#could not care less how the glasses were i just needed them on his face

[writeforfandoms]

Fast Car 3

Find my Simon Riley masterlist

The end of the last planned fic for the zombie au! Not to say I will never write more, because who knows...

You start to find a new normal in this town. It's... different. But in a good way.

Warnings: Swearing, flirting, these two are bad at communicating, bit of one upsmanship in terms of flirting, feels.

Word count: 1k

Over the next week, you explored the entire town. Word spread fast that you were a mechanic, which had people asking you about all kinds of things. 

You really weren't sure how exactly how a clock worked, but you tried fixing it anyway. 

It worked well enough. That seemed to earn you a reputation, one you'd be happy to run with. 

Except Ghost followed you. Every. Single. Place. You went. He followed you into town every day, a silent shadow stalking you relentlessly. He never said a word to you, didn't even try to be friendly. 

By the third day of this treatment, you weren't sure if you hated Ghost… or wanted to jump him out of sheer frustrated attraction. 

The feeling did not lessen with time. Which left you glowering at Ghost every time you spotted him lurking about, even as you ignored any pooling heat between your legs. 

Look. He was an ass, but he was a good looking one. Big, strong, clearly able and not afraid to throw his weight around. 

And if that was it, you probably would have been able to ignore your attraction to him. There were other good-looking single people in town after all, you could have found someone else to pursue. 

Except he was kind, in small ways. A group of three children swarmed him, clearly used to him and not at all afraid. He took turns picking up the kids and dangling them by their ankles, much to the kids delight. 

You watched all of this from a garage, working on breaking down an engine to pull fluids for the truck. 

The second Ghost looked over at you, you lifted one oil-streaked hand to wiggle your fingers at him. Mostly because you liked poking the metaphorical bear. You refused to be afraid of him. 

(And it was easier to poke fun at him than it was to face your growing attraction to him.) 

He just looked back to the kids, saying something to them before leading them away. Back towards town, probably. You wouldn't be surprised if he didn't trust you around kids. He didn't even seem to trust you around inanimate objects.

You scowled. Damn. Well, guess you weren't allowed to get distracted anymore. 

But you thought about how gentle he could be. Too often for your sanity. 

You blamed the zombies. 

Now if only he'd be less of a jerk… you'd be in real trouble. 

It wasn't long until you were elbow deep in the truck again, alternately whistling and swearing as you worked, oil on your hands and sweat on your face. You surfaced to grab a rag, sort of cleaning your hands so you could get a drink. Gaz's girlfriend was too nice to create extra work for, so you were careful not to dirty the glass, grabbing it with the rag.

Ghost emerged from the house, wearing just a t-shirt and carrying an axe. You paused in your work to watch him, curious. 

You were not prepared for him to set up within easy viewing distance, splitting logs for firewood. 

You nearly spilled your water. 

Fucking hell. That was just not fair! 

You looked down at yourself, considering. You weren't done working yet. You'd have to bathe later anyway. 

Might as well make a show of it. 

It only took a moment to peel off your outer layer, tossing it aside and leaving you in a sleeveless bottom layer. One sneaky look confirmed that Ghost was still working, setting up the next log to chop. So you got back to work, too. 

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and you pulled yourself away from the truck, surprised to see it had gotten darker. Clouds covered the sky, the temperature dropping quickly. 

You swore, more colorfully this time, and grabbed your things quickly. You needed to run back to town, to get inside before it started pouring. 

You closed up the car at light speed, aware the car had a garage and would be fine. You didn't even bother to dress properly, just ran for the path towards town. 

You hadn't made it far when a shout of your name made you pause. You half-turned to look back, finding Ghost approaching rapidly. 

“What?” You asked, a little irritable, glancing up at the sky almost nervously. It hadn't opened up yet, and mentally you begged the rain to hold off just a little longer. 

“Faster to come inside,” Ghost offered, stopping in front of you. Closer than he normally stood. Close enough that you could see he was still breathing a little hard with exertion. 

“I'll make it home,” you said, not at all sure of that fact. 

“Come inside.” This time, it sounded more like an order. 

You crossed your arms over your chest. “No.” 

Ghost sighed hard through his nose, muttering something that sounded like “stubborn”. “Please.” It was the single driest, least plea-like word you'd ever heard in your entire life. 

“I'll just go home.” 

The sky chose that moment to ignore your own, much more sincere, pleas. The first fat raindrop landed on your nose, and then the torrential downpour started. Everything got drenched within seconds, you included. 

“Just come inside,” Ghost growled, one hand out between the two of you, though he didn't touch you. 

“Why?” You hadn't meant to say that, but you didn't retract it either. You lifted your chin, blinking rapidly against the onslaught of rain. 

Ghost didn't say anything for a long moment. Then he grabbed you, hand fitting perfectly to your waist, pulling you close until he could kiss you. 

Everything around you ceased to exist. The rain didn't matter, the chill seeping into your skin didn't matter. Nothing but the feel of his lips against yours, the little chafe of his stubble against your skin. 

You opened your eyes slowly to find him close, the brown of his eyes dark in the rain. He didn't say anything else, letting his actions speak for him. 

“Okay,” you agreed, a little fuzzy, running hot despite the cold. “But I'm calling the shots.” 

That was the first time you ever saw him smile at you.

[cakerybakery]

“So why are we here, again?” Lucifer questioned, looking up at Adam from his seat on the bench next to him.

Adam used his soda to point at Alastor with a knife, hunting down one of the animatronic victims at mall’s Murder Zone Arcade. “He’s been all cagey and aggressive lately, so I figured he might have some fun at the murder house. Maybe even make a new friend since Charlie says he’s been more distant than normal since I nearly killed him during our fight.”

Alastor laughed manically as he plunged his knife into the animatronic human’s heart repeatedly and some prize tickets spewed out.

“Well, he does look like he’s having fun.” Lucifer winced as the realistic blood sprayed across the floor. “But why are we here?”

“You know your kid can’t stomach this place, and if he goes off the rails too much he needs someone that can reign him back in before he starts destroying shit he’s not supposed to.”

“Right. Do I have to stay here the whole time, or…?”

“Go on. Just be back in an hour. I want to go check out the music store.” Adam called after Lucifer as he took off to check out the theme park in the mall.

It took a few hours for Alastor to wear himself out and Lucifer was itching to go home so Adam grabbed his shopping bags and boyfriend so they could go up to the fence that marked the arcade’s outdoor zone from the rest of the mall.

“Time to go, Al.” He called and Alastor looked over from his conversation he was having with another serial killer about stabbing techniques to get the most out of the motion.

Alastor glared at him but said his goodbyes and desolved into a shadow that moved across the floor and under the fence to he could reform by them.

“You have a good time, kid?” Adam asked as they walked towards the exit.

Portalling back to the hotel in the mall was rude, according to Lucifer. It inconvenienced others and sometimes they accidentally walked through the portal and Lucifer would have to send them back. It was better to do it outside.

“It was an enjoyable day, I must admit. Although,” Alastor jabbed his cane into Adam face, “I don’t recall changing my mind about the nicknames, Adam.”

He snorted at the threat and pushed the cane out of his face, “right, I forgot. Sorry about that, Alastor.”

Alastor was only about a hundred years old but he thought he was so grown up. Of course, Adam had thought the same when he was that age.

‘The folly of youth.’ Adam chuckled to himself.

It was funny. Back in heaven he thought himself as young and hip. The cool dad. In hell he felt a little more his age. The grey strip in his hair probably helped. As did the reading glasses he started to need.

These days he looked at sinners as less of degenerates and more like kids fumbling around trying to figure things out, but that was probably Charlie’s fault. All her preaching about sinners having made mistakes and if they truly learned and wanted to be better didn’t they deserve the chance to try and better themselves?

He supposed they might. If they actually wanted to be a better person, if they actually put in the effort to better themselves, souls were eternal. Always capable of change. Took falling for him to realize he wasn’t just inherently doing good because he was an angel.

Of course some folks didn’t want to change. That was fine. Alastor seemed one of the sort that wanted to be in hell. That relished in causing pain and destruction. But not everyone was happy in hell.

When you took away hope, when you made bettering yourself pointless, you got people that stopped caring. That stopped trying. That just tried to survive and live their afterlives the only way they knew how.

Adam wondered a lot these days about his fall. Which of his actions were wrong. Was it just the big things, were there little things? When he was alive could he have done better by his kids? By Eve?

Probably.

He did his best with what he had at the time. It was good enough to get him into heaven, but he believed that made him perfect. There was a lot of that in heaven. He was never forced to look at himself as he truly was. An imperfect being that made mistakes sometimes. That hurt others sometimes.

What was the difference between him as an angel and an average sinner? The scales tipped him just enough to give him a halo and wings. He’d done just enough right to make it before the pearly gates.

How many monster in hell were not born but made? How many sinner could have been saints if they had different chances in life? One can talk about choices but if the choice is to steal or starve, is it a choice? Why is it a sin to survive? Not everyone is some poor, if only they had other options, but not everyone is unrepentant either.

Sinner or winner most everyone is somewhere in between.

Charlie was looking for the saint in the sinner. Maybe what she should be looking for is what’s tipping the scale towards hell instead of heaven. A bit more reasonable than just blinding throwing darts at a target and hoping she stumbles into how to reform someone. She already knows not everyone is looking to go to heaven. She’s just having trouble instilling hope in the hopeless. In reaching those that have a chance of being reformed.

Lucifer and Alastor were already starting to get on each other’s nervous by the time they made it out to the sidewalk.

He handed Lucifer his bags then flicked both of them on the back of their heads. “Knock it off you two. Alastor stop trying to antagonize Lucifer. Lucifer stop being antagonized. You’re like a million years old. Act like it.”

“Yes, you should be a good example for- OW!” Adam flicked Alastor again. “Would you cut that out?!”

Lucifer laughed and Adam flicked him too.

“Enough.” Adam scolded. “You two. I swear I’ll leave you at home next time Lucifer.”

He gasped, “but the train!”

One of his boyfriend’s weird obsessions was the train at the theme park in the mall. Adam didn’t get it, but it made the guy happy.

“Then behave. Let’s head home.” Adam waited for Lucifer to open the portal and turned to Alastor. “would you like to help me make supper? I was thinking steaks. Got some deer in the freezer I can toss on the grill to warm up for you. Be like it’s still alive.”

That seemed to work and his smile reached his eyes when he agreed.

Maybe next time they could come as a group. Niffty would probably like the Murder Zone Arcade too. The others would likely prefer the theme park.

Could be fun. He’d have to suggest it to Charlie later.

[heirtotheempire]

apparently y'all like my art more then my text posts so (tosses to yall)

dumb thrawn (2017) edit under the cut

[bunnys-kisses]

i have this little thought bouncing around in my head! single father simon. (a drabble)

*shrug*

simon ends up with his daughter winnie after her mother abandons her at his doorstep. he was the father, it was his turn to take care of her. simon could handle warfare, he could handle guns and sweat and metal. he could handle blood and bruises.

but a fussy newborn was a little too much for him.

enter you, it was your summer off from university and you were making extra money by babysitting for parents who couldn't afford weeks of posh summer camps. it was decent work and you were pretty good with them! so being concerned for your neighbour, simon's well being, you offered to watch winnie.

simon very well fell in love with you the moment you took the baby girl into you arms. winnie instantly got settled into your grasp, almost like you were her mother.

"what a lovely baby girl." you cooed, you looked at her with such affection already. you looked at simon and smiled, "she looks too cute to be yours." a playful jab.

you watched winnie while simon was at work. you didn't know what he did for work, but you tried not to ask too many questions. all you knew was that the checks didn't bounce when you cashed them.

but being with winnie for so many days had gossip go through the apartment building. you had a baby with simon? why were you in two separate apartments? where did the lovely newborn sleep? she SHOULD be sleeping with her mother (you).

when you tried to correct them, simon always said, "ah don't worry. we'll be havin' our own place soon enough!" his large hand snaked around your waist.

you just looked down at winnie who was sound asleep in her stroller. she couldn't care less who her mommy and daddy were. it wouldn't be hard to be the mother she'd otherwise be without, right?

that was the angle that simon too.

you'd make the most perfect mrs. riley. you were already taking care of winnie, but also him when he came home. you shouldn't be the nanny, you should be winnie's mama.

"she really loves you." simon remarked when you went with him to the pool.

you were in a one piece swim suit and you were making sure that the baby was out of the sun and had sunscreen on. you didn't want her to get sick or burned.

currently she was resting on your chest while you were in the shade. in your free hand you had a book in it and the other was on winnie's back. you said, "i don't know what you're talking about." as if you hadn't heard the comments from the little old ladies about how sweet you two looked.

"look like a real mama."

you looked to him and raised your eyebrows, "i thought i was the babysitter, mister riley."

simon placed a hand on your thigh then rubbed up and down, "nah."

it didn't take long for you and simon to get intimate. he asked you to stay because winnie had been having trouble sleeping. you two shared a glass of wine and then you found yourself face first into simon's bed. the scent of him filled your head as he fucked you into the comfortable mattress.

he loved the sound of your pussy as he fucked you without much abandon. the thickness on your hips would only grow once he made sure his next child was inside of you. you'd be such a good mama, unlike that previous bitch who left him.

maybe there was a good reason why she left him.

cum clung to the fuzz on your pussy lips and was a bitch to clean in the shower come morning.

he woke you up and said, "she needs her mama. she gettin' fussy, doll." then watched you stumble around to find clothes to wear while you checked on winnie as if the little girl was your own. his hand was wrapped around his cock. he wondered how many more times he could finish in you before you stumbled back to your apartment.

the answer was four.

it wouldn't be easy carrying for a sprouting little baby plus the baby boy you were currently pregnant with. you've put school off for a little while and moved in with simon, your due date was in the middle of the semester. now you were trying to figure out what food was good for a teething winnie while also trying to manage the riley son that was occupying your womb.

you were making dinner for your growing family with a cute little maternity dress of. simon was at the table with winnie. he knew that one day he'd have to tell her that you weren't her actual mama. but you were raising her and her little brother too.

"see there's mama." simon said in that grumbled voice of his, pointing in your direction.

you didn't imagine that you would've ended up as a stay-at-home mother to two children who were than a year apart. but as you felt the shift of your 'second' baby inside of you, you smiled.

you heard winnie make a little noise to get your attention. you checked on the pot of sauce on the stove before you turned away to check on your little girl.

[luveline]

spencer x reader where she kisses his forehead and he’s 🥹🥹

“Spencer, are you dead?” 

Spencer ignores your question by accident. Heavy head in hand, he’s slowly sinking closer and closer to the hotel breakfast table to rest. His neck twinges with the effort it takes to stay up. 

“Spencer,” you say more sharply. 

His eyes track like the air is honey. He settles on your sluggishly while offering no greeting, tiredness pulling at him. “My eyes hurt,” he offers. 

“Make you some tea.” 

“Um, okay.” He’s disappointed when you leave, then dozing, face pressed to his desk as itchy eyes press along lids. It feels as though his eyelashes have turned inward. 

You return with a cup. Spencer grabs it blindly, lifts his head to squint one eye open. “What?” he asks. 

There isn’t tea in the cup. There are tea bags, two of them, wetted and leaking tan beige along the white china of the mug. Distinctly no tea. You must be tired too. 

“They’re for your eyes, Spence. They’ll make your eyes hurt less. The caffeine restricts your blood vessels to calm the inflammation, and the tea itself soothes sore skin.” 

“How do you know that?” he asks. 

You rest a hand on his shoulder. “I read about it in a book of modern home remedies. It really works. Here, can you tip your head back?” 

Spencer is very, very tired, but your voice is nice, your fingertips gentle against his neck, so he tips his head back. He doesn’t know how terrible he looks, having forgotten his untucked shirt, his rumpled sweater vest, his hair sticking up all over the place. 

“Close your eyes,” you murmur. 

Spencer shuts them. 

“It’s cold,” you warn, “but it’ll feel nice.” 

Spencer doesn’t care. He waits for you to move. The tea bags you place on his closed eyes feel cold and at first they sting just a touch, perhaps tea finding its way through his lashes, and he can’t confess to noticing a difference in soreness. 

“Hey… what’s this? It looks like it hurts?” you ask, drawing a short line over the side of the bridge of his nose. There’s an indent there that feels like a bruise.

“I fell asleep at my desk with my glasses on,” he says. “They dug in.” 

“You were up late, I’m guessing. Maybe you should go back to the room.” 

“No, I can’t. I’ll be okay. Thank you for the… tea.” 

Your hand rests tentatively against his cheek. He can’t open his eyes to see what you're feeling, and he doesn’t need to. There’s emotion to be felt in your slow strokes, how your thumb rests along his jaw as your nail scratches to the top of his ear, then behind the shell of it. It’s intimate enough to summon a different kind of tiredness. Exhaustion swapped for content. He could sleep in the curve of your palm all day. 

“You’re welcome,” you say. “I’m gonna take them off for a second to check the damage.” 

You take them. Your breath draws near. 

A warmth presses to his forehead atop his left eyebrow. Spencer doesn’t know what it is until your nose graces just above it, and your lips part —it’s a kiss. You’re kissing him sweetly, your fingers sewing through his hair. 

He peels his sore eyes open to look at you. You lean back as unhurried as you’d ferried forward, your hand cradling the nape of his neck. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask. 

Spencer stares up at you. In that moment, tired, aching, and balmed, he’s completely in love with you. You must see a little of it, your lips parting again in an unnamed emotion. It’s sheer luck that you’re the only one awake with him, because if any of his teammates saw the way he was looking at you they’d never let him forget it. And, he gets to see your reaction. Your partial smile. 

“Did that help?” you ask. 

You must mean the tea. “I feel better.” 

“Yeah? Do you…” Your voice turns to cashmere, a thread of bemusement tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Would another one be okay?” 

Spencer can only nod as you wrap your arms around him and position your mouth at the soft skin where his hair meets his forehead. When you kiss him again, his eyes flutter shut. 

“You really need some help with your insomnia,” you murmur. 

Spencer wonders if maybe you’d want to be that help. You must have melatonin in your kisses.

[hellfire--cult]

Harrington!reader who struck up a friendship with Billy after finding him crying. It wasn’t long until she developed a crush on the older boy. But she knew she was the least attractive girl in school, and on the cheerleading squad. Every girl was all over him, she never thought he’d see her that way.

Movie Night

I'm so sorry, I got carried away, and I made it super long, SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY AND I HOPE EVERYONE ELSE DOES this has: fluff, angst, mean brother persona on Steve's behalf, OOC Billy Hargrove, soft side.

wc: 8k (i got a lil inspired, no one requests Billy and I love to write him 😭)

Stupid Steve. Stupid school. Stupid fucking stereotypes.

You understand, you get it, the fucking sister of Steve Harrington should be the perfect girl, perfect as her idiotic brother. If only they knew that being in every single sport isn’t what Steve wants, it isn’t what he desires, it isn’t what he always dreamed about. 

But it’s not that perfection they want from you, oh no. It’s not your fault you have bad eye sight so you have to wear glasses, and for some reason that made you fucking undesirable. Just because you are wearing glasses, and you’ve been wearing them ever since middle school, where there were minimum problems with it, and now in high school when you just want to be able to date someone, or even kiss, it’s almost impossible because of them.

So yes, you knew people didn’t want to be with you, and you knew that it was all because of the idealization of the Harrington girl not meeting their expectations. Jokes on them, every single fucking guy in school looks like stepped on shit.

When you finally got into freshmen year, you already knew Steve was the most popular guy in school, always boosting about it at the dinner table, father always saying how proud he is for Steve being the captain of almost every fucking imaginable sport. You looked up to Steve, you really did look up to your brother… Until you crossed those forsaken high school doors, and the only face your brother sent you was that of disgust and turned his back on you.

And that sets your fate.

Now as a Junior, your brother finally graduates this year. Ever since he started dating Nancy who is in the same year as you, he has relatively changed. At home, he now tries to invite you to hang with him at the mall, or tell you to have dinner together when your parents aren’t home… You declined his invitation every time. You prefer to eat dinner in your bed, alone, while he drives away to be with Nancy. Just you, your books, and some good music. You are fine. 

It doesn’t help the fact that you have just one friend at school, and she’s not even always with you because she is Nancy’s Best Friend. Barb was always nice to you, and it’s the only one you talked to in class, because then in cheerleading practice, which you had to enter because you needed extracurricular credit because your parents said so, you were given the cold shoulder by every teammate there. You didn’t participate in the cheers really, you just wear the uniform every now and then and pass them bottles of water.

You just have to survive one year, just one more year and you can go to college, probably start anew, meet people, meet someone. You fixed your glasses on the bridge of your nose as you took notes while sitting at the bleachers, hearing the squeak of the tennis shoes of all the boys in the basketball team just going around. You hear a thump, making your eyes look up to see your brother laying on the floor, making you frown.

Then it made sense, as Billy Hargrove smirked, helping your brother stand up again. 

You knew that he wanted to take Steve’s position as the most popular guy at school, getting prom king and all that shit. You have heard your brother complaining about him on the phone sometimes, maybe to Nancy or to one of his friends. From what you’ve seen, Billy looked like a tough and irritating guy, and there is no need for you to get close to him at all, and you really could care less about what he does to your brother.

And that is basically your everyday life. Invisible, and you’re fine with that.

You’re fine. 

“Hey, can you believe that guy?” Your head snapped up to see your brother at your door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. You raised your eyebrow at him, looking back down at your book. “If he takes away my captainship in the team, I will– Dad will fucking cut my head off.” 

“That’s what you get for following his dreams from day one.” You mumble in a low tone, but he caught onto it, frowning at you.

“I have my own dreams. I don’t follow his.” You nodded at that while still not looking at him. You really could care two shits about all of this. 

“Maybe Nancy can help you with this kinda stuff. I'm busy.” You heard shuffling at the door and then a sigh. You heard steps and you raised your head to hear him slam his door shut, and you knew he was probably getting ready to go to a party or something because of the music he started playing on his radio. Not once you were invited to one of those, not even by your own brother. He had hosted parties before, and you were commanded to stay in your room all night. The only time you came out of your room was to the bathroom to pee, and even then you had to wait because people were always making out inside. 

You got up from bed, closed the biology book to then set it on your desk, looking over to your library of VHS’s tilting your head to check what to watch tonight. You picked Terms of Endearment and Sixteen Candles. Your collection was full of romance and dramatic movies because it’s just your favorite genre to watch. Same with your books, your favorite being Sense & Sensibility. 

Steve left after a few minutes, and you made your way down to start your Friday movie night, and tomorrow will be the same, next weekend too. You should get more movies, you are on a roll of rewatching stuff by now. But it was at this moment, when you put the cassette into your player, and you finally sat down and started watching Sixteen Candles that it all simply fell apart.

Your rough facade crumbles down as you see the romance of the characters on screen, the friendship that is displayed in these movies, late calls with friends, kicking your feet because the guy you liked kissed you, or even called you to spend time with you. You stare absentmindedly at the screen as you see the kissing scene finally happening and your fingertips brush over your lips, just softly, tracing the shape of them.

After a few hours Steve finally returns home, completely sober and cursing under his breath. He sees the light of the living room turned on and some blue light shining on. He walked inside to find you asleep on the couch with the TV still on. He sighed, walking over to turn it off but then his eyes looked at your form, making his face completely fall down.

He bent over your figure to see the dried tears on your cheeks, falling down onto the couch. He looked over to the coffee table to look at what you were watching, getting hold of the case. You watch the same movie every Friday night… And every Saturday night. He rubbed his mouth with a frown to his face as he looked back at your frame. And he always repeats the same action every Friday night and every Saturday night.

He stands up to grab the blanket that’s over the couch to put it over your body, and with tears in his eyes he bends over to press a soft kiss at the top of your head with a quiet whisper that he always repeats and that you never hear, not that you would believe him anyway.

“I’m sorry.”

Monday came way faster than you expected, and the morning was even quicker. Your parents were still away on their business trip, but Steve and you knew they were just out on vacation by themselves. Why have children when you just push them aside? 

You take out the lunch bag with your sandwiches in it, and you walk out of the school doors and into the football field which was deserted because it was lunch time, so it always gave you the best opportunity to head behind the bleachers to have some peaceful time for yourself, and that was until you almost dropped your bag as you screamed and flinched when you saw someone already there who snapped his head back at you.

Billy Hargrove.

Your breathing was heavy and your eyes were still trying to focus from the scare but as soon as they did you realized that Billy’s eyes were filled with tears, one or two might have escaped because you could see the glistening trail that they left behind on his cheeks. You were trying to talk to him, but then his eyebrows furrowed together, a tight angry look on his face.

“The fuck you looking at Harrington?” You flinched back at that, annoyance switching inside of you instead of fear. This guy was crying and has the audacity to sound threatening?

“Oh, right, sorry, it’s just seeing Billy Hargrove actually having feelings is a sight.” His eyes snapped wide at your response, surprise crossing his features while he stared at you this time. “Who’s staring now?”

“Oh, right, sorry, it’s just that hearing you fucking talk for once is a sight.” You were taken aback by his response, mimicking yours. You sucked on your right cheek in annoyance as he wiped his cheeks away.

“Well, off you go.” He snaps his head at you, a frown on his features to then letting a smirk spread on his lips.

“I came here first. You go.” You scoff at that, shaking your head at him.

“No, I always come here at lunchtime, it’s my place.” 

“Well, that’s lonely as fuck.” You know that. You fucking know that, he doesn’t need to say it to your face, not the heartthrob of the school. Before your heart could turn in pain you nod at him.

“Fine, take it for today.” You turn to finally walk away. Maybe you can eat at the picnic table in the forest? But sometimes the stoner would go there to deal, and you weren’t judging Munson really, you gotta do what you gotta do to survive. 

“Wait.” You stopped on your tracks and slowly turned around to see Billy slumping down on the ground, his back resting against a column of the bleachers while he rested his forearms on his bent knees. “You can stay here if you don’t tell anyone you saw me like this.” 

Who would you even tell this to? He might be scared that you would tell Steve about it, but Billy seems to not know you don’t actually have a good relationship with your brother, and you have just one casual friend in this school. You look in between the bleachers and towards the woods and then you look back at Billy, giving a sigh and finally sitting down with your legs crossed. 

It was silent between you two, almost uncomfortable but not quite. You were eating your sandwich and you took out a bottle of water out of your bag too. You glanced once at him, and he was looking at the distance, just breathing slowly. You wanted to know what happened to him, because he didn’t seem like the guy that would cry easily. He looked at you, raising an eyebrow up at you.

“Why do you eat here?” He asks and you clear your throat, taking a sip of your water.

“Why were you crying?” 

“Touché.” You gave a nod in understanding. You weren’t going to talk to him if he wasn’t going to talk to you. You looked inside your bag to grab onto the other sandwich, and you handed it to him. He looked at it with a frown and then back at you.

“If you’re here it means you didn’t eat. Basketball players need food.” You calmly say to him and he looks down at the sandwich, taking it from your hands, and then taking a bite out of it, grimacing in disgust.

“What the fuck is in this?” He looks down into it and you smirk at him, finishing off your own.

“Mustard and pickle sandwich.”

He ate the sandwich anyway. It was nice to eat lunch with someone for once, even if that person was Billy Hargrove and it would be a one time thing in your life… Though, it wasn’t. Billy was back behind the bleachers almost everyday after that. He wasn’t at all that persona that he was with everyone else with you. The cocky insufferable bastard you knew was all a mask, and you could see it when he told you about how Tammy Thompson tried to hide a fart with her cough in class.

“You’re fucking kidding…” You were giggling, covering your mouth as you both sat in front of one another, and the closeness slowly shrinking as two weeks went by of eating lunch with him.

“I am not, she actually thought it was discreet, but I heard it. Not that I said anything about it, but it was a total boner killer.” You raised an eyebrow at that, swallowing your apple that you were having as dessert.

“What, girls can’t fart Hargrove?” He rolls his eyes at you and then raises his hand to flick your forehead, making you wince and rub the skin he left in a red state.

“I didn’t say that. When you trust someone enough to do it in their face, sure. Not in the middle of class, and much less when you are a chair in front of mine.” At that you let out a laugh, throwing your head back. He chuckled and took a swig of his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side so it wouldn’t hit your face.

“God, I really don’t pay attention to shit like that.” You took another bite of your apple and Billy was still looking at you, clearing his throat, making you look up at him.

“What do you do on Friday nights? I mean, your brother is at every single party but you are nowhere to be found.” He asks you and you feel your cheeks flush slightly at that. You look down at your apple and swallow your bite.

“I often watch movies. Have my own movie nights, sometimes with popcorn, and if I am feeling fancy, S’mores.” You gave him a small smile as you took another sip of water but Billy was still looking at you with a frown to his eyebrows.

“By yourself?” And you suddenly felt embarrassment washing over you. How pathetic were you? He is a guy that has every student in this school eating at the palm of his hand, plans of going out somewhere almost everyday, a date every single night, and you just watched movies and read books for company.

“I– I have to go.” You suddenly blurt out, standing up abruptly to then wipe your jeans from the dirt of the floor. Billy was following suit, doing the same thing, and about to stop you, but you were already walking away. You didn’t need the reminder of how stupid all of your life sounded. You didn’t need it from him. You were always reminded of it by your father, saying that you should be more like his son. Your mother says that at her age she already dated someone and had tons of friends. Steve showing off his new relationship and friends to you, keeping you in the shadows from everyone.

You didn’t need more reminders.

So when you got home, and realized Steve was already out of sight, probably at Heather’s party, you took your time to shower, put on some comfy sweatpants, a white t-shirt and a gray hoodie, and you grabbed your movies and went downstairs. Maybe they will cheer you up from all the stuff that has happened with Billy today. It’s stupid, you both don’t talk to each other all day, yet at lunch you just talk non-stop.

Sweet popcorn was today’s choice and you were already salivating at the smell of it all. Once it was done you put it in a bowl and headed over to the living room, turning the TV on, and putting Pretty in Pink in your VHS. Steve must be getting drunk with his friends by now, dancing to Roxette or something like that. You popped a single popcorn in your mouth and you were about to press play but you were interrupted when glass knocking was heard from the sliding door to the garden.

You jumped up in fear, eyes widened as you quickly turned your head and saw Billy fucking Hargrove outside the doors. You blinked once, twice, three times. Wasn’t he at Heather’s party too? You stood up from your seat, blushing at your attire but he already saw you in it, no time to actually go change. You fixed your glasses at the bridge of your nose as you walked towards the doors to finally unlock them and open a side for him.

“What the fuck are you doing here Billy!” You almost screamed at him, but he raised his hands up in a surrender mode and chuckled at you.

“By that yelling I am assuming your parents are still gone. Let me in, I’m fucking freezing.” He walks past you and you scoff at the nerve of this man. You close the door and you see him looking around with his hands inside his black leather jacket. Your eyes trailed downwards for a second, taking in how tight his pants were, but you snapped out of it, walking around him so that you were facing him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask again and he simply shrugs, still looking all around your house. 

“Party was lame as shit, and you said there was a movie night here tonight. That seemed far more interesting than Tommy trying to do a keg stand and falling onto it, breaking his nose.” He walks to the couch, sitting down on it and he immediately grabs the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table. Your mouth hangs open again at this, going to the couch and sitting down next to him.

“You– I don’t need your pity.” You say to him, looking down at your hands as you played with the hem of the sleeves of your hoodie. He chuckles at that and shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, I don’t pity anyone. The party was really fucking boring.” He takes a popcorn in his mouth and he hums at the sweetness. You raise an eyebrow to look at him. You never thought Billy Hargrove would be on the sweet side of stuff. “So, what are we watching?”

A smirk formed on your lips. He was gonna fucking hate it, that’s what he gets for barging in your house.

Yet–

“I fucking hated Duckie.” You were wide eyed at him. He had paid complete attention to the movie, even giving small commentary that he really liked the fact that the girl stood up for herself. He turns to look at you, a frown coming to his eyebrows. “What?” 

“I just… I didn’t think you like this genre of movies.” You reply to him, a little bit nervous for some reason and he smiles at you and then looks back at the screen.

“I never watched one of these. They have a lot of plot, and they’re interesting.” Your eyes sparkled in excitement and you grabbed his shoulder, which made him look at you alarmingly.

“You’re in for a ride.”

Billy came back again the next day, taking the chance that Steve was out at Nancy’s for the night. He then sneaked into your room while Steve slept and you played Grease on your small TV and VHS that were on top of your dresser. He actually enjoyed it, but despised it because it was a musical. The next time, he actually came through the front door, and you both finally watched Sixteen Candles together. Now, Saturday Night, Steve was at Nancy’s for a family dinner and Billy was taking out two beers from the six pack he came with.

“I don’t drink…” You say to him and he raises an eyebrow up at you. 

“Daily or weekly, but you have tried alcohol. One beer is not going to kill you Sweetheart.” You nodded at that and you grabbed onto the can, sitting back down on the couch. You opened it as Billy walked towards you and plopped down with a huff, already taking a swig out of his can. You grimaced at yours and you took a tentative sip, lowering the can to look at him, completely disgusted by the taste and he simply threw his head back in laughter.

“Disgusting.” You say to him and he shrugs at you, sending a smile your way.

“It’s an acquired taste baby, you just keep drinking it, if you feel fuzzy you can leave it.” You felt your heart accelerate at him, feeling the butterflies exploding in your stomach. You didn’t know when your relationship with Billy took a turn for the better, but he actually sends a smile your way this time when walking down the halls, he sometimes greets you when you pass by him in the hallways, like he is not making it seem like he doesn’t know you.

So it was hard not to fall for him. It was undeniable at this point, and even if he was strong and mean, and an ultimate bully to everyone else, he comes here to your house, watches romantic comedies with you, eats popcorn with you, and you two talk about nonsense all evening. Nobody knows about this, and you’re happy to have this secret between the two of you. You can live in the fantasy a little bit longer.

“What did you bring?” You look at the cassette he got and you look at the front of it. You grimaced again and showed it to him. “The terminator?” 

“Classic sweetheart, it’s an action movie, you gotta expand your movie knowledge a bit.” You didn’t want to complain, it was the first time Billy suggested to watch something he likes, and in reality you were interested in knowing it, and hopefully like it the way he does.

News flash, you didn’t like it.

“Why are there so many guns?! It's unnecessary!” You complain, your beer gone and you do feel a little fuzzy but not too much. You just felt giddy. He laughed at your side and shook his head as he drank his second can.

“That’s what action movies are, baby, they are irrational, little to nothing of plot, and shooting everywhere.” He says and you sigh at that, shaking your head. The room filled with silence as Billy looked forward, his smile slowly disappearing. “You know why I come here often?”

You straightened at that, blinked with confusion as you turned to look at him. You frowned when you saw how serious he got, just out of nowhere, and your belly turned for him, not in a romantic way, but more of a worry kind of nervousness. 

“Because parties now bore you?” You ask him and he gives you one chuckle and then shakes his head, resting it on the backrest of the couch, looking at the ceiling.

“You help me distract myself.” He took a deep breath in as you kept looking at him and you knew it was something he was having a hard time talking about. “The day you saw me crying… I was actually afraid.” 

“What?”

“My father… Let’s just say he has– a rough hand. Any slip up I make, I just get a punch out of it… I’m just so angry all the time, so unlike my fucking self and who I actually am when I am at school. I just let out my anger towards people, because I cannot take it out on my own father.” You could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, and you knew he was trying to choke back tears as he talked. Your heart just knotted at seeing him like this, feeling helpless, not knowing what to actually tell him.

“Billy–”

“And you… I tried to be mean to you… And you actually had the guts that no one had at this school yet. Talk back to me.” His head turned to finally look at you again and your eyes burned at his confession. “I couldn’t be mean to you… With you I can— I can be calm, watch a movie, talk about how creepy that Creel house is and how we should sabotage it– I mean, the only thing I talk with the people from school? Chicks, sex, cars, alcohol.” 

You couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on your lips, turning your whole body to face him, your legs coming to rest on top of the couch too, bending them and resting your side on the backrest. 

“Well, I am glad I could help in some way… My house is always open for you Billy.” His eyes were just staring into yours now, the only thing being heard in the room were your breaths, until he finally talked.

“Can I kiss you?” 

What?

There is no possible way you heard that from him. This is a dream, it has to be a dream. There is no way Billy Hargrove, your now friend, your crush, the guy you like has asked to actually kiss you. This only happens in movies, in books, and it never happens in real life, at least, not to you. 

“W-Why would you want to kiss me?” And Billy’s features turned into saddened ones at your words. Don’t you realize how beautiful you are? He straightened up on the couch, his body turning to face you as well as both of your hearts jumped out of your chest.

“Why wouldn’t I want to kiss you?” was his short answer. Your belly turned in pure nervousness now as your body grew a cold sweat. You never kissed anyone, and Billy seemed to know how to do it, and you were just too inexperienced. A flush came over all of your body as you fixed the glasses on the bridge of your nose and you looked down to avoid his gaze.

“I– I never–” You gulped, not being able to finish the phrase from how stupid it sounded. A warm hand was pressed on your cheek, making you lift your head up to look at him again, and you didn’t realize how close he got to you, his blue eyes staring into yours.

“I ask you again… Can I kiss you?” And you finally give him a nod. You weren’t going to miss this chance, not for one second. He still wants to kiss you despite you not knowing what you were getting yourself into. He smiled at you and grabbed onto your glasses, pulling them off your face and setting them on the coffee table. “They were just going to get in the way.” 

You took a shaky breath in, his hand still on your cheek as he slowly leaned down towards you. You closed your eyes and his remained open to remember your features as he finally does what he has been wanting to do for the past weeks. At first it was a simple attraction of course, but he knew it was more than that, and he was scared as shit about it… But he never wanted someone as much as he’s been wanting you.

His lips connected with yours in a soft peck, brief, and you let a breath go out of your lips, only for another peck to land. Then another, then another that lingered there a bit more, and then the next one he just stayed there, and suddenly started moving his lips, guiding you as your heartbeat made you deaf in your ears. How do people do this and not faint at the spot?

The lip smacking was heard in the room as your hands finally were brave enough to travel, one scanning his bicep, the other one moving towards the back of his neck, feeling his skin under your fingertips. His free hand landed on your waist, not pressing too hard so that you know that he is being mindful of you. At this point, Billy would already be inside someone, satisfying his needs, but with you… He wasn’t going to do that, at least not now, not yet, and that is if you let him. 

He wants to take care of you.

He pulled away for a second, his lips touching yours still as your breathing mixed with one another’s in soft pants. You were feeling as if you were burning all over, not knowing what was happening with you. You never felt like this before, and maybe it has to do with the fact that not only was Billy good looking, but you also feel more than just friendship for him.

“You okay?” You nod frantically at him, wanting more, giving him a peck on the lips making him chuckle in a low tone. “Sorry baby, but I need more.” 

He suddenly pushed you back on the couch, crawling over you and you didn’t even think, you just wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and he kept his bottom half away from yours, even if it pained him on his thighs from the strength he was doing to keep himself up. His lips connected with yours again, rougher this time, more desperate, the kiss suddenly turning into a very heated one as he suddenly licks your bottom lip a few times.

The butterflies in your belly explode as you open your mouth and his tongue finally slides in. You gasp at the feeling, your hands finding his biceps through his blouse, and you felt his chain hitting your neck at every movement. One hand was still gripping on your waist, while the other remained at your nape, pulling you deeper into the kiss. 

You really can’t believe this is happening, not to you, not with Billy, it doesn’t make sense that he looked your way, it doesn’t make sense that he actually wants to kiss you, not when he has Heather on his tail all the time, or Carol even if she is dating Tommy. Or Janet. You always hear them talking about him in the bathroom, always planning their move on him, and this feels you with a sense of power, with a sense of accomplishment and pride in yourself. 

Your hands ran through his hair and he groaned into the kiss, and that ignited so many things inside of you that you never felt in your life, and you wanted to hear more of it. Billy was trying his best to keep himself in a hovering position with you, but he was finding it harder and harder to do so. He can’t go on, at least not today when it was your first kiss. He didn’t want to scare you, even if your urges were the same as his, because he could feel your need to pull him even closer.

The door suddenly clicked and both of your eyes snapped wide open, pulling away, looking at one another, panting heavily. Best scenario, it's your parents, and they would be thrilled that you actually, and finally, have someone over at your house… Now, worst case scenario–

“What the ACTUAL FUCK?!” You both sat up on the couch to look over at Steve, who was standing there in the living room, wide eyed, and his face reddened bit by bit. Shit.

“Steve–” You started talking but he raised his hand at you, to then point a finger at Billy.

“Get the fuck off my sister.” You wanted to roll your eyes at this, because why is he acting all protective now? You finally got some action in your fucking life and he wants to take it away from you.

“I don’t think she wants me to leave.” Billy dares to say, glaring at your brother who took a look at the coffee table, seeing the cans of beer. His mind started racing, and Billy followed his gaze, his mouth opening to talk but Steve was running up the stairs already. Your eyes widened and you pushed Billy off, standing up quickly and urging him to do the same.

“You have to leave!” You were trying to push Billy towards the front door but his feet were still planted against the floor with a frown to his face, and your head snapped to the stairs to see Steve running back down with his baseball bat in his hands. Billy’s eyes widen when Steve starts to approach him with a swinging motion.

“Taking fucking advantage of my sister is something I won’t take from you Hargrove, so get the fuck out of my house before I crush your skull in!” 

“Shit, Harrington– Fucking listen for a second–” Steve’s baseball bat hits the backrest of the couch, and you could see the dent of the wooden under it that he created. Billy ripped himself off you and gave you a look as if asking if you were okay.

“I’ll talk to him, you go.” You tell him and he gulps, looking back at Steve with a threatening look on his face which Steve only scoffed at.

“I’ll talk to you later.” Billy says with a small squeeze to your hand as he walks out of the house, passing by Steve. Your brother follows him to the front door and he doesn’t walk back inside until Billy drives away with his Camaro. After the roaring engine can be heard in the distance, Steve slams the door shut, throwing the bat at the floor and stomping back into the living room where you were standing there with a glare on your eyes as if you were about to kill him.

“When I saw his fucking car out in front of the house I thought it was a stupid coincidence, and I come in here to see you about to have sex with the sluttiest man in the goddamn school! What are you thinking!?” You frown in anger at that, stepping towards him.

“I am his friend! I wasn’t going to have sex with him, and he wasn’t taking fucking advantage of me! I drank ONE beer, ONE!” You yell back at him and he fake laughs as he runs his hand over his face.

“The first time you have a guy in this house, and it is Billy FUCKING Hargrove. The one guy that I am fighting with for Captain at our basketball team, the one guy that gives me the hardest fucking time of my life at the moment, and you want me to just accept that he wants to be with you because he WANTS TO?” Your chest hurt at those words, your own coming out in soft stutters at Steve’s blind rage.

“He even asked me if I wanted to, and I said yes–”

“God, you cannot be this fucking stupid! He hates me, makes my life a living hell, and you seriously think that he is a nice guy!? You really think there is no ulterior motive!?” He yelled at you and his words were stabbing you in every part of your body, your head already spinning from how harsh he was being with you.

“Why? Is it impossible that he actually wants to be with me?” You try to say loudly at him, even if your fingers start to feel numb. He scoffed at that, looking at you.

“Yes, and I don’t think you are dumb enough to not see that.” He was referring to so many other things, and it was regarding Billy’s persona, in Billy’s actions, in his rivalry with him… And when he saw your tear rolling down your face, his anger evaporated as if water was being thrown at him.

“Okay…” Was your defeated response. You turned around to retrieve your glasses from your coffee table and Steve winced, clenching his eyes tightly together as pain rushed through his body. 

“That wasn’t what I meant– Hey, listen to me, I really didn’t mean it to sound like that–” But you weren’t listening, putting the cassettes back into their cases and turning off the TV. You grabbed them and walked past him, going up into your room. Steve stood there, knowing he hurt you once again, not knowing what to do but run a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath as he started pacing back and forth.

He didn’t mean it to sound like no guy would want you, he didn’t mean it at all like that, yet the words coming out of his mouth betrayed him, completely. He doesn’t know how to make it up to you, because if he had given you the chance to go to the parties with him when you asked in your freshman year, many times, and told you yes instead of no, you would have more experiences, you might even have friends. If only he had let you come out of your room at his own parties when you asked him, almost begged him to let you participate, but he declined each time. Then in your sophomore year, you didn’t ask anymore, just accepted that he wasn’t going to tell you anymore about them, and you automatically locked the door whenever he hosted a party. 

This year, he tried to invite you, many times. You always declined. You didn’t even want to eat dinner with him, and he knows you want to leave the house as soon as possible thanks to him. Even with your parents. For the past two years he had been so blind because of his father’s approval and the one of all the students in Hawkins High that he didn’t notice how your parents didn’t ask you stuff at dinner. All questions were always directed to him. He noticed this year, and he tried to tell them you had nailed your exams, and the only thing you got from your father was ‘As she should.’

He was the cause of who you were now. Not at all the bubbly and animated girl that asked him to raise her up like an airplane in their backyard, not at all the small girl that put makeup on him pretending she was a stylist, not at all the middle school girl that got excited to see him whenever she got home from school to tell him about what she learned that day. 

He walked up the stairs and raised his hand to knock on your door, only to hear soft sobs on the other side, muffled. He wonders if you had also cried when he denied you all those times. He doesn’t know how to even make it up to you. He doesn’t know if he even can. 

So the next day, when you didn’t come out of your room, he let you have your alone time. Now on Monday he tried knocking on your door, only to receive the notice that you felt sick. He tried walking in but your door was completely locked. His eyebrows twitched and his mind had come up with a plan. A plan he will terribly hate. A plan that might end up badly for him. But it’s what he deserves for what he did to you. 

Billy looked everywhere for you, and even asked Barbara Holland where you could be. She told him that she hadn’t seen her at Science that day either, so his best guess was that you had skipped school. His jaw clenched when he asked other people about you and some of them didn’t even know what you looked like. He waited for the bell to ring, and he was going to tumble Steve down if he had to in order to see you. He didn’t care.

But when he walked out of the school doors to rush to his Camaro, he was surprised to see Steve Harrington sitting on his trunk with his arms crossed. Billy’s eyes hardened at the sight, walking towards him, tilting his head in question at the brown haired boy who was looking at Billy with a mix of emotions behind his eyes.

“Harrington. Get off my fucking car.” He says and Steve gulps as he looks to the side.

“I fucked up.” At that Billy’s eyebrows turned into a frown, but his fists started clenching as Steve kept talking, telling him everything, everything he did to you, and what he had said to you that night when Billy left. 

While this was happening, you were combing your hair after the shower you took while sitting on your bed. You had taken a shower because you were greasy from yesterday already, and you really didn't want to get up, but you didn’t have a choice. Ever since Steve said that, you didn’t have the guts to actually call Billy because at some far away place in your mind, it made sense. 

You were invisible, and suddenly you were noticed? It doesn’t sound real. 

So maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it really was to get into your pants to mess with your brother, and that was honestly the most reasonable explanation for it. You frowned when you heard the door open downstairs, your door was left open so you could hear some drawers being open, to then hear steps coming up the stairs. Your eyes widened when you saw Steve slamming himself against the door frame of your room.

His eye was completely inflamed from a punch received to the face, his nose was bleeding and he was holding some ice covered in a rug to soak the blood in it. From what you could see, his lip was busted as well and his breathing was coming out of his mouth, almost in a pant.

“Steve, what happened?” Even in your hatred for him, seeing him this way made your heart fill with worry, pushing all of the other feelings aside. You were about to rise from the bed until Steve raised his hand up at you.

“I deserved it.” He looked towards the hallway and your eyes widened when you saw Billy coming into view, a pack of frozen peas on his right hand, his eyes glaring at Steve as he passed by him and into your room. His eyes turned to yours and you couldn’t help but look up at him, completely stunned. Steve groans and closes the door for you two as he heads downstairs. 

“What… Did you…?” You stutter as you sit back on your bed, seeing Billy’s injured hand as he sat on your bed too, nodding as he looked at you.

“I sure as hell did. Fucker deserved it. He told me everything, from the very beginning, and also what he said to you on Saturday night right after I left.” You feel your face flush with embarrassment and you look down at your hands again. You are not understanding what is going on, nor why Steve would go and tell your life story to Billy. “Though I have to say… Your brother does care for you.” You scoff at that.

“Right. Like he cared for me the past two years.” You reply with venom in your voice and you feel Billy scoot closer to you.

“He knows. He knows what he did to you. Your freshman year was the punch on the eye, your sophomore year was on his lip… And what he said on Saturday was the one on the nose.” He lets out a chuckle and you feel mixed emotions to that. You were happy that he defended your honor, but Steve was still your brother and you didn’t want physical harm to come to him.

“Don’t punch him again… Please.” You slowly looked up at Billy and his blue eyes were already looking at you. Your heart rate picked up the longer he stared at you.

“Do you really believe what he said to you that night?” He asks you, a small worried tone behind his voice. You feel yourself gulp and you look away in embarrassment or nervousness, you no longer know.

“I– After years of feeling this way, it was a very possible scenario.” You say to him in a low voice, your fingers playing with each other. You see him put the bag of peas away, and his hands look for yours. You look down to see his right hand completely bruised up, some skin completely chipped off on his knuckles. You gasp at that and his hold gets stronger on you, making you look up at him. He was closer now, making your breathing get stuck in your throat. 

“How can I prove to you that I want you? How can I prove to you that I like you, that I like you very much that I drive myself insane with this fucking feeling, because god knows I am not good with relationships…” For the first time you see a blush come to his cheeks, and his gaze looks down at your connected hands, like how you do when you get nervous. “But I wanna try that with you.” 

Your heart leapt out of your mouth almost, not truly believing what was happening, but the bruised knuckles made it more real, the blush on his cheeks made you realize it was no dream at all. This man in front of you wants you, despite it all, and you both have so many broken pieces to pick up inside one another, but you figure that you can help each other. You can mend his heart back, as he can mend yours.

“I think… The first step would be a date…” You say to him almost in a whisper and he chuckles as he looks up at you. He squints slightly at that as if in thought as your smile grows on your face while looking at him.

“I have an idea for it. I think they are showcasing the new Rambo movie.” He says to you with a smirk to his face and your mouth fell open at that, shaking your head.

“I am not watching an action movie on our first date!” He chuckles at that, his face coming closer to yours slowly, and you feel magnetized to him as you both leaned into one another. 

“Oh, I bet you prefer the one where the bad boy goes for the intelligent and perfect girl, that genre, right?” You squint at him, pretending to be offended by his words.

“Don’t act like you don’t like those movies Hargrove.” At that he chuckles, his left hand snaking to the back of your neck to pull you closer to him, a soft breath hitting your lips as he talks.

“I might have a thing for romance.” His lips touched yours again, and you smiled through the kiss, your own hands resting on the back of his head to pull him deeper into the kiss, to taste him even better. Your lips moved along with his, taking in eachother’s breaths, bodies coming closer at each second.

“Don’t fuck my sister, I draw the line there. Not today, not with me here.” You both heard Steve’s voice behind the door, making Billy groan in annoyance and pull away from you to glare at the door as the steps could be heard and another door closes down the hallway.

“I am punching him again.” Billy says and you were glaring at the door too.

“My turn.”

A/N: Well shit, I hope you enjoyed. IT TURNED OUT TO BE A ONE SHOT.

[st4rbwrry]

   𝐾𝐼𝑆𝑆 𝑀𝐸 𝑇𝐼𝐿𝐿 𝐼’𝑀 𝐵𝐿𝑈𝐸.

꒰ armin takes his pretty girlfriend on a picnic in an enchanted forest.꒱

🫧 𐀔 . . . 1.4k. fem!reader, lowercase intended, established relationship, sub / dom, profanity, pet names, unprotected penetrative sex, we’re in luvvv, outside indecency, love bites, praise, kinda shy reader, smoking, kreampie, minors aren’t welcomed ! reblogs + comments are appreciated! <3

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ꒱ . . . this been in the drafts since 2022 y’all. a lil sum.

a pastel baby blue dress clings tight to your smooth skin, looking like the prettiest cottage core girl. frills on the shoulders and bust sitting low to accentuate your perky chest. love handles and tummy pudge swallowed by the soft material. armin couldn't keep his eyes, or hands, to himself. rubbing all up on you throughout your entire picnic date. fresh air blows through the trees and the bright views of sunlight beam across the blue lake where pure white doves swam in silence. armin had found this mythical location by driving around one day. it's quiet and reserved, deep into an enchanted forest.

the two of you sat on a blanket sprawled out on the grass, enjoying the food armin neatly packed. lots of fruits because you loved them. strawberries, raspberries, pomegranates, green grapes, apricots, and peaches . . . you name it. overdoing it just a bit, but he knows it’ll be eaten by this week. this was breakfast, the time now around eleven in the morning, so while you got ready he prepped the food. heart shaped pancakes, waffles, turkey bacon, pork sausage, scrambled cheese eggs and of course never forgetting your orange juice.

to make it cuter he brought a glass vase and filled it with water and multicolor roses he bought from the flower shop. you ate so much food your stomach bloated, unable to eat anymore. armin lays on his back with you to stare up at the sky and watch the trees blow, the weather perfect for the occasion. the sun hitting your skin serenely. you rest your head on armin’s chest, listening to his heartbeat as he massages your back in gentle circles, nearly falling asleep because you’re so at peace.

“i’m so glad we did this,” a yawn escapes as you smile sweetly at him, rubbing his stomach over his white tee.

armin presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering it before mumbling, “me too.” soon, digging into his jean pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. tapping the plastic box to release a stick. your body moves with the forearm he brings together to light his cig, flicking the lighter twice and satiating his need.

“i needed a break from life. so, thank you, love.” the softness in your voice makes the man's heart beat twice as fast. he smiles at you after turning his head the opposite way to blow out smoke, knowing you hated it in your face. being at close proximity right now was less irritating since you're elated at the moment. you could care less because he's comfortable, and it makes you feel the same. you could never get him to quit no matter how hard you tried. never argued with him about it. minor debates but he gave valid points so you laid off it.

“i figured it'd be nice to escape for the day. it's upsetting we have to return to reality tomorrow. but when i'm with you, it always feels . . . free.”

armin brushes a curved knuckle over your cheekbone, your eyes glued to his own.

“i feel the same way.”

“i say i love you all the time. but do you really understand it? how deep it is?”

you curl your lips inward, pondering on his question. more like a statement.

“i know you love me. you show it more ways than one. i think that's meaningful overall.”

fluffy blond hair with gold hues covers his angelic baby blue eyes, reaching up to tuck some of the wavy ringlets behind his ear.

“tell me you love me, then gimme a kiss.”

your face grows hot from his demand, growing nervous. you sit up briefly to grab a peach to bite into and distract yourself, more like hide your face because you were smiling so hard. this happens to be the second time since he's first told you he loved you. it makes you shy even still, the rush of heat coming to your cheeks from the intense glare he gives you, waiting for you to say it. you don't know why it felt so hard to utter. it's clear you love him, but maybe it was the large commitment of the word . . . the vulnerability, the devotion, the forever tie that scared you.

"tell me you love me, or i'll make you say it, ꒰♡꒱ ."

and make you he does.

his breath is warm on your neck, tongue following to lick a bold stripe over your skin with his fingers indented into the flesh of your cheeks and jaw. your face is upturned, head resting on his shoulder, back to his chest as you rely on his body for your balance. your thighs are spread wide, holding yourself open with your unoccupied hand, gripping under the bend of your knees, whimpering in the breezy air as his hips interact with the round of your ass, fucking you from the side fervidly. his moans are light, dancing in your ear while you claw into the picnic blanket beneath you two, clutching the grass and dirt in the wake. tuning into the lewd interaction of his heavy dick pounding into you, tits bouncing out of the enclosure of your dress.

“i can’t hear you, ꒰♡꒱,” armin grits his teeth, his lips on your jaw now, kissing away and grunting as he raises his hips to fuck you deeper, thrusts steady but rough. you’re feeling dizzy, whining from the baritone of his voice. “i didn’t make myself clear enough?”

“n-no. . . ar—min. mmph,” while denying, there’s a crack in your voice as you try your best to speak, moans rumbling in your throat, your tummy jiggling from his harsh pace.

“then tell me, tell me,” armin’s voice is a whispered plead, his jeans to his knees and his shirt pulled up to his midsection, skin scorching against your own.

you’re soft, and small. his big hand with veins protruding goes from your face to your chest, tweaking your nipples that spilled out of it’s cups alluringly, before spanking them with the pads of his fingers. tweak, spank, tweak, spank. it’s a notion that has you drooling, and sobbing pathetically. he’s trying to upkeep his composure, trying not to bottom out and lose his sanity. you’re too cute.

“i love youuu,” you finally cry out, ragged moans falling out in shorts gasps, tears coaxing and the pressure in your tummy building.

“fuck, there you go, sweetie,” his excitement shows through the way his dick slips out of you, both of you gasping from the loss until he slaps your clit with his dick, your juices sputtering out of you with each wet pat pat pat. armin draws his hips back slightly before sliding back inside easily, digging his fingers into the back of your thigh you held up and rolled his waist to fuck you harder.

each pound is harder than the previous, his jaw widening as he chokes on his moans and catches your throat with his mouth, tongue lolling out occasionally and his teeth following suit. your head is tossed back entirely, his arm going around your shoulder to cradle you, falling back on the ground. your thighs press tightly together, and you hold onto his arm while his middle and ring fingers thrum intricately over your puffy clit to watch her squirt.

armin hisses with skaken moan. “say it again, ꒰♡꒱.”

“i love you, armin.”

“again,” he’s biting at your neck again, your mouth agape from the combination of that and the head of his dick kissing your sweet spot.

“b-baby, g-god. i love you.”

“ooh, shit,” armin then pushes your left thigh flat to the ground, your body twisted as he goes to level himself above you in push up form, dropping his dick into you with steady, hard pounds. his voice grows weak, moans whiny as he cums deep inside of you, and you follow not long after, squeaking and clutching onto his wrist planted by your head. the softness of your ass bouncing back onto his hips is entrancing. his ass flexing when he grinds into your pussy.

“oh my god,” those pretty strands of blond sway in front of his face, giggling and lowering his body to rest his chest on your side. repeatedly leaving kisses to your flushed cheeks, neck, even your forehead. unable to move at all.

“i really love you, i swear,” the pads of your fingers brush over his pink lips, overly sensitive at the moment so you definitely felt like crying. a high pitched hiccup interrupts the moment, and that only makes armin roll his lips inward before bursting out a laugh.

“you’re so cute,” he gives you an eskimo kiss before smooching your lips. “i know you do.”

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life. 🫧🍓

[nvuy]

hijacked — boothill

summary. a mission to retrieve some files from a banquet hall goes wayward south when a galaxy ranger shows up to ruin your night—and score some bonus kisses while he’s at it.

notes. save me space cowboy… save me… remembered his entire body is robotic except his head. the possibilities to hack it and take over……….. ngh

HEY YOU!! there’s a sequel now.

warnings. little bit of threatening, mind control/hacking/hijacking? you take over his body for like a few minutes? is that a warning?

“Hey, pretty thing.”

Target locked. Your scanners had already tracked him before you could even realise he was speaking to you.

You swiftly hid away the USB drive in your purse.

Did he know?

It seemed his own eye enhancements—although a lot less subtle than yours—were scanning you down as well. How transactional. You’d hoped the walls you’d put up were enough to keep whatever technology he had at bay. Or at least, not trigger any alarms.

“You looked lonely. Was g’nna buy you a drink. Help you loosen up a bit.” He swished his own drink in your face for good measure. The coupe glass in his hands looked odd. He didn’t seem like a cocktail man. Not at all.

He looked like a whiskey man. Hard whiskey. With ice. In a tumbler with ribbed glass. You could picture it.

He just looked so out of place at the banquet.

He wasn’t even following the dress code. He was wearing boots, and a pair of old pants with zips along the calves. A hat with a white feather woven into the fabric rested on a head of long white hair with splashes of black around his face.

“No thanks,” you said with a wave. You tried to discreetly scan down his body, searching for any sort of hint of how you could get into his system.

His pants and what little material of his jacket hid most of the metal of his body. Internally, you cursed at it. He had no clear openings in his neck or arms. His head seemed entirely organic.

No weak spots.

“N’aww. Shame.”

The front door felt a lot further away now. Even more so, knowing he was most definitely here for you. He hadn’t even introduced himself yet. You had a feeling he knew he didn’t need to.

“Was g’nna ask ya to dance.”

You laughed awkwardly. “I can’t dance in these shoes.”

“Take ‘em off. Who cares?” he bantered playfully. “I’ll watch out for ‘em if they’re expensive.”

“They’re priceless,” you quipped back. “All of me is.”

“Good. You know your worth.”

You were actually worth about fifteen million, as according to your wanted status by the IPC. You weren’t sure if this man was a part of them, though members of the IPC were always very adamant on letting you know that, yes, they did work at the IPC. It was usually the first thing that came out of their mouths.

Questioning if they actually worked at the IPC opened another entire can of worms.

You didn’t feel the need to ask. Not in that moment, at least.

“And what’s yours?” you asked him with a bat of your lashes.

He winked. “Guess.”

You smiled and scanned him down again. “Depends. I’d have to see what you’re made of.”

“Naughty.” He leaned back against the wall with you. “You sure you don’t want that drink? It’s a cosmopolitan.”

Very sure. You were convinced that he’d just taken the drink from one of the server’s trays. You couldn’t imagine he’d walked up to the bar and requested it for himself.

“You strike me as a whiskey man,” you eased. It came past your lips like butter.

He flashed his teeth in warning.

Then, he sipped his drink. “You’re good. Anything else you can read with your fancy eyes?”

You stopped short.

He did know. It wasn’t a surprise, not at all. He wasn’t entirely human. He must have been equipped with similar technology to realise just how advanced yours was.

You realised then with a shaky breath that you had the same vision enhancements as he did. An even match, unable to read through to each other.

He must have had so much more, too. You only had so many enhancements, whereas he was made almost entirely of metal. The thought of amount of different codings and technology he had crammed into every wire of his body gave you a headache.

Bad idea. You shouldn’t have provoked him. You needed to retreat. You needed to get home, preferably safely, with the USB stored nice and snug in your purse.

You tried not to let your nervousness show, but by the way he was staring at you, you knew he could read your face.

“That’s it, then. You’ve figured out my party trick.” You got up from the wall. “Thank you for the offer. The drink, I mean.” You cleared your throat. “I’ll be going now.”

“I’m not scaring you off, am I?” He got up off the wall too.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off of you.

“Not at all.” When you turned to face him, he was smiling so wide his eyes had crinkled. “Have a good night.”

“At least let me walk you out,” he insisted. He also offered to hold your purse, to which you quickly declined. That only made him smile impossibly wider. “What sort of man am I to not see a pretty thing like you get home safe?”

You headed towards the hallway, knowing he was right behind you.

The banquet was still in full swing, barely even close to ending. Most of the cast were drunk or getting there. Heels had been discarded, some missing their pair, skewed all over the dancefloor like glitter.

The golden chandelier in the main room was yet to be pulled from the ceiling. You were surprised nobody had tried to swing from it yet.

You dodged chattering groups and couples in the hallway—one of them had decided to put on a full display while right next to an unoccupied bedroom, right there in the centre of the hall.

Another one was gagging dangerously close to your feet.

You shouldered past them. “Stop following me, Ranger.”

“Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.” You felt his hair brush over your shoulder.

You knew he had a weapon. He wouldn’t have come to threaten you without one.

Before you could reach the door handle, he grabbed your wrist, pulled you backwards, and into the unoccupied guest room that the couple hadn’t bothered to take.

He shut the door with a loud slam, though not before hearing someone whistle out in the corridor.

Your head snapped towards him. He was leaning on the door, his arms crossed, looking almost unbothered.

“We can play this game all day, pumpkin. I got time.” He waved you off with a grin. “Give me the files. I’m askin’ nicely. I won’t force ya to hand ‘em over. Yet.”

You gritted your teeth.

You were so fucking close. So close to getting out of here, and then he had to come—this walking hunk of metal and scrap—and ruin everything.

Nothing ever went your fucking way anyway. You shouldn’t have been shocked something like this would happen.

You held your purse tightly in your hands. All of this was pointless. The dress, the heels, the hair, the nails, the makeup. All of it.

You just hoped by some miracle that he hadn’t found your locator beacon yet. You’d hidden it well; within the bushes outside away from anyone’s line of sight, but he wasn’t just anyone. He could see things a lot of people couldn’t.

“C’mon. You know you wanna…” He smiled sweetly for good measure. It looked like a threat. When he leaned to the side, the golden barrel of a gun flashed beneath his belt.

You could try to make a backup. Right then. You had what you needed in your watch. He’d probably stop you before it was complete.

Or…

Or what? What else could you do?

Your locator beacon wasn’t responding, though it hadn’t been broken. Most likely deactivated temporarily. You bounced on your heels.

You then formed the worst idea of your life.

With shaky hands, you walked towards him slowly. You reached into your purse, feeling for the cold plastic of the black USB he wanted to get his grubby hands on.

“Knew you’d come ‘round.” He held out his hand expectantly.

You fished the USB from your bag.

Then, before you could place it into his palm, you tripped and almost broke your nose on his torso. Your hands splayed desperately onto his chest to keep your face from shattering on impact.

He was quick to grab your arms to steady you with a surprised grunt.

There was a whirring sound, and then the sound of something mechanical and wrong. Foreign. Not from his body, but from yours.

The spaces beneath his joints lit up abright yellow for a moment before his hands loosened from your arms.

You grinned. Gotcha.

When you pulled back, he witnessed you pull a strange light from beneath his skin before you held it along your fingers.

When he blinked, you had an entire copy of his body in the palm of your hand. A hologram formed of his entire artificial makeup. Every crevice of his body, all of the metal that weaved to make him who he was.

All of it in your hand, with puppet strings attached.

It was missing just his head.

He froze. And then, he rushed out a simple, “what did you do?”

You tapped on his holographic arm on the screen. “Hijacked.”

When you moved it, his arm twitched to life.

Against his will, he pulled the gun from his holster and dropped it to the floor. It clattered uselessly onto the carpet.

He could only simply stare as his body moved against his will. There was no way to even twitch a finger with all his might.

It was like you had shut down all of his systems and replaced them with your own.

He should’ve seen this coming.

You whistled as you studied the model of him in your hands. When you tapped onto his neck, it zoomed in to show every single wire and thread of metal, as well as an accompanying string of coding.

“I don’t need any special enhancements to read you. What sort of cyborg comes in alone to try and stop me? You know who I am, don’t you?”

He wasn’t able to move his body. He said not a word.

“Somebody clearly doesn’t understand their body.” You patted his chest. His fans had kicked in. You could hear them whirring.

He was glaring at you.

“Did the IPC send you?”

After a moment, he scoffed. “Hardly. I don’t work for those… people.” It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but decided against it.

“Huh.” You didn’t think he was lying. “So… you’re not concerned about my bounty?”

“You said yourself you were priceless,” he countered easily. Despite his position, he was still grinning. “And besides, I’m sure my bounty is heaps bigger than yours.”

You almost snapped. He’d come to gloat, even at a disadvantage.

“You look better with your mouth shut,” you spat. You shoved the lining of code in his face for him to see, making the holographic blue screen as large as you possibly could. “I could make you tear yourself apart. I could make you forget who you are. I could alter whatever sort of brain you have in there. Watch yourself.”

Still glaring, but this time his lips sealed almost instantly.

You made him stand ram rod straight as you turned around, now eyeing a golden vanity next to the bed. The bedroom was surprisingly clean, save for a few empty glasses strewn about. No stains, no messes.

You sat down in the chair and angled the mirror so you could keep your eye on him.

You breathed out, trying not to stare at him for too long. You could feel your irritation growing, and it was showing on your face. If you stared at him for any longer, you feared you’d pull his limbs off with your own bare hands.

You fished out the powder from your purse and leaned closer to the mirror.

Maybe if you looked better, you’d feel better.

“You’re seriously dollin’ yourself up right now?” he asked, briskly annoyed.

You dabbed the sponge beneath your eyes. “Can’t let anyone think I let you put your hands on me. I have standards.”

He had nice hair. You weren’t sure if it was real, though. You weren’t sure if he could even grow hair. He was almost entirely artificial, save for his head.

He didn’t seem to age—his face, at least. You weren’t sure how old he was supposed to be, but his organic skin still looked fresh, as if left untouched and well taken care of.

Maybe it’s because that was all he had left of him.

You snapped the powder shut.

The ranger sneered. “Yeah, yeah. I’d beat you in a fight anyway.”

“‘Course you would,” you answered easily. You pulled a stick of gloss from your bag. You swiped the lipgloss over your lips, fixing it with the tip of your nail. “That’s not what I’m talking about, though.”

You stood from the chair, placing the gloss back in your purse.

“You’d never hit me, would you?”

His face almost lit up with fury.

It was absolutely hilarious.

“You’re so lucky I can't move,” he threatened. “You wouldn’t recognise your pretty face in the mirror.”

“Such a gentleman.” You stood on the tips of your toes to press your lips to his cheek. You hoped the sticky gloss bothered him, knowing he would be unable to wipe it off of him. You hoped it stained his milky skin a nice glittery bubblegum pink.

You hoped the scent of your perfume lingered on his skin, and he never forgot your name.

“Of course, gorgeous.” That same mocking tone. “Anything for you.”

You held the USB up to his lips. “Open.”

Begrudgingly, he did so.

You slipped the stick past his lips until his teeth caught onto the plastic and held it still.

“You can have it. I already got what I needed anyway.”

You kissed his other cheek for good measure, lingering for a moment before you pulled away. Two pink glittering stains on his face now; perfectly symmetrical.

“I’ll be thinking of you.” And that you would. You winked at him. “Bye, Boothill.”

Then, with sudden grid lines of yellow forming over your figure, the locator beacon buzzed to life, and you disappeared.

In the blink of an eye, you were outside in the cold night air. There were few people out in the front garden of the building, and none had spotted you.

You picked up the gadget and quickly left. A copy of his body and the USB were now a collection in your own personal belongings.

As soon as you vanished, Boothill regained control of his limbs and fell to the floor, trembling with the after effects of your invasion. His teeth were gritted as he pulled himself up onto the guest bed.

He spat the USB out before he could bite down and damage it.

He held it between his thumb and index finger.

There was a smear of your lipgloss on the side of the USB stick.

Mission accomplished, he supposed.

He also had two matching lipgloss stains on his skin as a trophy. He could see how stupid he looked in the vanity mirror.

He snickered with clenched, shaking fists.

You smelled like strawberry.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hi, I just found your blog, and I love your Simon's fics! I was wondering if i could please request something where Reader and Simon had broken up bc he thought he put her in danger. After a few months, he comes to her after a mission and they spend the night but he leaves before she wakes up thinking hes doing whats best (and all that angsty jazz 🥲🤭) . A few weeks after she finds out shes pregnant and decides to take on her own, as reader thinks simon wouldnt care. But maybe one of the guys see her heavy preggo and tell simon, and hes fuming and super protective mode is on.

Sorry if it is too specific and for the terrible english. I just have this idea, and i dont think i can picture it right. Anyway, thanks for reading this and for your good work on your fics 💗 hope you have a lovely day

—Digging Gaze

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [You indulge in a one-night-stand after you'd both called it quits, only, it leads to more problems. When he sees you again, how will he react to the swelling of your stomach?] ❞

You knew it was the effects of a less-than-gentle breakup, but you should have at least cursed him out before you let him have his way with you on the living room couch. You’d woken up back in bed, alone, and had gotten dropped back to where you had been weeks earlier—stuck in the throws of confusion and hurt. 

Simon had left you, and he never gave you a reason. 

A part of you was heated; pissed off and feeling betrayed by the insult, yet, the rest of you knew that Simon needed to have his reasons—he always did. Even if you didn’t agree with them, and you knew he tended to look at life with a glass-half-empty type of glance. 

So that left you here. 

You were pregnant. 

You’d found out two weeks after you’d slept together for that last time, your cheeks still hot from the memory and your fingers clutching the plastic of a test. 

Pregnant.

It had been a shock, a deep panic. The both of you had been reckless. Stupid. And while you had stared at those two pink lines, you felt a sinking in your gut akin to a drowning ship. Should you tell him? It would be proper, of course. 

But you don’t think you can face him again after you’d awaken to an empty bed—as if your entire relationship had only been about sex and not the deep nights of confessions and soft brushes of skin. You knew Simon Riley better than he probably knew himself.

And you wouldn’t put this on him.

At seven months, you couldn’t walk as much as you could before—and you would huff for breath as you went up the stairs to change the sheets—but who else could do it but you? Shopping also fell to you, and so, you pushed a large cart around and packed the metal basket with cravings and necessities. That was when you fell to a familiar face. 

“Johnny?” You ask, blinking. 

The Scot pauses, turning. His brows furrowed for a moment before a kind smile peeled his lips back.

“Hen!” He comes closer, laughing. “Well, I haven’t seen you in a good minute, then. What have you been up to in all—” 

The man freezes at the sight of your stomach, jaw going slack as you fight an internal war with yourself to say pleasantries and leave. 

“Hell,” Johnny clears his throat. “I guess you’ve been doin’ a great deal.” 

You sigh, shaking your head softly. “Thanks, Johnny.”

“I’m just joking, Little Lady.” The man laughs and waves a hand. “Who’s the lucky man then? I’ll have to meet him one of these days.”

Your face blanks and your lips snap shut in an instant. 

Blue eyes wait for an answer as the silence laps over itself. Slowly but surely, the realization dawns on his face in a tight pull of horror.

“You can’t tell him,” you interrupt his tight gasp. “Not a peep, MacTavish, you hear?”

“What the fuck,” he breathes at you, hand coming up to his mouth as he glances down at your swelling bump. “Holy hell.”

“Johnny,” you snap, his eyes jerk back to you. 

“It’s bloody Ghost’s—”

“You can’t,” you growl, coming closer, “tell him.”

“What do you mean I can’t tell him,” Johnny hisses under his breath, looking at the people passing by and lowering his tone. “You’re pregnant and he doesn’t know!”

“That’s the point,” you ease out, exasperated and feeling drained already. Jesus, you needed to go lay down—your back was killing you. “Johnny,” you breathe, growing softer as you reach out a hand and put it to his arm. He grips it and holds on, looking incredibly concerned. “He doesn’t need to know, okay? That’s a lot of stress on him, and you know what he does for work. Even worrying about me was hard on him, what do you think a child would do?”

“You can’t think like that,” the Scot mutters. “He can help—what, you mean to tell me you plan to do this by yourself?” It isn’t malicious how he says it; Johnny’s worried about you. Incredibly. “Hen, no,” he shakes his head. “No, you can’t.”

“I can, Johnny,” you frown, dread filling your heart. “And I will.”

In the future, you really had to take into account Johnny’s flapping lips when under the spell of alcohol. Maybe you had enough faith in him to watch himself for the last little while of your pregnancy as he had into the latter half of the eighth month.

And then three firm knocks were at your door, and when you opened it, you were face to face with a painted balaclava and frazzled brown eyes.

Those eyes immediately snap down, and not even a word is uttered to your face until then.

The both of you are stone-still. Frozen. Dead to all else. 

You swear it was hours of this—standing in the doorway with Simon’s fingers stiff in his pockets and his chest not even moving in a pulse or flare of his lungs. He doesn’t even blink. 

“How far along?” His voice is monotone. A low drone in the ringing of your ears.

Damn that Scot.

“Eight and a half,” you say quietly. 

Brown eyes shift up to yours. Simon stares, and you see his jaw clench under his balaclava, his shoulders moving. Again a long pause. 

“When’s the next appointment—”

“It’s a girl.” You see his eyelids peel back and halt there, watching you. “In case you care to stick around and see her.”

Cruel perhaps, but it was nothing short of how he acted while leaving you. 

Simon’s hidden face is slack, stuttering silently for a moment as the light fades outside.

“Didn’t…didn’t know,” he grunts out, blinking quickly.

“I know you didn’t,” you utter. “That was the point, Simon.”

“Johnny told me ‘bout it, didn’t believe him.” His brown eyes swirl, breaking. “Thought you’d mention it if you were.” 

“You left,” you breathe. “Why would I reach out to someone that did that to me.”

“M’sorry, I-I don’t…” Simon clears his throat, looking away. His eyes are glossy, fingers moving out of his pockets so his twitching hands can splay out. “Could have explained, but I didn’t know how, Love. I’m not…this isn’t…”

Words fail him just like his ability to explain his emotions. Part of him was angry—angry that you’d gone all this time without reaching out when he could have helped.

A daughter. 

But he was afraid, as well. Terrified. You were in the right and he knew it. Simon didn’t know the first thing about being a father…but then again, you didn’t know how to be a mother, either. 

This was new territory.

“Marry me,” Simon pushes out with a quick force of breath. 

“Wh—,” you choke on air. “What?”

“Let me make it up to you, yeah?” Gloved hands move at his sides, eyes honest but still shiny. “Wasn’t thinking—my fault and I can’t go on if I don’t know you’re safe.” He licks at the corner of his mouth. “...Both of you. Thought leaving would make the best sense, but I was…fucking hell. M’sorry.”

“Simon, there are many more ways other than marriage.” Your anger wasn’t something that could be washed away that easily, even if your heart fluttered at the idea and his apology.

You had more self-respect than that.

“Let me fix this,” he whispers, leaning closer. 

Your hand rests over your stomach, staying there as the minutes draw. Simon waits, nervous and his fingers tap on his thigh. You know he’s afraid. You know he’s nervous about what he could bring home from work, even if those are only his paranoia talking in his ear like a demon. 

You frown. 

You huff.

And you open the door wider.

“The sheets need changing in my room. Get on it.”

The man says nothing before he enters the house and slips off his boots; disappearing into the linen closet.

[entirelysein-e]

『 Patching them up 』

☼ synopsis: you patch them up after a fight

☼ characters: Sakura / Suo / Umemiya

☼ wc: 1.4k

☼ cw: mentions of fights, wounds and blood

☼ notes: this windbreaker brainrot is going strong someone help my dear head || don't forget to sign up for the taglist so you won't miss out!

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹Sakura:

✧ Sakura didn't expect you to be sitting there at the Café when they returned after yet another fight and he almost walked right back out through the door, but Umemiya blocked his path, a stern look on his face

✧ You could see that Umemiya urged Sakura to walk towards you, a heavy blush on his cheeks as his face contorted into a scowl

✧ He looked like he'd rather be anywhere else but near you - near anyone right now and you decided to make it easier for him, not teasing him or speaking much

✧ Kotoha knew about your little crush on the man in front of you and decided that you will be helping to patch the guys of Furin up - perhaps you can get a little closer to him this way

✧ Sakura sat down with a huff on the chair in front of you, glaring to the side when his classmates snickered at how nervous you look now

✧ "I-I can do that myself. I'm not a child," he mumbled and wanted to take the bandages from your hand but you held onto his wrist - firm but careful to not hurt him

✧ You gave him a stern look and gently held the ice pack to his swollen eye, your gaze getting stuck on his handsome face which made him grind his teeth

✧ "You got a problem?" He asked pissed off and wanted to jerk away but when your gaze softened he was lost for a moment

✧ With gentle hands you bandaged his still bleeding knuckles, your fingers working so careful that he could only sit there dumbfounded, holding the ice pack to his face

✧ Without any further complaint he let you dress various wounds and clean the cuts but he drew the line at his face, unable to feel your caring gaze on him without getting affected

✧ However, you insisted on using the butterfly bandage on his brow to close the rather nasty cut without it leaving a scar behind and Sakura let you under heavy protest

✧ When you brushed the white hair out of his face, you saw that even the tips of his ears were blushed, his skin warm to the touch and you felt the heat rising up your cheeks as well

✧ Your hand rested on his face longer than necessary and you removed it as the second you realized, jerking away as if his skin just burned you

✧ The man in front of you didn't even dare to complain when you held one of his hands ever so gently while holding the ice pack to his knuckles

✧ It took so long to patch him up but it seems like both of you rather enjoyed the way you took care of him and perhaps he will let you take care of him again next time with a little less protest

✧ If you kiss his hands he might fall off the chair, affection a rather new thing to him but he would willingly bruise his knuckles again just to feel your lips on his skin

ˑ༄ؘ ��۪۪۫ ▹Suo:

✧ Suo was always so kind and his hands were so soft and gentle when holding yours or cupping your cheek, you never thought he could even fight

✧ So when he came back home after helping someone out of trouble you almost dropped the glass you were holding upon setting eyes on him

✧ There was a single cut on his cheek and his knuckles were bruised, some spots even bleeding but he wore his usual smile

✧ Without hesitation you walked over to him and inspected his hands, worry etched on your face but he did his best to reassure you, waving your concerns off

✧ “Oh please, this is nothing but a scratch you don't need to worry” He gently took his hands back from yours, not wanting you to worry about him

✧ His opponent certainly looked worse so what are a couple of bruised knuckles?

✧ You insisted on patching him up however and he sighed heavily, a sad smile on his face when he agreed to it

✧ He hated to burden you like this but it was you who insisted on it and who was he to deny your acts of love and care?

✧ Suo didn't complain a single time, not even when you dropped the bandages multiple times or hesitated to use the rubbing alcohol on his usually soft and delicate hands

✧ His lack of reaction to the more painful aspects of cleaning wounds surprised you but you didn't question it, still apologizing for putting him through this

✧ You didn't want to ask about what happened, your lovers rough side a mystery to you and he was glad you didn't ask

✧ He might be proud of his skills but beating someone up was nothing he'd ever brag about aside from the fact that he never starts a fight unless it's to protect someone

✧ You gently bandaged his hands up and kissed each of them tenderly which made him feel so loved and accepted by you

✧ When you cleaned the small cut on his face he insisted that you won't put a bandaid on it since it's not that deep so you put away the cutest bandaids you were able to find - little star shaped bandaids

✧ Once you were done of taking care of him he thanked you dearly. That you care about him this much fills him with so much gratitude

✧ Safe to say that he pampered you the rest of the evening by cooking your favorite meal and just holding you close

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹Umemiya:

✧ You were always the first to get texted that things went well and that he's okay which made you no stranger to taking care of wounds

✧ Being Umemiya’s loving partner meant that you patch up his guys after fights and you did so without a single complaint, proud of them for what they do

✧ But even if it was just Ume who got into a fight, you were the first he went to, a big smile on his bruised face and it made you wonder how he can be so cheerful in this state

✧ His secret trick? He gets to feel your hands on him, gets to bathe in your love and your tender care so there was nothing to frown about

✧ Umemiya adored the serious look on your face when you carefully cleaned all cuts before icing every single bruise

✧ “You need to be more careful, Hajime” you scold him in a soft tone, straddling his lap to patch up his face properly

✧ “I am being careful… but even if they land a punch, I know you're here to kiss it better” he mused, trying to kiss you but you stopped him

✧ You simply shook your head and denied him the kisses “I won't kiss anything better if you're reckless, Haji” you muse but kiss his bruised cheekbone with such care it made his stomach flip

✧ Feeling your lips against his skin, no matter how bruised and battered, made everything hurt less - he even swore that everything healed faster thanks to your kisses

✧ It's a good excuse to get more of them but you play along, wanting to pamper him to your best abilities

✧ When it was time to apply a bandaid you purposely took one for the younger ones, little stars on a blue bandaid now adorning the bridge of his nose

✧ Umemiya looked absolutely adorable like this when he smiled brightly and he knew damn well that no one would make fun of him like that

✧ The last guy who made fun of his cute bandaids wore a hello kitty bandaid on his broken nose for weeks - both a reminder by yours truly

✧ If getting beaten up means having you sit on his lap and tending to every bruise and cut, Umemiya almost liked getting into fights and perhaps he let his opponent land one more punch than necessary to his lip just so you can coo over and lecture him

[moonstruckme]

Hi, I hope you’re having a wonderful day, I hope I’m making a request properly as I’ve never done it before but would you write something where reader self isolates whenever she’s faced with conflict? It can be with anyone u write for <3

Hope you're having a wonderful-er day :)

roommate!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 558 words

Two days ago Remus got upset with you for letting your dishes pile up in the sink again, and he hasn’t seen you since. 

You’re so good at avoiding him that he almost wouldn’t suspect it if he didn’t know how you are. You hurry out of the house before he wakes up, and no matter when he comes home in the evenings you’re already in your room with the door shut. Last night, Remus could have sworn he saw your light on through your window as he was coming in, but by the time he got inside there was nothing but darkness coming from beneath the crack in your door. 

There’s almost no trace of you but for the periodic disappearances of your key from its hook by the door. The kitchen is spotless. Remus feels awful for getting so wound up about it. He suspects you’ve been bringing food to your room just to avoid being caught in the common spaces. 

Now, he’s decided enough is enough. 

“Dove?” He gives your door a couple of knocks. “Can I come in?” 

There’s a bit of shuffling around, soft, cautious footsteps, and then you’re opening your door in front of him. Behind you, evidence to his theory: a dirty plate and a glass on your floor. 

“Hey.” Your voice could be mistaken for casual if not for the hesitant undertone. “What’s up?” 

“I’m not mad at you,” Remus says plainly. It feels important to get out there. 

A pause. Your chest draws back slightly like you want to take a step away. “You’re not?” 

Remus can’t help the little laugh that puffs out of him, sad and ripe with sympathy. “No, honey. I’m not. And I would’ve told you that sooner if you hadn’t been hiding. Can we be okay again?” 

You look a short fall from bewildered, your brow scrunched adorably. “I wasn’t hiding.” 

“Oh, come on. Do me the credit of not lying to me.” Remus smiles to let you know he’s only teasing; ordinarily, you’d get there on your own, but considering recent events he feels some responsibility for making sure nothing is misinterpreted. 

When his arms come around your shoulders, you make no sign of displeasure. He holds each elbow with its opposite hand, kissing the top of your head. 

“I’m sorry for acting so cross over something as silly as the dishes,” he says softly. “It was completely out of proportion. You can tell me when I’m being a prick, you know.” 

“They were really gross,” you admit, settling your arms somewhat cautiously around his waist. “You were right, I needed to take care of them.” 

“I never said I was wrong about the dishes.” Remus hopes you can hear the teasing in his voice this time. “Only that I was wrong for getting so upset about them. Don’t hide yourself away from me, okay?” 

Your body relaxes a bit more against his, and he presses another kiss to the crown of your head. An encouragement, if you need it. 

“Okay,” you sigh. It sounds a lot like relief. “I’ll try not to. But you’re not a prick. I’m not going to call you one.” 

“So determined to lie to me,” Remus says fondly. “But fine, that’s up to you. I’ll try to be less of a prick so you don’t have to.” 

[veritasangel]

anon message: Hey!! I was wondering if you could do some mha hcs on reader disassociating as a trauma response to yelling, it doesn’t have to be the character yelling but it could be them finding the person in bed just staring at a wall typa thing, if you’re comfortable with that I think it would be a great write from you 🫶🏻

How they react when you dissociate

ft. Bakugo, Shoto, Kirishima, Dabi

⋆ ˚｡⋆ any pov ୨୧˚ warnings: dissociating after shouting, reader accidentally gets a minor injury in bakugo's

↣ I didn't know who you wanted, so I just went with these guys and I hope it's okay, thank you for the request <33 (the post broke and i had to repost it so i rewrote your message so you'd know it's this one)

wc: 2k

Katsuki Bakugo

He’s definitely quick to anger sometimes and he may come off more harsh than he should.

Tries to avoid shouting because he knows how it makes you feel but sometimes it just slips out in the heat of the moment.

Once he realises what he’s done, he feels so guilty and is instantly trying to make sure you’re okay.

You and Bakugo were supposed to have a nice evening together but instead as the two of you were making dinner, you both were just throwing petty remarks at each other. Though it got worse and worse as time went on and Bakugo’s voice rose ever so slightly every time he opened his mouth.

“Why can’t you just listen!” he snaps as he turns to look at you, “You always do this, making everything harder than it needs to be. You make out that I’m fucking selfish for doing my job!”

You kept your eyes on the cutting board, your hands trembling slightly as you mumble, “Don’t put words in my mouth, Kats-”

“Well it’s true, and you need to realise the world doesn’t revolve around you.” He leans on the counter next to you, practically looming over you, "Look at me when I'm fucking talking to you!" His voice rose the loudest this time, a mix of anger and desperation in his tone.

The loudness of his voice was enough to set you off, your hands moving on autopilot as you shakily cut the courgette, not even noticing that you had accidentally sliced your finger. The pain didn't register as the room around you began to blur, colours fading and sounds becoming muffled. The knife clattered onto the counter as your grip loosened.

"Shit," Bakugo muttered, his eyes widening in alarm as he saw the blood and your vacant expression. He instantly realised you were dissociating and that he had fucked up. Bakugo's heart pounded in his chest, a mix of guilt and fear gripping him.

He reached out, gently touching your arm, careful not to startle you. "Hey, come on, come back to me." He guided you away from the counter as he checked your finger.

He cursed himself for letting his temper get the best of him as he quickly grabs the first aid box from the cupboard and grabs a plaster, “Come, let me clean this under the tap.” he says softly, a hand on your cheek as he forces you to meet his gaze.

Bakugo carefully cleaned the cut, also using the cold water to gently rub into your wrists, something he’s tried before to ground you, to bring you back to him when you’re in this state. “I’m so sorry, baby, fuck- I shouldn’t have raised my voice.”

“It’s alright.” you mumble, finally feeling the pain of the cut as everything becomes less hazy.

“It’s not. I’m so so sorry.” he grumbles as he pulls you into his arms, burying his face in your hair, “I won’t ever do it again, I promise you.”

You nod as you slowly let everything come back to you, leaning against the counter as Bakugo gets you a glass of water, “Drink this for me, yeah?” he asks softly as he holds one of your hands in his.

Shoto Todoroki

I think he gets the same as you do when people shout, he’s gotten a little better but he knows what it’s like.

Sometimes it’s not always obvious but he knows you like the back of his hand so he can always tell.

Will run through several grounding techniques to bring your focus back to him so he can comfort you.

Shoto arrived home, a little surprised when you didn’t greet him at the door but he figured you must’ve been napping. It’s only as he walks through the quiet house that he realises you’re sitting on the sofa, staring blankly at the silent tv. He immediately recognised the telltale signs of dissociation. Your vacant expression, your body unnaturally still, it was all too familiar to him.

"Love?" he called softly, as he approached the sofa. There was no response and his heart clenched with worry as he moved closer, kneeling in front of you.

Shoto knew he needed to ground you, so he started with the simplest technique he knew. "Can you feel my hands?" he asked, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. "Focus on the sensation. I'm right here with you, yeah?"

Your eyes moved sluggishly, but they didn't focus on anything in particular, “Hm?” you mumbled almost inaudibly and he knew you weren’t taking anything in.

"Can you tell me five things you can see in the room?" he prompted, his voice calm and steady as he brushed some hair out of your face, noticing the slight glaze over your eyes.

You shake your head as you look at him, your lips wobbling slightly. 

“Can you hear my voice? Focus on my voice."

He continued to talk, describing mundane things. The weather outside, the dinner he was planning to cook you both, how work was, anything to keep you tethered to the present. Gradually, your eyes began to clear, the fog lifting as you focused on the sound of his voice.

“Sho-”

“There you are, my pretty angel.” he whispers as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. He stroked your hair, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Let's take it one step at a time, alright? Just talk to me.”

Shoto waited patiently for you to gather your thoughts as you quietly voiced to him what had happened, how someone at work had shouted at you and it was pissing him off just hearing it.

“Can you stay with me?” you whisper as a tear falls and it breaks his heart hearing the tremble in your voice.

“Always.” he reassures, gently wiping the tear away, “I’m right here, you’re here. You’re on our sofa and we’re in our home, together. You’re safe, okay? I promise.” he says steadily as you take in his voice and focus on his eyes that look at you with so much love and adoration.

Dabi

I don’t think he shouts often but there are times when he gets overwhelmed and he sorta snaps.

He knows how awful it is to be shouted at because of how his Dad did when he was a kid, so he feels awful when he accidentally does the same to you.

He knows how to help you and make you feel grounded, whilst simultaneously feeling so awful for even slightly shouting at you.

“You can't keep getting into trouble like this,” you said, your voice a mixture of worry and frustration. “It’s dangerous, and it’s tearing me apart.”

Dabi leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. “I told you, I can handle it. You don’t need to worry so damn much.”

“But I do worry.” you replied, the frustration in your voice evident, “Every time you go out there, I’m scared for you.”

His eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger crossing his face. “I’m not some little kid who needs looking after. I know what I’m doing.”

You sighed, trying to keep your emotions in check. “I know, but—”

“Then how about you stop fucking treating me like I’m helpless!” he snapped, pushing off the wall, his voice a lot louder than he intended as it echoed around the now silent room.

The sudden increase in volume made you flinch. Your breath hitched, and you felt a familiar sensation of detachment creeping in. Your chest began to feel tight and everything in the room felt fuzzy as you tried and struggled to collect any sort of coherent thought.

Dabi’s anger evaporated instantly as he saw the change in your demeanour. “God,” he muttered under his breath, moving quickly to your side. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

He gently took your hands in his, his touch warm and grounding as he tried to make you feel safe. “Dove?”

When there was no immediate response, he guided your hand to his chest, over his heart. “Feel my heartbeat. It’s steady, just like my voice. Focus on it.” He continued to talk, his voice a low, calming rumble. “I’m really sorry for yelling. I didn’t mean to scare you. You’re important to me, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your fingers moved slightly in his, enough to let him know you were slowly registering everything.

He pulled you in against his chest, “I’m so unbelievably sorry.” He stroked your hair, his touch gentle and reassuring. “I’ll be more careful, I promise. I don’t want to put you through this again.” 

You nodded against his chest, the warmth of his embrace helping to ground you further. The room began to feel solid again, the shadows retreating as you focused on his presence.

“Thank you.” you whisper

“No need to thank me, you really shouldn't be. Fuck, I’m so sorry." He whispers back, furious at himself for even raising his voice at all, Shall we go have a shower? I know the water helps when you’re in this state, yeah?”

And you nod slightly, your hands clinging to him as he guides you to the bathroom.

Eijiro Kirishima

I think it’s definitely something he’s not used to.

He’s never had any reason to shout at you and never seen anyone shout at you either, so he’s a little worried when he sees your reaction.

Will try his hardest to comfort and reassure you.

You were on the phone with your parents in the other room and Kirishima could tell it was an argument by the tone of your voice and the loud booming voice that was coming from the phone speaker. He hated hearing it but didn’t want to interrupt, so chose to wait outside until the call had ended.

Once he quietly entered the bedroom, he saw you sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes downcast to the floor. He quickly came over, kneeling in front of you and gently taking your hands in his.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm against the current thoughts in your head. "It's okay. I'm here." He tried not to freak out when you didn't respond, your eyes unfocused and distant as everything around you seemed to fade, his voice only a faint blur. His heart ached seeing you like this. 

“What’s wrong? Baby?” he tried again softly, noticing the slight tremble in your hands and he realised it must’ve been due to the yelling from the argument. Kirishima continued, his voice steady and calming. "Focus on me. Feel my hands holding yours. Can you try to take a deep breath with me?"

He demonstrated, taking a slow, deep breath and exhaling gently. After a moment, you tried to follow his lead, taking a shaky breath as you closed your eyes. "That's it. Just like that. You're doing great," he murmured. "Keep breathing with me."

Gradually, your eyes began to clear, the fog of dissociation lifting as you focused on Kirishima's voice. He continued to speak softly, reminding you that you were safe and that he was there with you.

You finally lifted your head to look at him, eyes welling up slightly, “I’m sorry-” you shakily manage to whisper.

“No, no no, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here, yeah?” He says soothingly as he waits for you to nod, “Ssshh, let’s not think about them, just focus on me. I got you.” Kirishima’s arms wrap around you and you lean forward, burying yourself against him as you take in his scent to help calm you down. 

Occasionally he encourages you to take more deep breaths whenever he notices you seem to be slipping. All the while, he continues to reassure you, rubbing circles on your back as he constantly checks you’re still with him.

༄ m.list

© veritasangel ↣ 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴

[ellecdc]

HEY POOKIE!!!!

Could I request a fic with either poly moon water or poly marauders where reader has had mental health issues but they were getting better and then they slip back into them. This happens to me in moments and I have to remind myself that it’s part of my progress but it would be so nice if I had someone else to say it too. No pressure lovely!!!!

I ADORE all of your marauders work!! Like OML I never know how much I needed poly moonwater until youuuu❤️❤️❤️😘

hi babes! totally get where you're coming from re: mental health issues. It's a marathon, not a race. and I'm so glad you love moonwater! my evil plan of converting the entire fandom (lol) is succeeding. I opted to go with the marauders but it's quite sirius centric

poly!marauders x fem!reader who is struggling with her mental health

CW: non-sexual nudity [nothing is described], discussion of dark mental headspace and anxiety/depression [again, nothing is described]

You felt awful.

You knew the boys would be understanding, but it didn’t make you feel any better about your behaviour.

You’d found yourself slipping back into familiar and darker headspaces as of late, and though you couldn’t deny the disconcerting comfort that familiarity brought, you knew you couldn’t allow yourself to fully fall back into it; you worked so hard to move beyond this, and you had been doing so well.

It hurt worse now that you felt like you weren’t just disappointing yourself anymore, but also disappointing three other people who - for whatever reason - cared an awful lot about you.  

You’d been inching closer and closer to a panic all day and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed when you got home and pretend the world didn’t exist for a few hours days weeks. 

Those kinds of plans don’t work when you live with three other people, two of which have the tendency to coddle you.

You knew that irritability was one of the symptoms of your anxiety, but knowing that didn’t stop the sting of your words as they left your lips. 

James was too nice, too bright, too happy, too lovely. You felt like the polar opposite of your sweetest boyfriend, which made you feel even more disappointing than you already had. And Remus was a fixer; he had a tendency to see a problem and immediately start problem solving, but that’s not what you needed right now.

Of course, you didn’t say that.

Of course, you got angry and lashed out at them before storming off to your room and slamming the door.

What started off as feeling blue quickly spiralled into a low affect. Feeling low left you increasingly anxious. Your anxiety left you feeling disappointing and less than, which caused you to feel depressed. The more depressed you got, the more anxious you became. The more anxious you became, the more depressed you felt.

It was a vicious cycle and you were stuck in its seemingly never ending assault on you.

And now, you weren’t just depressed and anxious; you were also feeling terribly guilty and overwhelmed at the thought of having upset Remus and James. 

Remus, who only wanted to help, who only wanted you to feel better, who only wanted to care for you. 

And James, who only wanted to perhaps share a little bit of his joy with you on the off chance it could brighten your day.

You were awful.

Horrid.

You didn’t deserve them, and they didn’t deserve you - they deserved better. You deserved nothing.

You’re not sure how long you had been standing under the spray of the water with your head against the cool tile when you heard a gentle knock against the glass of the shower door.

You felt the irritability surge in your blood again at the intrusion of your pity party, but tried your hardest to take a steadying breath before you hummed a quiet “yeah?”

“Can I come in?” You heard Sirius’ voice ask from the other side, apparently having gotten home sometime during your meltdown.

He could, though you weren’t sure he should.

You were terrible after all.

Horrid. 

The glass door popped open and Sirius shoved his face in. You didn’t bother turning your face towards him but you could feel the questions permeating his being nonetheless.

“I’m coming in.” He announced, deciding on your behalf. 

You heard the sound of his clothes falling to the bathroom floor, and you knew if Remus were in here he’d be scolding him: “there’s a hamper right there, Sirius.” 

But Remus wasn’t here because you were awful and you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the sodding hamper nor Sirius’ clothes littering the floor.

Some of your steam escaped as Sirius opened the shower door fully and you were accosted with cool air that left your body covered in goosebumps. He corrected it quickly by standing under the spray with you and pushing his front up against your back, leaning his chin on your shoulder.

“Fuck, you take hot showers.” He commented.

Usually you’d laugh.

“Sorry.” You said instead.

He rubbed at your hips where his hands had fallen with his thumbs, eliciting another layer of goosebumps on your skin. 

“You’re not feeling too good, are you baby?” He asked quietly.

You let out an exhausted breath. “I don’t feel good; I’m no good.” You responded just as quietly.

Sirius ducked his chin down to kiss your shoulder before quickly replacing it.

“That’s not true.”

You didn’t respond, glad that the water streaming over your face hid the evidence of the tears escaping your eyes.

Wordlessly, Sirius pulled away and grabbed your shampoo, working it into your hair. You did nothing to help him in his task, keeping your head pressed against the shower wall as he lathered the soap on your scalp. He pulled the handheld down to rinse it out, paying special attention to point the spray away from your face since you didn’t seem too fussed over protecting your own eyes. He combed some conditioner through your hair and rinsed it out in much the same manner before grabbing a loofa and lathering body wash over your form.

“Sometimes it’s two steps forward and one step back.” He commented, finally breaking the silence that had long been only the sound of the water falling and each of your breaths. “But that still means you’re one step forward.”

A sob escaped you, causing Sirius to pause in his ministrations and pull you back into his chest again.

He didn’t say anything else; he knew better. Of course he would, Sirius sometimes understood this side of you better than the others did. Sirius had a tendency to fall into darker times too, also having a penchant for lashing out at those closest to him when things felt like too much.

He let you cry, standing under the likely too-hot-for-his-tastes water, as he rocked you back and forth with your head leaned back, resting on his shoulder as you faced toward the ceiling. 

“Do they hate me?” You whimpered eventually, trying to convince your lungs to take in slower, deeper breaths.

“Of course they don’t; you know they don’t.”

“Are they mad at me?”

You could feel Sirius shake his head, but he answered you verbally anyway.

“No, doll. They worry, is all.”

You didn’t like that. You didn’t want them to worry. “I’m fine.”

“I know you are.” He agreed readily. “They do too.”

You let that sit in the foggy air for a little bit.

“Do you know that?” He asked eventually.

“Know what?”

“That you’re okay? That you’re just fine?”

You thought about that for a moment. You were sad, and you were anxious, but were you fine?

You admitted to yourself you felt the familiar tendrils of your darker self pulling at you, but you could also admit it was different this time. You were better, you had been working hard, and most importantly, that hard work was paying off.

You may have been two steps forward and one step back, but you were still one step forward from where you started.

“You’re sure they’re not mad at me?” You asked instead, earning you a chuckle as Sirius turned you in his arms to hold your face between his hands. 

“No one is mad at you, love. I swear it. You are, however, very loved.”

You offered him the best smile you could muster and let him pull you forward for a chaste kiss. 

“Then… yes, I know I’m fine.” You agreed eventually, earning you a beaming smile from your boyfriend.

“Atta girl.” 

Your felt your cheeks heat up at the praise and pushed your forehead into his chest.

“Can we get out of this torture chamber, now? I swear this water is being heated by hellfire.” He joked, leaning around you to turn off the shower without your consent.

“It’s really not that bad.” You argued, earning you a scoff.

“I’m red, doll. The water has marred my skin, perhaps permanently.”

You continued arguing about proper shower etiquette as you rubbed lotion into your skin (and then into Sirius’ for his troubles [he really was sort of red]), and changed into your comfies.

You headed towards the living room before you remembered you were sort of ashamed with yourself for the way you had spoken to the other two boys, but Sirius didn’t allow you to hesitate in the hall as he caught your elbow when your steps faltered and ushered you into the room.

“Boys, we’re really going to have to do something about her shower habits.” He commented as if a) nothing had happened, and b) you weren’t even there. “I’m surprised she hasn’t completely melted her skin off." 

“Perhaps hot showers are how she gets so beautiful, Sirius, ever think about that?” James jested back, earning him an indignant scoff.

“Are you saying I’m not pretty, Jamie?”

“As pretty as Y/N?” Remus interjected, looking between the two of you as if assessing. “No, not at all.” 

“Well I-” Sirius began, but you interrupted.

“I’m sorry.”

Everyone’s shoulders fell as they turned to look at you, clearly willing to brush over the tension if that had been what you wanted.

“I was rude and irritable when I got home, and neither of you deserved that. I’m sorry.”

“Angel…” James started, opening his arms for you which you readily accepted and tucked yourself into his chest.

“I was never mad to begin with, but I’ll go ahead and forgive you right now if that’ll make you feel better, okay?” He murmured into your wet hair.

“Okay. Thank you.” You murmured back.

“You’re too sweet for us, dove.” Remus commented, moving to place a consoling hand on your back.

“I was the opposite of that earlier.” You chuckled at your own expense. 

“Please.” Sirius scoffed derisively. “These two are too nice, especially when you feel like shit; I’ve given them a far harder time than you have, dollface.” 

“It’s true.” James said quickly. “He once told me he’d rather have a cup of tea with his mother than snuggle with me when he was in one of his moods once.”

You gasped and looked at Sirius in horror. “You did not.”

Sirius, not at all guilty, shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure did, and I meant it too.”

“Oh come off it.” Remus chided, pulling Sirius into his side who broke out in a grin, effectively eliminating his earnest facade. 

“No, of course I didn’t mean it.” He relented, leaning further into Remus’ side. 

“I don’t like myself very much when I’m like this.” You admitted quietly.

“We’ll love you enough for all of us in the meantime then, yeah?” James asked, pulling you into his arms tighter.

“Just be patient with yourself dove, you’re much too hard on yourself. We’re here now and we’ll be here when you feel better too.” Remus added.

“Can’t get rid of us that easily, dollface.” Sirius concluded, shooting you a wink.

Two steps forward and one step back.

But you were still one step forward.

You knew you would make two more steps forward again soon.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hi 👋🏻 Lou!! Congratulations 🎊🎉 on 6k!!

So how about Arranged Marriage w/ Simon?

Again congrats to 6k 🙃💛🦡

.⋆｡Give 'Em Hell｡⋆.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader

Your parents think you need to get married and settle down, so they called in a favour. A big military man of a husband might do you some good just not in the way they think

Warnings: arranged marriage, sort of sugar baby/daddy relationship, misogynist parents, future revenge, mention of hook-ups WC: 986

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You often wondered about the true scope of your family’s stupidity. Sure, there were moments in your childhood where you had the vivid thought that no one could be as ignorant and blatantly idiotic as your parents were but somehow, they had absolutely hit rock bottom of moronic decisions.

“What the fuck do you mean I’m getting married?” Your mother gasped.

“Watch your tone young lady, that is no way to speak to your parents.” She scolded as your father’s expression hardened. There was no question that your parents were ‘traditional’ believing that women were less than their male counterparts in every way but while they had constantly lectured you on those beliefs, they hadn’t gone so far as to inflict them upon you, until now at least. They even helped you and encouraged you through college!

“You’ve been running wild long enough, it’s time for you to do your duty,” you fought the urge to roll your eyes, “We’ve let you chase your silly little dreams but you’re getting older and your clock is ticking.” Your father clicked his tongue and reached for the tumbler of expensive bourbon on the table beside his recliner.

“We’ve picked out a good man!” Your mother chirped from her place on the expensive love seat next to your father, “He’s highly decorated in the military, he can give you a good life.”

“I don’t give a shit about that! I’m not marrying anybody! Period!” You snarled. Anger curled in your gut, turning your tone sour.

Your father’s glass slammed down onto the wood, making your mother flinch. “You will marry him or I will make your life a living hell. I make one call and no one will want to hire you, not even as a fucking garbage collector. You know the connections I have. Suck it up and be a responsible adult for once.” 

——————

“I don’t want a husband.” The man across from you made a sound that you thought might have been a laugh. Simon, as you had learned from your parents, was a Lieutenant in a special ops task force. Never married, no family to speak of and copious amounts of money, your mother had gleefully added as she literally dragged you into the official-looking building where you would be meeting your future spouse.

He was by all means, an intimidating man. Almost 6 and a half feet tall and wearing a stupid balaclava with a skull on it, he looked more fitting being in a slasher movie than in a conference room negotiating marriage stipulations. His bulky, tattooed arms were crossed over his chest, somehow making him seem even bigger to you, as he leaned back in his chair.

“I don’t want a wife.” Your eyebrows furrowed at that. 

“Then why are you here?” 

His massive shoulders rolled back as his head tilted, cracking his neck. “Same as you— orders.” You hummed under your breath and forced your gaze away from his tanned arms and up to his eyes. He was obviously a quiet man but in no way did that intimidate you. He seemed more pissed off at your father who had so rudely guided (shoved) you into the room than he did at you.

You cleared your throat. “I won’t fuck you.” This time, his laugh was more discernible. His broad chest rumbled with the sound.

“‘M not expecting you to, not unless you beg,” you made a face at him but Simon continued, “I get deployed most of the time, I’d just like someone to take care of the house and spend my money.”

“So I would be your sugar baby.” He shrugged.

“If that’s what ya wanna call it. Do what cha want, I don’t care. We just need to show up to official events together.” 

You planted your elbows on the table between you and stared into his brown eyes. Simon didn’t waver. “So you wouldn’t have an issue with me getting a job?”

“None.” He answered quickly.

“Going back to school?”

“I’d happily pay for it.” You raised an eyebrow before a devious smirk crossed your lips.

“Get a lover?” His eyes blazed while he mirrored your position, the swivel chair beneath him groaning with his mass as he leaned forwards, planting his massive palms onto the table.

“I’d like to see you try.” Against your will, heat raced through your body, setting your nerves alight with the thrum of arousal.  Simon’s mask shifted and you imagined that he was smirking at you. 

You tamped down the feeling of wetness between your soft thighs, forcing yourself to remember exactly why you were in this situation in the first place. “You’re a lot different than I was expecting.”

He huffed. “So are you. Thought I was getting stuck with some bratty trust fund baby who’s never even set foot in a thrift store.”

“I thought you were gonna be a crusty old man who wanted me to put out so he could feel better about his broken dick and receding hairline.” Silence settled between you before suddenly, you both broke into peels of laughter, an oppressive weight suddenly lifted from the room. 

You were relieved; Simon seemed at least like a decent human being if nothing else and it appeared that you could continue living your life, although without the occasional hook up here and there. But considering how handsome you presumed your almost husband to be, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“I guess we both got lucky didn’t we?” You wiped the tears from your eyes.

“Or just benefitting from the sheer incompetence of the people that thought this was a good idea.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“So, should we do this then?” You asked. Simon rose from his seat and offered you his hand, which you didn’t hesitate to take. As he pulled you to your feet, he uttered:

“Let’s give ‘em hell.”

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Ghost/Simon Riley

@babygirl-riley

[haosweater]

nasty dog

content: best friend! vernon x afab! reader, smut, pwp, college au. warnings: consumption of alcohol. smut: switch! vernon, switch! reader, name calling (puppy, mutt, miss etc), cunnilingus (oral on reader), praise kink, breeding kink.

summary: vernon is overprotective. everyone knows that. he says he just wants to make sure no man takes advantage of you, since y’know, men are dogs. well, then again, so is he.

word count: 2k

note: this was,,, supposed to be less than 1k words... oh well, i went crazy :d divider is by @cafekitsune on tumblr :)

you always found the situation funny. 

to people on campus, you and vernon were known to be best friends. he was your partner-in-crime, the one who knew and understood your humour the best. wherever you were, so was he. people rarely saw you apart. it was as if you both were attached to the hip.

your friends always teased vernon about how protective he was over you. it didn’t matter where men approached you. in school, at clubs, on campus— vernon was always lurking nearby, glaring at them from the shadows. if looks could kill, he’d have been a serial killer. 

“aw vernon, don’t need to be jealous,” jihyo laughed as the male snapped out of his daze, and turned to look at her. “you’ve been staring at y/n for the past ten minutes.”

it was true. he had been busy staring at you. but he was also staring at the man whose hands were wandering down your body. his lanky figure was bent over so he could whisper god-knows-what into your ear. he just couldn’t look away from the way you giggled, your fingers tracing over the patterns on the stranger’s shirt. 

“well, that freak’s with her,” he sighs, downing the rest of his whiskey. “can’t be too careful now, can i?” 

chaeyong giggled, leaning against her boyfriend’s shoulder. “aw, are you worried y/n’s gonna leave you?” she teases the male as their whole group laughs. vernon rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face shows that he doesn’t mind it. “don’t worry, babes. you know she always has a special place in her heart for you.” 

vernon opts to not respond as his gaze drifts back to you. the man’s hands had trailed down to your waist, and it was now your turn to whisper in his ear. your hand was on his shoulder, gripping it tightly. he shuddered at your words, only fueling vernon’s curiosity even more. he knew you were whispering the most sinful things to him. he could see it in the way you grinned, knowing you were in control.  

the music faded into the background gradually as the boy is left with his own thoughts. ‘special place in her heart?’ vernon thought to himself, bringing the glass up to his lips. he didn’t doubt that. 

that’s when your eyes meet his. he chokes on his drink, surprised and embarrassed. he knew you knew that he’d been staring. it wasn’t like he was trying to hide it that well anyways. 

vernon feels small and shy when you look at him. your gaze was similar to that of a predator’s– focused, sharp, intimidating. you looked like you were about to devour him whole. he wouldn’t have minded that. 

he cannot look away. your eyes draw him in, your entire demeanour was confident, seductive, and you knew you were in absolute control. raising a finger, you gesture for him to come over slowly, as if casting a spell on him (for you, he’d knowingly fall for it all). with a soft smile, he finishes his drink quickly and leaves. 

he knew what this meant. 

“so? what did you tell him?”

you hum, closing your eyes with a smile on your face. vernon’s voice always had a soothing effect on you. “i told him how i’d tie him up and fuck him slowly,” you begin, sipping on your drink. “then i told him to fuck off and keep dreaming.” 

vernon’s laugh sounds like a familiar melody from your childhood. he hums, tracing circles across your skin gently. “very on brand for you, hm?” he teases, shifting his body down as the sheets rustle under your bodies. 

chuckling, you brushed his brown locks aside, but are quick to gasp as he inserts his tongue into you, catching you by surprise. “fuck, noonie,” you curse, relishing in the pleasure. “god, that tongue of yours,” you moan softly, flushing your hips against his face. 

from between your legs, vernon has a wild grin on his face. you roll your eyes at his antics, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of his tongue against your wet cunt. he mumbles something so softly, you only realise he spoke because of the vibrations it sent to your clit. 

“what’d you say—ngh, fuck,”you let out a gasp. “w-what’d you say, nonnie?” 

vernon lifted his head from between your legs, licking his lips. “all men are dogs,” he said, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit as you shuddered. “and you know how nasty they are.” 

“fuck, 'non,” you whine as his tongue continues to assault your clit, fingers pumping in and out of you. “doesn’t that– oh god, you’re so fucking good,” you breathe heavily, relishing in the pleasure vernon never failed to give you. “doesn’t that make you a dog too?” 

the chuckle he let out was enough to make you groan. god, all it took was his laugh to make you even wetter (if that was even possible). 

his large eyes peek out from between your legs, mouth place soft kisses to your inner thighs. you shudder as his fingers start to move even faster, your hands grasping the satin sheets below you. 

“yeah, it does,” he smiles against your skin. “but i’m your dog, y/n,” he says with a hint of mischievousness in his voice. 

his fingers trace along your skin before you feel him gently pry your fingers off the sheets. his fingers intertwine with yours for a moment, a short, but intimate moment that has your heart fluttering more than you’d like to admit.

he hands you something and you’re slightly confused. its texture is slightly rough and it felt foreign to you. you look down and realise he’s handed you the end of a leash that was around his neck. “i’m yours to use. i’m here only to please you, to make you feel good. my pleasure is irrelevant– i’m made to serve you,” he whispers, planting kisses along your thigh as he looked into your eyes. 

“so please. use me.”

an insatiable energy surges within you. with a harsh tug of the leash, you have vernon in your lap. your free hand grabs his hair, moaning into his mouth as he grinds against you. 

“you’re such a horny fucking mutt,” you groan, as he kisses you back with much vigour. you can tell he’s desperate, the way his hips are moving against you. “you wanna fuck me? fuck your cum into me?”

vernon groans at your statement, nodding fervently as you chuckle, slowly lowering yourself down. the boy follows you, chasing your lips as he whined at the list of contact. you tug his leash and he lets out a low whimper, almost too soft for you to hear. “good boy,” you coo, ridding him of his pants eagerly. 

his cock was hard and twitched at your praise. you licked your lips at the sight. “you’re going to fuck me now, puppy. you will fuck me until i’m satisfied, and no cumming until i say so, you understand?” 

“yes, miss,” he huffs, eager to please you. at your nod of approval, he enters you, whimpering as your walls wrap tightly around him. “oh my god, miss,” he lets out a whimper, shaking at how good he felt. “fuck, you’re so warm.” 

the grin on your face widens, fully taking in how gorgeous your best friend looks. he was flushed, eyes squeezed shut from the pleasure. his hair was tussled messily, framing his gorgeous face. 

“may i move, miss?” his desperate whine snaps you out of your daze. 

“yes baby, you– ah, fuck!” vernon doesn’t even let you finish before he begins pounding into you mercilessly. you grip the sheets, wrapping your legs around his waist. the way his cock hit all the right spots made you moan, hands moving to his shoulder as your nails dug into his skin. 

his cock rammed into you relentlessly, making you arch your back, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes at how good it felt. the sound of your skin slapping filled the room, along with his desperate whines and your breathy moans. pleasure was an understatement for how good you felt. 

you yank at the leash, making vernon moan. his eyes were wide and glossy, begging for your touch. “you want me to touch you, baby?” you pant, fingers ghosting over his chest as he nodded. “good boy,” you smile and began to toy with his nipples, making him whine even louder, thrusting into you faster. 

“miss, miss, please, i’m going to cum,” he cries, tears rolling down his cheeks. “can i cum, please? i’ve been a good boy for you, so please let me cum,” he begged, lips plump and red. 

“no,” you say firmly, pulling his leash tighter. “you’re gonna make me cum before you can,” you instruct as he whined, but quickly obeyed. 

his hand moved down, fingers circling your clit as he leaned down to take your nipple into his mouth. you moan in his ear, whispering sweet praises into his ears. his pace increased, his desperation evident as he chased his own orgasm while trying to please you. 

the familiar coil in your stomach made you moan. “fuck, noonie, i’m going to cum,” you sigh in pleasure. 

as you think vernon can’t possibly go even faster, his hips begin snapping into you at an inhumane pace that made you gasp. “yes, miss! please cum for me,” he moans. “please let me in cum in you! please, please, please, i’ve been so good– i’ve been your good boy,” he begs, staring at you with his beautiful eyes.  

the tears that roll down his eyes turn you on even more and you shudder. “okay baby, you can cum inside me. you wanna breed me, yeah? fill me full of your cum until it drips out of me?” you ask as he groans, shaking at the thought. 

“yes, yes, miss. wanna show all those men that i’m yours. wanna fuck you full of my seed, please,” he cries out, holding onto you tightly. 

the knot in your stomach continues to build and you know you’re getting close. your nails dig down his back, your grip on his leash tightening. “fuck, noonie, i’m cumming,” you pant out, trying to match his thrust to chase your high. “fuck, i’m cumming, i’m cumming!” 

as soon as your walls tighten around his big, warm cock, vernon loses it. he lets out a loud groan as his seed spills into you. the sound of your moans echoed, as you rid your orgasm out, basking in the afterglow. 

“god, 'non, that was…” you pant, trying your best to catch your breath. vernon continued to stare at your chest, enticed by the way your boobs moved. “pervert,” you smack his ass, earning a help from him. “we need to clean up.” 

vernon nods, slowly sliding out of you, eyes trained at the entrance of your pussy. he loved the way his cum spilled out of you, painting your pussy white.

“'non?” you call out as he snaps out of his daze. god, your body looked gorgeous in the moonlight. “if you don’t come, you won’t be able to fuck me against the bathroom walls,” you say with a sly grin.

you love how vernon’s cock twitches at your words. smiling, you wink at him before turning around, swaying your hips as you walked away.

vernon giggled to himself. god, he really was just a nasty fucking dog for you.

[loversmantra]

FREE FALLIN' LOVE ADDICT!

synopsis. satoru's fingers look their best soaking wet.

content. gojo satoru x cisfem!reader. smut. minors do not interact. lowkey... househusband satoru and his working wife. making out. fingering. cum eating. drooling. size difference. not explicitly stated but this definitely reads as sub!satoru. foul language. "gojo satoru has the biggest praise kink in existence," i say from the top of my hill. he's kinda pathetic in this tbh but so am i so it's fine.

title from poplar st by glass animals

wc. 2.3k

message from noe. this started as something very different, very wholesome... then it became this. i was fighting demons. sorry. also this is lowkey my first time doing smut be nice to me pls. anyways @neptuneblue dis one is for you twiiin

satoru’s hands are much bigger than yours.

you’ve known this for a long time, of course. as a teen, he never missed an opportunity to remind you you were smaller than him: whether that be by holding something out of your reach or using that creature of an appendage to cover your entire face and muffle your complaints.

he didn’t outgrow his antics. his hands did, however, get even bigger.

but it’s one thing to know, to have the theoretic knowledge of it in the back of your mind. it’s another to have indisputable proof of it: his huge hand wrapped around your own, both warming it and dwarfing it.

satoru’s had his hands on you since the day you first met. rough, teasing — and later loving. soft. and you’re thinking about them a lot these days. you’re thinking of his hands everywhere.

his longs fingers wrapped around your throat. snug around your waist, tight on your hips. deep inside you. you’re thinking about it, a lot.

the wonderful contrast of cherry red flush on his cheeks, down his neck, down his heaving chest. the heat of his breath on your lips, crazed, feverish, delirious. wide smile, all teeth, as he puts his fingers on his tongue and sucks. baby blues rolling back, away from the conscious world and into something he keeps on a tight, tight leash. he’s so beautiful when he gets like this. you want him.

you’re thinking about it so much, these days. you’re thinking about him.

you’re thinking today might be the boiling point.

you’re thinking satoru looks way too good in this outfit… and his hand is just so much bigger than yours.

your workday ended with a text from your beloved, urging you to hurry home, because he had a lil’ surprise for you. knowing satoru, you were fully expecting to find him laying on the bed naked and oiled up, but the sight you were greeted with when you arrived home was very different — though no less delectable.

the "surprise" itself: satoru in the kitchen, preparing dinner for you. he turned to face you when the door closed softly.

and while this might seem strange to anyone — anyone except you — when paired with his text telling you to hurry, you knew exactly where his intentions lied. you’ve been experiencing him long enough.

he wanted to seduce you. and fuck him, it worked.

not like you needed much help there: you’ve been thinking about jumping his bones, among other things, twenty-four seven, for days. you’re wrapped around his finger. head over heels. thoroughly whipped.

but to be fair, who could blame you?

briefly, you pondered. how wonderful it is, you thought, to have this man taking care you after a long day. how wonderful it is, to be loved by such a cosmic being. to come home and find the house clean. to come home and smell dinner cooking.

you pondered — but not for long. something else drew your attention away from his loving acts of service.

black slacks stretched around his toned legs, glorious ass on full display — you could have bitten him right there. his pristine white shirt was tight on his torso, showing off his rippling muscles as he expertly chopped vegetables. his sleeves — struggling to keep his biceps in check, it almost seemed — were rolled up to his elbows. displaying his hands and forearms perfectly. damn him.

to top it all off: an apron tight around his slim waist. picture perfect househusband.

he looked good. good enough to eat.

and you could tell he thought the same of you in your tailored suit. you saw his eyes darken from all the way across the room.

this was all part of his plan, of course.

he smiled. washed his hands, didn’t wipe away the droplets. he raked his eyes all over you, dark, wanting.

“hi, baby,” he purred.

you took off your shoes hastily, hurried to his side, pushed him against the counter and pushed your lips against his…

…to end up here, dress shirt wide open, tongue down his throat, arms pinned to the kitchen island by his large, large hands. his poor apron forgotten across the room.

there isn’t an inch of free space between the two of you — satoru simply refuses to let you drift away. you can feel his impatience all over him, little whines escaping his lips that you drink eagerly, narrow hips pressed to the furniture as if to give himself relief. you won’t have it, you refuse. his relief will be you or nothing.

“how was your day, satoru?” you smile against him.

he returns it, body shivering at his name falling from your lips. his hot mouth trails down to your shoulder, to leave no part of you untouched, untasted. “missed you,” he whispers with a push of his hips against you.

“hm, is that it?”

a hand leaves yours to flatten on your belly — he pushes you down easily and takes his rightful place, right on top of you. white hair tickles your skin as he makes his way back up until… “yeah,” he grins, eyes so dark you can barely breathe. his smile is all teeth. “that’s it.”

without your permission your thighs move to rub against one another. it doesn’t escape him. you try to turn your head away, to flee from his teasing. he follows. he always does.

“look at me, pretty,” he bites into your neck. “you want something from me?”

you do — you want his fingers knuckles deep inside you. and the absolute best part is, you know how bad he wants it, too, to see you come undone with his touch. you see it, you feel it in his every move. the need.

you feel it in the tight grip his hand has on your own, on your waist to keep you pressed against the marble. in the very, very slight tremor of his thighs close to yours, kept tightly under his control. in the tensing, untensing of his every muscle — restraint he’s giving his all to maintain. in the glorious pink of his cheeks, the sweat already accumulating on his flawless skin. he wants it. he wants you to ask for it.

but your satoru’s been quite spoiled lately. he’s gotten used to getting his way every time, little prince. it wouldn’t hurt him to work for it. you want to make him work for it.

you don’t answer him. instead, you keep him busy with your tongue tracing his lips, one hand trailing your nails down the soft hair of his undercut — earning you another full body shiver — while with the other you unbuckle your belt on your own.

it’s easy, after that, to shove your hand under your panties. satoru pushes himself off you, to better watch.

you make a show of it, just for him. making sure to really coat your fingers with your slick. two tight circles on your clit aren’t enough to relieve the pressure, but you trust him to come around and take care of it — he’s so good at taking care of you. you throw your head back with a soft whine, arch yourself into him, and in the hot air you share with him your hand comes back up, fingers glistening.

he looks jealous. already, he’s moving — moving to take your hand in his and taste — but you won’t have it. before he can do anything about it, you pop your fingers into your mouth, sucking yourself off them.

satoru’s eyebrows knit briefly, but his smile widens. his breaths are reduced to pathetic, shallow pants. if you push him a little more, will you get him drooling, tongue hanging out like a puppy? you bet you could. but today isn’t the day to find out. you want his fucking fingers.

he doesn’t let you think about it any longer. “can i?” he rasps, leaning down. his tongue runs over his teeth.

you don’t think about it. you nod your head, and he dives.

licking into your mouth desperately, moaning like he's having the time of his life. it’s so easy to meet him halfway, to suck his tongue in your mouth, to swallow all his little whimpers — so good, baby, fuck — you want it all, so you take it all.

he only stops to rest against your mouth and whine, “you taste so good, i wish you could eat yourself out.”

he catches you completely off guard. you have no answer to that, so brilliantly, you say, “huh?”

he noses at your cheek and explains, “i want to eat your cum straight from your mouth.”

and that’s enough of that — you’ve run out of patience. you think you’ve wrecked him enough, in any case, to hear such things spewing out of his mouth. you feel him throbbing. you are, too.

“can’t have that, angel,” you pant against him. “but you can make me cum.”

you can feel his smile. “i thought you’d never ask.”

his fingers slide down your body, under your pants, taking the same route yours did. only it’s much harder for him — they’re much bigger.

satoru wastes no time. the stretch is immediate, big finger pushing into you slowly. your hand knitted in his hair tugs him down to you. his moan is even louder than yours.

he stays there for a moment, savoring it, licking at your lips, your neck, the underside of your jaw — moaning like an animal in heat, like he could cry from the relief your hot walls hugging his fingers bring.

cherry red on his cheeks, down his neck and the glimpse of his heaving chest his shirt gives you. hot pants fanning your lips. crazed. feverish. delirious. wide smile, canines glimmering in the light. oh, you’ve been waiting for this. you want more of him, you need more of him. your hands move against your will, almost tearing open his clothing. a huff of laughter warms your cheek.

but your love is as impatient as you.

a second finger pumps into you, slow and steady. you mewl, and with your encouragement satoru rises on his elbow to increase the pace.

“feel good, sweetheart?” he pants.

you couldn’t keep quiet if you tried.

“yeah,” you smile. “i feel fucking good.”

then you sink your teeth straight into his neck and delight at the wild buck of his hips, the sinful cry he gifts you.

his entire body moves with him. his hips grind into you, shameless, desperate, following his hand’s movement — and so does his tongue, fucking into your mouth like he wants you everywhere, wants to be inside you everywhere, wants to bury himself into you. drool drops down his chin. you drink it.

every beautiful sound that comes from him, every whimper, every harsh breath, every high-pitched moan is rewarded with a soft murmur of yours — so good, angel, so good for me, so good! his pace increases, his bicep is bulging, his back tenses, his eyes cross, he’s so close, you’ve got him right where you want him.

the pressure in your lower belly grows stronger with every expert stroke. he touches everywhere, a tender caress pumped into you by the strengths of his arm and pelvis together. mimicked perfectly by his tongue tugging at your lips, stroking your own, invading your mouth. you feel it grow, grow, until—

you come undone right there on his hand, in your pants, with a loud cry of his name, digging his nails into his shoulders — in retaliation, and partly to stave of his own orgasm, you’re sure of it, his bites the soft flesh of your neck, a wail dying in the back of his throat.

you come down together, chests rising and falling against one another, hot breaths warming the air around you. he’s still throbbing against your thighs, fingers slowed to shallow thrusting, as if he couldn’t bear to let the moment end just yet. you force him to still by smothering his hand with your thighs.

satoru makes his way back to your lips, leaving behind a trail of wet kisses and a singular bite on your cheek, one you answer with a giggle.

“that was a good one, baby,” he says against your mouth. “how many more can i give you?”

“depends. how many more can you take?”

he doesn’t answer. instead, he smiles. his hand resurfaces from your underwear, soaked, glistening. he takes a moment to rub his fingers together, admire the slick, the feel of it all over his skin. you take the time he gives you to admire him.

he’s so beautiful, when he gets like this.

his hand rises, heading for his face. your gut clenches, thighs rubbing together in anticipation, a deep breath filling your lungs—

his tongue lolls out and his soaked fingers come to take their rightful place right onto it. his lips close around his hand. his cheeks hollow as he sucks.

baby blues rolling to the back of his head, satoru trembles, wracked with a full body shudder and a moan so sinfully loud you swear it echoes against the walls. his throbbing cock rubs on your thigh.

he allows himself one, two, three finger-deep thrusts into his mouth, practically fucking himself, gagging on his own hand, putting on the most wonderful show for you. just to make sure there’s not a droplet left.

then his fingers leave his mouth with a loud pop! and he looks back down at you. crazed. feverish. delirious. eyes so dark you can barely breathe.

looking good enough to eat.

later on, after a lot more cum from both parties and a well-deserved bath, you rush into the kitchen, praying your apartment isn’t about to burn down. satoru was, after all, supposed to be making you dinner.

when you lean over the countertops, you find that the stove was never on.

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