#can you guess which couple is which on that banner?

[pearlymel]

"The Masks We Wear"

Summary: as a journalist, you are itching to find the identity of this mysterious hero. But could it be that the hero is closer to you than you think?

Wc: 7.3k eat up

Warnings: Wriothesley x afab!reader, gn! reader, modern au, hero and villian au (one of each), reader is a journalist/cameraman, fluff, making out, crack (i laughed a lot writing this), angst (oops), one small sex scene, slightly under the influence, cursing, it's pretty unrealistic, petnames used: sunshine, love, and sweetheart.

Notes: i poured my heart and soul into this, i think it's my best piece so far ^^ give it a chance, maybe you'll love it. (Pleasepleasepleaseplease) Rbs are greatly appreciated!

Credits: banner art by the great @/danijaci

Click!

The city is absolutely beautiful today. No, no. It’s not because of the lights that makes the place brighter and a bit more magical, how it seems livelier with a group of teenagers laughing together while buying street foods together, or the old couple that seem still very much in love, the gentleman kneeling down and tying her shoes just to make sure she wouldn’t trip this time.

Humans can be cute, you think.

But of course, among those innocent ‘humans’ are those who desire destruction.

This time, you think you might have caught something in the shadows, and you stare intently at your camera, zooming it in to see the faintest color blending in with the darkness. Hair? A part of clothes? You don’t know, but you got it.

you have this obsession of finding out who the hero of this city was, or even the villian. Although, you would be technically be walking into death if you try finding out who the villian is.

Where did this hero come from? No one knows. Sure the crime rate has lowered, but it felt like the world became even more messed up.

It all started a couple of years ago when you were in your college days, one day almost dying from a falling building, and you thought you saw the scythe waiting to take your soul at that very moment but, no.

The mysterious hero of the city that you never thought you would never encounter carried the building with his super strength power, apparently.

He who has no name, took your hand and lead you into a safer area with the police.

cliché story, right. But that’s what got you into journalism and media now.

And let’s say… you’re too far into the deep black hole to back down now.

The almost blinding light made you come back to your senses, the sounds of engine roaring in the air as the bike approached you, and your shoulders were already slumped.

“How did you find me?” You raise your voice due to the loud engine running, covering parts of your vision from the light.

“Lucky guess.” Wriothesley replied gruffly, pulling his helmet off and shaking his head slightly to fix up his messy strands.

“Care to explain what on earth are you doing here in this shady alleyway? At nine thirty where the moon is out and wolves could be coming for you?” He starts scolding you, quirking an eyebrow when you give him the bored expression, and he immediately mimics it back.

“Taking pictures.”

“Of the rats?”

“Wriothesley.” You shoot him a look and he raises his hands in the air. “I understand your… obsession. But it could hurt you in the process, mentally and physically.”

You know he’s saying all this because he cares so much about you. Loves you too much that it would break his soul piece by piece if one day what you’re doing will hurt you.

“Hop in, sweetheart.” He hands you the extra helmet, and you take it with a sigh. Securing it around your head before taking your place behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he revved the engine.

The whole ride back was silent, yet traffic, which entirely ruined the whole mood. With the constant car horns ringing in your ear.

You tap at his thigh to grab his attention, “Why’s it traffic?” You grumble, rising yourself from the seat to look at the row of cars trying to get through.

“Not any holidays or events i can think of,” he responds back to you.

Red mixed with orange fills your vision, suddenly the car at the very front explodes. The car parts flying in the air and landing at the other vehicles which makes you frozen in shock.

Wriothesley’s clenches his hands tightly as he turns the bike around, speeding his way far away from the scene. “Hold onto me tight, and don’t look back, you hear?” He yells enough to grab your attention, and your arms tightens around him, but you have your head turned around to see the people yelling and dashing out of the vehicles. You want to capture the moment with your phone so you could submit it in for the news, but you know more than to ignore Wriothesley right now.

It’s not rare to see destruction happen in your city, it’s just… terrifying every time anybody witnesses it.

Maybe it wasn’t an accident, maybe it was planned.

“You’re not allowed to go out after seven.” Wriothesley makes it clear to you with his firm tone as you both step inside your shared apartment, locking the apartment with a click. He then tosses his keys into a bowl on a small table, before turning to look at you.

“Are you seriously setting a curfew for me? Please. what happened was not new—”

Your face is now being cradled by his rough hands, but the way he swipes a thumb under your eyebags really makes you melt. And you forget what you were going to say when his lips curl the slightest.

“I don't want anything happening to you. Ever.” He takes you in his arms, holding you like you were the most precious thing he ever held. “I didn't mean to pressure you like that. I'd hate it if you were in the position of those injured people.”

You pat his back to reassure him that hopefully nothing like that will happen. “And, if, hypothetically, something like that happened; What would y—”

“I'll kill everyone.” he doesn't even let you continue before he answers, though the chuckle against your hair followed after makes your tense shoulders relax.

“maybe not to that extent,” he lifts your head up to lean in and press a tender kiss on your forehead.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“what is it?”

“… something or someone.”

Your boss gives you a nonchalant sharp look when you eagerly showed him the bits you managed to capture last night before you were interrupted by your great boyfriend.

His eyes squints at the more of a blurred photo that sits on the display of your camera, taking the glasses that hanged from his collar.

The sigh afterwards makes you feel discouraged when he hands you back your camera.

“i see it.” He starts and you perk up immediately.

“it looks like a blurred image of a fucking bird taking a shit on the electrical cords.” You press your lips into a thin line at his description. Too detailed of a description,

what a bastard.

It.. certainly didn't look like that.

You clear your throat, pinching the bridge of your nose to compose yourself.

“You're lucky i like your determination or you would've been fired,” he utters out in a lax tone, resting his glasses on his big bald head that you want to spill with ketchup.

“Keep looking, i need the hero's face, details, anything. Just think of the money you and i could both earn.” He seems too enthusiastic about it, showing you determination with his fists pressing together and his wide ear to ear smile.

You leave work early that day, starting your daily walk of looking around for at least two hours or—one hour?

No, Wriothesley would be too worried if you came back after… nine. Your words not his.

You need to rearrange a schedule in your head.

Step one: somehow convince your boss that you need to leave early everyday.

Step two: search every nook and cranny of the city, ask every shady person if they get to talk to the hero in person or got a glimpse of his name.

Step three: go to the dark web— is that car flying infront of you right now?!

Shit. Just why does everything have to go down wherever path you go?

The people around you panics, and you equally panic with them because you're no fucking hero to tell them to get away from that flying car.

You take your camera out hurriedly from its case that slung around your shoulder, pressing record while frantically looking around. The ground shakes, it shakes so much that it feels like an earthquake almost.

“it's him! The villian!” Someone shouts from the distance, and just like that the screams that follows are in sync.

You know why the ground shook, the street has become a battlefield for the hero and villain fighting together with all their strengths, the air is filled with tension as they both clash in an epic confrontation. The ground trembles beneath your feet again as they traded blows, sending shockwaves through the battlefield. The once tranquil street has now been transformed into a chaotic arena of power and destruction. As the battle rages on. The hero and villain continue their fight, each strike more powerful than the last, their movements a blur of speed and precision.

You try capturing anything with your camera, but your hand shakes that it was impossible. When the villian lands a powerful punch on the hero’s shoulder, sending him way back, it makes you think it's time to leave.

You run with the rest without stubbornness this time. You should've listened to Wriothesley, why did you always have to be so curious about everything?

This curiousity will kill you next after the cat.

“Taxi!” You shout, waving your hand at the yellow vehicle, but every taxi seems to ignore the people's pleas, determined to save themselves instead.

Guess it's time to burn calories and run back home.

You were a panting mess once you reached back to your comfort space, eyes zeroing at the running television in the living room. Watching the newscaster talk about today's battle and how it affected the shops and buildings.

It seems like the battle lasted twenty minutes before the villian gave up and fled away.

Your head snaps to the bathroom once you hear the sink water drip, you didn't even think if he would be here this early.

“Wriothesley,” you say breathlessly when you swing the door open, arms squeezing his side as you take a deep breath in.

“woah, easy there. What happened?” He takes you in, hand rubbing at your arm.

“i was…�� nevermind. Maybe you shouldn't tell him what you have witnessed, he'll know once he checks the news.

You only realise that he was chest bared at the moment, and you furrow your eyebrows once you see a bruise on his shoulder.

“What happened?” It was your turn to ask, talking a gentle finger and running it over the bruise, earning a hiss from him.

“was changing the car oil at the repair shop.” He mumbles, gaze turning to the mirror, “then accidentally hit my shoulder once i got up.” he turns his arm, swinging it slowly.

“but you don't work at a car repair shop?”

“it's a side hustle, sunshine.”

“why didn't you tell me?” You press on, and he hangs his head low, both of his hands gripping the sink bowl.

Okay, maybe you have annoyed him a little too much now. Upon sensing your incoming apology, Wriothesley smiles at you.

“don't worry your pretty little head too much. The bruise will fade.”

“i can massage you later?” You offer, and he lets out a breathy chuckle. “You're the best.” He gives you a chaste kiss on your lips on his way out, which makes you feel a little fuzzy.

The evening gave way to the night sky, and you found yourself lying on the bed, replaying the video captured on your camera. The footage was far from perfect, shaky and lacking in clarity, but it still managed to capture fragments of the intense confrontation between the hero and the villain. You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement as you watched the brief glimpses of the clash that had taken place earlier.

How the villian managed to blow a punch on the hero’s shoulder, sending him way back. Must've hurted.

It's almost like the same spot Wriothesley got his bruise on.

…

Wait, the same spot?  You sit up on the mattress, replaying the video on repeat of their fight.

The hero was about the same height as him, the same physique, same cake—

You shake your head, focus. Wriothesley can't be the hero, no that's impossible. He was a busy man, doing… side jobs and whatnot.

Sure he was kind, always helping everyone, even walking the neighbors dog because they got sick one day.

But then again… you never saw Wriothesley and the hero at the same time,

Or was it merely a coincidence, a random alignment of physical features?

“Sunshine?” You gasp when you snap your head up to find Wriothesley leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

“y-yes?” You set the camera aside on top of the drawer. He moves closer, seating himself on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixated on you then glancing at he camera.

“dinner's ready.”

You nod, silence fills the room after. You know he's waiting for you tell him more, on why you were so shocked.

“was looking at the hero's pictures.”

“not mine? I'm wounded.”

You roll your eyes, a slow smile creeping up your face, and he loves it. He takes it as an invitation to lean closer, suddenly pinning you down on the bed to capture your lips with his.

It's slow, and gentle. It makes you hum softly, taking his face in your hands to kiss him back, moving your lips together until you were gasping for air.

You forget you were even suspicious of him a second ago.

Your fingers lightly trace his jawline and you feel the pricks of his growing facial hair. A small smile plays on your lips as you inform him in a soft tone, "You need to shave." Wriothesley chuckles softly, the sound warm and low. He reaches up to your hand, gently taking hold of it and bringing it to his lips, pressing a kiss on your palm. "Is that why you stopped kissing me?" He says, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "No! I find you more.. attractive. Plus it.. yeah, it feels like little needles on my face.” you admit quietly.

Wriothesley presses his face into your neck, his lips tracing soft kisses along your skin. His hands begin roving your body, each touch sending a gentle shiver across your flesh. He whispers quietly next to your ear, his voice low and smooth as he responds, "I'll shave after dinner." The sensations of his lips against your neck and his hands exploring your body mix together, creating a heady combination that heightens your senses and ignites a slow fire within you.

“I'll.. help.” You whisper, bringing both of your arms to wrap them around his back. “What a sweetheart.” he uttered out, voice muffled from trying to mold into your skin.

Your mind stops working for a second when he presses his knee gently between your legs to pull them apart, “Wriothesley, what about dinner?” You frantically ask him, tugging his hair up so both of your gazes could meet. And the almost drunken expression he has on makes you let out a shaky breath.

“later,” he drawls, his fingers tracing lazily along your sides.

Hero? Pftt, what hero? This is just your wriothesley, it's quite impossible for him to be the hero.

You snap out of your daydream when your colleague hands you a cup of coffee, he raises an eyebrow at you and you smile back awkwardly.

A sip of the coffee to get a bit of energy, but only just a bit, since too much caffeine makes you nervous.

“You filmed the crazy battle yesterday?” Your colleague sneaks from behind you, watching the video replay again on your camera.

“they do movies about them now, insane huh?”

“well atleast the hero knows he's popular.” You reply bluntly, taking anothsr sip from your hot beverage.

“flash news, someone heard that his name starts with the letter ‘W’ or som—”

You spit out your coffee all over your white attire. You both exchange surprised looks, but you quickly wipe your mouth using the back of your hand.

“where exactly did you hear that?” You get straight to the point, gesturing them to sit next to you.

“from my father's friend’s cousin sister.”

His reply makes your eyes twitch, from who and who?

“Okay…” you whisper, turning around and thinking of the utter nonsense they spouted.

“you don't believe me.” he sighed, “I've been telling this to everyone in the building but no one is believing me! Just tryna’ do my job here.”

Let's say maybe you believe him. But the dots are connecting too fast that you want to refuse from believing it.

Was your target closer to you than you had expected?

“I'm clocking out, can you cover for me today?” You inform your colleague, and he crosses his arms while eyeing you up and down.

Your roll your eyes, “I'll be the cameraman for next week. So you could get three days off.” You force a smile and they smile back enthusiastically.

Wriothesley is definitely home. Earlier than the usual time he'd be back.

Oh, he's asleep on the couch. Leaning back tiredly with an almost stern expression on, but his body seems relaxed.

Now is the time to do anything. Investigate? Go through his things without his permission? That sounded all awful… surely he's not hiding any—

“go search his things.” You furrow your eyebrows when the devil on your left shoulder speaks, it makes you rub your face in annoyance.

Then a sudden white little angel poofs on your right shoulder with a disappointed face, “no, don't do it. He's a little scary when he gets mad. But he'd never betray you!” you feel reassured at it's words and you nod in agreement.

“don't listen to it. He could hurt you if you keep it a secret.” The red devil whispers again and it makes you shiver a bit.

“he would never hurt you.” The angel frowns.

“yes he would, he's a man.”

“a good man.”

“yeah? You're no better than me, you just want that—”

“okay shut up both of you. Shoo.” You brush both of your shoulders off before taking a deep breath to brace yourself.

You'll just search his.. clothes.

You feel guilty once you pocket his jackets and pants in his side of the wardrobe, checking every hidden pocket thoroughly while glancing at the door once in a while to make sure he doesn't wake up.

As your fingers brush against his jacket, you notice an unusual sensation – a cool, metal feeling hidden underneath the fabric. Your eyes widen in surprise as you recognize it to be the form of a gun's handle. A mixture of curiosity and concern floods through you, freezing you in place.

It really is a gun. You study it carefully, turning it around and feeling it's heaviness in your palm.

But you feel your heart run out of your ribcage when two pairs of arms wrap tightly around you, his chin resting on your shoulder.

Shit.

“hi,” he whispers next to your ear, but you're too nervous to even look back at him.

“nice thing you got there.” He muses, and you feel like you're losing oxygen once he tightens his grip around you even more.

“… i just found it.” You mutter, mostly to yourself. Your head hanging too low to avoid his eyes.

“Could've just asked me, no?” He clicks his tongue, almost in disappointment.

“i have it on me because—”

“because you use it for the good, right? Because you're the hero?” Your voice is shaky when you ask, the gun in your hand shaking with you, and you're afraid to drop it.

“hero?” Wriothesley repeats, shaking you gently awake and you gasp harshly, taking in big breaths, your boyfriend immediately trying to soothe you.

it was a dream.

“you were mumbling something about a hero in your sleep. Are you okay?” He asks in concern, brushing a strand off your face. You were sweating too much for your liking.

“when did i get here?” You look around, taking your palms to rub the sleepiness off. “Right when you got off work. You slept on the bed without changing your clothes.”

Oh… so you never checked his clothes. Deciding to just sleep instead.

Your head turns back to the wardrobe, staring at it intently. Could the jacket be in the same arrangement as you found it in your dream? Or will the gun also be there?

“you're going to poke a hole through it if you keep staring.” He stifles a laugh, and you couldn't help but try to smile as well. “Drink up. Slow sips.” He offers you a glass of water, and you hold the glass firmly in your hand.

“so… what was your dream about? Even this hero appears in your dreams? Can't say I'm not jealous.”

“You'll have grey hairs too early from overthinking.” You tease, sitting upright in bed, “oh no, you already do, old man.” you frown, tracing the grey strands along with his black hair. He watches in amusement.

Wriothesley lets out a deep sigh, “give your old man a break. They're a badge of wisdom and experience,” he rests his head on your lap, nuzzling close as you massage his scalp.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Breaking news: the ‘’lola” flower shop sets on fire just three hours ago. Our dear hero saves the day yet again, protecting the old lady just in time before her shop explodes. The cause of the fire is still unknown…”

Destruction out of nowhere again. Accidents out of nowhere again.

The voice of the newscaster on the television fades away in this little diner you're in. You drive your attention away from it, instead focusing now on the Polaroid pictures laid out infront of you.

The hero always wore a mask to cover his identity, obviously. But even after watching the countless of interviews he had, the deep tone slightly matches Wriothesley’s voice, or maybe he's changing his tone on purpose. You can see it by zooming in on the video, how he's catching his breath everytime he speaks when he's just sitting down.

Asthma? Nah.

You tap your fingers impatiently on the table, this is not helping at all, and the slightest itch in your brain worsens as the time goes by.

You think about giving up on this, but the possibility of finding the answer on how or why did all of this happen is probably closer to you than you think.

“Bad guys never end with their schemes. Bunch of attention seekers.” The hero speaks on the television, and you hum curiously as the hero salutes the camera playfully before disappearing from the crowd.

Is it possible that there are multiple heros? Working all together in some basement and taking turns to go out and do a better job than the police?

Possibly, and you write down your new theories down on your little notepad.

You check your phone next, Wriothesley still hasn't answered you back from your most recent text to him.

It's nothing to worry about, but the thought that he's busy saving the city is gnawing at you.

Batman?

You shake your head again, gathering your things to stand up from your seat. You should be blunt asking him about it tonight.

It's cold. Colder than usual. Was the air conditioning on? No. But the windows are sure wide open. You look around the living room before closing the windows and curtains from the outside world, as you draw the curtains, the outside world becomes obscured, leaving the room in a soft semi-darkness.

“Wriothesley, honey?” You call out softly, peeking through the bathroom, not there. The bedroom? Nope.

That leaves the kitchen, you slowly peek your head in he kitchen, and sure enough, he was there.

Wriothesley was rubbing his face in exhaustion while mumbling words under his breath that you can't quite hear. Having one singular glass of some drink in his hand.

“hero this.. hero that..” you finally listen to his mumbles, which makes you furrow your eyebrows together.

"Wrio...?" You call out softly, flipping the switch to turn on the light. His sharp eyes immediately dart up to look at you, and you can't help but shiver under his intense stare. You let out a small gasp of surprise as he suddenly stands up, the glass in his hand slipping from his grip and shattering on the ground along with its contents.

Taken aback by his sudden movement, you instinctively take a step back as he approaches you. But before you can even register what's happening, he crashes his lips against yours in a hasty, rushed kiss. Caught off guard, you cling tightly to him, desperately seeking support to prevent yourself from toppling over.

“You love me,” Wriothesley's voice breaks through the heated kiss, his words coming out in a low, guttural groan. He grips the back of your thighs, hoisting you up against the wall and wrapping your legs around his waist. “right?” His voice holds a hint of vulnerability and desperation, as if seeking reassurance and affirmation of your feelings for him.

And when you don't answer him right away, he takes your lower lip between his teeth, nipping at it gently, “answer me.” He almost growls.

“love, what are you taking about? Are you drunk?” You ask breathlessly in concern, your lips feeling swollen.

His jaw clenches, “Why can't you say it?” he inhales your perfume, your scent filling him that it makes him groan, his mouth lavishing your neck and collarbone, leaving kisses and littering marks then soothing the area with his tongue that it makes your pant softly, pressing your face into his hair while your fingers weaving through his black-greyish strands.

“i love you,” you utter quietly, and it suddenly makes him start grinding his hardened length against you. “I'm sorry in advance, sweetheart.”

One minute you're confused about his words, and then the next he's pounding so hard into you like there was no tomorrow.

Strings of “don't leave me,” and “i love you’s,” are echoed in the air. Wriothesley's mouth moves against yours with a sense of urgency and haste, his tongue gliding and tangling with yours in a fervent dance. The bed creaks so loud underneath you that you think it might break anytime, the embarrassment of the headboard banging against the wall immediately gone once he hits your sweet spot rapidly.

Poor neighbors

"Wrio... Wriothesley?” you slowly flutter your eyes open, still in the hazy realm between sleep and wakefulness. The sunlight streams through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room, and you blink a few times as you take in your surroundings. A quiet sense of contentment washes over you as you remember the events of the night before, the memories of Wriothesley's body against yours and his lips on yours still fresh in your mind.

You prop yourself up using your elbows, only to look down at the sight of your sleeping lover with his head pressed up on your chest. You collapse back on the bed with a tired sigh.

You still couldn't understand the reasoning behind his.. desperate actions last night. He seemed so pent up and stressed, you'll forgive him this time.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• It's the day where you're covering for your colleague, being the cameraman for tonight's news. Yes, tonight.

Wriothesley would kill you if he knew you were working so late at night, but only because he cares about your safety. Good thing he's out of the city for a day.

Or he claims to be out of the city for some important work.

You press the button on your video camera, adjusting the lens to focus on the newscaster standing in front of the camera, holding the microphone with a serious expression. The news van is parked in front of a desolate, run-down neighborhood known for its high crime rate and dangerous reputation. The newscaster speaks into the camera, her eyes boring into the lens as she reports on the neighborhood.

“We are now standing in the heart of one of the most dangerous areas in the city. This neighborhood is notorious for its high crime rate and volatile atmosphere.”

Your senses are heightened at this rate and you really try to focus but the moment you hear the faint crunch of leaves, you lose composure just a bit.

Okay you're a bit scared, but as long as your workmates are he—

a group of armed gang members suddenly appear from the alleyways between the buildings, surrounding the news van and the camera crew. The newscaster, taken off guard, gasps and steps back.

The gang members brandish their weapons, circling the news crew menacingly. One of them shouts at the newscaster, waving his gun in the air. “Hold it right there, pretty lady. This is our turf! You ain’t gonna be broadcasting nothing about us!”

You're about to shit your pants for real this time.

“Drop your cameras and get outta here, or things are gonna get real ugly real fast,” he growls, and one of them points the gun right on your camera.

“I'm talkin’ to you too.”

Yeah, you're not going to fight anyone and act all big. You simply drop the camera on the ground to raise your hands in the air.

As the gang members close in on the news crew, the atmosphere is suddenly shattered by the sound of footsteps pounding against the pavement. Everyone turns to see a tall, muscular figure approaching from the distance.

It's the hero.

You watch in awe as the hero strides towards the group of armed gang members, his movements fluid and precise. With a swift swing of his fist, he lands a powerful punch on the leader's face, sending him stumbling backwards. The other gang members are taken aback by his sudden appearance and the display of force, their eyes widening in surprise and fear. They exchange nervous looks, realizing they're facing a much stronger opponent than they anticipated.

“Hey, let's go!” Your workmate calls for your name. Her hand waving at you so you could all retreat back to the van.

And before you could follow, the van explodes.

The sudden explosion catches you off guard, jolting you out of your stupor. Shouting in surprise, you recoil from the loud blast, ducking instinctively as debris and fragments fly through the air. Your colleague, sitting next to you in the van, lets out a terrified yell as the force of the explosion propels the driver backward. The van shudders and lurches from the impact, the windows shattering and various objects sent flying.

“in the building! Let's go!” All three of you dash to protect yourselves inside this tall company building.

“I will call the police,”

“but the hero is here!” the driver of the van speaks, almost yelling in frustration.

“the hero is also a human. Just a strong one. We can't rely on him—” but before you could continue, you all cover your ears once you hear gunshots come from outside.

Ohmygosh. It’s—it could possibly be Wriothesley who's getting hurt right now. What are even the chances?!

“Fine! Just call the fucking police!” The driver gives up, leaning back against the wall while breathing heavily.

You want to go out there. You want to see. It's your chance to see who the hero is if he got hurt. Just to get the crumbs of news in exchange for your life apparently.

When it grows quiet, you peek outside, “it's clear, I'll take a look—”

“No, you're not.” her hand is firm as she grips your wrist, “just let them go.” He, on the other hand, scowls.

“Be safe!” She shouts at you as you make a run for it, running down the alleyway while looking left and right.

Someone's in the area.

You dart behind the nearby dumpster, heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline courses through your veins. Hiding as best you can, you press yourself against the rough metal, trying to keep your breathing steady and quiet. Peeking out from behind the dumpster, you cautiously scan the surroundings, trying to catch a glimpse of someone nearby. For now, the area seems to be clear, but you can't shake the feeling that someone is in the vicinity, lurking in the shadows.

“Where ya at, lil’ birdie?” You cover your mouth when you hear someone speak, it sends a chill down your spine and you can feel your heart drumming in your ears.

Your sharp eyes turn to your side to find a metal rod, you don't hesitate to grab it before smacking the shit out of the guy.

No that did not happen, but you wish it did.

Instead, the minute you see his feet pass the dumpster, with a swift movement, you grab hold of both of his ankles, using your weight and leverage to pull them out from under him. He lets out a pained shriek as he suddenly loses his balance and topples to the ground, his body hitting the pavement with a thud.

Alright, you can be cool sometimes.

Stepping at his hands to hear him cry again, you run put of the place, making turns and finally spotting the hero sitting down against the building wall while panting, seemingly exhausted.

“…” you take slow steps once you approach him, looking down at him with your eyes already glistening.

This is it, you just have to confirm it.

Your hand pulls at his mask, “Wrio—”

Huh?

This…

Is not

Wriothesley.

“Ah, what the fuck?” He grunts, the blonde grabbing the mask from your hands and you take a step back.

“Elias?!” You yell out in confusion, it's your colleague that you're covering for supposedly today's shoot.

“You're the hero??”

“not a word. Scram, you freak.” he mutters, eyes diverting away from you and staring up at the roof. “The roof,” he whispers to himself, making the effort to stand back at his knees.

Is this bitch serious? He's the last person you expected to be the hero. With his stupidly arrogant and lax attitude.

You give him an almost death stare, studying his features again before making your way out.

You need to check the other people that were with you.

But when you arrive back at the building, they were gone.

Did the police arrive? You don't hear any sirens. Could they have possibly went up on one of the floors to hide?

You find yourself in the elevator next, watching as the doors close with your hands clasped infront of you nervously.

You take deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart and steady your nerves. Hey, at least there's nice elevator music.

As the elevator comes to a halt, the doors slide open with a soft ding, revealing the rooftop and the figure standing in the open space.

There's a figure standing at the edge of the building, you can see the person's silhouette clearly now, but you can't make out their features just yet.

Your steps are hesitant as you slowly approach the figure, the wind gently billowing around you. The city lights twinkle below, but your attention is entirely focused on the person standing at the edge of the roof. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever may come, and call out tentatively, "Hello?”

Your voice rings in the air, that the person's shoulders tense.

When they look around, you're met by the same blue eyes you've known for three years now.

“Wriothesley.” You whisper, in shock, breathlessly under your breath.

He's holding.. a gun? The same gun you remember seeing in your dream.

Something in his mind snaps when you turn around, in fear. Like it was a mistake to ever see him in the first place.

Wriothesley doesn’t even give himself time to think before his body suddenly reacts, suddenly reaching out and circling his hand around your wrist to forcibly tug you back.

He yanks hard enough that you lose your balance and fall against him, his other arm coming up to wrap around your shoulders, preventing you from going anywhere.

“W-wrio—”

“think it's time we talk, sunshine.” He speak into your ear.

When you try to move the slightest from his hold, he grips you around him tighter. You figure it's best to stay still for now.

“what? Are you going to kidnap me now?” You manage to chuckle out, nervously though, your voice coming out more shaky than you intended to.

“Is that going to satisfy your little fantasy? What, I should play into it and shove you into a corner, keep you under my thumb until you’re begging me to set you free? Or no… you want to be saved by the hero.”

"You know you're not helping with your case, right? You really sound like the bad guy now.”

You’ve definitely found his breaking point because that comment makes him snap.

Wriothesley suddenly whirls you around so you’re facing him before he’s pinning you against the nearest wall, his body practically covering your own.

“Well…” He whisper, raising an eyebrow calmly in the way you look being at his mercy. “Aren’t I?”

Your jaw practically hangs at his words. Is he... Playing the bad guy now?

Or was he really… not the opposite of the hero?

He sees the shiver you try so hard to suppress and smirks at that, clearly satisfied with your reaction, “What’s wrong, sunshine? Finally realize that the man you’ve been dating isn’t the hero you've obsessing over?” He chuckles.

“i… i knew it—”

“You didn’t,” he says, his tone suddenly becoming cool and firm.

Wriothesley leans forward, pressing into you so that you’re smashed between him and the wall. His hand suddenly comes up, cupping your jaw so that he tilts your chin up to look directly into his eyes.

“If you’d known, you’d never have come within twenty feet of me. You’d never have been alone with me or spent a single night in our bed.”

He's right. And you hate it. You feel betrayed, lied to, even.

It makes you rethink your life choices.

You've gotten too comfortable with him that you didn't even think about him being the villian. You've gotten too close while you were being a complete idiot.

“you hid it.”

Wriothesley laughs, the sound almost sounding cold, “of course I hid it, sunshine. I wasn’t going to just come strutting in wearing a big, red sign saying ‘look at me, I’m a bad guy!’ was I?”

You clench your fists together, “you tricked me.”

“Tricked? No.” He shakes his head slightly. “I simply… left out key details.”

“Why?”

“ah, there it is.” He steps back, giving you space to breath, to recollect your thoughts.

“why? Because the hero isn't a hero. He started all of this destruction. Why? To get fame, recognition, power, and to be seen, to look like he's doing something when he's not.” He lets out all in one breath, and you lips part again.

“four years ago when the building almost fell on you? He did that, on purpose. then saved you to make it look like he's the one that everyone needs.”

What the hell?

“Wriothesley, we were strangers to each other four years ago. How did you know?” You don't hesitate to step closer to get more answers out of him, but he only stares at you.

You swallow thickly when he draws infront of you once again, “i did this all for you, love. I-i will do everything in my power to stop him, i will kill him so you wouldn't get hurt—”

“Okay, fucker. Out of my way,” Elias, the ’hero’, suddenly barks, and without warning, a gunshot rings out. The bullet pierces through Wriothesley's shoulder, causing him to flinch and stagger backwards.

Your eyes widen in horror as you watch the scene unfold. "Wriothesley!" you cry out, watching as he turns around despite the injury and charges towards Elias.

Despite the pain he must be in, Wriothesley doesn't relent. Ignoring the gunshot wound, he barrels towards Elias with unmatched determination, closing the distance between them.

"Bastard," Wriothesley manages to grit out as he collides with Elias, knocking him off his feet and sending them both crashing to the ground.

You don't hesitate to rush forward, with adrenaline fueling your actions, you move quickly towards them as they roll dangerously close to the edge of the roof.

"Stop!" you shout, your voice filled with desperation. "You'll fall!”

And surely enough, Your two hand clamps down on Wriothesley's, desperately grasping onto anything you can to prevent him from plunging off the edge.

Meanwhile, Elias grips Wriothesley's leg, using his strength to anchor him in place. The three of you hang there, suspended over the city, Wriothesley's body along with Elias’s dangling in the air.

“Sweetheart—”

“shut the fuck up I'm not letting go.” They're both too heavy, the feel of his fingers slipping away from yours increases everytime you try to pull them up.

Elias is purposely pulling Wriothesley's leg down to drop them both, your lips quiver, crying when two of his fingers slip now.

“hey,” his voice is soothing when he calls for you.

“at least… i protected you till the very end, right?” He tries smiling but it only makes the lump in your throat grow.

“i love you.”

“Wriothesley!”

…

“Wriothesley—!” You gasp harshly when you open your eyes so wide, finding that your hand was already reaching out for nothing.

You rest your hand on your chest before leaning back on your seat.

“are you okay?” The newscaster, the friend you made, offers you her handkerchief so you could swipe the sweat off your face.

“i think… continuesly searching about this, is making you stressed.” She points out, looking at the papers and drawings splayed out on your desk.

More theories of the disappearances of the hero and villian. Not their death. Their bodies were never found.

“it's been a year.”

The realization is like a punch to the gut as you bring a sweaty palm to rub at your temples.

“This is not over.” You whisper, more to yourself than to her. “We got no more trouble. No more heroic or bad guy news. The world is back to normal, almost like they never existed huh?”

Never existed.

She then suddenly gasps, which catches you off gaurd, “are engaged??” She eyes at the gem resting on your left ring finger.

The ring you found in one of his jacket pockets when you sorted his things out.

“yeah…” you decide to drawl out before sitting upright on your seat.

“now, if you'll excuse me, i got work to do.”

You're never going to stop searching, to find another answer of the question; 'why?'

Even if it will mean risking your life this time.

[syoddeye]

down the hatch / badgering

141 x f!reader | ~1.9k | series page tags: p in v sex, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, bad jokes, manipulation, spanking, manhandling a/n: you know that tunnel scene in willy wonka and the chocolate factory? that's how it feels when i write this. a hoot and a half. banner by @/cafekitsune.

it’s an adjustment. living with roommates again. roommates who refuse to leave, thanks to all the death and destruction outside. convenient excuse, really.

no more naked mornings. you could go tits out—they fucking do—but you’re not entirely without reason. as salivating as they are, the hunks are your enemies.

even if they’ve showered, trimmed, and got some of the bloodstains out of their clothes. 

even if soap makes canned meat and powdered eggs palatable, whipping up a spam and rice bowl for you without asking.

even if gaz finds a five-hundred-piece puzzle on a scavenging trip and bites his tongue when you bat his hand away when he tries to help sort the pieces.

even if ghost slips a game of hangman under your door at lights out, and lets you guess a couple of letters each night. (first word? ‘wanker’. second? ‘larynx.’)

even if john—well, wait, no. the asshole hasn’t made a peace offering. probably because he knows you won’t honor them or because he’s sore about the whole ‘no cool nickname’ thing. whatever.

at night, alone in your room, you plot. how does one evict four man-roaches? make living with you worse than living outside.

in a weird way, your austrian neighbor and his aspirations for a fucking von trapp family: the squeakuel comes in handy. he hoarded all types of junk.

soap’s your guinea pig. he’s moody. something’s always itching under his skin. he snaps at the other men too easily and watches you like a dog admiring meat hanging off a bone. opportunity arrives one morning when john and gaz head topside and ghost settles in the living room. you corner the scotsman in the bunker’s tiny gym.

you linger in the doorway, fixated on the dark shapes under soap’s armpits. his mohawk sags, beads of sweat streaking over the freshly shorn hair. down his flexing muscles. and the grunting, christ. it’s a peek into heaven, which makes ruining it difficult.

without a word, you plop onto the other bench and take up the clarinet you found in your room. channeling the gusto of gus polinski, you wet your lips. how hard can it be? you don’t know polka, but you know rossini.

soap’s head snaps at the opening notes, nearly fumbling a pair of dumbbells, his face a flurry of anger, amusement, and annoyance. it’s a valiant effort, his ignoring you, but in the end, you only make it halfway through your best attempt at the william tell overture before he cracks. he rips the instrument from your hands and tosses it aside. he stands over you, smelly and slick, breathing heavily through his nose. 

you end up dragging him to your room.

soap is the definition of a romp in the sheets. a no-holds-barred deathmatch. it’s the first dick you’ve caught in months, and what a reintroduction. a miracle the bed survives. he starts with his mouth sealed to your clit, tongue working like it’s making up for lost time, as if your cunt and his face go way back. it’s refreshing, but you saw how fast he dropped to his knees for gaz.

two orgasms slip out by the time he wrenches off his damp clothes, chin glistening and eyes glittering. he goes cross-eyed the second his dick slaps against your folds, and you laugh at his desperate groaning when he sinks in. though, your laughs are choked off by his sudden, furious thumbing of your clit. (you punch him in the stomach—ignoring the filthy moan that elicits—and hiss out, “a genie isn’t gonna come out, stop fucking rubbing so hard!”) he ends up coming on your stomach and contorts to lick it off, muttering little gratitudes into your skin. it’s…cute. kind of gross, but cute. you kick him out after a power nap.

soap’s a wash. ba-dum tish. try, try again.

you set your sights on gaz. he’s tricky.

it quickly becomes apparent he’s the best at scavenging. smug about it, too, which you leverage. his ego’s easy enough to feed despite his unease. all it takes is batting your lashes and complimenting his hauls.

amazing. this must be the last jar of berbere ever.

pads? for me? so considerate, i’m stunned.

a mostly intact game of monopoly? wow, here, i thought we were done with landlords and taxes.

it’s simple. you begin with small requests. toothpicks. socks. lip balm. when he returns, he drops the goods in your lap like a cat with a mouse. stares at you with those pretty eyes while you lay it on thick. 

you escalate. either he’ll die on your absurd fetch quests or go crazy trying to fulfill them. brand new period panties. a specific type of hair dye. unopened baby lotion. naturally, he can’t find any of them. he still delivers approximations—granny pants, food coloring, and half a bottle of moisturizer—with a hopeful smile you crush under feigned hums of disappointment. ah, well, if this is the best you can do. it chips away at him. his smiles tighten.

you figure he’ll make a dumb mistake on his next outing out of some fucked desperation, and you’ll be down a roach. but after you tell him to keep an unopened pack of nail varnish because they aren’t your colors, he loses it. this time, you’re dragged to bed.

gaz pins you to the mattress, one hand on your throat and the other shoved into your leggings. pupils blown to the point where they’re shark-like. you’d spare a thought for all the poor creatures dead in aquarium tanks across the globe if he wasn’t hellbent on shoving a third finger in.

“so bloody irritating,” gaz seethes. “spoiled and greedy. have you always been a brat, or am i special?”

you spend your ration of oxygen wisely. “i think you think you’re special.”

for that, your knees meet your chest, and your pussy nearly chokes his dick. or so he tells you, pure filth spewing from his mouth. you giggle madly through the slight pinch of pain, mirroring the feral grin on his face. he’s big, and you could be wetter, but you’re not on your back for good behavior. he’s happy to tell you about that, too. how awful you are.

disappointingly, it doesn’t take long for him to lose his grasp on language. a shame, given his shit talk. 

he bats your hand away from your clit when you try to coax your orgasm along. clicks his tongue, eyes half-mast, and smirks. “gonna be good? gonna thank me?” 

in another world, you’d nod. whatever you say, beautiful. in this world, however, you flip the bird, and he flips you.

gaz pants like a bull, pulling you back onto his cock with an iron grip on your hips. his hand comes down across your ass, but there’s this je ne sais quoi missing. it’s the thought that counts, you guess.

after he makes a mess, you fully expect gaz to continue his tirade. instead, he finds a towel. he rolls you over and tucks you in. thanks you. it’s a shame memoirs are meaningless now as the perfect title comes to mind: ‘bunker bumping: backshots in the apocalypse’.

okay. zero for two. historically, settling for 50% isn’t unlike you. 

back at the drawing board, you reevaluate. annoying the men to death hasn’t worked, and they’re exceptionally durable in dogshit conditions. each day, they get closer to rigging the equipment necessary to contact their ‘friends’, seemingly unperturbed by your efforts. in fact, they seem more comfortable. at home. they poke around the utility room to assess what needs maintenance or improvement. the nerve.

it’s untenable. no matter what that dumb voice in your head insists, you miss solitude. miss not having an audience. you want to watch leon and the silence of the lambs without commentary. dance naked. leave the toilet door open. 

you withdraw.

the bedroom becomes your bunker within the bunker. you take meals alone. painstakingly move your puzzles and hoard books. shower at night after they go to bed. ignore them in the halls. keep your mouth shut when someone addresses you. it’s a fruitless endeavor, keeping your head in the sand, but a part of you hopes if you become as unobtrusive as possible, they’ll forget you exist. after all, they have each other. they put those squeaky single beds through the wringer.

problem is, you don’t account for scragglebeard himself. nosy fucker. 

it happens on shower night. towel-clad and testy, you trudge from the bathrooms and find your door open. you freeze in the hall, hearing clinking sounds and lowered voices. gaz and soap emerge, ferrying dishes and dirty clothes, not sparing so much as a glance. your stomach twists, immediately jumping to the worst-case scenario. they’re reclaiming the space, and they’re finally going to kill you.

unfortunately, it’s not so simple.

“whatever this is,” john sternly says the second you enter the room, “we’re going to fix it.”

ghost traipses past, arms full of unopened cans and more dishware. you glare at his back, then turn to john.

“get the fuck out.”

he chuckles. “sweetheart, what’s not clickin’? this isn’t just your shelter anymore.”

“got it,” ghost reenters, a roll of duct tape held aloft. 

well. you had a nice run. sure, the calamity was a setback, but considering you probably lasted longer than everyone you ever hated, present company aside, that’s a tick in the win column. 

however, ghost doesn’t bind your limbs or cover your mouth. he crouches at the ventilation shaft connecting our rooms, rips off several pieces of tape, and covers most of the grid. “you fuckin’ talk in your sleep.” he points at the small hole he left uncovered and stands. “my bed’s right through ‘ere. it’s fuckin’ unsettlin’.” grumbling, he shuffles out once more.

john’s not shy about scanning you from top to bottom, but apparently, he doesn’t like what he sees. he turns away. “what are we missing?”

you pick through what’s left of your clean clothes. “loaded question.” poking your head through a shirt, you shimmy the towel to your hips.

“where else would you find a clarinet?”

“up your–” he glares over his shoulder, and you smile sweetly. “there’s a small storage space in the closet here. it’s empty now.”

“we found the surveillance room and utilities. it stands to reason that there are others.” john scratches his chin, watching you like a hawk as you pull on shorts. 

“oh. you think?”

“i do.”

“well, think outside of my room. i’m going to bed.” you move to the bed and listen to john close the distance. he hovers, his breath hitting your neck in an exasperated huff. it sends a shiver down your spine. you bet he’s got what gaz was missing—experience behind the swing of his palm.

“like it or not, sweetheart, we’re sticking around. now, i’d prefer it if we kept things civil. based on what the boys told me, i know you’re capable of being friendly.”

it’s not the smartest decision in the world, wheeling on a man trained to kill. he catches your wrist as it winds up and twists it sharply behind your back. with one solid push, you get a mouthful of linen as your body promptly hinges at the waist. an angry string of obscenities gets lost in the sheets. you’ve never been so humiliated. or breathtakingly aroused.

john tuts.

“bad call, badger.”

[bbydeathclaw]

Petulance

pairing: silco x fem!reader (nsfw)

AO3

summary: Silco sends you away to try to get some work done and you decide to be a horrendous little shit about it.

tags: fluff, smut, established relationship, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), good ol' mating press, teasing, bratty reader, simp silco

word count: 5.4k

adorably aesthetic mdni banner by @cafekitsune

a/n: hello! this is my first time writing in a looong while almost 10 years to be exact please don't look at me. but I had to get back into it with this shamelessly self indulgent fic of my favorite brooding king pin. I hope you enjoy!

Silco had thought it a bit odd at first, the ease with which you’d taken your leave from his office tonight. Ordinarily when he’d attempt to send you away in favor of getting his paperwork done in a more timely manner, you’d put up some form of sulky little protest.

An overemphasized pout coupled with a look of feigned sadness, eyebrows furrowed together when you’d offer to assist him with said work. Your reason being that it would ‘probably get done faster’ between the two of you. 

A lie, and a blatant one at that. You were, on all counts, absolutely shit at keeping your focus on any tasks he’d try to give you. You knew it. He most certainly knew it. Truly he’d wonder why you’d even bother offering at all if you just spent most of the time trying to distract him anyway. 

Still, he can’t say he isn’t amused by your actions. He finds these juvenile acts of yours terribly endearing for the most part, and even starts to look forward to them, knowing full well that he'll give in to just about anything if you’d simply ask it of him. 

Which is why he can’t help but feel somewhat disappointed when you don’t do any of this at all, and Silco starts to regret his idiotic suggestion entirely until you throw a cheeky smirk his way instead. 

“Alright, I think I’ll go bug Sevika for a bit.”

A single eyebrow quirk, followed by a low hum of approval. 

“I’m sure she’ll be positively thrilled by that,” he replies, suppressing a smirk of his own at the thought of his second in command being pestered by someone almost half her size. 

He’s still disheartened by your willingness to leave, but ultimately makes peace with it knowing that you’d more than likely return at some point. You give him a small wave with your fingers followed by a wink over your shoulder, and Silco doesn't hesitate to drag his gaze over your body shamelessly as it saunters out of his office.

About an hour passes, and the music coming from downstairs is just starting to pick up for the evening. You enter the room with a fluid sidestep, leaning back against the door once it closes behind you. His good brow raises slightly. “Back so soon?”

You don’t answer at first, instead making your way over to one of the tables in his office, like a cat quietly stalking about until something catches its interest. He watches you methodically as you settle for one of Jinx’s old trinkets that had been long discarded, carefully turning it over in your hand. “Sevika called me a menace.”

This time he makes no attempt to hide the subtle upturn from the corner of his lips. “I’m afraid I’m inclined to agree with her, my dear.”

“She seems pretty cranky tonight.” 

“Hm, surely through absolutely no fault of your own.”

You bite the inside of your cheek in what he can only assume is an attempt to stifle a giggle before turning to face him with an adorably giddy expression that makes his chest tighten. 

“Whatcha doin’?” 

So innocent, as if you were completely unaware of the effect you had on him. Silco doesn’t answer you verbally, merely bringing his forehead to rest against his hand and lifting the piece of paper he’s holding in the air with the other. The sullen face you make doesn’t go unnoticed by him as you turn to put the gadget back down with an airy sigh.

“Well,” you drag the word out. “I guess I’d better let you get back to it.”  

“Yes, that would be nice,” he says in turn, though it comes off more teasing rather than the displeasure he’s trying to convey. 

You study his face for another beat or two before you finally respond. “Okay, if that’s really what you want.” It’s not. Not even in the slightest. “I’ll go see if Thieram needs any help at the bar.”

“My love, Theiram is more than capable of handling his responsibilities as a bartender alone. It’s why I hired him, in fact.” He pauses. “Have you perhaps considered staying up here and behaving yourself, rather than looking for more ways to wreak havoc amongst my employees?” 

For a moment Silco thinks that he may be tipping his hand too soon, fearing that you’ve caught on to the fact that he’s basically been doing fuck all except sitting here and waiting for you to come back to his office. His suspicion only rises with the way you’re tilting your head and downright beaming at him with ill-disguised glee, like you’d been reading his every thought. 

“If I stayed up here it certainly wouldn’t be to behave myself.”

The paper he’s holding makes an audible crunch sound, his hand crumpling the edge of it faintly in response to your suggestive remark. 

Before he has the chance to reply with some snarky comment, you’re already heading towards the door, making a show of swaying your hips and giving him another view of the delicious swell of your backside before you take your leave again. His chair makes an audible groan as he leans back against it and lets out a lengthy sigh, running a hand through his hair and glancing down into his lap at the result of your seemingly endless torment.

Intolerable minx.

By the third time you make your way back up, only about half an hour has passed, and Silco’s all but given up on the prospects of getting any semblance of work done tonight. His thoughts being entirely permeated by you and the state you’d left him in. 

The Last Drop is in full swing now, and the liveliness of everything going on downstairs comes through the open door as you re-enter his office. However this time, he makes no effort to acknowledge your arrival, his chair now facing away from his desk, turned instead towards the large stained glass window that bathes him in a sickly, pale green light. All the noise from the club gets muffled when the door shuts once again, followed by the sound of purposeful footsteps making their way over to him.

“Welcome back,” he states flatly, trying to sound as disinterested as he can manage in his current predicament while he looks over his clipboard in a vain attempt at trying to salvage what was supposed to be a productive evening.

“Hello there, almighty Eye of Zaun,” you chime back with a playful lilt in your voice. “Did you miss me?”

Silco’s eyes tick upwards and stare blankly at the window straight ahead, actively suppressing the urge to let out another heavy sigh. You were going to be the death of him at this rate, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind. How you managed to be both so insufferable and still so unbelievably charming he’ll never quite understand. Before he has the chance to turn his chair with an already fixed scowl, he hears a faint thud behind him, the distinct sound of glass meeting wood only slightly muted by a soft shuffling of papers. 

A few seconds pass before Silco finally spins around to face you, seeing that a tumbler has been set down right on top of the paperwork he had been ruminating over all night. He’s also greeted by the sight of you already sitting in a chair directly in front of his desk, grinning from ear to ear. His heart swells at the sight and his scowl gradually melts away, only to be replaced by something more along the lines of skepticism when he takes in your expression fully. 

Your smile is accompanied by what appears to be a look of pure satisfaction, though he has no clue as to why. His non-discolored eye narrows at you, like a parent trying to figure out what misdeed their child has committed behind their back. 

Silco regards you warily for another moment, taking in every minute detail of your face in hopes of detecting something that might give you away while he reaches for the glass set in front of him. Ice clinks against the sides as he swirls it around before bringing it to his lips, taking a long sip followed by a hum of appreciation. His eyes shoot back up to meet yours, and finds you now biting your lip while trying, and failing, to suppress a huge grin. 

You’re definitely up to something, that much he’s certain of now, and the fact that he still can’t figure out what it is causes his previously feigned discontent to turn into more of a bubbling frustration, having just about enough of whatever game you’re playing. A fleeting thought crosses his mind as he glances down at the drink now dangling from his fingertips, then back up to you. 

Silco knows you’ve taken in the brief look of suspicion on his face when you let out a laugh that, despite the visible displeasure he's exuding towards you, is still one of the sweetest sounds he's ever heard.

“I didn’t poison you, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you quip, clearly amused at the implication.

“At this point I would be grateful if you did.”

You laugh again, but it comes out more like a short exhale through your nose along with a relaxed grin, taking a sip of your own beverage, and Silco’s good eye narrows at you once again. 

“Are you drunk?”

“What? No.”

Silence.

“Then what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

He practically glares at you for what feels like a considerable amount of time before it finally dawns on him that you haven’t left yet. 

“Did you need something darling? Or have you just come to find more ways to elicit whatever reaction you’ve been hoping for this evening?” Silco brings the tumbler to his mouth once more, letting it hover there momentarily in order to get the rest of his words out. “Because if the intended reaction was to see how far you can test my patience I can assure you-” 

Words die on his lips immediately when you make a move to stand, mismatched eyes shooting down to your waist to see what appears to be quite possibly the shortest skirt he’s ever seen you in, leaving so very little to the imagination.

He’s still holding the glass right up to his face while he watches you make your way around the only obstacle that separates the two of you before hopping onto one of the corners, your butt and thighs jiggling faintly when they make contact with the solid piece of furniture. “I just figured you could use a drink after such a long night of hard work. Is that so wrong?”

Silco tracks your movements with an almost predatory fixation, watching you lean back slightly to rest against your arms, crossing one leg over the other and he has to actively resist the urge to scoff. This thing is hardly covering anything, you’re essentially sitting there with your bare ass on his desk. The realization of that along with the sight of everything you’re showing has his cock hardening at an alarming rate.

You don’t seem to notice, or if you do you don’t say anything, eyebrows knitting together in a poorly disguised attempt at looking genuinely worried. “What’s wrong? You don’t look very happy to see me.” 

Silco sets the glass down onto his desk with a bit more force than intended, turning his chair to face all the way forward and bringing his mouth to rest against interlocked fingers. Any moment now he’s expecting you to hop right off that corner and make your way back downstairs, back to a place filled with depraved and perverted onlookers. 

Realistically he knows no harm would ever befall you while you were down in the Last Drop. All of his subordinates had been given clear instruction to keep a watchful eye on you at all times, and after a while a lot of them had started to do it less out of obligation and more so out of genuine care, especially Jinx and Sevika. 

Plus, he knows you can hold your own in a fight. Growing up in the undercity had hardened you just enough to make you a scrappy but formidable opponent. So logically speaking, Silco knows there's no safer place for you to be, but the thought of anyone other than himself seeing you in that, especially the less than respectable patrons that frequent his establishment nearly every night, makes his blood boil.

“Of course I'm happy to see you, my dear,” he retorts, turning his head to look over at you once more, eyes darting downwards to that indecent piece of fabric wrapped around your waist then back up to meet your gaze. “It's just that I'm seeing quite a lot of you at the moment, and if you go back downstairs, so will everyone else.” His last words come out strained as he shifts in his chair in a poor attempt to alleviate his growing erection.

“Oh, you mean my skirt? Is there…something wrong with it?” You lift your hips to take the tiniest of scoots towards him, and Silco’s eyes immediately hone in on the action. 

“Don’t be cheeky.”

Another scoot. “I’m afraid that can’t be helped, especially in this.”

At this point he wouldn’t be surprised if you really are trying to kill him, taking controlled and steady breaths while he attempts to suppress his growing ire in response to such a ridiculous question. Of course there’s something wrong with it. Silco’s sure he’d nearly be able to see the soft outline of your mound if you were to spread your legs, even in the slightest.

He lets out another deep breath before picking up his pen and casually scribbling his signature on one of the invoices strewn about in front of him. “You will not be going back down there like that.”

He’s not looking at you, but Silco can see the movements of you moving closer out of the corner of his unmarred eye.

“Are you..asking me to stay?” 

He doesn’t respond, instead electing to take another piece of paper to scrawl his name at the bottom offhandedly. He knows what you’re playing at, the fact that it took him so long to realize it irks him to no end. He wouldn’t mind answering honestly and just telling you that yes, he does want you to stay, but the thought of giving into your bratty little antics this evening doesn’t sit quite right with him. 

Which is why he makes the conscious decision to ignore you as you move close enough to where your upper leg is now narrowly brushing his elbow, the shift causing him to mess up the tail end of another signature. Silco chances a glance towards the movement and regrets it almost immediately when he takes in the soft curve of your thigh, his cock twitching painfully at the sight.

He makes his second mistake when he follows the tantalizing trail of your body upwards and is met with the most unabashed, shit eating grin plastered across your face. He has to force himself to look away, the hand not holding his pen coming up to drag his long fingers back and forth across his mouth as he contemplates the idea of sending you away all together, leaving you pouty and disappointed. And for a moment he comes close to doing just that, until he makes the grave error of risking a glance up at your face again.

You’re not smiling anymore, expression replaced by something far more lustful and serious. Silco simply stares as your tongue slides out to pull your bottom lip in between your teeth before gently nudging his elbow with your knee. He doesn’t hesitate in dropping his arm to offer you the space in front of him, and you slide over gracefully. He stays perfectly still while you plant a foot atop each of the armrests of his ornate chair, knees pressed tightly together.

He finally responds to your earlier question with one of his own. 

“What would possibly give you that idea?” His voice is light and teasing, all traces of anger gone. “You’ve been nothing short of a nightmare all evening, love. And now this?” Fingertips come up to stroke the side of your calf, humming appreciatively.  “What am I going to do with you?”

This earns Silco a wide, toothy grin as you scoot forward. “Whatever do you mean? I’m just sitting here.”

“Don't be coy with me, sweetheart.” He leans forward, breath fanning over your knees as he speaks. “Be a good girl and tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” knees parting just barely, “to answer my question.”

Silco pushes his tongue against his cheek in minor annoyance before sliding both hands up your legs and over your knees, then back down until he reaches your hips. He grips firmly at the supple flesh and yanks you closer towards him, eliciting a sharp squeak followed by a string of giggles.

“I think you might be the most aggravating creature I’ve ever had the displeasure of courting.”

Your face adorns a look of mock appreciation. “Awe, thank you!”

Slender hands travel back up to your knees. “Truly just a tantalizing little menace.” He waits for you to part them further, granting him the access he’s so desperately craving. “One that I’m both drawn to and irritated by all at once.”

Your smile is nothing short of haughty, as if you’re truly taking everything he’s telling you as a compliment. “Well now you’ve really got me hot and bothered,” you shoot back, knees moving further away from each other until you’re spread all the way open for him.

Although spoken in a sarcastic tone, Silco sees that your words are in fact true, his eyes taking in the sight of your already dripping cunt.

“Indulge me, sweetheart,” he says, one hand coming up to trace the backs of your thighs with his knuckles, causing goosebumps to decorate your soft skin. “Why the need to be so difficult tonight?” 

You shiver at the touch, bottom lip still tucked between your teeth as he brings a thumb up to stroke lazily over your pussy. 

“J-just for fun,” you retort, but your voice doesn’t hold the same conviction. “Wanted to see..how long it would take.”

“How long what would take?”

The laugh you let out is shaky at best, but there’s still a bit of confidence left when you answer. “For you to ask me to stay.”

It only takes about half a second before Silco’s thumb pushes into your core and his tongue cards a long, hot stripe along your folds. The noise you make spurring him on further as his mouth envelopes your clit, giving it a harsh suck before pulling away with a satisfying wet plop sound.

“I don’t recall asking anything of the sort,” he chides, sliding his thumb back out. “If memory serves me correctly, you came into my office several times practically demanding my attention.”

Silco punctuates his last few words by pushing two fingers into you, pulling another sharp inhale from your lips as he turns his palm to face upward and curls them inside of you.

“Has it ever occurred to you,” he starts, bringing his thumb to circle against your now swollen clit, drawing a long whine out of you as you work your hips against him. “..that perhaps I attempt to send you away in order to finish with my tasks quickly, just so I can get back to doting on you with said attention? Selfish little creature.”

Your eyebrows pinch together, speaking between shallow breaths. “You.. could have just.. said that.. you know.”

Silco smirks, watching you look back at him with a pair of pleading eyes. “And deny myself the pleasure of seeing your lovely pouts and open displays of petulance?” He adds a third finger. “I think not.” 

“Silco,” you whine, “please.”

His cock twitches in response, and he doesn’t waste any time bringing his mouth back down to your bud and swirling his tongue around it lavishly while his fingers twist and turn inside of you. He watches you throw your head back, one of your hands snaking upwards to grip the edge of the desk above your head, the other coming to latch onto the top of his head hard as you roll your hips against him. 

“There, that’s it,” he coos, “show me how eager you are. Use me.” 

This draws another string of small gasps and moans from you, coupled with lewd, wet, slurping sounds as Silco continues to lap and suck at your clit, bringing his free hand to grip your thigh and anchor you to him. The strain in his pants grows increasingly more painful when you sigh his name affectionately, followed by a noise of protest when he removes his fingers from you all together in an effort to tug at intricate buttons of his trousers, freeing his aching cock and palming himself to the sight of your ruined state. 

Your arousal coating his fingers serves as a welcome lubricant for him to stroke himself languidly, relishing in the feeling of you bucking up into him, using him to chase your own end. His licks are hot and thorough, leaving no part of your heat untouched.

“Yes,” Silco groans into you, “just like that.”  

Your other hand comes down to unbutton your top, cupping and squeezing at one of your breasts, and he knows you’re close by the way you’re begging and pleading above him. The sound of your voice feeds into his determination, letting go of his cock in order to wrap both arms around your thighs, securing you in place and devouring you like a starved man.

The way you cry out his name while your walls flutter around his tongue has him reeling, mismatched eyes boring into you, watching your orgasm in complete reverence as your fluids run down his chin.

“Good girl,” Silco sighs, his movements slowing down to let you ride out your climax. “You always make such sweet sounds for me.” 

Your legs tremble and the vicelike grasp you have on his hair loosens before you slump back down onto his desk, words barely managing to come through your short and labored breaths.

“Could've been making them a lot earlier if you’d…stop trying to kick me out.”

A hint of a smile creeps up on his face as he presses small, feather light kisses up the backs of your thighs, leaving glistening spots of your slick behind in their wake. “You know, it is possible to keep your unsolicited remarks to yourself every once in a while.”

Yours breaks into a devious grin that tugs at his heart without mercy. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” 

“Mmm, point taken.” 

Silco stands to turn your body so that you’re taking up the full length of his desk before climbing up onto it and bracing himself with a hand on either side of your head. His length bobs thick and heavy with need, bringing it to rest against your slit.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

You roll your hips against him needily, coating his cock with your arousal. “Maybe.”

“You drive me absolutely mad,” he growls, voice dripping with carnal hunger as he pushes your legs up against your chest once again, lining himself up with your entrance. And it’s the way you're looking up at him with your lip tucked in between your teeth in anticipation, the slight inward curl of your eyebrows in an almost pleading expression that has him pushing into you in one, smooth buck forward, making you gasp as he bottoms out inside of you.

Silco sees your eyes roll back, and he has to physically stop himself from doing the same. He wants to see it all, wants to see your blissed out expression while he fucks you, wants to see all the different ways he can make you come undone beneath him.

You make a pitiful attempt at stifling a moan, one that ultimately fails when Silco starts to rock his hips against yours, pulling them back slowly and savoring the feeling of his cock dragging along your walls before driving them forward with a sharp, pointed thrust. But he’s right there with you, exhaling a throaty groan at the feeling of your walls engulfing him so deliciously, the sensation being nothing short of divine.

“Look at you, taking me so well,” he whispers, lowering his head and tilting it to place gentle kisses along your jawline before nipping at your earlobe. “Like we were made for each other.”

The breathy whine this elicits causes him to straighten himself upright again, picking up his pace steadily, and soon the room is filled with the obscene, wet smacking of skin against skin as Silco begins to pump into you with feral-like need. He readjusts your legs so that your calves are hooked over his shoulders, letting him fuck you so much deeper. 

You’re a mess of broken pleas beneath him, and he clings to every single one, a symphony meant solely for him and him alone. Silco watches you with wholly, unabashed devotion as your face twists and contorts in pleasure, pleasure that only he can bring you. And though he wants to feel like he’s still in control, he knows deep down he’s equally ruined by what you do to him, maybe even more so. His seafoam eye glazes over, and strands of hair fall loosely around his face as he ruts into you. 

You reach up and try to put your arms around his neck, but the position your legs are in only allow you to claw at his shoulders helplessly. “S-silco, please..”

“Oh? I see someone’s finally learned some manners,” he taunts.

The huff of annoyance you let out amuses him more than he’d care to admit, “For fuck’s sake, Sil. Let me hold you.”

“Demanding thing,” he scolds, but gives into your ‘request’ regardless, lowering your legs just enough so that your knees fall to the side and hook over his forearms, letting you wrap your arms around his neck with open urgency. And now you’re pulling him down and holding him there, like the waters he'd nearly drowned in.

Silco’s jaw goes slack as he turns his head and pants in your ear like some wild beast, whose sole purpose is to bring you to your end. Like it was all he was ever made for. Your head turns to meet his lips with your own, and he tries to keep some semblance of restraint while he kisses you, but he can’t, not with you. It’s hungry and sloppy, full of exceeding desperation. 

He breaks the kiss reluctantly to make his way down to your neck, lips and tongue moving against the delicate flesh and littering your throat with marks of all kinds, leaving no room for anyone to question who you belong to. “Mine,” Silco snarls possessively in between sucks and bites.

He's about to pull away when one of your hands slides up to the nape of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair and locking him in place, begging for more, more, more, and Silco’s more than happy to oblige. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger so tightly, and this realization both excites and ruins him as he begins to ram everything he has into you with new purpose.

“Oh fuck, Silco. Right there,” you cry out, voice becoming raspy and hoarse from your continuous gasps in between moans. 

"Yes, that's it. Show me how much you want this, how much you need this," he huffs out through gritted teeth, trying to establish some form of dominance once again, but it's no use when he realizes his words are just as applicable to him as they are to you.

He forgoes his hold on your legs, letting them fall to your sides briefly before wrapping them around his waist. Your eyes flutter shut and your head starts to loll to the side, but Silco grabs your jaw quickly and forces you to look directly at him.

“None of that, darling. I want you to look at me when you come undone,”  His breath comes out ragged and primal. “You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?”

You nod frantically in response, eyes drifting downward to stare at his mouth, like a silent plea. He takes the hint without delay, squishing your cheeks together until your lips form a small pout before leaning down to kiss you fervently. His tongue swirls around yours, hot and wanting, before he pulls away just enough for him to pant into your open mouth, his connecting to yours by the thinnest string of saliva. 

Silco can sense your second orgasm approaching rapidly, and he brings his fingers towards your lips. You take the hint right away, wrapping them around his digits and sucking on them lavishly. Once he’s satisfied enough, he removes them and snakes his hand down through your intertwined bodies, settling for the bundle of nerves located between your legs.

Your moans increase in pitch, arms and legs squeezing even tighter around him as he works you with skilled flicks of his wrist.

“You’ve endured this so well, my love,” he whispers against your ear, voice laced with unrestrained hedonism and resolve. “Let’s reward all that effort of yours tonight, shall we?”

His question is rhetorical, but you nod so eagerly for him nonetheless as your walls begin to pulsate, clenching so unbelievably tight around him you’re practically pushing his cock out, nearly sending him over the edge himself.  

“That’s my girl,” he sighs with heavy grit and worship. “You feel incredible.”  

Silco’s face comes back up to hover over yours, looking directly into your eyes while he fucks you through your climax, his own looming closer and closer. He leans down to kiss you, swallowing your labored breaths greedily as his thrusts begin to stagger before coming to a complete halt, his pelvis flush against yours as his cock twitches obscenely within your heat. He lets out a harsh, guttural moan right into your mouth as he spills into you, your walls continuing to milk him with stuttered squeezes, and he has to pull away sharply to exhale a series of delirious gasps. 

Your chests heave against one another, waves of pleasure slowly dissipating as your sweat soaked bodies stay interlocked. Silco shifts slightly, bringing his hands to stroke the top of your head lazily with his fingertips. His forehead comes to rest against yours as he places soft, tender kisses along your cheeks, your eyes, your lips, anything within reach.

He’s rewarded with a giggle, followed by a dopey little grin.

“You know,” you say as your breaths finally return to normal. “I just remembered the other reason you try to send me away while you work.”

Silco already knows the answer, but you punctuate your words anyway by wiggling your ass, causing the sound of his paperwork shuffling beneath you, followed by a light yelp as he smacks your bottom lightly. 

“Impossible little wench,” he chastises, lifting himself off of you and being greeted once again by the sight of the thing you keep referring to as a ‘skirt’. He grabs the edge of it with his fingertips, holding it up like it was a cursed object. “Where in Janna’s name did you even get this from?”

You bark out a laugh before propping yourself up hastily to look down at it with pride. “Ran let me borrow it.”

“Excuse me?”

“What?”

“Borrow it,” he repeats, “as in you have every intention of giving it back to them?”

You stare at him for a moment, no doubt mulling over your answer.

“...No?”

Silco smirks at your response before leaning in. “Good girl. Besides, I think we may find many more uses for it still.”

Your eyes widen with child-like wonder, but for the entirely wrong reason. “Oh, so you’ll wear it for me, too?”

He stares back at you blankly, blinking several times before rolling his eyes almost theatrically, earning him another small fit of laughter as he finally graces you with a response.

“Whatever pleases you, I suppose.” 

[hayakawalove]

Why Don't We Try Something New?

Summary: Suguru and Satoru learn a secret you've been hiding. You aren't as pure as they thought you were.

A/N: Got nothing to say besides enjoy.

CW: Smut, Humor, Polyamory, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, Rimming, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Nipple Play, Spit Kink, Choking, Slapping, Face Slapping, Butt Slapping, Spanking, Hair-pulling, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Name-Calling, Dacryphilia, Praise Kink, Humiliation, Degradation, Watching Porn, Top Suguru, Top Gojo, AFAB Reader, Female Reader

W/C: 5,830

Credit to @benkeibear for the banner

God, you were so bored. 

Bored was an understatement. You were basically lifeless. The house was big and lonely without the two boys. The both of them had gone on a trip, one they begged you to join, but you couldn’t; you had too much to do. They promised to call everyday, which they did, and you were glad they were having fun. But a part of you wished you did go. You tried not to listen to it. You ended up getting everything you needed done, at the expense of your sanity. The boys were supposed to be coming home anyway today, so you wouldn’t feel bored for much longer. They were supposed to arrive at 2 pm. Key word being “supposed” to. It was now 6 pm and there was no sign of them. Suguru called you to tell you that their ride was delayed, much to your dismay. You were trying not to count down the minutes until they showed. Surely it would be any second now, right? 

You slump at the kitchen table, idly flicking on your phone screen, your feed not interesting you today. The door creaking open jumpstarts your system, causing you to fly up from your seat. 

“We’re home!” Satoru’s jovial voice sounds out. 

You dart from the kitchen to the door and engulf him in a hug. His chest bounces with laughter as he rubs your back. 

“Bunny! I missed you. I even got you a souvenir!” 

“He ate it.” Suguru confesses Satoru’s sin, setting their bags on the ground. 

“Okay maybe I did. But it’s the thought that counts. I wouldn’t have eaten it if our ride wasn’t delayed. I was starving.” 

You pull away from Satoru and turn to Suguru, slamming yourself into him. He smiles softly at the action, keeping you tight against his chest. 

“I missed you princess.” He whispers the words like they were only meant for you to hear. 

You pull back and look up at them. The boys. Satoru’s hair was ruffled, probably from sleeping against a window if you had to guess. Suguru had bags under his eyes. He admitted to you once that he had a hard time sleeping when you and Satoru weren’t next to him. 

“Hungry? Or are you full after eating my souvenir?” 

Satoru gaps at you, starting to walk in your direction. You take off in a quick dash, running back to the kitchen. 

“I didn’t eat it!” Suguru calls out, pushing his hair back as he follows after the two of you. 

It appears that Satoru ended up catching you as he was sat at the table with you in his lap, his long arms keeping you hostage against him. You were trying to hold back a smile as you struggled in his arms. 

“Don’t pick battles you’re gonna lose bunny.” Satoru warns, not budging. 

After a couple of seconds you let yourself go limp, accepting your trapped fate. 

“Seriously though, are you guys hungry?” 

“Yeah. Food wasn’t that great there.” Suguru responds, sliding out the chair across from you and sitting down. 

They were gone for three days. An agonizing three days.  

“Okay. I can make something, you poor babies can rest.” You tease and pull Satoru’s ear. 

He clicks his tongue at you and tries pulling his head back. 

“I can help.” Suguru, ever the helpful one. 

“Yeah, make him do it so we can keep relaxing.” Satoru, ever the unhelpful one. 

“It’s okay. Although you can pull up the recipe on my phone. I wanna shower first and then I’ll get it started.” 

You pull out your phone and toss it to Suguru. There was a recipe in your recent tabs, one you had saved just for when they came home. 

He accepts it and watches as you pry yourself from Satoru. You pull Satoru’s ear one more time and lean down to kiss Suguru’s cheek. 

You tell them you’ll be quick before you’re off, making your way to the shower. 

“Should’ve offered to go with her.” Satoru sighs out. 

“You’re a pervert.” 

“Like you’re any better?” 

Suguru huffs out before swiping through your phone. He was curious what recipe it would be. He scrolls until he locates your internet app. 

“It’s so nice to be back. It feels like it’s been ages since we were home. Not that where we were staying wasn’t nice-“ Satoru rattles on. 

Suguru opens the app, his eyebrows flying up. All your recent searches were porn. Not the normal kind either. They were all kinky. 

He didn’t care that you watched it, and knew Satoru wouldn’t either. The type just surprised him. 

“What?” Satoru asks, noticing Suguru’s face. 

He gets up from his seat and walks over to Suguru, leaning over his back to see what he was looking at. 

Fuck. 

“What’s she doing watching those?” The tone Satoru had was not one of anger, but one more of curiosity. 

“I don’t know.” Suguru mumbles, clicking the first one he saw. 

A video pulls up. It’s of a woman with a tear stricken face. She was standing up, shaky as a man tossed her around. He smacked her face, pulled her hair, and had a hand wrapped around her throat. 

Satoru’s and Suguru’s pants began to get uncomfortably tight as they watched the scene unfold. You never had sex like this. It wasn’t like your sex life was boring. You all had fun together, but the way you fucked tended to be more lighthearted and on the safer side. 

You were interested in this? 

It was making their cocks unreasonably hard. 

“Why hasn’t she asked to try that with us?” Satoru asks. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Should we ask?”

“I don’t know.” 

Suguru taps out of the video, ignoring all the other searches while trying to locate the recipe. It looked obscenely normal in the midst of all the degeneracy. Suguru slides the phone on the table before the sound of the shower turning off snaps him back to reality. 

Satoru sits next to Suguru, his fingers twitching with the need to see what else you were watching. 

You slide on a tank top and shorts, getting ready as quickly as possible so you could meet them again. The boys were being suspiciously quiet. They probably just passed out. 

You walk back out to the kitchen where the both of them were sitting. Suguru calls your name, looking up at you with an unreadable expression. 

“We need to talk.” He says. 

Your breathing falters while you look at them with confused eyes. 

“Is something wrong?” Your anxiety gets the best of you. 

You sit across from them, not noticing the way Satoru’s eyes carefully slide down your figure. 

“We saw what was on your phone.” Suguru starts. 

You watch them, waiting for Suguru to say more. 

“The recipe?” You ask. 

“The porn.” Satoru cuts right to the chase, he never was one to fuck around. 

Your eyes widen at the admission, heat instantly spreading to your cheeks. Did you forget to delete those? 

You had kept yourself busy while they were gone. It was hard going from sex all the time with two men to nothing at all. You got yourself off and watched videos, that wasn’t a crime was it? 

“I, uh,” you flounder. 

“It’s okay baby. We don’t care. But are you interested in that stuff?” Suguru eyes you, noticing how you dart your gaze between them. 

“Yes. I mean, I don’t know.” You admit, shoulders sagging. 

“You don’t have to be afraid. We aren’t gonna make fun of you.” Satoru traces one of his fingers on your hand. 

Both boys had thought about rougher sex before, but they never wanted to hurt you. In their eyes, you were a dainty flower that needed to be protected. 

Maybe you weren’t as delicate as they thought. 

“I do wanna try it. I just didn’t know how to say anything, it’s kinda weird right?” 

Suguru bites back at coo as you admit your fear. There was something endearing in the way you carried yourself. 

“We can try it. We should make rules though so everyone feels safe.” Suguru says. 

You swallow the spit that had collected in your mouth. Satoru’s lips were spread into a smile, Suguru’s expression matching his. 

“Are you sure? It’s okay if it freaked you out, I-“ 

Satoru barks out a laugh.

“Honey, you’re gonna have to do something a lot worse to freak us out.” He says with a glint in his eyes. 

Suguru looks over to him in agreement. 

“Okay. Let’s try it then.” 

You had talked about what you were comfortable doing with the both of them. They tried to hide the surprise on their faces while you explained your deepest darkest fantasies. They were never unsettled by what you were saying, they just had no idea you wanted to try any of it. By dinner time the conversation was over, the typical air settling amongst you. You almost felt like the conversation didn’t happen at all. 

~~~

Several days pass without incident. You were falling back into your normal routine, finding yourself much more at ease with them back. Your mind sometimes wandered back to the conversation, thinking about when it would happen. You were excited at the prospect of trying something new, feeling your heart race every time the thought crossed your mind. 

You turned off the sink once you were finished washing dishes, indulging yourself in the silence. 

A hand slides over your front, grabbing your neck. Your body jumps; you thought you were alone. 

“You’re cute when you’re scared.” Satoru’s deep voice fills your ears. 

His grip was slightly tight, your mind buzzing. It was happening. It was really happening. 

“I’m not scared.” Were you lying? You were unsure of the answer to that. 

“No? Maybe we should change that.” Satoru flips you around to face him. 

He smashes his lips against yours, teeth nipping your lips causing you to whine. His fingers were bruising you as they held you tight, his hand constricting your air flow. His other hand drags across your body, sliding up your shirt to pinch your nipple. Tongues slide across each other, your moans getting drowned out. 

“Get to the couch, now.” 

His voice held no room for argument. You stumble forward, falling on the couch once you make it. You were about to ask Satoru where he was when you feel a hand wrap around your jaw, tilting your head back. 

You look up, a different figure behind you. Suguru stands behind the couch peering down at you. His eyes instantly put you in a trance. 

“You’re all worked up.” He observes, stroking the side of your face. 

You close your eyes at the feeling. His touch was much lighter than Satoru’s, it usually was, but you could feel the heavy weight that laced his words. There was fear in your veins, but you knew they would take care of you. They would never do something you didn’t want to do. 

You make a strangled noise, wondering what he would do next. The idea of him engaging in anything less than soft and careful left you confused. Imagining Satoru being rough with you was easy. Suguru on the other hand was much more meticulous and calculated, always treating your body like a monastery. 

Suguru keeps his hold on you, tilting your head from side to side as if he was scrutinizing you. 

“Open.” 

Your mouth drops open at the command, your tongue hanging out. Suguru doesn’t say anything else before he leans down, letting a drop of spit fall into your mouth. Your core clenches once it hits your tongue. You swallow it and pop your mouth back open. 

“You don’t even need to be trained. How impressive.” 

You wince. Seeing this side of Suguru was turning you on faster than you were expecting it to. 

“I leave for less than a minute.” Satoru murmurs, eyeing the two of you. 

His eyes were blue and cold as they watch you. Suguru’s hand releases your jaw as you look back at Satoru, eager for more. 

“On your knees facing Suguru.” 

You fumble, turning around to grab the back of the couch while you face Suguru. Even like this he was much taller than you. His hair was pulled back in a bun, somehow making him look much more stern and less soft compared to when the locks flowed down his back. 

You were hoping for some kind of praise like Suguru gave you, although there was something condescending in the way he said it, but Satoru offered nothing. Somehow the anticipation was eating you up, making your body crave more. 

Satoru’s hand roams across your perched ass, thinking of all the ways he wanted to ruin you. All he could think about was how much fun you were going to have, and how he and Suguru were gonna be the ones to cause it. 

A sound rings out and only after several seconds do you register it was Satoru slapping your ass. You’re about to turn your head to look at him when you feel another slap, much harder than the first. You let out a moan, feeling pain begin to bloom across your ass. 

“Keep your eyes on Suguru. Think you can do that?” He asks, voice mocking. 

You hum in agreement, staring up at Suguru. 

“Give me a real answer.” 

Your butt wiggles at the harshness of his words. 

“Yes sir.” 

The room silences, while the two men look at each other. 

Had you said something wrong? 

“You’re unbelievable.” Satoru murmurs, slapping you again. 

You moan and tighten your grip on the back of the couch. Your teeth dig in your bottom lip at the pain. 

“Here we are thinking you’re this well behaved girl, content with missionary and eye contact, when really you’ve been wanting something this dirty all along? Ready to call me sir at the drop of a hat?” 

Slap. 

“Give me a break.” 

Slap.

You moan loud again, bottom lip trembling as you keep your gaze locked on Suguru. 

“Gentle, Satoru.” He chides the other man. 

“No. This is what she wanted. So this is what she’s getting.” 

Satoru hits you again, your ass quickly becoming sore and sensitive. You groan, your body doubling forward. Your head hangs between your shoulder blades, panting heavily as you try to resist the tears. 

Satoru grips your hair, yanking it back so you’re forced to look at Suguru again. 

“What did I say?” Satoru speaks through tight lips.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” 

Suguru reaches a hand up to grasp your cheek. His cock stirs at the expression you’re making. Pain and pleasure painted on your face. 

“I know, he’s really mean huh?” Suguru asks, keeping his hand light and gentle. 

You stifle a sob and nod, trembling against him. 

“My poor girl.” Suguru pushes his thumb on your lip, parting your lips so it can rest on your tongue. 

Satoru chuckles to himself at the scene unfolding in front of him. Of course Suguru would act like the hero coming to save you. Satoru had no idea you were this ignorant. If you thought Satoru was bad, you had no idea what Suguru was going to be like. Satoru almost felt bad. You really weren’t going to have a break between either of them. 

Satoru pulls your pants down and admires your ass, his hand gracing over the sensitive skin. He wondered how you looked this good. Satoru drags down your underwear, pulling both pieces of clothing off your body. 

“I can’t believe it. Crying to Suguru like you’re the victim when you’re fucking soaking.” 

He drags his fingers across your slit, and you whimper at the feeling. He watches your hole clench when he grazes your clit. 

He leans over your back, pressing his chest against you. It made you realize just how big he was. It’s not like you ever forgot, but there were moments when the size difference was shoved in your face. It made a drop of dread spread throughout your body. You really were at the mercy of both of them. 

Satoru holds his fingers in front of Suguru. The other man sticks out a tongue, slowly trailing it up Satoru’s finger. Satoru has to suppress a shiver, gaze locked on the way Suguru cleans him. 

“Satoru’s right baby, you really are filthy.” 

Satoru steps back and slaps your ass again, appreciating how it bounces back. He repeats the action. He notices drool seep from your pussy, making him wonder if he was going to have to deep clean the couch after this. 

Your mind feels hazy as you look up at Suguru, the contours of his face becoming blurry between your tears. 

“Let's move this to the bedroom, Suguru.”

Suguru hums in agreement, pulling his thumb from your lips. You whine at the loss, instantly missing the way he filled your mouth. He walks around the couch and pulls you back, sliding his arms around you to carry you to the bedroom. 

“Don’t you think you baby her too hard?” Satoru asks, following the both of you to the bedroom. 

“But she is a baby, Satoru.” 

You sniffle, burying your face into his neck. His skin feels cool against the heat of your face. His fingers strum against your shoulders and tighten under your knees before he sets you down on the bed. 

“Besides, she’ll need someone to baby her after we’re through.” 

The threat seeps into your bones, making the hair on your arms stand on edge. You had no idea who these boys were. They weren’t your kind and soft boys. No, they were scary. 

And fuck, did it make you wet. 

They stand in front of you, looking down their noses at the sorry sight in front of them. You hiss at your exposed ass against the sheets. When would you be able to sit normally again? Satoru really did a number on you, and they weren’t even done yet. 

“Put that mouth to good use, yeah?” Satoru says, pulling his shirt over his head. 

You try not to ogle at the sight but damn, it was hard not to. His exposed chest ran shock waves through your system every time. Pale skin with toned abs. His stomach flexes as he tosses the shirt aside. 

He works on unbuttoning his pants as Suguru takes his shirt off, kneeling on the bed to help you pull yours over your head. 

“How you feeling baby?” Suguru asks, cupping your face when you’re fully naked. 

“Good, so good, want it rougher.” You were too needy to feel embarrassed. 

“Is that so?” 

Suguru pulls back, staring at you as he unbuckles his pants. You whimper when their cocks jump out, already hard. Their leaky tips stood at attention, facing you. 

It was always hard to suck them off. They were large. Your throat remembers the shape of them for days after whenever you give them head. Satoru bought you a bag of cough drops once just to tease you. You didn’t need him to know that you did end up taking them, and they did soothe your throat. 

You reach out a hand before Satoru smacks it away. 

“No hands.” 

You wince and scoot forward, looking up at Satoru as you take the head of his cock into your mouth. He lets out a sigh of relief the second your warmth envelops him. Salty residue falls on your tongue as you swallow more of him, feeling your throat begin to stretch at the size. He holds the back of your head, moans freely falling from his lips. You loved a lot of things about Satoru. One of those things was the fact he never held back in bed. 

“T-that’s it. Just like that bunny.” 

You push yourself down until you reach his pubic bone. It was nearly impossible to breathe, your hands floundering trying to ground yourself. Satoru pumps inside your mouth a couple times before pulling out, groaning at the sight of your spit hanging off his cock. 

Suguru leans in, brushing his cock against your lips. You sputter for a bit, trying to reclaim the lost air before looking up at Suguru. You stare at him as you take his cock in your mouth, sliding down until you start to choke. Every time you suck Suguru’s cock, you almost feel ashamed. His eyes were always trained on you, it felt as though he was grading you. You could never tell if you were doing a good job. 

You muffle a moan as you slide your tongue up and down his cock, more than eager to make him proud. Satoru must be getting antsy because he pulls your hair back, directing you to his cock. You go back and forth, sucking one cock before going to the other. 

“So talented.” Satoru mocks, watching as you work them both up with only your mouth. 

You were getting dizzy now. It was hard to tell if it was because of the lack of oxygen or because of how needy you were getting. 

Tears run freely down your face as you choke on Suguru, having a hard time taking him fully down your throat as you were starting to get sore. 

“Oh come on, you can do better than that. Let me show you.” Satoru puts a hand on the back of your head, forcing you all the way down Suguru’s cock. 

“S-shit.” Suguru groans, throwing his head back. 

He was getting riled up quicker than normal today, the idea of having their own personal slut getting to him. 

“Just gotta be mean with her. It’s the only way she’ll learn. It’s not her fault she doesn’t have much going on up there.” Satoru pulls your head back before shoving it back down. 

Your eyes fly open, desperate for a break. Being treated like this was making your hole clench, pussy leaking on the bed. You reach down and dip one finger across your clit, moaning at the sensation. Usually the men were quick to take care of you, your body was feeling neglected at the loss of their touch. 

Satoru rips you off Suguru’s cock, sneering at you. 

“Who said you could do that?” He asks. 

You cough, looking back up at him. 

“Someone’s gotta do it.” You feel the need to test him, if only to see how far he would go. 

“Yeah? You think someone has to do it? You think that’s what you’re owed?” His voice takes on a chilling tone, quickly making you regret your decision. 

You decide to try sticking to your guns. You straighten your shoulders and refuse to look away. 

“Let’s get one thing clear. You are not owed anything. If you cum, it’s because we say it’s okay. If you get touched, it’s because we allow it.” 

“Really?” You say. 

Satoru’s face cracks into a terrifying smile, the corner of his lips pulled up while his tongue runs across his teeth. Something deep rooted in your body alerts you, danger, danger, warning you to slowly back away before he bites. 

“So cute that you’re holding out baby, it’s admirable.” Suguru sighs, “it’ll make it all the more validating when you regret it.” 

Your body was trembling, begging for more. Did they know what they were doing to you? By the look on their faces, they must. 

“Since she wants to be touched, why don’t we give her that, Satoru?” 

Satoru agrees, knowing Suguru must have something planned. He was honestly kind of scared for you. 

“Up.” Suguru helps you stand, bringing you where he was. 

“I got her front, you got her back.” Suguru says. 

He sinks to his knees in front of you, wrapping his hands around your waist. Satoru sits on the bed behind you, running his hands up your back, before gliding them back down to your ass. He pulls your cheeks apart and looks at your asshole, begging to be touched. 

Suguru looks up at you as he lets his tongue hang out, swiping it against your throbbing clit. Relief washes over you, it felt so good you had to resist grinding against his face. Satoru dives in, licking across your other tight hole, relishing in the moan you let out. 

The two boys are in sync as they pleasure you. Their warm breaths pound against you as they eat you out from both sides, strong hands holding you up as you sway. The pleasure was overwhelming, your moans becoming erratic. 

Suguru swirls his tongue around your clit, feeling it twitch in his mouth. How long were you going to hold out for? 

Your pussy throbs in neglect, begging to be stimulated along with your clit and asshole. 

Your skin burns in pain as Satoru holds you open, not caring for the way it hurts you when he touches your bruised ass, your bruised ass that he caused. 

He rubs his tongue back and forth across your tight hole, groaning at the way it clenches under his mouth. 

Suguru doesn’t have to watch the way your expression changes to know you were on the edge. He’s fucked you enough to know when you were going to cum. 

He pulls away before you can fall off the edge, peering up to look at your frustrated face. 

Satoru pulls back shortly after, eyes laser focused on your ass. 

“Think she’s allowed to cum yet?” Suguru asks. 

“No, not yet.” Satoru responds. 

He rubs a thumb across your asshole, cock leaking as he hears you gasp.  

They wait until you aren’t close to cumming anymore before they dive back in, mouths attacking you. If you try to lean back to escape Suguru’s tongue, it only forces Satoru against you more, and vice versa. Waves of pleasure shock through your system, but it was almost too much. 

You don’t know where to put your hands, so you settle them against Suguru’s shoulders, fists clenched in response. 

Close, close, close. 

In seconds Suguru is pulling back, Satoru following suit. 

“Is she allowed yet?” Suguru asks, although he already knows the answer. 

“Hell no.” Satoru says. 

“Why not?” You complain, frustrated at the high that was torn from you. 

“You just don’t get it, do you? Even though Satoru so kindly explained it to you.” 

Your stomach drops at the shift in Suguru’s voice. 

“Every orgasm, every tear, every moan, belongs to us.” He completes.

Suguru drags his tongue up your clit, your moans pouring out. Satoru dips his tongue in your hole before trailing across it. 

It was getting hard to think straight with the amount of times they brought you close. Torture, it was torture. How could they make you feel so good but not allow you to succumb to it? 

Your voice is hoarse as you moan. Suguru attaches his lips around your clit, lightly sucking as you rock back and forth. Maybe he would let you cum now. 

“I, I,” you try to speak, your mind failing you. 

Satoru understands Suguru immediately, licking you fast. It crashes over you, you finally cum against their mouths, your moaning cascading down to their ears. It hits you harder than it has in awhile, temporarily blinding you as you shake. 

“Not so bad, was it?” Suguru asks, rubbing your waist. 

You want to crumble to the floor to take a break, but you have a sneaking suspicion they won’t let you. You try to squirm away but their grip remains steady. 

“Oh no princess, you don’t think you’re done yet, do you?” Suguru’s voice sounds patronizing. 

He stands up, dragging his fingers through your slit. It makes you wince, your body much too sensitive still. What else were they planning on doing with you? Could you even handle it? 

Suguru pulls his hand from you, shoving his middle and ring finger in your mouth. 

“Go on, taste yourself.” You choke on his fingers, your cum melting on your tastebuds. 

“So fucking nasty, all because we’re treating you like an object. It’s embarrassing.” He tells you, his eyes focused on the way your tongue cleans his finger. 

He takes his fingers out, allowing you brief reprieve. You were so far gone already and you hadn’t been fucked yet. The sight of you was going to drive him crazy. 

“Kneel on the bed. Since you wanted to be treated like a whore, we’re going to fuck you like a whore.” Suguru says. 

You tremble as you turn around to crawl on the bed. Your kneels settle down as you sigh in relief. At least your ass would get a break. You’re too dazed and confused to notice the both of them kneeling on the bed, situating themselves. Suguru sits in front with Satoru behind. Suguru grabs his cock and drags it up your pussy before sliding inside, your walls hugging him. 

He lets out a ragged breath as he pushes all the way in, holding you steady. You fall forward against him, whimpers escaping your lips as his cock stretches you. Even though he was being rough with you, you could still find solace in the way his arms held you, soft hands keeping you still. 

Satoru spits on his hand, bringing it down to rub his cock. It felt good to finally be touched again, but he knew your ass would feel so much better. He holds you open and guides himself to your hole, letting his tip slip inside. 

It was a tight fit. 

Made even tighter with the way Suguru was filling your other hole up. Satoru’s mouth drops open as he watches his cock disappear into your ass, your tight hole clinging to him. 

“So full, I’m so full.” You blabber against Suguru. 

He lets go of you, but you don’t wobble too much as you’re trapped between their chests. It was hard to catch your breath, their cocks reaching to the deepest parts of you. 

Suguru’s the first to move as he pulls back, slamming his cock in again. Satoru allows Suguru to go ahead as he revels in the feeling of his cock through the thin wall separating the two. 

You let out a strangled moan, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. It was nice. Satoru drags his cock out slowly before building up speed, beginning to fuck you. 

Your walls were so sensitive, being forced open each time they plunged into you. The position you were in made it easy for Suguru’s cock to drag along your gspot, and Suguru made good use of that. 

You loll your head about as they fuck you, each time they shoved themselves in you you became less coherent. 

“That’s it, just needed to be fucked like a slut huh?” Satoru whispers in your ear, slamming into your ass. 

“It’s-it’s too much!” You moan out. 

Tears from the overstimulation pour from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks. 

“Yeah? It’s too much?” Suguru asks. 

You nod and sob, another groan falling from your lips. 

Just a little further, he wants to push you a little further. 

Suguru raises a hand and slaps your cheek, clenching his teeth when he feels you pulsate against him. 

“You shouldn’t start battles you’re not gonna win, princess.” Suguru imitates Satoru from earlier. 

He shoves his cock in you at a faster pace, slapping you once more. 

Your eyes roll back in your head, the pain making your pussy clench. 

“Give me a break, you like this shit.” Satoru says, moaning each time your ass tightens up. 

“I do, I do.” You don’t even know what you’re saying, letting your mouth move without much thought. 

Satoru reaches a hand around you, fingers brushing against your clit before he applies more pressure. He presses against it, letting his fingers swirl around your sensitive nub. 

Everything felt so good. The way they were stretching you, the way your clit throbbed underneath Satoru. 

Suguru reaches up and wraps a hand around your throat, squeezing slightly. Your toes curl at the action, the lack of air heightening your senses even more. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum.” You cry. 

Your eyes squeeze shut, your body bracing for the high. 

His eyebrows pinch together as he slams into you, feeling his release approaching as well. 

Your moans come out broken at the restriction of his hand. Satoru increases his speed on your clit, needing to feel you cum on his cock. 

“Look at me, look at me.” Suguru orders. 

You peel your eyes open to stare at him, letting drool begin to build up in the corner of your lips. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, eyebrows shooting up as you start to cum, clenching around each of their cocks. 

“Yeah, that’s right, keep your eyes on me princess.” Suguru’s words sound breathless. 

Satoru doesn’t let up on your clit, continuing his ministrations as he fucks your ass. He knew Suguru was close, he could feel it in the way his pace had become erratic. 

“Thank you, thank you.” Your voice comes out softer, chanting while you cum. 

Suguru lets out a groan, his cock shooting out cum into your inviting pussy. He keeps his hand on your throat the whole time, only loosening it once he finishes cumming. 

Your eyes look far away as Satoru continues to fuck you, his high coming up. It only takes a couple more thrusts before he moans, his cum filling up your ass. 

The room is filled with weak attempts to catch your breaths, body’s smooshing together. Suguru pulls away, his cock slipping from your sensitive hole. You pout at the loss, almost falling forward until Satoru catches you, keeping you pressed against his chest. 

The weight of Satoru crushing you against him was comforting. His cock softens in your ass, waiting as Suguru grabs a towel and comes back, cleaning you up. 

Once he was finished, he passes the cloth to Satoru, who quickly places it against your ass when he slides out, catching the cum leaking from you. 

He tosses the cloth aside, gliding his hands up your sides while Suguru presses kisses all over your face. 

“You did so good for us.” Suguru murmurs, eyes full of love as he looks at you. 

“So perfect, always perfect.” Satoru says, pressing a kiss on your shoulders. 

“It felt so good, you made me feel so good.” Your mind is static, your body recovering from the session. 

“Yeah?” Suguru asks, finding comfort in the way you speak. 

He was worried that he and Satoru went too hard on you. They didn’t really want to break you. He lays you down on the bed, following after you and holds you tight. His heart clenches at the smile that lights up your features. Satoru slides down as well, eyes flicking down to your face before looking up at Suguru. 

“Let’s sleep for a bit, okay?” You ask, voice already sounding distant. 

“Anything for you, princess.” 

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss @dinolvrrr

If you want to be added to the taglist let me know.

[alotofpockets]

Babies & aunties | Mary Earps x Pregnant!Reader

Where you're pregnant with twins, and Alessia and Ella are overjoyed to become aunts

A/n: thank you @woso-soso & @wosoamazing for your ideas on this one!

Woso masterlist | Words: 1k

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Your wife always dealt with pressure well, in her line of work there really was no other way to go. Penalty shoot outs, game-saving dives, and fighting for the trophies. The news of becoming a mother was on a whole different level, no trophy could ever beat that. 

The two of you had been trying for a baby for a couple months before you had gotten the good news. You had been over the moon that it had worked so soon, and that you were on the journey to motherhood with the love of your life.

You kept the news to yourselves for a bit, wanting to share the moment with each other first. Mary had been absolutely amazing, she was there for you during your morning sickness, food cravings, high emotions, and tiredness. You could not have asked for a better partner through the first trimester of your pregnancy. 

After your ultrasound, you had planned to start telling people. Never did you expect that you would be the ones surprised at the ultrasound. The doctor said it was clear as day, you were pregnant with twins. 

When you got back home from the doctor’s office the two of you sat in the nursery room revising all the ideas you had to make the room work for two babies, while you were both overjoyed that two little babies would be joining your family.

With the ultrasound showing the two little beans, a name you started fondly calling the babies ,it was time to tell your family and friends. Everyone was so happy for the both of you, knowing how badly you wanted to start a family together. Nothing beat the enthusiasm of Mary’s United and England teammates Alessia and Ella. The pair was over the moon with the news and could not wait to be aunties to the babies. 

The next few weeks you were getting stuff together for the little beans their nursery. Which consisted of you telling Mary what you wanted, and her getting and assembling it. Mary did it all happily while you lovingly watched her from the rocking chair that she has also assembled.

You wanted the gender of the babies to be a surprise for the both of you until the gender reveal party. So, at your next check up, you asked the doctor’s to put the results in an envelope. Mary’s mother was the one getting everything ready for the gender reveal party, so she was the only one that knew the genders of the babies.

Julie worked out your ideas to perfection. In the middle of your backyard stood a small football goal decorated with pink and blue tassels, along with a “pink vs blue” banner. Tables were filled with fun games to guess the genders, and names of the babies, and lots of pink and blue coloured food.

“Alright, everybody gather around!” Mary announced as you were getting ready for the actual gender reveal part of the gender reveal party. Your friends and family surrounded you as you stood in front of the football goal in the yard. 

“Thank you all for coming and showing so much love for these little beans already. We truly appreciate each and everyone of you coming out here today.” You say while looking out at the people who filled your backyard.

“Who’s ready to find out what we’re having?” Everyone cheered. “So are we! We have two mini footballs, one for each baby, pink for a girl and blue for a boy.” Mary looked over to you. “Are you ready, darling?” You nod and smile. Mary kisses your cheek before she turns to the rest of the people again. “Can we get a countdown from five?”

“Five, four, three, two, one!” Everyone counted down loudly. On one you both let go of the footballs and kicked them towards the crowd. Both balls exploded in pink powder. Mary looks at you with a face of excitement. “We’re having two girls!” You hug her tight with a face of joy. 

When Ella and Alessia run up and start jumping around with Mary to celebrate the news you step aside and let them have their moment. You watched them huddle and jump around while standing with your friends. It was the perfect moment.

----- maryearps and y/n_y/l/n just posted

maryearps: Today we found out what we're having! Two baby girls💗

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The rest of your pregnancy went smoothly. You had everything ready for the little beans, and were very impatiently waiting for the moment you could hold them in your arms. 

Ella and Alessia were over all the time, they loved talking to the little beans and had even started a new instagram account called Tooney Russo and the Beans, where they were posting everything related to the beans arrival and were planning to post babies and auntie pictures in the future. You thought it was absolutely adorable. They were almost as excited for the babies to be here, as you and Mary were.

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tooney_russo_and_the_beans just posted to their story

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Then the moment was finally there, you got to hold your little beans for the first time. They were absolutely perfect. Their little fingers and toes, tiny noses, squishy cheeks. You were over the moon, you never thought you could fall in love so quickly. Of course you had loved them from the moment you knew you were pregnant, but holding them like this gave a whole new meaning to the word.

Mary was with you the whole time, and the two of you just could not keep your eyes off your little baby girls. The rest of the afternoon you spend in the hospital room as a family of four, with the occasional family and friends visit, to meet the little beans.

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y/n_y/l/n and maryearps just posted

y/n_y/l/n: Our little beans. Currently feeling like the luckiest mama

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[ronearoundblindly]

I have an idea for “how would…” !

It comes from a prank I’m seeing on tiktok lately of couples staying in a hotel room with 2 beds.

How would the guys react to reader saying they can sleep in separate beds tonight? 😆

Inspo: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP81dBS8k/

That's freaking hilarious, the link, but we've got lots of babes to cover! (Also...guess who realized Jake was missing from the banner? 😳👈 This doof.)

Warnings for, well, discussing couples and bed/bedtime activities but it's not real bad. MINORS DNI to be safe!

James Mace

You know what's tiny? A space bunk. He will starfish like a mothaf**ker on that queen size, and you gotta just give him that from time to time. If the stay in the hotel is just one night (and there's been no other time away from you recently), absolutely he will stretch out, pillows everywhere, each limb under a separate layer,--seriously though why are there nine layers of blankets and sheets? that's nuts--and no alarm if at all possible. However, if the stay is longer or the hotel is for a specific couple's vacation thing, then no, he would never spend a whole night outside of your bed. Maybe a nap after too much sun, or likely some space if he (or you) is feeling ill, but otherwise, Mace is very good at sharing resources with people he likes.

Curtis Everett

Oof. I really had to think about this guy. Some of Mace applies here, too, but Curtis likes the idea of having extra room far more than he likes using the room. I think he would try to fall asleep in the other bed for whatever reason, and then inevitably just crawl back in with you. He has never made it a whole night away, even if he falls asleep on the couch at home. He always has to be within arm's reach by the time you wake up.

Jimmy Dobyne

No. Nope. Not in the slightest.

He doesn't particularly like waste, so he might call down to see if there is a room with just one bed available, in case some other guests could use the two. Jimmy also hates the fuss of cleaning. He's acutely aware of how much effort would go into remaking the second bed (washing, etc) and won't even put things on top of the unused bed for the whole stay. Not your bag. Not your butt. Not a towel. Nada.

Johnny Storm

Few quick questions: this hotel is fireproof, right? The bedding, okay, but what about the carpet? The curtains? Are the headboards made of wood? Is the varnish flammable? You don't know? Shit, well, he needs to know.

I feel like Johnny has to have like a special tarp thing to lay over normal bed linens, but honestly, I can't really see how he's ever safe to sleep outside of his own customized bedroom. People do not have complete control while they are unconscious. That's super dangerous for folks like Johnny. Reed's fine because what's the worst that could happen, his foot actually hangs off the edge of the mattress? If we were talking about Ben, the weight-capacity would be a concern, too, so even if you are fine to sleep in the same bed as Johnny and sometimes get burned a bit...I...I'm just not convinced a hotel would want extraneous furniture in there.

That's not a sexy answer, but it's the one you're getting.

Jake Jensen

Dude can fall asleep any. where. any. time. However, if he is lucid enough to pick where he'll fall asleep, it will always be with you...

...after hysterically jumping around like a kid on the extra bed.

I'll just, yeah, leave you with that image. Have fun. Stay weird, Jake.

Lloyd Hansen

If you two are actively doing something--yes, of course, I mean sex or sexual acts or whatever nasty word Lloyd wants to call it--then you are in the same...general area. That's not limited to a bed.

For sleeping, real sleeping, separate beds are 99% of the time a must. There is one exception to this: if Lloyd has been worn out or injured badly on a job--which is so rare--and if it's not quite bad enough to be in a hospital hooked to machines to keep him alive, then he becomes a sort of energy leech and keeps you very close all the time. This is Lloyd's vampire phase. As you can probably deduce, it is not about you, but he will take whatever he can from you.

Ari Levinson

50/50. Ari is moody. He changes with the wind (not in a bad way but for all the small, subtle stuff), and he sometimes just fancies a bit of something different. Take that as you will--and by that I mean run with it because I am totally talking about all sorts of different things to do in bed. He's the type of man who does better with a bit of alone time, too. Never means any offense by it. Just has spells of needing socializing and needing quiet.

Ransom Drysdale

Literally, I feel like I always have the same answer for Ran: it depends on when this is in your relationship and what the hotel stay is for.

Early on in dating, he aires on the side of caution and goes by his mood and yours. If there's been frustration in the day--due to his family or work or anything--then maybe you need some space. When Ransom is in a relationship, for real, he's actually very attuned to the tone of sex--which, of course, will happen no matter the mood of the day--so a lot of connection and intimacy will tell him it's good to stay close while a simpler, transactional need to get off tells him the other bed might be best.

Ran, however, would not get--or enjoy--the 'prank' of this challenge, and stop goddamn filming him for tiktok!

Steve Rogers

Pardon my language, but are you fucking kidding? The look on Steve's face if you so much as hinted... His head would immediately be spinning with 'what did I do wrong?' and 'what romantic gesture can I make right here right now to fix it?'

He's a simple man, and that is a simple no.

Bucky Barnes

Trickier. Much trickier.

Hmm. How to explain...

This feels like a whole season of 'What If...?' but I'll try to simplify.

Are you an Avenger or agent? Are you two on a mission together? I think Bucky is hardcore about keeping sharp and professional during those times. Sleep shifts. Minimal touching. The whole nine yards because safety is paramount. Is there some reason there could be surveillance of you two and you're supposed to be a couple? Bucky can put on one hell of a show like that. Just saying. I doubt, however, that he would mix business and pleasure unless absolutely necessary.

Are you a civilian? Is he a civilian now? Then no, he's in that one bed holding you until the second (maybe third) snooze cycle rings on his alarm. He's notorious for giving himself cushions of time, so it's never him needing to rush out on the average day. It took a while to adjust, but Buck can now also vacation with the best of them. Takes advantage of all the bells and whistles: minibar, room service, and the 'do not disturb' sign. Champion vacationer, he is, of this I have no doubt.

Thank you for asking!

A/N: Mace is a sleeper fave of mine, and I would do anything for that man, I swear... Also, would someone like to tell me why Bucky gets soooo 🥵 in all of these. My god, what am I feeding that boi?

[Main Masterlist; Who Would...Asks; Ko-Fi]

[lemons4u]

𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐓 ! - 𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒┊i should’ve made one of those aesthetic banners for this smau… 💔 but it’s really short anyways so hshshs

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒┊fluff, suggestive (ofc, it’s written by pri, what else do u expect?), a little sad, fem! reader, modern au, somewhat ooc alhaitham not rly though, AND CUTIE PATOOTIE READER… w a little attitude

“ your… GOING OUT WITH A GIRL? ” kaveh shrieked, perhaps alhaitham shouldn’t have told him— but then again, he was in need of desperate help.

“ well… yeah… i am. ” alhaitham shifted nervously, looking off to the side.

“ YOU ONLY GOT THIS APP TWO DAYS AGO THOUGH…!! wait, how long have you even been talking to her? ”

“ uh since like… last night. ”

kaveh blinked at him a couple of times. “ of all people i wouldn’t expect you to… rush all this so… quickly. ” kaveh murmured.

“ i mean usually people wait a couple of months or so. ” kaveh continued.

“ yeah, usually… but since we’re located in the same area i thought this would just be better, no? ”

“ plus, this way i know she’s not some 67 year old… eugh.. ”

kaveh sighed, leaning against the wall. “ i guess you got a point— also that’s an oddly specific age… wanna explain alhaitham? ” he grinned.

“ shut up, you make my head hurt. ” alhaitham snapped back, brows furrowing.

“ ahem, now can you actually help me like… prepare for my… ” what would he call it…?

“ date.” kaveh finished for him, crossing his arms across his chest.

“ yeah sure… if that’s what you wanna call it. ” alhaitham tapped his fingers against the wall… date sounded like a perfect word— he would never admit it though.

“ moving on! what are you gonna wear? ” kaveh exclaimed, clapping his hands.

“ uhm… well i was thinking a brown sweater with a collared shirt and— ”

“ ah ah!” kaveh cut him off, snapping his fingers. “ and jeans right? that’s what you were gonna say… ”

alhaitham nodded sheepishly which made kaveh let out a heavy sigh.

“ i’ll look through MY closet for you, and no i’m not giving you clothes because i like you! because your going out and i’m helping you… and i can’t justlet you embarrass yourself like that. ” kaveh said dramatically.

“ mm… okay. ” alhaitham grumbled, picking up his phone as kaveh dashed away.

he was probably more excited for this than alhaitham himself.

once he finally settled down alhaitham could see the notifications that he completely ignored— a few of them being yours.

god, he shouldn’t have left his phone on silent like that.

immediately he opens up your texts, ignoring everything else.

though he acted quite understanding— alhaitham had to admit he was kind of ( very ) upset…

on such short notice too? how could someone just… do that?

whatever.

⟣ master list ⋆ next ⋆ prev

[cherrycola27]

Red Wine, Fall into me

Warnings: Language, Alcohol consumption, Smut. 18+ (Phoenix x Female Reader) banner by the wonderful @thedroneranger Fic inspired by the Chappell Roan song "Red Wine Supernova"

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

You know they say not to waste a Friday night on a first date.

Yet, here you were, in a nice dress, walking into a cocktail bar, to meet some guy, from some app, on a Friday night for a first date. You'd spent a ridiculous amount of time doing your hair, makeup, and picking out the perfect outfit that was the right balance of "I'm a good girl," and "I just might let you take me home if you play your cards right."

You texted your date that you were there and that you'd be at the bar. You were there a few minutes before your agreed upon time, so you walked up to the bar top, which had a middle-aged couple at one end, and a pretty dark-haired brunette at the other.

You took a seat a few stools down from her and ordered a glass of merlot from the bartender. He sat it down quickly in front of you as you checked your phone to see if your date had responded to your text. You felt immediately defeated to see that it still had not been read.

A few minutes ticked by, and it was now the time you and your date had set to meet. You fired off another text asking if he was there, with no response. Several minutes later, you sent one asking if he was on his way and nothing. Finally, a full thirty minutes and a second glass of wine later, he sent you a message saying that something came up, and he wouldn't make it.

You huffed as you sat your phone down on the counter and groaned. Of course, this would happen to you. This was the last time you agreed to a date from an app.

You sighed and finished the last sip of wine in your glass and rummaged through your purse for your card. Before you could pull it out, though, you heard a soft voice speak. "Put her last two on my tab, and bring us another round if you don't mind."

You look up and see the pretty brunette from earlier handing her card over and taking a seat next to you. "Thank you, but you don't have to do that." You smile at her. "I know, but I want to." She smiles back at you, extending her hand for you to shake, "I'm Natasha, by the way. What's your name?"

You tell her your name, and she repeats it back, slowly, savoring every syllable of it like it's a fine wine. You don't think your name has ever sounded as good as it does coming out of her mouth.

"So, what's a pretty little thing like you doing here all alone?" She asks you. "I was supposed to have a date but—he stood me up." You sigh. "His loss is my gain then." Natasha says as she brings her own wine glass up to her lips. You blush at her words.

"What about you?" You fire back at her. "I just wanted a nice quiet night out, away from the crowds. Somewhere that I could relax and make a new—friend." She winks at you and slides her stool closer to yours.

"So, tell me about yourself." She says, and she rests her foot on the bottom of your stool. Your thighs part just enough to accommodate her toned leg that's exposed from the slit in her dress.

A shiver runs down your spine as you tell her about your job and some of your friends and what you like to do for fun. Her eyes stayed glued to yours, and she nods and questions and seems genuinely interested in you. "What about you?" You ask her when you finish.

"I'm in the Navy. I'm an aviator." She says as if it's the most casual thing in the world.

"Oh. So I guess you're used to going fast and doing what you want then." You smirk at her. "I can go fast." She says as she leans into your space. "But—" she sighs as she places her hand on your thigh. "—I actually have a partner in the backseat that I have to listen to, so I'm very good at taking directions. And, there are so many controls in the cockpit, that I have to be excellent with precision." She breathes out.

Natasha leans in closer to you. "I've always been amazing and zeroing in on my target and finishing the job. She whispers in your ear before pulling back. You swallow thickly and shift in your seat, unable to ignore the wetness pooling between your thighs and the heat that you feel in your belly that isn't from the wine.

"Is that so?" You say, cocking your head to the side. "Now, what exactly would one have to do if they want to see these skills in action?" You pry. "I think after a few glasses of wine and a dance or two, I might be convinced. Care to find out?" A crimson smile curls at her lips as she extends her hand to you.

You nod your head and slip your hand in hers. She places her palm on the small of your back, just a tad too low to be considered decent as she guides you to the dance floor. She presses closer to you to avoid the other people already there. You can smell her perfume. Floral and spicy with a hint of sweet. It is so intoxicating that it makes your head spin more than any glass of wine ever could.

Natasha drags you directly to the middle of the dance floor amongst all the other couples. She spins you around and presses your back to her front. There is absolutely no space between the two of you, and you can feel every soft curve of her body pressed against yours.

You sway to the beat of some song you don't know as her hands skim up and down your arms before resting on your hips. She pulls your hair over one of your shoulders and rests her chin on your newly exposed skin. You shiver as she places a gentle, fleeting kiss on your shoulder. You feel the blush in your cheeks spread all over your body.

"You okay there, pretty girl?" Natasha asks you. "Y—yeah." You stammer out. "Just a little warm is all."

"Why don't we go get some air." She whispers hotly in your ear. Her breathy voice has you weak in the knees. You nod your head in agreement, unable to trust your own voice.

It's quieter outside. So quiet you can hear your heartbeat racing in your ears as the two of you make your way to a secluded spot on the far side of the deck. The fresh salty air fills your lungs as you try to take a deep breath to calm yourself. You lean against the deck railing and watch the waves roll in as the moonlight dances across the dark ocean.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Natasha says as she comes to stand beside you. "It's breathtaking." You say as you turn to face her. "It's not the only breathtaking thing out here." She says, looking you directly in the eye. "No, it's not." You counter.

You inhale deeply as she takes a step forward and places on and on your hip, drawing you closer to her. She uses her free hand to brush a few stray strands of your hair away before cupping your face and pulling you closer to her.

Her lips are pillowy soft when they connect with yours. Her hand slides to the back of your hair, tangling in your locks to hold you in place. You wrap both of your arms around her neck as she trails her tonuge across the seam of your lips, asking for permission to deepen the kiss.

You gladly grant her access, and you moan as her tongue caresses yours. The kiss is sweet, with the last drops of your wine still on each other's mouths.

You moan and lean into her when you feel her fingers dig into your hip. She takes a step closer and pushes your back against the metal deck rail, her lips never leaving yours as her kisses become more hungry, more demanding.

She pulls her mouth away from yours, and you gasp as she trails her perfect pout across your chin and jaw before grazing your ear lobe with her teeth. You inhale sharply, and it's like music to Natasha's ears.

She continues her assault, trying to draw even more new sounds from you. Her lips skim over the sensitive flesh of your neck. You find yourself arching towards her, silently begging her for more. You feel her smile against you before she carefully grazes her teeth over the sensitive flesh before pulling back and laving it with her tongue. She repeats the action and your hand tangles in her dark strands, holding her in place. She chuckles and continues to work the space between your shoulder and ear, surely leaving a few dark marks behind, but you don't care. You want her to mark you up—claim you as hers.

You draw her mouth back to yours and kiss her until you're breathless. She pulls back and her lips are swollen, and her cheeks are red.

"I don't normally do this, y'know." You confess to her.

"Neither do I." She tells you truthfully.

You heave a sigh of relief. "I don't think I've ever done this, actually. But there's something about you that's—magical." You say as you bite down on your lower lip and bat your eyes at her.

"If you think I'm magic here, you should let me take you home. I've got a wand and a rabbit that I can show you all kinds of tricks with." She smirks at you.

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

A few minutes later, the two of you are in the back of an Uber going to Natasha's place. Her hand rests brazenly on your upper thigh, and her nimble fingers are tracing deft patterns across your skin. You squim in your seat, trying to keep yourself calm, when really, all you want to do is plant yourself in her lap and kiss her again.

The two of you somehow make it up the small path that leads to her front door. She unlocks it and pulls you in. Once the door is shut and she's clicked the lock, she pushes you up against it and kisses you roughly. You meet her kisses with passion. Both sets of your hands roam over each other, desperately.

Natasha has enough sense to practically drag you into her bedroom. You stand there a little awkwardly until she comes up behind you and slowly unzips you dress. Her lips trace your spine, leaving faint, wine colored kisses from her leftover lipstick on your flesh.

The garment drops to the floor, and you turn around to face her. She admires how your nipples are peaked and perky with anticipation. The scrap of lace, that could barely be called underwear, that you chose to wear tonight has an obvious dark spot on it. "Such a shame you date didn't get to see this." Natasha breathes out as she lightly grazes the front of it.

You shiver, and she lets out a breathy laugh. You reach for her, catching her wrist and pulling her to you. Your hands reach for her zipper. "Fair is fair." You mumble against her lips as she lets you pull it down before tugging the fabric off of her.

"Lay dow for me, pretty girl." Natasha says when she's kicked her dress to the side and shimmied out of her underwear. You take a moment to take in her form as you slip if your own panties.

Her dark hair falls gracefully over her shoulders. Her breasts are perky and lovely. She has a neatly shaved landing strip that draws your eyes to where you most want to be.

You lay back on her bed, making yourself comfortable on her pillows. Your breathing is shallow as her eyes rake over you.

"You're so fucking beautiful." She says as she crawls towards you. Beautiful. Not pretty, not hot, beautiful. You love how she talks about you. How she makes you feel seen.

"Thank you." You say before you can even think about it. She laughs as she reaches into her nightstand and pulls out the wand and rabbit that she mentioned earlier.

She sets them to the side before gently straddling your hips. She leans down to kiss you. Slowly, this time, it's more deliberate and precise. The two of you let your hands roam over each other's body. She tweaks your nipples, rolling them between her fingers and your arch toward her touch.

Not to be outdone, you wrap your lips around one of her peaks, and she lets out a gorgeous breathy moan that has your heart racing. She whines when you release the flesh with a soft pop but groans and leans into you when you repeat the action on the other. She subtly grinds her hips against you, seeking friction to relieve the ache between her thighs. You grab her thighs and help guide her, and she hums before stopping and sliding off of you.

"Mmm, not yet beautiful. There will be time for that. Let me take care of you first." She smiles at you. You huff a little, but don't protest. Natasha trails her lips across your breasts and chest and down your stomach. She circles her tongue around your navel before placing a kiss on your cunt, right about your clit.

You sigh as you sink deeper into her pillows, inhaling more of her intoxicating scent from earlier. She carefully parts your thighs and slots herself between them.

She grabs your left leg, and feathers kisses up from your knee towards your center and back down, a few times before switching to the right. She's taking her time building you up. And just when you think you are going to burst from her teasing, she places a fleeting kiss on your clit. You squeal and rock your hips upward, chasing her mouth.

She does it again, gently parting your folds with the delicate tip of her tongue, circling the sensitive bud and sucking it into her mouth.

She laps at your core, drinking in the taste of you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Wanton moans leave your mouth, and your chest heaves. One of your hands tightly fists her sheets, the other curling on her hair to hold her right where you want her. You squeeze your eyes shut and throw your head back as pure ecstacy washes over you when you cum.

Natasha works you through it until you push her head away. You lean up on your elbows and meet her eyes. She has a satisfied grin on her face. "How was that?" She asks almost cockily.

"Fantastic." You reply breathlessly. "I'm not done with you yet." She tells you as she reaches for her wand. You swallow and spread your legs for her.

She turns it on a low setting and starts by rubbing it over your nipples and down your body to get you used to the sensation. Slowly, she lowers it to your clit. You jump, still sensitive from your first orgasm, but you relax as she circles it around you bundle of nerves.

You feel one of her slender fingers circle around your entrance. "So fucking wet. All this for me, pretty girl?" She asks you. "Yes." You breathe out. You're jilted by a smack to your cunt. "Say my name, pretty girl. Tell me who's got you like this? Who got your pretty pussy absolutely dripping?" She commands.

"You—you did, Natasha. It's all for you." You babble out. She's satisfied with your answer and rewards you by sinking not one, but two of her long digits inside you and curling them upwards. You cry out her name as she finds your gspot impossibly fast. It should be a crime at how well she already knows your body as she strokes it with the perfect amount of speed and pressure.

She gages each sound you make and adjusts the wand on your clit and her fingers in your cunt. You have to give it to her, she wasn't lying when she said she could take directions.

Your head thrashes from side to side, and you're babbling out her name as she brings you closer to a second orgasm. Your toes curl against the mattress and you bite your bottom lip in an effort to keep your sounds at bay.

Natasha immediately tells you to be loud for her, and you're too for gone, and she has you so damn pliant that you'd do anything for her right now. So you release your lip and scream her name as you cum, gripping her fingers tightly, never wanting them to leave you.

When she does pull them out, you whine at the loss of contact, but it's short lived, because Natasha is crawling up your body and tapping her fingers on your lips.

You obediently open your mouth and close them around her digits, dutifully cleaning them for her. You groan at the taste of you on her hands. Once you've cleaned her, you pull off with a pop and kiss her. Your tongues meld together as you pull her onto of you.

You cradle her head and hook your legs around her waist and flip her under you. "Mine turn." You giggled as she looks up at you, bewildered. "Okay, then." She smiles down at you.

You cup each of her breasts in your hands and roll her nipples between your fingers. She lets out a small gasp as you kiss the tops of her breasts and the valley between them before continuing your journey south. You leave wet kisses across her hip bones and suck a dark mark into her right one, a little reminder of you for later.

You don't tease her like she teased you. You're too impatient. You've been dreaming about what she tasted like ever since you watched her bring that first glass of red wine to her lips this evening.

You tenderly part of folds before licking a long, broad stripe from her opening to her clit.

Natasha arches up off the bed, her hands flying to the sheets, clutching them for dear life. You repeated the motion over again before hooking one of her thighs over your shoulder. She's much more squirmy than you expected.

You work her over and over, tongue diving into her her sopping wet opening, nose bumping her clit.

She cries out your name, fingers in your hair, as you blindly reach for her other toy from earlier. You silently cheer as your hand wraps around her rabbit vibrator.

You turn it on and pull your mouth away from her. Natasha groans at the loss of contact but whimpers when she feels the tip of the vibe at her entrance. You push it in slowly until it is fully seated in her tight, wet, perfect cut.

She lets out a shaky breath as you slowly withdraw the toy and push it back it. You repeat the motion, picking up speed with each thrust. Soon, her hips are meeting it, and the sounds of lewd, wet fucking mixed with cries of your name are bouncing off her walls.

"Guess you had a few tricks up your sleeve, too." She laughs and rolls on top of you and sits up she slides down your body until you can feel her warm pussy right above yours.

Her walls grip the toy tightly, and her voice rises in pitch as she cums hard for you, back arching so hard that you're afraid she might hurt herself. "Fucking magical," you praise her as she comes down from her high. You slide up beside her on the bed. She's panting, trying to catch her breath.

"Think you have one more in you, pretty girl?" She asks you. "Yes, ma'am." You reply. She smiles at you before drawing you up to her lips.

She kisses you tenderly, rocking your hips together, creating a delicious friction between your clits. Your previous orgasms have both of you so wet, that you glide along each other with ease.

Your fingers dig into her thighs as you help guide her, pulling her tighter against you. You feel that familiar coil curling deep into your belly, and your head drops to her shoulder as you roll your hips to meet hers.

Natasha wraps a hand around your throat and draws you back to her. There is a glassy look of pleasure in her eyes, but she squeezes just enough to let you know that she's still in charge. "Cum with me." It's not a request, it's a demand, and who are you to deny her when she's making you feel so good?

You cum together. It's hard and messy and absolutely the most amazing feeling you've ever had. You collapse on the bed, and Natasha falls into you, both utterly spent.

Sometime later, when you can both feel your legs, the two of you make your way to the shower. After cleaning each other, you help her change the sheets, and the two of you get tangled in each other's arms and fall asleep.

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

Six weeks later, you're slipping your hand into Natasha's as you follow her into the Hard Deck on a Friday night. This time, you're not meeting some guy from some app that you deleted ages ago. Instead, your girlfriend is introducing you to her coworkers.

You had already met Bob, her backseater, a few weeks ago because he insisted on meeting you because Nat, or Phoenix as she was known to her friends, couldn't stop talking about you.

Natasha quickly got the two of you a beer before weaving through the crowd to a pool table in the corner.

She takes her time introducing you to each one of them. You smile and wave and try not to be awkward.

"Well, what do we have here? If it ain't Phoenix." A male voice draws out. You turn, and you have to bite your lip to stifle a laugh. "Bagman." Natasha replies flatly. "Always a pleasure, Nix, but what I want to know is who is your friend?" The tall blonde asks.

"This is my girlfriend, jackass, so don't get any ideas." Nat says. "Babe, this is—"

"Jake. Right?" You say cutting her off. "Yeah? How did you know that?" She looks at you with a questioning glance. Jake looks at you equally, confused, trying to decide if you're familiar or not.

"Remember my date that stood me up a few weeks ago, the night we met?" You ask her.

"No. You're kidding." Nat smiles before belting out a laugh. Suddenly Jake's eyes go wide as he connects the dots on who you are.

"Son of a bitch, Bagman, I think I owe you a drink." Nat laughs as you and her other friends join in. Jake's cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Nat wipes a stray tear from her cheek. "But seriously, Jake. Thank you for being a dick. If you hadn't stood her up, I might not have met this amazing woman. Seriously, I owe you one." Natasha smiles at him before pulling you in for a kiss.

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

Eeeekkk! I hope yall enjoyed this! This was my first time writing for Nat! Let me know what you think with a comment or reblog!

Tagging those who might be interested: @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @desert-fern @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @na-ta-sh-aa @katieshook02 @beyondthesefourwalls @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @horseshoegirl @djs8891 @roosters-girl @rosiahills22 @dempy @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @gretagerwigsmuse @mshistorylover @bradshawsbaby @seitmai @kmc1989 @bcarolinablr @waywardhunter95 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @whatislovevavy @inkandarsenic @mak-32 @jiminie-08 @dingochef @laracrofted @skipchat @princess76179 @schoollover @cheyrenee @angelbabyyy99 @bobfloydsbabe @sunlightmurdock @sebsxphia @atarmychick007 @queenlmno @sweetwhispersofchaos @mamaskillerqueen @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @withahappyrefrain

[catinasink]

welcome to the sink ig

have i hit post limit? nyo :3

most recent edit: 22.6.24 (day month year)

quick intro

minor, i go mainly by cat or nico or pluto but i also go by neptune or octavian or leo or calypso or eris or dysnomia or rusty or blue or cerulean or opal or infinity (more about that here or at the bottom), any pronouns

agender + pan + polyam + cupiro + aegoace + apl

dont call me your friend + no /p tonetag

do not send me chain asks + dont tag me in tag games

more

i gaypost, ventpost (w/ rbs off and properly tagged), make random posts about whatever im into at the moment, rb posts about whatever im into at the moment, lyricposting, etc

i have two cats (kim and shego (or floorshitter)), an older sister (she/her), and the irl i mention the most is pb / pissboy (he/they) (i use pb and pissboy interchangably)

pst timezone

intp-t, scorpio sun sagittarius moon scorpio rising

i speak english + russian, learning german + hebrew

sorry if i sound rude when i speak to you, i try not to be

couple sideblogs, including: @nymph-of-the-sea, an rp blog for calypso; @catinabath, which is on a different email as well, currently i use it to inform yall if im on post limit or not; and two gimmick blogs :]

matching descs with @shrimpysstuff, matching banners with @homoashell

i have a family 👍

i swear + use the words faggot + tranny + dyke sometimes for myself (untagged)

i have three lovely qpps i love them sm mwah <33

uhhh ao3 is catinasink

info about my fics

uhmm discord server :3 preferably only join if youre a minor / around the age of a minor mostly for the comfort of the people there i guess? not sure

tags

most of my og posts (not including asks): #cat's rambles

asks: #cat's asks

schoolposting: #cat's schoolposting

venting: #neptune is complaining again

lyricposting: #cat's lyricposting

art: #cat's art

music i write: #cat's lyrics

yearning sighh: #nico catinasink is yearning

queued or scheduled posts: #queue you

submitted posts (usually on post limit): #eris' submissions

@this-is-me-lolol interactions: #basil my beloved <3

pissboy mentions: #my lovely pissboy

sink lore: #happenings of the sink

dreamscape nexus: #dreamscape nexus

the penis saga (more here): #the penis saga

warrior cats: #sorry chat rusty catinasink is rbing warrior cats again

will wood: #opal catinasink is listening to will wood again

will wood daily images: #swiss cheese is giving pluto catinasink will wood encouragement

more abt my names

you can use any prns for any name, or you can use this list if you want

cat, it/its

nico, he/they/it

pluto, it/they/he

neptune, it/they/she

octavian, it/he

leo, he/she

calypso, any

eris, she/it/they/he

dysnomia, she/it + any neos

rusty, he/it + any neos

blue, they/them

opal, any

cerulean, he/she/it/they/fae

infinity, any

have a good day

[mybworlds]

CHAPTER 11

status: ongoing

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: your life is full of 'must'. You live with your overprotective mother who controls every aspect of your life. You have a dream, to write romance novels, but love - real love - you haven't found yet. Your mother has even decided what you must do in your free time: play music. One day, however, when you go to your music teacher's house, you will have an unexpected encounter and from that day on things change…

Masterlist

rating: 18+ explicit (minors, DNI)

Before to start... Thank you for your support, for your likes and reblog, thank you, thank you, thank you ❤️If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging and leaving comments 🫶 if you don't like it don't be rude and keep going. 😉 Please remember English is not my first language, so please be merciful! 🙏

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed

The next day you wake up against the door of your room, you don't know what time it is or what day it is, you don't have your cell phone, you feel dazed, your eyes are swollen which you open with difficulty, you only see that it is daytime because the sunlight illuminates your room, you barely get up and go to the window.

People walk quietly down the street, there are small groups of kids walking here and there, a couple of couples holding hands, a father and daughter walking hand in hand. You rest your hands on the window feeling miserable and burdened, you place your forehead against the window and close your eyes, you think of Joel, who knows if he called, if he wrote to you!

“You don't want to fly away? Then fly away,” you think back to Joel's words.

You hope your mother didn't read or see his calls!

Luckily you have the block on your phone.

You open your eyes again, walk to the door, and make to open it, but it's still closed.

“Mom? Mom open it.”

“I don't deserve this,” you tell her, wanting to use a firm tone of voice, but your tone of voice is shaky.

You hear her footsteps, and this time after a few seconds the door opens, your mother is wearing a red coat, her hair is combed back, she is lightly made up, and she is still peering at you coldly.

She doesn't speak; she waits for you to do so.

“I don't know what to do with you anymore.” she says in a defeated tone of voice “I thought making you attend my prayer group, making you take music lessons would make you better than your father, and instead…” she leaves the sentence hanging.

“Excuse me if I'm not the daughter you wish,” you tell her.

When she wants to hurt you, she compares you to your father.

You don't know exactly what he did, but it is certainly something very serious. Or so you have always guessed from her words and the tone she uses when she mentions about him.

Usually when she compare you to the other parent, you always told her what can I do to change your mind, she told you that you should study and try harder, be more obedient, and after a few weeks, serenity returned between the two of you because you got back in line, in her lines. Today, you don't want to say that statement anymore. It is not fair that everything you want is constantly repressed and belittled. It is not fair that she prevents you from seeing someone. You cannot allow that.

You don't want to get Joel in trouble, you can't.

Your mother sighs, then shakes her head.

“So who was the man Mrs. Bixby saw?” she asks again.

“His name is Jack.” you answer her “I met him when I was waiting for you at the end of my music class, I had finished a few minutes earlier and went into a bar to have a glass of water.” you tell her.

“We're getting somewhere.” she says hearing you confess “How long have you been seeing him? Have you seen him again? What does he do?” she begins with her many questions.

“Since a couple of months, Jack studies psychology. We've always seen each other in public places like the library, restaurant, diner, never here or at his home. Nothing has ever happened, if that's what you care to know,” you say finding a firmer tone of voice.

If she knew what you do with Joel.

“I'd like to meet him,” she says.

“Mom it's a little early, we don't know each other yet to have him come here to the house,” you try to dissuade her.

“I insist!”

You lower your head, you don't have a choice. By now you have to do this or your mother would start again and forbid you any kind of outing.

“All right,” you reply not at all enthusiastically.

Instead, she seems to visibly calm down, “Fine,” she says.

“Where are you going?” you ask her.

“I go to church.” she replies and then she turns her back on you, “Ah, your damn cell phone has been ringing nonstop!” she exclaims.

You leave and make to go to the kitchen to get it back, but your mother once again stops you with her words “I saw there are messages from your friends and at least two from Joel Miller. None from Jack. It's kind of strange that he's not looking for you, isn't it?” she says making you freeze.

“We had a fight two nights ago,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders.

“Well, I'm going then.”

“Joel, when are you coming?” you ask him not answering his question using an alarmed tone.

You nod, when you hear the door close you resume breathing normally and run to unlock your cell phone. You call Joel immediately.

“Baby, finally!” he exclaims in an alarmed tone “I was scared for you. You okay?” he asks you.

“I'm home. D' ya wanna me to pick you up?” he asks you in the same tone.

“No. Um, listen,” you check the door, “my mother suspects something. I can't make you come down here to me anymore, I'll come to you. I'll wait for her to go to the hospital tonight and then I'll sneak out. Okay?”

The door opens and you immediately close the phone pretending you are going to get some cookies for breakfast. Your mother is back, she forgot something she tells you and then goes out again. You breathe a huge sigh of relief, then go back to look at your phone and text Joel “Sorry I ended the call, I couldn't talk. I wish I didn't have to force you to go through this… “

Joel calls you back, you answer.

“You're going to tell me everythin' tonight. 7 o'clock 's okay for you?” he tells you.

If you could, you'd run straight to him.

“Yes. See you tonight,” you tell him, “Bye.”

“Miller careful with that or you'll end up without something very dear to you!” exclaims his colleague, the only female presence on the site, the only friend Joel has and who knows all about you and who has eagerly seen your presence in his friend's life.

Her name is Tess, she pats Joel's shoulders to call him to attention, he looks up and she smiles at him.

“Hey.” Joel greets her thoughtfully, the man is splitting bricks, but the cuts are inaccurate.

Tess stays behind him, “What?” asks Joel.

“Those bricks need to be split four inches farther apart, and then the angle is wrong.” Joel snorts, “What's the matter, Miller?”

“If you want to talk, I'm here,” Tess says again, lighting a cigarette.

“Nothin'.” his tone does not convince Tess, who grabs a rickety chair and sits down. She says nothing, just observes Joel continuing that wrong slanted cut.

Joel snorts, actually you are his fixed thought, at first he was attracted to you because of your sweetness and great insecurity towards the world, towards everything that was unknown to you and he couldn't help but think of your eyes and its endless expressions of astonishment, joy, fear, but also desire and love as you you know each other. When you met, he would have thought anything but to think so much about someone after what had happened to his daughter Sarah and then with his partner! Indeed, when his brother Tommy had asked him to tell his pupil that there would be no more meetings, he never thought he would meet a sweet, pure and fragile girl like you, never thought he would find himself captivated by you, never.

Joel gives her a sidelong glance, “There's not much to say.” Joel picks up the hammer breaking another block.

“Is it about her, isn't it?” she asks.

Joel nods pronouncing your name in a whisper with such delicacy and sweetness as if you were the most precious gem in the world to him.

“I would like to be strong for both of us,” Joel says, throwing the hammer just farther, “but the truth is that knowin' her in danger, in this state of duress, hurts me. What I want is to hold her in my arms and tell her that I will always keep her safe with me.”

Joel quickly realizes, however, that this is not possible. You might have been thrilled about it, but while he himself would have been very happy about it, he still has a lot of doubts about how right it is to bond you with someone like him.

“Did you tell her about Jess?” Tess asks him, taking a puff of her cigarette.

“Yes.” Joel replies immediately, moving away from there and toward the scaffold. Tess follows him in a half-step, “I told her in a nutshell that it didn't end in the best way between us.”

“Did you also tell her she's around and from time to time you see her?” she asks him, resting her forearms on the scaffold's balustrade. Joel gives her a long, penetrating look that counts as an answer, which is no.

Joel still cannot talk about her unfiltered because to do so would mean talking about Sarah, and Sarah is a chapter of his life that he does not want to share with anyone. Unless he has to.

“I know you were really bad first about Sarah and then about Jess, but maybe with her you could-”

“Tess, do you mind if we don't talk about those years of my life at all,” the tone of his voice does not allow for different replies.

“All right.” Tess says “I had felt that you cared particularly for her.”

Joel sighs heavily. He is trying to remember why he still addresses the woman. At that moment it escapes him.

“Yes.”

“If it was a sex thing, I wouldn't have told you to talk to her about who-you-know.” she adds “But from what I understand it's more than that.” the man looks at her with an enigmatic gaze and Tess's eyes go wide “You haven't yet-- oh my God, then this is a serious thing!” she exclaims with a half-smile “And who would have expected old Miller to fall in love again!” she exclaims again patting the man's shoulder who rolls his eyes shaking his head.

Joel looks toward the buildings still under construction, he doesn't like to talk about his feelings, he was never good at expressing them if the situation was clear. Let alone today with you who are so much younger than him, you are absolutely inexperienced and naive! Nonetheless, Joel can't do without you or think about you.

Evening comes and Joel is in great apprehension about you: your voice, your tone were strongly cracked, your words had put him in a state of great agitation.

He has tidied up the house at the least, ordered Italian food, and he's waiting for you with great impatience.

When you knock on the door, he immediately runs to open it. Joel does not even have time to greet you, that you pounce on him, encircling his neck with your arms and burying your head in the crook of his neck. Joel wraps both arms around you and holds you tightly to him, closing his eyes.

“Baby.” he whispers in your ear then kissing one forehead “You're safe.” he tells you increasing his grip even more and then sinking a hand into your hair “My poor baby.” he repeats, you can't speak, you feel overwhelmed, you just stay in that position and inhale his strong scent.

You have, the two of you have, chills.

You can't separate yourself from that embrace, you don't know what to say to each other, but maybe that embrace is worth more than many words.

You eat in silence and only afterwards, when you are on the couch, you lying with your head on his thighs and him gently stroking your hair, you tell him what happened with your mother, you tell him that you are afraid to be there, that you would like to get out of there, to run away. You've always felt this state of oppression, but never as tightly as the night before.

“Please go away. You can come to me,” he tells you.

You look at him with a surprised look, you had thought about your friends, but certainly not him.

“Joel, I…”

“Think about it, but I don't want to know you're in danger. If something happened to you--” you raise your head and stand beside him "I could never forgive myself."

“Sssh,” you say as you sit on his lap, resting a finger on his lips, “I'm here now.”

He gently kisses your fingertip making your skin crawl, you smile at him and then pounce on his lips.

“I would stay like this all day,” you confess to him, afraid to put your foot out the door of his house because you know that once you are out everything will go back to the way it was before and you will go back to being the one forced to act a certain way, to be a certain way. You don't want to, you don't want to. But you have to.

Spending the night in his bed gave you back an ounce of courage that your mother had previously deprived you of, breathing in his strong scent relaxes you, being hugged by him all night long makes you feel good and peaceful all of a sudden. In the morning you wake up like this still hugging each other: you have your back to him, he still holds you tightly to him, you open your eyes, your eyes still pinch a little from the loud crying of the night before, but you feel better already. You feel him moving just behind you, mumbling some unintelligible words, and you find yourself smiling and turning slowly toward him with your face and then your torso. You watch, thanks to the first light of dawn filtering through his bedroom window, his face still stretched out, his lips parted, his beard growing.

You find him wonderful.

You don't want to disturb him, but you can't help the urge to caress him. You gently stroke with your fingertip the contour of his face, his angular nose, the barely noticeable wrinkle between his eyebrows, his forehead, his beard, then his lips.

Joel begins to wake up, smiling and muttering “Gmrning.” you find yourself smiling back before returning his greeting only to find your eyes in each other's. Those sweet chocolate eyes settle on you, he smiles at you and then holds you tightly to him again, you find yourself smiling at each other and exchanging sweet kisses, gently caressing each other.

“I'm here for you. If that's what you wish…” he smiles at you, caressing your face this time with a finger "you will be granted." he says placing a finger on your lips, you gently press your lips against his fingertip without looking away from his eyes. You love to see how the expression in his eyes changes when you do something especially good for him, how his eyes seem to get bigger and darker. Which happens even now.

“Joel…” you say without finish your sentence.

He whispers your name, he pronounce it with desire.

You bridge that very short distance that separates you at once, your lips rest against each other, they open in unison, and your tongues dance at first softly then almost wildly, it is a kiss that takes your breath away.

You wish he would touch you, you wish he would do more-- but you feel it, Joel is like he is always holding back with you. Maybe it's you who has to help him.

You take his hand and bring it to your breast, you know you will drive him crazy. Indeed, his breathing becomes shorter and you find yourself smiling into the kiss. Glad to have provoked a reaction in him.

“Little girl…” he says to your lips, his tone of voice should be a sort of a warning or do you imagine that's what he means using that tone, but you deliberately ignore his tone and instead you look him in the eyes for a long time before saying, “Will you teach me to make you feel as good as you did with me?”

His eyes become if possible even darker, “No.” he answers you dryly “Not yet. You're not ready.” he adds, swallowing.

“You're afraid.” you say moving away from him, he turns supine “You're afraid to cross the line with me, aren't you?” you insist, he looks at you “Well, we've already crossed it. I touch myself because of you, if I have to say it!” you add feeling the heat on your cheeks "You make me feel so good, why can't I do it with you too?" he doesn't answer you, he looks at the ceiling.

You also turn in a supine position, you look away. You don't say anything, you don't know what to say. If he doesn't want to, you cannot make him.

“You don't trust me.” you say after what to you seems like hours of silence, you turn completely away “All right.” you add feeling a knot in your throat, you first feel him move to the other side of the bed then you feel a hand caressing your side and finally you feel a strand of hair move and a kiss behind your ear. You shiver, wanting to hold the point, but you already know you won't last much longer, not with him kissing that sensitive portion of your skin and then moving down to kiss along your neck.

More shivers run down your spine as his unshaven beard brushes against your neck, you turn toward him finding yourself lost in a kiss again. He almost pulls you toward him, you groan from surprise and also from the arousal that is spreading inside you and spreads even more as he towers over you completely. He breaks the kiss and you find your eyes meeting. His hot breath breaks against you and you find yourself closing your eyes.

Like other times, anything could happen out there, but if you are with him you really don't care.

He places a kiss on the tip of your nose and you smile. You smile again.

“D' you wanna try somethin' new?” he asks.

You open your eyes nodding.

He sits in the middle of the bed, you also make to sit, but he shakes his head saying, “Stay down and lemme do it. Honey, if you feel uncomfortable, if you have any pain, stop me right now, okay?”

“What is this about?” you ask him leaning on your forearms.

He looks at you, “I want to touch that your tight little hole with my fingers.”

You flush more at his dirty tone of voice than at what he said, “Haven't you already done that?” you ask him uncertainly.

“Not exactly.” you look at him questioningly “I've only touched a small part of you, I'd like to go deeper.” you swallow “If you don't wanna to-”

“No, no!” you quickly interrupt him “All right. What should I do?” you ask him.

He leans toward you caging you in his arms, he lays a quick kiss on your lips and then returns to sit in the middle of the bed, “Can I take 'em off?”

You nod as he lays his hands on the elastic of your shorts, looks you once more in the eyes as if seeking your consent once more, consent which comes immediately by just raising your pelvis allowing him to remove your shorts and briefs in one move, remaining completely naked from the waist down.

It's not the first time he touches you, but this time you are completely exposed to his sight and it sends more discharges of arousal all along your body especially noticing his equally lust-filled gaze.

“Are you aroused yet?” he asks you.

He pounces on your lips almost sucking your lips and tongue together, you groan in surprise at that kiss so different from the others, “You are beautiful.” you tell him through your lips feeling him smile and looking into your eyes.

He grazes your nose with the tip of his nose, “You are perfect, baby.” he comments leaving a trail of moist kisses along the line of your jaw and then down your neck.

You drop your head back, blissfully surrendering to his lips and then to his hands gently resting on your breasts, moaning softly as you close your eyes.

You nod, “Yes.”

“Lemme see.” he says and then caresses with his left hand your thigh, then your inner thigh and finally there, your intimacy, you squeeze your eyes shut, he hasn't touched you yet and you already feel those familiar tremors inside you.

“You're already soaked.” he says, you open your eyes and look at him questioningly, “Is that wrong?” you ask him puzzled.

“Absolutely not.” he replies running a finger along your intimacy causing you to hold your breath “It means you're already ready.” he explains repeating the same motion back and forth, you find yourself biting your lower lip and clenching your toes feeling an ever-increasing heat spreading to your lower abdomen.

“R - ready for what?” you ask tremblingly, but curious.

“For me.” he answers you with lust-filled eyes as he continues that precise, slow movement “Relax, don't be afraid.” he tells you noticing your tense expression.

“I am not afraid.” you reply looking into his eyes, and it's true you know that whatever he will do, it won't hurt you. You know that you are safe with him and that you would do anything with him.

“Now I'm going to insert my finger inside your cunt,” you swallow “I'm going to do it very slowly, if you have pain or feel uncomfortable, tell me and I'll stop.” he says scrutinizing your face carefully, his gaze tense, focused, full of desire. You nod barely trembling with desire.

Slowly he slides inside you first just the calloused fingertip as you almost jerk to feel part of his finger inside your taut and tender flesh, you tremble with desire, a boiling desire that reverberates in every cell of your body; he stays like this for a while then slides the phalanx inside you, you drop your head on the pillow feeling you are in a world out of the ordinary, you find yourself spreading your lips wide as if searching for oxygen, moaning softly.

“Jus' a lil more.” he warns you before inserting the phalanx inside you. You clench the blankets in the fist of your hands and moan softly, “You're so excited, my baby.” you feel him kiss you on the lips, but you can't kiss him back, you're seeing stars behind your eyelids, it's indescribable.

Then, he sinks inside you again and you open your eyes suddenly, you look down and seeing his finger fully sinked inside you is an even more arousing sensation, feeling his long, thick finger reach such intimate parts of you makes you wet even more “How's it goin'?” he asks you.

Your vision is almost blurred, you are at a loss for words, you just nod.

He leans over to you and kisses you gently on the lips, slowly lets his finger out inside you and this hollow feeling makes you moan into his mouth, then slowly slips his finger back into you making you moan again. He repeats this movement with a slow rhythm that makes the desire inside you grow faster and faster. You moan surrendering to the pleasure he is giving you with that relentless rhythm of his, lips parted and completely exposed to him. Then, with a confident movement, Joel also touches your throbbing center sending you more discharges of pure lust, you no longer know what to focus on, whether on his finger touching hitherto unexplored areas of you or on the palm of his hand caressing your clit.

Hearing you moan against him makes him instinctively close his eyes and breathe deeply, he feels the contractions of your next climax squeeze his finger and the lust spreads strong inside him, he would have liked to make you cum in his mouth or around his cock, but he still has to restrain himself.

“How d' ya feel?” he asks after a couple of minutes of silence, giving you a cloud-light kiss on your neck as the waves of climax slowly leave you.

Your climax explodes violently causing you to gasp and clench the blankets even more tightly in your fist. The room suddenly becomes silent.

There is only your shortness of breath.

“Fine.” you reply, still nodding with your eyes closed.

He slowly kisses your forehead, then your cheek and finally your lips. You open your eyes and exchange a sweet smile.

“Would you like some breakfast?” you ask him after a while.

“Pancakes?” he offers.

You smile, “That'd be perfect.”

He nods chewing, “And that is?”

You slip back into your briefs and shorts and go downstairs to make breakfast.

You found out one more thing about him: Joel is a disaster in the kitchen, first he forgot to add milk to the mixture, then he dropped an egg on the floor in short you did nothing but laugh during this rocambolic breakfast preparation.

You manage after almost an hour to sit at his kitchen worktop eating your pancakes, you add some honey, raspberries and blueberries. You eat in silence, only exchanging long glances, then after you bite into the last piece, you tell him, “I've been thinking about the title of my story.”

“Bittersweet.” you reply, smiling at him.

You see him swallow, “What's it about?” he asks you.

“It's the story of a young woman and her music teacher, a man who is apparently an asshole, actually very sweet and who will help his student to become more and more confident,” you tell him in outline, turning to face him.

He smiles conspiratorially, “That reminds me of somethin'.”

“Huh, yeah!” you exclaim, returning that look and his smile.

“D' you wanna start writing now?” he asks you.

“Do you mind?” you ask him.

He turns to you, then gently taking your chin between his fingers he says, “If you ask me with these sweet eyes, I can't say no.” you lower your gaze for a moment, “Well, I'll take the opportunity to take a shower and then put up a couple of shelves in the living room. You set up wherever you like, here, in the study above, in the bedroom, wherever you like.”

What did you do to deserve such a man?

“Do you mind if I sit on the couch in the living room?” you ask him, this is his house and it seems more than fair to ask his permission before moving anywhere you want.

He leans toward you giving you a sweet kiss on the lips, “Wherever you want.” you smile, then lays his forehead against yours and takes his leave. He sees you turn on the computer, cross your legs and lay the laptop on your lap. He sees you open the program to write, Joel has never understood much about computers and stuff like that, he has always been an analog guy, always loved manual work.

Joel goes into his bedroom and lies down on the bed, feeling alive. He is feeling good for the first time in a long time, living the little moments of everyday life with you makes him feel good, alive and special. He didn't believe that someone like him after all he has experienced could again hold someone in his arms who makes him feel welcomed, loved, who tries to make him feel good, it is a wonderful feeling.

He breath deeply, the scent of you is still strong in his room.

Joel was about to give in earlier when you had asked him to pleasure him, was about to say okay, but that wouldn't have been right. Joel becomes more and more aware that yours is not just a physical attraction, yes of course there is that too. Yet when you are apart he cannot help but think of your scent, your eyes, your smile, your sweetness, your need to be welcomed, cuddled, loved.

“Fuck…” he says, resting his forehead against the shower wall.

He feels his cock throbbing at the thought of your narrowed eyes and wide-open mouth, as he was pleasuring you with his fingers for the first time, the memory of you so tight and wet causes him another jolt. He undresses completely and goes to the shower, he opens the water jet and finds himself thinking that he would love to have you here with him, he imagines what he would do if you were there together. He'd press you against the shower wall and you'd look at him with those wide eyes of yours in surprise, he'd kiss your neck and you'd close your eyes, he'd press himself against you and kiss every inch of your body, he'd feel you tense up and beg for more.

How he would love to have and give more!

He wraps his taut erection in his fist, the roar of the water covers his moans, his heavy breathing, the image of you clinging to him, your arms encircling his neck, he imagines you giving him pleasure. He grits his teeth to disguise the long moan that comes out of his mouth as streams of his hot seed fall partly into his fist and partly against the shower wall.

He washes himself thoroughly, then gets out of the shower. He dries off, puts on old jeans and a black T-shirt he usually uses to do chores around the house, and comes downstairs. He sees you drinking a glass of water in the kitchen, he reaches you out and he wraps his arms around you, and you smile sweetly at him, “How's the writing of your masterpiece goin'?” he asks.

“Don't tease me now,” you reply to him, setting the glass down in the sink.

“I'm not teasing you.” he says giving you a kiss under your ear “If 's something of yours, it's certainly unique. Beautiful. To me, a masterpiece.” you turn to him finding eyes in each other's eyes, he places a kiss on the tip of your nose, you chuckle "I hope everyone gets it, that you can work up the courage to sign up for some classes and they'll notice you, that they can read you sooner or later." he confides.

“Then I wouldn't be here with you anymore,” you say in a huff that makes the two of you feel sick.

Joel lays his hands on your forearms, he strokes you gently, then slides his hands behind your back, “I don't wanna you to be confined here. In this small town. You deserve places like Seattle, Los Angeles, New York, or even Europe. You deserve the world. I wish you could see all the wonders there are,” he tells you.

“You are all the wonder I want in my life,” you tell him.

“Oh, baby.” he says holding you in his arms and placing kisses on your cheek and forehead “You're so sweet, so…” he dips his nose into your hair and you close your eyes, you don't care what he wanted to add, the important thing is what you told him. At the moment you like to write, but you don't want to get away from him, you couldn't stand a world where he is not there. For you it would be intolerable.

[starluvsx]

★𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Proofread:kinda...not rlly

Wordcount:2266

WARNINGS:throw up/emetophobia , panic attack, crying, this takes place before they’re like famous or wtv.also this is very long.

A/N:ntm on the banner idk what happened😭

“Guess where I’m going tonight”I said to the boy I was on the phone with.my best friend Matt.he was playing video games while I got ready.probably not paying much attention to what I was doing but definitely listening.

“Where?” he questioned as his face twisted into one of frustration.most likely because of the game he was playing.

“I’m going to hailys party” I cheekily said.smiling just at the thought of what tonight would be like.

“Isn’t that like all seniors?” he asked, concern lacing his tone.even though we were both the same age he always acted like my older brother.

"uh yea, i'll be fine dont worry.im not gonna like get fucked by a 20 year old or end up passed out in the street.im a responsible person matt."i rambled on

"i know you are but- shit...seniors can be pretty intense sometimes" the boy on the other line explained

"ill be fine dude, ok anyways, what outfit do i wear?" i said while show-casing two outfits that lay on separate hangers.

"im kinda in the middle of something right now"

"i dont care, just look for a second"

"y/n i litterally cant"

"matthew bernard sturniolo turn your fucking head this direction and help me pick out an outift or i swear to God"

"ok ok jeez" he said as he hesitantly turned to face his phone screen. "i don't like either of them"

"oh fuck you" i said as i put my phone onto its back so i could change into one of the outfits.

✧At the party

a large smile was painted on my face as i swayed my hips to the beat of the music. I've never felt more alive.the freshly poured drink splishing and splashing around in the cup i was holding, small droplets finding a home on my wrist. despite this being me being only a junior i was mixing well with the crowd.not feeling awkward or like i didn't belong for a second

a tap on my shoulder stopped my movements abruptly.i turned around to where the feeling came from only to see the girl that i came here with, Serenity. she looked deepyly upset which wasnt usual for the cheerful girl. "hey sese, whats up?" i yelled over the loud music.im not even sure if she could hear me.

"i feel sick" serenity answered. i quickly grabbed her hand and bee-lined it to the bathroom.she had been drinking alot.way more then me.and i was sure that what she mean t by 'i feel sick' was 'im about to throw up' and i want that to be no where else but the toilet.for her dignity and my sanity.

i banged on the door of the first bathroom i came across. "occupied!" someone yelled from the other side, forcing me to practically drag serenity down the crowded hallway to another bathroom.once we made it to the white door i realized there was no point in knocking because i could hear two drunken people going at it as if it were their last night on earth.

panic began to set in at the same pace as reality.no more bathrooms in sight. shit shit shit i mentally cursed to myslef as i looked over at a half folded over serenity. "y/n i think im gonna throw up"the blonde girl stated

i quietly mumbled "no no your not, please don't, not here" but my pleads were to no eval as once the words left my mouth so did all of the drinks serenity had earlier.it was all over me.my shirt and jeans and even my white shoes. i screamed in panic. tears spilling out of my eyes almost automatically.

as my eyes darted all over the place i noticed the bathroom door where the couple once were fucking was now open.i put my hand on serenities back and shoveled her into the bathroom, careful not to touch any of the vomit on my shirt.she dropped to her knees and went head first into the toilet at the sight of it.the sounds making me gag internally.

i slid down the wall behind me and sobbed.not being able to escape the vomit.i pulled my phone out of my back pocket and opened my contacts.i was about to call my mom to pick me up before i looked at the time. '1:48' it read. she was most definitely asleep. the scrolled through my contacts looking for someone that could come pick me up.

'Matty boy' was the name my eyes locked on, not even waiting a second before calling him.the phone rang longer than i would've liked it to as i pressed it up to my ear. please pick up i mentally begged "hey y/n." a sleepy Matt said on the other line.

i wasted no time "Matt please-please come get me"i choked out through cries.

"what?whats going on?are you ok?"he asked.now sounding more alert and awake

"serenity threw up on me and i-i don't know what to do.please just come get me.please Matt"i begged through the phone.tears sprung out my eyes and rolled down my face, leaving marks of dripping mascara to stain my cheeks.

"ok ill be there in a few minutes.wheres serenity now?"Matt asked.i hadn't even noticed her.i looked down from the ceiling i was staring at and locked eyes with her body.

"she's passed out...o-on the bathroom floor"i slowly got out.

"ok y/n listen to me very carfully,i need you to call haily and tell her serenity is in the bathroom passed out and that you need a chnage of clothes okay?do not leave serenity there." the boy on the other line stated very seriously. i mumbled a small 'okay 'before Matt began talking again "ill be there in a few minutes, don't move from the bathroom."he said before hanging up.silence now filling my ears.

✧Some time later

serenity was now gone after being taken to hailys room so she could sober up.i have a change of clothes on, some large sweat pants and a 'the smiths' t-shirt. although my clothes were now in the washer being clean from throw up, i couldn't get the thought out of my head.

this night, my first real party, had gone to shit.i was tried, scared, my makeup was ruined, my back hurt.i just want to go home. then as if my thoughts were read a knock came at the door. "come in"i lightly shouted.

as soon as the door opened and matt was visible i sprung up from my spot on the floor.hugging the boy before either of us could say anything.sobbing into his shoulder. "its okay.its okay.im here."the brunnete boy said into my hair

he held my back as we walked through the sea of people in order to make it to the exit.drunken others staring at us we walked by.i grabbed my coat which had somehow not bee touched the whole night, a dark blue zip up hoodie.i felt goosebumps go up my arms a I put it on.

the cold air hit my face unexpectidely.the winter weather sending shock through my warm body.a smile krept onto my face for an unidentified reason. i brought my arms over my chest and folded them. "why are you smiling?"matt asked while looking over at me.a smile on his face aswell

"i dont know" i answred with a small giggle.once we finally made it to the car i hobbled myself into the front passenger seat.the car was practically silent as he put the key in the ignition and started it.not much being needed to be said.

Once we pulled out of the carefully chosen parking spot I advised Matt to not drive me home seeing as my mom would probably kill me.a small hum of approval being the only noise to come from him.

This silence was soon followed up with an unexpected “thank you”from Matt. “For calling me when you needed to and not being stubborn”he clarified

A vocal response didn’t seem to fit the situation so I simply nodded in acknowledgment. “My parents are actually out on vacation so there’s no harm in you staying the night by the way, went to Maine or something.” He began to speak.I didn’t respond.only looking out the window infront of me.

“So what was it like?your first senior party?”the driving boy asked as he focused on the road infront of us.the street lights and cars illuminating his pale face.

“Well besides being thrown up on and having a whole panic attack it was pretty good.the drinks were alright and a few guys hit on me but besides that it was just alright”I answered his question.

“Not everything you dreamed of?”matt asked teasingly. Shaking my head no in response “Bummer.well now you get to spend the night with me” he continued as we pulled into his driveway.i never realized how close he lived to Haily.

Once we entered the house I was met with Chris sitting at the kitchen table. “Woah what happened to you”Chris asked.looking up from his cereal and phone.

“A party” I weakly answered.

“Oh is that y/n?”Nick asked from the couch as he turned his head around to face me. “Hey baeee, had a rough night?”he greeted and questioned.

“Rough Night is the understatement of the century”I grumbled as I opened their fridge searching for water.

“You went to hailys party right?yea those seniors are crazy.are those your clothes?”Nick rambled on.

“No these are hailys,serenity threw up on me.”I casually answered,shuddering at the remembrance of what happened.I stretched my arm out to grab the advil in their top shelf.

“Oh gross.you sleeping here tonight?”chris chimed in and asked.

“Yea, no point in going home and getting my ass beat.”I exaggerated

“Where you sleepin?”chris asked again

“Not with you, last time you punched me right in the boob, painful as fuck.”I retorted as I swapped the pills and water.

“Dude it was an accident!i was sleeping!”he answered as he threw his hand sup in defense.making me giggle.

“Not taking any chances”

“Well you can’t sleep with me.”Nick stated suddenly

“Why?”

“My bed is fucking lopsided and I have to sleep on the couch till it’s fixed” Nick said

“Just sleep in Chris’ room”

“He fucking attacks me in his sleep!”

“What about Matt?”

“He’s up too late for me, I need my eight hours but I guess this kid only needs 8 minutes” Nick answered my few questions causing me to lightly laugh

“Ok then I guess I’m sleeping in your room Matty boy”I said, turning to the boy who had just been listening to this conversation silently.

“Ok then cmon,I’m going to bed right now”he tiredly said as he walked in the direction of his room.

“I find that hard to believe”Nick shouted from his place in the couch.

I hugged Chris and Nick before following Matt into his room.

Upon opening the door I saw Matt face down on the mattress. “Jeez I didn’t think you were that tired” I joked as I sat down on the bed next to him.the calming blue led lights coloring us and the rest of the room around us.

He turned his head sideways to face me “I’m always tired”he mumbled.I situated my body so I was now laying next to him more comfortably.we then gradually moved ourselves to face each other while laying on our sides.his eyes staring into mine deeply.

"your beautiful" I whispered under my breath. ive always though Matt was attractive.not in a sexual way but the same way I think Alahna is pretty.but tonight was different.the way the blue lights bounced off his face, and how his messy hair rested almost perfectly on his forehead, or maybe it was how his dark, tired, eyes never seemed to look scary or weird on him.nonetheless he looked a way I don't even think I could describe if you put the words out in-front of me.

"your angelic..." I found myself say as my heart was taking action before my brain.i brushed some hair out of his eyes delicately with my fresh painted nails.he didn't respond, only giving me small smile.i caressed the side of his face with the back of my hand.tracing his facial structure.

"I love you" he abruptly said.the three words causing blood to rush to my cheeks rapidly.my heart besting faster almost as if on command

"I'll always love you more"I solemnly said.not exactly wanting to see his reaction to my words i moved in a little closer and closed my eyes.curling up and grabbing the covers.to my surprise though, after a few minutes I could feel his arm sake over my body and pull me closer.my head resting under his chin lightly.

then we fell asleep peacefully.silently hoping that if we were to never to wake up again that we stay together in the next life

[ficandkaboodle]

Papa’s Favorite Ghoul: Primo

Banner Credit Goes to @saradika-graphics! Word Count: 3281

Man, where do I even begin? I guess by stating that there’s two tropes I like: AUs where characters switch dynamics, and when characters or people go by titles that don’t traditionally align with their gender identity. Like woman kings or, in the case of Star vs the Forces of Evil, Jushtin the Boy Queen. Admittedly they’re more so applied to align with the importance placed on patriarchal and/or matriarchal power but we’re not getting into that. Nor are we getting into the kind of weird patriarchal traits of the Catholic Church the Church of Ghost keeps hold to — there are real-world explanations for them, I suppose, and this is fanfiction.

What we are getting into is my blending of the two aforementioned tropes to create this…Well, I guess it’s a series of sorts now because each character segment got too hefty to belong to one singular post. My bad. But I digress:

Somewhere out there, there is a universe where you were a part of the bloodline that has long reigned the Satanic Church as a dark papal dynasty. And now the title of Papa, for better or worse, has fallen upon you. You’ve trained your entire life for this — mephistophically, that is. But few things can prepare someone for dealing with ghouls more than actual exposure can. And now with the task of utilizing music to corrupt and recruit falling upon you, you’ll have plenty of time to become familiar with these literal hellions.

Don’t worry, though: If there’s one thing that has remained consistent throughout the millennia, it’s that a Papa almost always finds that one ghoul form whom they develop a fondness for . . .

You had not, in fact, been the one to summon the ghoul known around the Ministry as “Primo”.

He had been walking these unhallowed grounds since before you were born. A ghoul having an extended tenure topside wasn’t unheard of, but the implications set by his humanoid appearance of a very tall old man seemed to punctuate that point. Was he genuinely that old? Did he use a bit of ghoul magic to influence his appearance? You weren't going to ask.

Coupled with the way he carried himself, his presence commanded respect, something which the Clergy had been surprisingly willing to oblige despite his species.

Primo was, for all intents and purposes, the ideal ghoul: He had an intense work ethic, he was loyal, and he was tame enough to be of use while also posing a threat to anyone who did the same towards the Clergy.

Even something as simple as his horns seemed perfect for his position: The four horns of a Jacob sheep’s spiked warningly from his flesh, the perfect sort of horns for a ghoul of the Satanic Church to bear if there ever was any!

Even though his original summoner had long since passed, they never asked him if he wanted to return to the Pit. And, to their credit, Primo never expressed any desire to. It was that kind of dedication that endeared him so and kept him at the ready to be a conduit for the Old One’s message.

It was also probably the only reason why he’d involved himself in the “Ghost Project” you had recently proposed in a board meeting, even though he had made it extremely apparent that he did not see you as worthy of the title of Papa. If anything, he did so in order to keep an eye on you.

Primo had served many Papas in his time topside. Suffice it to say, you were nothing like any of them! Where your ancestors commanded their dark flock, Primo felt you merely timidly nudged them. Where the Papas of yore spat promises of the Dark One's ire and the rot of man, you seemed to more so focus on concepts of personal principle. Not entirely incorrect, but it certainly felt like a watered down method of leading.

Where was the damned soul made of brimstone and hellfire? Where was that penetrating glare that could freeze the doubters? All the old ghoul saw when you assumed the mitre was a soft-spoken slip of something or other that had fumbled their way through the bloodline. Had it not been for The Mark that paled your left eye, he might have more vehemently – more violently – questioned your ascension.

But the Clergy made no movements to dismiss or discard you, and Primo had never been one to take impulsive action. So here he began to find himself: Sitting at a drum set for rehearsals, battering away whilst his peers made fools of themselves as they writhed about, mimicking sexual proclivities or just plain goofing off.

But for as much as he would glower at them, his true poison was always fixated on you: You, who clearly just wanted the attention the Dark One was supposed to be receiving. You, who was just plain wasting his time – time that could be put to more use around the Ministry instead of spending hour upon hour listening to you warble the same cheesy lyrics, bastardizing unholy psalms passed down through millennia.

But he was nothing if not a professional, attending all rehearsal sessions, barely speaking unless it was to keep the more juvenile bandmates in line. Though more often than not, need only shoot them a sharp stare with those magma-red eyes of his and they would stop immediately.

That was all you needed when, surprised that he would pick something as raucous as the drums, you attempted to offer something not as physically demanding or requiring of too much movement.

You had meant nothing by it, of course. If anything, it was an attempt on your part to at least try and build a communication with one of the people (?) you would be working with indefinitely. Your peers and predecessors as a whole weren’t known for extending much kindness to the ghouls under their power; that was something you wanted to change during your reign. The rest of the ghouls, bandmates and Ministry-established alike, seemed to appreciate that well enough but Primo . . . Well . . .

Weren’t earth ghouls supposed to be less . . . intense? Stubborn and a twinge terse, perhaps, but usually they still had a bit of gentleness to them after a point. But then again, Primo was in a class of his own. Or maybe he’d just been a fire ghoul at some point? Might explain the eyes . . .

Really, though, the praise you’d heard regarding his dedication towards Papas past had yet to make any real appearance beyond him not taking you out. And perhaps volunteering to participate in your brain child, though you felt that was more so out of obligation to the Church rather than out of any real reverence.

Given how blatant he had made his dislike of you from the get-go, you decided to accept his (admittedly impeccable) drumming skills as the closest thing to respect you were going to ever get out of him. Much like the Clergy, you weren’t going to look this gift horse in the mouth too hard.

Your magnum opus couldn't afford it and for as confident as you were in the prospects of it, you knew you would need all the help you could get. Even if some of it came from an ancient earth ghoul who wished you would keel over so the next guy could take over.

If Primo could grit his teeth, then you sure as shit could to get the results you were looking for. Even if the results meant enduring painstakingly awkward rehearsals, right up until Ghost's very first performance.

Primo knew not to expect much in the way of venues. After all, bands that merely copied their principles never had an easy foothold in the world, never mind an actual band representing the Church. In the end, it did make the most sense to perform in lowly places, places inhabited by those most vulnerable and willing to lend an ear. Still: He had not anticipated this . . . “Whiskey a Go Go” place to be your debut. Oh well. The crowd here clearly looked susceptible enough; he could handle it.

He didn’t approve of you donning your chasuble for such an event but at that point, what did it even matter? He just needed to literally play his part and get this over with. Maybe then this tomfoolery could be put to bed and you would be reprimanded for wasting the Ministry’s time and resources, sullying their trust.

At least, that had been the idea when the first song was signaled in.

But as the setlist progressed, Primo couldn’t help but note how his expectations weren't being met. In fact, quite the opposite was beginning to take hold. Like how the words sounded different even though they were the same ones he’d heard ad nauseum.

Snippets and verses clipped from corrupt hymns made themselves right at home in the measures, something he’d internally protested the first times he’d recognized their presence.

Rhythms sounded more coordinated against the acoustics of the venue, far different from the way they resonated in the makeshift practice room back at the Abbey. This was what they were meant to sound like? Not a tangled mess of notes and words struggling and biting and fighting for dominance, but actual music stretching to the rafters? Huh. Who would’ve thought?

And all the shenanigans his peers had participated in – back at the Ministry, it seemed so juvenile, so distracting. They weren’t taking this shameful display with any kind of seriousness. But in that moment, the jumping, the showboating, even the gyrating all seemed right at home on the stage.

But above all else, it was the response to it all: Audiences loved it. They loved the words, the chords, the riffs, the "ghouligan" behavior. And, perhaps most of all, they seemed to love you. Who you were, in this moment, was far from whom Primo had been seeing – whom he thought he saw – in the pulpit and at rehearsals.

All that had been apparent child's play. Or perhaps they were simply the wrong environment for your fullest potential. Here, on the stage, you positively bloomed, transforming into something radiant, something filled with infernal fervor. A little hell flower decked in infernal regalia, your chasuble catching the stage lights like petals collecting sunlight.

During the few times you would turn your back to the audience and faced him, he could see it even from his furthermost position in the back: That fire he thought you lacked, blazing from your every pore, brightening your eyes and casting long, dark shadows upon all before you.

Primo had been right: You truly were unlike any Papa he’d ever served before . . .

From then on, Primo was to decidedly keep a closer eye on you. No more having the rug pulled from beneath him. Clearly you were like a mystery seed: He had no idea what your potential truly was, having not quite encountered something like you before. As such, you needed to be . . . studied. If at a distance, for now.

However, it's a bit difficult to go unnoticed when you're a 6'1" ghoul with large horns when out of a glamour. Never mind that you had grown so used to his stare being fixed on you that you always knew when it had reappeared. Only, you couldn't help but feel that something about it was . . . different. Somehow.

It was normal enough to feel them during black mass because everyone's eyes were on you. But to feel them when you would go to the library to request old tomes even most Clergymen did not seek; when you slipped members of the Children's Ministry candy to perk them up after a particularly boring Latin Studies class with Bishop Malicion. Even in what should have been the sanctity of your office, you swore you could feel those red-hot eyes affixed to your person!

But the heat of them was gone now, and hadn't quite been there since the Whiskey a Go Go. Instead, they felt more curious. Maybe like a cat? Ghouls were often likened to cats above all other manner of beast but Primo had only resembled one in the way he composed himself. A trait like intrigue just seemed bizarre to picture him exhibiting, let alone so obviously.

However, you were still Papa throughout all this: Best not to dwell on it and instead keep focusing on keeping your project afloat. You would deal with whatever was going on with old Primo later.

(Though you couldn't stop yourself from feeling slightly giddy at the possible improvement. Having him give you the slightest hint of a nod while passing in the hallways was leagues better than having him radiate bloodlust or disdain!)

Later, however, came quicker than you had prepared yourself for. In fact, it arrived one curtain call during the band’s slow creep towards notoriety.

In hindsight, the fact he willingly held your hand for the final bow should have been a sign that something about tonight was going to be different. Normally, if he had to join hands with anybody, he made sure to position himself at the very end so he need only spare one hand and with another ghoul. Being virtually in the middle with you would have required effort on his part.

But you were abuzz, the performance having gone splendidly with a highly receptive and interactive crowd. You were quite proud of yourself and your ghouls if you said so yourself. Maybe the energy that evening was just enough to make Primo feel less rigid than usual?

You’d only just risen up from your bow, ready to release his hand when you noticed that he himself was not letting go of your own. Odd, considering he’d done so with the other ghoul he'd been holding. You tried not to look perplexed when you spared him a glance; maybe something was wrong and he needed you to be on high alert? Though, no, that wound up not being the problem – in fact, there was no problem whatsoever.

He just needed to keep your hand in his so that he could raise the back of your hand to his mask – where his mouth would be.

It was a pantomime of a kiss, sure, but the gesture was still very evident. Screeches of delight erupted from the audience below as heterochromatic eyes widened against black paint, staring at scarlet ones peering through the eyeholes of a mask.

Suffice to say, what fans Ghost had already garnered had a field day. Soon, fanzines featuring the visage of their new favorite band's lead singer and drummer would appear in grungy coffee shops and to be swapped at both Ghost shows and shows of other bands. It wasn't Time Magazine but the marketing practically handled itself, and that was good enough for the Ministry to quietly applaud Primo's forwardness.

Clearly the Ministry's favorite ghoul knew what the people wanted and took it upon himself to stoke the flames to drum up further intrigue and popularity.

So surely it made sense to continue fostering this relationship, right? For the good of authenticity, of course.

It wasn’t long at all before you found yourself confiding in Primo, bouncing lyrics off of him. Lyrics turned into discussions, dissections of your faith’s principles and even a few misconceptions that most were too tired to correct at this point.

And he, in turn, used his many, many, many years of wisdom in his services to you.

Even divulging into his life before the Ministry, what little there was worth recounting. There was good reason he’d stayed up here so long after all: Life topside was just so different, so brightly-lit when compared to the Pit. Sure, he might’ve been built exactly for the life infernal, but that didn’t mean that a ghoul lacked a capacity for more.

The biggest example in his case was the garden he’d kept during his time here. It was almost funny: You’d walked these grounds for so long, so used to the presence of the greenhouse that sat towards the back of the garden. The brightness of the vegetation and bushes stood out from its darker, more gothic-leaning surroundings in an almost silly way.

Really, though, your only real interactions with that section of the Ministry could be boiled down to times spent in your office. The window there allowed just enough of a view of the little land below, one you couldn’t help but look at when the tensions in your poorly-postured back traveled into your skull, or when a delivery ghoul delivered more heaps of papers for you to look over and sign. (Suddenly, feeling Primo's intense gaze on you even when you thought you were alone made sense.)

Your path to the antipapacy was basically carved out for you, it ironically left very little room for extracurriculars such as gardening. But you could always count on catching a Sibling or earth ghoul or two, hauling heavy sacks of soil and carting that season’s harvest in a wheelbarrow.

Their decision to spend their time on such a long-term task that demanded constant attention and dedication was admirable to you. You could relate to focusing in on a project that would take time and focus.

And to see their efforts be rewarded with something brilliant and fortifying, something that caught the eye and could be used to nourish both the body and mind . . .

In way, perhaps seeing the hardships that produced flowers and fruit might have served as inspiration and motivation for your idea to entice the masses with music. Just a twinge.

To learn that the very things that refreshed you in your moments of exhaustion had grown under the same watch as the one that had once wished you ill initially amazed you. And amused you.

The idea of ever having been afraid of Primo seemed so silly now, you couldn’t even remember what the heat of his ire felt like. If anything, the pierce of Primo’s gaze had softened into something . . . Well, the proper words escaped you any time you tried to settle on one. "Passionate" mixed with "admiration", but still with its tenderness.

As it turned out, that warmth earth ghouls were often characterized with did exist in the old curmudgeon. It was exhibited as the years marched on and as you both grew closer.

It was there even in small moments such as this, with you kneeling in the soil, planting your umpteenth flower. You had learned under his watch years ago and no longer needed instruction, but it still felt lovely to share this type of thing together. Even after all this time.

A grunt escaped you as you wobblily stood back up from aching knees, another when you cracked your back.

“One of these days, Primo,” you sighed, “I’m gonna get down and not be able to get back up. You can just bury me here, then.”

It was a joke, of course, and you were totally prepared to not get a laugh from the old ghoul. Primo’s sense of humor, you’d long since learned, was as mysterious as it was strange. It was frankly a wild guess as to what would make him laugh on any given day. What you hadn’t prepared for, though, was the way the ghoul’s eyes stared back at you. You didn’t feel unsafe or anything, but you certainly felt . . . observed.

There was that curious cat vibe that had started it all from way back when. But, knowing Primo as you now did, you knew he was simply collecting thoughts. He would eventually reveal them to you in due time.

In the meantime, though, it served you better to shake it off. Supper would be served shortly, anyway.

“Remember to wash up,” you offered, standing as high on your toe tips as you could just to place a peck on the soft, weary flesh of his neck. To that, you received a quiet grunt typical of your partner.

As you left, though, Primo kept his eyes on you, tail thoughtfully swaying behind him. He remembered seeing you sparingly in your youth, which was impressive considering how unimportant you’d been back then. You weren’t Papa, you weren’t anything, really. You weren’t important to him.

But now, years later, here you stood: Wrinkles that weren’t there before were beginning to carve their permanence into your features, standing out even through your papal paints. Just the other month, you’d noted an increase in silver strands popping up in your hair. You sighed something about the stresses of dealing with the next projected tour or an onslaught of paperwork, but Primo knew that soon, more silver would come sprouting out at your temples. More than you’d probably bother dyeing, if he knew you. If he knew the people before you.

He'd seen this all happen before, many, many times. You may have been different from all other Papas he’d known, but all Papas were alike in this one way.

A heavy sigh broke him from his stagnation, and Primo began to trek back to your chambers to wash up. Before he even entered the building proper, his mind was made: If and when your time came, Primo would finally request to return back to the Pit.

[eirikrjs]

UPDATE 9/2/23

Wow, it's almost fall and I'm still kickin', so here's a proper update about what's been going on with me. I do feel great most days, and with Halloween in season around the US, it makes me very happy. As far as stroke recovery goes, my leg has a newly made brace and my walking in general has greatly improved the past few months. I really don't roll my left foot anymore, in other words, my foot can go flat instead of landing on the ankle and possibly causing injury.

My arm is still mostly nothing but a couple weeks back I was able to move my shoulder again so there's hope. I also got a home electrical stimulation device so I give my arm and hand a jolt for an hour everyday. With time, I feel confident i'll recover.

A great help with my recovery has been the amazing @dagdasgoddess , a fellow young stroke survivor who has been watching out for me and offering encouragement every day for a couple months now, exactly when I needed it. Mentally, stroke recovery is pretty damn tough but most days I feel positive about it, with great thanks to her.

And now on to some business. Shortly before my stroke I was planning on celebrating the 10th anniversary of my blog (which would have been in December of last year, but I was still in the hospital, obviously...) And one of the things I was going to do was photograph and review all the smt demon figures I have, using my special diorama table. I got around to starting the project a couple weeks before the stroke, naturally starting with the Leonard figure. Here's one of the pics:

I also made something of an anniversary banner, just because, I guess:

I also want to talk about some milestones reached, starting with some follower counts. By December last year I finally surpassed 2k followers, so thank you so very much. This is after Kanekos Crib Notes quickly dwarfed my own blog followers shortly after its establishment in like 2014. But now my own blog is even ahead of kcn, as undoubtedly its current annual schedule limits its growth and reach. (But hey, it's almost October, aka KCN MONTH)

The last milestone is above: my Stealing Knowledge blogger has reached half a million views! Unbelievable, thanks for reading and sharing over the years! Identity crisis part 3 remains the most viewed, with over 50k on its own.

Finally, I want to talk about the future. Another 10th anniversary plan was to try and monetize the blog somehow, probably via a Patreon for new articles and such and many other ideas, maybe even doing YouTube videos to answer asks instead of them being all text. I have lots of other ideas too, but they'll have to wait until my arm works again. So instead of monetizing the future, for now I'm just going to ask y'all kindly to chip in for the blog's past. I'm amazed at how much activity the blog still generates from--let's call it "legacy content".

To that end, I have set myself up a kofi account where you can show your appreciation for that "legacy", kuwabara, kuwabara, if you'd like. All money earned will go towards paying down bills accrued during my recovery, like my hyperbaric treatments. In perfect honesty, it's been around 3000 US dollars so far. Don't feel obligated to contribute and thank you all for still sticking around with me despite my relative inactivity. And if course, continue keeping @sorenblr busy if you wish.

I would also not expect my own recovery before next year, that's just stroke for you. Thank you all!!!!!

p.s. I was featured as a stroke survivor again on another therapy facebook post:

[multi-fandomsfreak]

Madness combat trio proposal

(Hank J Wimbleton x reader, Sanford x Reader, Deimos x reader) ~Blaze/Dawn

Pronouns: They/Them

Warning: ⚠️Minor swearing⚠️

Requested: Yes/No

Characters: Hank J Wimbleton + Sanford + Deimos

Proof read: ❌

Credits: Icon by Rawan Rawan on Pinterest + Banner by ??? on Pinterest

————————————————

Hank J Wimbleton:

- I’m pretty sure Hank would know pretty quick when they are in love not instantly but will catch on quickly

- He would suppress his love for you especially with this current situation with Nevada

- But eventually you notice their weird behaviour and decide to confront them about it

- You managed to convince them to admit their feelings about you and he admitted that he was scared about your reaction but you ensured them that you feel the same to which he was happy for once in his life

- Ever since then you two have been protecting each other’s lives and make sure neither of you two were hurt

- After the whole Nevada thing you and Hank had been more vocal about your love for each other

- For a while Hank had been thinking about proposing to you for while but they just didn’t know how

- Since he didn’t know what to do they decided to ask Deimos for help which was a bad idea since he decided to tease Hank for it

+ “Oh you want love advice from me well then I can definitely help ya buddy”

+ “Deimos please don’t make it worse and just help me”

+ “Alright then what you want to do is take them somewhere nice somewhere romantic and just tell them”

+ “…that’s it?”

+ “I don’t know what else to say”

+ “Well your much help”

+ “No wait don’t ignore what I just said because I don’t know what else to say”

+ “Just i think it be best for you two to be together at a somewhat peaceful place and just say it”

+ “*sighs* guess I’ll try thanks”

+ “K bye good luck buddy”

- Hank just smiled a bit at Deimos and went to visit you

- Hank did what Deimos said surprisingly because they didn’t know what else to do to which they actually had a good time and for once didn’t regret asking Deimos for help well for the most part

- Eventually the time came he needed to tell you but he was absolutely shaking about it they were so nervous he managed to confess to you I’m pretty sure proposing wasn’t that hard

+ “Y/n I need to tell you something”

+ “Huh what is it Hank?”

+ “You know I love you right?”

+ “Yes? I’m I doing something wrong?” You asked nervously

+ “No no your not just let me explain” Hank took a deep breath in

+ “Y/n, my love, your the best person I could of asked for even throughout the whole ordeal a while ago you had stay by my side and for that I have to ask”

- Hank went onto one knee and asked

+ “Y/n will you marry me?”

- You felt tears coming from your eyes Hank was proposing to you

- You nod your head in reply and Hank put the ring on you finger

- They hugged you as soon has the ring was placed on your finger since he was shocked at your reaction

Sanford:

- I feel like Sanford would also be quick to notice his emotions for you but not as quick as Hank

- He definitely appreciate you as a friend don’t get him wrong but he didn’t realise his feelings until Deimos teased him about you two being a couple until it hit him

- Maybe he is in love with you?

- That was when he made it his mission to confess to you and propose to you If you do accept his feelings

- He was going to tell you at some point during the Nevada disaster but he kept getting distracted

- Eventually after the disaster while the two of were accepting he just blurted out his confession

- It shocked you at first but you did accept his confession to which he thanked you and gave you a hug

- Next mission: marrying you

- He be planning proposing as soon as you accept his confession well not straight away of course (at least he’s prepared I guess)

- He managed to find a place for just you and him and to just relax

- Eventually he decided to propose

+ “Y/n can I tell you something?”

+ “Sure go ahead Sanford”

+ “I don’t really know how to do this so I’m just going to be straight with you”

+ “Y/n I love you, you're the best, I’m not sure what I would’ve done if I hadn’t met you and…” then he started to ramble about everything perfect about you

+ “Sorry but can you get to the point”

+ “Oh right sorry” Sanford chuckled realising he was ranting

- He took a deep breath in and went onto one knee and said

+ “Y/n would you marry me?”

- The moment that Sanford said that you felt some sort of happiness come over you and said yes

- Sanford happily put the ring and gave you a kiss and hug

Deimos:

- I’m sorry Deimos Stans (I’m one too so I can say this) but he’s kind of dumb despite him claiming to be a love expert he can not tell for shits that he loves you unless someone points it out

- And those people being either Hank or Sanford (most likely Sanford) it probably go something like this:

+ “Jeez Deimos if you like them so much just marry them already”

- Then he was like “wait fuck” “maybe I should?”

- Now that he final realise his feels his for you he’s been trying to impress you so you can catch on and confess to him but instead you thought that he was just being his normal self since he does this on the daily

- It kind of frustrates him so eventual he just tells you that he likes you and the reason he’s been doing this is so you can confess to him

- In response you just chuckled and said that he could of just told you because you feel the same

- To that he just laughs in embarrassment but thanks you anyways for accepting

- Hope you guys are touch starved or love being close to people because this man is clingy as fuck he will and can hug you 24/7 and compliment you and make sure that you are giving all the love and the attention you deserve

- Anyways on to the proposal

- Deimos isn’t your typical guy remember how i said that he’ll make sure you are giving all the attention and love you deserve

- He will take you to the most romantic ass restaurant and treat you like a god/goddess or whatever terms you prefer

- After all of this he will just tell you straight up

+ “y/n i need to ask you something”

+ “Huh what is it?”

+ “There’s a reason i did this, you know i love you with all my heart and i want to be with you for the rest of my life so i want to ask you”

- You saw deimos go on one knee and say

+ “y/n would you marry me?”

- For once in deimos life he was actually nervous he knows you but still he’s afraid that you’ll reject him

- But he heard you say yes and he immediately looked at you and put the ring on you and gave you the biggest hug and kiss you

- After that he went to hank and sanford and rambled about how you accepted his proposal

————————————————

[writerscafehub]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀: 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞

@fluffyprettykitty

From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

I would give it a solid three, I think I write simplistic and descriptive enough to give a good story out there. 

What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

I think the length? I have lots of people compliment me on my ability to write a conclusive drabble and short shorties and poems have always been my favorite to read.

Are there any writers that inspire you?

On Tumblr, I have been inspired by the first people who introduced me to fandom and taught me how to use my writing abilities. Some have deactivated by now but my most prominent writing inspiration is @outerspacious. 

What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

Oh, it has to be my Layla story. Together. In a way, the story describes everything I have ever hoped for regarding a f/f relationship, like the dream of living with your loved one somewhere where you can only acknowledge your love in specific places.

Which character(s) do you find easiest to write and which do you find most difficult to write?

Oh, it’s so easy for me to write for Sam Wilson of course, and Frank Castle, Matt Murdock, Selina Kyle, and Brunnhilde. The most difficult is Gamora unfortunately, I would love to write more about her but I feel like I don’t have enough material to grasp on.

Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

Love of course, first loves, falling in love, falling out of love, & a healthy dose of some toxic relationships.

Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about!

Very Excited about this toxic love kind of story I’ve been brewing in my head for a while now. Something about equally drawing energy over each other without ever acknowledging they are the one you need/want more.

First fandom you ever wrote for?

Beyblade! A thousand years ago when I was a teen <3

Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

Once again I love writing about toxic relationships using people and completely draining someone out of their emotions. Maybe to get over past experiences cause it’s fun to explore “forbidden” feelings but it’s a fun process to write from that perspective. 

A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

Hmmm, I never liked the soulmate trope I guess. 

What is the wildest fic you’ve ever written?

Okay not here, but back in the Beyblade fandom I sued to write/keep the diary of one of the players and it was full of wild shenanigans and insane things that happened to him every day and it was just completely unhinged. 

Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

Any character I fancy x me is and will always be my favorite pairing cause I write for me <3

Do you listen to anything while you write?

I try to! I got some specific playlists for some characters such as Bruce Tony or Matt and then I got others I searched for based on vibes for the story I wanted.

One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

One shot. 

Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

I have! I had this whole thing in my head when I wrote ‘Party Tricks’ to sort of have the reader experience each one of the Avengers I guess in different situations and a couple of other ideas that have been lost in the void that is my brain.

15. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

Ugh so many. I have some stories I have experienced that I want to turn into fics but I’m too shy to do it, unfortunately.

17. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

Whenever I write about Bruce Banner I get the best compliments from some lovely people who you know just get *it* get the obsession. 

Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

I always try to push my comfort zone a little, the things I enjoy are limited so I always try to think in a way of the audience, of the other side, just look at anything a little more round rather than straightforward. It’s something I’d encourage anyone to do sincerely.

Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

Oh, fluff for sure. For me, angst is only for that one day a month when you need to feel everything, fluff is my daily dose of happiness.

Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

I don’t have OCs but I would love to venture into that at some point in my life.

If you could enter the universe of any one of your fics, which would it be and why?

Honestly, any fic, all are unique in a way and I just wanna get an in you know. But mostly I’d love to enter any kind of vamp au I’ve made, I feel like I’d get to know such a new and interesting kind of life.

Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

I need to write the main thing in under one hour typing fast, no distractions, just pure focus. I guess learning what someone’s writing style is like teaches you a lot about that person and the sort of the fic they choose to write. But mostly I need to have the idea so vividly inside my head before I even attempt to write it, I can’t write a sentence per day, it needs to be at least 600 words.

Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

From Human Connection

He was yours yet not at all at the same time.

Until one dark rainy night, he held your throat within the palm of his hand staring down at you asking you what you wanted from him. 

And you didn’t reply. And your heartbeat rose and rose. 

But he knew what to do to make you talk. 

And when he crushed his body against yours, you knew. 

You knew how people connected. 

And within the time you’d explain to him who you were and what happened to you and he would swear on his life that no harm would ever be done to you again. 

And then you became one of these people you used to so closely inspect. 

Then you became his.’

Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

You need to try to write about everything you dream of, no matter whether you’re going publish it or not or show it to a friend, I think many people can write and just are afraid to do so. Fandom and Tumblr give you such an opportunity to explore yourself and your talents through something so simple as dreaming about a character and writing about any situation. I wish more people weren’t afraid although the lack of acknowledgment from the audience is draining, finding friends and good people in fandom is a possibility, and joining incredibly well-mannered servers helps you even more! 

[best-type-moon-couple]

The Winner of the “Best Type-Moon Couple” Tournament is…

Gilgamesh and Enkidu (52% of the Vote)

[Congratulations for the Runner-ups, Mr. Sakamoto Ryouma and Mrs. Sakamoto Oryou, who came close with 48% of the Vote]

Thank you so much to the 502 people who voted in the final poll, as well as everyone else who participated/nominated/followed this tournament. I appreciate every single one of you and hope to see you next time I do something like this again. Until then, thanks for voting, see you whenever there’s a next time!

Letter from the Mod (Under the Cut):

Introduction:

So… uh… been a while since we talked like this, completely nervous, unprepared tournament mod to the hundreds of thousands of potential listeners and followers of the poll. Well, now that it’s over, I want to introduce myself.

Hi, you can call me Snow. I’ve been a Type-Moon fan for about a year now. I got into this series when my cousin introduced me to “Fate” and from there I started to grow on this series at an… large… unnormal… potentially problematic and unhealthy way.

“Where’d the inspiration come from?”:

When I got into Fate, the one thing that reached out to me were the characters themselves and their relationship with one another, and the more I looked into the nasuverse, the more characters that I found that I feel in love with, the more I started to hate, the more I started to have convoluted and mixed feelings towards, but the one thing I loved about most was how characters interacted with each other and how well, or unwell, they get along and nothing else can show my love and appreciation for character dynamics than the couples of Type-Moon.

The couples of Type-Moon range anywhere from being weird to comical to sad to disgusting to wholesome and even genuinely life changing, with the characters themselves having dynamic that either showed how much they pine for love, how love broke them, how love managed to fix them, or by simply how wholesome they are. When Samurai Remnant released and featured a character who loves their spouse very much that they make it their main focus in game, juxtaposed by their spouse still showing their love and devotion for them, it was the thing that eventually caused me to make this tournament in the first place (they weren’t in the tournament though, but it’s the thought that counts).

Running the Tournament:

I was completely sure that I wanted to run this tournament, but the main caveat was the fact that I never ran a tournament like this before and it became very clear, very quickly that I had no idea what I was doing (the potentially weird rules for the tournament and the delayed start times were a big red flag of this, so I’m glad we had so many people stuck around despite that).

Still, I wanted to do my best for this tournament, so I created everything myself (with my sister helping to find a tournament bracket website). And when I mean everything I mean I edited together the main banner of the blog and edited together most of the couple portraits (I got lazy and used official art for some of them, guess which ones)

What’s next?:

Honestly, I want to do another tournament sometime. Obviously not immediately since I also want time off, but I’d also want to do something else and see more people come together to vote on something we all may or may not enjoy. And while I have no ideas at the moment (if you want to give any ideas then feel free to share then through the askbox or through the submission box) but maybe this blog will go through a renovation when I figured something out, hm?

Want to see what I do?:

Well, in case you wanna follow me specifically, then you can follow my personal blog (@player-blandon) for more of my personal things or things I post about games I like sometimes. I don’t post there consistently, and when I do it’s probably, mostly, shitposts unless I’m live-blogging a game I’m playing through or (in the most recent post’s case) doodled something I wanted to share. It’s the place where I share things sometimes and hopefully it’s a place where I can talk to all of you about some stuff as well (chances are I’m going to be posting more fate and type-moon things after this tournament).

Closing Thoughts:

Honestly, this tournament was a bigger undertaking than what I originally thought, but I’m glad I did this. I consider it a learning experience.

Thank you all once again for participating in this tournament. Congratulations to the King of Heroes and his only friend for winning and good job Ryouma and Oryou for putting on a good fight. We all put in a lot in this tournament and I hope to see you all again when I do something like this again…

…until then, I’ll see you whenever I can. Goodbye everyone. See you later!