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writingroom21 · 6 months ago

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Okay imagine this reader goes in a all boys school pretending to be a dude to cover up her brother but soon rafe later knows she's a girl since she's in the guys shower room😫

A/N: I literally love this idea so much. She's The Man is one of my favorite movies.

Boys Bathroom

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex(wrap it up), p in v, overstimulation, squirting, oral (f receiving), fingering, semi public sex (communal bathroom), (let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 3.6K

The plan was simple. You would go to the school for two weeks and then swap places again. It shouldn’t be that hard to fool everyone since the two of you are twins. Since your parents found out they were having twins they got the two of you matching things. Your cribs, toys, clothes were all bought to match.

The only downside was one of you is a girl and the other is a boy.

When the news was broken to them, they had mixed emotions. On one hand they get the best of both worlds with one of each. The other is that they planned on having the same gender twice. They tried to look past it and throughout childhood it was fine. Your dad had the perfect little boy to play catch and watch sports with. Your mom had a little angel that she could dress up and show around.

It was all perfect until you hit puberty. Max, your brother stayed the perfect son that he always was. But you had become the wild child of the family. You weren’t really wild, just not the picture perfect daughter they had in mind. In middle school you started to not want your mom to dress you, leading to arguments about how you dressed.

Then now in highschool you are focused on being an artist, which isn’t an ambitious enough job for them. You would think that after their divorce they would stop agreeing with each other. But no they will always agree on one thing, you are too much to handle. They just don’t like how outspoken you are and how you will not conform to the version of you they want.

They focus on you so much they don’t even realize that it’s Max they should be worrying about. Sure he gets good grades and he never gets in trouble, it doesn’t mean he’s not doing things. You are always covering for him so he can sneak out of the house. Driving him around after he got so drunk with his friends that he can’t function. They don’t see that side of him so they worship the ground he walks on.

They love him so much that they are now sending him to a prestigious all boys school. Max has been complaining about it all week since they told him. It’s a boarding school so he will be under 24/7 supervision. Which is a no in his books. Max has done everything basically to try and get out of this to no luck. Leading us to the moment the plan was formed.

“Come on please. Just do this one thing for me.” Max pleads at the end of your bed. You continue reading your book ignoring him and his weird request. He says your name to get your attention. “I’ll get you something when I come back. A token from Bora Bora sounds nice right?” You scoff at his audacity. “Dude I’m not going to pretend to be you so you can go on some vacation. It wouldn’t even work, you're a guy and I’m not.” Max throws himself on your bed, face planting onto the sheets. “If you do this for me I’ll get mom and dad to lay off your art school decision.” The book drops from your hands and you stare at him. You don’t have to think, getting them off your back is much needed. “Fine.”

The wig itches your scalp as you fix your clothes making sure your binding doesn’t come loose. The last thing you need is for it to come undone and your boobs come out. It;s the second day at the school, everyone seems to be buying that you are Max. Your best friend had shown you how to place wigs on, making sure that it can’t get loose. It seems to be staying in place so you can’t complain. You have to get used to squishing your boobs so much but it’ll be okay.

Your parent’s had splurged for Max to have his own dorm so you get to relax in your own space thank god. It would have been perfect if it weren’t for the boy next door. You had been unpacking when a knock interrupted you. Alright show time. You open the door to be greeted with one of the hottest guys you have ever seen. He has to be at least six feet tall, with hair you just want to wrap your fingers around. Don’t even get you started on his blue eyes.

You were so caught up with checking him out that you didn’t notice he said something. “Hello?” He questions with this weird look. “Huh?” You clear your throat and make your voice deeper. “Sorry, what did you say?” You stand up straighter, trying to make you look taller. “Said I’m Rafe. I'm in the room right next door.” He points to the left.

“Nice to meet you, I'm.” Your name almost slips out but you covered it with a cough. “My name's Max. Want to come in.” Rafe shrugs, entering and looking around your room. There’s not really much to look at. The walls are bare and the clothes are all put away. The desk has books for the classes you’ll be in and unfortunately a box of pads. Rafe spins around to you.

“Dude why the fuck do have those?” He practically shrieks. He’s pointing behind him and you follow it to see the box. Fuck you had forgotten to put them away. “Oh I have a twin sister that likes to prank me. She always packs something embarrassing in my bags.” You try to explain. Rafe listens as you fumble through your words, kinda weirded out that some dude has chick products.

“You have a twin?” He really doesn’t believe you. Instead of explaining further you pull out your phone, finding a picture of yourself to show him. Rafe looks at the photo and then at you trying to find similarities. “I can see it.” He looks closer at it again. “You know she’s kinda hot.” A blush forms on your cheeks. “Thank you.” Your eyes widen when you realize what you said.

“I mean she would say thank you or something dumb like that.” You laugh off. Rafe just nods at you slowly making his way towards the door. He can’t wait to get out of this room, something about you just isn’t right. “Right. Uh I gotta go. See ya man.” He was out of the room as soon as the words left his mouth. Leaving you there hoping you didn’t give yourself away.

The next few days you saw Rafe everywhere. He was in two of your classes, English and Biology. You’re thankful that your English teacher had assigned setting by last name. You were far away from him but your eyes would still find him. Looking at the back of his head and averting your eyes when he looks back at you. It didn’t help that he decided to be your lab partner for biology.

He sat down next to you, throwing his books down without saying a word. He doesn’t know why he can’t stay away. Rafe feels like something is wrong but at the same time he wants to figure out what. It’s the reason why he sat next to you and why he notices the things you do. He tries to play it off as if he gets close to you that he’ll likely get with your twin. If only he knew it was actually you.

The two of you watch each other in the cafeteria as you eat. Eyes meeting and looking away just to look back. At this point Rafe thinks you're gay, he has nothing wrong with that, it's not his type though. His friends are talking around him but his brain is playing a game of tennis. Throwing ideas out left and right.

Maybe you are just socially awkward and that's why you act like that around him. Or you are from some freaky conservative family that sheltered you for too long. All his thoughts just keep playing in his mind, every interaction on display to dissect. This game of cat and mouse continues for the first week you are there. You are just counting down the days until you can leave.

The stress of not getting caught has been eating you alive. Both of your parents have been texting you to go to their house since you weren’t there the following week. They think you are still staying at the other parents house. A risky plan but they only talk to each other when you do something they don’t like or when Max does good in something. The idea of them finding out has been eating you alive.

You had called Max, anxiety getting the best of you. “What do you want?” The call is a little fuzzy, his international plan seems to be only doing okay. “You need to come home like now. I can’t keep doing this.” You can hear people talking in the background of his call. He says something to them and the noise dies down. “Listen it’s just one more week you can do it.”

“Max no you need to come home. Mom and dad keep asking me to come home. What if they find out?” If he was there right now he would slap the back of your head to have your senses come back. You’ve always had the flare for dramatics in his eyes. “Relax mom and dad arent going to find out. I’ll be back before they even notice. Just one more week.” You give in knowing that he won’t come back.

In the hallway Rafe was making his way to his room after coming back from a run. He was in the middle of taking his headphones off when he heard voices coming from your room. Curiosity got the better of him and he moved closer to the door, resting an ear on it to get a better shot. He heard it all, from the begging of your brother to come back to him saying he’ll be back in a week. What he can’t really understand is the voices.

Without a doubt he believes the female voice to be you, Max’s twin sister. What he can’t wrap his head around is the male voice on the other end. In his mind he knows that it’s you, it had to be. But the voice sounds different, the tone and octave aren’t the same that he’s been hearing. It's confusing to say the least. He goes to his room when he hears the call end, piecing together all the information that he knows. Which isn’t much.

You get awkward around him when he tries to talk to you in class, acting like a pre-teen who can’t talk to girls. Now that he thinks about it there’s a good chance you are gay. He catches you checking him out in English and the lunch room. Always tables away with your eyes glued to him. Then there are the times where he will see you blush at something he says. Rafe knows he’s a good looking guy. Girls were constantly throwing themselves at him before his dad sent him off to this shit hole.

He ignores the rest of his thoughts as he winds down from his run. Taking the necessary post workout vitamins and shakes he has. During this time you had made your way to the bathroom. Having to share a communal bathroom has not been ideal for this situation. The only times you can shower is super early in the morning and late at night. Since you are not a morning person, night showers it is.

Peaking your head out your door you check the hallway to make sure no one is coming. Once the coast is clear you book it to the bathroom, running into the shower stalls. The stalls don’t have doors, just two curtains. You would think for the amount of money it takes to go here they would have better showering options. You strip in the first section letting the water heat up. When the water is hot enough you get in. Even for the lousy coverage they do have nice showers.

It was large enough to have double the space needed. There was a detachable shower head that had amazing water pressure. Plus a little bench to keep your stuff on not only in the changing space but the shower as well. Let’s just say that these showers have been the highlight to all of this mess. You get under the running stream, the water coats your body. Warming you up as you stand under the stream.

You go through your routine. Washing your hair you start to hum to a song that’s been stuck in your head. Getting lost in the moment you sign the lyrics softly, switching to different songs that randomly popped up. You were so distracted that you didn’t hear that someone had walked into the bathroom. Rafe had come in to wash away the sweat from his run when he heard singing.

He stopped for a moment when he realized it wasn’t a guy singing. That or this poor guy’s balls haven’t dropped. He walks closer to where the sound is coming from. Making sure to keep his footsteps light. The last thing he wants is for the person to hear him and stop. He stops in front of the stall where the voice is coming from. Yeah there’s definitely a chick in there he thinks. Without really thinking about what he’s doing and how he’s close to becoming a creep. He pulls the first curtain aside, walking in. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

You let out a small scream, scared from the sound of Rafe’s voice. You stand there frozen not knowing what to do. You’ve been caught, the person on the other side obviously knows you aren’t a guy. “Well?” You let yourself grab the curtain, pulling it around you so you can look at the person. “I’m so sorry. It’s a really long story actual-” Your words die when you see who it is. Rafe.

He’s as shocked as you are, both of you have wide eyes. “Your Max’s twin.” Then he says your name, to double check he had it right. “What the fuck are you doing here.” You want to answer, you really do. But his towel is hanging low on his waist, his toned stomach on display. That’s when it clicked to him, Max wasn’t gay because it wasn’t Max. It was you.

It all makes so much sense now. “Max wanted to go on vacation so he had me pretend to be him.” You don’t look him in the eyes. Mostly out of shame of being caught, the other being that you are too busy checking him out. You can’t help but wonder what he looks like without it on. A pink blush graces your cheeks at the thought. The reaction is noticed by Rafe.

He then realizes you are naked behind that curtain. Your wet body is right there for him to grab, only separated by thin plastic. He looks you up and down, mostly seeing your silhouette due to the curtin being slightly white. His dick is getting hard just thinking about you and how wet you must feel. He covers himself with a hand the other holding his shower stuff. “So you’ve been pretending to be him this whole time?”

“Yup.” You clutch the plastic to your chest, the water hitting the back of you. “Well this is awkward now.” He scratches the back of his neck looking at the ground. “I told you that I thought you were hot.” He laughs, shaking his head. When his hand falls back to his side you take it in yours. Hoping that your bicep can help the plastic keep you covered. “It’s okay. I think you're hot too.”

Maybe it's the fact that he has a pretty girl in front of him or the fact he hasn’t been laid in a while since being her, but he’s about to lose control. Fuck he’s been so desperate that he imagined you that night after seeing your photo as he masturbated. This is honestly a dream come true for him. He laces his fingers with yours, placing his things down.

“You know I read somewhere that we should be saving as much water as we can. Mind if I get in with you?” Rafe never read that anywhere. The only reading he does is when he’s texting or doing school work. You will never catch him reading something about climate change or whatever. You smirk as you look up at him, dropping the curtain to take his towel off. “Mhmmm. Wouldn’t want to be wasteful.” He leans over you, his height allowing him to see all of you as he looks down.

Your hands graze up his thigh, fingertips dancing along his dick. One of his hands cups your face to bring you in for a kiss, the other plays with a nipple. He backs you up to the wall and deepens the kiss. His hand moving lower to rub your clit. Your hand tightens around him, a moan slipping your lips.

He pulls back to watch your face, wanting to absorb every moan you let out. From the side of his eye he sees the shower head. He smirks down at you, pulling his hand back and taking yours off him. “Is everything okay?” You’re worried something happened and he wants to stop. “Yeah pretty girl it is. Why don’t you sit on that bench for me?” Even though it was a question he meant it as a command.

You hesitate at first, concerned about how sanitary it is. Then you see the look in those pretty blue eyes and your concerns vanish. Sitting down, you watch as he takes the shower head down, switching the stream setting. He’s probably going to regret this later but he kneels down on the tiles. Positioning the shower head between your legs, the strong stream hits your clit. You didn’t see that he adjusted the water temperature so it wasn’t burning hot.

“That feel good?” Your hand flies to his shoulder, nails marking his flesh. “So good.” You moan out, trying to be mindful of your volume. Rafe gently moves the head around, creating circles on your clit. It feels so fucking good. He leans over you, attaching his mouth to one of your nipples. He sucks on it while his unoccupied hand finds your entrance, teasing a finger in you.

Rocking the finger back and forth, he adds a second when he feels you relax around him. The sensation of his mouth, finger, and water is too much. You are biting so hard on your lip to stay quiet that you’re bleeding. You release your lip with a wince, the sharp sting radiates in your bottom lip. Rafe looks up at the sound, eyes clocking the red coming from the cut. “Poor baby.”

He licks the blood, giving a quick suck to your lip to make sure he got everything. “It’s just too much for you, isn't it? Hmm?” He taunts as his fingers increase in speed. Your climax is right there, you can feel it in your fingertips. “Please Rafe. I” You sob rips it’s way out of your throat, your orgasim over powering. You are physically shaking from the intensity but he doesn’t let up. He keeps the water right where it is, his fingers increase their pace. He goes back to sucking on your nipples. You try to tell him it’s too much but all that comes out is moans.

It feels like your orgasim is never ending. Then with one more stroke to your g-spot you were gushing. Rafe takes the shower head away, still fingering you to get you to squirt more. You keep drenching him, his fingers now rubbing your clit furiously only making it worse. He drops the shower head, his hand shooting up to cover your mouth. Silencing you moans as the last bit comes gushing out of you. You’re spent, body limp from that earth shattering orgasim.

“That was so fucking hot.” Rafe bends down and starts to lick you clean. Dying to get a taste of you. You push his head away from how sensitive you are. Your clit feels like it’s on fire. He pulls you up and turns you around to bend over on the bench. He’s not going to last long, he was close to blowing his loud just watching you. There’s just no way in hell he’s giving up his only chance to fuck you.

Before you could protest he’s already slipping in. You’re so wet that he slides right in and bottoms out. He gives you a second to adjust and then he’s ramming his hip into you. You’re still sensitive so your next release builds up quickly. He wants to be embarrassed from how fast he comes, he really does. He just can’t find it in him to really care.

You feel so good wrapped around him, your walls constricting him so tight. He barely had room to keep fucking you as you second orgasim ripped through you. He quickly followed, pulling himself out and jerking off so he could paint your ass. It’s okay because he’ll wash it off of you in a second. You get up after getting your bearings and the two of you wash off. “That was really fucking good.” You dream out loud.

Rafe gives you a kiss, nibbling on your lips. You wince due to the cut. “Sorry.” He gives it a kiss better. “Same time tomorrow?” You smile and nod.

Safe to say the following week was spent sneaking off at any given chance you had.

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #drew starkey smut #outer banks smut #rafe x you #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe

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chuuyascumsock · 1 year ago

Text

I am NOT a Sadist (I am) || Minors DNI

Summary; Sorry, not sorry. I love when there’s hurt feelings with emotional make-up sex :)

Tags; Chuuya Nakahara/Reader, Female reader, Angst, Mentions Of Depression, Hurt/Comfort, I Totally Projected My Poor Communication Skills Onto The MC, Also Self Sabotaging, But She Gets Better I Swear, I Project A Lot Actually Lmao, Sounds Kind Of Like An Unhealthy Relationship At First But They Fix It, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, They Do Hurt Each Other’s Feelings A Little, Obviously There’s Crying, Pet Names (Baby, Doll, Sweetheart, Sweet Girl, etc.), Mention Of Phone Sex, Handjob, Fingering, Emotional Sex, Make-Up Sex, Creampie, Lowkey Breeding Kink If You Squint, Actually Pretty Vanilla For Once, Pussy Is Chuuya’s Therapy, Classic Missionary, Missionary Accomplished, Why Does No One Talk About Chuuya Going On His Overseas Trips And Leaving His S/O For Months At A Time, I Feel Like It’s Such A Good Angst Idea, My Longest Oneshot Yet Btw At A 5k Wordcount.

The honeymoon phase of your relationship with Chuuya ended quicker than you had anticipated. It felt like a slap in the face in all honesty, unexpecting of what you were really getting into as a normal civilian. Being married to an executive of the port mafia had its many upsides, yet no one really seemed to talk about the downsides and struggles of the mental toll that weighed on your conscience that came with the title as Chuuya’s wife.

Chuuya had always been there when you needed him, and you were grateful that even with his rough exterior and conflict with opening up emotionally he could empathize with your varying issues and emotional outbursts. You tried not to be emotionally high maintenance for the sake of Chuuya already having so much on his plate, and things had seemed to be going well for the time being.

Until he went away for his first overseas trip during your marriage.

It was normal for Chuuya to take overseas trips while you were dating, some lasting a few days to a few weeks at most and during those times you often texted him throughout the day about how much you missed him before calling later on when he was lying exhausted in a hotel room to talk about how both of your days had gone. Of course, it had often led to phone sex, ending with the camera angled against a pillow while your fingers worked in and out of your neglected, needy pussy– your face buried into his pillow and smothering your senses with what was left of his presence in your apartment. And Chuuya would stroke his throbbing length at the sight with languid motions, thumb swiping over his leaking tip as he murmured through the speaker about how he wished he could be there to feel you split open on his cock and fill you up with his cum. And every time he came back from his trips, your relationship seemingly grew stronger from the distance, spending all his free time with you whenever he got the chance.

And then Mori sent him away on a half year mission to Europe and everything seemed to go to shit.

It was different when you had been dating as it was for a few days to some weeks at most, but a six-month excursion made your throat clench and your heart ache with saudade. You tried to keep a positive mindset, yet it was harder as each day had passed and Chuuya grew too tired from the days’ events to even call anymore. Messages on his side grew shorter and dull by the end of the third month, only sending a small good morning and good night text with the occasional ‘I love you’.

Instead of bringing it up or attempting to fix it, you felt a sense of hopelessness and withdrew from him as well, not wanting to burden him with your spamming messages or feelings that could hinder him while dealing with an important mission. You spent the next three months stewing in a depressive state, loneliness eating away at you as you went day to day going to your job and coming back to an empty apartment. You stopped going out with your friends, stopped bothering to take care of yourself– completely ruining your sleeping and eating schedule in the process– leaving you with dark bags under your eyes and slightly paler looking complexion. You had grown so comfortable in Chuuya’s love and had no idea how to handle the situation you were in, fearing of saying something that would upset him.

When Chuuya had come back, he hadn’t noticed the change in your behavior– too tired himself to see the toll his absence had taken on you. But to you, your straining relationship was apparent, and it only fueled your depression as Chuuya spent less time with you when he got back home than he used to when you were dating. He was either working on other missions given by Mori within the area or spent his free time sleeping. You barely felt as if you were married anymore, your relationship seeming more like roommates who rarely ever interacted every passing day.

Your deteriorating mental health was beginning to wear your mind and patience thin, leading to a series of outbursts and fights between the two of you. You’d snap at him with an antagonizing start, and he’d finish with a frustrating end, either leaving to cool off or going to sleep on the couch. You could tell it was getting to him because he confronted you one day after he had mentioned that Mori was thinking about sending him on another grueling months-long overseas mission in America and you gave him the cold shoulder, closing yourself off from him.

“What the hell has been your problem lately, huh? You’ve been acting shitty for the last few weeks and it’s really starting to get on my nerves,” He gripes, crossing his arms over his chest defensively as he leans against the kitchen counter.

“I don’t have a problem, you’re the one starting things,” You tiredly glare at the words in your novel, wanting to read and forget everything falling apart around you, but it’s hard when Chuuya persists.

Chuuya scoffs, “Bullshit, you have this nasty attitude and it's been bothering the hell out of me– so what the hell is your problem?” He repeats, his eyes burning holes into the side of your apathetic expression from across the room.

“Good thing you won’t have to deal with it for long, huh?” You respond flatly, avoiding his question once again. You and Chuuya have always had an issue with things like this due to him being blunt when he was upset about something while you tended to dance around it and drawl the problem on longer than it had to be than if you were to talk about your problems from the start.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” His jaw sets, teeth clenching behind his scowl, “You know it annoys the hell out of me when you say cryptic shit like that— answer my question.” Chuuya’s temper was something no one enjoyed testing and you once feared setting him off, but now you couldn’t find it in you to care whether he blew up on you or not.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your next mission?” You’re metaphorically poking more than just a bear at this point; this is an entire fucking lion you’re sticking your hand into the mouth of– waiting for it to rip you apart.

Chuuya’s steps are heavy as he approaches you with a stern glare, “I’m not leaving until you tell me, I’m tired of these games, [name].”

His words make you snort bitterly as you mock, “Yeah, okay– like you’re not just Mori’s lapdog– at his every beck and call.” You know he’d leave the minute Mori sent a text or called asking where he was.

Chuuya’s face contorts in mild surprise and slight hurt at your words, not expecting you to stoop so low as to refer to him as a lapdog for Mori. “I really don’t know why the fuck you’re acting like this, but it’s seriously pissin’ me off. Can you just tell me what I supposedly did wrong to make you treat me like this? Because last time I checked, I didn’t fuckin’ do anything,” His statement was ironic in the sense that him not doing anything was the problem.

Your nostrils flare with a deep exhale in spiteful amusement, though nothing was amusing about it, because you knew you were going to regret everything you said after the fight was over.

“Of course, you didn’t,” There’s clear sarcasm in your tone, your hands now messing with the pages of your novel mindlessly.

“Why won’t you just talk to me!? I can’t read your mind– how can I fix a problem when you won’t tell me what I did wrong?” He starts to raise his voice in frustration. You can see his fists clenching from the corners of your eyes.

You only remove yourself further emotionally by shutting down completely. It was common for you to go completely non-verbal in any argument, the stress of the conflict physically affecting you in ways that kept you from speaking– like your throat tightening and tongue growing heavy in your mouth. This was another issue between you and Chuuya as he was the type to raise his voice whilst arguing to make himself and his feelings known, the complete opposite of yourself.

An inkling of doubt buries in your chest as you begin to think that maybe you’re not as compatible with Chuuya as you thought you were.

Chuuya notices your silence and he feels his impatience growing, his foot starting to tap against the floor with agitation as his hands fall to rest on his hips, “God dammit, [name], can you just tell me? I’m not in the mood to play detective and try to figure out why you’re playing your fucking games, I have shit to do.”

You find it in you to respond, though it’s weak and filled with animosity, “You always have shit to do.”

An exasperated sigh leaves Chuuya as he stands in front of you, “Is that what this is about? Because I have work? A job? Believe it or not, the mafia isn’t as lenient as to give me a day off, sweetheart,” He says sarcastically, throwing his hands up for emphasis. “Sorry that I have to serve an organization that will literally have my head if god forbid, I even thought about leaving!”

“You don’t even spend time with me anymore when you do have time off,” You rasp, your eyes set on the crumbling pages underneath your fingertips.

“I’m exhausted because I’m constantly working my ass off! Sorry that I can’t do fuck whatever and whenever like you can! Unlike you, I actually work for the things I want instead of sitting around and waiting for it to just fall into my lap!” Your brows furrow at his words, knowing it’s utter bullshit. But it still gets under your skin.

You could easily quit your job and live off of the makings of what Chuuya has— he’s even offered the idea before— but you wanted to keep a sense of independence and to continue to be productive instead of a burden that burns cash. Your conclusion is that it was to get back at your lapdog comment.

“And you know what? You have nothing to fuckin’ complain about because you get everything you want. Are you just bored? Is that why you’re starting shit? Or is it those friends of yours filling your head with bullshit?” He leans over to your eye level, his hands resting above his knees for support with a firm stare into the side of your face as you refuse to make eye contact with him.

You were over this. All of it. You were tired of the tension, the fighting, feeling the way you were.

Which led the next words to slip out from your mouth without a second thought, “I want a break.”

Chuuya’s scowl quickly shifted to a look of pure bewilderment, to immense hurt and slight panic, then to anger, “A break? You can’t just take a break whenever something doesn’t go your way, that’s not how this works.”

“I don’t care, I want a break,” It’s getting difficult to talk again as you feel your eyes begin to water.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that,” He demands, almost hesitantly.

It takes minutes for you to finally look into his piercing gray eyes without crying and repeat your words, “I want a break.”

His body straightens and he brings a hand to rub at his eyes, his other hand on his hip. He seems disappointed and a whole lot of other emotions, but mostly frustrated at this whole ordeal. There’s a deafening silence before he drags his hand down his face and lets it fall to his side, “You want a break? Fine, I’ll tell Mori I’m going on the mission then and be gone by tomorrow morning— you’ll get your break.” He then storms off to finish getting ready for work, leaving you to sit alone on the couch, regretting everything that just happened.

And even when you still have the chance to stop him from walking out the door and just talk to him, you don’t. Instead, you stare down at the ring on your finger numbly, listening to his heavy footfalls as they move towards the front door and then the slamming that follows when he leaves.

You soon break down crying after, feeling as if you’ve lost everything. You know you could easily fix it with a simple text of wanting to talk things out, but the self-sabotaging nature in you refused to move a muscle. You cry for hours until your body grows exhausted, and you fall asleep on the couch in a tangled mess of some throw blankets and decorative pillows.

Hours later, Chuuya enters your shared apartment quietly, taking his hat off as he runs a hand through his hair. He’s tired just as much as you are with how things are going in your relationship, and he doesn’t know what to do. He’s lost and trying so desperately to figure out how to fix it, but he can’t when you won’t tell him what the problem is. He knows you struggle deep down with telling others about how you feel, and it makes him feel hopeless at times when you won’t even tell him how you feel.

His eyes trail over the living room before they fall on you and the blankets your body is buried under, your sleeping face peeking through. Chuuya takes light steps over to the couch before crouching in front of you and taking off one of his gloves, his hand slowly reaching out to move a few baby hairs away from your face. His eyes soften when he rubs away the tear stains on your cheeks with his thumb.

There’s a small ache in his chest from the events and words exchanged earlier, feeling a growing tightness in his throat. He didn’t mean it when he said those things and he knows you didn’t mean what you said. But that doesn’t mean they didn’t hurt any less.

He begins to feel guilt weighing on his consciousness. He replays all your expressions and words in his mind and starts to think about your reaction to the whole reason the fight started in the first place. It takes a few moments of him silently sitting next to the couch and caressing your face mindlessly until he finally realizes what’s been wrong the whole time.

When you wake up hours later, you’re no longer on the couch, but placed comfortably in your bed. You rub the crust from your eyes and feel a heavy weight in your chest like a bag of stones when the spot next to you is void of Chuuya. ‘He actually left,’ You thought, but you knew you had no one to blame but yourself— even if you had hoped that he would stay. Now fully awake, you slip out of bed sluggishly and shuffle out your bedroom.

A faint voice from the living room catches your attention and you notice that it’s the TV. There’s a small spark of hope that flickers in your stomach as you slowly creep into the living room. Relief settles in your heart to see the back of Chuuya’s head peeking from the couch. You make your way around the couch timidly until you’re in Chuuya’s sights. He stares tiredly at the TV before he sees you move into his view from the corner of his eye and looks over to you.

“I… thought you were going to go on the mission…” You whisper, anxiously twisting and fidgeting with the end of your oversized shirt that slightly hangs off your shoulders.

“I had Mori get someone else to do it,” Chuuya responds quietly, his eyes traveling your figure from top to bottom before propping an arm on the backrest of the couch as a silent invitation for you to sit next to him.

As soon as you sit next to him, his arm shifts until his callous hand rests on the nape of your neck, rubbing at your skin in a soothing manner. He pulls you into his side after a few moments and turns his face slightly to press a soft kiss against your hairline.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around,” He starts off, sincere in each word as he continues, “Why didn’t you say anything?” It sounds almost rhetorical because you know he knows why on a surface level, but he doesn’t know why.

You’re silent for a bit before hesitantly answering, “I didn’t want to stress you out by making you feel like you had to constantly tend to me.”

“You’re my wife, not a burden. No matter how stressed out I am, I don’t want you to ever think that you can’t come to me with your feelings or just to bother me. I know I was gone for a long time, and I shouldn’t’ve become as distant as I had, but–” He sighs out in exasperation, “–Baby, you’ve gotta communicate with me. I don’t wanna fight like this and worry about our marriage. I want us to work out– I need us to work out because…” Chuuya trails off before moving his body to turn towards you and tilt your chin up with his other hand to look you in the eyes.

“I need you, [name]. You’re my person. Okay?”

Your chest throbs and aches at his words as his slate gray eyes flicker over your face and then meet your now watering eyes, “You’re my person too, Chuuya. I’m sorry…” You croak out through quivering lips and break down into tears, leaning forward to bury your face into his chest. “M’sorry– didn’t mean anything I said last night– won’t do it again,” You stumble over your words through muffled sobs.

Chuuya moves his hand from your chin to hold the back of your head, pressing you into his chest as he kisses the top of your head, “I know you didn’t, sweetheart. I didn’t mean what I said either. You know I love you, right?”

You nod, your small sobs and hiccups muted by his loose tank top as you hug your arms around his torso to pull him to you as close as possible, “I love you too…”

He pulls you back reluctantly from your embrace and cups your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs, “I promise that I’ll make an effort to be a better husband, I don’t want you to feel like that ever again. I shouldn’t have neglected you like that and made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me. That’s the last thing that I want.”

“I’m gonna do better too, promise,” You sniffle, trying to hold back from anymore tears falling down your face, “Wanna be better for you.”

“I wanna be better for you too, doll,” He murmurs before his face grows closer to yours to place a soft, innocent kiss against your lips.

Your hands come to clasp over his own that cup your face and your eyes lull into his fond gaze, “I missed you,” You whisper with longing.

“I missed you too, baby. It killed me not being able to wake up next to you every morning n’see your pretty face,” He exhales gently, kissing you again.

Your heart stutters at his words and you reciprocate the kiss, refusing to pull away as quickly as before. When your lashes flutter open, you lean your face into his touch, “I need you, Chuuya,” And it’s clear to him that it wasn’t meant in just an innocent manner.

“Yeah? Missed me that much, sweet girl?” His nose nudges against yours affectionately before capturing your lips into a sensual kiss. Feeling his lips smother against yours and the ring on his finger to remind you of his undying love and devotion to you only encourages the simmering heat in your chest and lower stomach. And when he mumbles a muffled, “C’mere,” against your lips, you’re quick to climb into his lap and thread a hand into his ginger hair. He hums in amusement at your eagerness and moves his lips to trail pecks along your jaw and down your throat, “Always were so needy f’me and I fuckin’ love it– love everything about you, doll.” He groans under his breath, hands heavily groping at any part of your plush body to keep you against him.

“Only for you, it’s always been you,” You breathe out with a shaky exhale and Chuuya is unable to hide the small whimper that escapes the back of his throat.

“Fuck, it’s always been you too, doll. I love you so much it hurts,” He pulls you back down into a desperate and hungry open-mouthed kiss, his tongue seeking out until his muscle is entangling with yours.

Your face flushes with warmth as you mold your lips against his feverishly, head tilting to deepen the kiss until you’re both panting for air into each other’s mouths, “Please…” You plead, squirming in his lap.

“I know, babydoll, I feel it too,” Chuuya groans quietly, feeling your thinly clothed pussy skim over the bulge in his gym shorts. “Wanna take this slow though, need to feel all of you, okay?” His hands cup the bottom of your thighs as he moves off the couch to stand up, your lips not parting for even a second as he makes his way to your bedroom and over to the bed. When his shins bump against the bottom frame of the bed, he leans over to lay you down on the mattress gently, lips leaving yours to move back down the expanse of your neck. You shiver, fingers messily tangling into his locks of hair whilst your other hand finds its way in between your bodies to run your hand over his erection. “F-Fuck,” Chuuya breathes out against the skin of your throat, hips jerking forward into your touch. “God, it’s been so long, I almost came,” He admits with embarrassment before latching onto a small patch of your skin to suckle at, pressing kisses to the spot occasionally.

“Baby, please— wanna touch you so bad,” Was all you had to whine before he slips his baggy gym shorts off to reveal his stiff, throbbing cock. Your hand wraps around him, thumb pressing to his leaking slit to swipe at the precum dribbling out to spread it along his length with a few pumps of your hand. There’s a quiet “schlick” each time your wrist flicks to draw your hand back up to his angry mushroom tip before moving back down to the base of his shaft.

Chuuya is unashamed when he lets out airy moans against your neck that’s now littered with his love marks, “Shit, you’re s’fuckin’ good, baby— just like that.” His right hand finds its way under your large shirt to grab at your underwear and pull at it until it tears off you.

“Chuuya,” You whine in complaint, watching him toss the now torn fabric onto the floor, “I liked those.”

“S’okay, I’ll get you more, sweetheart, promise,” His teeth dig into his bottom lip as he slips his middle and ring finger through your folds to spread your glistening sex open. “Look at how fucking wet you are, you like jerkin’ me off that much, pretty girl?” He groans, eyes glued to your hole clenching around nothing.

You bury your face into the crook of his neck timidly as your hand pumping around his cock falters slightly from the way he talks, “C-Chuuya…”

Chuuya chuckles before softly moaning into the side of your head, face nuzzling affectionately into your hair, “C’mon, doll, don’t be shy, look at how your sweet little cunt takes my fingers.”

Flustered, you peek from his neck to watch his digits dip into your arousal, dragging them up to circle over your clit a few times and then slipping down to sink into your pulsing walls. Whilst his fingers weren’t considered long, they have you twitching from pleasure with how thick they are. “Feels good,” You slur out as your hand squeezes around the base of his cock.

“Yeah? You love it when I stretch this pussy out with my fat fingers, huh?” He sucks in a short breath as he tries not to come right then and there in your hand as he fingers his digits in and out of your squelching pussy. “My sweet girl likes having her hole stuffed by her husband, hm,” His fingers work faster in and out of your cunt as he angles his thumb to draw rough circles into your needy clit.

Your grip and stroking around his length only continues to falter as your thighs spasm softly, “M’gonna come— fuck— Chuu, noo, no, no…” You squirm, your other hand tugs his hair.

“What’s wrong, doll?” Chuuya’s fingers slow to a stop, causing you to whimper from the ebbing buildup of your orgasm. He’s the same as you when he feels your hand come to a stop around his shaft.

“Wanna come on your cock,” You mumble into him, “Want you to fill me up with your cum.”

Chuuya feels his heart thrum in his throat wildly as he hears you speak before making quick work of your shirt and his tank top until you're both as bare as you were when you were brought into the world. “Yeah? Need me to fill your cute pussy up until my cum is spilling outta ya?” He hovers over you between your spread thighs as he hooks your legs over his hips.

“Just wanna feel you close to me,” You admit with a sweet and quiet voice, your legs drawing him in until his throbbing cock is rubbing between your pussy lips with his tip nudging at your puffy clit.

His eyes widen barely before softening, his movements becoming less erratic and eager as he leans down to place a gentle kiss against your lips. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, doll, m’gonna take care of ya like I always do.” He whispers, his right hand moving to guide the tip of his cock against the entrance of your core. Much like his fingers, his thick length bullies into your warm pussy slowly, stretching and splitting you open on his cock. “Fuuuuck, baby, you take me so well. Can’t get enough of seeing you stretch open on me.”

Your legs tighten around him as you feel his hips press against yours until his balls are flush with your ass, “You’re s’big— it hurts every time, but it hurts good,” A small whimper leaves you as your hands grip at the bedsheets.

When Chuuya pulls away, he watches his cock twitch from the loss of warmth your tight hole provided before seeing it stretch you back open to fill you. “God, I’ll never get over you,” He hisses through his teeth, pistoning his cock in and out of you at an agonizing pace, “Your pussy was made for me.”

Chuuya’s gaze isn’t on where your bodies connect for long before he’s back to hovering over you, pinning your hands above your head. They’re placed palm up on top of one another before being locked in place with his left hand interlocking your fingers. The action makes your heart tighten with affection as well as your fingers when you squeeze his hand. The subtle noise of metal clinking from your wedding bands only makes your heart swell with pure unadulterated love for him further. Your eyes start to water again from the overwhelming emotions and love you feel for him.

He squeezes your hand back in comfort, eyes studying your teary face, “You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that, doll?” He says out of nowhere, “M’so lucky to have you.”

You clench around him as you stare back through blurry eyes back into his focused ones, moaning from the way his tip kisses at your g-spot with each thrust. “Mm— Lucky to have you too— you’re so good to me, Chuu,” You mewl out, feeling your stomach twist and coil with intensity.

“Want you to come for me, please, baby— wanna make you come,” Chuuya’s words grow more pitchy and airier as he reaches his right hand down to rub at your throbbing clit with vigor.

“A-Ah, fuck—“ Your body arches, hips erratically bucking into his, “C-Coming..! Shit, s’too much.” You sob, tears slipping down your temples and into the mattress. Your cries are soon silenced by Chuuya’s lips swallowing your noises in a passionate, yet sloppy kiss. You muffle incoherently against his lips, but he knows it’s a repeated line of I love you’s as your nails dig into the back of his hand and you cream around his length.

As your walls spasm around his twitching cock, a guttural groan leaves his throat and he spills his hot, viscous cum deep into your starving pussy until it’s leaking out of your tight hole and down his balls. “Atta girl…” He murmurs through pants, kissing your sweaty forehead lovingly.

“I love you,” You repeat gently one last time as you both relish in the softness of your afterglow.

“I love you too,” Chuuya sighs with a ghost of a smile on his face as he admires you underneath him, hand coming down from your hands to wipe away your stray tears, “Promise me you won’t go anywhere, doll? Cause I’ve still got years of loving you left to go.”

#chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya smut #chuuya nakahara smut #bsd x reader #bsd smut #devious dambi smuts

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delphi-shield · 1 year ago

Text

push and pull // leon s. kennedy & jill valentine

Leon x Reader x Jill Smut wc: 2,860 mdni - 18+ read on ao3

the plumber at my house reading this over my shoulder: 😲 this has been in my drafts for like two months, i finally ripped the bandaid off and touched it up. i cant believe people want the jill/leon ship name to be jilleon when 'breakfast sandwich' is right there. ohh nooo i had to cut the scene where they high-five after you cum...... guess i'll have to write more jill and leon......what a tragedy.....

summary: Jill said she'd be home two hours ago. She's stood you up for dinner again. You're so upset, Leon's got to fuck you about it to make you feel better.

content: fem!reader, all porn no plot, piv (reader receiving), some praise from leon & some degradation from jill, spit, crying, hair-pulling, masturbation, blowjob, dom!jill, use of strap-on, established poly relationship, sorry yeah there's more religious imagery, stealing the jill & leon dynamic from this post, fucking your relationship problems away does not work and you should not attempt. very loosely proofread.

Jill's late.

She promised. You cooked, you cleaned, and she promised she would be here. Bought a special candle and everything, three wick, fresh linen scent. Not your kind of thing, but you know she likes those clean, bright smells.

The first half hour, you’d clung to the idea that her physical therapy appointment was just running late. Forty-five minutes in, three unanswered texts, your hope diminishes. An hour, and Leon’s helping you put the food up and clean the dishes.

Leon’s not exactly happy with Jill. This isn’t the first time she’s done this to you. He hates to see you pout. Even more than that, he hates to see the way you’re trying not to cry in front of him. He does everything he can think of to make you feel better. Watch one of your godawful shows with you, play with your hair for you, give you a nice bath if you wanted - none of his offers made much of a difference. He knows better than to take it personally. He’s not Jill. He can’t fix what she broke.

He can fuck you about it, though. That always seems to take your mind off things, at least for a little while.

He let you use him however you like, dealer’s choice. You wanted him in the dining room chair, wanted to ride him slow, grind down on that fat cock till you unwound and your pretty tears weren’t because your girlfriend stood you up, and that’s what you’d get. Not his first choice, but he’s not the one who looks so pretty with those big, wet eyes.

The only downside is that you can't hear Jill's key turning in the door when Leon's got his cock stuffed so deep in your pussy you can feel him in your ribs, when you’re too busy rocking yourself to a gradual, slow-built end. You'd missed your ringtone too - and Leon's for that matter. You weren't intentionally being petty, but intentions never did soothe Jill's moods.

"Nice," she drawls, dropping her bag with a thud. "Real nice."

Your head falls back just enough to get a look at her, pouting in the doorway. Maybe it's supposed to be intimidating. Really, she just looks like a dejected cat, all puffed up for attention. The hand splayed on Leon’s chest flops back uselessly, reaching for her.

“Jill -”

Leon’s hips jut up, reminding you he's here, reminding you who's inside you. Whatever you were going to say melts away into a whine so pathetic even you want to roll your eyes.

"Got started without you," Leon says, callous on your behalf. His hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you back to him. It doesn’t take much prompting for you to curl back into his chest, walls fluttering around his cock, gripping him like your life depends on it. "Saved you some dinner. It’s in the fridge."

How can he be so casual? Feels like you’ve got lava running through your blood. His hands settle on your hips again, push-pulling you back and forth to get you to grind again. You oblige, faster than before, mouthing open kisses against his neck. They ought to canonize him for his patience, crown him Patron Saint of Not Plowing You Into The Carpet.

Jill doesn't say a word. She marches off to the bedroom, leaving her boots behind as she goes. Her cardigan gets flung over the couch - poor thing. It didn't do anything wrong.

She’ll come out when she’s ready, you tell yourself. Ignoring the ingrained need to manage Jill’s emotions for her is hard, but not quite as hard as Leon’s dick. Makes it a little easier to forget. You press your moans into Leon’s skin, let him have them for safekeeping.

Her footsteps pound back into the room. You don't know what she's done that's so funny, but Leon shakes with a laugh. You move to look, and his palm pressing against your cheek stops you. Something clatters onto the dining room table, a heavy thunk and buckles. He presses a light kiss to the crown of your head, strokes your hair.

"Go ahead and finish up, baby. Doin' so good. All yours."

It's all the permission you really need. It doesn’t take long - you’re good for him, after all. So good, you don't even need his help. You just need him to hold you up when that slow heat finally expands, spreads like fire through your limbs and leaves you making a mess of his lap, baptizing his cock with your release and moaning hymns for him.

You slump against him, eyes heavy and limbs loose. Your head nestles against his chest, his heart hammering like crazy. Poor guy. So patient. So sweet. You want to offer to take care of that for him - he's still inside you, sitting so still and so good, the stretch all you need. It feels like a bomb went off in your skull, though, scattered all your thoughts around the apartment. You need a moment before you can be considerate, before you can formulate any kind of offer. You reach up, pat his cheek gently to tell him how good he made you feel, lazily kiss at the hollow of his throat.

Jill's got plenty of words, though. She's not the one who just fell apart.

"You so needy you can't wait forty-five minutes?"

"Closer to an hour," Leon counters, and for the first time you hear the strain in his voice. "More like two, actually."

Jill’s irritation boils over. "Shut up. Why don't you go jerk off in the corner?"

After all, he's supposed to be on her side. He's the one who knows what this life is like, the one who knows what their work entails and the stress of it all.

He's also the one who texts when he's running late. He's the one still on active deployment, the one who hadn't been dodging home like the plague. He got over himself a year ago, figured ways to deal with his emotions that didn’t include running as fast as he could, drinking until they drowned, or working himself to the bone.

Jill’s still working on that part. Again - saint-like patience.

“Maybe I will,” he says, casual as he can. He jostles you in his arms. He’d say it’s to keep you awake, but it’s mostly to keep his dick hard. You pulse around him, groan into his t-shirt and drool a little dark patch onto his shirt.

You’re all soft and pliable when her hands slide up your sides, fingers curling in the spaces between your ribs. You lean back to her, longing for the softness of her tits under your head, and you glide back through the air unsupported, like you’ve faded through the ghost of her. Your head lolls back, pretty, pathetic pout on your swollen lips.

“Gonna be good?” She asks, staring down her nose at you, eyes half lidded. You nod your head. Her eyes narrow. “Words.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Shifting you off of Leon's lap is a group effort, one that Leon doesn't particularly care to be too enthusiastic about. His poor dick is lonely, and fucking his fist is a poor substitute for the sticky warmth of your cunt. Jill cradles you in here arms - the first hint of tenderness you've had from her all night - and settles you on the floor in front of the couch. She kicks your legs into position, sways back to appraise your form, and gives you a long-suffering sigh that's a far cry from approval.

"Whatever," she mutters under her breath. "It'll do. Don't move."

She shuffles off to the side. You hear the rustle of fabric. You turn your head to look, and -

"I said don't fuckin' move."

Your head snaps to the front again, hands fisted against the tops of your thighs. No arguing with that tone. Your back is ramrod straight. There's movement to your right, and Leon finally comes into view, settling against the far side of the couch. He's at least kind enough to give you a show, stroking his cock for you in long, slow strokes, massaging his palm over that shiny red tip and sliding his own fluid down to squeeze at the base. Makes your mouth water just looking at him.

Not that you have to wait long for a treat. Jill finishes her prep work, drags herself back over to the couch and drops down in front of you, strap-on making you go crosseyed.

“Go on,” she sighs, waving her hand lazily. Like she’s doing you a favor.

And she is. It’s a privilege to suck her strap.

You rock onto your knees and take too much of her at once, gag yourself right off the bat in your eagerness. They both groan, Jill in exasperation, Leon because holy fuck, if he hears you make that noise again he's going to blow his load immediately. His hand shucks his t-shirt up. He's not trying to stain this shirt with cum. Not his cum, anyway.

"Your mouth is so perfect for this," Jill says, leaning forward and fisting a hand in your hair, "and you're still so bad at it. Do I have to show you how to do everything?"

You nod uselessly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Jill rolls her eyes, smothers the hint of a smile that threatens to twist her lips up. She guides your head back to the head of her silicone cock and sets an easy pace for you. Lets you take it nice and slow, get accustomed to the weight of her cock on your tongue as if you haven't done this a hundred times - as if she knows you went too hard right off the bat just to get her to guide you like this.

"There you go," she drones, the praise feeling like anything but. You bob your head freely, her hand in your hair just a suggestion now. "Finally figured it out. Not as dumb you look."

You push further, tucking your thumb tight in your fist and gagging only a little when the head of her cock prods at the back of your throat. Leon's hips buck into his fist, quick and rhythmless, swearing under his breath. His leg kicks out, nudges Jill's calf and you swear she's going to snap at him.

Your eyes cut from Jill to Leon, a tear rolling down your cheek, and that’s the final push that has him cumming all over his stomach, head tipped back into the arm of the couch, pretty moans so loud, so perfect that it makes you feel your heartbeat in your pussy.

You don’t have time to savor the way that he looks, paint him in your mind and hang it up on the walls around your skull like a pin-up. Jill lifts you off her cock, stuffing her hands under your armpits like you’re a stray kitten. You would be, for her, if she asked. Let her slip a pretty collar around your neck, hope you’re lucky enough that it’s got a bell.

She doesn’t wait for Leon to recover, just manhandles the pair of you so your back is pressed to his chest, his cum smearing against your skin. Leon’s got that loose limbed laziness that comes with a release that built-up.

“Hold her,” Jill growls. “Stop fucking around.”

Leon's hands curled around the back of your thighs, spreading you wide for Jill. A warm chuckle rumbles through his chest and pours into you. His head ducks down, mouth by your ear.

“She's mad ‘cause I had you first.”

You turn your head, stifle your giggles in his shoulder. The silicone head of Jill's cock slides through your sopping folds, nudging at your clit. Her hips rock agonizingly slow. It’s tough to tell whether she’s teasing you or herself at this point, but your sensitive body twitches and jerks with every pass of her spit-slick cock.

“Gonna make a mess?” Her hand grips your jaw tight, pulling your face from Leon's shoulder. It’s less a question and more a demand. You nod as best you can in her grip, remember too late to try and bumble out words. She taps your cheek twice, hard enough to sting, hard enough to make those pretty eyes water again.

Jill doesn’t wait for you to say it. She enters you in a quick, jerky thrust, no hint of warning, your breath stuttering and back tensing. She rabbits her dick into you, your moans falling as staccato as her pace. Her head bows to spit a fat glob of spit onto your clit. Her fingers rub you frantically, a pace so at odds with the slow push and grind of her hips that it makes you burn. You try to squirm back, the way your blood starts to singe a little too quick for your liking, but there's nowhere to go when you're pressed so tight against Leon's broad chest.

His hand slithers up and over the point of your hip, pressing down firmly just below your navel. Betrayal. You thought he was on your side. Your whining sharpens into a moan that has to have rattled the windows. Jill huffs a laugh, low and cruel. She pulls back just far enough to leave you wanting - and when you claw at her shoulders to drag her back home she's already moving, hard and slow, the light dancing in front of your eyes, her hips driving the breath out of your lungs, your chest caving in. It feels like you've imploded, blood on fire, singeing your bones and leaving the ash to remember it by.

She’s not done. You promised her a mess. Your voice is splintered, her hips still driving into you. You don’t feel yourself gushing around her until it’s already happening. You sniffle, your moans choppy and your tears falling quick, humiliation warming the embers in your stomach. Her pace slows and finally stills, finally lets you find yourself in the pile of ashes.

"Already?" Jill mocks, hands rubbing your quivering thighs soft and sweet despite the way she sneers.

You want to scoff, but you haven’t got the breath. Already, she says, like she hadn’t just ripped that orgasm out of you fast enough that you’ve got cartoon tweety-birds spinning around your head.

“My turn,” Leon pipes up.

“Fuck off. You’re not even hard. I'm just getting started.”

“Shoulda thought about that before you made her cum.”

God, they’re like lions fighting over a piece of meat. You push yourself up on shaky arms, give Jill your best gazelle-trying-not-to-get-eaten pout.

“M’tired,” you slur, your brains thoroughly fucked out. You form a T with your hands, calling for a time-out. “Need a break.”

Jill looks like she wants to bite anyway. But you were good, used your good girl hand signal and everything. She sighs, her shoulders slumping, and loosens the straps around her hips.

“C’mere, pumpkin.” Leon gathers you into his arms easily. “Gonna get you all cleaned up. Tuck your ass in.”

You ache when he moves you, in places you weren’t quite sure could ache. It’ll be worse later. Always is. They always have to fuck you at some weird angle. Can’t ever let your muscles get used to it, like you’re some kind of glorified exercise equipment. At least they wipe you down after they use you. Very polite of them.

Leon hands you your water bottle and settles in behind you, slotting up against your back. He’s got the both of you cleaned off even though he seems just as tired as you, bless him. Say a prayer to the patron saint of the bedroom.

Jill found dinner, apparently. You hear the microwave beeping distantly and share an amused look with Leon. Sure enough, she’s got a bowl of food in her hand when she settles at the end of the bed, legs crossed.

The silence lays somewhere in-between battlefields, landmines hidden all around your bedroom. Everything you want to ask is too loaded, too heavy. You’re not even sure you have the energy to stay up for a serious conversation, much less an argument. Jill looks so soft right now, the bags under her eyes seeming lighter in the warm lamplight of your bedroom. You don’t want to see her eyes sharpen. You don’t want to hear her teeth click together when she bites back her words. You search for some other topic, something that will make the tension evident in her shoulders melt away.

"We should do one of those clone-a-willy kits," you murmur, eyes shut, head tipped into the pillow. You open your eyes just enough to gauge her reaction. Warmth blooms in your chest when you see her eyes crinkle and her smile lines deepen.

"Why?" Jill laughs.

"You don't wanna fuck me with Leon’s dick?"

It’s the first time you’ve heard Jill laugh like that in a while. Pride spreads in your tired little grin. Leon's cock gives a tired twitch against your thigh. He groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder blade.

“You two are gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

#leon kennedy x reader #jill valentine x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil imagine #leon kennedy smut #jill valentine smut #resident evil x reader #x reader #resident evil #jill valentine #leon kennedy

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aureatchi · 11 months ago

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⛇₊˚ .࿐₊˚✧ BUBBLES IN MY CHAMPAGNE, LET IT BE SOME JAZZ PLAYIN’ . . .OSAMU DAZAI

⟢ SYNOPSIS. the port-mafia was infamous for throwing glamorous holiday parties every year. not only were you attending this time, but you were also finally going to be introduced as the port-mafia boss’ pretty girlfriend! or…that was the plan.

of course, things never go according to plan.

a/n. merry christmas !! adding onto the xmas dazai fics jdjsjwn <3 this one’s vv chaotic.

info. fem!reader. pm boss!dazai. pm exec!reader. fluff, angst, pinch of sugg. there’s DRAMA. mentions of drinking. lil jealousy. dazai is a 💩. the pm is filthy rich lmao. pazenia is a made up country. wc. 3.4k

“Oh my.”

“How do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful.”

The brunette chuckled as he waltzed towards you. You saw him appear behind you through the sizeable full-body mirror, wrapping his arms around your waist as you finished applying your lipstick.

“It looks even better on you.” Dazai’s fingers wandered playfully, tracing the curves the red dress he gifted you hugged so well. The tailoring was so impressive—the dress could fit noone else but you. And indeed, it was made exclusively for you, for the largest and most luxe corporate event of the year.

It was the Port Mafia Christmas party. Everyone was required to attend, and plus-ones were allowed too, stirring even more chaos into the affair. You were a Port Mafia executive—of course you were going, but the night was going to be unique for another reason.

Tonight, the Port Mafia boss would confirm all the rumors…all the gossip circulating the past few months. He was finally making your relationship with him official in front of everyone.

As if everyone still doesn’t know.

Yet you were nervous. Keeping things an enigma actually worked in your favor—besides suspicious stares with muffled voices and jealous women, you didn’t have to worry about much. Dazai would take care of any problem. After all, you trusted him completely.

But now, everyone would know. You and Dazai had gone through all the downsides—you could become a potential target for any enemies, your name would rise even higher on the wanted list, and you could be stalked by frustrated, jealous men…honestly, you two were almost too hot for your own wellbeing.

Just almost, because “I’ll take care of it all. I’ll make sure nothing ever hurts you, darling.”

He whispered those words into your ear, sensing your anxiousness as you continued to look at your reflections.

“Please don’t worry.”

He did not speak in his usual teasing, playfully amorous voice. The brunette’s face matched the seriousness of the topic you had both gone over multiple times, making sure that the other wanted to still go through with it. You both didn’t want to force the decision of your relationship upon the other—though it was Dazai who had suggested the idea, the choice rested entirely on you. He ensured you knew you could change your mind anytime you wanted.

And Dazai wished you could see that he truly, would go to the ends of universes to make sure you were safe.

You gave him a reassuring smile. “I won’t,” you replied. “I’m only worried about you. I need to be by your side at all times to fight any bad guys that come for you.”

And girls. If you were being honest, you always felt a bit sick thinking about other women wanting him. Maybe this is why your nerves hadn’t backed you out yet…you wanted everyone to know their leader was indeed taken.

Dazai laughed more heartily than he intended to at the comment. He, the now Port Mafia superior commander, known even before as the Demon Prodigy, was being talked to in concern that he needed a sidekick to help him.

Though, he was also the same man whose mind was full of fervor for one girl. You giggled, seeing the apparent blush on Dazai’s face when you fixed his black tie. He was matching with you, of course—his red attire was the ruby scarf.

“Perfect,” you mused when you were done. “Wow, you’re handsome.“

“And you’re ethereal,” Dazai responded, putting on your coat. “Ready to go shock everyone?”

“As if half of the mafia doesn’t already suspect anything between us, Osamu,” you smiled.

“Hmm…you’re right.

“Of course they’d think I’d sought after the prettiest woman in the world.” A coy grin snuck back onto his lips.

…

It was evident your lover had good taste, not only in outfits. He chose to rent out one of the big hotels as the venue for the party—very fitting for the filthy-rich organization.

The first thing you noticed when you stepped out of the limo was the massive Christmas tree in the center of the hall.

“Woah.” There were at least fifty gifts under it already.

You noticed Dazai’s brows suddenly furrow as he, too, inspected the presents.

“Osamu?”

“Bella, remind me who this person is again.”

He picked up a present, showing you a familiar name.

“Oh!” He was the assistant under your wing. You two had worked together for years—you had built up a lot of trust and a friendship to have him in charge of some of your responsibilities.

“I see. Don’t mind that; I forget some of my men sometimes.”

You nodded, though you felt a bit unsure about his response. Regardless, you cast the thought aside.

What you didn’t notice was the way Dazai showed you the package. The present was from your assistant, but the name it was for was entirely covered by the brunette’s hand.

“Well, are you ready to go in?” Dazai asked, holding out a hand towards you.

“Yeah, I’m-”

“Dazai!”

It was Kouyou, another executive. She saw you and greeted you, too.

“My, you’re looking lovely today,” she chirped. “So you and the boss are dating.”

You smiled. “Yes.”

“Well, better tell everyone soon,” she told the both of you. “Dazai, a daughter of a very infamous organization in Europe, is at this party as a plus-one. She wants to discuss a business proposal…‘as soon as possible,’ she said. It’s confidential, too; she only wants you. Do you have a few moments to spare?”

Dazai immediately turned toward you, to which you nodded at him. “It seems important, especially if she’s from Europe.”

“You’re sure?” Dazai asked. You were supposed to walk into the dining hall together to introduce yourselves as the power couple of the evening. “What about…”

“Yeah, the mafia is the priority. I’ll find you soon.” You were an executive, after all. The mafia existed to protect Yokohama City, so work should be an urgency.

“Alright,” he replied. He took another look at you—a singular, amber eye softened once he met your gaze. The other was hidden behind bandages, and so were the emotions of his heart. You couldn’t tell what he was feeling at the moment.

“Let’s go, big sis.” He turned towards Kouyou, who led him out of the room.

Now alone, not counting the guards, you glanced at the presents again, picking up the one Dazai had previously questioned you about.

Oh! Your assistant gave you a present. You found it sweet; your assistant hadn’t gifted you anything until this year. Now Dazai’s reaction made sense—perhaps he had thought you had a secret admirer or something. You giggled at his assumed jealousy.

…

You walked inside the dining hall by yourself, a large crowd already entertaining themselves inside. Everyone who saw you stopped to greet you—their executive, and you wished them a merry Christmas back with a friendly smile.

“Huh? So she’s not dating him?”

You turned your head the slightest, pretending to grab a drink while you instead eavesdropped on two employees you hardly knew. Thank goodness they weren’t the ones going out on missions to spy—they were terrible at not being obvious.

“I’m not sure. But that underground aristocrat from Europe that everyone knows has a crush on the boss showed up to meet him. That huge Christmas tree by the staircases is actually a gift from her.”

“Really?! So…maybe she was the boss’ plus-one? Now that’s wild. Everyone really had me believing he was seeing the executive.”

“Yo!” Your attention was suddenly pulled from their conversation.

“You good? You’re overflowing your cup.” You had poured too much drink, so liquid was running all over the floor.

“Shoot, I think she heard us!” you faintly heard behind you as the employees moved away.

“Oh, yeah. I’m so sorry,” you responded to your assistant who had found you. He handed you a few napkins to clean your hands and dropped a few more to mop the floor with his shoe.

“You didn’t need to help, and thank you,” you said as you cleaned up, too, feeling bad.

“All good! Merry Christmas, by the way. How’s your evening going so far?”

“Good, thank you,” you responded, half-truthful. You needed to find somewhere to process what you had just heard. Even if they were only rumors…they bothered you.

“I saw you got me a gift in the lobby,” you added, recalling earlier. “I was surprised! You haven’t done that before, so I found it so sweet.”

“Oh yeah!” he replied, and you didn’t miss the pink that tinted his cheeks. “Who knows…I may have had a change of heart this year.”

You chuckled innocently. “Well, whatever the reason, thank you! I’m excited to see what you got.”

“Of course. I do hope you like it! Also, your dress. It looks good on you.” His voice sped up at his last comment.

“Oh, uh, thanks-”

That was really awkward. You gave him mercy, though…you hadn’t even told him you were in a relationship. So, you tried to say to him that it was your boyfriend, Dazai, who had the dress made for you, but you were cut off.

Dazai had finally entered the room, but he was accompanied by that noblewoman everyone was speaking about.

Wow, she was gorgeous. Her hair was in a perfect blowout, and she wore an emerald green dress that fit her like a glove.

And with each step Dazai and this new woman took into the hall to be regarded by everyone, your heart sank a bit more into your stomach.

What??

“You don’t look so well. Are you okay?” Your assistant paid no mind to the mafia boss’ new commotion. He was wholly concerned for you.

“Yeah. This drink tastes weird, but I can’t put my finger on what.” Yet, you took another sip. What was going on? You had never doubted Dazai’s love or loyalty toward you. Had you been so blind by your own to miss this?

Dazai didn’t even bother trying to search for you. And the way the lady’s arm touchingly clung around his infuriated you.

“He was seeing some foreign princess all along?”

“The boss always has to cause a scene with something new.”

“They’re kind of hot together, though.”

Now you really wanted to puke. You stared until the noblewoman’s eyes finally caught yours and dwelt on your figure briefly before turning toward Dazai and asking him something.

Dazai’s lips read, “Okay!” before a guard approached you.

“The boss is summoning all the executives to him,” he whispered in your ear, and you nodded, strolling over to him.

Fuck. You wanted to cry. Your heart was beating out of your chest.

You felt a bit better when the other executives—Kouyou and Chuuya showed up before you.

“Miss, these are the Port Mafia’s three executives.” He introduced you individually, not meeting your eye when he went to you.

You wanted to leave. There was no point in being here anymore. What you thought would be a cheery Christmas Eve turned out to be the worst night ever. It couldn’t have gotten any worse…

“And this is the Lady of Pazenia,” Dazai said, introducing the woman. “Our most important foreign guest tonight.”

“So, uh? I’m kinda confused,” Chuuya commented. “Mackerel boss, ya dating her or something?” He glanced at Dazai, the girl on him, and then you.

She responded for him. “We’re getting acquainted tonight, that’s all,” she replied smugly. Dazai chuckled. “Yes…we’ve communicated online a few times, but this is the first time we’re meeting face to face.”

What the fuck.

“Oh, uh, okay.” For once, Chuuya didn’t pester, didn’t tease anymore. Because he was just as startled as you. He, too, suspected that you were dating the boss.

“I’m sorry, will you please excuse me? It was nice meeting you, m’lady; I hope you enjoy your Christmas with the boss.” You didn’t even wait for a reply. You stormed off in the direction of your assistant. You were going to ask him to drive you home, and then you’d pack your things and then stay at a friend’s house for a few days to figure out what to do next.

Everything was crashing down like an avalanche.

But before you could get to him, the bastard’s subordinate stopped you.

“Akutagawa? Hi, Merry Christmas. Sorry, I’m in a rush-”

“Merry Christmas, miss,” he responded, moving in front of you again when you tried to shift over. “Aren’t you going to rescue the boss? Has your emotion clouded your rationality so much you can’t see things clearly anymore?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

You turned back towards the scene, and yeah—what you saw was your final straw. Akutagawa misjudged. Not even a glimmer of hope remained in you.

Somehow, they had ended up at the corner of the room. And lo and behold, Dazai and the Lady of Pazenia had ended up under the mistletoe, and many of the upper ranks surrounded them. There was even a Paparazzi.

You tried to push past Akutagawa, but he stopped you.

“Watch.”

Why? Did Dazai place him there to make sure you suffered through it all? This was so cruel. Tears welled up in your eyes as the room went quiet to watch.

“Oh! Silly me…how did I manage to get here?”

“I’m not sure…” the woman replied flirtatiously. “But you can’t break a tradition, boss of the Port Mafia.”

“I guess I can’t,” Dazai replied, leaning in. “But, can we make a deal, Miss?

“You can kiss me, but tell me where the real Lady of Pazenia is. The exact coordinates where you’re keeping her hostage. If there’s anyone kept in place to secure or torture her.”

And the crowd suddenly gasped. She did, too, and a hand flew to her mouth.

“Shit!”

About ten guards ran towards her, restraining her before she could do anything. Dazai calmly backed away, continuing to explain.

“The business proposal was crafty and would’ve led to our doom quite quickly. You’re trying to overthrow your own government. So, you devised a cover-up to get the mafia to help you, with a deal to help us on our end, but just like your original goal, you want our city’s government to fall into anarchy, too.

“An underground noblewoman. You are exactly that—quite literally.” Dazai sighed. “No, I’m not in a relationship with her, I…”

Dazai finally met your eye, and his heart immediately sunk seeing you cry.

“Oh my gosh,” he whispered, and he ran towards you, tightly embracing you.

You wanted to punch him, throw him away—something, but you were surrounded by half the corporate. There was already enough scandal tonight, you didn’t need to add any more.

“Hah, it’s okay,” you responded audibly, hastily wiping tears. “You’re a great actor, Osamu, really got me believing you were cheating on me for a second.” Words spurred out of your mouth—you hoped you wouldn’t regret it later.

Dazai’s grip on you tightened to silently show you gratitude before he turned to your audience. “Now that the problem is out of the way—Merry Christmas to you all.” A waiter handed him a glass of champagne, who had also gone around with multiple others to hand out drinks to everyone.

“And a special Merry Christmas to my girlfriend, right here.” He gave you a kind smile, and you tried your best to reciprocate your own. There were “awe”’s and “that’s so cute”’s about.

Dazai held his glass up towards everyone else’s before toasting with yours.

…

You stayed away from Dazai for the next hour. He respected your space for that long—in the meantime, you acted fine. You conversed with others, you laughed. Your assistant apologized for his comment on you earlier—“I was completely oblivious to you and the boss! I’m so sorry; I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” You laughed it off, telling him it was okay.

“Hey, bella.”

Dazai had finally found you alone. You looked at him, facing the inevitable.

“I’m getting tired. Wanna sneak away with me?”

You hesitated. “Where would we go?”

“The drinks suck here, besides that champagne. I know Chuuya was definitely not in charge of this part.”

You had to agree with that one. You couldn’t even finish the glass you overfilled earlier.

…

Bar Lupin was surprisingly empty that night. The bar was Dazai’s safe place, his getaway. You were constantly reminded of his genuine, complete trust in you whenever he took you here.

“I’m sorry,” Dazai apologized as you waited for your drinks. “What I did was brutal.”

“It really fucking hurt,” you said, finally able to release your true feelings now that nobody else was around.

“I had to keep up the act to expose her. Her vulnerability was that…she had a crush on me? So, the most rapid way to gain her trust was to make her believe she had a chance. She didn’t know I was seeing someone.”

“You take acting too seriously. You’re the Port Mafia boss, not some goddamn movie actor. You couldn’t even…make eye contact with me? Give me a reassuring look or something?”

“You’re right. That’s no excuse.” He took a breath. He had actually messed something up. He could predict and do everything else flawlessly until it came to the people he loved.

He always screwed it up.

“I set aside our relationship for a mission. I’m really sorry, love. And I understand if it takes awhile for you to think through it all. The only thing I ask is for forgiveness.”

“I dunno…it kind of seems like you enjoyed it…”

That was a lie. You were just saying things out of spite now. You had rethought the previous events after recalling what Akutagawa had harshly told you without context—rescue the boss? Yeah, Dazai clearly didn’t enjoy it. He never touched the woman back in any way, and his word choice was very cautious. Except one line.

“Us communicating online? Yeah, I knew she’d just go along with it. I had to say that so Chuuya would stop pushing and blow my cover. Besides, you literally have my email login, darling. You see everything.”

“I really hate you sometimes, Osamu, you know?” you muttered as the bartender finally handed you two your drinks. You took a thirsty sip out of yours. You couldn’t even stay mad anymore.

“Is that your way of saying you forgive me?” he chuckled, knowing the mood was lightening.

“No. You’re just too…attractive. Like, why are you so hot? All the girls want you…I was actually quite relieved when you asked me if we should make things official so everyone could finally know that we belong to each other…”

Hah, if only you knew.

“You don’t assume I think the same? You almost pissed me off by hanging around your little assistant, too, belladonna. He clearly fancies you.”

You gulped, remembering his earlier compliment. “Don’t do anything to him—he didn’t know. He does now.”

“He better,” he simply replied. “And everyone else. There’s no excuse now—you’re the Port Mafia boss’ girlfriend.”

You felt like there were butterflies in your stomach. The protectiveness was attractive. You pulled on Dazai’s tie, reeling the rest of him towards you.

“And you’re my boyfriend,” you smiled.

To everyone else, Dazai was known as evil, suicidal, murderer, demon, saint. But to you, he was simply Osamu. Your boyfriend. And perhaps that’s what he loved most of all. Across universes, you would not fail him—not even Odasaku succeeded so highly.

“Are you going to kiss me, bella?” Dazai asked, the signature smile back on his face.

“No,” you teased, pushing him back. “I’m still mad at you. Nothing went according to plan.”

“Nothing did,” the brunette replied. “But isn’t that what’s so exciting about life? Life is unexpected, yet some good things can come out of it, such as…”

He revealed a piece of mistletoe in his hand, holding it above you two.

“Even if you’re mad, you can’t break a tradition,” Dazai spoke, swinging the plant back and forth.

You sighed before you both leaned in to kiss each other. Dazai pulled you onto his lap, and you kissed him even more feverishly. Your hands ran through his hair until the bandage around his head finally came undone, unveiling the rest of his pretty face.

You focused on his dilated, honey-colored eyes. Finally, they revealed what he was feeling. Comfort in having you in his arms again. In your warmth.

Everything felt too intense after that. He had started making out with you again, his hands were wandering you curiously, the dim lighting, the jazz instrumental, how tipsy you felt from the drinks…

“Let’s just go home.”

…

You were swaddled in Dazai’s arms under the bed's covers at home. So sleepy. Dazai promised that the next day would treat the both of you better—a peaceful Christmas gift.

“Let’s stop doing such large parties,” you said, looking up at the ceiling. “It just calls for trouble, to be honest.”

“Yeah…we’ll have a small houseparty next time. Everyone else can do what they want.”

You were gently kissed on the forehead before the brunette softly whispered to you. “Merry Christmas, belladonna. I love you.”

“I love you too, Osamu.”

dazai told me he’d kiss u if u rb this. rbs are cherished; they are ur christmas gift to me! <3

tags: @kissesmellow21 @osaemu @ruanais + @lovedazai @chuuyrr @anqelically (i think u guys would like this <3)

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vixstarria · 1 year ago

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Are you mine?

So I was initially going to do maybe 500 words worth of them being cute and cuddly, but then this happened. I have no control at this point, I am just the messenger.

Astarion x F!Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav, soft Astarion, Astarion POV

Mostly fluff and comfort with a bit of hurt (Astarion’s past recollections), basically just pillow talk, cuddling, banter, non-explicit, no spoilers

Very late Act 1 / early Act 2 (pre-confession). I’ve already written past this point earlier, but I think it’s such a fun time to return to for anything flirty, with Astarion being in love but being pissed off and / or in denial about it.

Approximately 2,000 words

AO3

Being able to get by with little sleep was both a blessing and a curse. In no time at all you were ready to take on whatever the day would throw at you. You were rested, alert, ready for battle. The downside? The amount of time you had to spend alone with your thoughts.

You weren’t fully alone, not exactly. You laid on your side with your nose buried in her neck, one of your arms underneath the pillow, the other wrapped around her, your leg following the bend of hers like you were chasing her warmth, bare skin on bare skin, your bodies filling each other’s nooks so perfectly.

You could have been up and doing something useful, you supposed, but you didn’t want to waste a precious second of being able to just hold her.

You winced and sighed, having caught yourself on that thought.

Pathetic idiot...

The truth was, you knew you were living on borrowed time.

Oh you toyed with the idea of amassing more tadpoles for more powers and seeing how long and how far you could take this, but in your heart of hearts you knew this was a lunatic idea. The absolute best-case scenario was that one way or another, the tadpole would be removed from your brain, removing all its benefits alongside it.

Then, you would spend the rest of your eternal life in the shadows, forever looking over your shoulder in fear of being dragged back to Cazador.

You would never see the sun again.

You would probably never see her again.

Suddenly feeling choked up, despite not really even needing to breathe, you pressed your lips against the small of her neck, pausing then landing a few more small, soft kisses along her shoulder.

She stirred and rolled over onto her stomach, looking at you with a knowing smile through her mess of hair.

Shit.

“Oh... I thought you were asleep,” you said.

“I know...” she replied, stretching lazily. “You only kiss me like that when you think I’m sleeping.”

So many implications in that statement. Your mind immediately churned out a dozen ways to respond, deflecting, denying, joking or otherwise brushing it off. But you wanted to see where leaning into it might take you.

“Do I..? Here, I’ll fix that.”

You leaned toward her, placing a soft kiss on her lips. Just your lips brushing against hers, petal-soft. She closed her eyes and hummed in pleasure as you trailed your lips further along her skin, leaving featherlight kisses from the corner of her mouth further up the side of her face.

You were careful to keep the kisses tender rather than sensual. Not something you were accustomed to, at all. She smiled and squirmed a little as your lips dipped below her jawline near her earlobe.

“That tickles...” she murmured, making you chuckle.

“My sweet girl,” you whispered, nuzzling her ear.

Ugh, where in the hells did that come from..? you thought, startled.

She noticed. Of course she noticed.

She shifted onto her side, propping herself up with an elbow and resting her head on her hand.

“Am I? Yours?” There it was again, that knowing, quizzical look.

“Are you not?” you asked.

“Hmm... How can I tell?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you flashed her a roguish grin, which she ignored.

“Should it be? Is there something you’ve done to claim me as yours?”

Her words might have stung, had her tone not been so playful rather than mocking. She was encouraging, not denying you.

I don’t suppose she’s going to count all the unspeakable things we’ve done to each other. I guess I wouldn’t either.

“Is that what you want me to do?” you asked, slowly tracing a finger down her arm.

“That depends... Do you want me to be yours?”

This conversation was idiotic. Why was it making you increasingly giddy?

“Come now, we have been doing this for how long? Are we really going to be coy about whether or not we like each other?” you asked, trying to sound assured rather than flustered.

She leaned forward, as if to reveal a secret for your ears only.

“That’s not quite what we’re being coy about, now is it?” she whispered, before placing a lingering kiss on your lips.

You were completely out of your depth in this kind of flirting, if one could call it that. Concentrating on the physical and sexual, dropping innuendos, hinting at promises you had no intention of keeping, teasing, arousing, adding in just the right amount of vulgarity to otherwise honeyed words to make them blush and stammer in trepidation... That you could do all day as an afterthought, all while mulling over something you had read earlier, or otherwise being a thousand leagues away with your thoughts.

But this... It was like she was playing with and delicately caressing your innermost, rawest feelings, all whilst inviting you to do the same with hers. Sex was barely even a consideration. This was an entirely different dance. And it was exhilarating.

Before you could think of what to say, she moved on.

“You know, Lae’zel propositioned me earlier,” she said, briefly burying her face in her hands and shaking her head with a quiet, incredulous laugh.

“She did what? ...And how did that go?”

“It was very... Lae’zel. I wasn’t sure whether she was offering to kill me or fuck me at first. I had to politely decline.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” you frowned.

“Should I have?” She studied you with a curious look, resting her chin on her hands. “How would it make you feel? If I accepted her offer?”

Like the whole world was pulled out from beneath my feet. Again.

“You and Lae’zel? Hmm. Sounds like something I’d pay to watch.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Her eyes seemed to be piercing straight into your soul. You had to quickly do a double-take on whether your tadpole might have been betraying anything to hers, before rebuking yourself. She wouldn’t pry like that.

Your eyes roamed around the tent as you tried to assemble some words that weren’t too far from or too close to the truth.

“Lae’zel is... exotic. Far be it for me to stand between anyone and such an... ‘outlandish’ experience. But I would prefer to have you all to myself, if it’s all the same to you. I don’t devote all that time to making sure that pretty head of yours stays on your shoulders just to have Lae’zel decapitate you in her throes of passion.”

“That’s still not what I asked, but I’ll let it slide,” she rolled her eyes. “Getting a straight answer from you is like trying to seduce a blushing maiden.”

“A riveting challenge?”

“A tiresome one. That’s most likely not worth the effort.”

How many blushing maidens have you seduced?

“Alright, fine, I admit I might be a bit jealous. ...On top of being concerned for your wellbeing, darling.”

“Just a bit jealous?” she teased.

“Matters of honour would demand that I challenge her to a duel,” you sighed.

“You have no honour. And she would crush you.”

“I know. But I would die a hero’s death. Songs about me would live through the ages. ...You might need to write them for me.”

“Sure, right after I wrote songs about how I conquered a githyanki,” she snorted. “Or perhaps songs about being conquered by one myself? I could spin it either way. Which do you think would stir more loins?”

“I don’t know and my own loins are taking no part of this. Now are you going to keep talking nonsense, or will you go back to sleep already?”

“Why, so you can sneak more tender little kisses on me?” she laughed.

You didn't really want her to fall back asleep. Talking with her kept your darker thoughts at bay. What you did want, was to feel her wrapped around you again.

“You know what? If you’re not going to sleep, you may as well carry on with your business, and I’ll meditate sitting up for a change.”

You snatched the blanket from her, making her exclaim a sharp “Hey!” as the cold mountain air touched her bare skin, and wrapped it around yourself, settling in a cross-legged position. Moments later, she was on your lap, facing you with her legs wrapped around your hips. Just as you anticipated. You smirked and accepted her in your blanket cocoon, wrapping an arm around her waist and holding her close as you kissed her.

“So, my blushing maiden,” she said as she leaned away from you, slightly, stretching her arms around your neck and resting her forearms on your shoulders. “It seems I have you backed up against a wall. I won’t force you – do what you will with your virtue. But you must decide. Will you give in willingly? Or deny me, and spend the rest of your life wondering: what if?” She leaned in to whisper the last two words dramatically. “I will ask you again: do you want me to be yours?”

You wondered if she had any idea how apt that comparison really was to how you felt.

Or how eerily similar it was to some of the tactics you yourself employed when luring in your victims. Hells, even the words were almost identical to some of the ones you’ve used. To make them surrender with reckless abandon, throwing all caution to the wind, blinded by your promises. Cattle rushing happily to the slaughter.

You knew all this. You’d seen it countless times. But just then, you also saw there was no malice in her eyes. Only something like hope that she was trying to mask with mischief.

Wherever she was leading you, you wanted to follow.

“Fine,” you said softly, looking into her eyes. “I do want you to be mine. And no, I don’t want to share you with anyone.” You felt oddly elated as the words left your mouth. “I’d feel compelled to dismember any hand that touched you, so to give me a fair chance at survival, could you stay away from Lae’zel? Please?”

She grinned and grasped your face in her hands, pressing her lips against yours.

“Good girl,” she purred, still grinning, earning herself a sharp pinch on her bottom, making her jolt before she continued. “This leads me to my next question: do you want to be mine?”

There it was. The trap beyond the lure. You saw it clear as day. And still, you wanted to follow her.

“Darling, after the past 200 years, I’m really not disposed to letting anyone else claim ownership of me”. You watched her smile falter, and you hurriedly continued before it turned to sadness or disappointment, or worse, pity, and spread to her eyes. “But I just might make an exception for you… If the offer is mutual.” You took one of her hands in yours. “So, are you? Mine?” you asked, placing a kiss on her knuckles.

Who’s backed against a wall now?

"Of course I am. As if you even needed to ask.” She touched her forehead against yours before placing another kiss on your lips. Did she have to sound so triumphant saying that? “I am yours and no one else’s. Now you say it.”

Ah, still me.

Still, you fought hard not to laugh as a feeling of relief spread warmly throughout your body. You hadn’t even noticed how tense you were.

“Alright, alright...” You cleared your throat and held a dramatic pause before continuing. “You are mine and no one else’s.”

She let out an exasperated growl and grabbed and twisted one of your nipples. You chortled even as you yelped, grabbing the offending hand and holding it behind her back. She immediately made another attempt with her other hand, which you also successfully intercepted, now holding both her arms behind her. Refusing to give up, she went for your shoulder with her teeth, with a maniacal giggle, as you laughed and tried to fend her off with your chin.

“Yes, I’m yours, I’m yours, you feral wildcat! I’m yours... Only yours.” you declared hastily into her hair somewhere near her ear, as she calmed down. “I mean it. Now behave! I always ask before I bite, don’t I?” you said, releasing her arms.

She attempted to glare at you, her eyes narrowed, but couldn’t keep her face straight and broke into a grin again.

“Well... Look at us...” she drawled, placing her arms back onto your shoulders. “Snatched up onto the nautiloid with nothing but the clothes on our backs, and now we’ve each got a whole other person.”

She looked so pleased and happy... Why..? This couldn’t last. No matter how much you wanted it to. …Could it..?

You were falling, deeper and deeper.

My love... My sweet, sweet love... Where are you taking me?

~~~~~

Next in series - Gentle warding bond

Want more of these two? There’s more. Series master list.

AO3

#astarion #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #astarion fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfic #prying Astarion’s feelings from his cold dead hands #1st base raw sex #2nd base I anxiety vomit in front of you #3rd base we go outside during the day

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ceruleanchillin · 10 months ago

Text

141 x Reader: Biker!AU

Note(s) -

1.) Nobody asked for this, but here I am combining two obsessions. Congrats, you’re a biker’s old lady now 🎉.

Any media with hot guys in a group should have outlaw MC AUs

2.) I love roughneck Simon. Please give me more of him. I wanna talk about the guys in this AU so badly, don’t (DO) feed my inbox. BlueCollar!Simon, Mafia!Simon, Mechanic!Simon, Idc I love it all.

3.) If you saw this before, no you didn’t (plus I added more to it). I decided to keep them all together, and it’ll just be long as hell. A long fic stored under a cut never hurt nobody.🤷🏾‍♀️

Simon

Nobody can get him as soft as you. There’s a 3-ringed barrier around his heart. Outsiders < The Club < You.

He loves doing mundane things with you, the kind of things he never saw for himself when he swore to stay single in this life. Like, after a good run fattens his wallet, letting you run wild in the shops.

“C’mon on then lovie, give us a spin.”

You squealed, spinning so the soft fabric fanned around your upper thighs. “I love it! But Si, it’s too much.”

“You let me worry about that sweetheart. Just let me see how it looks comin’ offa ya.” He gripped the very thighs you teased him with, eager for his favorite part besides your smile.

He’d pick up as many extra runs as it took to keep you in small luxuries, as long as he was the one that got to keep that look on your face.

They all have tattoos, but Simon is the king. His body art is top notch, because he’s very discerning with his artists. He’s had the best from Europe to the States. Now, he only trusts Price’s old lady, Johnny, and you.

In fact, that’s how you met. You started your apprenticeship under an asshole who bailed before it was over, and took a chance on the dangerous shop everyone warned you away from. Mrs. Price was everything you were afraid of AT FIRST. You later understood it was because the shop is 141 affiliated, and she had to be harshly discerning to protect herself and her family.

Once you got over that phase, she was unendingly sweet, and dedicated to helping you hone your craft.

Simon saw you when he came to fix the sink in the shop’s little kitchen. You were the only one there, intensely focused on a practice skin arm.

You were beautiful, hair wild from you tugging at in concentration, and your tongue poking out slightly. How long had you been working here?

“I knew you needed a hand around here, but that’s a bit far isn’t it?”

You jumped, startled out of your practice, the buzz of the tattoo gun stopping. “Oh my god! I don’t know what scared me more, you, or that joke.”

The two of you kept each other company in your respective tasks, until he was done. In admitting you were aching to do a real tattoo again, he found himself volunteering on instinct.

At first you resisted, worried about the ethics in your mentor’s shop, and he came up with the genius idea of going back to your place. Smooth Simon.

By the end of the night he was sure he’d never need another artist again.

He’s often as busy as Price, sometimes more so. It takes a lot to run a charter as is, but to establish a table so far from home calls on him more than any other era in his time with the club. On top of that, he often pulls double duty, acting as an enforcer with Konig.

That’s where he really appreciates you understanding, and accepting, his lifestyle. You’ve made a home for him, and he only hopes he conveys how much he appreciates that.

—

He comes home with a headache taking up residence in every corner of his head more and more these days. It was all he could do to kick his boots off, and not collapse on the nearest thing that could hold his weight. His room felt miles away. Downside of living in the dorms.

He drug himself to the clubhouse kitchen, prepared to dig around for some painkillers, when he saw a post-it note on the island next to a napkin with two pills.

Ignore if not Si!

Dinner in the fridge + cake in the dish on the counter. Eat and get your ass in bed with me.

He chuckled, headache long forgotten when he realized you were in his bed. However, his heart and stomach wouldn’t let him ignore the home cooked meal in the fridge, and once he’d savored every bite, he was a blur on his way to his room.

You were curled up in one of his shirts, sleeping soundly on the side of the bed he favored. He stripped, leaving his clothes on the floor, only stopping to deposit his kutte on the dresser, before scooping you into his arms.

“Si..” you murmured sleepily, burying your face in his chest, seeking something to lay on after being picked up.

“‘s alright sweet pea.”

“Glad you’re home, don’t let go.” You were slightly more awake now, but not by much.

“Was never an option.” He got into bed, relaxing in the warm spot you left behind, and situated you next to him in his arms.

Assuming big spoon position, his hands roamed your form, finding momentary purchase wherever they could. He felt a little guilty for further waking you up, but it occurred to him that you must have seen the day he’d had, and had taken the time to attempt to make it a little better. You could be home in your own bed, but you chose to be there for him. He was starving for you.

His lips created the same desperate patterns across your cheek and neck that his hands created on your body. He gripped your thigh, giving the plush skin a squeeze, before hooking your leg back over his.

There was a sharp inhale of air from you, and you pushed back against him, undoubtedly feeling him firming.

He laid his other arm under your head, letting you lay your cheek against his arm as he grasped your face. He tilted it up to grant more access to your skin for his lips.

“Taking care of me pretty bird?”

“It’s what you deserve, baby.” You slurred, squirming in sensory overload at all of his attention.

“Swear m’ going flat hunting tomorrow.” His fingers skimmed over your covered heat, grinning when your lower half bucked.

“‘s what you deserve sweetheart. Somewhere to put all your nesting to good use.”

You moaned rolling your hips back into your solid wall of a man. “Don’t tease me, I can’t help it.”

“Oh, m’not teasing pretty bird, m’ appreciating.”

He’s been called on to do many dark things for the club. Price doesn’t leave room at the table for anyone not to pull their weight, and he’s even tougher on his titled men. However, the darker jobs fall on Simon more often than anyone else, because he’s thorough, and can put the deed away somewhere, somehow, every time.

When he pulls on his mask, and just surrenders to being no one but Ghost, he’s ready to work. He never cared what anyone thought about his actions, he never had to, until you.

You’d been around rough crowds in your lifetime, but Simon was a career criminal, and so was his found family. He was sure some recollection of his deeds would reach you, and that’d be your line. In fact, he was waiting on it.

He was shocked, truly floored, to find that wasn’t what triggered you. It was how you felt he was being utilized. You didn’t like, what you felt, was the unequal distribution of the extreme jobs, and you told him as much.

When he got over his shock, his reaction was fiercely defensive of the club. It was your turn for shock, but he couldn’t help it. He felt judged about the family that owned his loyalty, by the woman that owned his heart.

You were taken aback by his ferocity, but it didn’t change your view. It created a hotbed of tension that threatened what the two of you had built, until he understood why you felt so strongly. Simon was the one taken aback when he realized your intensity came from your love for him, not a judgement of the 141. He still couldn’t wrap his head around someone loving him to that degree. In his heart of hearts, he didn’t think he was worthy of that. That’s how he was supposed to, and did, love you.

He admitted as much when the tired topic reached a fever pitch.

Simon’s close cropped blonde hair was riddled with evidence he’d been running long, frustrated fingers through it. Those same fingers pulled a cigarette from his pack,, and lit it with a calmness that didn’t reflect the current mood.

“So now you tell me what I can and can’t do? That it then?”

You snapped at the accusation, breaking the promise you’d made to yourself not to raise your voice. “I’m not telling you what you can and can’t do, stop reframing what I fucking say!”

“Grow the fuck up, you’re not a bloody baby. You knew what I did when we got together. I protect the group, I’m meant to be the first line of defense. I pull my weight, my life be damned!”

Your eyes widened in shock at the underlying implication of his words. His own expression wasn’t familiar enough to you for you to place.

“The table doesn’t make me do the ugly bits, most times I volunteer.” He flicked ash onto the pavement, his finger tapping with more force than necessary. “Whether I die, or get pinched, I can be replaced. ‘s my job to stand in front of the ones that can’t.”

His chest heaved with trapped frustration, voice guttural, raw with emotion. “That’s my use.”

You couldn’t place a time where your heart had ever hurt for anyone the way it hurt for him in that moment. It was a physical pain, pin pricking across your chest in a wave, and momentarily halting your ability to speak. You loved this man, fuck the moon, he hung galaxies in your eyes, and that’s what he thought of himself?

Simon, studying your expression and not liking the shame it made him feel, turned away. He didn’t know what to do with shame, especially in front of you. He’d said too much, and his mind was racing to find a way to undo it. Stiffening at the feeling of your arms barely meeting around his large form, he fought the urge to pull away.

Your voice was shaky, laden with the tears you didn’t bother fighting the fruitless fight to stop. “I wish I could get you to understand how untrue that is. I wish I knew where to start.”

He turned back around, but refused to meet your eyes. That startled you. Simon had never been afraid to lock eyes with you. He backed down from no one.

“Wasn’t an answer you liked then lovie? Sorry to disappoint.” He said quietly, taking a last drag before he ended the cigarette under his boot, and walked off back towards the clubhouse.

Tears streamed down your face at a faster rate now, and you tried in vain to swipe them away quickly. You weren’t sure what to say. Not then, too much was in the air as it was, and things needed to cool, but this clearly wasn’t settled

You only knew what you wanted to do. Hold him. Hold him until he saw how fucked his outlook was, and how much worth he really had.

Long out of town rides to create a bubble with just you and him. No specific destination, you just ride until you can both believe you’re the only two people you know.

He throws you a surprise party when you get certified as a tattoo artist, and Mrs. Price releases you from your apprenticeship to a chair of your own.

No one can believe Ghost is throwing someone any kind of party, but they don’t dare deny him as he enlists them in different tasks. He took the whole thing very seriously, and left no room for mistakes. No one, not even Soap, was careless enough to spoil the surprise. Simon wanted perfection.

It was obvious to anyone who watched his love struck gaze follow you when you were around, but if anyone doubted it before, they didn’t now. This man loves you.

Simon sometimes comes to you with a design he’s made for his next tattoo. It’s never elaborate, and it’s usually more utilitarian than aesthetic. He trusts you to make it pretty, he knows you will. He just wants to better convey his idea, or so you think.

In reality, he just likes when you praise him, and he can be part of your passion. He’s constantly amazed by your artistry, and humbled that you let him be a part of it. Essentially, you two collaborate on his tattoos in an undeniably intimate way.

He unceremoniously comes to you with a scrap of paper, something he’s sketched over the past few days.

“Somethin’ f’ya to look over when you get the chance.” He mutters before giving you a long kiss and leaving the shop.

You study the lines, shaky but serviceable, and the design clear. Your mind immediately began to think of ways to tie it into his existing tattoo’s style and his tastes. All the while, you kicked your feet, ecstatic that once again, the most complex person you knew was trusting you with this responsibility.

Si had some serious, high quality pieces on his body, and he thought enough of your hand to add to that.

Simon is usually more affectionate when you’re alone. In public, it’s mostly gliding fingers across your back, or a quick brush of his lips across your forehead. BUT, sometimes his intrusive thoughts win, and he has to slap your ass. This can happen anywhere, anytime.

You’re bent over the tattoo chair, disinfecting and scrubbing, and you swear you hear his hand cutting through air before you feel the smack.

“Si!”

“You put it there sweetheart.”

Shooting range dates. You’ve been judged by some of your more…conventional friends, but you’re a gun girlie (which turns Simon on like nothing he’s ever experienced), and you don’t care. They tried to make you feel like he was being inconsiderate taking you there. Meanwhile, it was damn near your demand.

Simon loves having friendly competitions, random kisses, and exchanging shitty jokes. Seeing you get excited, and engaging in a little tech/spec talk about a gun you love, gets Simon bricked up in 10 seconds flat.

You truly believe he’s taken you in hidden parts of the range more than either of your beds at this point.

Makes you keep track of football season when he’s away. Almost put you in a box and mailed you far away from him when you assumed he meant American football season.

“Don’t ever hurt me like that again lovie, I won’t be held responsible.”

Punishes you with edging and cockwarming if you miss any important details. It’s especially excruciating when he’s just returned, and all you want is him to stretch you out. Simon is a mean dom, and he won’t be moved by sympathy.

“Please Si, I only missed one game.” you whined, trying to get him to come back to where he’d just spent time building you up to fall on his tongue, only to pull away at the last second.

He smirked, rising to his feet which clued you into the fact that he really wasn’t going to finish you off then. “That’s a bad girl. Have the missing orgasm to match.”

——-

Gaz:

Lives for where you live. Your little house is his home away from home. Sometimes the gang can be on business that keeps them on the road for weeks, and the last thing he wants when he comes back, is to continue to be locked in close quarters with other guys.

That’s when you know he’s skipping clubhouse life to crash with you for a while. You love it as much as him.

Scented candles and incense, sweet laundry detergent, soft materials, home cooked meals. It’s such a soft juxtaposition to his previous journey.

Your hands are all over him, soothing bruises and kissing him over in mapped out patterns only known to you.

Kyle may not know the difference between a single thing on your beauty table, or much about the things in your bathroom cabinets, but he knows he loves how it all smells/looks on you when he’s running his nose across your skin.

“Baby, I gotta get ready for work.”

Kyle hummed in acknowledgement, but kept you pinned to the overstuffed couch, kissing your thighs in his own personal ritual. The two of you had been sequestered away for two days since he’d been back, but he still couldn’t get enough of you.

“Be good for me love, I won’t make you late.”

“Liar.” You giggled when he pinched you in retaliation. “If you do what it feels like you’re about to do, I won’t make it to the shop until noon.”

“Not a liar babe, you know that better than anyone else.” He pushed your knees up until they pressed against your chest. “I promise, you’ll be the first one there. Can’t say in what state though.”

Being the club secretary, it may seem like Kyle has the plushier job at the table. Wrong. He sees as much action as the other guys, and he likes to stay in shape. That’s fine by you, because you reap the benefits when you get to watch him working out at your place.

Kyle Garrick doing burpees and up-downs in your tiny backyard, clad in nothing but gray sweat shorts, and a thin gold chain against his chest, isn’t a sight that should be free. Yet, after Kyle has finished his mission of witnessing you walk funny at least once, it’s a sight you’re treated to when he sinks back into his home routine.

You somehow think you’re safe to creep-watch from the back doorway while you enjoy your green tea, even though Kyle catches you every time. He just always knew when your eyes were on him.

Without even turning to give you a look he called your name, laughing softly. “I should start charging admission.”

“I was thinking the same thing!” You stuck your tongue out at his back, slamming the door when he revealed he somehow saw that too.

Kyle comes to the salon and hangs with you between appointments. Sometimes he watches you work, and fake flirts with customers to get you more money. He’s great for business.

“Cost a little extra, yeah? But myself, I love a bird that sweats the details.” Kyle’s brown eyes and bright smile were a lethal combination against free will, you knew this for a fact.

The soccer mom in your chair ducks her head under his attention, cheeks filling in with red, as she tells you she changed her mind about the rhinestones.

You appreciate the efforts towards fattening your wallet, but sometimes he’s so effective, you get annoyed and drag him to the break room to remind him you own him.

When you ride with him, he loves looking down and seeing the pretty designs of your nails grasping his chest. Something about the contrast of hot pink, or pearlescent purple against the black leather of his kutte does it for him.

Kyle is definitely on the calmer side most times, especially for his lifestyle, but the fastest way to break that is someone meaning you harm.

You were out at a crowded club with the 141, their ladies, and some friends of the club. It was a celebration of good finances and a successful legal dodge.

The guys clung to a dark VIP section, there for the drinks and victory lap more than the dancing. On the other hand, you and the other girls were not there to sit idle.

After a tense few months, the cause of your respective relationship ups and downs with the guys, you guys deserved to cut loose. The table agreed, with your men shouting words of encouragement and flirtatious innuendo to hype you up.

The whole bar was enthralled by you and the other girl’s dancing, singing, and general untethered energy. It was contagious. You especially, you had a few drinks in you, and all that could currently keep your attention was the music.

There was, unfortunately, one outsider who got a little too enthralled with the performance.

When you peeled away from the group, following the uptempo rhythm, he thought that was his time to make his move.

You felt him press up against you while your eyes were closed, assuming it was Kyle, you almost ground back against him. Then you smelt the liquor. Kyle liked a drink like everyone else, and you’d even seen him drunk, but this was someone who’d been at it for a while. Disgustingly sour, too close, and ultimately not your man.

You sent a sharp hit back with your elbow, turning to confirm what you knew. It wasn’t Kyle. He grunted, but pushed forward again making you hold your hand up in a warning.

“I don’t think so.” you waved him off, laughing at the prospect of entertaining him.

Angered by your laughter, he got bolder, shouting to be heard. “Well I think so, but I’m real interested in knowing why you don’t.”

“Because I said what I said, and I have a man.” You were tipsy, but there was an underlying fire to your words lending them solidity. “Fuck off!”

He bristled at another dismissal. “Bitc-“

Kyle had appeared, most likely having started making his way to you once the man got too close, and clapped him on the shoulder. His expression said that he had heard at least some of what was said.

“Hi baby!” You shouted, a little loud even for the club, but that made it endearing. “That’s my man.” You told the asshole.

“Use your ears before I send you home carrying them.” He was gripping the man’s shoulder so tightly you should see the sharp knuckle bones flexing, his rings catching the light.

The man looked at the kutte, and the expression on Kyle’s face, and the exact moment he realized the man would act on the threat literally became apparent.

If that wasn’t enough, you had the ladies at your back, and the table alert and waiting for the call. It was over for the bastard before it even started.

He raised his hands and scurried into the crowd, aiming for the door.

“I love you baby.” You crooned, throwing your arms around him and covering his face with kisses.

He laughed. “I love you too, even when I know I’m going to be holding your pretty hair back all day.”

When the gang has to have a tense table vote in a briefing, their equivalent to some other mc’s “church”, you always wait for Kyle. As secretary, it’s his job to gather information on other gangs, as well as any important changes in the area, and his council is called on first.

You’re waiting for him right after, inviting him back to your house for the night, knowing he won’t want to stay in his dorm. He won’t show it then, but he’s disappointed, and when you get him home, you let him vent to his mind’s content.

All the while, you’re drawing him a bath, doing a light skin routine on his face, greasing his scalp, and curling up on the couch with his back against your chest.

You know his brothers have his best interest at heart, and respect his role in the club, but sometimes he can get in his head about it, and that’s when you step in.

——-

Soap:

Johnny kept his lifestyle a secret from you at first. You’d only been hooking up for a couple of weeks before you both confessed to wanting more.

The crew had mocked him relentlessly about his inability to keep a relationship casual.

“Give it up mate, you ain’t even foolin’ yourself!” Gaz had clapped him on the back, laughing right in his face. “You start up with a girl right, and it’s over. You’re looking for a house by sunup.”

“Och, piss off with ya! I can keep it casual!” Indignant, and maybe a little drunk, he elbowed the man on the other side of him. “Tell em’ Ghost.”

Simon glanced at him sideways, bourbon halfway to his lips, careful it didn’t spill due to the prodding. “Johnny, some pretty bird starts chirpin’ in your ear and it’s curtains. Now fuck off.”

He couldn’t believe his friends, no — brothers, had such little faith in him.

Cut to a few days later, with him balls deep in you, confessing he wanted more.

“I’ll be good to ya bon, I swear it. I’m all for ya, just be for me?”

The only thing that lessened the embarrassment of proving his friends right, was that you seemed relieved, and admitted it was what you wanted too.

He couldn’t help it. Ever since he’d been patched in, besides the camaraderie, he was enamored with the relationship between Price and his old lady. There were plenty of solid old lady/old man pairings around him, but something about the way the club queen cared for her man, kept the other girls in order, and still maintained a life for herself was astounding to watch.

He couldn’t help chasing that in every girl he’d gotten with since he’d joined up. So many girls wanted the mystique of a sexy biker, but that’s all he was for them. Either a living dildo, or an attraction they could make their friends jealous with. Things never got very far outside of the bedroom. Except once, but that didn’t go over so well in the end.

He wanted that ride or die bond so badly, he couldn’t wait to have the perfect old lady to wife up and fill a house with brats.

With you, he prayed he was it for you, because you had quickly become it for him.

You were a good girl. Specifically, his good girl now. He felt it was highly unlikely you would go for his lifestyle, and so he kept it under wraps at first. He knew he had to tell you at some point, but he wanted to soak up as much time as he could in case you checked out.

“Nah sweetheart, it’s nah like that. We get a little rough, but mainly, we just appreciate bikes.”

“Do ya think I have what it takes to be in a criminal organization? And with ya not knowin’ no less!?”

“Let’s talk about something else bon, did ya ken your thighs look cute warming my ears?”

Guilt eating through him like acid, especially when the club picks up on the fact that he hasn’t brought you around. Anytime Soap has a girl in his bed more than once, he’s parading around the club with her in no time. They know there’s something special about you, and that baffles them even more. Soap claims it’s because you live one town over, which you do, but Gaz calls him on his shit.

He’s hyper defensive, and fights until he’s blue in the face before he admits it’s true. He’s afraid you’ll turn out like the others, or reject him all together. He’s so far gone at this point, he’d rather you use him than leave him.

Price doesn’t like it, and councils him against lying to you any further for numerous reasons. Soap promises he’ll tell you soon, but he’s trying to convince himself as well as his president.

Eventually he couldn’t hide it anymore, but it wasn’t exactly his choice when the curtain got pulled back.

The two of you had been to a late movie, Johnny finally having had time to squeeze in a date with you after a series of back-to-back runs. You’d suggested coming to him for once to take the burden off. Before he could object, you’d admitted that you were already in town, and he’d rushed to meet you.

Though he was nervous about you hearing something, or seeing someone off-color that he knew, he couldn’t deny he loved the day he spent with you.

He never needed a reason to want to kiss you, but something about your soft smile under the parking lot lights compelled him right then. Maybe because your expression said just how content you were to be with him, and he buried that in his heart.

“Wait a minute.” He stopped you, lips on yours before you could ask why.

Parking lots didn’t exactly get safer as they got darker, and emptier, but he couldn’t stop once his lips touched yours. Then you started tugging on the curly hair of his Mohawk like you did when you’d really gotten into things.

He was just about to suggest he stay over at your place, when you were interrupted by a cop. You assumed he was going to warn you about loitering and apologized, but he and Johnny knew that wasn’t what it was about. He called Johnny “Soap”, and you were confused as to how they knew each other.

“Oh, Scotboy here goes back with the law a long ways back home.” The cop tried to clap Johnny on the shoulder only for him to violently dodge it. “Easy. I’m not booking you on anything…tonight.”

You were at a loss for what the cop thought he could book Johnny on, and called it out as harassment. Johnny knew, by the sick expression on his face, that the cop was eager to spill it all once he realized how little you knew about the man you were clutching. He tried to prevent that from happening.

“Yeah well, you’re just wastin’ time then, and we have a drive.” Johnny’s arm tightened around your shoulder as he started to lead you away.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what he’s told you, but if you were my daughter I’d want you to know. That’s a dangerous man you’re on the arm of.”

“Shut up.” Johnny growled, and he knew you had to be thinking about how you’d never seen him like this, but he’d also never been this angry around you.

“Johnny…” you pushed at him to try and get him to move, but he was rooted in rage.

He knew where the cop was taking it.

“This was when you were a prospect back in England right? The number you did on the guys from that other charter…interpol still talks about it. Oh wait…they never proved it was you did they?”

Johnny thumbed his nose and sniffed, jutting out his chin in utter opposition of the man in front of him. “Nah, wasnae even in the country at the time.”

“That’s right. You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve only read the reports our precinct got when you boys moved to town.” The obnoxious officer bounced his palm off his forehead in a mock gesture.

Johnny felt you squeeze his arm, grounding him for the moment, and he thought you might be saying something. His ears sounded like the Grand Rapids ran through them. A hot rage was settling into his chest, and spilling into other parts of his being.

The smug expression of the cop, one of the ones on the force who’d made things personal with the club was

“Johnny!” You shook him, finally getting through to him. “I want to leave.”

He exhaled, softening at your expression. Little tremors of adrenaline wracked through him, but he still led you towards his bike by a firm grip.

“You know, they included pictures in those files they sent over. What you did to those guys..” The cop whistled from behind you.

Johnny helped you into your helmet, watching as your eyes raced with questions, but you were so good for him. You would wait to ask him.

He brushed his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks. “Ignore him bon. Whatever he says, please.”

“But, the real shame is what happened to Anna.” The cop continued.

In a straight shot, Johnny launched himself at him. “Shut your fuckin’ mouth!”

“They cut her up pretty bad. Was her nose always on the side of her-”

—

He knew it was bait, and he admitted as much later, but he’d taken the active grenade in his hand all the same. The wounds that piece of shit poked were too raw not to, on top of probably killing everything between you and him.

Everything was designed to hit a critical point in him. His past deeds, Anna, and most importantly, you.

All he could think about was if he was going to lose you after tonight, there was no way he wasn’t going to make it count all over the bastard’s face.

The local police had been looking for something, anything, to get the club on, but they’d been too careful. That’s what Price had told you on the way to the precinct. Johnny had dialed for you while the cop was getting back to his feet.

“Was any of what he said true?” You were clutching your purse the way you had since you’d gotten into the car with Price and the club’s lawyer.

“I don’t know what you mean love?” Price looked at you cooly, not giving anything away, though you were sure he knew what you meant.

“Never mind.” You shook your head. “I know it’s true. Did Johnny really hurt those guys? Who’s Anna?”

Price kept his eyes on the road, while the lawyer kept his attention on his phone. The air couldn’t have been more tense,

“You should talk to your boy sweetheart. Don’t let some future desk-riding prick make you doubt the man who’d rip out his own heart just to show you it’s yours.”

You swallowed, hard, and didn’t say anything else until you got to the station.

“Um…I think I’m just going to Uber home. Tell Johnny I’ll call him.”

Price nodded, but his look was disapproving. “‘m sorry to hear that,” he adjusted his dark beanie. “But if that’s what you think is best.”

You did not call him. Not later when you were sure he had been released, and not the next day. You wouldn’t even open the never-ending text thread between you two.

He texted you early enough to be apologetic about it, and you had to push your phone to the far side of your bed to stop yourself from responding.

You went about your daily routine, getting ready for your shift at the diner. Your one room apartment didn’t allow you the luxury of pretending your phone wasn’t blowing up with text messages, but you were too afraid you’d cave if you saw the screen while attempting to silence it.

He showed up at the diner, and you pretended to be too busy in the back until he left.

He waited outside of your place, but you wouldn’t come down, going so far as to turn off the lights when you realized he was there.

No call was answered, no text replied to.

Johnny was a wreck. So much so, that as furious as Price and Ghost had been, as much as they’d come down on him, they weren’t sure he’d even heard it. They saw his regret, he did have his brothers and their families in mind, along with the fact that he was a higher ranked member who set a piss poor example for prospects and basic members.

The fact that his stunt could’ve cost them their freedom. He saw all of that.

But he was HURTING. Physically, mentally, emotionally. It was all Johnny could do to roll out of bed and do the basics before he crawled back again.

All the club girls dropped by his dorm. Some to be flirtatious, which he lashed out at, some to show sympathy.

Mrs. Price and Ghost’s girl were especially gentle. It’s the darkest period in Johnny’s life, even when factoring in the Anna situation. It’s clear to all around him, you’re it for him. His soul is yours, and he’s dying without you.

It was Simon who came to you and changed your mind. He couldn't take seeing Johnny that way. The whole table was worried, but Johnny was a little brother to the taciturn specter. He’d only see him like this once before, and this was ten times worse.

In the early afternoon, the diner’s customers were nothing but truckers and elderly folks. So when the 6’4 blond with trunk-thick arms, and a permanent scowl walked in, there was no ignoring him. You noticed the kutte, and thought about making a break for the back, but his look said ‘try it’, and you thought better of it.

Instead, you wound up in a back booth with him, taking your 15 minute break.

“‘m not the preachin’ sort, so I’ll get on with it.” He stared right through you, lighting a cigarette. “‘s no business of mine what you and Johnny decide to do, but you need to talk to him.”

You started to tell him no smoking, but didn’t feel like exerting the effort. Let your boss deal with it if it mattered.

Your hands trembled, so you put them beneath the table in your lap. “If it’s none of your business, then why are you here?”

”Because, it’s destroying him. You’re destroying him.” He turned for a moment to exhale away from your face, and then his gaze was cutting right back to you. “Lad’s a mess and a half without you. We’ve tried to sort him out, but it’s gonna take you.”

”He lied to me!“ the exclamation left your mouth without a thought to volume control, and you pointedly ignored the stares you knew were at your back.

”You knew.” he said simply. “You may not have known the specifics, and we told him not to do it that way, but you knew.”

Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly, trying to express the million thoughts in your head.

”You may be a town over, but our name gets around. I know you’ve heard somethin’.” He tipped the ash in the glass of water you’d gotten him. “You’re a smart bird by Johnny’s account.”

“If you told him not to lie, then why are you telling me not to be upset?”

“‘m not, ‘m tellin’ you to hear him out. Put him out of his misery, whatever you decide.”

The man left the booth, standing back to his full height and casting a shadow over the booth.

“He’s a right fuckin’ mess. Loves you more than life.”

“More than Anna?” The name that had been swirling around in your mind came out in a semi-bitter question.

There was something that could have possibly been a flinch, but you weren’t sure. It made you regret mentioning it either way.

He stubbed out the cigarette. “He’ll be round yours by the time you get off.”

He was. Looking completely unconfident and nervous about being there. His eyes were bloodshot, and his beloved mohawk showed signs of too many anxious tugs.

This wasn’t what you were used to with the confident man, and you didn’t like it. You understood, you looked the same way, but you didn’t like it.

He was apologizing constantly, between spilling streams of exposition that only served to confuse you, instead of clearing things up. You finally had to tell him it would just be easier if you could ask questions instead, and he sat back and became an open book.

It went all evening, and then well into the morning. Every question led into lengthy conversation.

—

“Who’s Anna?”

“...A good lass who didn’t deserve what she got.”

—

“So it’s definitely more than just appreciating bikes. Why?”

“They’re my family, and they’ve always had my back while lettin’ me be myself. If I have to do somethin’ a lil dodgy now and then, that’s a small price to pay.”

—

“I don’t doubt you love me Johnny, you make it impossible to, but how can I trust you after this?”

“By takin’ the chance to believe me when I say I’d rather die than go through this again. If honesty brings you back to me, I’ll never leave it out again.”

The sun is rising by the time the two of you are talked out. You make him stay, seeing that his sleep deprivation was starting to collect its due. It was you who didn’t sleep while you pet his hair from where he laid on your lap, and thought over your feelings.

He wakes when you inform him he has a phone call. He tells you to answer it, and you realize it’s a gesture towards the honest leaf turn.

He took the time to honesty dump with you, so you admit to him that while you’re still hurt, your mind's made up about taking him back.

It should have frightened you how quickly you sank back into things with Johnny, but what actually frightened you was the reason why. You realized you were just as addicted to him as he was to you. How had you lasted the past couple of weeks?

It’s a mutual obsession, only strengthened by a period of absence. Something he vowed would never happen again.

You let him give you your first tattoo, and you even let him pick the design. He couldn’t believe you trusted him with the honor, and he wound up asking if you were sure five times.

“Baby, yes!” you laughed, squeezing his cheeks as a form of cute aggression over his heart eyes.

This was such an intimate act for him, that he made sure you were completely alone in his dorm room when the day came. The room is spotless for once, sanitized to government standards. You can’t help but notice that he’s lit candles in your favorite scent, and his playlist is all soft music for once.

He spent weeks sketching the perfect concept, and even created variations for your choosing. He went through soooo many pages, unwilling to settle when it came to his girl.

In the end, it was decided, and he got to work on the inner wrist tattoo. All the while, he was checking in with you to make sure you were good.

“It’s just a small piece baby, I’m ok.” You always pressed a kiss to his nose to reassure him and get him back to work.

He looked so handsome, locked in concentration, that it almost completely distracted from the pain. You’d seen him work before, and you loved it, but this wasn’t just work right now. He was giving you something important, and you sensed that.

When he finally finished, he sheepishly, almost fearfully, asked you what you thought.

“It’s everything Johnny. When everyone asks who’s the talent behind it, I can’t wait to say he’s my man.”

Soap has no regard for anyone or any place when he wants you, which is all the time. You’re all over the clubhouse together. The couches, the hallways, the armory. Officially, clubhouse outer-walls are your spots during cookouts.

Gaz walked into the storage room, focused on finding a part for a customer. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed you through the empty space on a tall shelf.

“Hi, eh, Kyle!” All that was visible was your face, and he wondered for a second why you were out of breath.

“Hey (Y/N), what’re you doing back here?” He gave you a side glance and smile, his attention mainly on the organized shelves.

“I’m..” you bit your lip, unable to form another word as your eyes rolled back.

Kyle froze, realizing what was happening. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me mate?!”

“You walked in on us!” Johnny’s indignant cry came from below his line of vision.

Sooo many lunch break dates. Technically, Johnny is on shift at the garage, and should be preparing for the next day’s run, but his best girl needs him :( . You work so hard at that cafe, and they never appreciate you. Not like he does.

So when he takes the work pickup truck to get you, knowing Price has told him a million times it’s not for that, he can’t be bothered to care.

“Johnny, tell me you did not go across town to buy me this sandwich.” You already knew the answer, and you wanted to scold him for neglecting himself again. “You’re gonna be late getting back to the shop!”

“You love it though. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of ya.”

“That’s not the point, you-“

“You’re so pretty baby.”

And you melt and forget to be upset.

You can’t stay mad at Johnny with heart eyes and loving, grabby hands. Especially when those grabby hands start to get a little more focused…

What happens in the work truck, stays in the work truck. Until he gets drunk and brags at a club party….

The fun times were well and good, but Soap knew that the day would come when you got a glimpse at the uglier parts of the life. He barely got you back, and you throwing up your hands and declaring it was all too much was all he could think about.

They’d been having issues with the Shadows MC, and it was starting to boil over. They didn’t like the 141 moving in on their territory, but his table had made it clear that wasn’t up to them. This resulted in many skirmishes he could keep under wraps, but then it came to a head.

They’d hit the Shadows hard at one of their core locations, and in preparation for retaliation, Price and Ghost had called a lockdown. This meant all old ladies, kids, and friends of the club were to hunker down at the club compound until they gave the ok.

The day was here, and he’d been dreading it. He couldn’t very well leave you out there, he hadn’t exactly been subtle that you were his girl, but surely you wouldn’t go for it.

Nothing had been asked of you so far, and he was trying his best to keep from burdening you like the typical old lady. He felt you’d be less likely to leave if he kept the weightier things from you.

He must have paced up and down your street in the dark for over an hour. His phone was blowing up with demands he ‘get his ass back to the compound’ with you, ‘NOW’, but he had to do it right. It wasn’t easy to say “We mowed down some of our enemies, and destroyed their operation, and some guys could make you pay for that.”

He could lose you tonight. He could relive his past.

When he finally did get up the nerve to tell you, he was shocked at how well you took it. He knew you were scared, and you couldn’t have been too happy either, but he loved you for your strength in that moment.

All you did was quietly pack, while his mouth ran a mile-a- minute. Swinging wildly between telling jokes, assuring you you’d fit in just fine with the other old ladies, and apologizing. You kept telling him you were fine, but your smile didn’t reach your eyes.

It took a week to beat the Shadows back. In that time Johnny had been in and out of safe houses, with barely a spare minute to check in with you. If he was being honest, he was terrified.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that when he got back to the compound, you wouldn’t be there. You’d be long gone, and when he went to your place, the things he’d left (so sneakily) would be in a box waiting on the doorstep.

He was so sure of this, that he wanted to go by your place first, but his bone-weary brothers were barely sitting upright on their bikes. Battered and bruised to hell, he couldn’t ask them to indulge his paranoia. The table didn’t like to be too far from each other until they were fully assured they were whole back home.

He was the last to walk through the door, to the shock of his brothers, but he didn’t want to tell them he was probably about to scream his throat raw when he saw you weren’t there.

He clenched and unclenched his aching fists in anxiety. ‘Just look around the room you daft fucker!’ He mentally scolded himself.

He didn’t get a chance to. You barreled into him, arms locking around his neck. He stumbled back, weariness and shock combining to make his footing unstable, but his back hit the solid metal door behind him.

“I was so fucking worried.” You whispered into his neck, and he felt his neck dampen with what he presumed were tears.

“I was too…” he admitted, finding it in him to grip you to his person with a desperate strength.

Relief flooded his body when you started pressing kisses all over his face, and all he could do was stand there. Receiving your love.

“Oh!” You tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you. “Johnny put me down, the girls told me about how tired you guys are when something like this happens. You should be resting.”

“I’ll get to that bonnie, just keep kissing me like that.” He whispered, hands slipping into the back pocket of your jeans to keep you close.

You took over as soon as you got him back to his dorm room. You helped him undress, made sure he didn’t collapse in the shower, and even straightened his precious Mohawk while he struggled to pull on the sweats you’d grabbed him. All the while, awkward apologies from him. From you, excited recollections of all the things you’d learned from the strong women around you over the week.

Johnny supposed he had them to thank. In the back of his mind he’d been wondering what flipped the switch, and gifted him the kind of welcome home he used to envy the taken members of the club for getting. You were the best girlfriend he ever had, but an old lady was something else, yet here you were, excelling at that too.

And later, in his room after the hot shower, he collapsed face first on the bed. It took one, deep inhale of the fresh linen to know someone had done laundry. He exhaled with a hum, openly appreciating the clean scent.

“Yeah, you can thank me later.” You laughed, entering the room from his bathroom.

Johnny heard the sound of a lid pop, but was too far gone to look back and see what it was. Then you straddled his back, your soft hands kneading out a week’s worth of tension, self-inflicted and otherwise. He groaned, feeling the soothing lotion follow your hands over the peaks and valleys of his muscular frame.

“Addin’ this to my tab then?” He slurred, half in the dream realm, half with the love of his life.

“Yep, but I know you’re good for it.” You leaned down, nipping his ear, and making him mewl in frustration as he hardened against the mattress, knowing there’d be nothing he could do about it at the moment.

He used the last of what he had to flip you over, mentally cataloging the adorable squeak you let out. Cupping your cheeks, he shared a soft look with you for just a moment, before he sealed his lips over yours. All he could do was hope you could feel everything he wanted to say behind the movement of his lips.

Judging by your soft sighs, he guessed you could.

He pulled away, settling half on you, half off. “I’m settlin’ my debts soon as I’m up hen. Bet on it.”

He makes Ghost promise to take care of you if something ever happens to him.

“Johnny, shut fuck up,” Ghost glared at him, faint facial scars following his frown. “You’ll outlive us all.”

Johnny stared at him from across the meeting table, more serious than a personification of the sun had any right to be. They were the only two in the briefing room, for some reason the place felt sacred enough to Soap for such a request.

“‘m serious VP, that’s ma heart, I love her.” His accent thickened with emotion, and he sipped his bar as if to wash it back.

His fingers flexed around the sweating glass. “‘m gonna marry her.”

“Lads and I knew that the first time you talked about her.”

Soap smiled at that, but his expression quickly returned to its serious state. “Sweet girl and me have been talkin’ about kids, preferably after.”

A fond quiet bloomed between them at that admission. The two of you had told no one else, and Johnny felt guilty violating your pillow talk confessionals, but he hoped it would get Ghost to agree.

“Want that more than anythin’ VP, but I can’t pull the trigger until I know they’ll be looked after.”

“The club-“

“Not just the club!” He ran a hand through his mohawk in frustration.

Why couldn’t the stubborn fucking giant just agree?

“I know the club will look after them in general. I know I can trust our table, hope I can trust the other charters.” He sighed, refocusing. “You’re my best friend Simon. I just have to know my girl, and my bairn, would always have you at their back. If I died.”

“Wouldn’t happen. I’d lay my life down so you could make it back-“

Johnny shook his head, choosing not to repeat himself. Instead, he gave his friend a pleading look.

He could see a storm of thoughts and emotions competing for dominance in his friend’s mind. His expression didn’t change much, but it was in his eyes if you knew him.

He saw why Simon was resisting, he didn’t feel worthy of being looked to in that way.

Finally, Ghost responded after grinding his cigarette out in the dish on the table. “Promise the same f’me then. I’ve fucked her life up enough, shouldn’t still be doin’ it when I’m gone.”

“On my honor.” Soap didn’t even have to think, it was an instinct.

“Then tell your missus you’re ready. I’ll cover my end.”

———

Price:

Head honcho. Chief. The Boss. Captain of the ship. It’s all the same no matter who calls him what, President Price is in charge.

He founded the club after leaving his original due to lack of loyalty, and thoughtless endeavors. He works overtime to make sure his club doesn’t fall in the same way. His code of ethics may not make a lick of sense to anyone outside of the outlaw life, but they’ve garnered the respect and admiration of some of the toughest men around the globe.

They’d follow him through hell because they know he’d be the first one in.

When they’re on a run, selling guns or attending a meeting in neutral territory, John’s mind is all business until business is done. Then it’s all you. He loves hearing his guys talk about how they’re going to spend their new check, or swapping stories about their old ladies. Sometimes, he even joins in.

But what he really wants to do is celebrate with you. Most times you’re already up at the compound. Seeing to the legitimate businesses, taking care of the girls, helping the member’s families, etc.

He respects what you do, what you’re capable of, beyond borders. However, he can’t help but be jealous. You always come to him first, tight hug and a long soft kiss, but then you’re quickly looking over his guys. The men revel in it, almost becoming kittens under your motherly ministrations. Especially Soap and Gaz, who you’re in the same age group as, but you scold all the same.

When the last man has been sent on his way, he’s dragging you away to the little bedroom off his office. He knows you find it amusing, to see his selfishness win out over any tiredness he’s feeling.

Before the door can even close, he’s pulling you close and kissing you his favorite way. A kiss he didn’t know he was capable of until you became his wife. Anytime he was gone too long, you did something that knocked him off his feet, or your affection wasn’t directed solely at him, he kissed you that way.

He cradled your head, holding you steady when he pressed his lips to yours. He left no room for there to be room between the two of you. Rough thumbs slid under your chin, tilting your head up slightly before he slid his tongue between your lips. He knew he had to release you soon, let you remember how to breathe, but it was hard to fight the hunger.

“Nothing flatters me like my big biker husband being unable to share me for two seconds.” you teased, but your teasing came out in short puffs, as your lungs weren’t cooperating with you at the moment.

He could feel you swaying, going dizzy, and he brushed his beard over your ear to make you squirm before he said. “Jump love.”

You did, feeling his heavy hands grasp your thighs seconds later. He slid your legs over his hips, encouraging you to lock down around his waist.

“I’m just making sure you take care of what’s yours.” he thrust upward, hardness touching. “I promised it to you that first time.”

He laid you across the bed, staring down at you with a darkened smirk. “Take some responsibility for the state of your possessions.”

He’s the head of an organization that now exists in several countries. All that responsibility is tiring, even for a man so skilled at navigating it, and there’s been many a day when all he can do is lay his head down for the pain of the headaches.

You can’t count how many times you’ve come up to the club when he didn’t come home, only to find him furiously puffing a cigar and downing shots to dull the pain.

The guys had families to feed, there were good men behind bars for them that needed to be taken care of, he had tables back home that needed guidance, there were property expenses, legal retainer fees, and more. Much more.

That meant more risky non-legit work, which meant stretching the legitimate business to cover what that brought in. He had to know when it was time to expand, when it was time to halt, and when it was time to move to something else.

But he’s just a man, one man, and you’re there to remind him of that.

“John?” You had been expecting to find him in his office, but the moment you stepped into the club house, you saw him at the bar.

He wasn’t alone.

Phillip Graves, president of the Shadows MC finished off his drink and clapped John on the back.

“We’ll talk again.” He nodded his head towards you with a wink and a smile. “Ma’am.”

Your narrowed eyes followed him out of the door, remaining there until his motorcycle’s engine was a distant roar. At that point, you turned back to your husband.

He was gripping his forehead, lit cigar balanced on the heavy crystal ashtray next to him. The last remnants of whisky mingled with the melting ice in his glass, which he threw back before attempting a fake smile.

”Hello darling, you just close up shop?”

”Yeah, and I got home to find my husband wasn’t there. What the fuck John? You said you were going to work on this.”

You tossed your purse on the counter. “And Graves?! I can’t even-“

”(Y/N), don’t start.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do not have that in me right now.”

Sighing, you placed one hand on his back, using the other to put out his cigar. He protested with a disapproving grunt, but was too tired to do more than that. Your face softened at that realization.

He pushed back from the bar a little, allowing you to slide onto his lap, legs splitting over his thighs. “I’m just worried. You can lead a table, you can lead the whole organization, but you can’t carry the whole thing on your back.”

You cupped his head like he often did to yours, and massaged the base of his skull. His eyes slid shut, body going lax, and he practically purred.

Leaning down, you scattered gentle kisses on his face, careful to leave no spot untouched, before going in for a whiskery kiss. It was here John took over, thanking you for the attention.

“You know that it’s not you I don’t trust right?” you asked between kisses. “It’s him.”

“I know, and you know I value your judgment.” He got underneath your shirt, hands rubbing your sides slowly.

There was a moment of domestic peace and quiet. You massaging his temple, and he massaging your sides. Though you trusted the capable man going soft under your hands, you hoped he wouldn’t regret whatever Graves was bringing to your door.

John doesn’t come to your shop often, but it’s not because he doesn’t support your career. It’s because he can’t watch you work for very long without wanting you biblically on every surface.

You love his open attraction to you, so it’s not exactly the easiest thing to ignore. No matter how much you try to stay focused on the job, the man is the love of your life, and he looks handcrafted by god.

Hunched over a client’s thigh, your brows were drawn in concentration on the elaborate Victorian cameo piece.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see John lounging in the plush desk chair he’d dragged over. A good distance to respect your client, but close enough, he could keep eyes on his favorite person.

Your client was amused, laughing through a wince, she nodded in John’s direction. “You’ve got a not-so-secret admirer.”

“I’ve been caught lovely, what to do now?”

”Ignore you.” You quipped before glancing up at your client. “He’s my husband.”

”Oh,” she hummed. “That explains the heart eyes.”

At that, you did have to look up, instantly wishing you hadn’t. It was a visual trap.

John, sitting there like the king he was, manspreading with no shame. Black beanie, tight jeans, dark sweater with his royal kutte draped over the sweater, and leather boots. You told him more than once he could model, to which he feigned offense.

“Focus on your work.” John admonished, but the smirk he said it though was pure sin.

Your eyes had strayed below the belt, and John was fully aware of this. Reveling in it really.

”Don’t you have a bike to fix? A prospect to bottle feed?”

”Nope,” his arms crossed behind his head, an action you saw out of the corner of your eye. “I belong to my missus this evening.”

Your client cooed, undoubtedly enjoying the banter between you and John. You did too, too much, and his bit about belonging to you made you have to pause and readjust yourself.

”Every evening really.”

”That’s nice John.” You hissed, lifting the gun from her skin to wave him off.

Your client laughed, trying hard to hold herself steady for you.

“Don’t encourage him.” you turned yourself at an angle slightly, trying and failing to ignore him.

“Well, it’s really far more than just evenings isn’t i-“

You lifted your foot from the pedal, and placed the tattoo gun on the tray next to you.

“Kitchen, now.” You gave your client a sheepish smile. “We were due for a break anyway hun. Can I get you anything?”

She was visibly entertained by you and John, after all, the two of you had become a legendary couple in these parts for a reason.

“I’m good, take your time.”

John winked at your client, strolling behind you into the back. You waited until he was in the kitchenette before sliding the door closed.

”You’re such an ass.” But your hands were already under his sweater, running up and down his chest.

You appreciated that he took up so much space in the little room, forcing the two of you together. You could blame the room’s dimensions for being all over him, and not your unwavering attraction to the man.

“I haven’t seen you in 15 hours, yes, I counted. I’m always counting when it comes to you. You can’t ask me to behave.”

Large hands slid into your hair, fingers interlocking to cradle your head. He didn’t even have to pull you in to kiss you, and he grinned, clearly also appreciating the size of the space.

“You think she’s a big enough fan to give us thirty?”

You actually have three rings. Your engagement ring, your wedding ring, and one of John’s rings that he gave you the first night you fucked.

In the quiet of the briefing room, somewhere you were surprised to be, you sat on his lap. The two of you soaked up the afterglow, the party raging outside fading to a dull noise outside of your own world. Coming down from your high, you let out a soft noise of surprise when John gripped your hair to kiss you with one hand. The other hand grasped your own, the one that had come to rest on his chest when you’d ridden him into his throne.

He slid the silver, braided band onto your ring finger, promising. “The first to come”

He loves to get in the ring and show off for you. Sometimes, there’s a loud mouth from a visiting club, or another table visiting, and John takes them to the ring they have in the back of the club’s compound.

Usually, it’s Konig’s or Simon’s domain, but it’s not because John doesn’t love dishing it out as much as them. That becomes apparent when he delivers careful, strategically brutal, blows to his opponent. Enough to win, and then a few more to humble.

You had long ago stopped lying to yourself about how much it turned you on. So when John emerged from the ring, panting, abs catching the compound’s lights on a sheen of sweat, you always dragged him off. Under the guise of cleaning him up of course ;).

John’s breeding kink goes wild when he sees you with a baby, or any kid really. He’s been around the club life long enough to see many couples welcome kids. One of the first outings the two of you made as an official thing was to the hospital to see the birth of a member’s baby.

His old lady bonded with you, and you were quickly given child holding privileges. It came so naturally to you, and John felt what he figured the two of you would get to eventually quickly build itself a home in his chest. New Kink unlocked: breed you on any surface he could find.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, it was hypnotizing. His family around him saw it for what it was. Their president had this future scene, starring you and him, written all over him.

He thought the intensity of it was something he had to keep under wraps until he noticed you had the same feelings.

Baby showers, shopping for 141 babies, school drives and charities the club did for the local youth, seeing cute kids on social media. It didn’t matter, John caught on to the fact that you fucked him like a feral rabbit whenever you got that maternal glint in your eye. He didn’t call you on it until after you were married. The day when your shop receptionist went on maternity leave.

You’d been going on all through dinner, and then while doing the dishes, about how cute the kid would be, and you loved helping her with her nursery, and how she was already glowing. The more you ranted, the harder he got, until finally, he trapped you against the counter.

“I reckon it’d be easier to just say you want to be a mum.” he lifted one leg to his waist, and bucked against your clothed heat. “Say it.”

You stammered, eyes wide, pupils blown. “J-John..”

“Say it.” his voice somehow found a lower octave to sink to, choked with desire.

“What are you talking about?” you whined, embarrassed at being found out.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I’m hard as steel love, you feel that?” he grabbed your wrist, kissing the knuckles before quickly brushing them over his length.

“That’s how bad I want to make you a mum, can’t you just admit it too?”

Tilting your chin up, he placed tiny kisses under your chin, purposely dragging his beard across the soft skin after each kiss.

“C’mon then, tell your husband the truth so I can give us what we both want”

You whimpered, clutching the fabric of his t-shirt. “John..”

“Go on, invite me in.” he slipped his index finger in the top of your panties just enough to play with the elastic. Stretching it until it threatened to fly back against your skin before he eased it back in place.

You moved forward in an attempt to make his finger slip lower, and he laughed darkly, holding you in place. Shaking his head, he repeated his precious statement.

“Give me a baby John.” you huffed, frustration rising until all that you could do was spill the truth.

Gasping, you felt the cold tile of the counter beneath your thighs. You tried to process how he’d gotten you up there so fast, but your mind didn’t want to focus on anything other than your husband kneeling before you with the most determined look you’d ever seen.

As he slipped your panties and pajama shorts down your legs, he whispered how it’d be best if you prepared an excuse for work while you could still think straight.

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razzberriezz · 1 year ago

Text

Fashion Dreamer Tips & Tricks

Some stuff only I found that isn't mentioned or in-game at all or is easily missed as far as I'm aware? I hope it helps some of you guys out :) It is quite image-heavy under the cut, fair warning!!

Colour Matching (Item Creator) Pressing down on the left stick changes the display from mannequin to the item itself, but pressing it again will show whatever item you're creating along with whatever your muse is currently wearing.

So if you've gotten a custom coloured item from someone else, this is great for making items and accessories to match with it! And you don't have to waste 120k points trying to match colours by guesstimation instead like me :'))) Or maybe I'm just dumb because I knew how to zoom in and out, just not the display switching OTL

2. Showroom Configuration (is stupid) This is for the Happy Home Paradise players... Make sure that any mannequins or clothing you display in your showroom is actually accessible, because you cannot walk under ceiling decorations, even if they are lighting. I have no idea why. You also can't change the camera angle, so it'd be best not to put the door/panel decorations all in a row at the front, because then players can't see what you're even displaying (unless it's just like a mannequin in the middle surrounded by lockers... Idk)

Taking the time to plug my showroom again before I swap out the outfits for the fancier stuff I have >o< Find me at a8xv4JW3Am!

3. Muse Advisors There are at least 2 or 3 advisors who are present at the Muse Mirror in each Cocoon in rotation. (e.g. Noz and Iris in HOPE) They can not only suggest colours and unique makeup that you haven't obtained yet* (I've seen a look where your character gets like a Batman/Robin mask lol), but also give you their own! If the one whose look you want isn't there, you just have to quick-travel (press down on the right stick) to another Cocoon and back. Otherwise, you can just keep talking to them and backing out until their option shows up.

Before & After (Iris ver.)!

(*Unfortunately, they won't give you unique eye shines/reflections.)

4. NPCs I've just learnt that the NPCs you start with are most likely random. I've seen others start with NPCs I haven't even seen or heard of! You need to raise their friendship level until you get a special event that says 'Friend Introduction' - and even then, I think the NPC who appears next might be random (unconfirmed). This may make it quite a pain for those who want the unnatural skin colours, since I believe they are only unlockable via NPC friendship rank... So just go into solo mode and spam some outfits :')

5. Camera Angles and Idle Poses This one is a bit useless, but I didn't know about it until now so it's going in. Most of the time, I use the drone camera to take photos, but could never really fit fullbody photos - turns out, you need to angle the camera slightly downwards (have your character looking up) to be able to zoom out enough to fit your Muse's whole body in. If the camera angle is level with your Muse, you will never be able to get a fullbody picture. Who thought this would be a good idea???

Level angle and tilted angle - the level angle is already at the lowest it could go.

Additionally, waiting for a while will let your character have the time to perform some idle animations, some of which (I think) are not present in the poses option, even via NPC friendship rank. The downside is that you'll have to crop out some parts of the UI and the quality will be a little lower - however, that can be fixed using waifu2x (which I tend to use anyways for aesthetic posts lol).

Before & After using waifu2x!

Since the game is so new I thought this might be helpful to some who are also just starting out. If anything here is wrong, please let me know and I'll fix it as soon as possible!

#fashion dreamer #my.fashion.dreamer.posts #idk what else to tag so this is it for now

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nottswitch · 7 months ago

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would you be able to write how Fred and George would react towards reader accidentally turning themselves into a cat? like a potion mixup that turns us into a cat and somehow, he wander around to try get someone to fix it but bump into them along the way? I just find it a cute idea and fluffy! 🙌

tysm for this lovely request, I had such a fun time writing it and got a bit carried away (who would've guessed)! I decided to make it platonic, bc you mentioned both of the guys, but feel free to correct me if that's not what you meant! I hope you enjoy reading this little thing <3

warning: platonic!twins x reader, a teeny tiny bit of cursing

wc: 1.5k

Your favourite way to spend your free time was to hang around the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, no doubt. The energy was unmatched; you could always find something new to look at and play with even if you had previously browsed every single shelf. And, of course, the twins’ company was a more-than-enjoyable bonus.

There was a major downside, however – and it was the room. The forbidden fruit, something so enticing yet so dangerous – the laboratory where the twins kept experimental samples of their newest ideas. The temptation to try out some potions or sweets they hadn’t released yet occupied your mind at times, but you hadn’t let your impulsive thoughts win yet – hence Fred and George not restricting you access to the lab.

Apparently, all of you had too much faith in the soundness of your mind.

You wandered into the lab, just like you usually did every other day. The shelves were filled with various boxes and trinkets, but one of them immediately captured your attention – it was new and exciting. A small bottle of silver liquid faintly glimmering in the shadows of the “Potions” rack. Before you could stop yourself, your feet dragged you in the bottle’s direction. You picked it up and twirled it around to have a better look – no one’d prevent you from looking, right? A potion so beautiful simply couldn’t be dangerous, could it? One wouldn’t make such an alluring little vial if it wasn’t supposed to be drunk. You’d be less tempted if it had a “drink me” sticker plastered across it.

Before you knew it, the liquid poured down your throat, coating it with the richest sweetness and the freshest chill. You couldn’t hold in a satisfied moan – so tasty, so calming. And there were no side effects! Must not have been a successfully attempted sample, right?

Wrong.

You didn’t necessarily feel it, but your head went dizzy for a brief moment. Oh, that’s nothing, you thought, heading to the mirror – to check, just in case. The problem arose as soon as you looked – more so, tried to look. You couldn’t see anything, not even the mirror itself. The only thing in front of you was the wall.

“What the actual hell?”

No, the words were nothing like this. In fact, they weren’t words at all. All you could hear was a series of meows, so you wondered who could possibly let a cat in here, as the shop had a strict “no pets allowed” policy. But your initial surprise was washed away by a much bigger tidal wave of pure shock as you realized that no one did. You were the cat. A little black and white one, judging by the paws.

Shit. Or, as the only thing you could make out, meow.

You rushed out of the room with all the speed your little legs could provide. Down the stairs, one more turn – and you were in the main area of the shop, lost in a crowd of people, which was an everyday occurrence in the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Kids looked at you, laughing as you stumbled into tables, dumbfounded by an array of extremely unfamiliar sensations and meowing at the top of your lungs – likely added to the fun.

“What do we have here?”

You heard George’s voice somewhere above you and in a desperate attempt to get noticed bumped straight into his leg, getting dizzy once more. You stepped away, the already too-big-to-handle world spinning around. You couldn’t lift your head to look at the man in front of you, but let out a miserable mew to hopefully invoke some sympathy.

“Fred, come look at this!” George called, and his brother swiftly appeared next to him, staring down at you with the same stunned look painted on his face.

“A little kitty cat!” Fred exclaimed, ruffling his hair, a tinge of uncertainty in his voice. “How did you get here, little one?”

Not a single customer seemed to claim you, so the twins exchanged glances and turned back to you, scratching their heads. You were finally able to return their looks, trying your best to speak up, say it was you, how couldn’t they see? But all the sounds you produced were awfully similar to a language they couldn’t possibly understand – the cat language.

“Can’t have you here, little one,” George cooed, bending down to try to pick you up.

No! You couldn’t let yourself get humiliated like that! You hissed, backing away and shooting a piercing dagger of a glance in George’s direction.

“Oh, you’re a feisty little kitty!” Fred laughed and tried and failed to pick you up as well. “Come on, don’t be scared.”

You had to get yourself recognized somehow. A look around the shop didn’t help – people, lots of people, stuff flying around and nothing that could possibly give you away. Then, you had a sudden idea – a wild card that could possibly get you caught and kicked out, but you had no other choice. You gathered all your strength and will and started running up the stairs, towards the hangout room – sort of a living space where you could often find yourself with the twins, chilling after a long workday.

“No running!”

If you were a human at that moment, you would chuckle. Fred sounded just like Filch back at Hogwarts.

Both of the guys chased after you up the staircase, but you were faster – to be honest with yourself, you enjoyed having this much of an advantage for once. The much-desired door to the hangout room was open, to your delight – had it been closed, you’d be in much bigger trouble. You ran inside and almost knocked over a chair standing in your way. Fred cursed as he tripped over it and barely made it out without falling to the ground.

“You little prat!” he screamed, reaching for you but once again, failing to grab you as you wiggled your way out of his arms. “George, hurry!”

Your target was already close – a picture of you with Fred and George on the opening day of the shop, laughing and hugging each other. You jumped on the table – it felt so effortless that a thought to stay as a cat had briefly crossed your mind – and turned towards the room, where you saw Fred approaching you from the front with a wand in his hand; George was coming towards you from the right, spreading a small blanket in the air.

You had to act quick. You let out the loudest meow you could muster and your spotted black and white tail slid across the frame of the picture, following the movements of your human self.

“Freddie, tell me I’m not mad.” George squinted, trying to distinguish the movements of your tail. Your spirits were finally up and you tapped your smiling face with the tip of your tale.

“Mate, I’m as mad as you are,” Fred replied, putting his wand back into his pocket, “Is it…?”

You meowed in agreement, seeing as he was almost there with the guesswork. Fred exchanged playful glances with George and burst out laughing, his brother following suit.

“Bloody hell, what’ve you done?!”

George plopped down on the couch, Fred remained standing, his arms crossed on his chest. You decided to make yourself comfortable and jumped straight onto the armchair, wrapping your tail neatly around your paws.

“No, seriously, what?” Fred wondered, raising his eyebrow and staring at you as if he was actually expecting an answer. You let out an annoyed high-pitched meow. “What an idiot!” was what you were trying to say.

Realization dawned on the brothers at the same time.

“Merlin, the potion!” they exclaimed together, slapping their foreheads with their palms.

“’ight, mate, note – side effects.” Fred was still laughing, which greatly annoyed you and you decided your feelings to be let out by a warning hiss. “Subject turns into a spicy cat.”

You growled, but Fred only chuckled at your frustration.

“Don’t worry, it should wear off in an hour. ’course if we counted properly that is…” George attempted to calm you down, stretching out to stroke your furry head, but you could tell he was uncertain. The touch was nice though, and you caught yourself purring – a sound so unfamiliar yet so natural in your current state. “Aw, Freddie, look!”

You pulled away, not willing to give the courtesy, and before you knew it, your fangs were plunged into George’s finger.

“Ouch!” he screamed, shacking his hand in the air and blowing at a small wound starting to form on his index finger. “Note – unprompted aggression!”

You sat back, proud of your doing, your tail resting on your paws again.

“Oh, kitty cat, you will pay,” Fred warned you with a devilish grin on his face. “You still have about fourty minutes.”

His eyes glistened with mischief, same as George’s, when they looked at each other and then at you again.

“The first to pick her up wins ten galleons, go!”

You screeched, jumping on the back of the armchair as the twins lunged in your direction. The next fourty minutes were to be… promising.

my masterlist | how to request

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spaghettificationandpretzels · 1 year ago

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IM ON HERE TO CELEBRATE YOUR 1000 FOLLOWERS 🎉🎉🎉 WOOOOT!

Can I pretty please request Jax Teller for prompt #14!?

Thank you!!!!!

Masterlist

Insomnia

Contains: Very mild angst, fluff.

1.2K words

“My eyelids are heavy, but my thoughts are heavier.” - Unknown

You couldn't begin to express how grateful the late nights were less late now that the club was out of guns and drugs. The only downside was that Jax and the rest of the Sons were now just mechanics, they had cars to fix and taxes to file, not meeting deadlines meant parts didn't get bought and paychecks weren't written.

Anxiety still lingered when Jax was away at night, a hold off from the worry that the next phone call would deliver the worst news one could get. Tonight was one of those nights, even though you knew Jax was safe, your brain wouldn't quiet.

The sound of a door opening drew you from your thoughts, "What are you still doing up? It's almost one."

You shrugged, "The usual. I can't sleep when your side of the bed is cold. Your dinner is in the microwave."

Jax gave you a soft smile, "Lucky me because I'm starving. Sit with me while I eat?"

You nodded, "That's my plan." Jax hurried to the kitchen and warmed his dinner before sitting next to you at the dining table, "Did you get all your work done?"

"You bet, and I've got the whole weekend off so we can sleep in." You could smell the faint hint of oil on his clothes.

"That's great news, you know how much I love our lazy mornings." If you were lucky, Abel would be there too, between you and Jax.

"You and me both darlin. How was work?" He must have been hungry, half the food was already gone.

"The usual." You yawned and Jax reached across the table to hold your hand, "I'm sorry, I guess I was just waiting for you to get home."

Jax shook his head, "I'm almost done here. I'll hop into the shower then I'll be all yours."

You sighed, "That sounds perfect."

"How did Abel go at daycare today?" Jax loved all the pictures Abel drew for him, his locker, his office and his workstation were full of them.

You smiled, "He had lots of fun today, they got a new water table and he went wild. I had to throw his tiny little shoes in the wash, that's how much fun he had."

Jax chuckled, "I'll pick him up on Monday, I can't have you having all the fun darlin."

"Sure, he loves it when you go and get him." You went to take Jax's empty plate from him, but he yanked it away.

"I'll do that darlin." He rushed it to the sink before drying it and putting it away. Once that was done and he had wiped over the kitchen one last time, he walked back over to you and stretched out his hand, "Shall we?"

You nodded and took his hand, "We shall."

The trip to the bedroom was quick, and then Jax was stripping off and hopping into the shower, "You wanna get ready for bed darlin?"

You sighed, "I guess I better try and keep a routine, brushing my teeth and washing my face again won't hurt."

Steam filled the room as Jax washed the day away and smirked when he caught you staring at him through the shower glass, "See something you like darlin?"

You nodded, "You know I do Teller."

The shower flicked off and he stepped out, wrapping the towel around his waist before stopping by the kiss you on the cheek on his way to the bedroom to get dressed.

With his comfortable grey sweatpants on, he headed to the bed and flicked the heated blanket on your side before fluffing your pillow and peeling back the covers, "Hop in darlin."

You took your robe off and placed it on the chair, leaving you in just one of Jax's T-Shirts and a pair of panties, then climbed into bed with a sigh, "It's so much better with you here. Maybe we should get a cat so when you're not here, I'm not alone in bed."

Jax smiled, "I like that idea, we've got the room and it will be good for Abel to have a pet."

You reached over to the bedside table and picked up the bottle of the lavender lotion but before you could do anything, Jax took it from you, "Let me?"

You nodded, "I'd like that."

He started with your arms, rubbing the smooth cream in with broad, firm strokes, "What do we need for a cat? Food, water fountains, a few litter trays and toys. Hell, with Happy's help, we can have one by Monday."

He pinched your shirt and you pulled it over your head so he could do your shoulders next, "We need a bit more time than that. The kitty should have a catio, that will keep you busy over a few weekends and once that's build and the cat can enjoy the outdoors without killing anything we can get the kitty."

The corner of Jax's mouth ticked up as he moved to your chest and a thought came over him, "We can tell Abel can't we? He'll want to help."

Your eye grew heavy as you spun and his hands moved over your back, "Sure we can tell Abel. He'll want to name the kitten and he should come when we pick. Not that it means anything, the cat will pick us."

You returned to facing him and Jax moved to your legs, rubbing the ache out of your claves, "You've already said you'll let the cat on the bed so I only have one rule, he or she has to stay away from my kutte."

You chuckled, "You and I both know that's not going to happen, cats do what cats want."

Jax sighed and placed the bottle back in its spot before picking your book up, "I guess so. How are you feeling now darlin?"

You smiled, "Great, I'm ready to call it a night." You slid all the way into bed and placed your head on the pillow, "Will you read to me, I love the sound of your voice."

Jax looked over you fondly, "Of course, darlin, that was my plan when I picked up your book." You had been reading it to him for days, a sweet tale of a little robot in search of life on Mars who made friends with an alien.

"Rusty lifted his little arm and ticked as he handed the apple slice to his friend, 'Apples are one of human's favourite fruits, you should try some.' The alien took the slice from him with a squeak and ate it in one bite, then gave another squeak of approval at the sweet taste."

You snuggled closer to Jax and he wrapped his arm around your body, "The Alien squeaked again, then waved its arms before pointing to itself and then to Rusty. The series of squeaks that followed sounded like the robot's name and then another which must have been its own."

Your eyes felt so heavy as Jax continued, "It made sense when Rusty heard it for a second time, 'Your name is Eldredth? Tell me Eldredth, have you ever had chocolate? It is the best of the human's treats."

Jax smiled as he felt your chest rise and fall softly under his arm. He put the book and laid down next to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead and pulling the blanket up to your neck, "Good night Darlin, I love you."

Fin

#Jax teller #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #fluff #soa #jax teller #sons of anarchy fanficton #sons of anarchy fluff #jax teller imagine #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller x you #jax teller x reader #samcro #jax teller fluff #charlie hunnam #fix it fanfiction #jax teller smut #charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam fanfiction

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wowwforever · 4 months ago

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POKEMON EVIL TEAMS RANKED BY HOW LIKELY I WOULD BE TO JOIN THEM

Team Flare

I'm not wearing that suit and I'm not changing my hair. Lysandre is easily the fucking dumbest antagonist and if their plan is successful either they're immortal and I have to live with these losers forever or the whole world dies and I have to live with these losers until I die.

Team Yell

This entire team is centered around having a parasocial relationship with a teenage girl. Also British.

Team Galactic

Similar horrible haircut, bad outfit, and death cult scenario to Team Flare. At least they're like a semi-actual company. I could maybe just go bald and get a regular job after the Poke-government liquidates Team Galactic LLC. But I legitimately think this would be the least fun evil company to work at. Imagine stealing some kids Pokemon but you get chewed out by fucking Galactic Admin Uranus because you forgot to fill out the Paperwork.

The Lame Part of Team Plasma

Okay so to clarify these are the people that actually believe in the Team Plasma shit, which means I'd probably be spit on in the streets while wearing chainmail in New York. Why the fuck would I wear Chain Mail on the East Coast? Do you know how much rust there is? Also I have to become a ginger and worship some green manchild as a monarch. At least they're not a death cult.

Team Rocket

This one is just being a criminal. Like, yeah, you get to steal Pokemon but there's no real advantages except the free gray boots. Probably does not pay well and Giovanni leaving kind of sent them spiraling. Plus they have a lot of Koffings in an underground base so you know there's like lung damage galore. The R stands for Respiratory Distress.

Team Aqua

I don't like the idea of being surrounded by the ocean and I do not like boats and submarines. I would actively join this to sabotage their plan. Also every other evil team has an actual place to put their Pokeballs but this one it seems like the plan is to just shove it in my underwear? ???

Team Star

I haven't actually played Scarlet and Violet because I recently learned I can legally drink. I think this one is the equivalent of a school club? So I'm not actually getting paid to do evil shit. I'd probably just join, like, DnD club or something.

Team Rainbow Rocket

I'd join this one just because I know it's going to fail. I mean, it's got like four people who explicitly just want to end the world in different ways. I'm just gonna join and steal pens and shit until it eventually crashes in on itself for infighting. I'd wear my gay-ass R shirt every june in line with a P, I, D, and E.

The Cool Part of Team Plasma

Fuck yeah. This is the Team Plasma that knows the shit Ghetsis is up to. I'd love to be in on the scheme, plus I don't have to wear chainmail. Downside is I'd probably get murdered or have to murder to stay in, and they have the biggest shot of accomplishing their goal. But Ghetsis is hot so that's a plus.

Team Magma

This one is because there's 0.0% chance this plan will work but I get to just hang out in these cute-ass hoodies and pet camerupts all day. Look at that outfit, I'd wear that all the time. That being said, would probably have to be a field guy. Their location is in a volcano. I'm gonna get a call that says 'Hey all of Team Magma's leadership died' and I'd have to get a job at like Poke7-11 with a major gap in my resume.

Macro Cosmos

This hardly counts as a villain team because they're just, like, security guards for a company whose CEO goes a lil nuts. This is like if you worked for Virgin Atlantic and Richard Branson decided to summon Satan. No one can really put that on you. You'd probably get paid ridiculous amounts of money for essentially doing nothing. Con is you'd have to live in Galar.

Aether Foundation

Working for the Aether Foundation is like doing an internship at Bell Labs or whatever. The evil shit is probably fixed by the end of the game and I could just go back to researching Rotom electromagnetic applications and have that 'week where we tried to fuck up reality' be a weird company thing we brush under the rug. The con is they have all white outfits so I can't eat spaghetti at work. But even if I left I could probably just use Aether Foundation as a decent enough jumping off point for any career.

Team Skull

Genuinely this is just goofing off with a bunch of scummy weirdos. I can respect that and their outfits are thankfully not skin-tight jumpsuits, but main I'd join because they all kind of suck. With the most moderate competency I could run Team Skull. Also Guzma. He's pretty hot.

#text post #pokemon #team rocket #team skull #team galactic #team plasma #team magma #team aqua #team flare #team rainbow rocket #i forgot someone but idc

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mm-lurking · 5 months ago

Text

Nothing will ever fix us - Jiyan

A/N: Had an idea while I was sick and I ran with it. Warnings: Jiyan x fem! reader, angst with no happy ending, not really proofread I got tired WC: 2444 -- Everyone around you always talked about timing when it came to love. “If you find the right person you will make it work no matter what!” “There is no such thing as the wrong time.” “If you really wanted to, you would have.” It was so easy for them to say. So easy for them to say, you think as your fist tightens into a ball and your knuckles turn white. The item in your fist protrudes into your skin and the irregular edges pinch at the thinner edge of your palms but the pain is nothing compared to the aching in your heart that shows no signs of dulling.

You unravel your fist and stare at the item again. It was a necklace Jiyan gifted to you on your first anniversary together. You remember how surprised you were staring at the J-shaped gold pendant decorated with tiny emerald pieces. The shock on your face as you tried to form sentences only to look like a dying fish had Jiyan chuckling loudly, a sound you so dearly loved to hear.

“Jiyan…I…what-“

“Do you like it?”

He softly asks as you hold the necklace box in your hands. He notes how your hands shake slightly, as if afraid of the weight that the gift holds. One of his slender hands holds onto your occupied hand and he gently squeezes them.

“I- of course I do! But-“

“As long as you like it, my love.”

You gulp as you pry your eyes away from the glimmering necklace and look into his golden ones.

“Jiyan this is too much…and it’s just our first anniversary you can’t-“

“Nothing is too much when it comes to you. Nothing.”

You sense the determination and sheer amount of love he has for you. His voice is firm and resolute as if he’s sure he wants you right now and forever. That there is no one except you in this lifetime and more.

Tears blur your vision and you clench your teeth so tightly that you can feel them aching into your gums. The necklace falls from your palm and hits the floor with a loud thud as you bring your hands to your face and sob heavily. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. You didn’t want it to end like this. What choice did you have?

Jiyan was the perfect man. He truly really was. A well-versed medic and general with a gentle personality who knew when and where to display his power. He was observant; no detail ever slipped his eye and he made sure everyone and everything was taken care of. That is exactly what made you fall in love with him so deeply. You swore this man had no flaw -he was so well-rounded that nothing about him was a problem to you. Sure, he was stubborn and cared more for his troops and others than himself, but don’t we all? Aren’t we all like that for the ones we love?

Yet when days turned into months, and months into years you realised that perhaps, just perhaps, the downside to meeting such a perfect man was that you were fated to never have him close to you. That when duty called and the lives of civilians were at stake you had to sacrifice your relationship so he could keep everyone safe. The sacrifice of your love was crucial so the army troops were not selfishly sacrificed.

The first few times it was fine. You didn’t mind having to part ways with him because it was part of the package -it was part of dating General Jiyan. You knew what you signed up for and you were ok with it. You were prepared to be lonely because you had been single before, so what was so hard about having a man but just not having him by your side? At least you had a companion, one so beyond your league you still wondered what you did to be blessed with him. You were his and he was yours.

But there is only so much burden a heart can hold. Some nights you couldn’t sleep when your aching heart haunted you instead of a good night’s rest. Some nights your anxiety ran wild as you thought of all possible worst-case scenarios of Jiyan getting hurt or worse…finding out he’s dead. Some nights you stayed awake wondering why you hadn’t received a reply from him when days and even weeks had passed. Other nights you stayed up sobbing into your arms, wondering when you would get to walk around with Jiyan in the city and have fun like all these other couples did. The bed was so cold and empty without him.

However you persisted. When those long nights passed and your tears dried, you washed your face, sucked it up and went to work. You had a duty to fulfill and the world didn’t care how painful it was to practically never see the man who owned your heart. You didn’t hold Jiyan accountable, you knew he didn’t do it on purpose. His long letters to you detailed how much he loved you and missed you and how sorry he was for missing the second anniversary or your new promotion or how he couldn’t make it back in time for the new years and other holidays where families celebrated together…you forgave and you forgave.

Until your third anniversary came around. He had told you he would be there for the day as work had lightened up. He told you he had a surprise for you and that he wanted you to dress your best and meet him at a specific spot. You remember how giddy you felt reading that letter, kicking your feet like a teenager in love and screeching with each word he wrote. Finally! Some quality time with my man!

If only you knew.

He didn’t show up on the promised night. You waited and waited but there was no sign of Jiyan. The sun rested and the moon rose yet the love of your life wasn’t here. You stood there awkwardly, dressed head to toe like a supermodel compared to the civillians as they eyed you while walking past. Some grandmothers even offered to take you home, wondering what a maiden like you was doing alone dressed like this in such a place. The embarrassment turned into tears that bubbled in your eyes and eventually, you stormed home out of humiliation and frustration. Enough was enough.

The doorbell rang at 11 pm that night. You had changed out of your attire and gotten ready for bed. With a heavy heart, you went to open the door only to find the man responsible for your heartache standing there. You remember the way your tear-stained face turned into one of fury as you stared at him, angry and infuriated.

“Leave.”

There were several million things you wanted to say but that’s all you manage to squeak out. Jiyan stands there with an exhausted face as he looks at you, his heart breaking as he hears the coldness in your voice. You try to shut the door on him but his muscular arm blocks you from doing so.

“My love please-“

“Do not even use that term on me right now, General Jiyan.”

His Adam's apple bobs as he harshly swallows. He knew he messed up big time but he wanted you to listen to his side of the story.

“Something came up. I swear I didn’t do it on purpose. I was going to come to the city but there was an emergency I had to resolve. Unfortunately it took much longer than I expected, for which I apologise.”

You scoff. You had spent this whole time crying and just when you had managed to calm down, of course he had to reignite the tears again. You angrily wipe your tears as you point your finger at him.

“Every single time you couldn’t come to see me, I forgave you. I forgave you for missing holidays, my new promotion, all important milestones in our relationship…I forgave and I forgave and I forgave!”

With each word you speak, your tone gets harsher and louder. Your finger trembles as you jab it into his chest continuously. You were fuming from how much he had neglected you all this time. Jiyan frowns in sadness as he watches you express your anger.

“The one time,” you say shakily, “the one time I had my hopes up for us, the one time I went all out as you requested me to do so… you just had to get me excited and happy only for you to shatter everything into pieces, didn’t you?!”

Hot tears roll down your eyes as you continue to yell at him. He tries to move away from the door and step inside your house but you prohibit him.

“Don’t even think about coming inside Jiyan.”

“Please, listen to me.”

“There is nothing left to listen to! Do you not understand?!”

Sobs wreck your body as you cry even harder. Your head hurts from all the tears you shed today and your eyes show no signs of stopping anytime soon. He extends his arm forward to comfort you but you swat it away.

“I don’t want anything to do with you anymore Jiyan. This…,” you point back and forth at the two of you, “is not working between us.” His eyes widen and waver at your words, unable to believe you would say such a thing.

“If…if you need more time, or a break away from me I totally understand but please,” his voice quietens as he continues, “please don’t leave me.” You can hear the pain in his words and it makes you cry harder but you shake your head.

“Don’t make this difficult for me. You can barely come back to the city to visit your mother let alone come visit me. You have spent most of your life on the battlefield and it’s the only place you ever will be. You don’t have time for me Jiyan, admit it. Admit it that you cannot give me the time and attention I need.”

Your voice breaks by the end of it. You never imagined there would be a day you would have to break up with this man. You truly thought you both would be together for eternity, that no matter what came your way, no matter what obstacles you faced, no matter how difficult things got for both of you, you always thought you both would be together through it all.

Yet that was never meant to be the case.

Jiyan forcefully swallows and stares at the ground for a moment, contemplating something as tears fill his eyes. Then with great sorrow, he looks up at you and awkwardly smiles. You cannot stop crying as you gaze into his eyes, hiccuping through your tears while trying to say something. You wanted to comfort him but that would make your decision harder.

“If…if you ever find yourself wishing for me again, my love…please know that my doors are always open for you.”

You wail like a widow upon hearing those words.

“I am sorry…I am sorry for doing this Jiyan…but this is for the best.”

Your throat burns from how aggressively you’ve cried so far. You shake your head, not wanting to deal with this anymore. The longer he stayed the more difficult he would make it for you to stay true to your words. You close your eyes and take a deep breath before giving your verdict.

“Leave Jiyan. Go. I hope you find your happiness elsewhere.”

His gaze lingers on you for a little longer as he takes in the last of you. You can see him trace your features mentally, etching every curve and crevice of you into his memory to last for a lifetime. Then with a heavy heart, he turns around and walks a few steps before stopping. He looks sideways, just enough for you to see his side profile but not enough for you to see the heartbreak that is visible on his face.

“I will never find happiness in anyone but you.”

Without turning back he walks away, leaving you in fresh tears as his grieving voice rings in your head. You watch him leave until he disappears from your line of sight. A gust of wind shuts your door close, closing off not just your encounter but also your relationship with him.

The flashbacks force you to open your puffy eyes and you slouch against the wall slowly as you slump to the floor. You can’t help but tug on the hairs on your scalp as everything hurts and burns. The necklace he gifted you lays by your feet and you stare at it for a while before hesitantly picking it up while crying. Anger surges through your body and you throw the necklace across the room, screaming in agony as you do so.

You want to hate him for making you feel like this, for taking your heart so lovingly and crushing into nothingness but the logical part of you knows it’s not his fault. You know he would never willingly hurt you and you know he didn’t want to make you feel like this. Yet sometimes as human beings our actions speak louder than words; no matter how many paragraphs of sickly sweet love letters someone writes, no matter how much someone says they will be there for you through thick and thin, their behaviour will speak volumes.

Simply put, he couldn’t love you the way you deserved to be loved and nothing could fix that, not even his letters and gifts to you. And even after two months of breaking up with him, you find it hard to find closure over your broken relationship. You stay there on the floor as you continue to cry your lungs out, letting yourself be a mess. In the distance, your phone screen lights up from an unknown number. You are too occupied in your grief to pay attention to the messages.

[sent 23:07] I…I know you’ve blocked me from reaching you so forgive me for finding another way

[sent 23:11] The battle was tough and I fear I don’t have much time left

[sent 23:13] But if I had to choose this life again

[sent 23:15] And I had to choose to love you again

[failed to send] I would

[failed to send] I would do it in a heartbeat

[failed to send] I love you

[failed to send] Forever and always

#wuthering waves #wuwa #wuwa jiyan #wuwa scenarios #wuwa x reader #jiyan wuwa #jiyan wuthering waves #wuthering waves jiyan #jiyan x reader #jiyan x you #jiyan x female reader #angst #wuwa angst

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year ago

Note

i watched spto and i'm down bad for matthew patel now so uh- can i request platonic matthew patel x reader where reader works at gman media and they become friends with him after he realizes just how out of his depth running the place and just like breaks down to the nearest person that he has no idea what he's doing?

Oufh I gotta admit the same thing-

......

Being a custodian at G-Man Media certainly wasn't the job you hoped for, but at least it was a job that paid well...better than anything McDonalds could have provided.

And of course, that's only because it used to be run by gazillionaire Gideon Graves.

Yes. Used to.

There was a huge change in management that literally happened overnight--as your boss was defeated in battle by Matthew Patel, and he became the CEO of pretty much everything the former had.

The two record labels, fourteen animal shelters, movie studio, etc. etc. were now all his for the taking.

Never in a million years would you imagine that this theater-obsessed punk who was Ramona's first evil ex-boyfriend would be able to overthrow the G-Man himself.....and yet he won.

Of course, the aforementioned battle they had resulted in some serious damages and a lot of repairs having to be done in several rooms and floors. But if anything you were just relieved Matthew chose to disband the League of Evil Exes. You didn't have to clean up all their messes or fix anything Luke, Todd, or the twins' robot might have broken.

Even better was that Gideon wasn't around to nitpick at every little thing anymore.

That was a huge upside for you.

On the downside, however...your new boss was somehow both better and worse than him.

Matthew was thrown into such a tough role so quickly, and while he seemingly had everything under control with his demon hipster chicks becoming his agents.....sometimes he just looked lost.

Sure, he seemed to like shouting out orders and getting escorts in fancy helicopters, but when it came down to actual business stuff, he kept asking his employees about different things--even painfully obvious things.

You've never talked to him much even before this, although you usually keep to yourself and don't really speak unless spoken to. But you can tell he's struggling to maintain his image.

Still, you don't wanna say anything that might anger him or get you fired.

And besides, he had mystical powers that were ten times cooler than anything Gideon ever had, so pissing him off would be most unwise.

.......

It's late in the evening when you're heading to your final stop before getting to go home: Matthew's office.

He didn't say anything in particular had to be repaired, although you figured there was no harm in double-checking things. For all you know, the TV's wiring might need to be fixed or a screw in the table might've come loose.

Hopefully he didn't mind. You're usually in and out of there by the time he returns from whatever business trip he attended.

Yet upon entering his office, you stood in your tracks upon seeing that he was there, sitting all alone....apparently brooding and monologuing to himself. You were used to seeing him doing that sort of thing.

But this time something seemed...off.

Even his demon agents were concerned and looked grateful you showed up, immediately stepping aside so you could walk in further, hearing his mumbling become more coherent.

"What am I doing with my life? This isn't what I went to college for..."

"Mr. Patel, sir?" You called out cautiously. "Is everything okay?"

"....no, actually. Everything is NOT okay!" Slamming his hands onto the table, he stared up at you from across the table, taking a moment to identify you. You could see how exhausted and bloodshot his eyes were, along with his eyeliner looking more smudged. "You're the custodian, right...[y/n], was it?"

You blinked, surprised he remembered your name. "Correct. I was just-"

"Look, [y/n]..I've been feeling really awful lately and I just need to....get some stuff off my chest. And since you're the only one here right now, you get to listen to me." He then pointed to a chair near him. "Sit, and don't you dare tell anyone what we've discussed, capiche?"

Even though the clock was ticking close to the time you went home, concern over your boss' mental stability took priority over everything else at that moment. So you listened to his demand and took a seat, remaining silent and patient.

As Matthew slumped back into his chair, his whole expression shifted into one of sadness, as though he just lost his best friend. "I'm....not cut out for this job..." He confessed. "This isn't what I envisioned myself doing."

"I imagine it's been difficult. But for the record, you've only been doing this for-"

"I've already lost this company billions of dollars."

You blinked. "Billions, sir?"

"Yes, billions! You know, I-I only defeated Gideon Graves in battle because he would have taken my life if he won. And for a while it felt good to have all of his fame and fortune.......but now it....i-it just sucks! The paperwork never stops, I can barely catch a break, I don't know any of the computer passwords, and I don't even like wearing this stupid suit!!" Laying his head on the table, he banged his fist against it, choking back tears. "I'm a theater major..not a business major, damn it!"

'Poor Matthew..' You frowned slightly. "If all of this is so overwhelming, maybe you could-"

"No." He quickly sat up, his face darkening with a deep scowl. "I am NOT giving anything back to that lying scumbag! Besides, we have a legally binding contract that states all his properties are mine! That means permanently! Forever!"

"My apologies, sir..i-it was only a suggestion." You put your hands up, feeling tense especially as his demons were now frowning at you. "I know you've been under a lot of pressure lately...and there's no shame in admitting that."

Matthew blinked. "You've noticed?"

"I have." You nodded. "I mean..a lot of people go to college for one thing and suddenly wind up in an entirely different field. I know my opinion may not matter much, but...I think you're doing a great job despite your lack of experience."

He shrunk back, no longer looking angry but rather...guilty?

"Thank you.." He sighed. "I'm sorry for never saying this, but you've been a huge help cleaning up after all our messes when we had the League of Evil Exes. So..you better give yourself a little credit, too."

Now it was your turn to be flattered, as you smiled and chuckled. "Thank you, Mr. Patel. I appreciate that."

"Uh-huh..and there's something else, too.."

"And what would that be?"

"....I only refuse to throw in the towel because this company can give me the funds necessary to make the Scott Pilgrim musical a reality." He confessed.

"Oh?" You raised an eyebrow. "A musical based off of that guy you killed?"

"Yes. But apparently he's alive. Ramona told me."

"....I see-"

"BUT as soon as the production takes off, I may or may not return some of Gideon's empire to him. I'm sure that asshole is scheming to reclaim it as we speak..." He grumbled, his attitude turning sour again.

You thought about what you could say to cheer him up without patronizing him...but fortunately that wasn't too hard to figure out.

"I wouldn't worry about him. May I ask who you'll be starring as in the musical?" You rested your arms on the table, smirking as you saw the way Matthew's eyes lit up.

"Why, of course!" With a wide grin, he jumped up onto the table, dramatically posing. "I will be the main character: Scott Pilgrim!! I vow to delight and entertain people everywhere!" He laughed, before he stopped and stared down at you. "[Y/n], may I show you a presentation of my many one-man shows? They've all prepared me for this moment and I'd love your opinion on them."

"Sure." Shrugging, you smiled and leaned back in your seat. "I'm getting paid overtime for this, right?"

His face fell flat. "...I'm supposed to give you guys overtime?"

"Well...Gideon never did, but--nevermind." You shook your head. "You can roll the footage."

His grin returned as he snapped his fingers, causing the room to darken and the TV to come to life, showing off one of his many recorded performances.

It was a two hour long video, but entertaining nonetheless. You recognized a lot of the songs and were impressed by all his method acting.

It's no wonder he made such a convincing CEO.

After that, he finally allowed you to go home with a promise to give you overtime....although not before he exchanged phone numbers with you as thanks for being his unofficial therapist for the day.

He claims it's so he can update you on the musical's progress and "other business stuff", as he put it.

But he kept calling you on your days off to talk, insisting you referred to him as Matthew instead. "Mr. Patel" was slowly starting to leave a bad taste in his mouth.

You didn't mind it, though.

At this point, you accepted the fact that you became your boss' first (and possibly only) friend.

Maybe after he surrenders the G-Man empire for good, that friendship can continue.

#clanask #anonymous #scott pilgrim x reader #scott pilgrim takes off x reader #spto x reader #matthew patel #matthew patel x reader #platonic

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chelseasdagger · 1 year ago

Text

Behind the Red in My Eyes

Mikey Berzatto x Reader

Summary: Mikey comes home, yet again, exhausted after a long shift at The Beef. You offer him some encouraging words and his favorite touch to unwind.

Warnings: cursing

Author's Note: This is my first entry for @bernthirst-events's Beardthal Bash! I had this idea for a while, but I ended up writing way more plot than was needed oops! I still hope there was enough mention of the beard to count!

Word Count: 2.9k+

Mikey Berzatto took pride in his work. It may not be the most glamorous job, but he put countless hours into the family restaurant that he tries so hard to keep afloat. It’s one of your favorite things about him—how much heart he puts into everything he does.

The only downside is how often you’re stuck missing him while the apartment grows too quiet as the hours pass. You have the schedule of The Beef’s hours ingrained in your mind, tacking on the extra time it takes to close up at night. But all the counting does little to stop the frequent checking of the clock on your phone’s lockscreen.

You were thankful when he worked up the deal with Carmy to split some of the necessary management time at the sandwich shop—if you could call it management time. It would be more truthful to call it “babysitting”, taking into consideration the hotheadedness of the staff. And let's be honest, leaving the restaurant in the hands of Richie Jerimovich? Absolutely not.

But, as much as the Berzatto brothers meant well, this plan didn’t last. It worked for a while, Mikey taking the mornings and helping with opening the store so that around the time that the menu changed, Carmy could come in and work until close. They figured it would be the best way to not overwork themselves but still put a healthy amount of time into their family business.

And then one day it was too busy for Mike to come home. Since then, there hasn’t really been a fix to the original plan. You miss him a lot and definitely wish you could see him more, but you feel so much pride swelling in your chest each time you think of how hard he works for that little brick building. No amount of missing him could outweigh that feeling—or how your face feels as if it might split in two when you sneak into the restaurant and see how happy he is to be there.

Nine times out of ten, you walk in and see his smile brightening the whole room as his infectious laugh fills the air. His eyes would be squinted into thin lines as his head falls back and he clutches his chest for a breath. He always cared about the people and wanted everyone to feel welcome there no matter their background or history. You loved seeing him like this and kept these memories at the front of your mind whenever it got harder to be patient on the long nights alone.

Your phone is in your hand before you can even register it. A habit I need to break, you remind yourself, but your screen shows the time anyway. Quarter after midnight. You place the phone down on the coffee table with a sigh, exchanging it for the book that your friend swore you had to read.

Tucking your finger between the pages and your bookmark, you open up the book and scan the printed words until you can jog your memory of the last thing you read. Once you find your place, you tuck your legs to your chest and lazily tug the blanket down from the back of the couch to cover yourself. It doesn’t take long before your surroundings begin to fade and the words paint a picture in your mind.

You look up from your book at the sound of keys jingling inside the metal deadbolt on your apartment door. What time is it? A second later the door is opening and there stands Mikey. He sighs as he holds onto the doorframe before pressing the toes of one foot to the heel of the other, taking his shoes off before bending down to place them beside the entrance.

When he stands back up you finally get a good look at him in the lamplight. His shoulders are slouched, his whole body a portrait of exhaustion. He’s rubbing his knuckles sleepily at his eyes, setting the keys down on the small table beside him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you call to him as his footsteps gently sound out on the wooden floors. He finally glances over to the couch once he notices you and the smile that stretches over his face is tired, yet genuine.

“Hey, baby,” he whispers back to you. His voice is hoarse, mostly likely due to all the yelling in the chaotic kitchen he’s spent the whole day inside of. It’s almost as if his words are caught in his chest, sounding out deep and warm when he speaks. He makes his way to the couch, leaning over the back of it, and placing a quick peck of his lips on your forehead.

As soon as you feel it, he’s gone, making his way to the kitchen in the next room over. You can immediately tell something is off; Mikey gets quiet after a long day of being the loudest guy in the room, but he’s not usually reserved in his affection towards you.

The blanket you were wrapped up in slowly slides down your chest and onto your lap as you sit up against the arm of the couch. You question whether you should push it, but something in your gut wouldn’t leave it be.

“Mikey? You okay?” you call out towards the kitchen. The sound of him closing cupboards echoes through the space next. He makes his way to the fridge, opening it before leaning inside and scanning the leftovers from the meals you make while he’s out.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he responds monotonously, pulling away with a glass container in his hand. The slightly blue lighting shines across his face, illuminating his features in a cold hue. It looks almost intentional, as if to reflect his mood. “What is this?”

“Baked ziti from last night. I’m here for you, Bear, you know that right?” You don’t miss a beat, purposefully choosing not to fall for his distraction of mentioning the food. You watch as he pauses for a moment, setting the food down on the counter and closing the fridge before walking back towards you. You never want to push him or demand he open up to you, but you also want him to know he can lean on you if need be.

A heavy sigh leaves him as he sinks down onto the cushion beside you, one arm resting along the length of the couch, the other propping his head up in his palm. You can see all the evidence of his tiring day of work now that he’s closer to you: the dark grease stains along the bottom of his blue shirt, the marks under his eyes indicating he didn’t sleep enough, the new bandage wrapped around his thumb. All signs point to a draining, most likely not rewarding, day.

Gently reaching out for his wrist, you pull his larger hand into yours. “What happened here?” He moves with you, turning his palm face up as you let your index finger gently trace over his skin. The bandage is uneven, and you can see the faint maroon marking under the tan color.

“Was a uh,” he begins, sighing as he rubs at his eyes with the knuckles of his free hand. “Was an accident. Cousin called me while I was choppin’ onions and, well,” he gestures to his injured thumb. You feel your features change as he speaks, the words painting a clear picture in your head of him in the kitchen as he gets hurt.

“I’m so sorry, Mikey,” you whisper in the small space between the two of you. Your own fingers drag down the inside of his arm, trailing over scars from accidental fryer burns and playing rough outside with Carmy when he was younger. All the little markings on his skin have little stories behind them, and you cherish the boisterous laughter that comes from him when he tells the tales.

“S’alright, baby, happens all the time,” he attempts to reassure you. The tone surrounding his words falls flat and leaves you with the same weariness in your mind. Glancing up at his face, you see the tired lines under his eyes and the way he stares out at nothing while his mind wanders.

Curling your fingers around him tighter, you bring his hand up to your face and place a gentle kiss right under the bandage. It takes him another moment to react due to the other thoughts trailing around in his mind. When he finally glances over, his eyes are fixed on your lips pressing against him, the small peck sending a wave of warmth through him. You continue staring up at him from under your eyelashes; the sigh that leaves him makes his chest deflate when his gaze locks with yours.

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly, a sad smile on his face.

“Is there anything else I can do to help?” you ask, wanting to try and improve his mood. He twists his back and adjusts himself against the couch.

“Nah, nah, baby, it’s okay. It’ll heal up,” he answers dismissively. It’s clear he didn’t pick up on the other meaning of your question, so you try wording it another way.

“No I didn’t mean the cut, Mikey.” His eyebrows pull together, confusion painted all over his features. “I can see how tired you are,” you continue, watching him sigh again and prepare to defend himself. “I just want to take some of the weight off your shoulders, is all. I’m not gonna say to cut your hours back, I know you can’t do that but…” you find your words trailing off when he reaches up to drag his palm down his face.

“You have to at least take care of yourself,” you whisper the final words as his hand drops to his lap. There’s a silence that lingers over the room and you’re worried you’ve overstepped in suggesting the restaurant being the source of a good portion of his stress.

“You’re right,” he speaks up, and you feel the tension leaving your body almost instantly. “You’re right, I just don’t… think about it?” his tone rises at the end, twisting the sentence into more of a question. His eyes find yours again and you give him a slight nod, wordlessly encouraging him to continue.

“It just… It’s always been the restaurant first, y’know? Like if that goes under then I’ve got nothing left. And then all the things everybody says about me are true.” He finishes the last sentences with an exasperated breath. Your heart sinks at his words, especially after spending one too many family dinners at his mother’s house and hearing how they treat him and his impulsivity. You want to defend him, but choose not to interrupt his venting.

“And nobody in my family knows how to slow down. I mean, shit, look at Carm,” he chuckles dryly as he shakes his head. “Nearly fuckin’ killed himself out in New York. Mom doesn’t have her head screwed on straight, doesn’t know what’s going on half the fuckin’ time. It just—.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, his head hanging low in his hands.

There’s a quick sniffle before he’s raking his fingers through his hair roughly. He sits up and stares down at his fingers, anxiously picking at the skin around his nails. Every fiber in your being screams to reach out to him and comfort him, and this time you listen to your instincts.

“Mikey,” you start, gently placing your hand on his forearm and pulling him towards you. His body falls and you feel his weight instantly pressing into your shoulder. Slumped against you like this, his body heat instantly warms up your side and you melt in turn.

“I know you might not know how to take those breaks, but we can work through it together,” you attempt to calm him. “It might not be easy at first but we can just take it one day at a time, yeah?” You glance down at your shoulder to see him staring up at you with half closed eyes. He slowly blinks before finally registering that you asked him a question.

“I like that plan,” he says eventually. His lips part as a yawn takes over and you smile as his eyes scrunch up while his jaw drops open.

“Oh, poor baby…” you chuckle under your breath. His face rests back in his natural position, but his eyes remain shut. He looks so peaceful like this that it makes your heart warm. Admittedly, it’s been too long since you’ve seen him truly relaxed like this. The last few times must’ve been when you were waking up in the night and happened to catch him asleep.

Stolen glances in the middle of the night aren’t enough, you decide. Adjusting your body on the couch, you angle yourself so your back is against the arm of the couch and your legs extend down the length of the cushions. You pull his body between your legs, guiding his head down to rest on your chest.

“You know none of that shit they say is true… right?” you ask softly as you let your fingers trail down his neck and smoothe down his back. He may not look like it, but Mike is one of the biggest suckers for physical touch—specifically cuddling.

He only hums in response, but still you continue. “The restaurant wasn’t a bad idea, baby. I think it’s sweet you kept something in the family name.” You drag your nails down his broad back softly and feel him sigh deeply, the leftover tension finally leaving his body.

“‘M pretty sure you’re the only one who thinks that,” he mumbles out, not bothering to lift his head from you.

“I swear to god the next time Uncle Lee, or whoever, opens their god damn mouth I’m gonna be the one to throw a fork.” The next thing you feel is Mikey’s laughter shaking you, his rumbly chuckle sounding out in the quiet room. You let yourself smile at the pleasant sound, pressing your fingers into the junction where his neck meets his shoulders. With each push of your fingertips, you try to get rid of those pesky knots of stress that his body is unconsciously clinging on to.

“Seriously though,” you start again, wrapping your arms around his head this time, “we’ll figure it all out. I just want you to rest for now.” You tilt your head down and press your lips to the top of his head. You shut your eyes and try to focus on this moment: the feeling of his body weighing on your torso, his hot breath gently fanning over your arm, his scent relaxing you with each inhale you take.

You let your fingers wander, scratching your nails around his scalp under his hair. There’s a raspy groan that leaves him next and the sound has butterflies suddenly coming to life in your stomach. A giggle slips out from between your lips as you ask, “Feels that good?”

Something bumps the side of your palm as you continue to play with his hair and you reach for it blindly. You try your hardest not to let disappointment wash over you as you stare at the cigarette between your fingers.

“I thought we weren’t doing this anymore, Mikey bear,” you speak in a whisper. A little less than a week ago, Mike decided to stop smoking and using drugs. You knew he could do it but you also knew how big of a step he was taking, so you tried giving as much support as you could offer. He tilts his head up at your voice and looks at you with confusedly. He glances down at the tightly rolled paper in your grasp before shaking his head gently.

“That’s from this morning, baby. Cousin offered it when he clocked in and I didn’t want to say no and have him asking a bunch of fuckin’ questions,” he explains exasperatedly. “But no, I-I didn’t smoke today.” His words are bathed with sincerity even through the tired rasp of his tone.

Your face lights up instantly, pride swelling in your chest once you realize that he kept his promise to you—his promise to himself. You can’t even imagine how difficult it must be to cut everything out like that, but you know he’s going to feel better in the long run because of it.

“I’m so, so proud of you,” you whisper as your fingers brush down his sideburns and begin to smooth out over his beard. “You’re doing so much and I see it.” You worry your words fall flat, but you also know how sometimes all you want is for someone to say that they notice the work you’re doing.

“Thank you.” You believe for a second that you imagined the words due to the barely audible breath that surrounds them. He reaches up to hold your wrist before turning his head to kiss the back of your hand. Sweet moments like this make your heart melt for him and how gentle he can be. There’s not much else to say so the both of you sit in silence, comforted by the presence of the other.

Your nails drag along the short hair that decorates his jaw and you watch his eyes flutter close for the last time. As you wrap your other arm across his chest and pull him closer, you smile at the sound of his soft snores filling the air. The ends of his facial hair tickle your fingertips but you continue gently scratching, wanting to give him a comforting touch to fall into an even deeper sleep.

“Rest up, baby boy,” you whisper as you kiss his head one final time.

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