, and my whole life I have been starving." He admits, swallowing as he monitors your reaction closely. Sadness. Empathy. "One time, during the war, I even ate a jar of paste just to stop the pain in my stomach." He smiles as he says it, it's meant to be funny- to try and keep you with him as he speaks.

He raises an eyebrow at you as you can't help but giggle. "I'm sorry, that must have been awful."

"It was certainly... pasty." He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "But then, the moment I first laid eyes on you and was told you would be my tribute, I knew that everything was going to change."

You think back to the reaping, and how he must have watched. One of many memories that haunted you now doesn't seem all that scary, knowing he was with you even then.

"I was angry, I knew Highbottom was trying to sabotage me- to give me no chance at winning the prize but I didn't know that the universe was just bringing me to you."

"Coriolanus." You grin, tilting your head at him. "It's a pleasure to meet you again."

"Did you know that I was named after a play?" He asks, a teasing smile pulling at his lips knowing that the only reason he knew that was because of you.

"Oh? What's it about?" You humour him, and he chuckles shaking his head at you.

"Well, it's a long story, really, but it's about a man in ancient Rome who gets put in a position of power, and makes some pretty big mistakes." He quotes as much of what he can remember you telling him. "Then the people of the city hated him, and he was cast out because he betrayed people who trusted him."

You don't say anything, hanging on every word of his interpretation.

"And sometimes I feel like it's a fitting name." He continues, voice lowering with seriousness now. "But I don't think I am like him, because I regretted my mistakes the moment I made them. And I think that if he was more like me, and had someone who made him want to be a good man, his story wouldn't have ended too tragically."

You feel the telltale burn of tears brimming your eyes, and Coryo watches you closely. Your breathing is steady, the ghost of a smile still on your lips.

"Are you okay?" He asks quietly, reaching up to push your hair from where a piece is beginning to fall into your eyes. He's careful not to move too quickly, or even to touch your skin.

You nod, briefly drawing your lip in between your teeth while you think. "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

Coryo smiles, almost in disbelief. "You forgive me, then?"

"I'm a Victor." You state, although your whisper sucks almost all the confidence out of your voice as you focus on Tybalt purring against your lap. "If I expect forgiveness in return I need to give it, don't I?"

"You don't need forgiveness from anyone." He insists, smile fading. "You didn't do a single thing wrong."

"I think I did." You admit, lip beginning to wobble as you try and remember, looking down at your cat and stroking his back almost obsessively. "I should have gone back for Wovey, I should have stayed with Jessup, and... and I think I killed those boys, Coryo. I haven't told a soul and it's been killing me."

When you look back up at the boy next to you, his heart breaks. You hadn't done anything wrong; you even tried your best to be a pacifist when thrown into the Hunger Games, of all things, and still, you found things to blame yourself for. "Do you remember what I told you?" He asks, very slowly and carefully reaching out to swipe away a tear from your cheek. "That we all do things we aren't proud of to survive. That doesn't make you a wicked person."

"Is it true?" You ask, resisting your gut and it wanting you to lean into his touch. "That... that I killed them?"

"No." He answers. "I did. I gave you the compact."

"But I used it."

"You had no choice." He reminds you. "That was my fault, and I'll take the blame for it but I won't lie and tell you that I regret it."

You take a sharp breath in. His eyes. Look at his eyes.

"I did it to save you, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I couldn't live with myself if I let you die. You saved my life first, and you could have ran but you didn't." He wouldn't let you beat yourself up about something that was his fault. "You could have saved yourself, but you gave up that chance for me. I couldn't let you die. It would be such a waste for the world to lose a girl like you."

"Coryo... That's not right." You say, shaking your head. The way your face fell made him nervous. "You can't tell me you did it for me. That is not as noble as you feel like it is."

He felt stupid for telling you that, despite its truth. You wouldn't like it, he knew that. "I know, but I don't want to keep anything from you. I have to tell you why I did the things I did, I have to get you to trust me again. I'd speak every thought I'll ever have if that's what it takes."

You take a shaky breath. "What about when you killed Bobbin?" It took you a moment to even get the words to leave your mouth- and he waited all the while. Powder blue. Patient.

"I... okay." Coryo nods to himself. "I was scared, I didn't want to do it. Sejanus was injured, I remember realizing he couldn't walk. I tried to talk to the boy, but he wouldn't listen..." He trails off, not daring to break eye contact with you. "I felt... desperate. I was panicking, and then... powerful. That's the only way I can describe it. That I wasn't helpless anymore, the way I always had been."

His words are terrifying to you, but you can't look away as you tuck Tybalt closer to your chest. He's stopped purring, but he's breathing against you, craning into your touch. It's actively keeping you grounded through your fear.

"Then I looked at you," Coryo continues. "And I thought that I should have let him kill me instead, because maybe that would have hurt you less."

You swallow the anxiety sitting heavy and thick in the back of your throat. If it was you, you would have thought 'Yes. I should die before taking the life of another,' but since it was Coryo, your gut reaction was telling you to say no; to reassure him that he was only protecting himself and it was scary but he had done the right thing. The realization that he outweighed your own morals and the fact that as much as you wanted to say that, you weren't sure you would stick to it yourself now was a sick combination of things to grapple with all at once.

"Stop, please." You say quietly, feeling your heartbeat picking up just behind your ears. You don't even notice when you had looked away, but your eyes are shut tight.

"Okay, okay. I'll stop." Coryo quickly promises. "But I need you to look at me, okay? Can you do that?"

When you don't immediately respond, he takes the calculated risk of rubbing your back. It didn't scare you last time, it almost seemed to help for the brief moment you were able to look at him.

"I'm sorry." You say quickly, voice cracking.

"Don't be." He says softly, feeling how quickly you're breathing with the hand he has so delicately placed on your back.

It almost makes him cry, too, not knowing what to do to help. It was his fault, again, and this time there was no Lucy Gray or Lennox to come running. He looks around anyway as you cling to the cat in your lap. Tybalt. Quickly, he looks down to the book at his side.

"Oh sweet Juliet," He says, no better ideas surfacing on how to help you. He would make a fool out of himself if he must, but he had to try. "Thy beauty has made me effeminate, and in my temper softened... valor's steel." He tries to remember, and prays that he remembered it correctly.

Under his hand he feels you shake, and he tries to catch your eyes again. It takes him a moment to realize that you weren't crying harder- he hadn't made it all worse again. You were laughing.

He grins, chuckling slightly. "There she is, hey, hey... Look at me."

You turn your head, your smile already mostly gone by the time your eyes reach his.

"I don't remember it, can you refresh me?" He asks, trying to give you an adequate distraction.

"That... that scene? Uh-" Your mind is short-circuiting, running a million miles a minute to try and remember more details. What came before, what came after?

"Anything. Any part you want."

"Okay. Okay..." You nod, trying as best you can to take a deep breath. "Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-browed night. Give me my Romeo, and, when I shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night..."

Just like at your interview, Coryo watches your anxiety begin to melt away as you recite every line. Something about it was so calming to you. It forced you to focus on something other than the tightness in your chest and the tremor of your hands.

"Atta girl..." Coryo nods, proud as he keeps rubbing your back. "Are you feeling a little better? Do you want some water?"

"I- I can get it." You nod quickly, reaching for the bag and digging for your water bottle, careful to not disturb the cat on your lap.

"I'm sorry." He says, withdrawing his hand so you can drink in peace. "I hate that the games have done this to you..."

You seal up the bottle again, wiping your lips on your wrist and shaking your head. "No one can come out of that unchanged, but... let's talk about something else, please."

"I just... I hope you know how much I truly care for you. That's real. That will always be real." Coryo promises, allowing you to put the bottle down before taking your hand.

His hands are slightly cold against the one of yours he is holding, and you attribute that to your no doubt increased blood pressure. There's nothing but pure, undiluted honesty in his eyes.

"I read your note." He continues, wanting to explain but you look away quickly, letting out a slight laugh. He's never seen your face so red.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said the things I did. It was foolish and I was feeling so confident knowing that that day very well may have been my last and-"

"It wasn't foolish." Coryo smiles slightly, moving so he can look in your eyes again. "It was sweet, and all this time I have been dying to tell you that I love you. I do." The confession has his heart pounding as if he were the one who is still coming down from a panic attack.

For the first time maybe in your whole life, you were speechless. It didn't feel like all the love stories you had read in books that made your heart flip the way it just had- it was more. It was your story, and no quote felt quite fitting to describe your own feelings. They were all yours.

"Is that... is that okay? I don't want to scare you but-" Coryo doesn't even get the chance to finish before your lips are against his.

You are kissing him. You're real, you're alive, and he is finally getting that second kiss that he never thought he would have. You were still his.

Your cat had long abandoned his post on your lap by the time Coryo processed this and moved his hands up to grasp your cheeks. He's as gentle as he possibly can be, he knows he's being somewhat irrational to imagine you just vanishing from his hold like you had consistently done in his dreams. This wasn't that; your lips against his, your unbelievably soft skin under his hands.

"I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest." You mumble against his lips, having finally found something close enough to express it.

This was real, you were there, and Coriolanus would never let you walk away again.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[nxtaliaistyping]

Need Baron Zemo to fuck me with the mask on :(

Authors note: omg i'm not really into the mcu anymore, but nothing can stop me thinking about this man I need him so badddddd (and daniel bruhl in general tbh)

18+ nsfw, villain kink, mask kink, fingering, rough sex, brief mention of killing

Thinking about being his girl, his pretty thing that sits in his lap while he drinks the most expensive wine in his expensive penthouse (just because he's on the run, doesn't mean he can't be in style)

You know who he is, the things he's done, but you just don't care. Not when he caresses you so gently, cooing soft words in your ear of how beautiful and enchanting he finds you, how much you fill the empty void left within him after Sokovia fell and everyone he loved was wiped out.

And if anything, he's too gentle. Not wanting to frighten you, the poor little lamb that you were, cuddling up to such a dangerous man every night. So he attempts to shield things from you, what he's done and what he's capable of.

But that changes one day, you feel the compulsive need to find out more about your lover, or at least see what he's like when he's the ruthless and strategic criminal that you've been told about. This leads you to following him, not an easy task, but you see how readily he is able to get his hands dirty. Tracking down some old HYDRA agent that has information that is useful to him, and you watch in slight horror and slight awe how he interrogates the man.

Although you have to look away at certain parts, hearing presumably the agent's body hitting the cold ground with a soft thud. While you try and leave quietly, you underestimated how much planning had went into his operation, because on your attempted escape you feel a large hand grab your upper arm, yanking you towards him with force and the start of a threat before he stops.

"dragă? what are you doing here?" he asks, his tone still slightly deeper than usual as you stare into his brown eyes; the only facial features visible while he wears the dark purple mask.

As you stumble over your words, telling him that you wanted to see the real him, he can't help but notice the slight flush of your skin, the way your chest rises and your lips part. In that moment he finally understands.

"Oh...I think I understand now. My little girl likes that i'm so dangerous, hm?" he asks, and you can hear the smirk behind his teasing lilt, his head cocked to one side as you nod, embarassed.

Soon enough, he has you pinned to the wall, hand stuffed between your thighs as he fingers your tight cunt from under your skirt. You whimper and whine at his treatment, and he revels in the fact you're so depraved, so naughty, and all for him.

"Do you like this, hm sreco? I was going to take this mask off, but I have a feeling that isn't what you desire." he rasps against your ear, and you nod breathlessly at how right his assumption was. All you can do is look up at him, clenching and making a mess around his fingers as you whine.

When he pulls his fingers away, he doesn't give you time to recover before you find yourself bent over a wooden crate and his cock is forcing its way in your pussy. He's never treated you as roughly as this before, but something about his girl loving how ruthless he is, wanting him to keep his goddamn mask on, flipped a switch in him as he starts a rough pace. The echoes of his hips slamming into your ass make you flush with embarrassment, gripping the edges of the surface for dear life, pretty nails he paid for digging into the wood.

"So filthy for me, my little girl is nothing but a slut." he groans out, squeezing your ass before giving it a harsh spank. The rhythm of his cock railing you has your eyes nearly crossing, as you try not to think about the fact you're fucking an older man after he's literally just killed someone.

When he cums, he buries himself to the hilt inside of you, feeling the way you tighten around him and squeeze every last drop out. As his breathing returns to normal, so too does his headspace as he rips the mask off quickly, pulling out to shush you gently and hold you in his arms.

"There we are dragă i'm here, i'm right here. I'm sorry for being so rough."

Taking you home, he'd spoil his good girl with a bath and food, but in the back of his mind he's already planning out how he can fuck you like that again.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

[squerlly]

flames of desire chapter 8: how sweet...

Alastor x (f! bunny reader) -FLUFF-

Alastors POV:

Ever since that day, the day I came to terms with the fact that I am indeed infatuated with y/n its driving me crazy. why couldn't she just push me away, why didn't she deny my feelings, I feel weak...

your POV:

well last night was quite the shit show. I almost got raped, angel might pay for it later, and Alastor just confessed he loves me. what do I even do with myself, god my head hurts what was in those drinks. with a groan I get up heading to the bathroom to freshen up, it was a Saturday and I was feeling lazy so tank top and shorts it is. after changing I take a moment to look at myself, for a demon I look so....pathetic?, I really gotta learn how to defend myself, maybe ill ask vaggie later.

walking to the lobby I see Alastor on the arm chair with a book, husk at the bar, and angel flipping through channels on the TV. Alastor spots me and I stiffen, my face heating up remembering what happened last night, "good morning my dear" "oh uhh good morning, what are you guys doing?" I plop on the couch beside angel "ehh its my day off and my fucken head hurts" I roll my eyes "what happened to gotta start off strong" angel shoots me a scowl "I'm not one for weak alcohol like you~" "sounds like a you problem" "oh you little-" "ehem" looking at alastor he shoots angel a warning look, I try to hold in a laugh maybe having creepy deer man at my side isn't to bad "anyways I was going to go out for a walk to visit a dear friend of mine and would like for you to attend if you would like" "well I wasn't planning on doing anything today so why not" "wonderful dear tell me when your ready to go and we shall be off" as alastor leaves I avert my gaze back to angel as he throws me a suspicious look "what?" "what are ya giving smiles under the table or somethin, he never invites people out" with a flustered face I yell "angel!!!!" "what!? just sayin no need to get your panties in a bunch~" "whatever..." angel cackles as I walk away heading back to my room to get dressed. once again tearing up my closet I settle on a white sweetheart neckline puffy sleeved dress, brushing my hair and ears I hear a knock on the door, opening its alastor "hello my dear are you ready to go?" "yes!" "wonderful" heading to the hotel doors I turn back to angel who smirks doing a jerking off motion, I just flip him off I we both leave.

walking the streets of hell once again I notice that demon stray away from us, leaving the sidewalk free of any sinners blocking the path, damn just how scared were these people of Alastor, noticing him staring down at me "whats the matter?" "nothing cher you just look nice today" oh that's a new nick name "thank you but, were are we going?" "well none other then one of my favorite places in all of hell!" with a curious look I see a sign that says cannibal town written on it "cannibal town? Al am I going to get eaten" I joke seeing the people all around before watching a man get mangled and eaten, wait a damn minute- "I assure you cher nobody will eat you with me here" lovely.... "o-ok" I say trying to ignore the fact somebody literally got eaten alive in front of me, aside from that the town looked nice, don't get me wrong the people are terrifying but this is the most well managed place if seen thus far, its mostly just chaos down here. "there's somebody I would like you to meet, I'm sure she will love you~" walking into a place called Rosie's Emporium, it had nice dresses and is that- body parts!!?, suddenly a tall pale woman wearing a long dress and a large hat with feathers comes pushing past the crowed "alastor? alastor!!!, were have you been iv missed you" "hello Rosie, good to see you doing well" as she grabs him and hugs him she looks to me as I awkwardly wave "Alastor whos this lovely lady, introduce me will ya" "ah yes y/n dear this is Rosie one of the most darling and dangerous overlords this side of the pentagram!" "oh no need for such flattery~" "Rosie this is y/n a resident at charlies hotel" "oh hello, its nice to meet you" "my my she's a cutie!" "Rosie you don't mind if she picks though some of your lovely dresses" "oh of course, any friend of alastors is a friend of mine" "wait what-" "cher why don't you look through these lovely dresses at her shop I'm sure you will find something you like" "I- are you sure?" "yes, me and Rosie will talk for a bit, pick anything you like~" "oh uhm alright!"

Alastors POV:

sitting on one of Rosie's tables she hands me a cup of bitter coffee as we talk "well alastor its not everyday you bring a lady to my place~, who is she?" "we need to hang out less dear" she lets out a little laugh, "she's a shy one, quite a lucky girl aswell, it takes a lot to gain the likes of you" glancing at y/n looking through the dresses "she's quite interesting, and I don't know why..." "well your all googly eyed for her so I presume you love her" unconsciously some static cracks through my voice as I speak "love is a strong word don't you think?" "sounds like your in denial~" "I'm not in denial!, this is just a new form of interest" "I think this is good for you, she seems like bright girl. you guys haven't done anything yet hmm?" I give her a glare before averting my gaze elsewhere sipping my coffee "ohh~?" "nothing serious so don't get your hopes up" nothing serious yet, the truth was that kiss tasted sweet, it stir something in me, and I don't like sweet things. so why do I want more...I need more, I need another taste.

your POV:

looking at the clothing racks of dresses they were all old fashioned, not that it was a bad thing but not my style, I still looked around anyways setting my sights on a nice red and white dress, it had a high neckline with the top half being white and the bottom a deep red color. the sleeves were puffy, taking it off the rack I hang it over my arm "uhh Rosie you don't mind if I try anything on right?" turning her attention from there conversation "of course dear try on anything ya like, the dressing rooms are in the back!" I give her a smile as I hurry on back, looking at the dress I see there was buttons along the sides wear you slip it on, stepping into it I button them on, walking out I look at myself in the mirror, giving it a spin it looked pretty but the waist is a bit tight...seeing alastor in the mirrors reflection I turn "alastor you scared me for a second" "sorry cher I didn't intend to scare you, found something you like?" "I don't know I feel silly..." "nonsense you look wonderful" grabbing my hand he spins me earning a giggle "red is truly your color" "say the one who wears nothing but red" "well then I suppose we match don't we~" "can I have this one?" "of course, why don't you change and ill get it for you" "thank you Al" "anything for you my dear" running off to change I come back out with the dress in hand as we walk back to the front with Rosie "well take this one Rosie" "oh what a lovely choice you made, I'm sure this looked beautiful on you" "how much will that be?" "don't worry about it its on the house!" giving a wide smile she waves it off "thank you so much!" "yes thank you again Rosie" "anything for a friend, after all you've never done me wrong before~" packaging the dress in a nice bag she hands it to me with a card, "if you ever need some dresses don't hesitate to pay me a visit" she said with a wink and I nod with a wide smile.

Alastors POV:

it does my dead heart good to see her smile, to know I caused that smile, oh she had no idea what she's done to me. "y/n dear why don't we walk back to the hotel, wouldn't want to make Charlie worried" "oh yes!" I wave off Rosie finding her much needed advice quite useful "did you enjoy yourself cher?" "most defiantly!, I can see why you like this place" "yes it takes me back to my time were things were much simpler" "I wish I could live in this time, it was...nice" "glad you think so".

back at the hotel we walk in as it was already starting to get late, I walk her back to her room "consider this a date, I would love to take you out more cher" seeing a shade of red on her cheeks makes me feel giddy, taken out of my thought she suddenly gives me a hug, surprised I return her affectionate gesture hearing a small mumble from her "thank you alastor, it means a lot" "anything for you darling, now sleep well, don't let the nightmares' haunt you, that's my job~"

eat eat eat this up please because I pray you love this chapter as much as I didddd!!!! Rosie is my everything!!!! and are we gonna talk about last weekend were I woke up to 99+ NOTIFICATIONS!!!! I love you guys so much I could cry have a wonderful day/night lots of hugs

-squerlly

@pooplyface1423 @strippezzz

for more content or chapters please click this masterlist

[almightygremlinblob]

Your Two Lovely Goblins

Sukuna x Reader x Yorozu Just gonna put this here. Next up - more Yuuji and some Uraume! That is, if I don't probables disappear again LMAO ⚠️Content Warnings⚠️ Mostly fluff, there's some suggestiveness but nothing explicit actually happens. Coffee Shop AU, Modern AU (no curses), Gender-Neutral Reader, Slight OOC Sukuna, Soft Sukuna, Yorozu is completely blind about her feelings, both accidental and intentional drinking of blood and other bodily fluids, naked cuddling with Yorozu, LOOTS of jealousy from both Sukuna and Yorozu. Both of them fighting over Reader's attention and they're also literally batshit insane. As per common sense; Minors DNI. This is fiction, don't tolerate this kinda behaviour irl. Yady yady yada.

Another day, another headache with these two.

"They agreed to go with me!" Sukuna slams his fist onto the table, and you grab your drink before it can topple over. The bags on the table, though...

"I am the only one that's allowed near you, Sukuna." The, quite frankly, beautiful woman wraps her arm harshly around you. Yorozu pulls you close to her curvy body and holds you tightly, making you frown as you nearly spill your drink. "So I'll take them home!"

It was supposed to be simple enough, and yet somehow the both of them made it more complicated than it needed to be. Both Sukuna and Yorozu wanted to walk home with you, and you agreed. Sukuna wanted you alone with him. Yorozu didn't want you near Sukuna; arguing that it was because she didn't want you near her 'husband' and seeing you as some sort of 'rival'.

The excuse was bullshit and everyone could see past it. Everyone except Yorozu, it seemed. For all the time she'd want to keep you away from her 'husband' she'd be the one taking you out, getting you your favorite drink or food, even cooking for you from time to time…though her cooking did always taste a little strange, taking you to see a movie you mentioned you were interested in or shopping with you for a piece of clothing or just…something you'd like. Always on her, of course. And whenever you both would have some time alone together she'd practically be stringing her limbs around your form, cuddling close and staying like that for hours on end like some kind of slug glued to your side.

All to keep you away from her husband, apparently.

The woman's ruse was fragile like a thin piece of glass. Or, more accurately, like tissue paper.

You let out a frustrated sigh. Over the counter, you can see them laughing at you. The handsome blonde barista with his friends, one with short pink hair and lovely gold eyes, the other with short brown hair that matched his brown eyes, and the last with longer grey hair and heterochromia. You would have flipped them off had you not been sandwiched between both Yorozu and Sukuna at the moment, both your arms taken by the woman and man that tried their best to pry the other off of you.

"Why would they stay in your place? It's full of bugs!" Aaand there he goes yelling again. "Dead and live ones!"

"No way am I going to let someone like them go home with you!"

Ah. Of course they misunderstood you completely.

"They agreed to go with me! That's final!" Yorozu manages to pry Sukuna away from you. Practically dragging you, arm not so discreetly snaked around your waist, out of the coffee shop.

"Are you deaf!? It was me they agreed to go with!" Sukuna tails you both, not far behind. He holds your hand, and Yorozy frowns. Despite his irritation and anger, Sukuna's grip on you is gentle as can be.

"Let's ditch the slut." Sukuna kisses the back of your hand. "I prepared a surprise for you back in my place."

"Guys…" They stop, and both their attention was fully on you, now. "I was actually supposed to go back to my home?"

"O-oh…" You wince as Sukuna's shoulders visibly slump in disappointment.

"Well, too bad! You're coming to mine." Yorozu continues to yank you towards her apartment, and you let out a frustrated sigh. Sukuna seems to perk up, though, when you don't let go of his hand.

~~~~~~

It doesn't take long at all until all three of you are at her apartment, greeted by her collection of bugs - both living and dead. Yorozu promptly dumps all her stuff on a nearby chair, before going to the bathroom, begrudgingly leaving both you and Sukuna alone. You sigh as he pulls you close and starts trailing kisses along your neck.

Wasn't it too early for this?

"I made you something." He puts down the bag he was holding and gets out a small box with a cupcake in it. "There was more of it back in my apartment but…I suppose this one will have to do."

"Aww, this is actually…so sweet!" You smile at the cupcake in your hands, a simple chocolate base with pink frosting in the shape of a heart. Knowing Sukuna's cooking, you eagerly unbox it and start eating. As usual, simple as it may be, it was absolutely delicious - though there was something strange about it. The cake seemed to be a little saltier than normal, and the frosting had a slight metallic aftertaste - though neither were noticeable at all, unless you really focused on it. It was just your boyfriend being as crazy as your girlfriend. You sigh, and he smiles. "Your cooking is always so delicious, Sukuna! Thank you…"

Yorozu gets out of the bathroom, drying her hair and completely naked; plump mounds and lush forest out in all her glory. Despite this being a normal occurrence, you can't help but blush and look away, every time. "Hmph! The moment I leave you alone with them, of course…"

"Would you like a bite, Yor?" You completely miss the look of utter panic that graces Sukuna's features when you offer her the gift meant solely for you. "No! That's only for them!"

"Whatever! Keep it."

"Suit yourself." With a shrug, you down the rest of the cupcake and Sukuna visibly relaxes but then frowns as Yorozu slips herself in between you and him, snaking an arm around yours and letting you feel her up indirectly. All to 'protect Sukuna from you', of course.

"Ugh." Sukuna grimaces and looks away, holding back the bile forming in his throat. "Can't you cover up? I DO NOT want to see your tits, woman."

"Well, get used to it!" She huffs and pulls you closer to her. You decide to turn on the TV for some background noise as the three of you fall into a comfortable silence. All before Yorozu decides to ruin it.

"You guys want anything to eat?" She absent-mindedly pushes back some of the hair in front of your face. "I could go for some frogs legs, or liver right about now…"

"If they're eating anything, it's going to be made by ME." Sukuna all but growls.

"Chicken feet…" You can feel her practically drooling as she ignores Sukuna, making him angrier.

"Come on, Sukuna. Let her have her fun." Upon hearing it, Sukuna frowns but a gentle kiss placed on his knuckles calms him down. And when Yorozu huffs in a mild tantrum upon seeing that, your lips on her forehead placates her. "On me this time. It's always you guys getting stuff for me, so…"

~~~~~

The night passed and Yorozu, unsurprisingly, wouldn't let you leave. So you ended up staying at her place for the night, but neither of them wanted you alone with the other. On nights like these it was always rather stuffy; squished in between both Sukuna and Yorozu and their sizeable assets as the bed struggled to accommodate all three of you. Yorozu stuck to you like she was glued to part of your body, while Sukuna held onto you like a vice. Yet still, you somehow end up dozing off.

"You know…" Sukuna shifts, and Yorozu frowns. "I don't think I've seen you blink for the past thirty minutes."

"Of course. I can't take my eyes off them, or they'll seduce you while I'm not looking. Or, no…could it be that…" She says, putting a hand on her chest in mock, still not blinking or letting her eyes leave your sleeping form. "Aww, is my dear husband worried for me?"

"No." He says, tone as flat and uncaring as he's ever sounded. Sukuna gently gets you into a more comfortable position, on top of him and conveniently away from Yorozu. "But you are being creepy with my lover. Quit it."

"Creepy!? You're one to talk. Don't think I'm clueless about that cupcake you made for them. Made with all your love, I bet." She snarls at him but her expression turns near manic. "Well, you're late to the party. I bet you don't even know what their blood tastes like!"

"You bitch!" Sukuna clenches his fist. "How dare-I was supposed to be the first to do that!"

"Ha! Of course I'd take the blood of my enemy long before you could. You should have expected that I'd also let them take my own blood-" She clears her throat. "Ahem, amongotherthings, before you could! What rival would let their hus-"

"Guys, come ooon…" You whine and shift; bringing Yorozu close and manneuvering Sukuna so he's also holding you. Now all three of you practically glued to each other. This seems to catch them off guard, as they're now perfectly still and quiet. "I can drink your whatevers tomorrow. Let's just go to sleep already…"

And thus, their little spat ends for today. You'll deal with their next one tomorrow.

For More Context: - Reader is dating both Sukuna and Yorozu. However, homegirl is so blind she can't see she's downbad for Reader. - Before Reader came along, it was originally Yorozu dating Sukuna and the both of them not exactly happy with the other, but when Reader came into the picture (as a friend) the both of them fell in love with them. Despite their jealousy, they're a lot happier now with Reader, tho. - Sukuna and Yorozu are a lot and I do mean A LOT, but Reader truly does love them regardless. - Yes, the baristas were Mahito, Yuuji, Nanami and Haibara and they were all besties. Mahito still bullies Yuuji from time to time but Nanami's there to do damage control lol.

[spncrscasey]

One Chance (k.s.)

Fandom/Characters: Chicago Fire - Kelly Severide x Fem!Reader, Leslie Shay

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Kelly Severide. The man who hasn’t stopped asking you out since you joined 51. But now, you have a date and his time is up.

Warnings: flirting, fluff, tiniest bit of angst? (idk if this would even be considered angst,) happy ending

a/n: i don’t rlly like this but it’s smth quick and short cuz i was bored. i literally saw this gif and the idea came to me, idk what it was about the gif but it resulted in this so here you go ! enjoy reading <3

“Hey gorgeous,” You heard him say as you walked in, winking at you.

“Morning, Severide.” You reply, rolling your eyes.

“When are you going to let me take you out?” He asked like clockwork.

This had been going on since the week you'd joined the firehouse. Each day, he’d ask if you wanted to go on a date with him. And every time, your response would be the same,

“Never.”

Yet he still hadn't given up, “Never say never, m’lady.” His answer earned a chuckle from you, causing a grin to form on his face.

Truth be told, you really liked him. He was not only an excellent leader but also a great friend. And let's face it, he wasn't bad looking either. Who were you kidding? You could get lost in those mesmerizing blue eyes for hours. He was beautiful.

But you also knew him. You knew his reputation. A ladies’ man, a womanizer, a playboy— you could go on and on. You were aware of the multiple women he'd take home weekly and you didn’t want to be one of them. You weren't the kind of girl who regularly has one-night stands. There's nothing wrong with them, it just wasn't who you were.

The point is, you didn't want to just be someone he was one and done with. Which is why you were continuously rejecting his advances. You couldn't lie though, it was fun watching him flirt with you in hopes of one day, getting your attention.

As you entered the kitchen in search of coffee, you noticed that he had quietly followed you inside.

“So. Any plans for this weekend?” He questioned, as you poured yourself a cup.

“Actually, yes. You want one?” You asked, pointing the mug at him.

“No thanks, but do tell.” He inquires.

“I have a date.”

“With who?” He instantly questions.

“Not that it's any of your business, but this guy I met at a coffee shop down the street a few days ago,” You reply, smiling.

He rolls his eyes in annoyance but tries once more, “How about you ditch him and go on a date with me instead, beautiful?”

“Once again Severide, not happening.” You shut him down for the umpteenth time, walking away.

Shay was currently at your apartment helping you get ready for the date you had tonight.

“I'm just saying, I've never seen him so into a girl before.” She tells you, lying on your bed as you rummage through your closet for something to wear.

For the last hour, she has been persistently trying to convince you that Kelly has suddenly developed a romantic interest in you.

“Leslie, I know he's your best friend and roommate and that you have to be on his side or whatever- but come on, we both know how he is. Which one?” You ask, revealing two black dresses you were struggling to choose between.

“The one on the left.” She answers before going back to the topic at hand, “He’s changed Y/N- he hasn't brought home a single girl in the last month! If that doesn't tell you something then I don't know what will.” She exclaimed.

“Just because he hasn't brought them home doesn't mean he hasn't been to their places instead.” You point out, putting on the dress.

She sighs. “Just give him a chance Y/N, he's a great guy.”

“I know he is, but being a great man doesn't also necessarily make you a great boyfriend.” You say while beginning your hair and makeup.

“You’re so difficult.” She counters, earning a giggle from you.

Shay had gone home and since you were done getting ready with 30 minutes to spare, you decided to watch some TV.

You were flipping through the channels when you heard a knock at your door. Assuming your date had arrived early, you hurriedly went to answer it.

“Hey, you made it-” You speak excitedly before looking up and noticing who it is, “Severide?” You furrow your brows, not expecting him to be here.

“You look absolutely breathtaking.” He says, looking you up and down.

His words quickened the pace of your heart. And the way his gaze slowly roamed down the outline of your body caused a shiver to run down your spine, electrifying every nerve along the way.

“Uhh, thanks… But what are you doing here? If you're looking for Shay, she left a while ago-” You quickly answer, pushing aside the way his compliment made you feel before he cuts you off.

“I'm not here for her, I’m here to talk to you.”

“Well, you better make it quick because I'm sure my date will be here soon.” You open the door further, letting him into your space.

“Screw that guy!” He says turning to face you towards the door, “How many times do I have to ask you- go out with me. Please.”

If you didn't know him any better, you'd almost think he was desperate with the way he was pleading.

“Kelly,” You pause, noticing the way his breath hitches at your use of his first name. “I don't want to be just another name you add to your list of girls you've slept with.”

“You won't be! I like you Y/N and if you let me, I can prove it to you. I’m done with all the women- all I want is you.” He lets out exasperated.

“You mean that?” Still unsure of his motives, you look into his eyes searching for anything to prove to you that he’s being honest.

He nods before repeating his earlier statement while taking a step closer to you, “So how about, you call up your coffee shop man, tell him you're canceling and let me take you on this date instead?”

You laugh, “You drive a hard bargain Kelly Severide.”

“Is that a yes?”

You nod, not being able to contain your ear-to-ear grin, loving the way he beams back at you. That smile is something you could definitely get used to.

“Don't make me regret this Severide.” You say in a teasing manner.

“God no.” He says relieved before swiftly pulling you into a bone-crushing hug, causing you to erupt into a fit of giggles.

Maybe Shay was right, maybe he really had changed for the better.

[genshin-impact-unofficial]

Naughty Little Secret Pt.3

Reactions of Genshin men finding your spicy literature.

Bonus Ft. Scaramouche, Itto, and Xiao

(Part 1) Diluc, Cyno, and Thoma (Part 2) Childe, Albedo, and Alhaitham

Tags: PG-13, Sexual Themes, GN!Reader, Technically SFW, Crushes, Lot more cussing in this one, Use of the word dick but not sexual lol, All these boys dont know how to regulate emotions, Bullying scaramouche, fluff-ish?, Spoiler: Xiao wants to be dominated! Notes: (repost)

Scaramouche

You worked your ass off to rise up in the Fatui ranks. Not everyone could handle the cut throat atmosphere that you had to endure day in and day out. But still, it really takes a special kind of self-loathing to accept the position as the right hand General of the Balladeer. It’s almost like he enjoys making your life hell. You endured it simply because you’ve come too far to let that little brat ruin it all. 

 “General Y/N, be ready to leave at dawn.” The harbinger stated to you, lounging casually at his desk, appearing not to have a care in the world. You turn around slowly and don't even try to hide your annoyance on your face. Your hands were already literally and figuratively full of paperwork that you had every intention of completing before this point. You take a deep sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose to keep the growing migraine at bay. 

“Yes sir, where shall I prepare us to go?” You ask calmly, it was not worth it to get snippy with him this early. He would surely only take it as a challenge.

“Hmm... I feel like exploring the ruins of Mondstadt.” The man shrugged, glancing over at you to see your reaction. 

“Mondstadt?!?! That’s a three day trip sir. Are you-” You stopped yourself when you saw the devilish grin on his features. This was exactly what he wanted. “Orders received, I’ll inform the convoy to be ready at dawn.” You stated sharply and swiftly turned to exit the room. What a dick. You were no stranger to these impromptu expeditions. Chances were, Scaramouche really did have business to attend to at the destination. What never ceased to boil your blood, was the fact that he loved to withhold this information from you until the very last minute. You packed light and awaited your next orders like usual. 

 -

The first leg of the journey was incredibly dull since you had refused to travel in the same wagon as Scaramouche. Even when he went out of his way to push your buttons during stops, you would only give him a short reply and walk away. It was quite annoying to the harbinger. Having nothing to entertain himself with left the Balladeer in a terrible mood. By the time camp was set up for the night, he stormily resigned to his quarters immediately.  Scaramouch’s belongings were already left on his sleeping cot when he entered. It was no doubt set up in advance to avoid risking anyone getting on his bad side. He opened is bags to retrieve his intelligence reports.... but the contents inside were unfamiliar to him. What an incompetent crew!

“I’m going to have someones head for thi-” His agitation ceased when he read your name written neatly on the ledger inside the pack. About time...something interesting. Without any regard for your privacy, he flipped through your notes. Ugh, you could be such a bore sometimes. You were his favorite play thing, but above all else you were also a diligent attendant. There was nothing but concise notations on work matters inside, so Scaramouche tossed it aside and searched further into the bag. His next finding was a book, seemingly a fiction novel with a bookmark indicating you were still in the midst of reading it. Boring.... The man thought while mindlessly skimming through the pages. 

The cool night breeze hit her bare skin, raising goosebumps all over her body. Only the scorching warmth of his hands could be felt as they explored her every curve. The lewd sounds of their passion rang throughout the trees and her legs began to tremble in pleasure as he- Scaramouche immediately slammed the book closed with far too much force and threw it back into your bag. He didn’t even bother zipping it up before storming outside. 

You had just finished your duties for the night. It took twice as long since your infuriating boss just had to throw a tantrum and go hole himself up in his quarters. Your tent was luckily also set up and ready for use. Maybe you would even treat yourself to a little reading, that is if you didn’t pass out from exhaustion as soon as your head hit the pillow. You didn’t think twice before opening the bag atop your bed. Huh? This isn’t- 

“Y/N TAKE YOUR STUPID STUFF! ESPECIALLY THAT FILTHY PORNOGRAPHIC BOOK OF YOURS!” Scaramouche was bursting into your tent and just about whipped your bag at you. The boy’s expression was incredibly uneasy, his bright angry blush could be seen from Celestia. On one hand, you were positively furious that he had the nerve to snoop through your things, but on the other hand you examined the sight of your flustered boss.... now that was new. 

“It’s not porn...” You forced down your utter embarrassment and rolled your eyes at him. “It’s just a little romance novel, don’t tell me that’s what’s got you so utterly nervous? Did you need someone to guide you through its contents?” You asked in a low sultry tone while taking a couple slow prowling steps towards the harbinger. His eyes were now as wide as saucers, bewildered, he stood frozen in place. 

“You’re being ridiculous.. I don’t - How dare you assume-” Scaramouche tried to form a complete thought, or maybe a threat, but it was painfully obvious he had lost his ability to think straight with you leaning in so close to him. Personal space was getting awfully scarce when you saw the Balladeer’s eyes flicker for a fraction of a second to your lips and back. You grinned wickedly, deciding it was time to put the helpless boy out of his misery. 

“Well then!” You suddenly clasped your hands together, leaned back, and shoved Scaramouche’s pack roughly into his arms. “Since you’re all set, then out you go.” You smiled cheerily, spinning him around and kicking him out of your tent without a second glance. “Nighty night, see ya in the morning sir.” 

Scaramouch stood rigidly outside your tent, face burning, utterly disheveled, and reeling from the interaction he had just had. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the thrill of your attention or from how absolutely fucking livid he was at you.

Itto

You weren’t an ‘official’ member of the Arataki Gang per say, but you were no stranger to their big goofball leader. Itto had slowly wormed his way into your daily routine and he had no plans of leaving anytime soon. The oni and his friends were a blast to be around, but you just weren’t the type to run around causing mischief. You worried that you would just end up being a killjoy. Instead of being a stick in their ever-exciting mud, you settled for hanging in the background of their antics and just reveling in their positive energy. You even brought your own entertainment so you wouldn’t be a bother to them. 

Itto on the other hand, had been dying to recruit you into the gang since FOREVER! You were so cool and smart all the time! But every time he offered you a spot, you politely declined. Damn! That just made you even cooler! He wouldn’t quit here though, it just wasn’t in his nature to give up on something so important. Itto gathered his boys and hashed out their next plan. Impressing you with their mad skills didn’t seem to do the trick. Maybe.... maybe they needed to impress you even HARDER! The gang chattered in excitement, an extravagant burping tournament already forming in their little heads.

“OR how about you try to appeal to Y/N’s interests?... Ya know, like trying to get to know them more?” Shinobu interjected before their tournament plan actually got momentum. Itto contemplated her words for a moment before breaking out into a wide grin. 

“Yeah, yeah yeah! You’re onto somethin’ Shinobu!” Itto praised. “I gotta show them how well we get them! Then Y/N will be begging to join the gang!” 

“Ok well... I don’t know about-” 

“Come on boys! We got some work to do!” It was too late. Itto was charging full steam ahead before his second in command could get another word in. The oni had to play it cool the next time he saw you. If you caught wind of what they were trying to do, it might ruin the whole plan. The whole operation was considered a “Super-Top-Secret-Arataki-Gang-Stealth-Mission”. It was all so brilliant, but the only problem was.... how was he supposed to figure out your interests without asking you? 

You were always so thoughtful, like when you make the time to listen to Itto rant on and on about his latest and greatest plans. He just wanted to listen about your favorite things too! Itto hardly took his eyes off you as you settled into your usual spot to read. That’s it! He’ll get into reading! That way he could talk book stuff or something! All he had to do was read all the books you read. Easy!  

The next day, Itto scoured high and low at every bookshop in for the title he saw you reading. He got some strange looks from some of the shop owners, but in the end he found it! He ended up selling a couple of his Genius Invokation TCG cards for the mora, but it would all be worth it in the end if it meant you would become their newest member. The oni was so excited he couldn’t even wait for the boys. He ended up sitting right outside the bookshop and cracking open the volume. Itto flipped around the pages, his version of ‘speed reading’ as he calls it, until a specific passage stuck out at him.

He sunk his teeth into her supple skin, and latched onto her neck. Red and purple love marks littered her needy body. Big rough hands gripped at her thighs, sharp claws claiming them for his own. The next sound was that of tearing fabric for her undergarments were no more. His mouth watered, it craved her, and he would restrain himself no longer.- 

“Boss! Did you find it?” Itto was startled when he heard his gang arrive. 

“Uhhhh HEy! Nope! Not a thing.” He said shutting the book and shooting to his feet. “Wow look at the time! I- uh... I got to go eat supple. I MeAN GEt SuPPER. Hahahah I A GOtta gO ByE!!!” Itto could hardly control the words spilling from his mouth. He took off running, leaving the gang utterly confused.

Itto struggled to sleep that night, unable to grasp the thought of you reading those graphic depictions all the time with a straight face. The next time you encountered the oni, it was transparently obvious that something was very wrong. Itto’s signature loud and confident personality had done a complete 180. He refused to look at you... like at all. You feared you’d done something to offend the big lovable goof and you decides this had to be sorted out right away.

“Itto is something wrong?” You had to resort to cornering the man to get him to talk to you. It was a humorous sight to see, you blocking the path of a huge oni that could easily barrel through you. Of course, the moment Itto’s eyes met yours, a fresh blush began to bloom across his face. He broke, instantly coming clean about everything.

“WeWantedToHaveYouJoinSOSoSoBadWeTriedToFindOutMoreAboutYouYourBookIsFullOfSomeDirtyScenesAndNowIDontThinkIWasSupposed-” Itto spoke impossibly fast and you couldn’t understand the flustered jumbled mess at all. You placed a comforting hand on his arm, encouraging him to take a deep breath. After giving him a moment to collect himself, you prompt him to start again but slowly... 

“The gang and I really like when you’re around. We want you to enjoy being around us too. So I thought if I, uh.... ya know. If I figured out what you were always reading about, that I would learn more about you. I just ah... didn’t expect the um...” 

“You read my...” You paused, the pieces finally slotted together in your head. “Oh archons! Uh actually, you can just leave me here Itto. I need to find a big rock to go die under now.” You said absolutely mortified. It was your turn to not be able to look for friend in the eye ever again. Covered your cheeks that were sure to be red as the oni’s horns now.

“What? Hey, come on now Y/N.” Itto jumped to action and like a switch he was immediately trying to cheer you up. “It’s not that bad! The rest of the gang doesn’t know a thing, and I promise my mouth is locked shut! I swear, oni’s honor!” He held one hand in the air and the other over his heart. “How about I tell you a secret? That way we’re even and no one has to be embarrassed, yeah?” Itto suggested. He leaned down to meet your eye line and to offer you a sweet smile. “Let’s see, ooooo I got it! So one time when I was practicing my mad skills on the beach my great sword slipped right out of my hand, the handle hit me straight on the noggin. Knocked me right out for hours.” You couldn’t help but giggle a little, it did sound very Itto after all. Seeing you smile spurred him to continue. “That’s not even the worst of it! When I woke up, bunch of salt water leaches were latched on my neck and chest. I couldn’t let the boys know, I have an image I gotta keep here. So when they asked me about the marks... I may have told a little tiny lie that they were hickeys.” Now you were struggling to breath with how hard you were laughing at the ridiculous story. 

“Okay okay I feel better. You win.” You hold up your hands in playful surrender and Itto’s triumphant smile was once again where it belonged. It reminded you why you loved his company so much.

“Of course I win! They don’t call me the one and oni for nothin! HAHA!” 

Xiao

Reading mortal ‘light novels’ was something relatively new to Xiao. He may not be able to see why you love it so much, but he respected seeing the passion in your eyes while recanting the epic fictional battles. It was endearing enough that the yaksha agreed to read some of the suggestions you made for him. The strange nuanced situations sometimes confused Xiao, but you were always happy to break it down logically for him. It had become a pleasant pass time for both of you.

“Y/N I finished this one.... It was good i think.” Xiao handed you back the book you had lent him. 

“Pfft, you think? Did you like the story?” You chuckled, amused. 

“The last one, I liked that one more.” The adeptus stated decisively. Xiao would never speak negatively about your interests. But... sometimes he opted to change the subject instead. 

“Ah, you have good taste.” You praised him, the excitement was evident from your expression. “I just finished the squeal yesterday! It should be on the desk over there, you should definitely check it out!” Xiao nodded and couldn't help but be amused. He grabbed the top book off your desk, not caring in particular if it was the correct one. The trivial plots were not his reason for doing any of this anyway. He would never tell you, but it was so he could in sit here beside you and just be content in your company. He didn’t know many people comfortable enough to spend hours together in silence. It was a relief not to be required to fill it with idle conversation. Xiao settled in the chair next to you and absentmindedly began to read the repetitive lines of words. Just  like the volumes before, he began to see the plot set up to follow the same tropes and struggles all over again except, huh....

He sat obediently in front his charge, and it was as if her power hungry gaze could swallow him whole. She wanted to control his every breath and moan while she had him here. His heart, body, and mind belonged to her to do with as she pleased. Her orders were direct and clear and he would always desperately follow. When he dis as he was told he was always rewarded by her noises of ecstasy. The sound of it sent a pleasant shiver down his own spine. He lived for this, for her, and he would serve her until she was nothing but satisfied-

“Xiao are you alright? You look feverish.“ Xiao tore his eyes from the pages and locked onto your concerned gaze. He was lost. How was he supposed to handle the thoughts swirling in his head? Your book was so... lewd. How could someone like you read? Did that mean you thought of.. “Xiao?”

In a split second, the yaksha was gone in a puff of black smoke. You were left alone and baffled by what the hell just happened. Was something wrong? He usually explained before leaving suddenly, or at least had the decency to say goodbye. You thought over and over in your head, but it all became clear when you spotted the abandoned romance novel on the chair. Ohhh no. 

-

It had been two weeks since your interaction Xiao. It only took a couple of days before you were able to push past your humiliation and call out to him. You waited.... but It became clear that the adeptus was avoiding you. Even your trips up to Wangshu Inn proved fruitless time and time again. Was this guy being serious right now? The remaining feelings of embarrassment and annoyance had completely dissolved into fear by the second week. You began feeling worried that your friend may have just completely dropped you, or was out there hurt. The weight of it all was eating away at you. You finally made the decision that you had to know for sure.

“XIAO!” You yelled off the rooftop of the inn. “I know you hear me! If you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore, at least tell me to my face! I won’t force you to be my friend, but at least be honest! Please, I just can’t take this!” You call out loudly into the wind. It would look absolutely mad to any passersby but you didn’t care anymore. 

“You’re being absurd.” Xiao’s voice muttered, appearing without a sound on the rooftop.

“Xiao! I’m so glad you’re o-” You almost were so excited to see the boy again that you started to step forward without thinking. Remembering the situation, you restrained yourself. You wouldn't want to make him uncomfortable. It was obvious from his avoidant gaze and rosy complexion that he was just as uneasy as when you last saw him.

“Who’s telling you that I want nothing to do with you. It’s nothing but a lie.” Xiao stated seriously. Blush or not, he seemed offended by the accusation.

“No one said anything. I assumed as much since you’ve been ignoring me for weeks! What am I supposed to think Xiao?” You explained to him frustrated. You perhaps still felt a little hurt, but you didn’t realize how much. Not until you felt tears begin to prick at your eyes. “It’s hurtful to go from having a best friend, to meaning nothing to them.” You cross your arms and try to blink away the tears threatening to fall. Xiao is the one to step forward next, clearly processing what you had just said and barely coming to a realization. Fuck, this guy can be so dense sometimes.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I have hurt you while I was only thinking of my own shame.” His voice was soft and earnest. “Please believe me when I say, I never wanted to stop being close to you. And please allow me to resume doing so.” You smiled, of course forgiving Xiao without hesitation. But not without conditions.

“I forgive you... But as my best friend, you have to promise not to tell a living soul about that book. Not a peep, nothing! I’m talking, take this secret to your grave.” You beam up at him, officially declaring him your best friend for the first time. 

“R-right of course.” Xiao’s composure stuttered once again, a fierce blush returning to his cheeks. “I promise, not a word...”

<A/N: This was an ask from my old blog! I was scared for a moment it was lost to the ether but I found it in my documents! Writing flustered Scara is so fun NGL!>

[aihoshiino]

chapter 155 thoughts

Thanks for your patience! I had some stuff crop up IRL this week that kept getting in the way of my chapter review but we're so oshi no back

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Entirely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: 12

Aqua Hoshigan Status: White

i can't believe toxic yuri was the real core theme of this manga all along

With the long road to revenge seemingly conquered, Oshi no Ko eases us into a bit of a false high before the real finale comes barrelling in. As with 152, it feels like we're tying off a number of arcs that have lasted through the series, with certain characters getting what is clearly supposed to be their big emotional resolutions… and unfortunately, as with 153-4, while a lot of these beats are satisfying on paper, they suffer a lack of buildup that makes them ring a bit hollow. OnK's clumsy handling of certain characters during the Movie Arc has really come back to bite it during the finale, leaving me feeling like a lot of the emotional payoffs for them are undercut and the character work they're doing doesn't have the groundwork it needs to properly resonate. I defo didn't hate this chapter like some folks seemed to, but it has some pretty substantial issues in terms of micro and macro storytelling I am compelled to talk about. This is one of those chapter reviews I think comes across way more negative than it necessarily is lol but man did this one give me a headache…

To start things off, the thing that initially delayed this review: page fucking one!!! By total coincidence, this was the first chapter in basically forever where I didn't get a chance to look at the JP raws until like two days after it dropped and as such I was ripping my hair out trying to figure out who the narrator was on page one - the use of 'Mama' made me wonder if it was Ruby, but the visual flow of the page is much more biased in favor of Aqua and I probably don't need to tell you how fucking huge it would be for Aqua to have called Ai that for the first time!!! However, based on the speech patterns of the speaker in Japanese and the way subsequent pages flow from this intro, I'm pretty settled on it being Ruby - this chapter is a sort of closing of the book on her involvement in the revenge play or as my friend Mala put it, it's Ruby's homecoming so to speak. And like… honestly, thank god lol.

I get a lot of Ruby fans have wanted her to be more involved in this side of the story for a good while but I think the Black Hoshigan Ruby arc playing out like it did made it pretty clear that Ruby as a character is not super well suited to playing a role in the revenge half of OnK in the way that Akasaka wants it to be written. Not just that, but her actual post-BH characterization in relation to this arc has been such a wet fart that I really think it has taken away a lot more than it has added to her arc.

Not only that but… most of it didn't even happen onscreen lol! Not only did we get that absolutely baffling speech in 147 where she literally looked into the camera and Explained With Her Words the character arc she was supposedly having this whole time (just offscreen and nowhere the reader could see) but we now get Aqua going "well ruby decided to forgive him so it is what it is i guess". It feels so limp as a reason for him to have flipped on a dime like he did, especially when we still haven't fucking seen this supposedly lifechanging performance of Ruby's!!!! SO many characters have the resolutions to their Ai-adjacent arcs connected to how Ruby chose to play Ai in the movie but we're not actually seeing it. We're just sort of talking around it and having it exposited to us. I want to assume this is setup for us eventually seeing it ourselves but like… at this point, IS there any point to us revisiting the movie's content? Everything we might have learned from it has already been addressed by characters Telling Us To Our Faces How It Made Them Feel And Gave Them Therapy so it would ultimately be superfluous.

God. I hate still bitching about the Movie Arc now we're out of it, but it really is the albatross around the neck of this finale. So many of the issues littered through these last ten or so chapters are the result of the Movie Arc's fumbling and misuse of the cast and its failure to establish the emotional throughlines that should have been tied off by these chapters. I keep feeling like I'm repeating myself when I talk about XYZ Narrative Beat not being bad on paper but being less effective than it should do because of lacking underlying foundation but it really is the one central thing plaguing this arc right now.

i get what you guys are going for but. seeing aqua just let kamiki walk away when he has definitely killed people is really funny.

The twins' return to Miyako is another moment that I like in theory but honestly just feels frustrating. It's been over 25 chapters - a week short of an entire year since 125 came out where Miyako lamented her inability to reach the twins like a 'real' mother would and this thread was immediately dropped like a rock. She had zero involvement in the Movie Arc even during parts it was straight up absurd that she was not at least reacting to the events going on, didn't have any reaction to the movie or like… anything going on that could have more organically lead to this development.

I also have to say. The twins returning to Miyako performing this Snapshot of Aesthetic Motherhood (as u/DeliSoupItExplodes on the OnK sub put it) felt kind of. Weird and even a little icky to me in a way I've been struggling to articulate. Just that it felt extremely on the nose and kind of. eeeh.

that said. i won't pretend i'm not 4x critically weak to an 'okaeri' / 'tadaima' exchange at the end of a long quest or journey…

For all my complaints about the surrounding context, this scene in isolation is pretty much the one part of this chapter that just uncritically works. It's hard not to read it as a parallel to Miyako offering to adopt the kids in chapter 10 - except there, Aqua refuses to step into his new family. Here, Miyako pulls him into the embrace and the two of them finally engage not as peers but as a mother and son, as they've needed to do all this time. Her words here are so lovely and so, so sincere that it's really no wonder Aqua breaks down in tears. As much as I've bitched about the lacking work in his arc across the last major chunk of chapters, it's nevertheless been incredibly cathartic to see Aqua finally start letting down his walls, believing in his future and letting people love him. I just wish it had the buildup to really land.

also the twins just… still have not had a real conversation or interaction about literally anything lol.

Ichigo's back…! I already aired my major complaint about this scene vis-a-vis Ruby but I imagine this is the last time we're going to get a real Moment with Ichigo so I might as well get this off my chest now: it was and continues to be utterly bonkers to me that of the characters we saw having Feelings about the 15 Year Lie cast screening, Ichigo was not one of them. And it's even more bonkers that we got this whole bit waxing poetic about fucking Kaburagi and how he feels soooo bad about Ai when like… I'm sorry, but Kaburagi's feelings about Ai are so low on my list of priorities as to be functionally irrelevant. Quite frankly, he does not matter and it's INSANE that the story gave this misty-eyed moment to him and not Ichigo - you know, the agent of the industry that went on to exploit and kill her, her literal, actual dad whose guilt over what happened to her made him ghost his family for nearly twenty years? Can you imagine what an insanely powerful moment of resolution it would've been for that moment of Kaburagi addressing Ai through the 15YL poster to have gone to Ichigo instead?

I also have to note this weird ongoing thread of 'the Dome' being framed as Ai's dream that Ruby is inheriting when it, uh, patently was not! I'm sure she felt some pride in her success but all she herself said on the matter back when it came up was that she didn't get what a big deal it was but that since everyone else was happy, she'd be happy too. I initially took this to be laying the groundwork to disprove this idea and make the characters work out what Ai really wanted in her heart of hearts but now the narrative seems to just be uncritically treating this as a value neutral fact. So… who even knows lol.

Short hair Akane returns…! I don't imagine it was planned, but it's a cute coincidence that she cut her hair in the manga right around the time anime Akane grew hers out for season 2. I've always liked short hair Akane best so this was a nice surprise…

I have to say it was uh, really funny to see so many people get so shocked and mad when Akane talked about 'imitating Hoshino Ai' and screaming that this was a retcon or ruining Akane's character when like… was this really news to you guys??? Even before she grew her hair out, she flipped her bangs to go in the same direction as Ai's as soon as she started acting as her and she was popping hoshigans all over the place when she was getting her career off the ground… like, seriously, was this really a shock to people???

Anyway uh. Vindication for me from this scene!!! I've been pointing out for over a year now that we should be very cautious about taking it at face value that Hikaru killed Gorou and Yura because the story has been very delicately implying that to be the case while avoiding confirming it outright in a way that reeked of a red herring to me. That combined with his failure to even mention these two victims while 'fessing up to Aqua really raised some additional red flags for me and finally, we see Aqua confirming that no, Hikaru was not the one person behind everything, Light Yagami style and the final boss of the series seems set to be B-Komachi's former Queen of Smiles. Fuyuko Niino.

And Iiiiiiiii… feel very uneasy about this twist!

First of all; I have to acknowledge that nope, we have no fuckin clue how either Aqua or Akane figured this out but we'll probably get the exposition in that regard over and done with next chapter. Also something a lot of people caught is that Ryosuke is referred to with a different name here - Sugano vs Kaihara, which was used during the Movie Arc. I've heard this called out as a mistake/retcon and it could be, but tbh I'm inclined to think it's just that Ryosuke's name was changed for the movie, since a point is made about needing everyone's permission to include them in the movie and they, uh… can't exactly ask Ryosuke!

But… back to the real point here.

Nino has been one of my favourite OnK characters since I first read 45510 and every subsequent expansion on her character and her relationship with Ai has only made me more invested in her. But the story setting her up as the final villain here is… it leaves me feeling a little cold and very uncertain about how it'll go.

First off, the framing of Nino on these last two pages is just so overwrought that it's a little ridiculous lol. The image of her squatting in her filthy room, listening to old B-Komachi tracks and staring at a poster of the old group with all the other members but her and Ai aggressively scribbled out… it feels downright parodic to an extent that I think honestly makes Nino that much less nuanced and human by its inclusion alone.

Like… a big part of what I loved about Nino's inclusion in the story and how her relationship with Ai was framed was that it was messy and honest in a way that felt like it wasn't judging Nino herself or making her out to be a villain. Her and Ai's relationship breakdown was a two-sided failure of communication spurred on in large part by Ai's own avoidance and inability to have frank, sincere discussions with the people who cared about her. Nino's tangled up feelings of admiration and desire, envy and resentment, love and hate were not flattering but they felt so real and so human. She was a young girl put into an impossible situation and without the power to change the invisible dynamics of the systems around her, she lashed out at the person in front of her that she could see. The impression I always got was that part of what so deeply fucked up her feelings about Ai was her lack of closure - that she had never gotten to say sorry or patch things up. That she had screamed I wish you'd die at someone she loved and then she fucking died. No wonder she was a mess.

All this though… maybe I'm overreacting when we're just a page and a half into this reveal but again, the framing here really does feel so exaggerated and shallow. It feels like it's falling into the trap OnK previously fell into with the GRSR relationship where it attempts to amp up the drama by massively overexagerrating the emotions at play, blowing them up to their hugest possible extreme and letting all nuance and subtlety get lost in the noise. Ultimately, this will all come down to execution and while it's possible for AkaMengo to get us back on track with the Nino I already liked… idk. Like I said. I'm uneasy.

I also can't let it go unsaid - accidentally or otherwise, the framing of Nino here leans extremely hard into the stereotype of the 'psycho'/predatory lesbian and I don't think I need to explain why that sucks donkey nuts, especially in the midst of a manga that is so insufferably hetero at all other times.

at least she has good taste in b-komachi tracks.

[empressofmankind]

On My Silent Days

I Miss You A Little Louder

[Crocodile x female!OC]

Explicit with a capital E

Word count: 7k / 15 pages

A/N: Writing this has been my whole life the past 5 days, as anyone who has frequented my Dash recently can attest. I am obsessed with their chemistry.

Technically, this is part of 'The Show Must Go On'. You don't have to read it, but I recommend it. You'll get to know Shivs and her helter-skelter relationship with Buggy which sits as the background to this whole ordeal.

You see, this is like, Arabaste arch at the earliest - Cross Guild era more likely. By then, Shivs and Bugs have rollercoastered through so much bullshit and they've come out rock solid on the other side somehow. Clown keeps failing up, even with this relationship. Sir Crocodile finds the whole thing insulting, to say the least. And seems to think it is one well-placed remark away from utterly crumbling. Jealous ex, whomst? My dude, you fucked that up yourself. Repeatedly. You had more chances than you have fingers. Chemistry aside, this is absolutely a desert of his own making.

What else do you need to know? Shivs is only 2 or 3 years younger than Buggy (i.e. my age, come sue me), but Crocodile is 5 years older than the clown. So, she's in her mid 30s, he's in his mid 40s. She originally met him when he was maybe 28? Do the math. Oh yes, and for those less familiar with the Cross Guild era: our favourite clown has managed to accidentally become the lauded public face of what is actually Mihawk and Crocodile's venture. Understandably, the ex-warlords are a little miffed by this and spend decent amounts of time physically abusing poor Buggy.

Shivs' absolutely flawless plan is basically swapping sexual favours with her ex for get-out-of-jail-free cards for the clown.

My girl literally barging in here telling Croc: "I'll take ur cock if u leave my clown alone."

Yes. That's it. That's the plot.

She almost had him, too. Arguably, she had him the entire time. And then he gdamn snapped her from the pond edge like an unwitting gazelle in the last minute. Cuz we all - her included - forgot who we're dealing with for 14.5 pages straight. APPARENTLY.

screams into a pillow

Tag(s): Oh? Ok. Sexual favours! Is she fucking her boss? No, but he always makes it feel that way. Is she fucking her ex? Yes. Are they technically still married? Maybe. Blow jobs? Deep throat. Size kink? 100%. Filthy language. Graphic sex. Soft dom? Power bottom? I am on the fence. Little girl vibes on the margins, like, he tries. She too sassy and sooner a brat. Oh, orgasm denial! Big time. Humiliation? A little bit. Stretching? Yes. Moar size kink. Choking? Big yes. Spoiling? Also yes. She deserves nice things. Power imbalance? Yes. In whose direction? It kind of flip-flops. Did I need to spend so many words on their smoking and his cigars? Probably not, but it scratched an itch. With them, it counts as foreplay; I am sure. You know you're doing well when he takes the damn thing outta his mouth. World class banter, too. If I may say so myself. But really, the bottom line is that it's just oral and PIV dressed up real fancy.

ON MY SILENT DAYS 

I MISS YOU A LITTLE LOUDER

The double doors were as tall and foreboding as Shivs remembered. All bevelled hardwood and delicate gilding. She stood before them, gazing up. In the dead centre sat a brass knocker shaped like a bananawani's head, polished to a sheen. 

Knocking was for people with appointments, and waiting wasn't something she planned on doing here ever again. She put her palms against the cold, expensive wood and pushed the massive doors open as if breaking a siege. They swung on smooth hinges despite their weight and struck the marbled walls with resounding booms.

The opulent office beyond was exactly as she remembered. Marquina walls, fishbone parquet floors, blackwood furniture. The taxidermied juvenile bananawani set in the wall vitrine behind his desk was new. What had been there before? A map? A ship? No, a stone. An artefact of some kind riddled in curious glyphs.

Crocodile glanced up from his papers and the irritation flitting across his scarred face in the split second before he realised who'd dared barge in, set the hairs on the back of her neck on end. How often had she seen someone shrivel into a desiccated husk straight after that look?

Shivs held his pale gaze, set her jaw and strode into his office as if down the plank. 

The creak of leather as he leaned back in his seat. “You know I've killed people for less.”

She paused in front of his outrageous statement piece of a desk. She put her hands in the pockets of her baggy pants and forced her shoulders to unclench, her stance to relax. If Buggy’s dumb luck had managed to rub off on her in these past months, then now would be the time for it to start working for her.

“Lucky I am not ‘people’,” she said as she crossed her fingers in her pocket. 

Amusement squinted his eyes as the corner of his mouth twitched up behind his cigar. “No, you're not,” he said as he rose.

Shivs was not short. Not by any regular definition of the word. Buggy was only a head taller than her. She hadn't forgotten how tall Crocodile was, not really. And yet, as he came around his desk and towards her, there appeared to be no end to him as he approached. If she reached up, stretched her arm, she could nick his cigar. But only just.

"Do you still smoke?" he said as he stopped well within her personal space, forcing her to crane her neck to meet his gaze. He took a flat, brass case from the inside pocket of his coat and held it out to her. She remembered it. Remembered the exquisite taste of the narrow cigarillos in it.

"No."

"Liar." His gaze flicked down along his cigar at her. "You smell of cigarettes, doll."

"I have changed my ways."

Humour flitted under his gravelly voice. "For the worse." 

Shivs pursed her lips. "It's an expensive lifestyle when they don't come free with a goodnight kiss."

"Hah." 

The bark of laughter actually reached his eyes, crinkling their crow's feet for a moment. He held out the case to her again. "You poor thing. I do support charities, you know."

She took it this time and flipped it open. The rich waft of tobacco and sweet Goji berries greeted her as if no time had passed at all. Might as well enjoy her sojourn back to hell while she could.

She put one of the thin cigarillos between her lips and let him light it. Watched the firelight catch and reflect in his rings. Took a moment to savour the blend, rich and sweet as polished Beli.

They were very good.

Always had been.

Shivs took the cigarillo from between her lips and blew the smoke up in rings through a slow smile. They almost reached him.

Crocodile leaned down through the cloudy hoops to pluck the shoulder of her red-and-white striped sweater between thumb and index finger, a judgemental 'hmph' escaping around his cigar.

She enjoyed the expensive smoke and his fascination while it lasted. Maybe, just maybe, this would be enough? Letting him treat her like a doll badly in need of a better dress up? He liked to spoil, always had. Now, more than ever, he had the means to take it to completely nonsensical levels. Her ego could take it, if that was the price of leaving Bugs alone.

Shivs indicated his everything with an up and down wave of her free hand. "No way to afford the good stuff on a waiter's salary."

He let go of the fabric to brush his thumb across the smear of grease paint near the collar, staining his skin and the gold of his ring red.

"Or a dud's haul." 

He hooked the silk kerchief from his vest's breast pocket and wiped his hand. She followed the length of his arm up to his face.

"The entertainment isn't half bad."

“Yes.” He chewed the butt of his cigar, derision twitching his thin lips as he tucked the kerchief into an inside pocket of his coat. “His pathetic antics can be mildly amusing.”

Shivs’ grip on the cigarillo tightened, but she smiled pleasantly. “I like it when a man can make me laugh,” she said, pointing at him with the thin smoke between her fingers. “Even if at his own expense.”

She frowned at his broad back when he turned away from her without a witty reply, retreating to the button tufted camelback near them.

“You're not here for a social call,” Crocodile stated as he sat down, putting his arms along the sofa's curved back. Something flitted past his pale eyes, but it was gone so fast Shivs couldn't nail it. “What do you want, doll?” 

Shivs rolled back and forth on the balls of her feet, pursing her lips as if preparing to drive a hard bargain. She intended to seem casual, unconcerned. But her palms were slick with sweat and her heartbeat drummed in her ears. She filled her mouth with smoke, tasting the rich flavours. Savouring them before blowing it out in small puffs through her pursed lips.

"I want you to leave him be," she said, extinguishing the cigarillo in his ashtray.

Crocodile shifted and put his shin across his knee. Her gaze flicked down and she saw him take note. 

"And if I do?"

She held his gaze. One breath, two breaths, moved her jaw but didn't form the words. She wanted him to leave Buggy alone. Even if that meant taking his… beating, instead.

He blew out smoke through his nose, waiting patiently for her answer. The hint of a smile lingered as his pale eyes held hers from above the waterline of his scar. And in that moment, he reminded her so strongly of a lurking crocodile. Watching. Waiting. Biding its time to strike. It sent a shiver down her spine, and not entirely out of fear.

Shivs pursed her lips, steeled her emotions, checked her resolve. I'll do it for you, Bugs. It's a deal I know he won't refuse.

She met his intense gaze head on, then dropped hers slowly to his crotch once more. Allowed it to linger there, before looking back up.

He chewed the butt of his cigar and beckoned her. "You never could fit all of me down that skilled throat of yours." 

Shivs watched him uncross his legs as she approached. She trailed her fingertips along his clothed thighs before leaning on them. It brought her face level with his and she deliberately took a moment to breathe in his secondhand smoke. 

“Want to judge if that hasn't changed for the worse?” she whispered against his lips as she savoured the distinct flavours that made up his private blend. 

Strong muscles flexed and relaxed under her palms, and she presumed that to mean ‘yes’. 

She ran her hands down his muscular thighs, taking in their shape until her palms rested on his knees. His breathing changed, she could tell from the way he exhaled smoke. Denser palls, deeper breaths. No resistance as she pushed his knees apart far enough to kneel between them.

Brushing her fingertips across his overstated belt buckle, she smiled to herself. Some things never changed. She slipped the tooled tip through the frame, her movements slow and deliberate as she listened for the subtle shifts in his breathing. She loosened the prong with a sharp tug on the strap, using more force than was strictly necessary. An undercurrent of need laced the grunt that escaped him in response. 

Shivs reached into his pants with both hands, catching his gaze as she drew his penis out, feeling it swell against her palms. She made a noise of appreciation as she let her hands slide down his shaft. His pale eyes hunting after hers when she broke their gaze to look at her fingers fitting around the base. She had not forgotten how tall this part of him was.

Leaning forward, she trailed teasing kisses from halfway down his shaft towards the tip. I’ve swallowed swords longer than this, and dicks aren’t even sharp, she thought as she flicked her tongue past the rim, playful-like. Length was only half the problem though, she knew that perfectly well.

She put a hand on his thigh and leaned on it as she ran the flat of her tongue across the head and took him into her mouth, suckling the tip. Inched his cock further with deliberately slow, short bobs, tilting her head to ensure he’d catch every movement of her lips as they worked around him. Need strained his stoic expression when she stole a glance up. A twitch of his eyebrows when the tip bumped against the back of her mouth. She sucked down and drew his cock back out, watched it twitch and his grip tighten on the backrest as she felt his thigh flex under her palm.

She took him into her mouth again and ran the tip of her tongue along the underside of his cock. Relaxed her neck and let it slip further than before, teasing at the entrance to her throat. Nudging it, stretching it just a bit before sucking down and drawing him back out, tasting precum for her efforts.

The frustrated groan that rumbled up from somewhere deep within his broad chest sent sparks flying down her spine. This is gonna work, she thought as he reached for her head, petted her hair while she teased the precum from him with fleet, wet kisses.

“Stop messing around and swallow my cock, sweetheart,” Crocodile grunted, pale eyes alight with hunger. The petting stopped, fingers tangling into the hair at the back of her neck instead. It was like the twitch on the line that told a fisherman to react.

Shivs glanced up along his hard shaft, and reeled him in: 

“Yes, Sir.”

The horny groan that drew from him, before she’d even begun to take him again, settled comfortably in her bones. Gotcha, she thought.

Shivs breathed slow, deep, steady breaths as she slid his cock along her tongue, lining him up. The head pushed past the entrance of her throat and she switched to shallow breaths through her nose. The grunts and huffs that escaped him every time she swallowed were inhuman and she needed more of it.

She slid his cock further down, felt his thighs tremble as she did. The closer she got, the more his musk pervaded every stifled breath she managed around his thick cock. It was a heavy, heady scent and she shifted her position to press her thighs together. He didn’t notice.

She stroked his legs, ran her hands up to his hips as she leaned closer, and took him deeper still. His fingers were fisted painfully tight into her hair, but his large hand followed her without force or resistance, resting heavily against the back of her neck.

Almost. 

Almost there.

And then the tip of her nose bumped against his flat stomach. She could hardly smirk with his dick this far down her throat but counted on the crinkle of her eyes to work for her as she caught his gaze and slowly raised her hands, palms up. She didn’t care that they trembled. 

Look. No hands, motherfucker.

Crocodile grinned down at her through a huff of smoke, cigar dangling between his teeth. She thought it looked a little worse for wear.

“The pathetic clown doesn’t know what a dirty little slut you are, does he?” Crocodile said, his gravelly voice thick with lust as he petted the back of her neck. “Giving such sweet head to save his sorry hide.” He ran his fingers along her throat as if trying to feel how far down his cock had gone. “I always knew you could do it, sweetheart.”

“Now,” he added as he huffed out a pall of smoke and she felt cool metal sliding around the back of her neck, barring a retreat. “I need my cock-hungry doll to make me feel good.”

Shivs dropped her hands to his hips, gripping the folds of hard muscle there for support. She slid her tongue between her bottom lip and the underside of his cock, making sloppy little noises with the slightest bob of her head. Even those small movements pressed the round curve of his hook into the back of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine that made her squeeze her thighs together. She didn’t bother to try and hide it.

His large hand joined his hook, strong fingers digging into the back of her head, twisting into the hair there and holding her put as his thick cock twitched so far down her throat she didn’t even know anymore where precisely she felt it. She worked her throat around him, drawing rumbling moans from him that pitched.

“Ah -nngh- you feel so good, doll. So. Damn perfect.” His thighs tensed under her arms, flexing his hips with short jerks. She closed her eyes as she swallowed around him, frowning with effort. His breathy grunts as he lightly fucked her throat made her pussy throb.

Suddenly, his grip tightened like a vice and he shoved her nose-first against his hard, trembling stomach muscles, stealing her breath. Her eyes flew open as her throat strained and cramped, swallowing around him in reflex.

 “Fuck, honey. Ah---! Yes, yes.” The satisfied, drawn-out moan as Crocodile spilled his hot cum down her throat reverberated through the quiet office. 

Her fingers dug around his hips, tears jumping into her eyes as she gagged, feeling cum come up around his cock as stars danced into her vision. His grip weakened as he rode out his orgasm and she pulled back before he was quite done pumping cum. Shivs swallowed it mindlessly while coming up for air. His dick slid wetly out of her throat and mouth, streaks of cum connecting them before they broke.

She glanced up from his softening cock, glistening with her saliva all the way to the hilt. He’d tilted his head back, held his cigar nowhere near his mouth as he came down from his orgasm with deep, steadying breaths that expanded his wide chest and flared his nostrils.

He straightened with a lazy groan and a roll of his broad shoulders. 

Shivs met his gaze, panting.

“You’re still my pretty little thing, aren’t you?” Crocodile said, his gravelly voice breathy as he reached for her, stroking her cheek with his thumb. The gold of his ring was smooth where his fingertip felt rough, the warm touch grounding her fried senses. It lingered at her eyepatch, lightly brushing the faded leather. “The things we let people do to our faces…”

He hooked the kerchief from his pocket and dabbed her mouth. She reached for his hand with both of hers, touching the back of it, taking the cloth. She watched him watch her as she cleaned her face.

“Don’t you have a new pretty thing? Miss Face-of-the-Casino in her cute kimono?” Shivs forced her tone to be casual, edged with light mockery, maybe. It was stupid that it’d stung when she’d seen the younger woman. An irrational, petty feeling. An old pain. And, none of her business, at any rate.

The dismissive look that flitted past his pale eyes was rather unexpected. “An investment, nothing more.”

“She’s pretty,” Shivs said. Perhaps, part of the sting had been the fact that Miss Pretty had not responded to her the way women did when they were into other women.

Crocodile looked at his cigar before putting it back in his mouth. “That she is.”

Their gazes crossed and she pursed her lips. He reached for her jaw, fingertips grazing its curve. Then leaned down and pressed a peck against her frown. She sat up and chased after him as he took another draw from his cigar, stole the aromatic smoke from him as she teased her tongue into his mouth. He blew it out through his nose, taking the cigar from his mouth as he caught the back of her neck with his hook and took control of the kiss.

“You can have one if you like, sweetheart,” he said when they broke apart, indicating his cigar. 

And lord, if she wasn't tempted.

“You share ‘em these days?”

His derisive ‘hmph’ made her smirk as she rose to her feet. 

“What about Miss Pretty? She enjoy your… cigars?” Shivs said, and noticed she’d gotten his cum all over Buggy’s sweater. Shit.

Crocodile glanced at her, pale eyes searching. “I prefer making deals with those who have something of value to offer, doll.”

Shivs put her hands in her pockets and rocked up on the balls of her feet with a mildly overacted grin. “Oh, it’s a deal then? You’ll play nice?”

“My compliance doesn’t come that cheap,” he said through a huff of smoke.

She crooked an eyebrow, risking a hint of ridicule in her tone. “Cheap? And here I was, thinking I have a unique skill up for offer.”

He actually cracked a smile as he flicked the butt of his cigar into the general direction of his desk and ashtray. Then beckoned her with hook and hand. 

“Come here, doll.”

It would have been too easy.

She sauntered back to him and linked her fingers with his, curling the others around his hook, letting him draw her into his lap, straddling his thighs. He shifted so his cock was between them, pressing against her clothed cunt.

“What else will it cost me?” she said as she rested her hands on his shoulders, lightly riding against him. Every rub along his dick pulsed pleasure up her spine, and she hadn’t failed to notice it was already stiffening again.

He stoked the tip of his hook along her cheek as his large hand took in the shape of her firm butt, guiding her movement. “I want to know if your tight pussy can take all of me now, too.”

“Here, on a couch?” she said as she slipped her fingertips under his coat and pushed it off his shoulders. She trailed her hands down the revers of his vest, grabbed hold of them as she dry humped against him. “I thought you said you weren’t cheap?”

The bark of laughter that drew from him shouldn’t make her smile the way it did.

He pressed a kiss against it. 

“I wouldn’t dare, honey,” Crocodile said as he gathered her up in his arms and rose smoothly from the couch, leaving his coat behind. He strode across his study and through the adjacent library to the expansive bedroom beyond. She remembered the sweeping view from its curving window wall and the sea of nightlights twinkling far below.

Instead of depositing her on his spacious bed, he set her down on the plush rug beside it. And motioned up and down her clothes with a dismissive gesture. “Take those rags off.”

Not my rags, Shivs thought as she kicked her boots aside, removed her baggy pants and grabbed the edge of the sweater. She didn’t wear a bra. She didn’t like them, and she hadn’t bothered wearing one this evening either.

Fingertips traced the lacy sides of her underwear while she had the sweater pulled over her head.

“You still have those.”

He sounded…not surprised. Curious, maybe?

“No reason to get rid of perfectly fine underwear,” she said as she freed herself from the sweater, finding he’d already undressed.

“They can stay on,” he said as she folded the sweater, her hand lingering on it before she turned to him.

“For now?”

A smile twitched the corner of his lips. 

“Here, doll.” He held something out to her, cream-coloured and neatly folded. It seemed small and delicate in his large hand.

When she took it, the fabric cascaded into a surprisingly classy, mid-thigh negligee of shimmering silk. The top was constructed from intricately detailed lace with tiny bananawani worked into the pattern.

“Pretty,” she said as she brushed a finger across the delicate lace. She put it on and it fit her so neatly it felt like a second skin. An outrageously luxurious second skin for the silk felt soft as sin and the lace light as air. She turned a full circle on her tiptoe, overacting it just a little. She knew he liked that.

“Looks good on you.” He reached for her head, combing his fingers through her tangled red hair, tucking stray bangs behind the strip of her eyepatch. “I’d never let you get so grimy.”

“Can’t be a dirty little slut if you wash me.”

“Hah.” Crocodile leaned down and scooped her up into his arms, just like that. “Come here before I shove my cock down your throat again to shut you up.”

“Don’t tempt me- ah!”

Her reply cut off when he suddenly let go, dropping her into his bed. And that was quite the distance, even if the landing was soft. He immediately climbed on top of her, caging her with his much larger body. She spread her legs, accommodating his wider hips as he reached for her breast. His thumb traced circles around her nipple through the fine lace, stiffening at his touch.

“Like what you see?”

“Always have, doll,” he rumbled against her collarbone. Though no longer smoking, she could still smell it on him. Would be able to pick it out of a crowd. Subtle tones that reminded her of burnt coffee, dry glass and cinnamon, mingling with the faint wax smell of his hair gel and heavier citric notes of his cologne.

A small gasp escaped her when he brushed the lace down and kissed her hard nipple, taking it into his mouth and licking the sensitive tip. She felt the curve of his hook press against her hip, hitching up the silk as his hand slipped between her thighs. Strong, confident fingers pressed against the fabric of her panties and outer labia underneath. It ignited old desires, flickering life into fires she’d thought snuffed out.

His rough fingers traced the delicate lace, undulating with its curling, stylised waves. Her breath caught when they found the edge along the crease of her thigh. A mewl on her lips as he dipped them under the smooth fabric, fingertips grazing the warm, sensitive skin of her outer labia and sending sparkles of anticipation up her spine. The delicate fabric stretched with an alarming whimper from the seams as strong digits brushed between her folds, not quite able to reach. He grunted against her breast at the soaked pussy he found there.

She felt him slip the hook under the edge, warm from resting against her hip. The thought of him pulling her panties down with it lit up every nerve in the vague vicinity of her hips. Her eyes snapped open at the sharp jerk, the sudden cry of fabric tearing at the seam between silk and lace. 

Shivs made a noise, nose wrinkling. Those were the nicest-.

“I’ll get you new ones,” Crocodile promised against the curve of her breast, his gaze down as he hooked the fabric from her hips. The hunger in his pale eyes as he looked at her pussy made her spread her legs further. He leaned down to caress her labia and press a light kiss against them that made her throb, thinking about his tongue.

A breathy huff escaped Shivs when he slid his middle finger between her folds instead, running slow circles around her inner labia. Gathering the moisture there before teasing them apart and brushing across her clenching entrance. Pleasure sizzled up her spine when he pressed it inside, mapping her inner walls and finding all the right places far too easily. If he kept this up, she was going to come very soon.

He switched to her other breast, teasing the sensitive skin as he inserted a second finger. “I seem to remember you liked getting your little hole stretched,” he rumbled against her nipple, and spread his large fingers apart. She moaned at the strength in them, the ease with which they pried her open. It sent twinges of sweet, sweet pressure blazing through the haze of need fogging her thoughts.

She reached down to his hand, stroke the back of it. Found his thumb and guided it against her clit with a needy moan. Her thighs trembled as he massaged it firmly, pushed his fingers all the way in, then spread them as he pulled out. She felt his knuckles and the hard edges of his rings press into her labia when he pushed them back in but she didn’t mind, kind of liked it. She reached a hand for his shoulder, neck, grabbing hold of the tout muscle there as she arched her back towards him. His pace was torturously slow and she was loving it.

Shivs let out a drawn out whine when he stopped, pulled at his neck, wrist, knowing perfectly well neither will give an inch but trying, anyway. She tried to clench her thighs, rub them together, nurse the need smouldering in her veins, but his knees were between hers and she writhed in vain.

Crocodile shifted unto his elbow, bunching the silk further up her hips while taking his hard dick in hand. A hoarse whisper close to her ear as he guided the head against her slick pussy: “Won’t you beg for my cock, sweetheart?”

“I need to feel your cock in me,” Shivs said as she caught his hungry gaze. “Feel it fill me, stretch me.”

He grunted with barely contained need, she could see it in the straining of his back as she reached for his thick neck, folding her hands behind it. Felt it in the way his hips twitched as he pressed his shaft through her wet folds, coating it with her juices.

“Am I not a good girl, sir?”

“Yes, you are.”

Shivs moaned loudly when he entered her. Whined at the delicious pressure as he pushed deeper into her soaking wet pussy, stretching her around him. She clung to his neck, mewling with incoherent need. Her hand went to his hair, messing it up but not caring. Neither did he.

“Ah -ngh- fuck,” Crocodile grunted, his breath hot against her neck.

Shivs held onto him for dear life as she arched against his hard body, savoured the sharp pleasure of him stretching her cramping, soaking cunt wide enough to plough through. He’d not bottomed out yet. If she could take him, she’d have him wrapped around her finger.

“You’re. Fuck. As tight. As I remember. Sweetheart,” Crocodile groaned into her neck, his gravelly voice strained to the point of being near unintelligible. It was getting tougher and tougher to push further through her tight, contracting walls.

“Almost there,” Shivs whispered as she brushed a stray bang of dark hair from his eyes.

The noise he made in response was inhuman and she drank it in as she closed her eyes, spread her legs further to accommodate his hips and relaxed every muscle she could still feel. A whimper bubbled from her lips when he pushed up against something deep within her that twitched a pleasure so sharp up her spine it sat right next to pain. 

“Fuck, yes,” he ground out as his hips pressed flush against hers, his breath hot, heavy pants buffeting against the crook of her neck. “Feels. So good.”

He managed to push himself up onto his elbow, satisfaction animating his whole face as he looked at their joined hips, her soft labia squashed against his pubes. Shivs whimpered, his movement nudging tight bursts of pleasure deep within her. 

“I knew you could do it, doll.” His tone was thick with lust, laboured from his heavy breathing. He gently brushed a strand of sweat-slick red hair from her forehead with his hook, looking so proud. “You like getting your little cunt stuffed, don’t you?"

Shivs gave a sharp nod, struggling to form words.

“I know you do, honey,” he whispered as he rolled his hips against hers, not truly thrusting. She reached for his face with trembling hands, stroking his hard jaw. He grunted under his breath with each push and she pressed pecks against the puffs of hot breath until he responded. Until he chased her tongue back into her own mouth and pressed her head back into the pillow with the desperate force of his kiss, demanding entrance with his tongue that she was more than willing to give. 

“That's all you g-got?” she whispered through a moan and a bated breath when they broke their kiss for want of air. “I b-barely feel it.”

“Ah? You want more, doll?” Crocodile pulled out with a grunt, just a fraction, before shoving himself back inside her to the hilt, making her mewl with pleasure through clenched teeth as his cock bottomed out and up against her cervix. “Shall I take you back to my study? Pound you bend over my desk, like I used to?”

Shivs whined into his mouth as she latched onto him again, arms tightening around his thick neck as her cunt squeezed around his cock from the pleasure coiling around her spine. If he took her from behind, he could probably push deeper still. Oh, she’d be in trouble.

“Who’s cheap now, hrm?” A breathy hum into her ear as the obscene slap of his hips against hers filled his bedroom. She whined in need, the heady mix of mind numbing pleasure laced with an edge of pain making her tremble against him. “Do you want to be my little whore again? My pretty fuck slut to sit on my cock whenever and wherever I want?”

All she could do was whine and roll her hips to meet his steady thrusts. Fingers digging into the taut muscles across his shoulders, keeping him close as he fucked her deeper than she’d ever felt a man, even him. She whimpered, the heady mix of mind numbing pleasure laced with an edge of pain all but overwhelming her. Especially when he thrust just right, shoving his cock against a sensitive spot so deep inside her she didn’t even know she had it.

“I missed my. Pretty cocksleeve,” Crocodile grunted into her ear. “The. Only. Little slut that can take me -hng- properly.”

“Fuck me harder,” Shivs whispered, hands massaging his broad shoulders. He groaned with effort, she could feel the bridled strength in the muscles working under her palms. His pace picked up, and so did the strain in his body. Every thrust stretched her so deliciously, stimulating every needy nerve inside of her. 

“Do it,” she moaned wantonly as his thrusts started to push her up on the bed, her weight no match against his strength. “I c-can take it.”

“Ah - hng- you’re. Going to. Make me cum, doll,” he growled through clenched teeth. He grabbed her shoulder, holding her in place as he jerked his thrusts up against her. Her mind was unravelling. The only thing she could think about was his cock filling her, burning up every single nerve she had as needy pleasure coiled in her belly. She wanted him to cum. She really did.

When he paused, she struggled to comprehend why. Her gaze found his. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his mouth slack to accommodate the deep breaths heaving his chest. He was barely holding still, strain thrumming through every inch of his large frame above her.

“Does. My pretty little thing want. Cum as deep in her tight pussy. As her pretty throat?”

She whined, pulled at his neck with both hands. “Y-yes.”

“Beg. For it.”

“P-please,” she whimpered as she tried to make him move, weakly rolled her hips towards him. 

“Please what?”

“Please, s-sir.”

The noise he uttered in response to that settled somewhere at the primal base of her brain. She wanted, no, needed, to hear it again.

“Please, sir. Pound my needy hole like I deserve,” she mewled into his ear, savouring the way his breath hitched, that noise came again. 

“Damnit, doll,” Crocodile grunted through clenched teeth as he picked up a pace that became quickly rougher, slightly erratic. He locked his hold on her shoulder, broad fingers digging around her thin muscles and narrow bones, keeping her put as he pounded into her soaking, cramping cunt. “Gonna fuck you so full, you'll be leaking my cum well into tomorrow.”

“Please, please, pleaaasse,” she whined and clenched around him as he fucked her into the sinfully soft matrass with long, deep strokes that shoved his cock shamelessly up against her cervix to fit it all in. She wanted, needed, to cum around it, desperate for release. “Fuck me full of cum, sir. Stuff my tight cunny like you did my slutty mouth.”

“I -ngh- will, honey. I am,” he ground out, barely intelligible as his pace lost all semblance of rhythm and he bucked against her in the grip of his orgasm’s first throes.

“Oh! Yes, yes,” she moaned as he shoved his throbbing cock as far as she could take it, cumming against the deepest corner of her cunt as she shuddered around his cock with unfulfilled need. He stayed buried inside her as he came down, breath erratic before steadying, slowing. She whimpered in need, clenching around his softening cock. She hadn’t been able to cum around it like she wanted. It was too thick to cramp enough for a proper orgasm. She knew that, but had thought maybe this time…

He knew it, too. Remembered it.

“You’re still my pretty little thing, aren’t you?” he said as he caressed her cheek, ran his thumb across her parted lips. “Unable to cum around a cock like a big girl.”

She made a small noise that he swallowed in a kiss.

They stayed that way until her breathing steadied as well. Then he sat up and gathered her into his lap. She held onto him, her cheek against his collarbone. Not quite ready yet to let go.

“You look parched, doll,” Crocodile said as he brushed a bang from her eyes.

Shivs peered up at him. “I would not say ‘no’ to a sweet white.”

A noise escaped him that could have been a fond one as he lifted her off his lap and rose. The sound of his retreating footsteps filled the quiet. He’d gone to his study, judging by the distance. Shivs got up as well and shimmied the negligee down. Despite everything, she did not feel like taking it off. It felt nice against her flushed skin.

She sauntered to the curved window wall and found the view precisely as she remembered it. A sea of nightlights twinkled across the city below, mirroring the deep blue, star-speckled sky above. The moon hung low, waning from view. It wasn’t long before he returned. She heard him uncork a bottle behind her and fill two glasses. The snap and swoosh of his lighter. The familiar scent of his cigar preceding him as he came to stand beside her, still naked.

He held a glass out to her, a cigarillo clamped against its curve. The wine was a deep bronze instead of the pale yellow usual to white wines. She accepted the glass and smoke, gaze lingering on the narrow slot through its delicate stem. It allowed him to hold them with his hook without slipping. She glanced sideways and up at him. A fond smile twitched her lips when she noticed his hair was neater than before. He’d evidently taken a comb to it for a hot second.

Shivs put the cigarillo in her mouth and turned to find his lighter lying on the nightstand beside the wine bottle, and a corkscrew with its split cork still attached. She glanced at the label as she lit the cigarillo. It read ‘1811’ in large, proud capitals, and a name in a curving script she couldn’t be bothered to try and decipher. She would not be able to afford it, anyway.

Taking a sip, she returned to his side. The wine was sweet, indeed. With hints of lime, honey, saffron. She made herself comfortable against him, her bum resting on his thigh. “It’s a nice view,” she said as she blew out a thin pall of smoke.

He glanced down at her and their gazes crossed as he idly stroked her hip. “It is.”

Shivs leaned into his touch, sipping the wine. It really was, very good.

“Clever scheme you’ve gotten up to, in order to save the loser’s sorry hide,” Crocodile remarked as he blew a smoke ring against the narrow cloud she’d just produced. “But it has a flaw.”

Shivs let her weight shift from his thigh to his loin, only the soft silk between them. “You sure?”

A self-satisfied smile twitched behind his cigar as he gave her hip a squeeze. “None of this will work on Dracule.”

Only because I don’t have a penis, she thought, but no matter. They may have both grown older, but Croki was still fundamentally the same man she’d left years ago. And that would work for her, she was sure of it. Inevitably, Mihawk would pick on Bugs. She would take it upon herself to get irritatingly upset about it. Mihawk would no doubt insult her next, and Sir Self-Satisified here would take it personally by-proxy and shut him up. It’d be a win.

“I’ll think of something,” Shivs said as she blew a thin pall through his smoke ring, dispersing it.

He glanced at her, amused. “He’s partial to good wine, at least.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

She nipped her own wine, idly rubbing her thighs together. Pleasure skulked around the base of her spine, denied but not forgotten. She made a little noise against her glass when she felt his hand move up her thigh, his thumb brush under the edge of the negligee.

“Still needy?” he said as he bunched up the fine silk, rubbing his middle and ring finger against her clit in slow circles. It sent lazy sparks of pleasure straight to her brain. Drawing a shuddering whimper from her as he dipped his middle finger between her folds.

“Cum for me, honey,” Crocodile rumbled as he lightly ran the tip of his finger along the inner rim of her vagina, then teased the sensitive spot further down. Shivs gasped through her moan as the briefest shudder of an orgasm stole over her like a thief in the night. It was not enough, not nearly enough.

“N-need more,” she said as she put the glass down with a wobble. Reached for his large hand when he stopped, withdrew, tugging it back. Bunching two of his fingers together, of a mind to stick them into herself if he didn't.

“Come to our board meeting tomorrow. You’ll come sit with me and I’ll take good care of your needy little hole.” He shook her fussy touch and caught her pubes, massaging his palm firmly against her soft cunt, pressing her bum against his cock. “You can ride my palm like you used to, and I’ll make you cum on my fingers till your tight pussy is sore from cramping around them.”

Shivs wasn’t particularly keen on doing any of this semi-publically, least of all anywhere Bugs would be. Though she feared she wouldn’t be able to talk herself out of this, as easily as she’d talked herself into it.

“Don’t worry, doll. I’ll leave the pathetic clown alone,” Crocodile promised as he stroked her flat belly with the rounding of his hook. “Can’t beat the loser if my hand is occupied with something sweeter, hm?”

Shit. She had to tell Bugs. Forewarned, forearmed, and all that. She turned in his hold, his hand moving to her butt instead. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said, but he caught her wrist when she took a step back.

“Ah, ah,” he admonished as he stopped her, pulled her with him, back into bed. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

“I, what? Why?” 

Suddenly, she wanted to leave as he gathered her against him, nestling her into his lap and chest, spooning his large body around her like a cage. She wanted to leave, wanted to go to Buggy and cry when he guided his cock back inside her still moist pussy with an incriminating noise and a satisfied rumble. She’d meant to turn this trick and tell Buggy about it. Tell him her plan to manipulate the ex-warlord to leave him alone, to leave them alone. Tell him it had worked. 

Shivs pushed herself on her elbow but Crocodile pulled her back down to him.

“Stay,” he said as he hooked the fluffy underblanket and silk cover sheets about them, his arm around her waist, hand on her hip.

“Why.” She had to tell Buggy, but now she couldn’t. She’d left after they’d gone to bed. She hadn’t told him yet. He didn’t know. He’d wake up alone.

Crocodile stroked the midline of her belly with the tip of his hook, rippling the cream-coloured silk as it moved up her chest, counting to the fifth rib. The one behind which her heart sat.

“Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

A quiet sob escaped her.

"Ssh, sleep, honey," Crocodile whispered into her hair, fingertips stroking her hip. “I’ll take good care of you tomorrow.”

~

Honourary mention tags: @smut-goblin , @ruledbyproblematique , @gingernut1314 , @swirlsofblackandwhite

(N/A): To anyone reading & making it to the end. Writing this has consumed me the past days. I want to know what you think! What did you like? What made you laugh? Was there something specific you noticed? Something you now wonder about? I am 100% open to lengthy comments and blow by blows, ngl. I am obsessed with this.

If you want for more, I jotted down some of my own thoughts regarding this debacle. I may also be plotting another stint. Because Impel Down, do you understand me??

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡sketches 🎨

"painter, baby, you could be the muse"

gregory violet x reader | word count: 597 words

summary: gregory seems to have a new muse :) 🎨

warnings: none! just fluff <3

note: he's literally so cute, i love him pls- 💜 might be ooc, idk, i tried

you sat in the art room with gregory, lightly chatting with him as he sketched away. you kept trying to sneak glances at what he was working on, only to be stopped as he clutched the leather bound sketchbook to his chest, an almost unreadable expression on his face as he'd shake his head.

"come on, gregory! please let me see what you're drawing. pleaseeeeee?" you begged, your boyfriend rolling his eyes as he shook his head once again. "no, it's not done." he said the same thing the last time you asked and the time before that. you frowned, laying down and resting your head in his lap (you two were sitting on the floor).

you could see his concentration break a little as a tinge of pink dusted over his cheeks, his eyes glancing down at you for a split second before he went back to drawing. so you decided to patiently wait, rather than continuing to pester him about it. "gregory, would you ever draw me?" you asked, messing around with the rings on your fingers. gregory stopped mid pencil stroke and glanced down at you, your eyes meeting his. "depends..." he muttered, his two toned hair falling in his eyes a bit. "on what?" you asked, reaching your hand up to move the black and white wisps away from his violet eyes before letting it settle on his cheek.

gregory was obviously affected by your actions, his cheeks warm to the touch. gregory didn't answer and instead, placed his sketchbook down. he gently held your hand that rested on his cheek and kissed the inside of your palm, your heart skipping a beat. "you really want to see what i've been drawing?" he mumbled into your hand, your head nodding. he let go of your hand and picked up his sketchbook again, flipping to the page he'd been working on for what seemed like hours. "here..." you took it, your fingertips brushing against his for a moment. when you turned it right side up, you felt like your heart would burst. on the page was a drawing....of you.

you were smiling brightly, your eyes half closed as a result. he'd done an amazing job capturing the likeness of your face, it was as if you were looking at a photograph. "gregory....this is beautiful..." you muttered, still surprised by the drawing. "i was going to give it to you on your birthday, but since you were so eager to see it-" you mentally slapped yourself as he said that, realizing you'd ruined his surprise. "this was going to be my birthday gift? oh...i-i'm sorry i ruined the surprise...." you hung your head, feeling bad that your impatience got the best of you. you felt gregory place a hand on your shoulder, telling you to look up at him. and when you did, he cupped your cheek, just like you'd done to him. you knew he wasn't very keen on physical affection, but he was slowly getting used to it. "don't beat yourself up over it. i can always make you a new one." he reassured you, a small smile on his lips.

you wrapped your arms around him in a hug, catching him a bit off guard. but he still hugged you back, gently holding you as you two sat on the floor of the art room. "you're the best partner i could ever ask for~" you hummed and gregory felt his heart warm up. he really did love you a lot, more than he could say. "i'm glad my sketch made your day~" 🎨

© m00nkissedlover, 2024

[abarbaricyalp]

Hi! For the kinky/spicy prompts I'm gonna give a few options because that whole list is wonderful: SamBucky #34 or #57 (Thunderbolts era) or #59, pretty please!!!

Thank you so much for your patience with this prompt from literal weeks ago! When I say I started all of these... You have no idea how many drafts were born from this. Congrats to the winner, but I'm almost positive I will finish the other two major ones as well. I hope you enjoy this one!

#34 In the Kitchen // AO3 Link

Where Love and Feeling Good Don't Ever Cost A Thing

Sam had to take a second to wonder if he had actually sustained a concussion on the last mission and was hearing things now. It’d be a delayed response for sure. He’d been home for three days now and there’d been no other symptoms. Still, he was sure that the boys could not have possibly cried out what he thought they did as they untangled from the water-balloon filler and went racing across the backyard to the side gate. Because what they had shouted was:

“Uncle Bucky!”

Sam flipped a burger poorly in an attempt to look up faster than his muscles would actually allow. It sizzled in irritation and malformed into some kind of lopsided beef monstrosity, but he didn’t care. Because Bucky was coming through the gate with presents that he set aside as he squatted down and held his arms wide to catch two bear hugs at once, grinning wider than the whole state and laughing when he got taken off his feet.

For a second, Sam wondered again if this was a hallucination. Bucky was dressed like he had been for the very first cookout–dark glasses, dark pants, dark jacket. But, no. His hair was longer and AJ had already taken his glasses, so Sam could see the fading bruise that bracketed his left eye. And he’d foregone his stupid ice cream cake this time.

It had been months since they’d talked. An explosive argument about the Thunderbolts, the simmering, angry acknowledgement from them both that there were secrets they weren’t sharing, the clandestine order of operations they were working under, all added up to months of silence and a building resentment that Sam thought he’d carry with him for the rest of his life.

But now Bucky was back, holding both Wilson boys in each arm like they were still small, and Sam couldn’t find any of that resentment at all. In fact, he couldn’t find any of those hard feelings at all.

One of Sarah’s friends had come around behind Bucky to gather the gifts he no longer had hands to carry and Sam saw him turn to talk to her. Then he was looking right at Sam, easy grin falling into something so desperately soft that Sam had to look away.

Someone fussed at him in one of the more Spanish based Creole dialects, and Sam jumped a little, hastily removing burgers from the grill. He didn’t speak any of the Creole languages, most people didn’t, but they all knew the bad words and there were a couple in there.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized and passed off the slightly charred–but that’s what made them good–plate of burgers. Not the Blob Burger. That one, he tried to press down into shape again. It didn’t really work.

When he looked up again, Bucky was right beside him. There was about a half second between Sam recognizing his face and Bucky putting his hand on Sam’s waist to get his attention.

“Hey,” Bucky said, all soft and low. He’d lost his hangers-on and it was just them by the grill. Sam was actually surprised by that. The neutral, no-go zone for the water balloons was by the food. He figured more people would be around.

Sam pushed Bucky’s hand from his waist. “You should go talk to the boys. It’s their party,” he said tightly.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky breathed. Sam could hear the reluctance, sorrow, pain in his voice. His hand raised again but fell without Sam having to bat at it. “You’re seriously not even gonna look at me?” he asked. He tried to do that head tilt thing he did where he tried to put himself in Sam’s line of sight, but the grill was in the way.

“Why are you here?” Sam asked.

“You called. I came,” he said.

“I’ve been calling,” Sam snapped. “Why did you pick up this time and not before?” His eyes cut up to Bucky, which was a mistake because then he just crumbled away all over again.

“You know what the parameters of my deployment were,” Bucky said. “I didn’t get a chance to do anything until this time. I wanted to be here for their party. Cass is a teenager!”

Everyone had been playing up this party more than was necessary. Mostly to keep the boys from getting at each other’s throats about having to share a party. Partially because everyone was always looking for a reason to throw together a cookout or a potluck or a barbeque or a boil. Sam had texted Bucky about it without even really thinking. It had felt like back before the Flagsmashers, before Bucky and he had bought a house together, for those few weeks when they were still apart but sharing everything. The boys are having a birthday party. You should come.

He hadn’t even thought Bucky had his real phone.

Before Sam could wrangle any of those thoughts into a coherent sentence, Cass was next to them, yanking on Bucky’s arm and excitedly explaining the rules of the newest water slide game. Bucky shot Sam one more look, dug his heels into the soaking wet grass for just a second. But Sam just lifted his eyebrows and pointedly looked at the slip ‘n slide.

Bucky did a pretty good job not letting his sigh show as he let Cass pull him away. He was already shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it aside as he ask for a reiteration of the rules.

“I’m not gonna tell you not to be mad,” Sarah said from behind Sam, which really made him jump because there was not that much room between him and the house.

“Why would you do that while I’m working with an open flame?” he asked. He gestured to the grill with the spatula in his hand.

Sarah looked skeptical. “It is hardly an open flame.”

Sam grumbled and turned back around to arrange the next batch of hotdogs on the grill. “You’re really gonna defend him?” he asked.

“I literally just said the opposite. Go clean out your ears and wash off your attitude while you’re at it,” Sarah shot back. She leaned against the folding table next to him. It’s where the done food was supposed to go, but people kept coming up and taking trays of burgers and dogs directly from him before he could even set them down. “God knows Cash and I had more than a few stupid fights.”

“You’re taking his side,” Sam surmised. “You think I’m being stupid.”

“I didn’t say that. Takes two to have a stupid fight.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Sam argued back. Just to be irritating.

“You’re right. When you would get mad at me for ‘not being in your room’ when I stood in your doorway, you had sole rights to the stupid half of the fight.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Sam accused. “You were so annoying when you did that and you knew it! I reacted like any normal person would.”

Sarah didn’t try to hide her grin, except to look away from him. Sam assumed she’d found Bucky in the crowd again, based on the way her eyes tracked around the play area. “You should at least talk to him. Stupid fight, justified fight, hurt feelings, whatever. He came back for you.”

“You’re so on his side,” Sam groused.

“Telling you to talk to your partner is not choosing sides. It’s just being intelligent. I know I got the looks and the brains in this family, but you must’ve absorbed at least a few stray brain cells.”

Sam glared at her and then glared harder when she gestured for him to roll the hotdogs over. He did it, but not because she was right. 

“He’s home, Sam. Talk to him, if nothing else.”

Home. Sam would’ve scoffed at the idea, but watching Bucky show AJ how best to throw a water balloon from behind a tree only proved the point harder. And the way his eyes kept finding Sam any time he had two seconds to himself wasn’t helping matters any.

For the rest of the party, they didn’t get to see each other one-on-one. Sam had caught Bucky trying a few times, but for as often as Bucky got pulled aside to play a new game, Sam was getting pulled aside to settle neighborhood gossip or play a different game that was much better than the game everyone else was playing. Kids were weird.

It wasn’t until everyone had made their way out of Sam’s backyard and all of the blowaway trash had been gathered and the boys had made them promise they were coming to Sarah’s for the campout and s’mores and catching fireflies that Sam and Bucky finally were alone. True, it was Bucky’s house too, but Sam didn’t like how he just let himself inside. True, also, that Bucky had been in and out all afternoon anyway. But this was just them now and there was no real reason for Bucky to let himself inside before Sam. Except that he lived there.

Sam watched him veer directly into the kitchen and begin to wash all the dishes that had piled up throughout the afternoon. The draintray was already full and there were more spread out across kitchen towels on the counter. How had they made this much mess?

Without a word, Sam freed a towel and began to dry and put away the dishes. He wasn’t helping Bucky. He was saving his kitchen. In fact, he gave Bucky as much of a cold, silent shoulder as he could while they pantomimed domestic bliss.

The sun was setting as slow as a dog on a hot day. It bathed the kitchen in stark oranges, exactly the way they’d known it would the first time they saw the patio style doors to the backyard. Sam leaned against the counter around plate number 56 and just let himself bask in the warmth of the sunset.

Then there was an even warmer hand on his jaw and neck and a mouth on his. Bucky had never been able to resist Sam when he was pretty. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed as he shifted to kiss Sam’s cheekbone instead.

Sam indulged him for another two kisses–they were in quick succession, it didn’t count–and then pushed him back. Bucky hit the counter with the sink because they weren’t as far away as Sam had thought.

“You don’t get to come here and act like everything’s normal,” he said. “It’s not normal. You were gone.”

“It wasn’t like it was my decision,” Bucky answered. They were going to have this argument verbatim again and get nowhere.

“You chose to go.”

“There was no choice, Sam. This wasn’t a moral stance I could just take.” Bucky’s voice was hard as steel and twice as sharp. “You still have no idea what you’re talking about. Which is insane since you keep buddying up with the guy who engineered half of it.”

“Who the hell do you think I’m buddying up to?” Sam demanded.

“You think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been tailing Ross like a shadow? I had internet access.”

“You could’ve fooled me, since you never answered your damn phone.” Sam threw the towel down on the counter, which was less dramatic than he wanted it to be. “And I’m not buddying up to Ross, you asshole. He’s trying to put a leash around the shield and I’m trying to stop him.”

“Oh, you can tell when someone has a leash on you, but not when it's on me?”

Sam did walk into that one. He narrowed his eyes on Bucky. The man looked tired. He’d hidden it well at the party, but now the shadows beneath his eyes and the tint in his skin was so obvious to Sam, even with the sunset glow. It had been a long time since he’d seen Bucky look like that. It’s not like he’d been on a vacation for these last weeks.

“You think I wouldn’t have been here if I’d had any choice, Sam?” Bucky insisted.

“I think you have a self-flagellation issue that leads to you taking punishment you don’t deserve,” Sam corrected. “I think you invite pain and loss in whatever form it visits without fighting it. And I think you're not used enough to other people in your life who get caught in the explosion.”

“I think you have a self-flagellation issue that leads to you taking punishment you don’t deserve,” Sam corrected. “I think you invite pain and loss in whatever form it visits without fighting it. And I think you're not used enough to other people in your life who get caught in the explosion.”

Bucky’s jaw worked harshly as he stared at Sam. He had this habit of closing his expression off, face going as blank as a slate rock. But it had been a long time since he’d deployed it on Sam. Even now, it was absent as he steamed. 

“I’m loved for the first time in eighty years. You think I’d just walk away from that?” he asked finally, voice flat and hard.

Sam stopped. His whole body felt bow-string taut. A video paused in mid-motion. He knew Bucky was loved here, but he hadn’t considered that Bucky understood the depth of his belonging. He’d meant it when he said Bucky had an innate need to be held accountable over and over and over again for his past. It coupled well with the idea that he thought he was a burden here, on the Wilsons. But Sam didn’t actually know that Bucky felt like a burden. And if he didn’t, if he wasn’t excising himself because of some misplaced idea of making things easier for them, then what the hell had all of this been about?

“Then why did you go?” Sam asked. His voice had gotten quieter, but no less harsh.

“I can’t tell you that. Why won’t you trust me on this?”

Sam had spent months thinking it was Bucky who hadn’t trusted him. Hadn’t wanted to talk to Sam about his thought processes. Hadn’t even tried to listen to Sam’s arguments, his pleas, for Bucky to stay. He’d asked Bucky the exact same question before.

“Why can’t you tell me? We don’t keep things from each other.” It was only a half truth and the way that Bucky’s eyes flashes towards him told Sam Bucky knew it too. There were plenty they both did that they didn’t tell the other about. But not things like this. Things that separated them.

“Because it involves leverage you don’t need to know about,” Bucky answered. “I just need you to trust me. You’ve trusted me for more with less. Why are you fighting this?”

“Because nothing else ever took you from me!”

They stood facing each other, both breathing hard though they hadn’t gotten very loud or very fast in their argument. There wasn’t much room on this half of the kitchen and the mess of drying dishes and dishes waiting to be washed made it feel even smaller. The sun stretched between them, painting everything nostalgia-orange.

“I’m coming back,” Bucky said evenly. He sounded fucking exhausted and Sam hated it. “I’m keeping an eye on you, on home. Nothing is going to stop me from coming back.”

“You don’t know that. Anything could happen and I wouldn’t be there.”

“Nothing is going to happen,” Bucky insisted. “I wouldn’t let it. I’m hard to kill when I don’t care what happens to me. Having a family again makes me a lot more dedicated to staying alive.”

Sam thought Bucky stepped forward to kiss him, but when he put his hands on Bucky’s waist, the countertop was still behind him and Sam had stepped into the sunbeam.

Bucky’s hands came up to either side of Sam’s face and he smoothed out the desperate, choppy kiss. God, Bucky was a good kisser. Sam kind of hated it sometimes. Hated that he craved these moments. Hated that he couldn’t argue while Bucky’s tongue was in his mouth.

“Promise me you’re coming back,” Sam breathed into his mouth as one hand clutched at Bucky’s shirt over his chest and Bucky leaned into him, using all two extra inches to his full advantage.

“I’m right here,” Bucky insisted. Then, when Sam pinched him, he added, “I’m coming back.”

Read the rest on AO3

[ceasarslegion]

All the people clowning on that post are ridiculous.

You are not wrong. You are absolutely correct. Living with actual health hazards (there is rotting food on the floor and mildewing clothes) is very different than "I have a mountain of clean clothes that aren't put away cause my depression has been really bad the last few weeks so my room is messy or I can't sit on the left side of the couch". If you can go to work then you can take a day or a half-day off once a month and clean up after yourself for the betterment of yourself and your symptoms. Part of getting better and improving your situation and health (both physical and mental) is doing the work (which YES is hard) to actually care for your body and lived environment.

We talk about other people enabling us to continue bad habits and harmful behaviors but we don't talk enough about the things we do to ourselves. Which are just as if not MORE important. So thank you for saying that! It matters and people need to hear uncomfortable truths!

And anyone who read that post and took personal issue with it because they actually live like that and it made them immensely uncomfortable because of their own shame around it which you literally (and I can't stress this enough) have nothing to do with needs to reevaluate their situation and accept that they can't live without a caretaker because they're at a point in their life where they can't adequately meet their own basic needs. If someone can't legally do it to a child (providing only unclean clothing, biohazard-filled living space, spoiled food, unclean dishes to eat it with, etc.) without it being abused/neglect, then they are not meeting their own needs and I understand that it might hurt to hear that, but it's the truth and it's a disservice to everyone to not say it. If people aren't saying it, then no one knows where the line is that says "if you cross this you need help and you need it NOW".

So, thank you for making that post even though people are losing their minds over it. I'm sure it's hard to hear that you're not doing a good enough job, but sometimes that needs to be said and, yes, they might not be doing a good enough job BECAUSE of a disability or other issues but that changes literally nothing. It's still not good enough and it can be improved only by them intentionally trying to improve it. Dancing around stuff like this and trying to say nothing that will upset/bother/hurt anyone is genuinely a disservice.

10/10 post. Hope you're getting reasonable breaks from the ridiculousness that everyone is throwing at you ❤️ sorry everyone is taking it in SUCH bad faith

^^^ thank you for being the first person who knows how to read

It's. Frustrating. It's so frustrating how absolutely no one wants to take responsibility for themselves the moment it gets hard. The moment it gets uncomfortable they shut down and scream that you're being ableist for asking an adult to take responsibility for themselves even if they have a mental illness.

The thing is, life IS harder when you have a disability, mental or otherwise. But guess what? That is never going to change. The world will not stop for you just because it's unfair. There is no point in kicking your feet and pouting that it's unfair that you have to do more work than that neurotypical person to keep yourself clean and healthy because nobody did that TO you, it just is. And like, life is unfair to everybody. That is the one universal thing we all experience. Sorry I guess?

I also just like, can not stand how people flip their absolute shit the moment I stop talking to them like little kids. I didn't baby them or coo and go "uwu it's okay if you have mold in your house!" so they immediately took me saying "youre an adult, you need to act like one. Idgaf if you're depressed there are still responsibilities you have towards yourself now" as me denying their mental illness and on par with "have you tried not being sad?"

And like dude, if you can't even handle that from some guy online, I shudder to think of how developmentally behind they are from no ones fault but their own. They talk about mental illness like it makes them forever children unable to ever take any responsibility for themselves, and anyone who points out that no, you're still an adult whether you're sick or not and adulthood comes with certain responsibilities as an attack against them. So they attack back even though nobody swung at them, or even said anything they accused me of saying or implying.

And it's infuriating to those of us who actually made the effort. It's infuriating as someone who fought through all the bs that mental illness comes with in order to get better. It doesn't mean I don't struggle, or that I'm somehow cured, and I never once said that cleaning your room would cure your depression btw, but there is a fine line between struggling with your symptoms and letting them win.

And im so fucking sick of anti-recovery rhetoric. How often do you see someone get dog piled with "WHY ARE YOU CLASSIST YOU SHITTY WEALTH HOARDER YOU SAID THAT MEDICATION AND THERAPY HELPS BUT IM POOR YOU THINK IM A BAD PERSON FOR NOT BEING ABLE TO AFFORD IT"