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elli3luvs · 2 years ago

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falling in love at a coffee shop pt. 4 [ELLIE W]

summary: when your favorite barista turns out to have a girlfriend (an ex? you weren't too sure) you got cold feet and ran

genre: fluff/angst

wc: 2.5k

a/n: lord.... im so sorry this took so long and tbh im not happy with it at all LMFAO im thinking either one or two more parts to this as well! so sorry i haven't been updating recently life has come at me hard! im hoping to get fewer hours at work so i can have some free time bc omfg!

part three

The phone buzzing against the desk was seriously starting to distract you. It had been going off incessantly since you left Ellie's house in a rush, and you just assumed it was her wanting to explain her side of the story. To be honest, you didn't really want to hear it. Your heart felt like it was torn into two earlier this morning. But you should've known, someone that attractive and funny and kind had to come with some sort of baggage. You just didn't expect it to be a whole girlfriend.

Your thumbnail was sitting in between your teeth as you slightly nibbled on it. Dina was laying across from you with worry etched into her features. She was usually amazing with words, never having trouble gossiping or giving advice, but when you came storming in with tears about to fall over your lash line, she couldn't quite find the words to console you. She awkwardly stammered until she realized all you wanted was moral support.

The phone had only been silent for a minute before it started buzzing again. You groan, sitting up to finally grab the stupid device. The buttons on the side were squeezed under your fingers until you could swipe to fully cut off the phone.

Now it couldn't bother you anymore.

Dina sits up, staring at you with pity, "Would it hurt to just hear her out, maybe? Didn't you say you heard her say something about breaking up?"

You gnaw on your bottom lip, "I can't," Dina seems upset at your choice, "Seeing that girl, Cat I think, in front of Ellie was like a slap in the face. She could've been lying about breaking up, Dee. I just don't know." You sigh, crossing your arms to try and soothe yourself a bit.

Dina jumps off of the bed and makes her way to you, a grin spreading over her lips as if she just thought of the best idea. Knowing Dina, you had a feeling about what she was about to say.

"Wanna get trashed?"

The bar was packed even though it was a random Tuesday night. Sounds of college-aged people screaming the song playing filled your ears and chatting with their friends filled your ears. Dina had already shimmied to the bar, ordering a drink for you and for her, before making her way to the dance floor. She was gone with the wind now. You only hoped she would make it back to your dorm without you dragging her home. You decided to keep a low profile and hang by one of the back walls. It was better that way.

You didn't feel like dancing away your inner struggles. Realistically, you needed to talk to Ellie about this. But how could you just call her up when you ignored her for a whole day? A shiver went down your spine when you thought about the conversation that was going to have to take place.

A part of you was still mad at Ellie. You didn't want to have the conversation. But you were going to have to be mature about it one day. You couldn't just ignore her forever.

A voice cut your running thoughts off, "Aren't you?" You turn around to meet Jesse's eyes, "Hey, it is you! How ya' doing?" As kind as ever, he gives you a side hug while enthusiastically greeting you.

"I'm good!" You shout over the music. He motions to the cup in your hand and you nod, "Some sort of tequila."

He grimaces, "Oh, lord. You tryin' to die or somethin'?"

You purse your lips, "Yeah. Something like that."

Jesse pats your shoulder while laughing off your statement, "How did things go with Ellie? Man, she was so excited about it." His hands shoot up to gesture, "That's all she could talk about last shift was how you were gonna go over to her place. She was like a kid in a candy store!"

Your heart shatters. It felt awful to ignore her like that and a part of you wondering if you were acting crazy. Ellie said she could explain, yet, you just left her. Then you turned your phone off as if you couldn't give her the time of day.

Your eyebrows pinch, "It was good... until..." The words die in your throat. Jesse was a good friend of Ellie's and you had come to get pretty acquainted with him but was he a good one to confide in?

His face falls into confusion, "Until?" You see a flash of concern before his face returns to the original confusion.

"Until," You bite the bullet. Now is as good of a time as ever to pour your heart out, "Until her ex or maybe girlfriend? Until whatever she was came over. I totally left Ellie after not giving her a moment to explain. I'm starting to feel like a little bit of a bitch about it..." A fake half-laugh comes out to deflect how truly awful you felt.

Jesse's eyes widen and he sets his drink down, fully turning toward you, "Woah, woah. Was her name Cat?"

You nod and Jesse rubs his hands over his face. The loud techno music silents his hushed curses before he grabs your wrist to drag you out of the bar. The drink in your hand flies out as your legs try to keep up with his wide stride. Your eyes scan the room until you see Dina — who is cheering you on? She looks at you with a thrilled expression before giving you a thumbs up.

Oh my God.

Words of protest spew out of your mouth, trying to get him to just slow down yet Jesse only walks faster. Once you make it to the parking garage he turns back to you. You just hope he ignores the way you are trying to catch your breath.

Jesse starts to fidget with his hands as if he's thinking over what he's about to say.

Your anxiety spikes when he finally asks you what he wanted.

"Is it okay if I take you to Ellie's?"

The ride over to Ellie's house felt as if it took forever. The beating in your chest almost had you sick as you thought of all the possible things that could happen. What if Ellie completely rejected you after this? What if she looked at you with disgust and contempt when she opened her door? What if that Cat girl answers the door instead? You slide down farther into the passenger seat as the anxiety-ridden thoughts became too much.

You were beginning to recognize the area. It didn't make you feel any better — it just meant you were that much closer to having to be mature and talk through what happened. As much as you enjoyed hiding from those complicated feelings, you couldn't do that right now.

Jesse taps his steering wheel while taking in a deep breath, "Look, I know you're nervous and all but... you really shouldn't be," You lift your head to look at him, "She's really into you. I think she will be over the moon that you decided to talk this out face to face."

You purse your lips, "Yeah, but what if she isn't? I left in a completely bitchy way."

Jesse shakes his head, "Trust me, I would've done the same thing if I woke up to Cat's shrill whining."

You were slightly taken aback, "What do you mean by that?"

"I think it's better if Ellie explains that to you."

The air from the vents blows on your face, warming it up. The city lights slowly started to disappear behind you.

"If I know anything about Ellie," His car goes into park. Your head whips to your right and there it was — her house, "She loves giving second chances. Now, go talk this through. I do not wanna deal with a mopey Ellie tomorrow." He jokes around. His words made you feel somewhat better but as you opened the car door and the cool air hits your face, the anxious feeling started to creep up again.

The steps took you a good 30 seconds to get up — stopping every so often to look back at Jesse's car to which he would lift his hands in a supportive motion. Like a father telling their son to, 'go get 'em, tiger!' except he wasn't your dad and you weren't ready to get 'em.

When the large oak door is finally in front of your face, you turn around one last time but Jesse's car was pulling off now. At least he waited until you were fully on the doorstep. It was now or never.

Never sounded pretty good.

Working up courage was never your strong front and god, you wished Dina was beside you to knock on the door but she wasn't. You were going to have to do this. Your hand makes contact with the door producing three heavy raps against the door.

She doesn't answer. She doesn't answer for a while. There isn't even a sign of life behind the door. All you hear is the cars honking faintly where you came from.

You begin to feel hopeless. Deciding to give her one final chance, you knock even louder this time. When you hear rustling on the other side of the door, your stomach lurched.

"Coming..." Her voice sounded solemn. A grimace pulled at your features at the sound. You caused that.

The door swung open, it seemed like she didn't even look into the peephole, and she openly gawked at you for a couple seconds — a dusty pink rose underneath the smattering of freckles on her cheeks. Her socked foot tapped against the wooden floor as she leaned against the door. She finally snapped out of her catatonic state.

"Uh," She voices first, "What are you doing... here?" The words were strangled as they came out.

You take your bottom lip in between your teeth. There was no dancing around this, "Can we talk? About this morning?"

Ellie perks up a bit. There is a look of pain still lingering but she looks more eager to share what actually happened. You were eager to hear it.

"Yeah," She opens the door further, waving you to come in, "Please come in. It's cold."

Stepping inside her house gave you a weird feeling. There was such a great memory inside of here but also one that left you with the worst bitter taste in your mouth. You wanted nothing more than to make more amazing memories in here but you needed to hear what exactly happened this morning.

Ellie guides you to the couch, the couch where you talked for hours, which looked as if she had lived on it for the past 10 hours. There were blankets stacked upon each other while water bottles were littered along the table in front of the couch. You saw the noise cancelling headphones strewn on the table and figured that's why she didn't answer.

You sit down on the edge, rubbing your hands on the front of your thighs. Ellie joins you except she is leaning back on the couch but you can tell with how she's wringing her hands, she's just as nervous.

"I guess the most burning question I have is," Ellie sits up at the sound of your voice. Like she was ready to give you any answer you needed, "Who was she? Why did she seem so hurt by me being here?"

Ellie clears her throat, hands tapping on her leg now as she searches for the right words, "That was Cat, my ex-girlfriend," It would be a lie to say you didn't feel some sort of relief at that, "She is having a hard time coming to terms with that, though. As you saw, she still frequently comes to my house even if I tell her not to." Ellie gives a pained laugh before flicking her eyes over to you to gauge your reaction.

You sigh at that, "How long has it been? Since you broke up?"

"Oh," Ellie scoffs, "A while. It's been around.... 7 months? 7 and a half? Long enough. Jesse calls her a pimple that just won't leave." It suddenly makes sense why Jesse wanted you to come talk to her.

A tension lifts off of your shoulders at that. Ellie wasn't playing you for a fool. She just had a clingy ex. Your hand reaches out to grab hers, which she lets happen without any sort of resistance. Ellie even looks at you while a smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

Guilt settles deep within your chest now. You wanted to smile back but the dreadful emotion was eating at your chest. Ellie notices how your body went from relaxed to tense again. She twists back to you.

"Hey, you've gone rigid on me again," She jokes, her hand soothingly stroking your forearm, "What's wrong? Please, tell me or ask me anything. I'll say it all. I don't wanna keep secrets."

Your eyes flicker over to meet hers, tears brimming your waterline. Ellie shakes her head at the sight as if she's telling you not to cry. But the tears still sit in your lash line, threatening to spill over. Ellie's hand comes up to cup your face while the hand holding your hand squeezes tightly trying to reassure you.

You try to blink away the tears but instead one drips down causing Ellie to coo, "I feel like a bitch, Ellie. Didn't even give you the chance-"

Ellie cuts you off, "I wouldn't have given me a chance to explain either," Her voice wobbles a bit, "I don't blame you, who wants to get woken up by that? I just was scared I, fuck is it too early? Whatever, I was scared I lost you this morning."

You purse your lips at that while you shake your head. Ellie continues, "I know we haven't known each other for a while but I want to continue to see you. I think... I think I really like you." Her face flushes a bright red as she says that. Her palm precipitates a light sheen of sweat while she waits for your response. You can see her mentally preparing for the rejection.

You decided not to keep her waiting. She had done enough waiting today, "I want to continue to see you too."

The beaming expression she gives you clears any guilty emotions you had lingering. Now you just needed to show Ellie how much you liked her.

tags: @ellieismami, @minillie, @dankpunks, @elliesgff, @muthafuckingstargirl, @deafelliewilliams, @pinkazelma, @fairybr3ad, @me-and-your-husband, @intrnetdoll, @kyleeservopoulos, @elliewilliamsmunch, @champagnelovers101, @amelies-a-simp, @gloomychuuu, @s1decha, @ellieapologist3, @wrendermedone, @robinbuckleys-wife, @waywardpiratebird, @parkers myth, @guacala, @pinknightsinmymind

#ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x you #ellie williams scenario #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x reader

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cantchoosejust1 · 2 years ago

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Cardinal Sins - A Different Route

[I’ve decided to actually bite the bullet and write my own smut, Iord knows I’ve driven @gimmethosedaddymilkers mad from all my horny prompts LMAOO - this is a continuation of “Cardinal Sins and Other Desires” except the reader gets to dom Arthur (at first) hehehehehe - while I know the reader is wearing a nun outfit, I will be making them gender neutral, I didn’t use Y/N or any pronouns - sorry if the body description feels awkward, it’s been a while since I’ve written and I only know the perspective of AFAB!reader, so bear with me! I’m not good at adding tags or warnings either, feel free to let me know what I missed - have fun!!]

taglist stolen from the original post lmao: @mrsarthurmorgan7 @kieropal @photo1030 @pcotarelo @6kaja9

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: sex, priest kink, bondage by rosary, edging-ish, descriptions of demons, this shit is freak nasty in my opinion so just be cautious

This fic is 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You roll your eyes but your hand finds its way to his thighs, patting along the robe in an attempt to find said matches

Of course he has matches on him, he can’t go more than an hour or two without a smoke.

“Mhmm…careful, you’re gonna hit somethin’ else while you’re down there.”

“Why the hell are you so horny right now, I’m not even wearing anything revealing-”

“Maybe I’ve been possessed, need some holy water…”

“Arthur please, can we find the money?”

“I’m sure we can, but I’m sure I’d be a lot more focused after…”

“Alright, thats it-” you growled. Twisting the rosary in your hand, you harshly place it around Arthur’s wrists and grip them together, startling him. With quick steps and momentum, you push his body backwards until his back hits a wall. Arthur grunts upon impact, a random object clattering to the ground.

As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you try to focus on Arthur’s face and mutter, “Keep it in your pants Father, or I’ll have to discipline you later.”

You huff in frustration, the heat blowing across Arthur’s face. Wanting to play along with his silly game, you brought your lips to the exposed skin of his neck. Where you going to admit this was a secret fantasy of yours too? Hell no. Wetting your tongue, you lick beneath his jaw and finish off by flicking his ear lobe once. You laughed inwardly at the idea of Arthur’s so called “demon” having been transferred to your body. The hairs of his sideburns tickled your cheek as you placed your lips tentatively close to his ear.

“Then again, maybe I should exorcise that demon out of you before it corrupts your poor soul. Would you like that, Father Morgan?”

Your vision was able to focus in the darkness, giving you the chance to semi-clearly see Arthur’s face. His eyes wide open, his lips quivering and taking quick shaky breaths, his body shivers harshly as he peers into your lust filled glare. After a few seconds, you press his hands onto his chest near his heart, which is beating wildly. He whimpers as the rosary starts to cut into his skin, but he ignores it as he’s only able to focus on the feeling of your knee pushed between his legs.

As he’s distracted and unable - or rather not daring - to move, your free hand wanders down, exploring his body.

Arthur knew better to not act this way, especially in a church. But in this moment he didn’t give a damn, not with the way your hand quickly brushed against his hip and thigh “searching” for his matches. And he knew this was exciting you too with the way you purposely brush against his clothed heat, eliciting a high pitched sigh from his throat.

You glanced up, your eyes hooded, pupils dilating, watching Arthur slowly unravel. He looks at you with hazy eyes, taking deep breaths. Squeezing his right thigh once, you slowly drag the back of your fingers upwards, deliberately placing more pressure on his erection. Arthur couldn’t stop the moan from escaping his lips, his voice reverberating against the walls.

The basement door opens. “Hello?”

In a second, you shot up and placed your hand over Arthur’s mouth, trying not to slap him by accident. You hold your body against his and look into his eyes to communicate a silent warning.

“If anybody is down there, the church is closed!” the voice yells, taking a second to listen for any noises. The person hummed in confusion, “Must’ve been my imagination then.”

The door slams shut and footsteps recede, but you wait a few more seconds to be absolutely sure the person has left. Huffing, you back away from Arthur to give yourselves some breathing room, the stress of almost getting caught making your heart thrum with worry and excitement.

Arthur takes his time to control his panting, goosebumps fluttering across his body at the chill from losing your heat. His head perks up at the sound of you shaking his matches. You smirk, “Found them.”

The mission didn’t take long after that steamy ordeal. The object that conveniently fell on the floor was a lantern, which you gladly used Arthur’s matches to light. As he gained his composure back, Arthur removed the rosary from his wrists - seeing in the dim light some welts forming on his delicate skin - untangling it and placing it in his pocket.

Wasting no more time, you were both able to locate the money and figured out a plan of escape that didn’t involve going back up the stairs, assuming the person locked it behind them. By then, it had gone dark, the sun hidden away to allow the moon to shine its lovely light and the stars to shimmer against the dark sky. The sounds of your running footsteps hitting the stone road were covered by the noise of a nearby rowdy bar and its even rowdier patrons. You and Arthur were able to reach your horses without worry, bags of money hidden beneath clothes and stuffed quickly into empty saddle bags; whatever money didn’t fit was placed into a separate bag that you carried on hand, making sure to check for any rips or tears as not to risk losing any money and potentially upsetting Dutch.

Arthur took the lead on the way back to camp, avoiding any main roads, trying to get out as fast as possible. When he figured y’all were a few decent miles away did he spur his horse forward, startling you into an unexpected race. You began laughing at the thrill of it all, Arthur joining in with a big belly laugh. As you began nearing camp, Arthur slowed down his horse to a trot, allowing the chance to catch a quick breath.

“I can’t believe we managed to do that,” he said, his smile reaching his ears, hair whipped from the wind, twisting every which way (like he even cared).

You snorted, “I told you, confidence is important when it comes to missions like these.” You gave a mad huff and smacked his left thigh, making Arthur yelp in pain and surprise. “We could’ve been done sooner if you didn’t get riled up! My skin ain’t showing and yet you’re over here acting like a bitch in heat.”

“Oh come on, darlin’, could you really blame me?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, I’ll admit it was bad timing. I’m sorry,” he said, grabbing your right hand to place a delicate kiss on your knuckles. “I’m sorry… that you look so fine in that get up-”

You yanked your hand away, yelling, “Arthur Morgan!!”

He laughed once more, urging his horse to pick up more speed as he neared the path heading into camp. He could hear the crackle of the fire and smell the burning wood, the sound of a bottle being opened spurred him to go a tad bit faster. Nearing the stables, Arthur swiftly greeted Charles and jumped off his horse to head over to the crate holding said bottles. Grabbing one by the neck, he made his way over to an empty table and popped the bottle open. He found himself feeling so thirsty, but the idea of water didn’t appeal to him; rather the sensation of his nostrils burning, tasting the bitter alcohol coat his tongue as it ran down his throat.

Before meeting you, alcohol was a comforting friend to Arthur, one he could always lean on for any kind of situation, bad or good. Eventually, having now formed a strong bond with you, he began to drink more socially. Except for the times he goes back to his old friend to help him forget, like he’s doing now. He ignored the sounds of everyone around him, letting himself focus on the golden liquid, trying to push the mission’s events to the back of his mind. But the feeling of your hands on his body haven’t left, making him hungry, just not for food.

As he went to take another gulp, Dutch patted him on the back and stole the bottle from Arthur’s hand.

“Easy there, son, don’t go celebrating just yet.” Arthur almost grabbed the bottle back, but Dutch took it farther from reach, waiting for a response, to know if his wondrous plan had blessed him with riches.

Arthur growled, abruptly standing to go around Dutch, back toward the stables. His shaking hands struggled to grab the bags filled with money, his annoyance puffing out in smoke through his nostrils. You came up next to him and helped to remove the bag, giving Arthur the chance to turn back around and forcefully slam the money on the table. Dutch stared in awe as some bills spilled out, a few coins rolling out before settling on the table. He almost started yelling in excitement before he saw your form coming toward him with the other bags of money, letting out a grunt as they slipped off your shoulder and landed on the table with a thud.

“This better be enough to last us a while ‘cause I don’t feel like dressing up again, Dutch,” you said. Placing your hands on your lower back, you pushed your spine forward until you heard a crack, letting out a satisfied sigh.

“This- hehe..” - he grabbed a couple wads of cash - “is more than enough. Thank you, both of you! HAHA, can you believe it, Hosea?!”

Dutch ran off to find said man, leaving you to take a seat beside Arthur, who has long since finished his liquor and just stared at the money, absentmindedly.

“Hey,” you whispered. Arthur glanced up.

“You’re not still thinking about earlier, are you?” Cocking an eyebrow, you failed at suppressing a smile from forming, the corner of your lip curling at the thought of seeing Arthur look upon you as if you were his god, so defenseless beneath your touch.

Arthur felt his cheeks begin to burn, he clenched his teeth and turned his head away from you to stare at the ground. He made no effort in trying to respond, the feelings from earlier starting to creep into his nerves, his cock twitching at the memory of feeling your hand pressed against it. You watched his shoulders shudder and took that as a ‘yes.’ You stood from the table, placing your middle finger on Arthur’s right shoulder and dragged your nail slowly to the left, watching as his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck straightened out.

Leaning down to Arthur’s left ear, continuing to whisper, “My offer still stands, Father Morgan. I’d love nothing more than to fuck that demon out of your poor, aching body.”

You lick the shell of his ear, scratching his shoulder before removing yourself and walking off to your tent, once again leaving Arthur cold. And horny.

Arthur knew better than to keep drinking, if he was going to experience this pleasure with you, he wanted to do it (relatively) sober. He’s already drunk with lust, maybe even love, but that’s a topic he’d rather discuss with his head and not the raging boner crowding his already tight pants.

Luckily, everybody in camp was too focused on the win, already thanking and congratulating Arthur on the glorious bounty. They all celebrated by drinking and dancing around the formed bonfire, their throats sore with the amount of alcohol being consumed and their loud singing. Javier wasted no time in strumming his already tuned guitar and led them all into a song about love and riches, making sure to wink at Arthur specifically as he sang the verse about love.

Knowing Javier saw their interaction, Arthur looked away in embarrassment, dreading the idea of hearing Javier’s constant teasing. About how Arthur is wrapped around your finger, a tough cowboy now whipped by someone who outwardly looked weaker than him. But that’s what Arthur loved about you; behind your seemingly quiet demeanor was a smart, quick witted, stubborn yet loyal person Arthur was proud to call "his." He knew you both loved each other equally, yet he couldn’t bring himself to the idea of being this vulnerable with you!

…But like hell was he gonna lose this chance. He regrets a lot of things in his life, and this interaction will not be one of them. Having waited long enough to where everyone was too drunk to notice him, he slipped away from the table and made quick strides toward your tent, sending a wink back to Javier on his way over. He was lucky your tent was farthest from the bonfire because he knew this was going to get loud and messy.

Standing a few feet away from your tent, Arthur reached into his pocket and dug around to pull out your rosary. He clenched it around his right hand, stepping once… twice… inching closer to the flap of your sacred space.

“Have you come to confess your sins?” you said.

Arthur sucked in a breath, his heart accelerated when hearing your sultry voice. The idea of touching your skin sent the blood rushing from one head to another, the flaming passion igniting in his body gave him the final push to go through your tent.

Ohhh…. Shit.

There you were, sitting on your knees upon your bed, stripped free of the nun costume. The soft blue glow of the moon peeking in through the cracks of your tent being the only thing covering your bare skin. With one more shaky step forward, Arthur fell upon his knees, a priest before his god. He grasped the rosary even tighter, the cross pressing deep into his palm. Without clear direction on your part, Arthur wrapped his wrists between the beads. Clasping his hands together so tightly they turned white, he offered them to you.

“Please… forgive me, for I have sinned,” he panted, voice dropping an octave on the last word. Licking his lips and swallowing, he said, “It has been a few weeks since my last... confession.”

Placing your hands on your knees, you opened your legs a bit and leaned an inch further, watching as Arthur’s eyes bounced from your sex to your perked nipples before landing on your pouty lips. He swore the shadow behind your head was painted with the biggest devil horns imaginable.

“I know of your sins, Father Morgan,” you said. He inhaled quickly at the sound of his name, staring at you wide eyed. “And no amount of prayer will absolve you.”

Arthur hung his head low, choking back the apology he was going to say for his earlier actions in the church basement.

“However-”

“Yes?!” he said briskly. The whiplash he got from lifting his head too fast was painful, but he chose to ignore it, opting to focus on your wicked smile.

You let out a giggle, “While, I am a firm believer that actions speak more volume than words ever could--”

You lift yourself off your legs and plant both feet on the floor, sitting comfortably on the cot. Arthur stared as you spread your thighs apart to show yourself fully before him, your sex leaking with arousal. You place your dominant hand in front of you, slightly blocking the view to show him your index finger beckoning him. Without question, Arthur moved swiftly but clumsily to you, abruptly stopping when you placed your palm on his sweaty forehead.

The sigh he let out as you pet the top of his head changed to a groan as you suddenly grasp the hairs atop his crown. You push his head back to make him look at you, saying, “You get one chance to repent. Make it count, Father, or your soul will suffer until your next confession. Do I make myself clear?”

He nods diligently, his voice a whisper among his heavy breathing. “Yes!… Yes, yes, I promise.”

With his final consent, you push his head forward, moaning as he makes first contact with your sex. His mouth was wet, saliva collecting on his tongue as he licked from bottom to top, making sure to focus his movements on the spots he knows you’re most sensitive.

“Oooohh~ ffuuck, yes Arthur!” you gasp. “Good boy, good- AH!” One lick upon a special spot made you push his face closer.

He repeatedly ran his tongue over the same spot, studying your facial expressions painted in ecstasy. The way your eyes were tightly closed as you focused on the pleasure he gave you, your mouth gaping open, the air making it dry.

“SHHIIIT-- just like that! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!!” you chanted, head swung back, using the arm behind you as an anchor to prevent yourself from falling backwards.

By now, you threw your legs over Arthur’s shoulders, digging your heels on his back, feeling your toes curl and uncurl every other second. A wave of pleasure bloomed from your sex and spread across every nerve in your body, signaling the arrival of your climax. You let go of Arthur’s hair to plant it behind you for more balance, trusting him to finish his prayer. He knew you were getting closer too, hearing the way you took bigger breaths in anticipation, your nails scratching the covers. Keeping the same pace, he continued to drink your arousal like a man thirsty for water. His erection throbbed at the sounds of him devouring you; slurping, sucking, lapping and moaning like a madman.

“Ar-- thur, ’m gonna… cum” you wheezed. You tried to swallow but your mouth was painfully dry. “I’m-- ahh… really close. Please, please don’t stop!”

As the pleasure was starting to become painful, your first instinct was to close your legs, even if Arthur was still between them. Feeling your thighs closing in on Arthur’s face caused him to moan, the vibrations being the final strike in making you cum.

All at once, your body was hit with the force of a powerful orgasm. Goosebumps extend up from one arm and across your chest, making your nipples even harder, then down the other arm; starting at the base of your neck gliding to the bottom of your spine and up your tightening abdomen, and finally, coursing through your legs, making your toes unfurl. You felt your head fog up with a misty cloud of joy and desire. Your sex pulsed, your arousal like a flowing waterfall, cascading water into Arthur’s awaiting lips, him swallowing everything with utmost desperation and gratitude. Softly removing himself from you with a small pop to prevent any overstimulation. He started licking up anything that fell from his mouth, then left a few delicate kisses onto your left inner thigh, his little ‘thank you’.

Regaining your composure, you peered down at Arthur, him resting his weary head on your thigh and gazing up at you with a hint of a smile. You put your dominant hand back onto his head, petting and fixing any misplaced hairs back onto his scalp.

“Very good, Arthur.” You caressed his cheekbone with your thumb, using your other fingers to scratch against the side of his head. “For your dedication, I will reward you. But.. you’ll have to earn it.”

Pinching his chin, you force his head up. “I’m going to bring you to the peak of ecstasy three times,” - you hold up the same number of fingers - “But, you’re not allowed to release until I tell you.”

He became distressed: eyes darting between yours, eyebrows creasing, his smile turning into a frown. As much as it pained him to wait longer, if it meant he can unload inside you, he’ll be patient. Just this once.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes I do,” he answers.

You hum in approval. “Lay your ass on this bed, Big Boy.”

If there really was a god, Arthur thanked it for blessing him with your presence in his life. He was able to last until the third round, almost losing his composure on the second. His head was spinning in a heavy fog of desire, whining with every exhale, merely seconds away from tapping out. His body was beginning to tire out because of the way he tensed his muscles trying to stop himself from cumming too soon, his shoulders and biceps burning as he held his tied hands over his face.

“Look at you, my love,” you say, running your hands over his pecs, teasing his nipple between your fingertips. He let out another whine as he bit his lower lip, wondering how much longer he must endure this.

What a sight he was to behold: his arms flexing above his head, elbows pressed together to hide his expressions from your sinful stare; his face, neck, ears, and collarbone blushing a vibrant shade of red; his lips swollen from the rough way you kissed him when he got too loud; his chest rising with every inhale, his stomach pushing out with every exhale; his cock - wet with your spit and his precum - stood at your command, much to your surprise, figuring at this point he’d have gone soft, but grateful he hasn’t; his legs were extended, feet firmly planted on the cot, quivering beside your hips, his knees bumping slightly against your waist.

Starting at his ankles, you caressed your palms up the back of his calves, then slowly brought them down his thighs. He tensed upon feeling your fingers brush against his V-lines.

“You’re almost done, I promise.” Squishing the flesh of his hips, you raise your dominant hand a good distance away before delivering a harsh slap to Arthur’s ass. Both of you moan in sync, his speaks of pain, yours speaks of adoration.

“Oh, how I love to worship you like this!” Bringing your head lower, you kiss the inside of his right knee. “You are my favorite thing to walk among this Earth,” you say, proceeding to move your lips further down his leg.

Giving one final kiss to his heavy balls and another to his perineum, his body jolting with each one.

“Tell you what. Since you’ve been good thus far,” he parts his elbows to look at you clearly, “I’ll let you cum inside me now, okay?”

Arthur sighs in relief. “OH! Oh…th- thank you, oh my god--”

“Don’t thank me jus' yet, Pretty Boy.” Leaning forward, you grab the rosary and untie his wrists, bunching it together and haphazardly throw it over your shoulder to where you think your nun costume went, wishing to preserve it for future use.

He laid there in shock, not knowing what to do now that you released him. Moving his arms down from the uncomfortable position, he rolled his shoulders to relieve the ache before settling his arms at his sides. You smack the side of his right thigh, gaining his attention.

“How ‘bout it cowboy? You want me to ride you… or do you wanna take the reigns and fuck the demon out of me?” You grip his shaking knees, holding them in place to stare at his leaking cock, then bring your eyes back up to look at him.

“Tell me your desires, Father Morgan.”

Dumbfounded, he asked, “I… I get to decide?”

How cute, I left him speechless. You exhaled a laugh, caressing the top of his thighs, “Yes, my love. Ravish me with your cock, I need it. Fuck me Father Morgan, I beg of you!”

Collecting his bearings and gaining newfound energy, Arthur pounced. He startled you with how quick he shot up, his strong arms opened wide to show his impressive wingspan. In an instant, he caged you in his grasp, lips embracing in a fiery kiss. When you gasped for air, he stuck his tongue inside, wishing to push his love further into your mouth. The sounds of both your moans, cries and whimpers created a symphony, the song of worship.

He brought a hand to the back of your head, protecting it as he shifted your bodies, and you instinctively enveloped his torso between your legs. Wrapping his other arm around your waist, he lifted you with ease to place your back against the cot as cautiously as he could, kissing the middle of your collarbone before lifting himself off you. He felt like the luckiest man on this planet, an angel in the flesh! His precious angel, his soul, his world.

There you rested, arms thrown beside you, showing Arthur you were surrendering yourself to him.

Arthur kept staring at you beneath him, his hands on either side of your head, taking his time to adore every single beautiful feature on your face.

The way your lashes curtained over your eyes, the curve of your delicate nose, your luscious lips so warm and inviting, your cheeks painted with your years of life - freckles, dimples, beauty marks, oh my!

He felt your legs move along his ribs, briefly taking him out of his thoughts, seeing the way you cocked an eyebrow at him in confusion - the demon was growing impatient. And so was he. Hooking his elbows beneath your knees, he forcefully pushed your legs to your chest leaving your feet dangling in the air near his shoulders; the perfect position for him to see your warm, wet, inviting hole. Oh, he was going to ruin you.

He lifted his right hand to his mouth, sticking his ring and middle finger inside to coat them with as much spit as he could. Satisfied with the amount, he took them out and abruptly pressed them to your entrance. With a bit of resistance from the insertion, you moaned as he was able to insert his fingers with ease the rest of the way in.

“So needy,” he groaned.

“Only for you, Big Boy,” you said.

He moaned as you squeezed his fingers, “Don’t go saying that, darlin’.”

“Well why not? It’s true. You drive me wild, Father Morgan.”

“No more of that! I only wanna hear you scream my name by the end of this. I ain’t no saint, and you sure as hell ain’t one too,” he answered briskly, curling his fingers on your soft walls. You cried at the sudden wave of pleasure, driving your heels into his shoulders.

“OOH~ I will, I will, I swear! Jus'… please, Arthur, just fuck me!” you begged, heat starting to flood your face.

Swiftly removing his fingers, he prodded your entrance with his tip, running it up and down, slowly teasing you. He wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine, however, his plan backfired when he pressed too far in and the head of his cock breached inside. The feel of finally getting what he wanted made him almost collapse on top of you. He shivered and gripped the sheets tightly.

Collecting himself, he closed his eyes and continued to push himself deeper, lubricated by his own spit - he was gonna lose his mind!

When he was fully sheathed inside, you squeezed his cock once, feeling his veins prod against your walls, trying to memorize everything. He whined at the sensation, tears beginning to form beneath his closed eyelids. If there was one moment he would want to relive for the rest of his life, it would be between first meeting you and this very instant.

Arthur opened his eyes, a few tears escaped to land on your cheeks, one hitting your top lip. Maintaining eye contact with him, you stick your tongue out and licked it up, the salty flavor tickling your taste buds.

“Mmmm…” you moaned.

He snapped. He slotted his right hand against your throat, using his left to grasp the meat of your thigh. Pulling out before slamming his cock back in, his balls slapping your ass lewdly.

You whined at the harsh movement, relishing in the look on Arthur’s face as he unleashed his own demon. He held a stern gaze and an angry scowl, while you held a mischievous glint and a devious smile. Two horny hellspawns, locked in a duel to see who gets to make the other cum first.

As his hips set about a hard but steady pace, Arthur moved his fingers along the side of your neck to find your pulse. He soon made contact with it, feeling the fast beat of your heart on his fingertips, he squeezed his hand with enough force to cut your airflow. Loving the way your eyes bulged for a second, feeling you swallow hard against his palm. He enjoyed letting you control him from time to time, but he’ll never get over the feeling of your body writhing from the pleasure he gives you.

He removed his hand from your neck, moving it down to one of your nipples, pinching it and rolling it for what felt like forever to you before focusing his attention on the other one.

While he was preoccupied with you perky nipples and the filthy sounds coming out of your mouth, you dropped your sight to where your bodies connected. Hypnotized by the way he fit inside you, so perfectly connected. There was no way you would be able to walk tomorrow. With nowhere else to grab, you bring your hands to the flesh between your thighs and ass, squishing it for some sense of stability.

Arthur refocused on your face, having his view be blocked by your arms. With no other choice, he hooked the free hand beneath your other knee, keeping you in place.

“Look at me,” he growled. His voice reverberated against your ears, your sex pulsed in arousal at hearing his demanding tone.

“Fucking LOOK at me, darlin’, you know I don’t like to repeat myself.” You do as you’re told, gasping for air as you sense your climax slowly approaching.

“You close, ain’tcha? Mmm, I can feel it,” he said.

Nodding, you say, “Please, Arthur! C- cum with me…! I want us to cum together!”

“Nngh!” he grunts. “You keep… squeezing me like that, I’m gonna-- FUCK! I’ll cum soon.”

“Yes, yes! Give it to me, I wanna be dripping with your semen!!” Your moans grew higher in pitch, the muscles in your thighs tightening at the feel of your orgasm rapidly approaching.

Both of you were gasping, hearts beating as one, the smell of sex permeating the air in a dense fog of filthy love.

Wanting to savor this special moment, Arthur took his hands in yours, making sure to interlock fingers before setting them on either side of your head. He pushed his body forward, your legs pressed against his chest in a painful way, ignored by the amount of pleasure building.

The pace Arthur set combined with the forced mating press allowed you to experience his cock in the most delicious way. Free to feel every vein and ridge; his cock leaking so much precum he was able to effortlessly slip in and out without issue; overall an impressive girth, giving you a satisfying stretch.

All the love you had for him was projected into your eyes, Arthur easily recognized it because he looked at you that way every single day, even in his dreams.

“I love you,” he whispered, inches away from your face.

Happy tears began to form in your eyes, a shy smile forming. “I love you more.”

As soon as he reached down to share a kiss, your orgasms exploded simultaneously, moans harmonizing with the loud squelch between your bodies.

Arthur removed his lips from yours, tongues connected by a line of spit. Taking his hands from yours, he lifted himself up and brought your legs to rest at his hips. He watched you get comfortable before collapsing from exhaustion, making you grunt at the force of his body weight. He kissed along your left shoulder and settled his cheek against it, proceeding to lace one hand back to yours and snaking the other arm below your body, imprisoning you with his massive frame. You sighed with content, head still reeling and feeling your eyelids become heavy.

“Arthur?”

“Mmm?”

“Can you get off me?”

He lightly shook his head ‘no.’

The moonlight invaded your vision as it peered into your tent, painting the side of Arthur’s tired face, sculpting his chiseled back with cool lights and dark shadows. You watched his torso rise and fall with each deep breath, the noises of the night mixing with his huffs, the little critters chirping in the wind.

You laughed, out of breath. “Arthur?”

“...mmm?”

“I love you,” you whisper against his temple, placing a soft kiss on his heated skin, the taste of his sweat invading your lips.

“...’ove you… mo’...” he sighed. With the sound of your heart beating in his ear, the rhythm of your breathing matching his, Arthur succumbed to sleep.

Nothing but silence is heard for the next three minutes, until Arthur's soft snores fill the air. Lost in thought, you began to brush his hair with your right hand, the soft locks flowing between each finger. You tried your best to pepper as many kisses to his face as you could, but you weren't able to reach much, only his temple and forehead.

A thought crossed your mind, and you glanced at the chest placed at the foot of your bed. Inside, there was a pistol you owned long before you joined the gang, gifted to you by your great aunt before she passed away. You were the closest thing she considered a child - since either she was unable to carry or simply chose not to have any, you didn’t know - so she told you to give the pistol to the person you intended to marry, in place of a ring. At that time, you thought it silly since you believed in the magic of a ring, that soon changed when you met Arthur.

Having now been in the gang for a few years, you knew most of his past as he gave you little information at his own time. The days dragged on and you soon found yourself falling in love with the cowboy, going on missions together more often, inside jokes and food shared between each other. Until one mission separated the two of you, pulling Arthur to find a random target or whatever, you weren't given much information, which made worrying for his return even worse. A week prior to his return, Arthur had sent you a three-page letter reminiscing of your friendship, how worn out he was, and a shared moment you both had where you almost kissed at the river, having been interrupted by Uncle and his problems. At the very end he proclaimed his love for you, rereading it over and over again with tears in your eyes, the same letter tucked in the holster of the gun. The moment you spotted his figure in the distance walking beside his horse, you took off running and met him halfway, colliding with him in a hug stronger than a python. Thankfully he was unharmed - apart from you knocking the wind out of him - so you had no issues smooching his whole face, pulling apart for a second to tell him that you loved him too, and finishing with a passionate kiss to his lips, finally becoming a couple.

With each passing day since then, you wondered if there will ever be a chance to ask him! Ask him to be your spouse, your lover for the rest of your lives. As long as it was by his side, you didn't care where you'll end up. Closing your eyes, you dreamt of this new life, praying he'll say yes, hoping you'll be able to live a calm life far from the one you were living.

Unbeknownst to you, Arthur smiled against your skin, thinking about the ring he has tucked away in his own chest, dreaming of the same future.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 #arthur morgan priest #arthur morgan sub #arthur morgan dom #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfiction

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offtheshelftru-ism · 1 year ago

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I used to be proud of being an individual.

In some ways I still am.

You will not find many people like me.

Though I’m like so many people here on earth and like our ancestors before us.

I just seen a YSL ad on yt where the IT guy or somethin in the most practiced “cool” voice ever talkin bout, “the boldest thing i could ever do is be me…”

No it is fucking not.

The boldest thing you can do is awaken to who tf you really are. WE really are. And OVERstand it’s WE, and ALWAYS been WE and WILL always BE we.

We are what we chose to be.

That is apparent with the new sex/gender labeling society has adopted.

Also aparent in many religions as Buddhism with,

“You are what you think.”

Many of us NOT thinking.

Many of us distract ourselves to the point where we don’t HAVE to think.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately..

Change is inevitable.

Some might say adaption is what humans are best at.

What if the change at ain’t for the good tho?

Globally we’re closer to a one world government more now than ever before.

All the pieces are in place for a global event that shocks us to the core.

These large scale traumatic events are happening at a more consistent pace.

Unchecked and ignored traumas are escalating division and hatred and we prolly more self aware than we’ve ever been as a people.

Except for maybe advanced civilizations before us that were more in tune with the infinite..

The “leaders” of the “free world” want us as outta tune as they can get us.

Remember that when they start promoting shit you thought you wanted to hear.

Confusion and fear is their greatest weapons and with that knowledge we can best prepare ourselves and better read the battlefield whether that’s on the streets, online, in another country or in our minds, souls and bodies.

These so called “woke” mfs following the algorithm exposing themselves rn with the conflict in the Middle East.

We not woke no more. We mad. A lot of mfs got woken up abruptly by the quarantine and Covid 19.

Started seeing shit for what it really is with Trump.

Now with Biden as if shit has changed.

Its fuckin 2K.

It’s been the same damn game for I don’t know HOW long.

We need a reprogramming.

I sit playin PlayStation tryna escape the thoughts with moments of insight like you know you lost this ain’t the change I need rn so confused on how do I find comfort in focusing on some shit that means nothing when things mean so much to me?

Puffin on this tree to feel different.

KNOWING that TO SEE CHANGE in this realm that I GOTTA BE IT…

#share your thoughts?#comment below #✊✊🏻✊🏼✊🏽✊🏾✊🏿#if you agree #words

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lostacelonnie · 1 year ago

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Cant believe a solution like that has existed for so long they make pills of all sorts these days thats wild. Glad they're helpful for you really. Just standing in the ocean sometimes is such an experience i love it. Oh gosh that must be some kind of interesting. I had a sub once who was like. One of the few teachers to ever pronounce my last name right without help because her husband or herself was german. Or somethin like that. Shocked me at the time. Oh that'll be fun sometimes its neat to like. Go back to a place & see whats the same & whats changed since you were there. I wanna visit spain so much just uh. Probably in a less hot time of year. I like jarilo-vi so far only just hit level 15 so i can continue story. Didnt get bronya off my intro pulls got clara instead but i will someday. Is cocolia in honkai too? Yeah i agree this feels like they fixed genshin in a different game but im alright with that. Yeehaw more sleep. Ive been getting more now that i dont have to be at work at like 6 every day too. I would love to hear about this fire

right like!!!! waow. i ❤ you modern medicine i ❤ you medication. and for REAL !! i dont do it a lot and then i suddenly remember how nice it is. YEAH it took a while for me to actually be Able To Communicate with all of them but yknow it gets much easier when youre literally forced to do it to understand anything. but i have to say my spoken spanish is waaaaay worse than what i understand. oh well. god i feel that esp recently since ive been going outside of poland recently..... not a SINGLE non polish person can say my last name right. but i dont blame them shdfjgkjskf polish is a hellish language for foreigners. and yeah im looking forward to it honestly!! esp since ill actually get to interact with ppl more this time around. exciting! yes id recommend that you dont go in spring or summer bc not only is it hot theres also a looooot of tourists. tho i heard the weather isnt as bad in the northern part. and ah nice!! im a big grinder and hit lvl50 yesterday [not doing trial of the equilibrium yet tho..... Scared] but have fun!!! oh i main clara and shes actually SO good oh my god. actual killing machine esp in simulated universe with elation blessings [i run her with march + tingyun + bailu btw] so i totally rec you invest in her. good luck in your bronya acquiring quest btw o7 im also trying to do it but i dont really pull on standard outside of free pulls so its gonna. take a While. and yes she is!!!!! god frfr but i dont care about genshin that much so im not even mad. and ah thats nice!! oh the fire god that was. Hm. basically i was chilling as one does and an irl friend was like "my guy What. is happening at your house" and before that there was this reaaaaaaaally loud firetruck siren [that i decided to completely ignore] so i went outside bc that friend came over and there were?? firemen with a giant fan blowing out smoke out of one of the stairwells in my block of flats?? and basically it turns out some guy set something in the basement on fire and since i live in a block from the Communism Times the ventilation system sucks so the whole block smelled like smoke. also there was a dumpster fire nearby like an hour later. so thats fun! luckily nothing serious happened in either cases bc they were both noticed quickly but its still. Interesting.

#average day in poland. I Guess #also im going to photo camp till the 8th and im gonna be Completely Offline so. talk to you in two weeks i suppose o7 #pen pals

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transmandrake · 3 years ago

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This is a wierd one and I'm only typing it cuz I feel like complaining and rambling today (see username) but

(Big ramble about pokemon games and other similar games)

Man, Pokemon being kinda not good wouldn't hurt so much if not for the fact that like... there's hardly anything else that matches it. And if it does, it hasn't gotten an installment in decades.

The only things that come even slightly close are digimon (which has a completely different tone, style, and, is only a mon game like 25% of the time) and Yokai Watch (which imo is like. Not really the same kind of game. I also hate its designs but thats neither here nor there) and even then those two kind of fizzle out and in and out. Yokai Watch hasn't even been localised for a good while I'm pretty sure.

Now I know, I know, imaginary straw man I'm directing my words towards, there are some great indie mon games I should try and-

I've played them. All of them.

Every last one. If I haven't I either haven't heard of it (extremely rare) don't have the money (Nexomon, Monster Crown) or access, or it hasn't come out yet (Coromon, That one open access one that is real time Or I guess I just know it's not good I mean most mobile ones are just poke clones but with worse designs and microtransactions.

Terra monsters. SMT. Dragon Quest Monsters. Temtem. Spectrobes. Fossil Fighters. Monster Sanctuary. Minimon. Mystic Guardians. MH Stories. Too many mobile ones that are usually just poke clones or scummy money suckers.

And like... 75% of them are dead and not coming back. It is a goddamn drought out there I tell you.

The thing that really gets me about mon games is that it's so small, it doesn't even really have a genre. Steam calls 'em 'creature collectors' and has stuff like my singing monsters and rune factory, which, yeah you collect monsters and they might be part of your team, but its not monster-to-monster combat. I'm not limiting stuff even by being turn based. I call em 'monster catching games' or jus. Mon games. And sure you can find lists of similar games but like, its so small!!! Imagine if you could name every single rpg within a twitter post or two!

And why??? I just don't understand, THERE ARE MORE POKEMON FAN GAMES THAN THERE ARE MONSTER CATCHING GAMES!!! (And YES, I've already played a ton of them. I am a slut for mon games, please, give them to meeeeee)

And even then of the games that do something different significantly? Even sparser. God if you haven't played Fossil Fighters GO PLAY FOSSIL FIGHTERS IT IS SO ORIGINAL AND IT HAS DINOSAURS

Like what is the deal??? Its not like theyre mmos or open world games that would take entire teams to make, minimon was made by one dude. Does just no one want to? Why? Pokemon has one of the most passionate fanbases around, in many ways, are people really that dedicated that they dont play anything else or want to make their own thing? Even when they do its still jus fan games! I don't get it. But I dont really understand fan stuff in the first place, its jus not my thing, even if i love peoples incredible passion, I also secretly and probably rudely weep at what people could accomplish if they just did something original and not doomed to be C&D'd if its too good.

Basically I'm learning to code out of spite because my god if no ones gonna do it I will. But in like a decade I have too many projects to do lol.

I'm not really all that loyal to pokemon but it really hurts when it goofs up because thats like, 90% of the genre. Its so large it swallows everything else and dooms it to obscurity. It feels like its the only option. I can only replay everything else so many times :(

#caps #long post #sorta #pokemon #rant #ramblings #feel free to ignore or get mad at or somethin #im just shouting into the void but like go ahead if younfeel really passionate about it #i did not proofread this its prolly tangential but es ist was es ist

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nightowlfandom · 4 years ago

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Billy Loomis And Stu Macher x Reader- Our Favorite Girl (Slight gore warning)

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Leggo!

...(Trigger warning, stabby stab)

“Hey newbie!”

You looked up from your textbook to find Stu Macher prancing up to you. With a polite smile, you greeted him.

“Hi Stuart.” you said. “How are you?”

“Hey! I said you didn’t have to be so ‘oooh hi Stuart I’m so prim and proper.’ “ he laughed out loud. “We’re friends aren’t we?”

“I guess so.” you laughed nervously. “ Um...what’s up?”

“I’m havin’ a party and you’re coming!”

“Parties?” You frowned. “I-uh...” you wanted to reject the idea. You hated parties and your parents would probably blow a fuse if they knew what was going on around town. ‘Stuart, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not, kitten?” he winked. “Afraid to be seen with little ol’ me?” there was a darkness behind his words that you couldn’t ignore. “Don’t like being out after dark?”

“I’m not the partying type is all.” you shrugged. “If you hadn’t noticed, I’m not the most popular person around here.” you stared down at your shoes. “I just don’t wanna ruin your party. I’m the last person you wanna be seen with.”

“It’d make me real happy, kitten.” he stepped forward and slipped his fingertips under your chin and made you look up. “Please? Just for a few minutes.”

Call it weakness, but you couldn’t say no to him.

“Okay.” you smiled lightly. “I’ll go”

“Great! Don’t worry, it’ll be super memorable.” he winked as he skipped off.

Later on, you were walking to your locker only to bump into Adam. Typical bully. “Hey Y/N. Heard you were going to Macher’s party tonight...you gonna wear a dress for me?”

“No.” you answered curtly. “It’s amazing how you don’t seem to have anything better to do other than shove your nose into my business.” you hugged your books to your chest. “Can I go now?.”

“Hey...is there a problem?” you turned around to find Billy Loomis stalking up to you. You had seem him a handful of times but never actually talked to him before. “You...where do I know you from?”

“I sit behind you in English. We had a project together once.” you replied sheepishly. “Stuart forces me to sit between him and his girlfriend at lunch when they’re fighting. You talk to me from time to time...”

“Stuart...” he raised an eyebrow. “You mean Stu?”

“mhm! You probably don’t remember me because I never reply...” you nodded.

“You goin’ to his party or somethin’?”

“He asked me to go.” you trailed off. “You’re going too, right?”

“ Why? Excited to meet me there?”“ he smirked, totally ignoring Adam at this point.

“I mean...” you stared down at your books. “I was hoping someone I’d know would be there.”

Billy raised an eyebrow at you. You gave off a shy aura and for some reason he was into that. He and Stu had been planning a massacre, and they were gonna blame that damned Sydney Prescott. It was the perfect crime.

“Hm...I’ll see you there.” he winked at you, then sent a death-bringing glare at Adam. “Problem, handsome?” he sneered as he passed the athlete.

... at the party

“Not even three hours in and I have to hide...” you cursed yourself out. “Damn asshole...!”

Adam was informed that you had arrived and was looking for you, shit!

You ran into the kitchen, losing your breath. “Billy?”

The suspect in question whipped around. Billy was holding what you assumed was the house phone and instantly hung it up. “Hey...”

“Am I glad to see you.” you sighed.

“Somethin wrong?”

Billy was in the middle of executing his plan, but for some reason he couldn’t help but want to talk to you.

“Adam is looking for me.” you sighed. “Could I...stay here with you? Please?”

Billy smiled, darting out his tongue to run across his bottom lip. You were absolutely adorable. “I have a better idea.” he smirked, walking up to you. “Why don’t we send him a little message?”

“You have a girlfriend.” you put a hand on Billy’s chest. “I c-can’t.”

“Not anymore...she dumped me for Randy.” he tusked. ”Figures right?”

“Well...that’s her fault...you’re pretty cool.” you bit your lip.

“So...” Billy tilted your head up towards you. “Let me-”...he gently kissed your lips. While it felt wrong, you melted into him. He held the side of your face in his hand. Sidney wasn’t your friend, not by a longshot, but you still respected her. The fact that Billy was so willing to kiss you, like this.

“For once...stop worrying about other people.” he mumbled against your lips. “Just live in the moment...shit I know what I want...you know what you want...so act on it damnit.”

“Are we still talking about getting Adam off me back or-”

“Shush...don’t think.”

“Kinda hard to when your girlfriend is in the other room”

“Shut up.” he shushed you, tightening his arms around you. You kissed him back with just as much urgency. How would the others react, seeing this...seeing you. Billy backed you up against the counter. Before it could get any farther, you both heard screaming, girlish screaming.

“What the hell was that?” you asked, feeling your heart race.

“Stay here.” Billy ran in the direction of the noise, leaving you to stand there in terror.

You could hear screams and cries for help, followed by what sounded like gleeful laughter. You were left frozen in place as a man with a mask on his face kicked open the kitchen door.

You immediately braced yourself with a kitchen knife.

“Stay back!” you warned. “I will cut you!”

“Easy kitten, I’m not gonna kill ya.”

Call it ignorance. Call it instinct, but there was something familiar about the way this stranger spoke to you.

“What did you just say?” you dared ask this man. “Did you just call me kitten?”

“You’re naive, childish...and adorable...like a little kitty cat.” the way he laughed under the mask led you to believe he was laughing with his tongue stuck out.

There was only one person that you knew who spoke like that. You slowly lowered the knife and walked up to him cautiously. The figure didn’t move in the slightest. You were standing toe to toe with him.

You cautiously raised the mask only revealing the bottom half of the strangers face...only they weren’t a stranger.

“Stu.” you concluded.

“....You said my name.” he flirted.

“Care to explain?”

“In a bit...got something to take care of.” he straightened his mask again before disappearing again.

It was only less than a minute before Stu came quite literally crawling back into the kitchen.

Stu doubled over, holding his stomach as you rushed over to his side. “Stu?” you put a hand on his forehead. “Stu, please don’t be dead!” you winced. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” That damn Sidney...she must have had something to do with this.

“Y/N...it hurts.” Stu moaned in pain. “Hold me?”

You wasted no time in gathering him to the best of your abilities. He rested his head in your knee. You hummed thoughtfully, shushing him while you used his sweater to apply pressure to his stab wound.

“Y/N, are you sure you aren’t an angel?” He shamelessly flirted, smiling through his pain.

“No, I’m not.” you giggled. ”Save your energy.”

“I’d have more if you just gave me those lips of yours...” he winked. Just to shut him up, you kissed his forehead.

“Not what I meant, but works for me.”

As you chided the poor boy, Sydney ran into the kitchen, screaming at the top of her lungs while Billy also wounded stumbled behind.

“Billy??” you gasped in horror. Seeing you must have caused him to loose his footing, because he slowed his movements. You laid Stu on his back and urged him keep his sweater over his wound.

You scrambled to your feet, eyeing Sidney with a glare no one had ever seen you wear.

“Y/N! You’ve got to believe me! They’ve been the ones doing this.”

“I find that really hard to believe that when you were just standing over Stu with a bloody knife.” you seethed. “Your own boyfriend? Really?” you dared step closer.

“Y/N! They’re manipulating you!” she began crying. “You have to see it!” She was obviously hysterical.

“Then give me the knife.” you faked calm, cautiously stepping towards her. “Give me the knife...and we can-” you stopped yourself. You looked over at Billy, praying he wouldn’t be mad. “We’ll call the cops.” you you held your hand out.

“WHAT?” Billy seethed. You avoided his gaze. Hopefully he wouldn’t sense your fear.

“Trust me...” you said, just barely above a whisper. You were mostly talking to Billy, but had to make it look like it was directed at her. “We can get out of this...”

Sidney (very stupidly) outstretched her hand, the one that was holding the knife. Once it was within your reach, you grabbed her wrist, and grabbed the blade with your free hand, throwing it to the side. You tackled to to the floor and held her down.

“Crazy bitch.” you mumbled. She began thrashing, and screaming bloody murder. You were eventually able to get the best of her. “Whoever is the least dead...COPS...NOW!” You struggled as Sidney screamed. “This bitch is out of her mind!.”

“I have a better idea.” A seemingly fine, and now very much not dead Stu rose to his feet, a sick smile plastered on his face. The knife had slid over to him and you hadn’t even realized. You were too focused on keeping Sidney on the floor.

Suddenly you were yanked back into Billy’s arms as a sharp object came down from above, plunging through Sidney’s chest.

“Oh my god!” you buried your head into Billy’s shirt, trying to block out the terrible sounds you heard the terrible sounds of skin ripping.

“Shhh it’s over babe.” He shushed you. “It’s okay.” he stroked your hair with his bloody hand. Stu laughed manically as he wiped the sweat off his face.

“Some party huh.” Stu cackled. He wasted no time in sandwiching you between himself and Billy.

“You had us thinking you’d betray us, Kitten.” Stu dug his head into your shoulder.

“Y/N would never do that to us...she’s our good girl.”

“You guys are-”

“Absolutely.”

“And this party was-”

“Smart girl.”

“And now that you know our little secret, we’re never letting you go, kitten!” Stu laughed.

“And if you tell anyone, we’ll have no choice but to take you down with us...but you won’t do that to us, will you?” Billy asked, nuzzling his head into your neck.

#slasher imagines #slasher fan fiction #imagines #slashers #slasher x reader #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #ghostface imagines #billy x reader x stu #scream imagines #billy loomis imagines #stu macher imagines #horror imagines #poly ghostface

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babyboibucky · 4 years ago

Text

Kinda Like It When You Lie

Pairing: Destroyer!Chris x Reader

Summary: You discover the reason why Chris has been lying to you about his whereabouts.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: le smut, le angst, le toxicity but a sorta happy ending I guess???

A/N: I tagged everyone in my Everything Bucky tag list because why not lmfao okay but no, I’m not sure how often I will be writing fics for Seb’s other characters so I won’t be having a separate tag list for that yet. If this isn’t something you’re not interested in, feel free to ignore skskks

I am dedicating this piece to @lookiamtrying who got so pissed off that her mans Chris got a lower vote count than Mickey (prior to the release of Monday) when I did my character fic survey lmfao ilysm, Mina!!! This was also inspired by FLETCHER’s If You’re Gonna Lie

MAIN MASTERLIST

Chris kissed you as if it was his last day on earth. It made your insides twist in a blissful way, the kind of kiss that literally took your breath away and made your head spin. You could feel your lungs burning up from the lack of oxygen and yet you didn’t want to pull away.

All you could focus on was how his lips moved against yours, how his tongue danced around your mouth as if he owned you. And in that moment, he really did.

You got lost in Chris— his taste, his rough palms against the smooth expanse of your skin, his weight on top of you as he pressed you down against the cheap motel bed.

It wasn’t until you tried to touch Chris that you realized he had restrained your wrists with something cold and hard. Pulling away from his fervent kiss, you glanced up and saw that he had both of your wrists handcuffed against the headboard.

Tugging at your wrists, you let out a chuckle. “What’re ya, a cop?” you asked.

Chris breathed out through his nose, “Kinda.” he rasped out before taking your bottom lip in between his teeth, tugging at it before sliding his tongue back into your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss and opened up your legs to fully accommodate Chris’ huge build, his pelvis thrusting against your clothed core making you whine against his lips.

“You gonna arrest me or somethin’?” you asked playfully, tilting your neck to the side as you allowed Chris to nip at your skin, his thick beard scratching you much to your delight.

He pulled back to look at your eyes, “Only for stealin’ my heart, darling.”

What you thought was a one-night stand turned into something more. Not that you were complaining, in fact, you’d quickly fallen head over heels for Chris. How could you not when he was the most honest man you’d met in your entire life?

After that first night, Chris told you everything about him and his job. An FBI agent who needed to go undercover as a drug dealer in order to infiltrate a huge drug syndicate. He had been undercover for a while now and it was consuming, he said. That’s how you found him drinking alone at the bar you worked at.

“You planning to consume our entire stock of beers or what?”

Chris let out a breathy chuckle as you placed two more bottles of beer on his table. The man had been in the bar for hours now, drowning his miseries away since his arrival. You noticed him as soon as he sauntered into the bar— all beard and tattooed muscles on display with the denim vest he wore.

“I’m sorry.” he huffed out and you were surprised at how soft spoken he was despite his tough exterior. “Work’s been stressing me out, is all.” He explained with a firm smile.

You couldn’t help but return the gesture, “Thought you were stressin’ over your girl.” You smirked.

Chris narrowed his eyes at you, tongue darting out to lick his lower lip. “Got no girl to come home to.” He said, voice an octave lower and a little bit rougher.

You bit your lip and shrugged, “Man like you can easily find a solution to that.” You said and winked before heading back behind the bar, swaying your hips a little more than the usual.

By the time you reached the bar, you looked back at Chris and caught him staring with a certain look in his eyes.

The same look he would give you whenever you get mad at him for coming home late. The look that always won you over no matter what.

“You said you’d be home by eight, Chris. That was four hours ago.”

Chris rubbed his face and dropped his keys on the tray by the front door. You watched him with suspecting eyes as he trudged towards you, eyes tired yet apologetic.

“‘m sorry, sweetheart. Went out with the guys, you know how it is.” he said and tried to reach out to you but you were quick to step back.

“Could’ve texted me, y’know? I made dinner, your favorite. Got cold and decided to throw it in the bin when you didn’t show up.” you said, shaking your head in disappointment and turned around to retreat back into the bedroom.

Chris caught you and gripped your waist in his strong hands, preventing you from further walking away. He pulled your back against his chest, nuzzling his face into your neck as he whispered apologies into your ear.

“I’m sorry, babe. Let me make it up to you, huh?” he murmured roughly into your ear. “Wanna make you feel good, make you forget my sins.” he teased, earning a soft chuckle from you.

He sucked the skin beneath your earlobe, making your knees weak and your core throb. Chris gently turned you around to face him until your eyes met his-- dark and still apologetic, you wondered why because you’d already forgiven him the moment his hands touched your skin.

Your question was immediately forgotten when Chris kissed you, tongue quickly finding its way into your mouth. His kisses were always so urgent, so hungry and feral.

He always kissed you as if it was the last time.

Clothes strewn everywhere, raspy grunts and high pitched moans, sweaty bodies moving against each other. Every single time you and Chris argued, it always ended the same way, with you giving in to his sweet words and hot touches.

A hand on your nape kept your cheek pressed down onto the mattress as Chris pounded you from behind. Laying flat on your stomach, you could feel every ridge and every vein of his cock as it dragged against your walls. Gripping the sheets tightly, your knuckles turned white as you slightly lifted your ass up earning a harsh spank from Chris.

“You fuckin’ like it when I fuck you rough?” he growled, spanking your ass again before squeezing it into his large hand.

You whimpered at the cold sensation of the rings on Chris’ fingers, wanting it to mark your skin as soon as he was done with you. You moaned when Chris pulled back until only the tip of his hard cock remained in your tight pussy. Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes when he pushed your nape further into the mattress at the same time he slammed back in with such force that made you elicit a sound akin to a wail.

“Right there, Chris!” you wantonly pleaded, your drool soaking the sheets beneath you.

“I got you, baby. Gonna fuck you so good you’d forget what you were mad about.”

And forget you did, not just once, not twice. Not even thrice. Every single time Chris came home to you smelling like someone else’s perfume when he claimed to be out with his friends, you always ended up willingly forgetting about it. Chris had you wrapped around his finger and you knew it.

You knew he was lying about his whereabouts and the thing was, you chose to believe in it.

Because with each lie that slipped past his lips, came the sweetest apology followed by a promise to make you feel good and Chris always delivered.

You’d rather hear Chris’ lies than to hear his goodbye just so you can have him in your bed again and again and again.

The last lie you tolerated was when he forgot about your anniversary and came home the next day, all moody and grumpy. He went straight to the bathroom, mumbling about how he was tired from work and you didn’t know whether he was lying again or not.

You’d believed too many of his lies by now that you couldn’t even determine which ones were the truth and which ones weren’t.

“Happy anniversary to us, Chris. In case you forgot.” you said as soon as he got out of the shower.

Chris’ face fell, eyes refusing to meet yours from shame. He should be ashamed and so should you, because you’ve tolerated his lies for a year now and no matter how much you wanted to confront him, you always ended up forgiving him.

“Fuck.” he cursed. “I’m sorry, it’s just that...the buy bust operation was last night and it slipped my mind.” he said.

And there it was again, the look in his eyes that turned you into a moaning mess beneath him as soon as his lips found yours. Whenever Chris would lie, it always seemed to be so fucking worth it. Because he always fucked you senseless until you were stupid for him, enough to let him get away with his pathetic excuses.

But not tonight, because as Chris bent you in half with his cock slipping in and out of your wet cunt, you promised that this will be the last time you’d enjoy the aftermath of his lies.

“Come on, baby. Give me one more. Want this pussy to milk my cock dry, c’mon pretty girl.” he urged, slipping a hand in between your sweaty bodies, his thumb swiping at your clit until stars exploded behind your eyes.

His name was chanted out like a prayer, your lips red and swollen from being kissed and bitten. A few more hard thrusts and you felt Chris spill his seed into you, warm ropes of his cum painting your walls. He carefully slipped your legs off from his shoulders before laying down on top of you, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your chest as the both of you caught on your breaths.

“Where were you last night?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Chris turned his head to you, trying to read your face but you kept your gaze on the ceiling. Tears escaped your eyes as you laid on the bed, blinking them away when they wouldn’t stop spilling.

“I want the truth, Chris.” you added, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

The bed moved when Chris sat up, reaching for your face and turning it to wards him. Your lips were trembling, fighting back your sob. Chris closed his eyes and shook his head.

“I’m sorry.” he said.

“I don’t want your apology, Chris. I want the truth, please.” you begged.

“I can’t stay with you anymore.” he said.

You frowned and sat up, bringing the sheets up to cover your naked body. “Who’s she?” you asked. “I know you’ve been seein’ someone behind my back, I want to know. Who is she? ‘nother FBI agent? Or someone you met while you were undercover?” you were more of mad than hurt now, all your suppressed emotions finally resurfacing and begging to be released.

Chris swallowed and refused to meet your gaze, “It’s...it’s not like that.” he said.

“The fuck you mean, Chris?” you asked.

There was silence for a brief moment, as if Chris was gathering up all the courage he had left in him. And then he looked at you with the same guilty, apologetic eyes again. But it was different now because you knew that there wouldn’t be anymore lies which meant no more sweet talk and no more Chris in your bed until the next morning.

“I never cheated on you.” he huffed out. “I’ve always been...with Erin.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You were a part of my undercover. The leader of the drug syndicate I was trying to infiltrate frequented the bar you worked at. Needed to get as much as information as I can and I easily got that when we started—”

Your hand trembled after landing a solid slap on Chris’ face. Your heart ached, your vision spun and suddenly, nothing made any sense to you anymore. All this time, you thought that was Chris was being unfaithful to you when in truth, he was cheating…with you.

Now you finally understood why he always kissed you as if it was the last time, why he looked at you with those apologetic eyes whenever he came home late, whenever he lied.

Chris told you the entire truth, that he was at the bar during an operation and not after. He manipulated you into believing that everything he told you were real, that he was a good and an honest man, that Erin was nothing but a partner at work.

“When you said you love me, was that a lie too?” you asked, voice breaking because this was too much. Everything was too much.

Chris held your face in between his hands, rubbing his thumbs across your cheeks, “No. No, that wasn’t a lie. I do, I love you. As soon as the operation was done, I couldn’t say goodbye. I always said I’d tell you the truth but I couldn’t. I wish I hadn’t met you like this.” he reassured.

You pushed him away and covered your face with your hands, unable to believe that for an entire year, you’d dedicated your life and your love to someone who had been using you.

“Does she know about me?” you asked.

Chris nodded, “She does.”

You scoffed, “She fuckin’ pities me, doesn’t she? Probably told you to take your time, ‘cause the truth will fuckin’ ruin me.” you said and chuckled bitterly.

“You used me, Chris. Fuckin’ used me and made me a goddamn fool. Is Chris even your real name? Who the fuck are you?” you asked.

“I lied about everything except for two things. My name and when I said I love you.”

You shook your head, wiping away your tears. You’ve finally woken up, brought yourself back to consciousness and decided to accept that Chris was never honest and that not once did he become yours.

“Liar.”

Picking up the pieces of your broken trust was very much like working with the shards of a broken mirror. At times you came out unscathed but for the most part, you were left wounded and bleeding and in pain.

Putting all the broken pieces back together was definitely not easy and it took you years to do so. No matter how careful you were though, the mirror was never completed. There were ugly cracks and everywhere that you couldn’t hide and there was a missing piece. But that’s alright, because you tried to put yourself back together and you weren’t perfect but at least you did your best.

The bar you started working for was quite new, which explained how busy it was even on a slow Wednesday. It wasn’t as big as the old bar you used to work at, but this was newer and catered to a more classy crowd.

No rough bikers, no FBI agents going undercover, no funny businesses.

“Two bottles of beer for table seven.” your manager called out, “Thought it’d be slow today, boy was I wrong.” she commented to which you chuckled.

Taking out two ice-cold bottles from the fridge, you weaved through the crowd and tables until you reached your destination. Placing the bottles on top of the table, you asked the customer if he wanted to order something to go with his drinks.

Taking out your notepad, you finally looked up and was met with a pair of familiar blue eyes. You almost didn’t recognize Chris if it weren’t for those eyes. He was no longer sporting a buzz cut and had longer locks, his beard had grown out but was well-trimmed. His tattooed arms weren’t in full display and instead of the usual denim outfits he wore, he was merely clad in a plaid, maroon button down shirt.

“Hi.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, “Let me guess, you’re undercover and your target is a frequent customer here.” you said.

Chris laughed mirthlessly and shook his head, “I quit from that job years ago.” he said, much to your surprise.

“You stressin’ over your girl?” you asked.

“Got no girl to come home to...anymore.” Chris replied, those damn apologetic eyes making your knees weak once again.

You rolled your eyes at him and placed your notepad back in your apron, “If you’ve nothin’ else to order, then enjoy your beer. I guess.” you said and turned around but was quickly tugged back when Chris grabbed at your wrist.

Scowling at him, you eyed his hand and then back up at his eyes. They didn’t look apologetic though, you realized, he was giving you the same look but something was different.

You just didn’t know what changed.

“I did love you.” he said. “And I still do and I want to come home to you again.” he quickly added, tightening his grip around your wrist as if he was afraid to let you go.

Surprisingly, there was not an ounce of anger left in your heart. It had been a complete three years since the incident. He left you feeling used and broken but you managed to fix yourself. Not completely, but enough to find it in your heart to forgive Chris for what he did.

“I want to believe you, I really do. But it’s hard for me to do that now.” you explained.

Chris nodded in understanding, “I know but I want to start over again. Make things right, if you’d let me. No lies this time, just me and my truth.” he said, his thumb rubbing soft circles against the inside of your wrist.

Honesty. Pure and genuine honesty— that’s what changed in the way Chris looked at you. There wasn’t any guilt in there anymore, no hidden agendas and whatnot.

Just the truth and the missing piece you never knew you needed to complete your mirror.

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @im-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr @asemistablehundredyearoldman @reidbuck @lizzarooni @girlfriday007 @bonkywobble @lost-in-the-stars03 @its-yasbxtch @whoth3hellisbucky

#bbb writes #oneshots: destroyer!chris #destroyer!chris #destroyer!chris x reader #destroyer!chris x you #destroyer!chris angst #destroyer!chris smut #sebastian stan

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bokutoslittlebird · 4 years ago

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Request : hi bb chan can i request for miya twins competing who will impregnate their little first? whos going to have a first child with their beloved little sister whos too innocent to know that her brothers are trying to impregnate her and theyre not giving her pills but a vitamins so you wont let them wear a condom and sincce you like to be bred by them so fucking bad you trust them so much until you got pregnant. if you’re busy please feel free to ignore this, thank you ☺️

Ima just let y’all know that if it involves incest I’m probably gonna write it just because I love writing onii-san stuff (and onee-san) and breeding? Fucking fire my dudes and dudettes. Also I realized I wrote something similar to this??? The miya twins with their 19 yr virgin sister drabble

Includes : incest, creampie(s), breeding, forced pregnancy, dubcon/noncon, unprotected sex, miya madness, deceiving onii-sans, drugs, feederism, cum-eating (implied), use of the word “cunny”, Atsumu uses the nickname “bunny”

Naïveté

The special tea Atsumu gave you was delicious, warm in your belly. It was supposed to relax you, easing the stress out of your muscles as he rubbed the soreness away. A soft moan and a lean into his touch had his massage turning into a different direction. With his hand down your panties, the empty cup was forgotten, slipping from your hands as you favored gripping his toned arm as you sunk into his chest. Your whines were drowned out by his deep rumble of laughter.

“Yer wound so tight, somethin’ the matter?” His voice was like silk, melting away any stress you had left. You whine again, feeling his fingers rub that special spot inside your cunny.

“It’s nothin’, really,” you gasp out, your other hand gripping the arm around your waist.

“Oh? Don’t wanna tell nii-san, is that it?” His growl in your ear has your walls clamping down on his fingers, but he removes them before you can have release. A whine comes as you squirm in his hold. Hot breaths against your ear are al you get, but you know what he wants. He wants the truth.

“It’s just... is this wrong? It feels wrong when you and ‘Samu-nii touch me..” you voice your concern. It didn’t feel wrong, but you were forbidden from telling anyone, including your parents. Both of your brothers said they’d never touch you again if you told anyone. Like it was a bad thing.

“Of course not, bunny. It’s not wrong to feel good,” he murmurs into your ear, his fingers sliding back into your warm heat. You sigh at the feeling, back arching as your orgasm builds up again. “As long as you take your medicines, you’ll be fine,” he murmurs once more, his eyes focused on the hand inside your panties. When your walls tighten again, he doesn’t pull out. Releasing all over his fingers, you find yourself much more at ease than before.

Only a moment to relax before you find your face pushed into the pillows, Atsumu’s hand planted on the back of your head to keep you down. The panties are ripped off, exposing your glistening cunny folds to the air of the room. Your room was always kept slightly chilly since your onii-sans kept you warmed up every night. A thick thumb flicked at your clit, eliciting a whine from your throat before you were spanked.

“Don’t be impatient. You’ll get what you want in a minute, don’t worry,” Atsumu coos, hand rubbing an apology where he spanked you. After a few seconds of clothing shuffling around, you felt his tip nudging your entrance. Swiftly, he slid into your wet cunt and had to stop halfway. You always needed to adjust the first time of the night. Wiggling your hips had him pinching your hip, getting a giggle of you before he started to thrust.

Atsumu’s hand kept you firmly planted against the pillows, pistoning his cock into your cunny with sloppy, wet noises bouncing around the room. Your hands were bunching the fabric below you, mouth open in a never ending moan as your walls tightened around Atsumu. A chuckle left his chest, amping up the pace as you released your essence all over him. He wouldn’t stop until he had his own release, though. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t see how much he got out of you.

With his balls slapping against your clit, he didn’t need to rub his fingers against the little bud. The added pressure had you coming undone once more, a silent scream from you as your eyes roll back, toes curling with your last orgasm. Atsumu grunts and buried himself to the hilt, spilling inside your warm cunt. Once he’s finished expending himself into you, gentle kisses press into your sweaty back as you come down from your high.

“Think we got-“ a knock interrupts him, a sigh as he finishes. “Time. I guess not, see ya later, bunny,”

“M’kay,” you moan, feeling him slip out of you. Had it not been for Osamu on the other side of the door, Atsumu would’ve stayed to push his cum back into you. Another sigh leaves his lips as he tucks himself away, opening the door to be greeted to the sight of Osamu with a plate of food.

“All yours,”

“Took up an entire hour, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu blatantly states. Atsumu growls at that, full well knowing he spent that hour pleasing you and making you comfortable. Seems like it might be Osamu’s lucky day.

“Shut up. She drank some tea,” he mutters in response, leaving Osamu to have his fill of you. He’ll just rest before Osamu’s hour is up.

Osamu shrugs in response to Atsumu’s attitude, entering your room and shutting the door. Your tear filled eyes gaze up at him, glazed over as you wait. “Flip over. It’s time for your snack,”

“Snack?” You tilt your head, owlish eyes looking at him as he shows you the plate of onigiri. You excitedly start to dig into one, finding it’s a bit saltier than usual although it is still delicious. Osamu encourages you to eat more, shoving another rice ball into your mouth once the first one is gone. You greedily eat it up, feeling his cock rubbing between your folds as it collects the mixture of yours and Atsumu’s cum. “‘Sa-‘Samu,”

“You gotta keep eating if you want my cock, you know that,” he flicks your clit with his thumb, your legs twitching at the stimulation. He grins at that, knowing you’re sensitive. You finish off the onigiri, feeling his cock slip inside seconds later. “Good girl, eat all of it,” he presses another one to your lips.

“I’m not hungry, ‘Samu-nii,” you moan out, his hips rolling as he slowly thrusts into you. It has you quickly feeling your orgasm rise, the feeling of his cock stretching you out and pumping Atsumu’s cum further into you.

“If you don’t eat it all, you won’t get to cum,” he says. You immediately continue eating, the threat of no release much worse than multiple ones. He grins again at that, picking up his pace as you moan around the food in your mouth.

When you finally finish the onigiri, you feel so full and stuffed. When he notices, he grabs the back of your knees and pushes them to your chest, making it hard to breathe. “Nii-san!”

“You gotta be good for me, yeah? Be good for nii-san and take all of it,” he grunts, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass loud as you cream around him, back arching. Your lungs burn from going into overdrive and your legs burn from the stretch, but your cunny stings from the heavy and sharp thrusts of Osamu’s hips into it. It isn’t until he starts rubbing your clit do you know he’s close to release, his groaning getting louder as he stutters his hips, thick ropes of cum oozing into you and spurting out, dripping from your plugged up hole.

Breathless moans leave both of your lips, Osamu diving to give you a passionate kiss as you wrap your arms around him. Your night isn’t over, but he’ll let you rest.

The next morning, you always take a pregnancy test. Just in case your special pills don’t work. Atsumu told you they prevent pregnancy, that’s why you let them release inside. Even so, they want you to take a test in case. It always shows negative, a relief on your part while your nii-sans seem tense. When the test shows positive, your tears are enough to show them something’s different.

“Well, I guess it’s time to see whose it is. The unlucky one can get a try next time,” Atsumu chuckles, turning the blood in your veins cold.

What does he mean?

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #osamu smut #atsumu x reader x osamu #atsumu smut #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #Mr. ‘Samu #Mr. ‘Tsumu #Onigiri Man #dark haikyuu content #tw.incest #tw.pregnancy #tw.breeding #tw.noncon #tw.dubcon

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titan-fodder · 4 years ago

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Prima Vista Part IV

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.6k

Warning: a big helping of abandonment/daddy issues, lots of feelings, explicit sexual content A/N: y’all are gonna be so soft and then so mad lmao.

The plan was to go to Mike's house then back to campus. You said you didn't have anything to do at your mom's, that a long phone call would suffice, which is why Mike is confused when you ask him if you can stop by before going back. It's an hour out of the way, but it's not like he has anything better to do, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about your humble beginnings.

The house is in a decent-looking neighborhood, small, nearly identical one-story homes surrounded by cracked sidewalks. He has to be careful not to trip as you make your way to the front porch, pots of dead or dying plants along the edges of it. You shove your key into the lock, twist and open, then motion for Mike to follow.

The den is dimly lit, ceiling fan above with only one working bulb. A crime show is playing on the TV but there's no one watching. There is, however, another light pouring from a back room, and as soon as you drop your bag on the couch, a head pokes out from the doorway.

"Baby girl!" A shrill voice cries, and Mike sees you grimace. "I thought you weren't coming by!"

A woman walks into the den wearing long, cotton shorts and an old tie-dye shirt then pulls you into a hug so tight that it makes you cough.

"Mom," you take a deep breath as if to refill your lungs with all the air that was pushed from them. "This is Mike."

He holds out a hand and smiles, but all your mother does is stare with round eyes and blurt, "Oh, he's a big boy."

"My fucking god." You don't yell or whine, just pinch the bridge of your nose and mumble, "Just shake his hand please."

"Sorry, I'm sorry, just was not expecting… You didn't tell me how tall he was."

"'Cause it doesn't matter. Why would I—nevermind," you cut yourself off, face falling flat just like your voice.

Mike isn't sure if he should be flattered or offended or embarrassed, so he just ignores the comment entirely and says, "Nice to meet you."

You make your escape to the back, dragging Mike with you before shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it.

"Mom is a little weird, but you'll always know where you stand with her," you tell him. "Also, sorry about the house. She’s a teacher, so she’s usually pretty beat at the end of the day. Not enough energy to do a lotta cleaning."

"Didn't even notice," he reassures you.

Mike unpacks his bag next to you, and you gather the dirty clothes from both yours and his, balling them up and taking them with you out to the garage to throw into the washing machine. Mike should have done it at his parents', but as you were packing up that morning, his mother got all teary eyed and his dad just kept shaking your tiny hands and telling you to come back, so it just didn’t happen.

Back in the living room, your mom is sitting in an old rocking chair, and Mike thinks you'll take a seat on the adjacent couch, but instead you ask, "You need help with anything? Dishes or vacuuming or somethin'?"

She looks up at you, fly-away hairs sticking out around her temples and forehead and responds, "It'd be nice if you could do the dishes. I just haven't gotten around to it."

"Can do," you nod and walk into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher and making a displeased noise at the dirty plates and bowls inside. There's room for a few more, but once it's full and running, you just clean what's left in the sink by hand. Mike finds a towel, stands next to you, and holds his hand out for every scrubbed dish, drying it and placing it in the rack to hopefully be put up later.

"You hungry?" You ask when you're done and drying your hands. "It's almost one."

"Uh, yeah. I could eat."

Truthfully, he's starving having only had a small breakfast at his parents'. He doesn't want to say that, though, doesn't want you making a big meal for him or apologizing for anything.

"Sandwiches okay?"

Something in your tone has him on edge. Your voice is too quiet, deflecting downward as if you're forcing each word from your mouth.

"Yeah," he nods. "If you get the stuff, I can make 'em." Mostly so that you can relax but also because there's no way he's gonna let you make him a fucking sandwich.

You shrug your shoulders, grab bread, lunchmeat, cheese, and condiments, then say, "You can make ours. I'll make mom's."

He knows he's missing something, but he doesn't know what, and right now he's too afraid to ask.

He eats next to you on the couch, you and your mom watching TV as Mike tries to subtly glance around. Mounted shelves are decorated with dusty, mismatched figurines, cracks opening at the corners where the walls meet the roof. The brick fireplace is stacked high with plastic tubs and books, probably from your mother’s classroom, and the carpet has seen better days.

Mike isn't judging—not in the least—but he has a feeling he knows why being here puts you in a sour mood. The house feels lived in, cluttered and cozy and worn around the edges, but it's still empty somehow.

After the three of you are finished eating, you take the paper plates and dispose of them, then tell your mom that you'll be in your room. She gives you a soft smile that you struggle to return.

It's a little more you in the bedroom, blue walls covered in old posters and collages, a quilt similar to the one in your dorm folded at the bottom of your bed. Your pillow cases are faded and covered in an old flower design that matches your sheets, and there's a small nightstand next to the headboard that's bare on top with wrinkled papers poking out of the bottom drawer.

"It's not much, but if you wanna snoop around like I always do, feel free."

Mike doesn't really want to, especially since you already seem so uncomfortable in what should be a safe space for you. The only thing he feels okay investigating is the old bookshelf next to your closet—mostly YA novels, some poetry books, an old set of The Lord of the Rings series, a textbook over rocks and minerals and another over volcanoes. Tucked away in the bottom shelf is a tiny booklet that looks like a photo album, and Mike has to fight the urge to pull it from its place and flip through the plastic pages. Anything to get to know you better.

You lay in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, and Mike doesn't know what to do. There's a very small TV sitting on your dresser, an old DVD player next to it, so he figures he'll save both you and himself from talking by picking out a movie.

He fingers through them, not that there's a lot, just skims the spines until he pulls out a copy of Space Jam. You only glance at the screen when the intro starts, and Mike immediately zeroes in on the way your jaw sets and your brows furrow.

"I can pick something else," he tells you quietly.

You take a deep breath and shake your head. Slowly but surely your features begin to soften.

"'S'fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. My, uh…" You swallow loud enough from Mike to hear, neck bobbing with the motion. "My dad and I used to watch it all the time."

He doesn't know what to make of it or how to respond. In the months he's known you, Mike has never heard you mention your father a single time, and he's never asked in fear of what your response might be.

He moves your quilt to sit on the very edge of the bed, a little too tense as he heavily contemplates ignoring what you'd said and still switching movies.

"You can lay down, you know," you mumble. "I'm not gonna bite you."

"You have before," he tries to act casual, but it comes out too stiffly.

You laugh through your nose— "Suit yourself—" then get more comfortable on the mattress.

Michael Jordan gets pulled into a golf hole and the Loony Toons journey to retrieve his shoes from the real world. Mike is barely paying attention, more focused on the way your breathing evens out until it becomes slow and deep.

That's good. You could use a nap.

He watches you for a while, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and your lips part. You're all curled up on yourself, hands tucked under your chin, knees to your stomach, and Mike wants to slip behind you so badly, to pull you to his chest and lay with you until his heartbeat syncs with yours.

But first.

As carefully as he can, Mike stands from the bed and glides to the bookcase. He lowers himself in front of it, quickly finding what he's looking for and pulls it from the shelf.

It's a small little album, full of polaroids and old pictures cut in half. The first page sets the tone for the rest of the booklet, a photo of a very small you outside eating a popsicle next to a man that is most definitely your dad. You've got a similar facial structure as well as his coloring. Not to mention the expression he's wearing is one Mike has seen you make many times before.

The next picture is the two of you dressed up for an event. He's in a striped Polo and slacks while you're in a little checkered dress, a rose corsage on your tiny wrist. Some kind of father-daughter dance, Mike guesses.

Sitting on his lap at a fair, a chubby little boy a few years older than you standing close with a stuffed snake around his neck. A party where you're posed with an honestly frightening costume character. You in a bright, mesh jersey standing back to back with your dad, arms crossed, looking at the camera with your chins tilted upward.

They all look like good memories. The little boy in the fair picture appears several more times, and as he loses his baby fat, Mike sees the resemblance he shares with you and your father. It's too close to be a cousin—your eyes and mouths shaped the same—so he must be your brother.

Mike doesn't know how to feel about that because again, you've never uttered a word. As far as he knew, you were an only child, so why…

He gets lost in the pages, watching you grow and pose mostly next to your dad. Smiles and laughs and silly faces with your tongues sticking out. Your mom is in some, brother in others, and then, you're in a cap and gown, grinning widely next to your dad who's beginning to gray at the temples. His own smile is barely there now, a ghost of what was seen in the previous photos. It's forced, it's sad, and it's the last picture in the book.

Mike's chest hurts. He wonders what happened, when exactly you'd lost him. Was it a quick goodbye, or had it been drawn out and painful? Had he been sick for a long time? He'd looked perfectly healthy in all the shots. Maybe a car accident that took both him and your brother…

He flips to check for one last photo on the back of the page, but it's empty. However, tucked in a tiny, paper pocket is a folded up note that Mike stares at for a few solid minutes, debating the pros and cons of reading it. He knows he's already violated your privacy by looking through the album, and fuck, he's only been in your house for a couple hours at most—how has he already managed to tumble down such a humongous rabbit hole?

Your tiny snores reach his ears, and Mike gently pulls the note out, biting his lip as he unfolds it as quietly as possible. It's soft, like it's been read too many times, and the letters scribbled in all caps are beginning to fade, but the words are still legible.

It starts with your name, and then it's all apologies—sorry I can't stay, I have to leave, you don't understand how much this hurts me and so on.

Mike's eyebrows pull together the further he reads, blood pounding against the walls of his arteries, pulse picking up because he understands now.

Your father wasn't in any sort of accident; he just left.

The letter ends with a gut-wrenching, You'll always be my little girl, and Mike nearly crumples the paper up to throw away. He resists somehow, simply folds it with shaky hands and slips it back into the pocket at the back of the album.

He's never been so mad at a stranger in his life. This must be it. This must be why you are—

"Should've known you'd go straight for the photo album."

Your voice makes Mike's body jolt, his face heating as he turns to look at you with wide eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

You wave him off and prop yourself up on an elbow. "It's whatever."

But, it's not. It's this huge part of you that still affects you to this day. Mike is no psychologist, but he has a pretty good feeling this is the main reason you hold everyone at arm's length.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"What's there to tell?"

Sitting up fully, your gaze moves to the screen just in time to see Michael Jordan step off of the spaceship and onto the baseball field. I Believe I Can Fly is playing, and you're gritting your teeth.

"It's not anything that comes up in normal conversation anyway. I wasn't just gonna hit you with it outta nowhere. Also," you look back to Mike, eyes still sleepy, lips pulling downward in a frown. "I'm not the only one who hid stuff about my family."

Mike sighs and quietly tells you, "That's different," as he closes the album and slides it back into the row of books.

"Is it, though? Is it really?"

"I..."

Mike shuts his mouth and actually thinks on it. He wasn't trying to lie to you about his home life or his heritage. He's only half Greek on his mom's side, after all, and he's only been to the country to visit family a couple of times—once when he was a child and once right before college. The culture is a little different over there, but it all seems so natural to him, especially after being raised to speak the language.

Honestly, he didn't ever tell you because he didn't think to, but Mike can understand the shock of walking into his childhood home and getting thrown through that loop. It must have been jarring for you.

It's a positive aspect of his life, though. It's not something that's damaged him or made him cold toward others. And, he hates describing you in such a way, but it's true.

At least it makes sense now.

"I guess not," he shrugs. He's not about to fight you on it.

You stare at him for a while, waking up a bit more as you rub your eyes and stretch.

Then, you flop back down on your pillows.

"So. Any questions, Zacharias?"

He's surprised that you're asking, and though he doesn't want to twist the metaphorical knife in your gut, he still replies honestly: "Too many."

A long exhale through your nose, and then you're patting the mattress next to you and grumbling, "Fine, I'll do my best, but you gotta come up here."

"Why? You gonna need to cuddle afterward?" He can't help but tease.

"Fuckin' maybe, dude! We're about to get into my god damn trauma so—"

Mike is up on his feet and flying toward the bed. He isn't about to sabotage the one fucking moment you're opening yourself up.

"Alright, what first?" You ask, trying to look bored, but Mike can clearly see that you're nervous.

"He left."

"Yeah."

And then he gets the full story.

Your dad was pretty perfect during your younger years—a bit of a workaholic but still good. He took you to dances like the one you'd both dressed for in the photograph. You'd spend days at amusement parks where he'd carry you on his shoulders. He coached the basketball team you'd played on as a child.

"Not saying he played favorites, but I was definitely closer to him than my brother was."

The brother who developed a drug problem at fourteen, who was always either out with his little addict friends or at home where he would just scream at you and your mom.

"He went to rehab a couple times, but it didn't stick."

He left home at seventeen and hasn't gotten in touch with you or your parents since.

"I keep thinking one day we'll get a call from the police saying they found his wallet on a fucking corpse, but who knows. Maybe he got clean. Maybe he started a family somewhere else. He'd be twenty-five now."

"Were you ever close with him?"

You shrug. "We spent a lot of time together when we were really little, but even back then he was kinda a mean kid."

It very quickly circles back to your father. Mike still doesn't feel like he has all the answers, so he asks through the skin of his lip, "Why'd he leave?"

At this point, you've got your head in his lap as he sits against the wall. He smooths your hair back from your face every once in a while, something his mom used to do to him when he was very young that always soothed him.

He hopes it's having the same effect on you, thinks it might be considering you've had your eyes closed for a while now, humming now and then as you talk.

"Honestly, I don't really know. I don't think he and my mom were ever in love. Like, they just kinda settled for each other," you sigh. "They didn't have a lot in common. They had different upbringings. But, they didn't fight or anything—not in front of us. They were good at hiding the hard times from me and my brother. They just didn't… click."

Mike bites his tongue, wonders if that was hard to watch or if you'd been too naive to notice.

Then, there's his second train of thought that's really just the voice in his head screaming, we click, though! You and I work! But he keeps it to himself. This isn't about you and him.

"I think maybe dad had, like, a 'stay together for the kids' mentality 'cause as soon as I graduated, he was fuckin' gone. And, I mean gone. We went to a graduation party the next weekend that lasted a few hours—just me and mom—and when we got back his truck wasn't in the driveway and his drawers were empty. He left that note you read on my desk."

Mike breathes. Just breathes. He tries to make sense of it, how someone could just do that without a real reason. There hadn't been any explanation in the letter, only apologies.

"Have you seen him since?"

You open your eyes and reply, "Nope," popping the 'p'. "I don't know where he is, and he hasn't reached out. Mom made the drive to my grandma's—his mom—but she said she didn't know where he was either. Pretty sure she was covering for him, though. She was always kind of a bitch. You know, save for the whole paying for my college and all."

Mike snorts at this, not that there's anything funny about the situation. It's just his first reaction.

You ignore it, moving on with an, "Anyway."

"Anyway," he mimics.

"I don't know if you've noticed in the short time you've been here, but my mom is a little… off. Not super good at taking care of herself."

"Is this why?"

"Clever boy," you show a bitter smile. "I didn't really understand since they weren't, like, in love or whatever, but… I think it was the betrayal more than anything. Like, it came outta nowhere, a big ol' slap in the face."

"Plus, he left you behind," Mike adds, as if you don't already know.

Looking up at him, you raise your eyebrows and smirk. "And, now you know about my abandonment issues." The last part comes out in high-pitched, melodic syllables, a little song that would be funny if Mike didn't know it was a coping mechanism. It most definitely is, though. He can tell that you're the type to mask every issue with humor and sarcasm. It's how you've been dealing with him for the last several months.

"So, that's my story," you conclude on an exhale. "Now you know all my dirty secrets."

"For some reason I don't think that's all of them," Mike pets your hair again. "But, probably the important ones."

"Mm. I guess."

The rest of the day is really just spent killing time. You cook an easy dinner that you refuse to let Mike help with, then sit in the den with your mom just like you did at lunch. A medical show is playing. Then a reality show. Then a game show. None of you say much of anything, and it's painfully awkward for Mike now that he knows what happened, but he can power through a few days of this if it makes you feel better.

Hours pass until you can retreat, and moonlight shines through your bedroom window, not that Mike needs it. He's memorized your body at this point, knows where to touch without even seeing. He makes sure to be gentle, to suckle and blow on your pebbled nipples as you card fingers through his hair and breathe faster and faster.

Leaving love bites down your chest and stomach, he sucks on your skin, gently grazing his teeth over every bruise. Mike wants you to see them all the next day—not a staked claim, just something you can't ignore when you look in the mirror, evidence of his feelings in every mark.

When you're finally nice and relaxed, he spreads your legs and licks into you, trying not to be too rough with his beard, but a few swipes of it over your clit leave you shaking in his grasp. You whisper his name, the common one that everyone knows him by, but then, rolling off your tongue like a prayer, you call him, "Miche," and he can't help the rumble that rises in his chest.

It should be strange. That's the name only his family uses, the one he was born with. He only simplified it so that kids in school wouldn't ask questions or make fun of him, and after that, it just sort of stuck. But, here and now, falling from your lips, it's so soft. So intimate.

You whimper when he sucks on your folds, making them swell, making them sensitive. And then, he's pushing his tongue inside of you and humming happily at the taste. His nose is bumping against your clit, and Christ, you even smell good to him—that ripe, tangy aroma that has Mike going a little crazy. He has to make sure he doesn't get too carried away. You can't make very much noise even with the rattling of the air conditioner, but as he slowly slides a finger into your pussy, he hears you moan around the fist you're holding to your mouth.

He stretches you just enough to get you ready, then he holds himself over you and pushes into your wet cunt. Your eyes are open, locked with Mike's as your brow raises and your jaw drops. It's erotic, something you've never done with him before. You typically either gaze somewhere other than his face or keep your eyes squeezed shut.

Tonight, though, you've been vulnerable and apparently want to stay that way for a little while longer.

He bends to catch you in a kiss, lips and tongues moving just as slowly as his hips, and when you reach to tug at Mike's hair, he pants into your mouth.

Those words are there again, stuck in his throat but slowly crawling upward until they're just there, pouring from his tongue, "I lo—"

Until you cut him off with a sharp, "Don't."

He makes a noise of frustration, wants to protest because he's so deep inside of you, and you're holding onto him like you want him—truly want him, but you mutter once more against his lips, "Don't say it, Miche."

So, he doesn't. He bottles the confession up and keeps it locked away, hoping like hell that one day you'll let him tell you.

After you climax and coat his cock in slick and cream, he gives a few more thrusts and comes inside of you, filling you with himself and wondering why you're so willing to accept him in that way but not in any other.

He's hurting again, like he did at his parents' as you walked around like you belonged there. Except it's worse now.

If you don't want him to say it, that means you don't want to say it back.

He stays with you for a few more minutes before pulling out. You leave to clean up, and while you're gone, Mike sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tries to get it all out of his system, whispering it out loud to himself:

I love you. I love you, I love you.

You still let him hold you as you fall asleep, gripping his hand until you can't anymore, and as Mike drifts off behind you, he has one last thought—Just let me.

* There’s only three weeks left of the semester when you head back to campus, and you intend to make the most of every passing day.

You pay better attention in class. You study harder in the library to prepare for final exams. You go to a few more Pi Alpha Kappa parties, making sure not to burn yourself out. And, you let Mike fuck your brains out every few days. Sometimes it’s late at night after those parties. Sometimes you're too tired after the nights of drinking and end up just going to bed only to wake up in the morning and have slow, sleepy sex. Sometimes it’s in the middle of the afternoon when you both have breaks between classes.

Neither of you bring up anything that happened over the break—meeting families, details about your childhoods, how much you learned about one another in general.

Most importantly, neither of you address that first night at your mom’s, the way Mike had basically worshiped your body, how he’d come so close to uttering the three words you least want to hear.

Thinking about it still makes your chest tighten, your heart beat faster. Sometimes when you’re sharing his bed with him, back pressed to his chest, large arm slung over your waist, you think about why it is you’re so vehemently against it. The two of you already act like a couple most of the time. You walk with each other to class when you can. You stick to each other’s sides at parties. You fuck like rabbits and don’t care who knows about it.

And, though you’re hesitant to admit it even to yourself, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him. Mike is your best friend at this point. He’s insanely hot. He’s goofy. He’s kind. Yeah, the frat boy persona he puts on around his friends is annoying, but you understand it a little better now. Plus, he always takes off the mask when he’s alone with you, giving both you and himself a break from it.

You know your time with him is quickly coming to an end—for about two months, at least—and whenever you think too hard about it, it makes you pout and huff. You’re not looking forward to your summer classes without him, but he promises on several occasions that you can call him while he’s at his parents’ if you ever need help with the material.

It’s impressive, the way he’s able to act like nothing happened. You know it must be troubling him, but it’s not like you can do anything to soothe him. If he was really upset with you, he would have stopped spending time with you, but he hasn’t. He just bottles it up, keeps smiling at you all crookedly, and keeps satisfying you in the bedroom (more than satisfying honestly. There’s really not a word to describe what he does).

He’s back to getting along with everyone in the Pike house, everyone being Erwin. It’s a relief just because you don’t have to put up with the tension between them, but it’s also awkward. And, a little frightening.

The brothers have Smash Brothers tournaments and movie nights, a few date parties here and there, and it never fails that at some point during the evenings, you find your neck prickling as it always does when you feel someone staring at you. You always hope it’s Mike. Fuck, you wish it was him. But, when you glance up and around, it’s Erwin. Every time. His deep blue eyes are trained on you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward on one side. It doesn’t matter if he’s alone or if he’s got Maddie or some other girl sitting in his lap. He's fucking shameless, and it makes your stomach hurt.

You keep your mouth shut for the sake of the friendship but also for the sake of Erwin’s pretty face. If he and Mike ever got into an actual fight, Erwin would probably be able to get a good few punches in, but you’re nearly positive Mike would end up destroying him in the long run. That could get him kicked out of school. That could get him thrown in jail.

Finals roll around, and you manage to pass all of them without issue, even getting grades above the class average. You feel fantastic, like your long term goals might actually be attainable. You have a long road ahead of you, but your GPA at the end of the year is more than enough to raise your confidence.

Mike asks you to come back to his house for the couple weeks between the end of the semester and the start of your summer courses, but you turn him down, too scared of what might happen while you’re there. Acting like a couple in front of his parents will only exacerbate his feelings as well as yours, and you’d like to avoid that as best you can.

Even now as you’re standing outside by the Jeep, he tries to persuade you one last time, almost pleading, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Miche, I’m sure,” you tell him, trying to stay stern, but it’s hard when his sea glass eyes light up at the sound of his real name. It’s a habit you’ve gotten into, a bad one considering how much he likes it. How much you like it. “I already told you I wanna spend the free time I have at mom’s. I need to check up on her and… Probably clean, honestly.”

He lets out a little grunt of disappointment, then nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

“You saw what she’s like,” you remind him. “Someone needs to drop in every once in a while to make sure she isn’t, like, wasting away or something.”

“Makes sense. I’ll be bummed, though.”

“Be bummed all you want,” you smile. “I’ll probably still bother you over break. A lot.”

He sounds terribly sincere when he mumbles, “You never bother me.” It makes your stomach flip in the way you do not enjoy.

Mike sighs, taking in one of those deep breaths that makes his broad chest rise then fall, calling attention to it and making you bite your bottom lip.

“Alright, I should get going,” he concedes, bending down to kiss you too deeply for simple friends with benefits. It doesn’t stop you from humming into his mouth and smiling against him. You hold him by the back of his neck as he pulls your body close to his, his voice muffled when he tells you mischievously, “Don’t forget to send pictures.”

It makes you laugh, and you lean back to swipe your tongue over his lips so that he groans and chases after you.

“I promise I will. Perv.” The beating sun is nothing in comparison to the way your body heats at the thought. You’ve sent him nudes before, but the idea of him looking at them from hours away, fisting his cock as he admires your body through his phone… It makes seeing him off even harder.

After a couple more softer kisses, Mike swings into the Wrangler and pulls out of the lot. You stand in his parking space and watch him until he’s out of sight, then walk back to your dorm, dragging your feet the whole way.

You only stay at your mom’s house for a week, and just like you predicted, you spend most of it cleaning. She thanks you the whole time but makes excuses in between. You just reassure her that you don’t mind even though you do. She really should see a therapist and sort out the depression she’s been stuck in for a few years now, but telling someone they need professional help is easier said than done.

Sleeping in your old bed is much harder this time around. You're all too aware of the weight that isn't behind you, and most nights you lay awake for at least a couple of hours trying to imagine it.

Like you’d promised, you send him a few pictures, some of them just lewd selfies with your tits pouring out of the cups of your bra, but others are of your naked body in the bathtub, sometimes a shot of you with your hand between your legs. It feels wrong to touch yourself in your childhood home, but it’s necessary, especially when Mike sends you a few pictures of his own—one with his torso on display, defined abs absolutely mouthwatering and the V of his hips suggestively leading into mesh shorts. Another is of him in the gray joggers he wears all the time, the ones that always show off his cock.

He’s so fucking hot it atually hurts, makes your pussy throb as you crave his touch. It’s an awful feeling honestly, but even worse than that is the way you miss him. You aren’t supposed to miss him. You’re just supposed to be friends who have sex. Nothing more than that.

It's why you’re glad to go back to school. Your classes will distract you, keep you from thinking about him too much. The semester is shorter during the summer, so you have to work even harder than you do during fall and spring. You don’t really think it’ll be a problem since you’re trying to cram your brain full of anything other than Mike which is great motivation for studying.

Nothing is gonna get you off track, you tell yourself. Nothing will interfere with your studies. That’s the plan.

Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger.

* You're studying in the library. It seems like you spend most of your time here, nice and quiet and empty. The campus isn't nearly as busy in the summer as it is during the rest of the school year. No parties, no sporting events, just you alone with your books.

It's nice. Most of the time. A little boring but mostly nice.

Your eyes are getting tired, and when you check your phone, you realize why. It's almost eleven PM, meaning you've been studying for about six hours. You've had longer nights, usually spent on the phone getting quizzed on the information you're learning with a few breaks in between, but that wasn't the case tonight as Mike had to spend the day with family from out of town.

It's okay. You're supposed to be distancing yourself anyway.

Taking a deep breath, you pack up your books and slide your laptop into your bag, then stand and swing it over your shoulder.

The strap is too long. The bag swings too hard, and your heart sinks when you hear a little grunt followed by a, "Agh, hot!"

Turning with wide eyes, you immediately start apologizing, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, fuck, I'm so sorry!"

A head of light blond hair looks up from the brown stain on his white t-shirt, icy blue eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed glasses, but when he sees the mortification on your face, his own expression softens, and he chuckles.

"It's fine. You can calm down."

You're still breathing heavily, guilt making your hands shake, but he really doesn't look angry. In fact, he's grinning now, eyebrows raised like he's amused.

The longer you stare at him, the more familiar he looks. You're pretty sure you've seen him before. Many times before, actually, and then it clicks that this guy is on the front page of the school website. You see him every fucking time you log in, looking much more stern than he does now. Baseball hat and jersey, mitt on one hand as he hides his other in it, and yeah, you know him.

"You're Zeke Jaeger."

He makes a face, scrunching his nose up and squinting. "Yeeeeah, I guess I am."

Best pitcher in the college league despite being a sophomore like you. He's beaten the records of some major league players.

You don't give a fuck about baseball, have never even been to any of the school's games, but you've been hearing about Zeke since the last season. You've learned to tune it out because, again, no shits given (and also you're much more partial to lacrosse now), but he's hard to ignore when he's staring you right in the face.

"Well, uh," you try to act casual. It's something you're pretty good at these days. "Cool."

He snorts, picking his shirt off his chest to air it out like it'll help, then says, "I don't know your name, though."

You run your tongue over your teeth, wondering why he cares, then introduce yourself.

"Oh, you're Zacharias' little girlfriend, aren't you?"

Your stomach flips at the mention of him.

"We're not dating."

Zeke cocks his head to the side. "No?"

"No. Just friends."

He hums but doesn't say anything, and your eyes are once again drawn to his chest as he fans over the stain.

"Okay, let me get you a new shirt or something," you try.

He laughs again. "I highly doubt you've got a men's shirt tucked in that bag of yours, sweetheart."

"I—" you pout for a second, mumble, "Okay, yeah, fair point."

"Another coffee, though," he muses out loud. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

You shoot him a finger gun and smack your lips. "On it. Where do you get coffee at eleven o'clock?"

"I'll walk with you," he states more than offers.

Then, you're both leaving the library, leaving campus, and going to a little 24 hour cafe where you blow on lattes and cover the basics about each other—philosophy major, valedictorian of his high school class, playing baseball since age seven, etc. You should sleep. You should get ready for another long day of studying.

But it's hard to make good decisions when Zeke Jaeger is smirking at you from across the table like you're the most interesting thing he's ever seen.

* Zeke gets your number that night. You're not exactly sure how, but he does.

Then he doesn’t text you for three days. It doesn’t bother you that much. You figure he has other things to focus on. He’s on campus to take a couple courses and practice for the upcoming season, so he’s probably just busy. If that night had just been a one-off, it’s fine with you. It was cool to talk to him, but your heart isn’t broken.

These are all the thoughts and justifications running through your head when you’re in class on Tuesday and your phone lights up during the PowerPoint lecture. You glance down, expecting Mike or Hitch, but it’s an unknown number instead. Eyes flicking from the projection screen to your much tinier one, you slide to open the message and chew on your lip.

Hey, it’s Zeke. You have classes this afternoon?

You do not. And, you are too quick to tell him that.

He takes you to a little Mom and Pop restaurant, too far to walk so you end up riding in the black Bronco he drives, trying to convince yourself that it definitely does not make him any more attractive to you. Because you aren’t attracted to him in the first place. Right?

You sit at a table for two eating paninis and fruit. Zeke asks how classes are going, you ask about practice, and as you talk, he gets that look in his eyes again, like you amuse him or interest him or something.

It confuses you, and for a moment, you’re taken back to last fall at that first Pi Kappa Alpha party, the one you met Mike at when he tried to get you to shotgun a beer. God, he had been so obnoxious back then, always following you around and flirting and—

“You listening, sweetheart?”

Your eyes refocus on the man in front of you, his raised eyebrows and little smirk. “Looks like you’re a million miles away. Sorry if I’m boring you.”

“No, no,” you try to defend. “I just zoned out for a second. Realized I, uh, got an answer wrong on the quiz I took today.”

“That sucks,” he hums. “Anyway, I can stop talking about baseball.”

“It’s okay. Just go over the last, like, ten seconds,” you say with a laugh, hoping your cheeks will stop burning sooner rather than later.

Zeke chuckles and does just that, doesn’t seem irritated or put out. He tells you about how he has a new trainer this year to warm him up and make sure his throwing arm is in top shape. “I hope he’s as good as my last. Colt was always on it, knew exactly how hot to make the warm compresses and how cold to make the ice packs. Stuff like that. He learned my needs.”

You both laugh, and if it was anyone else, you’d have an innuendo sliding off your tongue, but for some reason, you don’t think Zeke would want to hear it, like he’d be unimpressed with your vulgar humor.

Back at the college, he drives you to your dorm, explaining that he lives in the apartments on the other side of campus and wouldn’t want to make you walk that far. Then, as you slide out of the Bronco, he stops you with a smooth, “Hey,” that makes you look over your shoulder at him. “Make sure you save my number in your phone, okay? I’ll text you soon.”

The way your stomach flips is worrisome, a feeling you’re only used to when you’re with…

“Yeah, okay.”

He grins widely and nods, then waits for you to get a good distance away from the car before driving off.

No distractions, you’d said. It’ll be good for your focus, you’d said.

What a fucking joke.

Mike has to help you with some homework that weekend. You can hear his smile through the phone, snort when he makes his little nerd jokes, then sigh when he gets to the actual subject and explains it to you without a problem. His brain is incredible, and when you think about it too hard, it makes you warm inside.

“You’re so fucking smart. Why don’t you let people know?”

“Maybe I just want you to know,” he chuckles. “You think I wanna spend my days tutoring every idiot who needs help?”

“Miche, did you just call me an idiot?”

You hear another breathy laugh followed by a sigh. “I have many, many names for you, but ‘idiot’ isn’t one of them.”

“Oh yeah?” You play. “And, what might those other names be?”

He lists a few, all of them making your face flush and your body tingle, and before you know it, you’ve got your pants off and your fingers between your legs. You can hear Mike’s heavy breathing on the other end, the wet sound of his hand stroking his lubricated cock, and when you reach your climax, you moan out your usual, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Miche.”

He tumbles down right behind you, panting and telling you in a voice of disbelief, “Jesus, it just keeps coming.” It makes the pulses of your orgasm even stronger, remembrance of all the times he’s painted you in white, and God, you are so ready for him to get back to the school.

Then, there’s the voice in the back of your head that makes you think maybe it’s better that he’s gone for now, that he might not be too pleased that you’re spending time with another guy. But, it’s not like things with Zeke are going anywhere. You wouldn’t even call him a friend. You text on and off, have brunch or lunch or coffee depending on the time of day.

And, yeah, he calls you pet names, tells you that you look nice even when you’re just in leggings and a t-shirt, talks about his family and…

Okay, it could potentially lead to something more, but it’s only been a week, and considering his golden boy status, he could have anyone he wants, so why would he even be interested in you in any way, shape, or form?

Naturally, your thoughts circle back to Mike and the way he could have any girl on his arm, but he still chooses to spend time with you. To fuck you. To nearly confess his feelings to you. You have to wonder if you’re emitting some kind of scent or beacon, if there’s a sign hanging above your head with an arrow pointing down. Sports gods, come get a piece.

If only you’d never gone to that party. If you had just kept your head down like you had freshman year. Your life would be so much easier now.

But now you’re in Zeke’s apartment listening to him rant about some philosopher you’ve never even heard of. He’s gesturing with his hands, flipping curling, blond bangs from his face, and whenever he pauses to think, he scratches his beard. He’s very fond of the white t-shirts and jeans get-up, sometimes switches it up and wears a button down under a sweater vest. Both looks are becoming of him no matter how much you try to deny it, but when he drops down onto the couch next to you and peers into your god damn soul with those piercing, blue eyes, you have to choke back a dreamy sigh.

What is happening to you?

“So, what do you think about it?” He asks, looking hopeful that you might have some insight on this matter.

But, you simply laugh and shake your head. “Zeke,” you start. “I’m gonna be real honest with you here. I didn’t understand a fucking thing you just said.”

You assume he’ll be disappointed, maybe tire of you since you can’t be as intellectually stimulating as he’d like you to, but Zeke exhales in a lighthearted sort of way, shows one of those amused smiles, and tells you, “You’re cute.”

Anyone else and you would have snapped back, something along the lines of, don’t fucking patronize me, but with Zeke, all you can do is stare at him and let your lips part, silently asking for something you won’t speak out loud.

His gaze moves to your mouth for a split second. That soft smile turns into one of his famous smirks. Then, he’s back on his feet and asking, “You wanna go to dinner?”

You are more than relieved at the shift in atmosphere, but your heart is still beating too hard as you follow him downstairs and to his car.

* Summer is passing quickly. Too quickly. The eleven week classes are kicking your ass, or are close to kicking your ass. Lucky for you, you have your own private tutor just a call or text away. Mike helps you, and you laugh and goof around, shoot off innuendo after innuendo, but the phone sex slows to a halt eventually. You tell him that you’re tired, and you are. It isn’t a lie. But, it also isn’t the full truth.

Between classes when you could be resting, you’re eating out with Zeke. Or, watching him and the rest of the baseball team practice for the upcoming season. Or, sitting in his apartment, watching movies and chatting about all manner of things. Nothing important, of course—there’s no diving deep into your life story like you had done with Mike over Spring Break, but Zeke still learns the little things about you. Why you’re majoring in geosciences and how you became good friends with some of the Pike guys. You don’t give him the full details on that one—that you got blackout drunk and fucked Mike and just couldn’t stop. You don’t think Zeke would be interested in hearing about it anyway.

You learn a bit about his dad and stepmom, the latter of whom he isn’t very fond of. He also has a little brother who’ll be attending the college starting this fall, and he’s interested in the Greek life. Naturally, you build PKA up. Even if there are some… Problematic people in the house, there are also a lot of really good guys.

“I’ll make sure to pass it along to him,” Zeke tells you one evening as you’re both sprawled on the couch, backs against the armrests as you face each other. It’s how he seems to prefer to sit when the TV isn’t on. When you asked him why, he had told you, “Just like looking at you,” and you didn’t know how to respond. You still don’t know how to respond.

“Eren thinkin’ about joining any sports?” You ask now. “Does baseball run in the family or anything?”

Zeke snorts. “Kid couldn’t hit a baseball even if it was on one of the t-ball stands.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

“I would say he’s more academically inclined, but,” Zeke sighs. “That would be a lie.”

You can never tell if he actually likes his brother. Most of the time he complains about him, but every once in a while he’ll bring up something cute Eren did as a little boy, and you see a fond glimmer in his light eyes.

“Anyway,” Zeke waves off the subject and transitions to a new one—one that makes your stomach drop. “Are you gonna tell Zacharias about us?”

You choke on your own spit, leaning forward to cough a couple times, then challenge him with a nervous laugh, “I wasn’t aware there was anything to tell him.”

Zeke tilts his head, mouth pulling up as he raises his eyebrows. “Come on,” he chuckles.

“Come on, what?” You frown. If you were with Mike, you both would have died at that. Come on my face, you can hear him say, and you have to fight a smile because there’s absolutely no way you could explain that to the man in front of you.

“You don’t have to play coy, sweetheart. We both know there’s something going on between us.” He says it with such confidence that even if he wasn’t right you wouldn’t be able to argue with him. The assumption should annoy you, should make you scoff and leave, but instead you sit there staring, caught up in his gaze and cocky grin.

“I—”

“It’s okay, you know. Not like you’re alone in this.”

Those questions swim through your mind again, all the insecurities that you’ve been sorting through with Mike, but now that voice is louder because that sense of trust hasn’t formed yet. You’ve only connected with Zeke over meals and movies. It sounds domestic, but despite your apparently obvious attraction to him, you still don’t feel like you really know him.

But, he draws you in, like a moth to a flame. You can’t help it. There’s just something about him that makes you want him to like you, like you want to impress him, like you want to be good for him. You’ve been trying to ignore those thoughts, but they’re much harder to fight now that you’re sitting in front of him, taking in his wavy hair and pale blue eyes, that ever present smirk on his face, the curve of his neck that disappears into his shirt.

He could just want sex. He could just want a fling. Wait for everyone to get back on campus and drop you for another girl. You tell yourself you wouldn’t care; you’re good at keeping things casual.

Wouldn’t it be fun to be his arm candy for a while, though? Let people look at you and whisper louder than they did when they’d see you and Mike together? You don’t care about status, about being in the spotlight. It’s more for the experience, dating someone who could teach you things.

Mike teaches you things, that voice pops up again. He’s been helping you with your work for almost a year now. You can’t just overlook that.

“What, are you weighing the pros and cons over there or something?”

You snort. “Maybe. We still don’t really know each other all that well, Zeke.”

“Might I remind you that we’ve been hanging out all summer? Did you honestly think it wouldn’t lead to anything more?”

“Honestly,” you mimic, “I never thought you’d be interested.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His brow furrows like he’s genuinely confused. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cute.”

God, you can’t even count how many times he’s called you ‘cute’, how many times it’s made you blush over the last several weeks, just like it does now.

Then, he pushes, “Do you not find me at—”

“Of course I do,” you cut him off. “I don’t know who doesn’t, which is exactly why I don’t know where this is coming from.”

Zeke sighs like he’s annoyed, then turns the hand on his thigh palm up and beckons you with two fingers. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here.”

Your blood pressure spikes, breaths coming in little puffs that have no way of getting to your brain. It’s probably why you obey, rolling to your knees and clumsily crawling over to him. You stop short, right between his bent knees, but Zeke sits up, straightens his legs, and pulls you into his lap.

More of that precious air leaves your lungs as you exhale too sharply, staring at him with huge eyes. You don’t know what’s happening, can’t believe it’s happening. It doesn’t feel real even as you rest your hands on his shoulders, even when he holds your hips and pulls you so that your full weight is on him, but fuck, you can’t say anything. You can’t make a sound. All you can do is wait for him to make his next move.

“Why do you look scared?” His voice is just above a whisper, but at this proximity you can hear him without a problem.

“I don’t have a lot of experience sitting in men’s laps,” you manage, trying to keep your usual careless tone, but you doubt it works.

“For some reason I don’t believe that.”

You rear back, actually offended. “Excuse m—”

That ire, however, melts away as quickly as it arose. Zeke slides fingers up your waist, all the way to the back of your neck to bring your face to his—your lips to his.

He feels different, not at all what you’re used to. His kiss is more demanding, hungry, and God, you still can’t breathe, can’t think straight because his tongue is moving past your lips, and you’re letting it, letting him taste you as your fingertips dig into the flesh of his shoulders. You lift yourself from him just a little only for Zeke to pull you back down with the hand still gripping your hip. He makes sure you feel him when he grinds up into you, the zipper of his jeans rubbing you through your little shorts so that you gasp into his mouth.

You both stay like that for what feels like a fucking eternity, biting and sucking on lips, stroking over each others’ tongues until you absolutely have to break apart. You’re panting now, body still tense on top of his, and Zeke stares at you with half-lidded eyes and shows the ghost of a smile.

“Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

The statement sets you on fire, so much so that all you can do is whimper quietly and lean in for more.

And, as you get lost in Zeke Jaeger, you decide for yourself.

I need to tell Mike

[ next ]

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #mels prima vista

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julesclues · 4 years ago

Text

I’ll Never Hate You

Warnings: language and the obvious walking dead gore

Word count: 4.41k

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x reader

Summary: you and Daryl go on a supply run, and you get trapped by walkers. You wind up saving daryl’s life but get hurt in the mean time. He gets mad at you for risking your life for him. (Takes place in the prison, pre-governor)

You and Daryl had met on Hershel’s farm. You were very fond of the Greene family, even before the outbreak. So when things went to shit, you stuck with them. When Rick and his group came when Carl got shot, you had instantly connected with Daryl. Sure, Daryl had been a bit distant because he had trouble opening up to new people. But for some reason he thought you were different. In a good way.

Now a couple months later, you two were best friends. Sure, you might’ve developed a small crush on the younger Dixon man. But it was better than feeling nothing in days like these. It made you feel human. You guys were now at a prison and honestly, things couldn’t be better. Lori had passed away a couple weeks ago, but Judith was born. And in your eyes, she was a blessing in a world like this. Daryl and Rick had been the two who usually went on supply runs but ever since Lori died, Rick hasn’t been himself. So, you took his place. It’s been great, too. You and Daryl always were cautious and took care of each other, coming back with a lot of supplies too. But today.. today was different. Today you two had ran into a little problem.

You had spotted a grocery store that was actually still quite stocked. “Dixon,” you say, hitting his shoulder. He turns to you and tilts his head a bit. “What?” His raspy voice asks. “There’s a grocery store. There’s bound to be some baby formula in there.” He hums in agreement and you both head over there, watching your surroundings for any walkers. You two look through the windows. It looks empty, so you walk towards the front door. As you push it open, Daryl tightens his grip on his crossbow and follows closely behind you. “Alright, let’s be quick,” you whisper, and he nods. You both had a list of things you needed to get, but food for both the adults and the baby were the most important. After 20 minutes of searching, you finally find the formula. But it’s high up on the shelf that you nor Daryl would be able to reach. “Screw it,” you whisper to yourself, and start to climb the shelf. “Hey!” Daryl yells, making you turn your head to him. “What? I’m trying to get the formula!” You yell back, repositioning yourself. “Ugh Y/n just..” Daryl looks around, praying that there’s no walkers. “Just hurry up, okay?” You nod as you grunt and finally make it to the top of the shelf. You sit up there, looking down to Daryl. “See? I’m okay! Don’t wor–“ you’re cut off after hear a loud groan from the other side of the store. “Shit,” you whisper, as daryl’s head turns quickly toward the noise. He looks back at you, urging you to hurry up and get down. You pack as much baby food into your bag as you can, darting your eyes between the walker in the other isle and Daryl right below you. “Y/n, get down here now! We gotta go,” daryl whispers, trying hard not to get the attention of the walker. You jump down and reunite with him. “Let’s go,” you exclaim, following him to the exit. As you’re walking down the isle behind him, something grabs his ankle and he falls to the ground.

“Daryl!” You look down and grab your knife, stabbing the walkers arm. It pulls away from Daryl, groaning in pain. “You alright?” Before he could respond, 1 walker turns into 3, and then 3 turns into 6. Soon you two were surrounded, having no choice but to fend for yourselves. You both go back to back. Looking over your shoulder at him, he nods and you take that as signal to start fighting. He shoots his arrows through the heads of the walkers as you get up close and personal with your knife. Killing off your walkers, you turn to him just as his last walker hits the ground. He pulls out the arrow from the walkers head with a grunt. “Ya a’right?” He asks, picking up his bag from the floor. “As good as I can be,” you admit. “Let’s get out of here.” Walking toward the exit after that rough encounter, you get lost in your thoughts. You weren’t thinking about anything particular. Just how life was before the outbreak. You started to wonder if you and Daryl would have ever found each other. It’s crazy how the world works.

A loud crash in front of you causes you to snap back to reality. Glass from the window behind Daryl had broke. 3 pairs of hands grab him, as he drops his bow and struggles to get away from them. You panic, turning your head to behind you as you hear more of them approach. “Get outta here y/n!” Daryl yells, but you turn and shake your head. “No way! I’m not leaving you!” He kicks and struggles to grab his knife from pocket. “Y/n! Run, now!” He yells, but you ignore him. No way you’re leaving him to just die. You bend down and pick up his crossbow, starting to shoot the walkers coming up behind you guys. “Just don’t get bit Dixon! Please for the love of god, just don’t get bit!” You kept repeating the words, trying your best to defeat the walkers by yourself. You shot one right between the eyes, and he was dead before he hit the ground. But with 2 left and no more arrows, you began to panic. Your quickly turn to see Daryl stuggling to get the walkers off of him.

You run up to the other two in front of you and stab one in the forehead as you kick the other one away from you. It falls to the ground and you get on top of it, stabbing it in the head a couple times. Blood splatters all over you. You wipe your forehead as you hear Daryl grunt in pain. You quickly get up and run around so you’re outside behind the walkers in the window. “Come and get me motherfuckers!” They all moan, letting go of Daryl to get to you. “Shit,” you whisper as your eyes go wide. You stab one in the chest but lose your knife as it sticks to him. Weaponless, you slowly back up. Your back hits a tree, scratching your side. Pain shoots up your body but your gaze doesn’t turn away from them. One of the walkers lunges itself toward you, causing you to hold your forearm up against it. The other two are slowly making its way toward you, as you cry in pain and fear.

“Daryl!” You scream, hoping that he’s okay and would come to your rescue. But he was no where to be found. As the other 2 approach, you hold up your other hand to hold one away and your foot to kick the other one. You thought you were going to die. That this was it. At least you got that baby food for Judith. You close your eyes, and the pain in your side slowly goes away. You heard the walker groan and felt it’s breath so close to your face. Your breathing began to pick up and your face was scrunched up. But before any pain from a bite could come, you heard the swoosh of an arrow hit the walker you were holding with your foot. Your leg drops with it as your eyes divert to the archer running towards you with his bow still aimed at the biters. “Hey ya shits! Get away from her!” The walker you were holding with your forearm turns around but the other one remains attached to you. Daryl puts his bow to his side as he rips the knife from the walkers chest, and then plunges it in his forehead instead. With the other walker you had, he does the same thing, and you see the knife come out the other side as some of its brains gets in your hair. You pant along side him when he comes up in front of you.

“Thanks for the assist,” you chuckle, but his gaze stays firm and serious. “Are you okay?” Ignoring your question, he turns the blade of the knife so he’s now holding the sharp part. Grabbing the knife, you try to slow down your breathing. You could feel he was mad, but you thought it was because of the walkers. He goes to walk away but he turns quickly and pushes you up against the tree. “What’s the matter with ya, huh?” He snaps, making you confused and furrow your eyebrows. “I told ya to run! But instead, ya be a goddamn idiot and almost get ya self killed? And for what? For nothing! This isn’t a game y/n!” You push him away with a grunt and throw your bag on the floor. “What? You think I did that for shits and giggles?!” You yell back, panting. “It wasn’t for nothing Daryl! You were going to die if I didn’t do something! You think I was just going to watch as walkers killed you? Fuck you for thinking I did that for fun! I almost died and so did you! But that’s what the world is now. It’s almost dying for some baby formula and canned corn!” He doesn’t respond, nor does he break the eye contact with you. He runs his hand down his face and shakes his head. “Ya life is more important! Don’t go and do that shit again! It’s not right!” With that, he picks up both your bag and his, making his way to the car you two came him. You stay in your spot for a couple seconds before following far behind him. This was going to be one awkward car ride.

As you walk to the car, you wince in pain and look down at your life side. You slowly lift up your shirt and see the blood slowly pouring out. You hold your side and walk toward the car, groaning softly as you sit down in the passenger seat. Daryl was putting the bags in the backseat in silence. He would mumble something under his breath from time to time, but you tried not to listen. You didn’t wanna talk to him right now. He gets in the drivers seat and you turn your head so you’re looking outside the window. All you had to do was make it through this 20 minute car ride and you would be free from the silence and awkwardness. He starts the car and accelerates in silence. With every bump you guys hit, your body would jerk forward in pain. Soon, Daryl started to catch on. “What’s wrong with ya? Ya hurt or somethin’?” You sigh and lift up your shirt so he can see your scratch. He instantly steps on the breaks, making you throw your hands out on the dashboard. “What’s the matter with you?!” You yell, turning toward him. “Let me see it,” he says calmly, reaching for you. But you smack his hand and get out of the car. “Y/n–“

“I’m walking.” You start to walk and Daryl slowly accelerates, matching your speed while looking at you and then the road with each passing minute. “Was it from a walker?” He asks with concern, but he tries to hide it. He wasn’t very doing a good job. “No,” you say nonchalantly. “A tree. The branch got me.”

“Y/n just let me see it. Please.” You stop walking and look at him. “Why can’t you take a hint and leave me alone?!” You yell, throwing your bag in the passengers seat and slamming the door shut. Daryl lowers the window and rolls his eyes. “Why?!”

“Because I’m mad at you!”

“Why are ya mad?!”

“Because I am, okay?”

“But why?”

“Because I almost died for you and now you’re pissed at me! You always do this, it’s so infuriating!”

Daryl stops the car and you stop walking almost instantly. He gets out and looks you up and down. “Ya almost died,” he says slowly. “Dead, y/n. Gone forever, don’t ya understand that?” You stay silent and look down at the ground. “Yeah Daryl, I get it. I’m not a kid. But why are you mad that I almost died? If I did, wouldn’t have been for nothing.” He shakes his head and stomps on the ground. “Cause I was scared, okay? Ya almost died and I was scared.” You chuckle and look away, trying hard to ignore the flutters in your stomach. “Daryl Dixon scared? Never.” You try to call his bluff but he looks down at your feet for a couple seconds, like he was thinking about something intensely. He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Just let me see the damn wound.” You knew he was still mad and a short conversation wasn’t going to make that all go away. But the pain was getting worse so you had no choice but to show him. You weren’t going to let your stubbornness get you killed. You roll up your shirt and Daryl touches it softly, making you yell in pain.

“Dammit!” You wince, pulling away from Daryl. “Woah Y/n.. that’s bad. We gotta get ya back to Hershel or ya gon’ bleed out. Can you walk?” Daryl asks, but his voice fades as you begin to feel faint. “Daryl,” you whisper, falling into him. “Ah, shit,” you hear him curse, as he lifts you up bridal style, and carries you back to the car. “Don’t you dare die L/n. I ain’t watching ya become no walker.” You chuckle softly and try to regain your consciousness, but it’s no use. “N-never that, Dixon,” you mumble. Shortly after, you black out.

You wake up back at the prison, in one of the cells. You look around and realize that you’re actually in Daryl’s cell. The crossbow and jacket in the corner give that away almost instantly. Then there’s the drawing on the wall that Carl made him when he was younger. For some reason, Daryl carries it every time we find a different place, and hangs it up. You found it adorable. Groaning, you sit up and hold your head. It was pounding, you thought your brain was about to come out of your ears. You swing your feet so they’re off the bed and find the strength to stand up. Wobbling a bit, you grab the side of the bunk bed and stableize yourself. As you’re doing that, Maggie walks into the cell and helps you. “Woah, I got ya,” she says, and you smile at her. “Where’s Daryl?” You ask, almost instantly. You wanted to thank him for saving your life. If he hadn’t got to the prison as quick as he did or force you to show him your injury, you would’ve died. “Outside in the guard tower,” she answers. You regain stability and start to walk but her grip on you prevents you from going anywhere. “Where are ya going?” She asks concerningly. “To see him,” you say with a hint of pain lingering in your voice. “Not in this condition. Besides, he looked pissed and worried all in one when he got here with ya last night,” she exclaims, but you push her away slightly and continue to limp out the cell. “I need to see him,” you admit. All she does is sigh and stand out of your way. “Fine,” she says, her southern accent jumping out a little more. “I’ll be fine,” you smile. You pat her shoulder in reassurance, and then grab your side for support.

You walk outside and hold your arm up to block the sun. It was blazing hot. You were surprised the walkers along the gate didn’t burst into flames. Making your way to the guard tower, you try to remember the events that took place last night. You remembered he was mad at you, so you decided to make sure your word choices were very precise when you got up there. Making it to the guard tower, you saw Daryl up top, keeping watch. He wasn’t looking your way, but you didn’t want to distract him so you just walked inside. The door opens with a loud creak, catching the attention of Daryl. But before he could realize who it is, you’re already inside and struggling to walk up the many stairs.

You pant, feeling your side hurt with each stair you climb. But you didn’t care. You wanted to talk to Daryl. To hug him again. Just to be in his presence, even if you two didn’t speak. Finally making it up the stairs, you pant in tiredness. Daryl’s eyes are already on you as they go wide. “Y/n?” He questions, walking up to you. He helps guide you to a chair that he was standing next to while he was on watch. “What’re ya doing here? You’re supposed ta’ be restin’,” he says concerningly. You smile and look out at the the walkers past the gate. “Thank you,” you blurt out. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but you continue to talk. “Yeah well don’t be getting used to it. Don’t want ya going out of the prison anymore.” You roll your eyes and turn to him. “Daryl you can’t tell me what to do. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.” You try to remain calm, but it angered you that Daryl was trying to control what you did and didn’t do. Sure, you knew he was just trying to protect you and make sure the same mistake doesn’t happen again, but you hated it.

“Well ya almost got ya self killed yesterday! No way ya taking that chance again,” he says, crossing his arms and putting down the rifle. You scoff and stand up as quickly as you could. “Listen to me Dixon,” you say roughly, putting the tip of your finger on his chest. “I do what I want, when I want, and how I want. This is the world we live in now! Whether you like it or not, we’re going to run into some problems. But we can’t run from them. I almost died, yeah. So did you. But you don’t see me yelling at you to not go on runs anymore. We don’t get to choose if we do or not. We need to, for the sake of the group.”

“It’s different y/n. You’re different than me. I can’t–“

“I wasn’t done talking Daryl,” you say, interrupting him. He stops talking as you continue. “You didn’t purposely get caught by those walkers. It’s not like you wanted me to get hurt. Everything was so sudden, and yet you reacted in the best way you could. You saved my life Daryl. I’m alive because of you. I think that counts for something, don’t you? So stop getting mad at me for helping you because that’s what we do! We help each other! You don’t get to hate me because I saved you! That’s not right and you know it.” You pant, sitting back down because your side started to hurt once more. He stays silent for a minute, before turning to look at the walkers by the fence in the distance. “Ya think I hate you?” He whispers, making you turn to him. But he continues to look straight, not daring to make eye contact with you.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, biting the inside of your cheek. “Please don’t hate me,” you whisper sadly. This causes Daryl to look at you, his heart breaking almost instantly. He couldn’t take how sad you looked. He was just so scared of losing you. And the fact that yesterday that almost happened? He just felt so out of control and scared. You were the only thing keeping him going. You and little ass kicker, that is. He holds out his hand and grabs your face. “I’ll never hate you,” he whispers, walking closer to you. You sink into his hand and close your eyes slowly. “Promise?” You ask in a whisper. “Promise,” he repeats in the same tone. You open your eyes back again, and instantly make eye contact with the archer. You felt so lucky to have him. Have him protecting you, whether it be inside the walls or outside. Your heart skips a beat as he stares down at you. You look down, hoping to hide the blush that rose up to your cheeks.

He removes his hand from your cheek and picks his crossbow back up. “W-well,” you stutter, clearing your throat. “I’ll leave you to lookout.” You get up to leave, but he puts a hand on your shoulder. “Why don’t ya stay? Rest here if ya want,” he mumbles, bitting the inside of his cheek. “Okay,” you agree, plopping back down into the seat. “I’d like that.”

A couple hours pass since Daryl asked you to stay. It had turned into night, and you yawned, struggling to keep your eyes open. Daryl noticed and huffed, standing up straight. “Maybe we should get back, huh?” He asks, but it’s more like a demand than a question. You nod, standing up and hissing silently. From sitting so long, the pain in your side had felt tense and sore. “Ya a’ight?” Daryl asks with a hint of conern in his southern accent. You smile with a slight nod, heading down the stairs of the guard tower as he followed you. Making it outside, the wind hits your face and you close your eyes. It felt nice not being stuffed in that tiny guard tower anymore. You loved being with Daryl, but even you needed open space at some point.

You and Daryl begin walking back to the prison, taking it slow since you could only go so fast. He stayed by your side the entire time, though he could’ve easily made it back to the prison by now. You looked over at him but his gaze was pointed toward the prison. You took in his features. His hair fell in front of his face, just above his eyes. You wanted to push it away and run your hands through his hair. Though it probably hasn’t been washed in a couple days, it looks very soft, and as if it smelled good as well. Daryl felt your eyes on his and turned his head in your direction, causing you to smile at getting caught. You weren’t embarrassed, you were simply just observing the man you trusted. Daryl smirked, and felt his heart speeding up. Though he’d never admit it to you, let alone himself, he considered you his best friend. The only one out of the group he could fully trust. You could make a decision that he didn’t agree with at all, but he would still go with it. But he knew you wanted what was best for the group. For him.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” He asks you, pushing the door open to the prison. You go in first, turning back to him as he shuts the door behind him. “You.” His eyebrows perk up at your confident yet short answer, and you chuckle. Your laugh was music to his ears. It was much better than your cries of pain, or the groans of the walkers outside. He would rather listen to your laugh than anything else in the world. He loved it.

He walked you back to your cell, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from smiling. You took off your shoes almost instantly, and layed down with a sigh on the bottom bunk. Daryl pulled a chair next to your bed, sitting down with his legs open and his arms resting on his legs. He leaned forward, waiting for the silence to stop. “Thank you again for today,” you whisper, and he smiles quickly. “Was nothin’,” he says quickly and quietly. “Just sorry ya got hurt.” You shake your head and close your eyes, feeling his hard gaze never leave you. “It wasn’t your fault,” you reassure him. “I know,” he replies sadly. You knew he didn’t believe that fully, but you made it your mission to make him believe it. One day.

You open your eyes again, seeing his eyes linger on yours. “Ya hairs a mess,” he jokes, making you giggle. You push the baby hairs out of your face and look up at him. “Am I pretty again?” You joke back, but all he does is smile and look away. “Daryl?” You whisper, making him look back at you. “Yeah?” He whispers back. You felt like it was just the two of you again the world. In a way, it was. “I like you,” you say quickly, biting the inside of your cheek in nervousness. He tilts his head in confusion. “I would hope so,” he chuckles. You realized he didn’t understand what you really meant. “Daryl, no. I-I mean that.. it’s more than a like.” You were stuttering like a teenager with a stupid crush. “I suck at this,” you chuckle softly, hiding your face in your hands.

You felt his remove your hands with his, now towering over you. “Daryl?” You murmur, feeling your heart rate speed up. It felt like it was going a mile a minute. “Ya love me?” He asks, but all you can do is nod. “Then can I kiss ya?” Ypu widen your eyes in surprise, before nodding once more. You felt as if you were in a dream. He kisses you softly by grabbing both sides on your face. You kiss him back, smiling into the kiss. He starts kissing you more roughly, now hovering over you.

“Woah..”

You and Daryl snap away from each other, looking in the doorway. Maggie stood there with a basket of laundry under her armpit. She was smirking and you closed your eyes, smiling widely. “Maggie! Get outta here!” Daryl yells, throwing a rag at her. She laughs and walks away while saying, “I knew it!”

Daryl looks back down at you and smirks. “Where were we?” He kissing you roughly again, and you close your eyes in happiness. The world had ended and a new one had began. It sucked, but if it didn’t happen, you wouldn’t have found Daryl. And he wouldn’t have found you.

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jayeray-hq · 3 years ago

Text

Br(Atsumu)

Hey everyone! This is the piece for @maizumis sfw brat collab! It's 100% sfw and if you enjoy it make sure to check out the Masterlist!

If you like this and want to see more of my writing for Atsumu check out my Character Masterlist!

Post Time Skip/Manga Ending Spoilers!

Warnings: None all Fluff

You watched amused as Atsumu slumped over the counter of his brother’s restaurant, arms pressed to his sides dejectedly and cheek smooshed against the hard surface. You couldn’t see his face from the angle you were at, but there was no doubt in your mind he had a pout on his face.

Osamu was standing behind the counter, clearly purposefully ignoring his brother’s sulking as he shaped onigiri in his hands, a thoroughly exasperated look on his face. His head lifted when he heard the bell overhead ring as you entered the shop, but a quick finger to your lips kept him from greeting you by name.

“Welcome to Onigiri Miya what can I get ya?” he chimed automatically, the usual bored drawl in his voice.

“How much for your twin?” you asked, your voice making Atsumu jerk a little in recognition, though he didn’t bother lifting his head, choosing instead to heave a sigh and pointedly ignore you, letting you know exactly what kind of mood your boyfriend was in.

“You can have that for free,” Osamu told you, face scrunched up in disgust, “In fact if yer haulin’ trash outta my restaurant I almost feel like I should be payin’ you instead.”

“Who you callin’ trash, ya scrub,” Atsumu sneered at his brother, finally raising his head to glare at his brother.

“Who else but you, ya trashy scrub!” Osamu retorted, not impressed in the slightest.

Luckily there was no one else in the restaurant at the moment to watch their antics, because while you found them entertaining you knew some found them more than a bit intimidating. Still you didn’t think either twin would be too happy if they actually started brawling in Osamu’s restaurant so you walked up behind your boyfriend, threading your fingers through his hair and gently tugging backwards until his head was resting against your chest.

He immediately quieted down a bit, though you could tell from the look on Osamu’s face that he was still glaring at his twin. Carefully you rested a hand on his shoulder and stroked your fingers through the soft golden waves, massaging his scalp in a way you knew he loved as you asked, “Rough day, Tsumu?”

He let out a huff, but didn’t bother to respond, clearly purposefully ignoring you, even if he didn’t actually pull away from your hands. You rolled your eyes at this childish behavior exchanging a look with Osamu.

“Don’t do that,” Atsumu hissed at the two of you.

“Do what?” Osamu demanded exasperated.

“Talk to each other like I ain’t sittin’ right here in front of ya,” your boyfriend retorted angrily.

“Ya really need to get yer ears cleaned out if ya thought we were talkin’ ya deaf scrub,” Osamu hissed, thoroughly fed up with your boyfriend who was clearly looking to pick a fight.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re ignoring me Tsumu?” you asked patiently, knowing that when he got in this kind of mood patience was the best way to deal with him. If you snapped back or got sarcastic it would only escalate the situation.

“It’s only fair,” he grumbled, still pointedly not looking at you, “Since you’ve been ignorin’ me all day.”

“Ignoring you?” you repeated completely and utterly baffled, “But weren’t you practicing with the rest of the Black Jackals today? And you know I was working too.”

“Ya didn’t let me kiss ya goodbye this mornin’ and ya ignored my texts all day,” Atsumu sulked, “I was startin’ to think ya weren’t even goin’ ta come fer our monthly dinner.”

“I was going to be late, and you were refusing to wake up,” you told your boyfriend reasonably, more amused than annoyed now that you knew what was bothering him, “But I still kissed you goodbye Tsumu and I even left a note for you.”

“Ya left a note?” he asked, voice perplexed though still sulky, “Where? I didn’t see it.”

“In the fridge on top of the bento I packed for you last night,” you told him puzzled that he hadn’t seen it, “Where I was sure you’d see it.”

“I forgot to bring my lunch,” he told you miserably, which definitely helped to explain his mood. Atsumu almost never ate if he didn’t bring his lunch with him insisting the food wasn’t good enough and didn’t match his diet plan. However, when he didn’t eat he tended to get hangry, which had no doubt contributed quite a bit to his foul mood.

“Sounds like a you problem,” Osamu jeered, clearly unimpressed. He of all people knew how nasty his brother could get when he didn’t eat. You gave him a look over his brother’s head again, trying to tell him not to rile him up again, and he raised his hands in surrender.

“Yer doin’ it again,” Atsumu whined, though he’d lost the slightly bitter edge from before.

“If you don’t like it, then maybe you should turn and look at me, so I can’t talk over your head anymore,” you pointed out mildly, feeling a bit like you were dealing with a sulking toddler, but willing to indulge him for now seeing as these kinds of moods were rare nowadays, something Ojirou had told you was clearly a long awaited sign of maturity from the former Inarizaki setter.

Your boyfriend huffed, but in the end swiveled his seat to look at you as you took the seat next to him. However you knew exactly what to do to coax him out of his bad mood. Gently you cupped his face in your palms and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, pulled back for a second, then pressed a longer lingering one to his willing mouth.

“There,” you assured him nuzzling your nose against his affectionately before pulling back, “The kiss goodbye I owed you from this morning, and a kiss to say I’m sorry.”

“Ya forgot to give me a kiss hello,” he pointed out, though you could see the corners of his lips pull upwards as you coaxed him out of his mood.

You grinned and leaned forward to press another kiss to his lips, enjoying the feel and the warmth of it as he cupped your face with one of his hands and held you close for a long moment both of you ignoring Osamu who was fake gagging in the background.

“But why didn’t ya text me?” Atsumu asked you when you parted again, his forehead resting on yours as he peered at you with anxious honey brown eyes, “I thought ya were mad at me.”

“My phone is dead,” you told him, with an affectionate huff, pulling it from your pocket and handing it over, “I must’ve forgotten to charge it last night.”

“Oh,” he told you, playing with the power button and refusing to meet your eyes clearly a little embarrassed at his overreaction, though he did quietly clarify, “So yer not mad?”

“I don’t think I have anything to be mad about,” you admitted, then teased, “Unless you’ve done something I should know about…?”

“No!” he protested immediately hands waving wildly in front of him as he declared his innocence looking entirely too alarmed, “I haven’t done anythin’ I swear!”

“I believe you,” you told him with an amused giggle, grabbing one of his flailing hands and interlacing your fingers together.

“Ya shouldn’t,” Osamu interjected with a huff, “If he hasn’t done somethin’ stupid recently I’ll eat my hat, and if he really hasn’t then he’s goin’ to be due fer it in the near future.”

“I’m not that bad,” Atsumu hissed at his twin, thoroughly offended.

“Ya are,” Osamu jeered, though it was more on the teasing end of things, “Otherwise ya wouldn’t have come in here and moped around, floppin’ all over my counter like an ugly fish and makin’ a nuisance of yerself because ya thought yer girl was mad at ya.”

“How can ya call me any sort of ugly when we have the same face!” Atsumu complained, exasperated. The argument was one you’d heard a thousand times now from both twins and somehow it never ceased to amuse you.

“It’s cuz I ain’t a whiney baby like you,” Osamu huffed.

“Princess, tell him I ain’t a whiney baby,” Atsumu whined, completely proving Osamu’s point and making you giggle helplessly as he pouted at you, informing you, “Yer my girlfriend, yer supposed to be on my side.”

“I am on your side,” you assured him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his pouting lips unable to help yourself, even as you told him, “But you are a bit of a brat Tsumu.”

“A what?” Atsumu asked, thrown by your use of English. He’d gotten better at speaking it a bit, picking up words here and there, though he did get thrown off sometimes when you threw out random words.

“A BrAtsumu?” Osamu repeated, his head cocked to the side in utter confusion.

You gaped at him for several seconds repeating the word over in your mind giggles beginning to spill from your mouth as both twins looked on with identical looks of confusion on their faces. The looks only made things worse and you began to howl with laughter, nearly falling out of your chair if not for Atsumu’s steadying hands.

“Brat – Tsumu, Bratsumu,” you managed to stutter out, wheezing as you tried to catch your breath, “It’s perfect, Osamu it’s perfect.”

“I don’t get it,” the onigiri chef informed you flatly, though you could see the corners of his lips curled upwards, amused at your amusement if nothing else.

“Brat means gaki,” you explained as you caught your breath, clutching Atsumu’s forearms for balance earning a snort of amusement from your boyfriend’s twin.

“Oy, oy, should ya really be callin’ yer boyfriend a brat,” Atsumu protested, though you could tell he wasn’t actually upset, just exasperated, “Especially when I just saved ya from either face plantin’ or crackin’ yer head open. What happens if I decide to drop ya huh?”

“Then I guess I’ll have to do this,” you told him lunging forward to wrap your arms around him instead to better brace yourself.

He caught you easily with a huff of amusement and cuddled you close pressing a tender kiss to your hair before he nuzzled his face into your neck with a warm chuckle as he asked, “So guess that means ya love me after all, even if ya are makin’ fun of me.”

“I always love you Tsumu,” you assured him affectionately, pulling back slightly so you could peer up into his eyes and hoping he could see how serious you were about this, “Even when you’re being a BrAtsumu.”

“Love ya too princess,” he told you fondly pressing a soft kiss to your hairline, “Gonna love ya fer ever, and m’sorry fer bein’ a pain today. Was just rough, cuz I thought ya were mad at me, an I woke up late, forgot my lunch, and didn’t do well in practice.”

“It’s okay Tsumu,” you assured him tenderly, “You weren’t that bad, though I’d appreciate if in the future you talked to me before getting angry.”

“I will,” he assured you nuzzling close.

You sighed in utter contentment, enjoying the feel of his arms, though you knew you probably shouldn’t stay too long. You were in public after all.

“Would the two of ya knock it off with the lovey dovey crap already, yer goin’ to scare away my customers,” sure enough, Osamu interrupted, though he looked more fond than annoyed, even if he was clearly giving it a go, “An where’s my apology huh? It was my counter ya were attemptin’ to merge with.”

“Thanks for putting up with us Osamu,” you told him sincerely, cutting in before your boyfriend could, meaning every word. The man really did put up with a lot at times and you really were grateful for it.

“Yeah well, the least I can do fer ya fer puttin’ up with my lump of a twin,” Osamu told you clearly a little embarrassed as he pulled off his cap and ruffled his hair, heaving a sigh, “Yer really good fer him ya know, too good if ya ask me, but thanks fer takin’ care of the scrub.”

“It’s my pleasure,” you told him honestly, “He may be a scrub, but he’s my scrub and I really do love him you know.”

“I know,” Osamu told you with a fond smile, “Of all people I’m glad it’s you that’s goin’ ta be my future sister-in-law.”

“Oy, what did I tell the two of ya about talkin’ like I ain’t here,” Atsumu protested, though there was a slightly wavering edge to his voice that told you he didn’t actually mind all that much, the pink flush on his cheeks letting you see how touched he was, even as he rushed to change the subject, “Besides we’re here fer food Samu so why aren’t ya feedin’ us?”

“Fine, fine,” Osamu told him, rolling his eyes and clearly deciding to concede just this once, “What do ya want ya big glutton.”

As the twins bickered a bit you couldn’t help but smile, enjoying the warmth of Atsumu’s arm around your waist and the way you could clearly see how both twins kept an eye on your comfort even as they argued, always sure to include you in the conversation and to let you know you were free to interject at any time.

Osamu had always made sure you felt like you were part of the family, and Atsumu, though he could be a brat at times, but he was your brat and he doted on you like nothing else. Looking at them you could almost see the future, with you solidly at Atsumu’s side coming to visit Osamu in his shop so you could all catch up together, hopefully someday with a spouse for Osamu too if he wanted one, and children that would argue the same way the twins did causing mayhem wherever they went.

It was a lovely dream for the future, one you hoped with all your heart would become reality, but for now you were content to simply enjoy the moment savoring every second of being loved by the biggest brat you knew.

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