#i could really use a wish right now wish right now

[in-class-daydreams]

Imagine ex-husband Geto watching the new assistant the school hired being completely awestruck by you.

Naturally, before this meeting, Suguru had to disclose to the new assistant that you two were once a married couple. The details of your divorce, Suguru chose not to get into. Unfortunately, this information, considering how much the newbie admired him, only served to make you even more fascinating. After all, who could possibly be worthy enough to marry - and eventually separate from - Suguru Geto?

"--or so the Inspector General says." Suguru catches the tail end of your explanation regarding an unusual amount of cursed spirits in a concentrated area. He may or may not have spaced out for the last minute of you talking, but at least the assistant, though lacking subtlety, has been taking diligent notes.

The assistant, a young man a few years younger than you and Suguru, somewhere in his mid-twenties, looks up at you in awe.

"The Inspector General speaks to you directly?" he asks. "You must be amazing at your job."

The Jujutsu Inspector General. The high commander of all jujutsu society, the highest of the higher ups. Yes, he spoke with you often.

Suguru fights the urge to roll his eyes when you preen. You're no stranger to praise whatsoever, but you did love basking in everyone's admiration.

"Flatterer," you respond.

"No, I mean it!" the assistant insists. "The report you sent us was so detailed! It was flawless! You're really talented."

"Aw, thank you! Was my report up to your standards, Suguru?" You turn to your ex-husband.

"Sure," Suguru scoffs.

The meeting continues on without much more incident. You've only just given them the supplemental documents when you check the time.

"Looks like that's all the time I have for now. Feel free to contact me if you need anything else." You stand and incline your head to them both, a gesture they return.

"Nice to meet you," you tell the newbie. To your ex-husband, you say, "Bye, Suguru!" and blow him a kiss. Suguru makes a gesture like he's swatting away a mosquito.

As they leave, the assistant nearly runs into the door frame in his eagerness to keep fawning over you, and Suguru feels like his soul's trying to climb out of his body.

Then again, that is the effect you tended to have on people. There were times when you were married when the both of you went to an event, your lethal face cards alone could get people to drop their drinks.

You smile and the assistant blushes. "Someday, we'll all meet for a nice lunch. I wish I could today, but I have a meeting with my father," you tell them with a wave, wiggling your fingers and the poor thing looks like he's about to devote himself to your every desire.

Suguru, however, has been there, done that. "Let's go." He grabs the assistant by the collar and tries to drag him out as fast as possible. If he could teleport out of here like Satoru, he would.

"Geto, sir," the assistant says, eyes never leaving your office door. "You were married to that woman? Isn't she just stunning? She's incredible! How could you ever have let her go?"

To each statement: Yes. Yes. I know. You'd be surprised.

"It's much more complicated than that," Suguru grumbles.

Suguru throws open the door to the hallway just to run into two men in suits. Behind them is their employer whom Suguru knows all too well, and behind him, another set of bodyguards.

"Suguru," the man greets lowly.

"Inspector General, sir." Suguru bows respectfully while the assistant nearly bashes his head on the floor in his haste.

"If you'll excuse me, I have business with my daughter," the Inspector General says. The two move right out of the way and watch as the entourage heads into your office.

It takes the assistant a moment to compute, but by the choked sound he eventually makes, it's clear that he's begun to comprehend just how complicated your marriage was.

I promise I haven't abandoned Sen and his family! I just wanted a little break/practice in Geto x Nepo Baby!MC and the much pettier divorce where I have free reign for them to be more problematic towards each other without having to worry about how horrible it would be for their child to have to witness it

[Masterlist] | Tag for this AU is #geto's nepo ex

[nyoomfruits]

osctober day one

prompt: home race pairing: lando/oscar word count: 1,5k

It starts, just like the Formula One season, in Australia.

“Love Albert Park,” Lando says, when they’re finally alone in their hotel room after a long grueling day of press. The jetlag didn’t help, and Oscar’s been fighting all day just to stay awake. Lando hasn’t been fairing much better, Oscar having to shake him out of multiple naps. One day he will get used to Lando being able to sleep practically anywhere. For now, he will continue to stay amazed.

“Hm,” Oscar says, upside down in his suitcase. They’re free for the evening, and he’s planning on changing into his sweatpants and a hoodie and crawling onto their giant king sized bed and watching movies until they fall asleep. Which will probably be ten minutes into the first movie.

“Like, the atmosphere is so good, right?” Lando says. He’s already on the bed, nicked one of Oscar’s hoodies. One of his favorites, too. Oscar settles for a mediocre McLaren branded one and crawls onto the bed too. Tomorrow they have a dinner planned with his parents, which he’s looking forward to. They haven’t been over to see them for a while, and he’s excited to catch up.

“Hm,” Oscar says again, grabbing the remote. Lando is immediately on him, snuggling into his side before he can even get properly settled. Oscar lets it happen, smiles fondly as Lando lets out a happy little noise and presses a kiss to Oscar’s shoulder.

“Good track too. Fun. Must be great to be able to call it your home race, right?” Lando continues, as Oscar pulls up the Netflix menu. They’ve been slowly been making their way through any and all sports documentaries on there, and they’ve now got to one about cheerleading.

“I guess,” Oscar says, as he queue’s up the next episode. Lando is warm against his side, his breath fanning out over Oscar’s neck, and Oscar wishes sometimes he could have this forever. He thinks that might be nice.

Lando is fidgeting, like he’s gearing up to say something. On the TV, a dance-y pop song plays as the cheerleaders practice a truly impressive choreography. Oscar lets the song wash over him, closes his eyes as he waits for Lando to say something.

“Would love to call it my home race, too,” Lando eventually says, staring up at Oscar with big, nervous eyes.

Oscar doesn’t reply. He’s dead asleep.

--

They’re in China, a week later. Lunch in the McLaren Motorhome, a little table tucked away from the rest. Australia was fun, the car looks good. Podiums for both of them. Oscar had looked out on the crowd, Lando next to him, his parents down there smiling proudly up at him and he’d felt. Complete.

“So like, 1/16th,” Lando says, between bites of his chicken wrap.

Oscar takes a bite of his own chicken warp, gave up on his toast with salmon ages ago. Though he doesn’t think Lando would have broken up with him over it, if he had to pick between Lando and salmon he would pick Lando any day. “1/16th of what,” he says, when he’s done chewing.

“Your home race,” Lando says, gesturing around. “Because you’re 1/16th Chinese.”

“Right,” Oscar says, waiting for the question.

“Let’s say,” Lando says, having put his wrap down and picking at a piece of lettuce. “You had like. If you got. You’re married.”

“I am?” Oscar asks, eyebrow raised.

“Hypothetically,” Lando corrects, turning ever so slightly red. The piece of lettuce is now in two. “Hypothetically you’re married. Would that make this your spouse’s home race too?”

“Depends,” Oscar says. “Is my spouse Chinese? Are they a race driver?”

“No,” Lando says. Four pieces of lettuce. “And yes.”

“Then no,” Oscar says, takes another thoughtful bite. “But our kids could call it their home race. If they went into racing.”

Lando makes a strangled noise, drops the pieces of lettuce, and then spends the rest of the lunch sort of staring into space, confusing mix of expressions on his face. Oscar doesn’t really question it. He’s found that’s the best way of going about dating Lando Norris.

Lando never asked, but if he had, Oscar would’ve told him that if he could have hypothetically married anyone, he probably would have married Lando. Hypothetically of course.

--

“Monaco,” Lando says, entering the paddock side by side with Oscar. “Home race for you, huh?”

The joke is old by now, old enough that it doesn’t get more than a yearly reference and a half laugh out of Oscar. It surprises him Lando would even bring it up. “I mean I have been living here long enough,” he says. First in his own apartment. Now in the apartment he shares with Lando. He knows which one he prefers.

“You know what I mean,” Lando says, pauses, seems to consider something. “Do you reckon it could be. You know. Mine too?” He asks.

Oscar hoists his backpack higher up onto his shoulder. It’s heavy, carrying both his and Lando’s stuff. “I don’t know,” he says. “Should ask Charles.”

Lando deflates, shoulders sagging. His backpack free shoulders. Oscar could ask him, to carry the backpack. Lando would say yes, wouldn’t mind at all.

He doesn’t.

--

There’s a ring. It’s been in his luggage since China, since Lando planted the seed of marriage in his head. He picked it out himself, thinks Lando would like it. It’s simple, plain, but thick. Noticeable. He knows Lando would appreciate that sort of thing.

He’s been brainstorming the perfect moment. Maybe after a win. Maybe after a home race win. But then, does he want to make their proposal about F1? He’s been thinking about the summer break, the trip to Greece they have planned. Thinks about winter break, the trip to Australia. He could do it in front of his family, have them all there. But then what about the Norris’s? They would be just as delighted to be there.

So yeah. Ruminating. He’s starting to hope the right moment will just smack him in the face.

Which it does, sort of, right after FP2 in Silverstone. They’re in the car, on their way back from the track, tucked away in the backseat, Oscar typing away on his phone while Lando. Fidgets.

“So,” Lando says. “Home race.”

“Home race,” Oscar agrees.

“I mean it isn’t. Your home race,” Lando says. “Not. Well. Not yet?”

Oscar pulls a face. “I mean, kind of is, isn’t it? Team home race and all? I’ll take it.”

He expects a half laugh, a shoulder nudge, a Lando slumping into his side. What he gets instead is a strangled cry and his phone ripped from his hands. When he comes face to face with Lando, he looks furious.

“Alright, what will it take for you to get the hint,” Lando says, and Oscar’s clearly upset him, he just wishes he knew about what.

“What hint,” he says, slowly, not wanting to agitate Lando any further.

It’s the wrong thing to say anyway. Lando slumps back into the car seat, throws the phone back to Oscar. “Nothing, it’s. It’s stupid, I guess.”

Oscar watches him. Thinks back on the conversation they just had. “Wait,” he says, and Lando perks up. Hopeful. “What do you mean not yet? You said it isn’t my home race yet. What do you mean?”

Lando looks at him. “What do you think I mean?” He says, only a little sulkily.

Oscar considers it. Thinks, all of a sudden, of China, of Monaco, when Lando had brought up the home race thing too. Thinks of Australia, of the question he never asked. Thinks of the ring, hidden away in his luggage in the hotel room.

“Yes,” he blurts out.

“What?” Lando says.

“Yes,” Oscar says again, more sure this time. “Yes, I want your home races to be my home races and my home races to be yours.” And then, to answer the question Lando has really been asking this entire time, “Yes, I will marry you.”

“Oh,” Lando says, and it’s his turn to look a little thrown. “Really?”

“I have, there’s a ring,” Oscar says. “If you want me to prove it. It’s been there since China, I’ve just been looking for the right moment, but I think. I think this is it. The right moment, I mean.”

Lando scrunches up his nose. “This is a horrible moment,” he says.

And he’s right. They’re both tired from a long day of practice, ready to pass out from exhaustion. They’re in a car, an impersonal company provided non-descript one, on their way to their equally impersonal company provided non-descript hotel room, in the middle of a race weekend. They have to go to bed early, because they have more responsibilities again tomorrow. Arguably, this might be the worst moment for a proposal.

But Lando is looking soft and sleepy and hopeful and Oscar wants to spend the rest of his life with him and the rest of his life can’t begin soon enough, so he means it with all his heart when he says, “Lando Norris, will you do the honor of letting my home race become your home race?’

And Lando, Lando smiles, soft and happy and everything Oscar loves says, “I would love nothing more.”

[puckinghischier]

alli there is this idea in my head and since I love how you write Nico I wish you could write this

there is a Gracie Abrams song called In Between and I’ve been thinking about a headcanon or something based on that song so it’s like gracie is describing yours and Nico relationship

it’s such a cute song describing two people falling in love and to me it screams falling in love with Nico

really hope you could do something with this request ❤️

this is such a cute request and i hope this is at least semi close to what you were thinking of 🫶🏼

(i kinda manipulated the lyrics and left some out of certain sections just so it would make more sense/flow better)

I just can’t come between em’, they got their own thing; I wish he’d stop pretendin’, he won’t let his phone ring for more than a couple seconds oh I think maybe two

Nico drags behind his teammates as they come off of the ice, hearing the various grunts and complaints about needing an ice bath and a shower.

He smirks to himself as he makes his way to his locker, taking his time, watching the hoard of sweaty hockey players quickly trickle out of the room. Taking a peek behind his shoulder, making sure he’s mostly alone in the large room, he pulls his phone out of his bag, making sure he has no missed calls or messages.

“Cap! Thought you said no phones in the locker room this season? Or does that only apply to us lowly alternates and unlettered players?” Jack pokes fun at his captain, slapping a hand on Nico’s back, startling him.

Sliding his phone out of sight, he turns to greet Jack. “Just checking to make sure I didn’t miss anything important,” Nico gives a nervous smile.

Jack eyes Nico skeptically. “C’mon, Neeks. You’re acting like a lovesick fool. Just ask her out already.”

“Jack, I told you it’s not like that. She’s just…nice to talk to,” Nico won’t meet Jack’s expectant eyes, focusing his attention on the wooden cubby for any vibration or buzz of his phone against the hardwood.

Ever since the night he met you at one of the post-game trips to the bar, Jack knew Nico was smitten, encouraging him to do something before someone else came along and whisked you away under his nose.

“Bullshit. You’ve been glued to your phone for weeks now. Every time you hear even the slightest indication your phone is ringing, you’re jumping at the chance to answer it,” Jack calls him out on his eagerness.

“I have not been! I’m just-“ Nico’s defensive tone is cut short by the quiet ring of his phone, head snapping over to where it rests next to his helmet. His hand immediately shoots out to grab it, smiling when he sees your name on the screen.

“Hey! I was just thinking about giving you a call. Just got done with practice and was wondering if you wanted to-“ Nico stops mid-sentence after hearing Jack clear his throat, already having forgotten where he was and that Jack was standing right behind him.

Jack raises his eyebrows at his friend, giving him a much deserved ‘I told you so,’ look.

“Hang on a second, okay?” Nico puts his hand over the speaker of his phone, addressing Jack. “Can you just go shower already? This proves absolutely nothing. It’s an isolated incident,” he whispers, not wanting you to be hinted to the previous conversation.

Jack shakes his head, laughing. “Whatever you say, Cap. Hi, y/n!!” Jack shouts out as he walks towards the showers, hearing you return his greeting with a small giggle through Nico’s phone, wondering when the two of you are finally going to admit your feelings for each other.

I wish that you could see ‘em, their faces lighten up; Their past is cold and empty, they know it’s been enough; Of waitin’ on somebody, someone who doesn’t care; But he knows her name, she knows he’ll always be there

“Y/n, when are you finally going to lock that man down? You know he’s absolutely obsessed with you, right?” your best friend asks you, watching Nico glide across the ice.

Your cheeks involuntarily turn red, not knowing how to respond to her. You know how you feel about Nico, but you can’t just assume that he feels the same way. “You don’t know that. He’s just a nice guy. He could act like this towards all of his friends.”

No sooner than the words leave your mouth, Nico makes eye contact with you from across the ice. His face breaks out into the widest grin you think you’ve ever seen, your own matching his. You give him a small wave, his gloved hand returning the gesture as you watch Jack skate up to his side. The disappointment settles in your stomach the second his bright eyes are no longer focused on yours, trying really hard not to be mad at Jack, considering they are working right now.

Your best friend, witnessing the entire interaction, has her own smile on her face, knowing that you deserve someone like Nico in your life after your previous relationship endeavors. You’ve been hurt time and time again due to how quickly you become attached, always seeing the best in the worst people. Nico is different, though. She can see how much he wants to make you happy, how kind he is. If any man’s face lights up like that when looking at you, there’s a 100% chance he’s already in love with you.

Which is why, when her and Jack catch each other’s eye, a silent understanding is passed between the two, a small nod of confirmation shared.

Jack feels the same way about Nico as your best friend does about you. Nico deserves someone like you after all of his past failed relationships. All of the girls taking advantage of his loving nature and kindness because they want the status that comes with dating a professional athlete, moving on to the next sport when they get bored with Nico. Jack having been there to pick up the pieces, Nico getting far too attached far too quickly with all the wrong people. But watching the way you always look at Nico, like he’s the only person in every room you’re in, he knows you’re someone Nico needs to keep around.

So, Jack starts putting his part of the unspoken plan into motion.

“Go, do it now,” Jack encourages Nico.

“Do what? What are you talking about?” Nico turns to face Jack, trying to not be annoyed he’s stealing his attention away from you.

“Ask her out, duh? Now’s the time. She can’t say no in front of all these people, right?” Jack gives him a slight push, skating him right over to the glass.

“I don’t want her to say yes because she’s been put on the spot, Jack. I want her to say yes because she genuinely has feelings for me,” Nico protests, trying to stop himself from being pushed towards you.

His efforts are pointless, hearing Jack yell out “Y/n!!” loud enough that you’re able to hear him through the glass.

“Hi!!” you giggle out, laughing at the pout on Nico’s face.

Nico looks up at you, pout immediately dissolving. “So, can I expect a win tonight or am I going to end up being some kind of bad luck charm, since it’s my first game?” you shout at Nico, being brave and taking your friend’s encouragement to heart, attempting to be a little flirtatious.

“Are you kidding me? You could never be bad luck. If anything, I think this will be our best game this season,” Nico perks up a bit, skating a little closer to the glass, wishing the barricade wasn’t there, wanting to hear your voice and see your blushing cheeks without the slight blur from the scratched surface.

“I don’t know if I can handle that kind of pressure,” you laugh out, unconsciously leaning forward, focused on how much you love the way Nico’s hair flares out in little tufts on either side of his helmet.

“No pressure, just the truth,” Nico shrugs. He catches Jack out of the corner of his eye, remembering the younger forward’s words as he was pushed over here against his will. The small look of expectancy on Jack’s face pushes Nico to take the risk, deciding he’s done tiptoeing around his feelings for you.

“In fact, after we win this game due to the luck you have running through your veins, why don’t I take you out for a celebratory dinner? Or drinks? Or ice cream? Or whatever you want?” Nico starts rambling, his nerves sky rocketing once he sees the soft surprise take over your features.

You’re beginning to think the blush on your face is permanent at this point, feeling it grow deeper at his question. You’re trying to think of a clever response, not wanting to seem too eager, but you blurt out “Ice cream!” before your brain can stop your mouth.

Nico chuckles in both relief and amusement.

“Uhm, I mean, that sounds fun,” you try to recover. “As long I’m not blamed when this supposed ‘good luck’ backfires on everyone.”

Nico shakes his head, assuring you that’s not possible. The sound of the buzzer signaling warm ups are over startles you, feeling embarrassed at how much you jumped.

“Meet me after the game, okay? I’ll be in the tunnels, waiting,” Nico shouts before he skates off, giving a small wave.

Watching him glide away, something tugs at your stomach, telling you he’ll always be there waiting for you. Not just after games. Not just tonight.

Jack and your best friend look at each other through the glass, having witnessed the whole conversation. You’re so focused on Nico’s retreating figure that you don’t notice the air high five they give each other.

She toes the line between em’, he says he’s new at this; There’s holy ground beneath them, and sparks fly when they kiss; He hates it when she’s crying, he hates when she’s away; Even at their worst, they know they’ll still be okay

It’s your first time dealing with Nico being on the road for this long (over a week) since your impromptu ice cream date months ago. They ended up winning the game, so Nico kept his promise. By the time the game ended, however, every ice cream parlor he drove you to was closed.

He ended up taking you to the grocery store, telling you to pick out any flavor you wanted, and he’d take you back to his apartment for an ice cream party. He casually bought 10 half gallons of ice cream, because he claimed he couldn’t decide on a flavor. He set up an extravagant topping bar, too, and did a whole bit as if he worked in an ice cream shop.

Ever since that night, your ice cream dates became a routine, meeting him at his apartment after home games, bad days, and just nights you wanted to see him. The two of you were determined to eat through all of the ice cream he bought, Nico complaining that all the extra sugar was slowing him down on the ice.

Tonight, however, you were sitting in your apartment with your best friend, upset because you haven’t heard from Nico in three days.

“I’m sure they’re just busy, Y/n. I have a hard time believing Nico would just ghost you,” she tries to reason with you, not liking how down you seem.

“I thought that on day one, then again on day two. But then you came over and Jack has been messaging you for the past hour, so they’re obviously not busy right now,” you huff out, staring at your cold, black screen.

Despite how much time the two of you have been spending together, nothing has really changed between the two of you. There’s never been a conversation about what the cuddles on his couch mean, or the fact that you’ve been coming to all of his games that are in Jersey. You never discussed what it meant when he gave you one of his jerseys to wear, and you still haven’t given it back. Not a word about it was shared the night you tagged along to the bar with him and the rest of the team and he drove you home, walking you to your door because you were a little too tipsy, only a small goodbye shared after you stood in your doorway, staring back at him for an eternity.

“Well, Nico is the captain. Maybe he’s got other stuff going on that Jack doesn’t. Do you want me to ask Jack why-“

“No!” you’re quick to interrupt. “I don’t want him thinking I’m some level 3 clinger when we’re not even dating.”

She just rolls her eyes, everyone but the two of you aware that you’re basically dating without the label.

“Alright, I won’t. It was just a suggestion,” she puts her hands in the air, surrendering.

Looking at your phone again, you sigh at the lack of activity.

“They’re coming back tonight anyways, right? Maybe he’ll call when he gets back in. He might be asleep on the bus or something. Yeah, I’m sure that’s what it is,” you reassure yourself.

You best friend texts Jack anyways, tired of seeing you freak out over this, wanting to know why Nico just suddenly went radio silent on you the last three days of their roadie.

~~

“Neeks,” Jack nudged Nico, knowing he was awake.

“What? I told you I just wanted to be left alone to sleep. I’m tired,” Nico snapped, his mood matching yours, even from miles away.

“Okay, mr pouty butt, no need to take my head off,” Jack responded, earning an eye roll from Nico. “Just wanna know why you’re in such a bad mood when you know you can call Y/n at anytime.”

Nico hadn’t talked to you in three days and it was killing him. Luke had made a comment about how often he called you, sometimes two to three times a day, and it made him worried he was being annoying, considering the two of you weren’t even officially together. But, he hadn’t heard from you, either, so he didn’t want to be the one to break the silence incase you really did think he was being clingy.

“I’m just…giving her space,” Nico shrugged, not wanting to get into the details with Jack on the slightly smelly bus.

“Whatever you want, man, but maybe you should call her when we get back. Just so she knows you’re not ghosting her,” he advises, not wanting to tell him that you’re sitting at home pouting just like he is. He didn’t want you to find out your best friend had betrayed your trust, either.

It’s like an alarm went off in Nico’s head. He never once thought that you’d think he just up and quit talking to you for no reason. Or because he didn’t want to. Because god, did he want to. All he ever wanted to do was talk to you. First thing in the morning, before he goes to bed at night, when he’s bored, when he sees a stray cat, when he passes by your favorite bakery, when he sees someone with a cup from your favorite coffee shop, always. He always wants to talk to you.

“Shit, you’re right,” Nico sits up, grabbing his phone and opening your contact.

~~

“Uhh…he’s calling me,” you blurt out, finally seeing the Nico’s contact picture pop up on your phone screen, watching his smiling face with whipped cream everywhere stare back at you. “What do I do?”

“Answer it, dummy!” your best friend rolls her eyes at you.

“I don’t know if I want to,” you tell her, still just watching it ring. “He did just ghost me for three days, what if it makes me look pathetic?”

“Oh my god you’re not going to look pathetic, just answer the damn phone!”

You watch the phone screen go black, the decision being made for you.

“Well, I guess that answers that one. Or…doesn’t answer it,” you look up at her.

“I swear, you’re both so helpless,” she groans out, raking her hands down her face in frustration.

“Maybe he’ll get a taste of his own medicine,” you say, the taste of the words on your tongue bitter, knowing you should have just answered the phone.

“Whatever, I’m going to pick up Jack. He said they just got in, incase you were wondering,” she tells you before leaving your apartment, leaving you to sulk alone, again.

~~

Nico rushes over to your apartment, praying that you’re still awake so he can fix this. After you didn’t answer his call, he freaked out, thinking he’s fucked this whole thing up before it even started.

Jack told him to just wait until tomorrow and try to call you again, but Nico needed to fix this now.

Nico barely puts his car in park before he’s running into your building, pressing the elevator button over and over again in hopes it’ll make the door open faster. Once he finally reaches your floor, he’s speed walking straight to your door, knocking on it like his life depends on seeing your face.

“Y/n! It’s me!” he tries not to shout, but he makes sure he speaks loud enough for you to hear him through the door. “Please open up. I wanna see you. Wanna talk to you,” he pleads.

He’s about to start the harsh assault on your door again, at this point trying to wake you up in case you had gone to sleep, just needing to see you and fix all of this.

He hears the lock click, his breath catching in his throat.

When you open the door, he’s met with you clad in your pajamas and hair haphazardly thrown on the top of your head in a knot. You look confused, not expecting to see him outside of your door this late at night.

“Nico?” is all you say, not knowing how else to react.

“Hey,” he breathes out, thinking about how cute you look right now, even if there is a frown on your face.

“It’s one o’clock in the morning, is something wrong? Didn’t you just get back? Why aren’t you home right now?” he sees you staring at his tired eyes with sympathy.

“I had to see you,” is all he can manage to say, not exactly having a plan.

He hears the small giggle come out of your mouth, loving the sound.

“Okay, well here I am,” you respond to him, switching your weight from one foot to the other.

Nico shakes his head, like he’s clearing his thoughts. “I had to see you, and fix this.”

He watches your face morph into confusion. “What do you mean?”

Maybe he was just being paranoid? And dramatic?

“This. Us. The fact that we haven’t spoken in three days,” he starts, knowing he was right when you stand a little taller, like you were bracing yourself. “I swear, I didn’t mean to just go silent on you. Luke got in my head, made me think I was being annoying. I got a little crazy thinking about how ‘we’re not even dating, why am I being so clingy right now?’, but then I realized, I want to be clingy. I want to talk to you every hour of every day. I want to be dating you.”

He hears your gasp. “You…what?”

“I want to be your boyfriend,” he speaks softer and slower this time. “Hell, according to Jack I basically already am. But I want it to be real. I want us to be real.”

He watches the tears fill your eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey. No, I didn’t mean to make you cry, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he reaches forward, pulling you into a hug.

“No, it’s fine, I’m not-“ you can’t finish your sentence, Nico squishing your face into his chest.

“I’m new to all this, okay? I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, I don’t have much experience actually dating people. I didn’t want to scare you away by moving too fast, but then I kinda did the opposite, huh?” he keeps talking, his nerves getting the best of him once again.

“Nico, listen to me,” you pull back, looking up to meet his brown eyes. “I want this too.”

Nico breaks into a smile so wide you think his skin is going to split.

“I don’t know how to do this either,” you confess. “I don’t know how to get used to you being gone all the time, I don’t know how to have these conversations, I don’t know how to keep myself from falling so fast, but I want to figure out how to do it with you.”

He wipes at the tears under your eyes. “Even if they’re happy tears, I don’t like seeing them in your eyes.”

Once again, that blush that seems to be a permanent fixture on your face makes an appearance.

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer your call earlier. I was being a brat and trying to give you a taste of your own medicine,” you confess, embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, too. For letting Luke get in my head and then pouting because you never called me,” he responds, sounding just as guilty as you feel.

“Promise me we won’t be bratty with each other again? I don’t like it, it seems very out of character for us?” you ask, looking up and resting your chin on his chest.

“Promise,” he tells you, staring down at you.

You move your head back, feeling the moment intensify.

“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” he whispers.

“Okay.”

His lips feel exactly as you imagined, soft and plush, slotting against your bottom lip perfectly.

As you walk backwards, leading him into your apartment, you can feel the sureness of this. How right it feels. How, no matter what comes at the two of you, no matter if it’s something big or a silly little misunderstanding like tonight, you’ll always come out okay on the other end.

He laughs at her eyes, at her smile, at the glasses on her face; She loves how he talks late at night, when there’s no one else to say; How she’s beautiful and funny and smart like nothin’ he’s ever seen; He’s good to her, and she wants it more than everything in-between

“I can’t believe they made us sit through that god-awful play,” you say as Nico unlocks his door. “I mean, the entire thing was in French. I don’t speak French! And neither does Jack! I swear, I love my best friend, I do, but just because she was a French double major in college doesn’t mean everything we do has to be in French.”

Nico chuckles at you, having understood the play quite well. “I told you I could play translator if you wanted me to, but you said no,” he takes off your coat, hanging it on the small set of hooks in his entry way.

“It was more fun to make up my own plot,” you shrug, taking off your shoes and making your way to his couch.

Laughing at you again, Nico makes a pit stop in his kitchen to make both of you a small bowl of ice cream before joining you on the couch.

“You know, I really like it when you wear your glasses, you should wear them more often,” he blurts out, handing you your bowl.

“These bug-eyed things?” you pull a face, earning a real, belly laugh from him. “I’m sorry? Does my face look funny or something?”

He waits until he catches his breath to reply. “Not at all. My beautiful, bug-eyed girlfriend.”

You don’t know why you even buy blush anymore, not ever having to wear any around Nico. “I love that you always say things to give me an ego boost,” you joke.

“I’m being serious,” he responds, the change in his tone confusing you. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You’re the smartest woman I’ve ever met, and the funniest jokester I’ve ever interacted with.”

“You did not just seriously call me a ‘jokester’” you deadpan, ruining the moment.

“Hush, woman, I’m trying to compliment you here,” he lightly scolds, earning a laugh from you. “I’m trying to tell you how much I love you, and you’re caught up on my choice of words.”

You’re stunned to silence. “You…love me?”

“Of course I love you? I’d be crazy not to,” he takes the bowl of half-melted ice cream from your hands and places it on the small table in front of you.

“I’d be crazy not to love you back,” you tell him, sliding your arms around his torso as he crawls over to hover over you.

“Glad neither of us are crazy then,” he whispers onto your lips as he meets them in a kiss.

The kiss is slow and sweet, both of you taking your time savoring one another. You can taste the caramel ice cream on his lips, enhancing his already intoxicating taste.

You think about how hard you’ve fallen for this man. You think you fell for him on your first ‘date’, really, just too scared to say anything until now.

Unknown to you, Nico is thinking the same thing, kicking himself for not telling you sooner.

You also think about how much you love living life with Nico. How he always seems to know how to cheer you up when you’re upset. How he brings you coffee and bagels every morning on his way home from workouts. How he plans double date nights with Jack and your best friend, knowing that you feel like you neglect her sometimes, being too caught up in your life with him.

He treats you better than you’ve ever been treated, not being used to having someone be so attentive and all in as he is.

Nico was the surprise you didn’t know you needed. And while you can’t wait to see where the two of you end up in the future, you love the moments like this, and everything in-between.

[livelaughlovesubs]

~ O2.10 - (hsr) Blade ~

Dom!reader x sub!blade - reader is gender neutral

Warning: yan!reader, NTR, fingering, pegging (I use dick), anal play, double penetration, marking, biting, hair pulling, sex toys, cumming untouched, teasing, dirty talk (?), bondage, dacryphilia, mind break, sub-space, obsessiveness (mention of wanting to lock him up etc.)

~ Word count: 6.8k ~

Nini!rant: I felt like a pervert writing this, also why the unnecessary drama?!

Kinktober list 2024

You really shouldn’t be mad. Of course, you were understanding and patient with him, damn it, you really were. Well, you out of everyone knew best what he was like. Cold, distant, and quiet, that icy demeanor of his wasn’t only for show. He didn’t like expressing his emotions too excessively or catching a lot of attention.

Also, work comes first, every time with no fail. Normally you didn’t mind it at all, because you adored him nonetheless. All of that wasn’t off-putting, it was what you loved about him. No matter how compliant you are with him, he’d still hurt you sometimes without noticing. You knew he never meant to do it on purpose, but you wished he was a little more considerate. If only he understood your perspective a little more. 

Today was different though, in the fact that you had enough. This time you were fed up with him, to the point you could feel your blood boil. For example, you reached out for his hand, obviously because you wanted to hold it. To your dismay, he immediately shook off your touch and avoided your eyes. Was it because Silver Wolf and Kafka were also there? Sure, He wasn’t one to enjoy showing public affection, yet his reaction was too much. If one didn’t know the whole truth they’d think he disliked you, you were a little offended by it.

On the same day but later, Kafka teased blade about how much you loved him since you always looked out for your dear partner. Instead of agreeing with her, maybe even complimenting you (not that you expected him to do so), he answered with, “I can only wait til the day we separate.”

It was an accident that you heard them, you didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But, what kind of answer is that?! Could this be his way of telling you he wants to break up? And the damn reason is what, because you like him too much? Your break up is not something he can decide. In the end, you couldn’t keep your frustrations and anger under control. Were you the only one who cherished this relationship?

You were understanding, really, but you had a limit as well.

Loud stomping sounds echoed through the halls, your presence was soon made known to everyone. Honestly, you couldn’t care less about being noisy right now. Without wasting any time, you walked over to him, just to grab his wrist and drag him along. One didn’t need to be a genius to guess you were furious, even someone with low emotional intelligence like him knew.

He decided it would be the smarter move to follow obediently. To be fair he always let you do whatever you wanted, because he didn’t want to hurt you. What if he pushed you away, causing you to trip because he couldn't control his strength? That man thought of his own power as something destructive and despicable, with the mindset that he was no better than a weapon.

Most of the time you were allowed to do whatever you wanted except spoiling him with affection in public.

Now that you thought about it, this was probably because he never expected your relationship to last, and he still doesn’t trust the fact that you won’t leave him or vanish out of thin air. How absurd, you wouldn't leave him even if he begs you to. Heck, not even death would be able to do you two apart. You were ready to become a parasite that lives inside him for the rest of his life, so you two won’t ever be separated. With that being said, how is he that stubborn with his mindset, still firmly believing that you would get sick of him one day.

What a naive thought. Yet that was just how Blade was, and it hurt you like a deep cut in your heart. Damn it, did he really have that little trust in you or in himself? Both options made your heart throb with sadness and sorrow. The previous anger subsided and bitterness filled your senses at the realisation. It was as if everything you thought you had built with him, achieved during all that time meant nothing. Like a fleeting memory, worth as much as a cloud in the sky. You couldn't wrap your head around how he can let you go so easily.

What to do, what to do... You’ve brought him to your room to nag him, but now you weren’t even angry anymore. Only staring at him with a familiar pity in your eyes. One that he has never seen on anyone's face when they interact with him except yours. Whenever you pulled that expression, Blade would ponder over what kind of thoughts were running through your head. Fury? Despair? Or emptiness? If only he could ease your burden and guilt only a little, he'd be willing to do whatever it takes. Maybe you two were never meant to be. Was there anything you could have done to prevent this outcome?

Blade too knew what got you acting up, he had a pretty accurate guess. You probably overheard his conversation with his fellow colleagues, which wasn’t meant for your ears. He wondered how much you heard, a glimmer of hope prayed that today will be the day you end things. He wanted you to break up with him first, so you can save more face and leave without regrets. Instead of keeping silent like always, he took the initiative this time. The boy took a deep breath first, then asked, “So you know?” Somehow it wasn’t akin to a question, more like a confirmation.

Anyone else would think he was being emotionless again, due to how he kept a nonchalant expression even during such situations. Or how his voice had that usual carefree undertone. Yet you knew. You were certain he was frustrated too. You knew him better than anyone, better than he himself. Every single one of his features, habits, and actions, you’ve got it all mesmerized and stuck in your head like a curse. If someone said he wasn’t expressive, you were ready to defend him like the best lawyer out there.

“I won’t break up with you.” You said immediately, getting straight to the point and making yourself clear. “I’d never do that, even if you don’t like me anymore.” Maybe you were a little clingy, or even possessive. Even so, you tried your best to accommodate your own desires to fit into his comfort zone. You've done so much for him, no one loves him more than you, so it’s fine to be egoistic right? “You should, I can’t return the things you give me.” He advised you, now acknowledging your efforts.

Bright red eyes reflecting the colors of a destructive fire stared right into yours, the flame was wild and uncontrolled like always. “You can’t decide that for me, I won't allow you to end our relationship so easily.” You stood by your point, not afraid to keep the eye contact with him. There was just no way you’d let him go, he needs you, and he loves you. Not to mention you do too, so what more did he need?

As if something inside you snapped, you asked him in an almost desperate tone, “What more conditions do I have to fulfil for you to stay? And who will comfort you if not me, who will care for your health if i’m not here?” Your voice was on the edge of breaking, it reflected your inner emotions very well. You couldn’t afford for him to leave. Blade sighed, he growled a little as he spoke, “it’s not about you, it’s me. I’m a sinner, and I still have a price to pay. I don't want to cling to the realm of the living any longer, I don’t deserve it, the only salvation I seek is death.”

You countered him almost immediately, speaking in a slightly more aggressive manner now, “I’m not dating you only because of you, I want it too. I don't care about your past or future destiny, I want to stay with you, in this fleeting moment, in this forsaken universe, and I don’t want anyone else.” Why were you this determined, that's so annoying. There were so many better candidates besides him, who aren’t condemned convicts and have brighter futures! Can’t you see he’s doing it for your sake? Slowly you were getting on his nerves.

A moment of silence broke out, both of you didn’t dare utter a single word. You didn’t want to break the ice first, and neither did he. After a good minute, you couldn’t stand it anymore, it was even more awkward just standing there glaring at each other. Which is why you walked up to him until you were right in front of the male, “answer me, and only this question with no strings attached. Do you- no, did you not like our relationship?”

The fury you previously held returned, now eating away at you even more viciously than before. Blade took his sweet time answering him, both of you knew the truth anyway. “I never said that,” the male those to stay as neutral as possible. To admit he actually wants to continue this path of hardship and suffering wouldn’t help him out of this situation. “I said answer my question only.” You reinforced your point, trying to pressure a response out of him.

He sighed, bawling his hands into fists as he replied, “I regret not being able to be the partner you wished for me to be.” Suddenly you grabbed his shoulders, shaking him roughly, “that’s not what I asked for!” Despite you sounding so angry you could explode at him, blade noticed the underlying fear and frustration in your voice. “What does my answer change? It doesn’t make me less unsuitable for you.”

“So what? Why can’t we stay together? It’s not like you are in prison! No— never mind, don’t answer me. I know you won’t change your opinion even if this continues.” You stopped squeezing his shoulders as if he would disappear if you didn’t, but you didn’t let go of him. Then you uttered under your breath, “I’ll have to make you stay in a different way then…”

He didn’t quite get what you meant by that, but he also didn’t get the chance to ask. Blade frowned at your ignorance. Don’t you know just how dangerous he is? How stupid does one have to be, to stay this close to someone bathing in blood like him? It’s not that he enjoyed arguing with you, all he wished for was your safety and happiness. He didn't think you could achieve that while being with him.

Every time he came back from a mission, the worried and bitter look on your face would hurt more than any wound he gets on the battlefield. That look you bore would follow him to his nightmares, ripping him off any shred of sleep he could have gotten. Your smile would also drop instantly whenever you saw blood dripping from his body, even if it wasn’t his. Isn’t this proof enough that you should leave? You were clearly scared of him.

At that moment, he lost himself in his thoughts, but you quickly snapped him out of it. All due to a rough push that caused him trip backward and crash onto your bed. He immediately tried to sit up because of his reflexes, since he can’t stay in a vulnerable position during battle for all too long. Though this time you were faster, trapping him between your arms without any exits. Blade stared up at you, his voice caught in his throat. Something about your vibe told him this was not normal, or at least not your gentle self he was used to.

With a cold commanding voice, you said, “strip, blade.” Your voice was so different. The tone was harsh and somewhat unsettling, he knew it wasn’t a suggestion but an order. Without questioning your actions too much, he followed your words as always. First his jacket, then his pants. Underneath his top, he wore nothing but bandages that were wrapped around his torso. Huge battle scars covered his body, proof of his countless fights and victories.

You stared at his scars very intensely. He almost thought you were thrown off by them or maybe even disturbed, if not for your next moves proving him wrong. Since you suddenly started groping his body, touching him all over with your hands. Chest, belly, and waist, all of it while not leaving a single spot untouched.

The face he pulled was almost funny. Poor boy looked so confused yet also slightly embarrassed, were you implying that you didn’t care about those hideous marks? As if you could read his mind, you commented, “your scars are nice, I like them.” He wasn’t ashamed of them, since they were his trophies, his achievements, yet calling them pretty was a white lie. At least that’s what he thought, until you changed his view on them.

To his surprise, you started kissing those scars and licking them, before you eventually left new marks behind. It ranged from bites to hickeys. Some spots were fortunate and only had red dots, other parts were less lucky and are now plagued with bruises. It almost looked like he just went to a battlefield with a beast.

Honestly? For someone who’s basically the definition of fighting, he had surprisingly delicate skin.

Despite how bold you seemed, making a move on him like that, you were actually struggling internally. What could you do to make him abandon those useless thoughts, to make him tied to you forever? It has to be something you haven’t tried yet, and it has to make him go crazy. Otherwise, you will end up in a situation like today again. Then a pretty unholy thought crossed your mind, one that made you smirk to yourself. If you made him into a sex-drunk slut, maybe he'd be dependent on you? Haha, what a joke. No way in hell that dumb idea could work. But... it wouldn't hurt to try…?

“Mhmm… uhnng- hah, haa…” In the meantime blade furrowed his brows, throwing a hand over his mouth to muffle his whimpers. You weren’t playing today, attacking his sensitive spot from the get-go. Fingertips brushed over his chest, all the way to his pelvis, stopping right above where he wanted you the most. “Tsk.” The now seemingly annoyed male clicked his tongue at your playful antics, avoiding eye contact due to his own embarrassment. How did things escalate to this anyway? Weren’t you two just arguing? Today was supposed to be the day he ended it all. Yet here he was, adding more sins to his record.

Just as he decided to indulge himself once more, you stopped. To his surprise you pulled away from him, standing up to grab some tools you’ll need for your plan, leaving him all alone on the bed. Well, this was awkward now. Him, sitting all nude on your mattress while you were fully dressed, fumbling with your drawer. Talk about ruining the mood, were you trying to tease him, or to torment him?

After a short while you came back holding a few toys as well as a bottle of lube. There were so many different things to choose from. Out of nowhere aa thought crossed his mind, could it be that you were going to use him as a stress relief? Somehow his cheeks flushed at the possibility, having you treat him like an object would be better than with care and adoration.

On your way back you noticed a certain crimson fabric lying around on the ground, hidden beneath all the other layers. It was the ribbon that was usually tied around his back. You picked it up with your free hand, or the hand with less stuff to carry, and then threw all of the tools onto the mattress. A fully developed blush covered his cheeks now, he was also fully erect.

What a naughty boy, all hard already with such a desperate look in his eyes. Did the sight of these toys finally ring a bell? You couldn’t mask your excitement behind an angry facade anymore. No matter how much he hurts you, everything is alright again the moment you remember just how gorgeous your pretty boy is. Are you too easy? Yes. Do you give a damn? Heck no.

“Stay still.” You told him as you held his wrists together, slowly binding them behind his back. To do that, you had to flip him over first. Now he was kneeling, holding his ass up high in the air. His muscles immediately tensed, not because of you tying him up, but due to the humiliation he felt in that moment. This position was really shameful, yet he couldn’t help but get excited.

Exposing himself like this, how it brought forth shameless memories. The rope you used was unexpectedly long, so you had to tie it into a bow for it to stay out of the way. It looked really adorable actually. Him, all vulnerable and at your mercy with no possibility to escape. Oh, how you wished you could just tie him up and never let him go. Sadly, he was too strong and would be able to break free from any kind of restraint. What a shame, wasn’t it?

You pressed down on his shoulder to make him arch his back further, earning a small gasp from the male. He couldn’t see or guess what you were doing since you were behind him, so he was being very cautious. Focussing on every rustle and movement he could sense, which also led to him being extra sensitive. Being on such high alert has its on advantages and weaknesses.

That was the reason why he twitched at every contact you created with him. Ever since he started seeing you, he has not only cursed his immortality but also his sensitivity which seems to multiply with each day he spends within your care. Did you feed him anything funny or how was it even possible?

You on the other hand were admiring his toned body, he looked like a sculpture with how perfect he was. Porcelain skin paired with the scars you have caressed already, hickeys and bites all over his frame as well as the faint blush clouding his face. The red ribbon wrapped around him like some accessories was a nice contrast to his pale complexion, or his back muscles that always make you go feral over him. This man was such a fine piece of art; does he really not know? Sometimes you wondered if he was just acting. It only he himself knew what a gem he was.

After finally snapping back to reality, you squeezed his butt cheek with one hand, spreading it slightly to reveal his pink hole. Then using the other hand to squish the bottle of lube, watching the contents drop and drip down his body. First his entrance, then his balls, all the way to his thighs. “Hnng- give me a head up next time..” The coldness of the liquid caught him a little off guard, earning you a yelp from the male. You didn’t even pay attention to his words, you were focused on how the lube slowly ran down his body.

This looked no different than an erotic game, everything was so perverted you almost felt shameful. He shivered a little due to the temperature of the lube was, still not used to it. Cut him some slack, alright? It was the total opposite of his burning hot skin after all. But his body temperature caused you worries as well, it was as if he had a fever. Head spinning while every inch of his body was on fire, heating up like never before.

You had to bite onto your own bottom lip to concentrate, whenever you were with him you got carried off so easily. Damn his pretty face. Really, you had to control yourself to not just force a dildo inside him here and now. Without any further delay, since your patience was on a thin line, you stuck one finger inside his ass, wriggling it around in circles.

“HmM-hngg.." A low hiss escaped him at the sudden intrusion, his rim clenched down onto you almost instantly. “Calm down, I’m preparing you for something way worse than this.” Did you really have to word it like that? This was only making him more nervous and excited. But he had to try to follow your request since it’s what you wanted from him. Even now he was acting on instincts, on the instincts you taught him, on how to be your good boy.

Blade took a few deep breaths until he inhaled and exhaled at a steady pace. After a good minute, he was ready to take more, which is why a second finger joined in soon. This time his reaction was a little less heretic. His shoulders still jumped upwards as well as him throwing his head back due to the sensations, yet that was it. You were able to split and fold him apart without any further troubles.

Eventually you changed the rubbing and trusting motions you previously used to scissoring ones, while watching him struggle not to break your restraints. What a good boy he was, only for you, the training payed off. How will you ever be able to find someone as adorable as him? His whines also picked up, and more lewd sounds of pleasure slipped from him. “Mhmm.. uhHH.!! Damn..it, haaAHH..." Gosh, he was too cute.

You swore listening to those blissful whimpers of his is erasing all your stress, as well as adding years to your lifespan. Gradually, your digits moved faster inside him, pressing against his spongy walls and making him gasp for air. You could feel his soft yet warm insides twitch around you, almost as if his body was begging for more. At this rate, he was going to cum before you get to the main part.

Which is why you stopped, pulling your fingers out of him. As soon as you took them out, his rim clenched around nothing and tensed up. A string of lube connected your fingertips with his hole, it stuck to both sides and refused to let loose. You reached for the bottle again, adding more lubricant to the already enormous amount. “HnnGh… y/n.” The way he moaned your name was so hot, he doesn’t even know just how much you adored him. Everything about him got you acting up like an animal.

Ahhh… That’s it, you couldn’t hold back anymore. On one hand, you wanted to tease him with a toy to the point he begs for you to fuck him, until he tells you how much he needs your dick. Then again you also want to pound into his puffy little hole til he’s a whiny, crying mess, who can’t stop sobbing about how amazing you feel. Until he tells you only yours can satisfy him. You wanted to make him into a slut so badly. What to do? Both options are nice, and they always give great results. Maybe first the toy, and if he begs enough the other choice? While you were still contemplating your choices, the boy distracted you.

“Hurry up.. uh-ugh... teasing me like this isn’t like you.” Blade complained, squinting his eyes while looking away. No way, he is begging you already, when all you’ve done was a little fingering? “Haha~ so needy today, aren’t you? You only show this side to me don’t you, Bladie?” You couldn't let such a fitting opportunity slip and had to tease him about it.

The blush on his face darkened again, his ears and shoulders had been infected too. Your question was met with a meek nod before silence occurred again. He only shows this side to you, only you and no one else. Heh. “My, since you like it so much.” You grabbed the silicon toy and pressed the tip against him, before slowly inserting it. Sharp gasps and groans can be heard from him, his hands clutched the sheets like his life depended on it.

“Wa-wait… y/n, y-y/n.?! It’s too su-sudden, mhmm, ah fuck..” The poor boy was gazing at you over his shoulder, his hands clenching the restrains with newfound despair. Was he really stretched enough to take something so big inside him? God.. the shame, curiosity and pleasure are mingling inside him, mixing together into a perfect blend. You always managed to make him excited and on edge, you made his life much more tolerable than before.

When the tip was inside him, he was already mewling and shaking. The deeper you penetrated him, the louder he became. At the point where you finally reach the half, he was already groaning and blabbering useless things, incoherent nonsense like, “ah, too-! MhHm, good?! oHH, ah, y/NNNnmm..!!” His moans were like blessings to your ears, the most beautiful singing that could put sirens to shame.

It didn’t take long before the entire thing was inside him, you prepared him a lot after all and you were quite generous with the lube. “Ah.. fuck, I- mhm, mo-more...” What a greedy boy, he just got what he wanted and he’s already craving more. You couldn’t help but giggle at that, cooing gently. “Shh, get used to this first.” After all that drama, you still tried to be gentle with him, to make him feel good and become dependent on you. Yet reality shows it backfired. Blade grinned a little, his feisty, kind of intimidating smirk. And it caught you off guard.

Out of nowhere, he mocked you in a snickering tone, “is- mhm, this all you’ve go-got?” He tried to taunt you, but still stumbled over his words a little. His stuttering was almost cute if it weren’t for the words he voiced out. “Huh?” You replied, seemingly annoyed now. “You said.. hah, that you’ll, ha-hnghhh… make me stay, so do- fuck..!! Do it.” What’s gotten into him, his mood just did a whole 180. Suddenly he turned into a brat? Oh how he has done it, he dug his own grave, you weren't going to be nice to such an annoying thing.

You grabbed his bottom and spread it with your hands, the dildo inserted into him was being pushed to one side. His eyes widened as if he was a deer caught in headlights, finally reaching the point of realising what he got himself into. He grit his teeth enough for you to hear, all while the ribbon started binding him to rip. Sweat was rolling down his forehead, his eyes exposed how much he loved every single second of this. Not long after, you lined your own length against him, slowly penetrating him. Now even you were amazed at how loose he was since he was able to fit two inside.

It was an act of impulse, to fill him up like that, though now you were getting into it. Just the thought of it was kind of hot, him, taking two dicks inside that adorable pink hole of his? “UgHH!! mhMM- gaAhHH!! AhHHH <3!! Too bi-big..!” Blade complained once again, his knuckles turned white with how he was clenching his fists. “Too much.., n-no!! Slower, my stomach feels so full..♡♡”

So now he’s whining about it being too much when he had been such a whore moments before, begging for more? Oh no, you weren’t going to stop now, not when he seemed to be enjoying himself so much. I mean, he was whimpering as tears collect in his eye sockets, marks from his nails forming on his palm due to the pure strength he was using. His hands weren’t on his back anymore, instead above his head and writhing away.

The way he squirmed and trashed around, desperately trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure and sensations, ahh you loved him so much! Then how about you comment on his poor, neglected cock? How it's twitching around all uselessly while dirtying your sheets? There were so many things you could do to him, and you had all the time in the world.

It took a little fighting, but you eventually bottomed out inside him. Finally fitting both of the lengthy dicks inside his soft, hot walls. “Haah, shit, you are too tight.” You growled, he didn’t know if it was a compliment or not. On the other hand there was no way you could move when he’s been stuffed full like this, the tight muscle was holding onto you for dear life. His rim squeezed you as if it would break if not. That’s when you heard sobs emerging from him, paired with the most erotic moans you’ve encountered ever.

“Oh-hmHhH!!! AhhHHhnn, fuck, fuck, fuuUckKK! Y/n, oh please..” A rough voice which used to be at least a few octaves deeper was now itching closer to the high-pitched singing of a mockingbird, alongside hiccups standing in his own way each time he opened his mouth. Simply heavenly, there were no words to describe this beautiful scenery in front of you.

And to think you were the cause of it, oh dear, he really wanted to seduce you, doesn't he?

If he really wanted to break up with you, he shouldn’t make such sounds! In the end, you had to wait quite a bit until he got somewhat used to it, so that you could move your hips slightly. Blade on the other side buried his face between your pillows, bawling his eyes out. It hurt, yet it felt so good it was mind breaking. Oh lord, he could feel himself getting stretched so much that it was almost scary.

“HnNGhh.. ahh-hic, y/n.. I feel so fu-full- damn it m’ gonna break if you continue!” Sweat rolled down his face, hair stuck to his body and his precum was everywhere. Thighs, shaft, and sheets, you name it. What a messy boy he was, so dirty, filthy and lovable. You stroked his back while he sobbed, rubbing his sacrum and spine causing him to shudder even more, just the lightest touches were enough to make him succumb to bliss and ecstasy that were otherworldly. Seriously, at this rate he was really going to break..!

Then you grabbed his hair and yanked on his locks, whispering in a soft tone again, “Bladie, you have to loosen up a little. I can barely fuck you.” “MhmMMM!! Do-don’t say it like that..! You’re embarrassing me!” Aha, so talking dirty can still earn you a loud groan from the boy, he was just as sensible as at the start of your session. If not, he only got more sensitive. You tamed him well.

The pain he felt was quickly converted into pleasure, confusing his body and tad bit. Don’t you know he’s trying his best? He’s never taken two at the same time, he could swear his butt was going to tear at any moment. Though all these tingles he felt with no end in sight, the way his nerves were being stimulated on a whole new level he couldn’t fathom, yea it was worth it.

This was pure paradise, the first paradise he got to savour. He could swear this was something normally only aeons could get to enjoy, that’s how exhilarating these emotions were. You noticed how he tried to take everything you gave him, to accommodate it and make it fit, but to no avail of course. In honour of his efforts, you added some more lube and pressed your dick deeper inside him. This time it reached his sweet spot, hitting his prostate with such accuracy it made him see the pearly gates. The boy couldn’t help but growl out loud again, “AaaAahHHH.. ♥︎♡!!! OoHh- mhMm, too deeeEEKK!!”

The way you stared at him got him breathless, it made him feel ashamed and humiliated. Letting you see all those despicable sides of him was too much, he only wanted to show you his best after all. “Do-don’t look at me.. so intensely.” Blade whined, nuzzling his face into the mattress. “Why not?” You asked him with a lewd grin, licking your lips as you admired how adorable he looked.

“I’m fi-filthy, and it’s humiliating…!” Now he’s suddenly being humble and self-conscious? When he was just teasing you moments ago? Your gaze changed into a sickly sweet one, loving, possessive even. “Don’t worry bladie, in my eyes, you are an angel.” Then you ran your fingertips over his skin again, before pulling them back to have a better grip on his body.

Every time you moved even the slightest bit, he’d let out the most intense and lewd noises ever, as if he copied them straight from a porno. The poor man was so ashamed, he didn’t know what to do. Everything you did to him felt just too damn good, he couldn’t keep himself under control. Now he was biting the soaked pillows in a pathetic attempt to muffle those sweet whimpers, shaking his ass due to his knees going weak under him. Your poor pillow.. it was wet with tears and drool, also a bit of sweat. Well, not that you even noticed.

"Fuck this is hot.” That was all you could think of in that situation. How could you think of anything but your dearest boyfriend after all? A wicked smile pestered your features while your eyes took in the view. If you had one wish, you’d wish time would stop at exactly this moment, you would have been so content. Gods, aeons, please, you needed this man so badly it was a curse. It was gnawing away at you from the inside!

The overflowing desire took over your rational mind, and you suddenly started pounding into him at a rough pace. All you wanted was more, more of him, more of his voice, more of this control you held over him. Now you were consumed by lust and greed huh? “AahHHGH?!? Y-y/nNN..! MhmMngHN...?!?” So unbelievably mean you were, rutting into him like he was some used, cheap-ass whore. As if he was nothing but your flashlight, your rag doll. He secretly loved it, but he would never tell you. Even if he was a dead men, he valued his dignity.

With one hand you grabbed his waist, with the other hand, you held the dildo to keep it in its rightful place, in case it slipped out. Damn it, you aren't leaving him any choices, are you? Not that he wanted to escape anyway. Once again your stunning little lover couldn't hold his tears back, sobbing in a meek voice about how you were too fast and too huge.

“Bi-biiiig… too mMHmm, biiiiiggg..!!” Choked out whines was all that filled the room, alongside his adorable mewling. Each time your hips snapped against his, you would create loud slapping noises that are being echoed through the room. His dick would also swing around and hit his tummy. This happened so often that strings of sticky precum connected his belly with the tip of his cock.

During your own excitement, you started babbling nonstop, repeating the same words over and over again. “Blade, fuuuck. I love you, I love you so much. Stay with me, don't leave. I love you.”

Somehow your hand found itself entangled in his long, dark blue hair again. Yanking on them like it was some makeshift leash, getting off to the sight of his pained face. How his eyes rolled back, tongue stuck out and body shaking like a weak, helpless animal. Would it be too mean and sadistic for you to say you took pleasure in him being vulnerable? He himself also couldn't form coherent sentences anymore, he has lost that skill for quite a while now. All Blade could do was scream out your name and beg for god-knows-what, while hoping you'll grant him some relief soon.

“Y/n, y/nnN! OohHH, ha-AhhNhhnN~!! Touch my di-dick too... please, oh ple-please~ mhmm...!” Right, there was still that useless yet cute little thing hanging between his legs. You hadn't touched it even once, hence why it was an angry shade of red and all swollen. Despite all that, nothing can beat how bruised up and abused his hole was. You weren’t as tender with him as you planned to, well, this was fine too.

“No way, I’m only going to fuck your pussy here.” As always, you just can't keep your mouth shut once you see his flustered and fucked out expressions, spewing one nonsense after another. "Ahh.. I'm clo-cloOohhsee <3, fuck me harder, please, y/n, please please please!!" Now he was over the moon, having already abandoned any shred of dignity he might have had beforehand.

The tears decorated his pretty face, trailing off his cheeks shone brightly. Every erotic word in the book could be heard coming from his lips, enticing you to give it your best to pound him until he gets drunk on the pleasure. He probably was already but wouldn’t hurt to keep going, right? It was also your initial plan anyway, if you hadn't lost yourself in his moans like that.

“It's alright, cum for me darling. I love you.” You reassured him, caressing his scalp now instead of tugging on it. After thinking about it for a few seconds… wouldn't this mean he is cumming untouched? This adorable but perverted bastard. Heh.

For Blade, these words of reassurance were all he needed to hear right now, that was enough to snap the final straw within him and make him finish all over the sheets. “Ah-aahHnnGHN uhNHMMM!!! Cumming- I’m cummingnnn!! <3~~!!” That was basically a scream, he was so loud, you were sure everyone on the spaceship must have heard him. All his comrades and subordinates. Somehow that made you very happy, now everyone will know your relationship is still healthy and you two have no plans of going separate ways. Not like you would have let him anyway.

If you didn't consider your bed defiled before, now you obviously do. A nice and huge load shoot out of his poor member, covering the area beneath him in white. The wet spots were overwhelming, it was so nasty that you couldn’t help but smile. As for blade, it would be an understatement to simply say he was exhausted. He was way more than just that. You basically fucked every sense of self he had out of him, turning his brain into mush that could only beg for more of your touch.

After receiving and having a taste of the Paradies on earth, he won't be able to turn back anymore. Everything was just to bind him to you forever. Well, this was fine too, if you execute everything in the right way, he won't be able to go a day without thinking about you ever again! (As if he wasn’t like that before already) His body will remember you and only you, until it can only be pleased by you. Even if you had to turn him into a cock hungry slut, you would gladly do it.

Come on, your obsession was justified! Just look at him, he's everything you ever wanted in a man, he was your only desire. Your world, your colours, your breath. If he isn’t with you, you’ll lose your mind. Then everything becomes to tasteless. What do they say again? Love changes a person.

His skin shone due to the thin layer of sweat covering his body, eyes still rolled into the back of his skull since his brain was still processing the sensations and pleasures up to this point. His orgasm and the aftermath made him so tired and battered, even after waiting for a good minute he couldn't calm down nor move a single muscle.

When you pulled out of him and took the toy out as well, his stretched entrance was gaping as if he wanted to be filled again. Then you untied his wrists, throwing the red ribbon onto the ground. Evidence of the binds and his struggles were left behind, pretty marks were around his tender wrist. You’ll need to apply some medicine later. How must he feel? Even you were a little shaken by all that tension, and you weren't even on the receiving end.

After giving him another minute to catch his breath, you deemed him conscious enough to understand your words. Without hesitation and a single ounce of shame, you whispered into his ear, "you are mine and I’m yours, bladie~ So please, stay with me, even after your immortality ends."

Tags: @ghostiegirl56 @thisisnotangel @ghostgoosygoose @i-dont-fooken-know @chuuya-brainrot @allyfoxglove @thigh-o-saur @fallenthemisticalyingyang @fem-dom-roze @sh1-n0bu

Nini!rant 2.0:

Being a yandere irl is not hot at all, it’s creepy as heck (but in fiction I’m down for a pathetic whimpy clumsy yandere)

Yandere is a word mixed from two different ones and ordinates from Japanese. The first is ‘yanderu’, which means “to be sick,” and the second is ‘deredere’, it means smt like “lovestruck” — so yandere just describes someone who’s sickly in love, or, loves someone to the point it’s sick.

Often times they are depicted in one way only. The typical, disgusting and intimidating ones. Kidnapping their darling while threatening/ killing anyone who comes to close to them, or the potential love rivals. Due to these rather… extrem methods, yandere’s are often depicted as doms. But yandere come in all flavours, they don’t have to be just dom.

To be obsessive in love can go both ways, to want to possess the person, or to want to worship the ground they walk on. Sometimes the person doesn’t even know they were a yandere, thinking what they did was alright. There are also yandere’s that love & hate their darling, which is an interesting dynamic?

[sturnioz]

I really want a confident!reader fic bc I LOVE fratboy!chris being mean (it’s literally the best part) but I also LOVE is she is like ‘mmm no.’ But not like a bratty way yk just standing up for herself, she knows her worth

(Also shes doing a law degree so miss girl can argueeee)

"can you stop touchin' my shit?" chris glares from across the bedroom, his eyes narrowed as he watches you browse his cluttered desk. he's sprawled on his bed, fingers deftly rolling a joint with new coloured papers you insisted on having. you've always been his most difficult customer, and he doesn't bother hiding his annoyance. "didn't bring you up here so you could put your claws on everythin' — cut it out."

"mm, no." you hum, smacking your glossy lips together as you pick up a broken dab pen. disgust flashes across your face at the sticky oil that coats your fingers, and with a dismissive flick of your wrist, you drop it back onto his desk with a loud thud.

grabbing a few tissues from a nearby box, definitely used for some late night activities, you wipe your hands clean, tossing the used tissue aside like it's nothing.

"pick up your mess. now."

your gaze darts around the chaos of his room, raising an eyebrow at the scattered clothes and empty bottles. "right... 'cos a tissue on your desk is really crossing the line."

chris lets out a frustrated laugh, his tongue prodding at his cheek in irritation. "and you're really pissin' me off."

"boo-fucking-hoo — can you hurry up? i don't want to be stuck here any longer than i have to."

"you're the one who decided t'be difficult as fuck 'n want pink skins," chris scoffs, licking the edge of the paper. "not my fault you're not satisfied with what y'get.. some fuckin' spoiled brat you are."

"and yet, you still want my money." you retort, crossing your arms with a smirk.

"do you always have t'be bitchy 'n talk back?"

"why? am i hurting your feelings?" you fake a pout, relishing the way his agitation grows — his jaw tightens, nostrils flaring as he finishes rolling a few joints before shoving them into a baggy, and he holds it out to you.

you snatch it from his hand with a grin, staring at it like it's a trophy. then, with another flick of your wrist, you toss a few crumpled dollar bills in his direction, hitting him square in the face.

he huffs, tightening his grip on the bills. "thanks."

"you're so welcome," you reply, spinning around to head towards the door, the sharp clicking of your heels echoing throughout the room as you approach the exit. curling your fist around the doorknob to head back to the party, you quickly peer over your shoulder, flashing chris a sarcastic smile. "don't forget to have these ready next time, 'kay? wasting your customers' time is not good for business."

"fuck you."

"you wish, sweetheart."

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 3]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.2K

Hongjoong, along with some other Ateez members, stood with him in the now quiet area of the abandoned building. He stepped to the side, clicking his tongue when he saw the blood splatter had gotten onto his new Oxford loafers.

"We're taking this guy with us, right?" San held up the leader, who was on the brink of death but still alive compared to his fellow gang members that have fallen.

"Yeah, keep him in the dungeon. We need him alive for interrogation." Seonghwa said, his hands going into the pockets of his coat.

"Should I get a clean up crew?" Jongho asked, his foot kicking one of the dead man's leg away so he could walk.

"Don't bother. Just torch the place." Hongjoong said, a freshly lit cigarette hanging from his lips. Mingi raised his eyebrows, looking at Seonghwa, who sighed and nodded his head.

"Alright. Let's torch it." Mingi rubbed his hands excitedly.

"Let's go then." The rest walked out. San dragged the man's body with him, throwing him into the trunk of their car.

"Please..." The male coughed blood.

"We're not letting you go that easy, you're going to wish death came faster. Better rest up, you have a lot to do." San smiled and patted the man's cheek before shutting the trunk. He climbed into the car that already had Hongjoong in the passenger seat. Seonghwa rode along in Jongho's car.

BOOM!

Looking out the window, the 4 watched as the 2-storey building became engulfed in flames. Mingi emerged with a satisfied smile, climbing onto his bike.

"He always get weirdly excited about blowing things up." Hongjoong shook his head with a chuckle.

"That's Mingi for you." San laughed, beginning to drive away from the scene. Mingi sped past them on his bike, flipping them off.

"If it's a race he wants, it's a race he gets." San growled and began to speed. Jongho seemed to get the memo too because he was revving to catch up and overtake them.

"Ah, you guys are crazy. Seonghwa's gonna get motion sick." Hongjoong said, knowing his best friend well.

"Well, if he pukes, at least it's not my car." San shrugged.

"You guys already race on a regular basis. Do you really have to race right now?" Hongjoong asked. Of course he was joking, he didn't care that the boys wanted to race now. Everyone in Ateez was very competitive, no matter what the subject was.

"Nice!" Hongjoong hi fived San when he pulled up a split second before Jongho. Mingi had already reached way before them, there was no beating him on a motorbike.

"I hate you all!" Seonghwa yelled as he fell out of the passenger seat. Hongjoong laughed and took a video of him on the ground.

"San, unload the cargo." Hongjoong instructed, referring to the guy in the trunk.

"Yes, hyung." San drove the car down to the basement while Hongjoong went to help Seonghwa up and they walked in through the front door.

"Hyung, you're back! I need help." Wooyoung ran over excitedly.

"What is it?" Hongjoong looked at him quizically, sitting down on the couch and Wooyoung took the adjacent armchair.

"Paint swatches for the new casino. I need your artistic eye." Wooyoung poured out all the paint swatches. In the middle, he placed the colour scheme of the intended decor and vibes. Wooyoung and San were the ones that managed the casino businesses that belonged to Ateez.

"It's hard to tell from just the pictures, can we not do this on site? I have time until my next meeting, we can go now." Hongjoong asked the younger.

"O-Oh! Okay, sure. Let me change and I'll meet you in the basement." Wooyoung ran upstairs.

"Get me a coffee in a mug." Hongjoong said to one of the maids.

"Yes, sir." She bowed and ran to the kitchen. Hongjoong slumped back into the couch. He looked at his hand, he could remove the bandages today. Maybe he'll do it when he gets home.

"Sir." A butler handed Hongjoong a to-go mug of coffee. Hongjoong took it and headed down to the basement.

"I'm here, hyung." Wooyoung jogged over, dressed in a black shirt with the first two buttons open and the sleeves rolled up, and dress pants.

One thing Hongjoong appreciated, as someone who values fashion, is that all the Ateez members dressed up well too. They also liked to dress up and look good, no matter where they were going. Yes, they mainly wore suits but they were all different.

"How's the hand?" Wooyoung asked as he drove.

"It's fine, I'll remove the bandages when I come back. We've all been injured before, this is minor considered to the gunshots that we've dealt with." Hongjoong said.

"I know... But you know this is under different circumstances, hyung." Wooyoung said boldly.

"Just because my mother died, it doesn't mean I'm fragile now. I'm not as torn up about it as you all think." He replied.

"Did you tell your construction crew that we are dropping by? There's no point going in if they are going to board up the place." Hongjoong changed the subject.

"Yeah, I sent the contractors a message that we'll be stopping by." Wooyoung hummed.

When Wooyoung pulled up, they saw the contractors there, already waiting for him and Hongjoong. The smell of the construction site irked Hongjoong slightly but he didn't express it, merely taking a sip of his coffee. There were some words exchanged between the contractors and Wooyoung.

"Hyung, this way." Wooyoung nodded towards the entrance of the building. Hongjoong looked around the place as they walked in, the place was coming together nicely.

"Get me one of the arm chairs." Wooyoung ordered.

"Yes, boss." The men went away.

"The furniture arrived earlier than expected so they've just been put aside until the finishing touches are done and the place is painted." Wooyoung informed.

"It's looking nice, Wooyoung. Once the paint is up, it'll come together very well." Hongjoong said in approval.

Even if the members updated each other on their projects, Hongjoong respected them and never interjected unless asked.

"Boss." The contractors placed one of the armchairs that will be used by the big wall. Another one of the workers brought in a standing light since the light fixtures were not working yet.

"Leave us." Wooyoung waved them off. They bowed and walked away. With some painter's tape, Wooyoung taped the paint swatches to the wall above the armchair so he and Hongjoong could look at it properly and visualise it.

"I do like the classic burgundy but painting the walls that shade might seem too tacky or old fashioned." Hongjoong said.

"San and I agree. That's why we're exploring dark shades of blue. It wouldn't feel too stuffy like if we were to go with a red shade. It'll make it feel cooler." Wooyoung nodded.

"Hmm... I like Prussian blue but it is too dark. What if we go lighter?" Hongjoong advised.

"What about this?" Wooyoung held up the book to the wall since he didn't take that many swatches.

"Nice. Come see." Hongjoong swapped placed with Wooyoung, holding up the book for him to step back and see. Wooyoung nodded in approval and took a picture.

"I'll show it to Sannie then we'll get to painting." Wooyoung said.

"Good, I can't wait to see it come together." Hongjoong smiled, patting Wooyoung's shoulder. After they were done, and Wooyoung was able to give some instructions to the contractors, the two of them headed back home. Hongjoong still had work to do and paperwork to go over.

Besides the underground businesses, there were legitimate businesses that Ateez ran as well. That's how they were able to build their reputation in the business world.

"I put the newest contracts on your desk, hyung." Yunho said as he jogged past Hongjoong.

"Thanks, Yunho." Hongjoong nodded and headed to his office.

"Ah, finally." He sunked into his plush chair. Sitting up, Hongjoong began to unwrap the bandage that you had put around his injured hand. Honestly, it was looking a lot better than before.

"Where is..." Looking around the place, he tried to find the tub of salve that you gave him.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Come in." Hongjoong threw the small tub into his drawer. The butler entered Hongjoong's office with a bow, informing him that he had some visitors come.

"What visitor?" Hongjoong raised an eyebrow with suspicion and caution. He stood up, grabbing his blazer on the way out the door. He wore it and buttoned it as he approached the staircase and went downstairs to the living room area.

"What's going on here?" He asked when he saw Yeosang, Seonghwa and Jongho, guns drawn to the three men that stood there.

"Hongjoong sshi. Could you tell your men to keep their weapons?" The man smiled eerily.

"They can do as they like. What's your purpose here? We gave you mercy by letting you go despite having stolen from us. Did you not appreciate that?" Hongjoong raised an eyebrow.

"O-Of course we do. We're merely here to offer our condolences. We heard what happened to your mother." The man stuttered slightly.

"Just let me shut him up permenantly, hyung." Jongho growled. Hongjoong held a hand up.

Hongjoong remembers that day well, they left most of this clan's men dead, only a handful that were barely hanging by a thread. Death was always an easy way out.

"We all know you're not here to offer condolences. Cut to that chase, what do you want?" Hongjoong smirked, crossing his arms.

"I'm here to make amends to Ateez. There's a rumour that the smaller gangs are forming together to take over your territories. They think you're going to be down with your mother's death so they're aiming to strike your territory first." The leader said, his face changing to one of confidence and pride.

"That's all? Do you really not think that we face threats to our territory everyday?" Hongjoong scoffed and the other Ateez members present laughed too.

"For wasting our time, I suggest we take compensation." Seonghwa tilted his head. The 3 men took a step back.

"Good idea, hyung." Yeosang smiled.

"That's true. I don't like people wasting my time AND I don't like people showing up unannounced, especially here." Hongjoong nodded in agreement.

"So that should be two compensations but maybe we only take one? Are we feeling nice today?" Jongho turned to the others.

"Hmm, whatever you guys want." Hongjoong shrugged, turning away to head back up the stairs.

"You'll regret this, Kim Hongjoong!" He heard the leader yell as he ran away with one of his men, leaving the other to be taken by the 3 Ateez members.

Everyone called Ateez the devils, with Hongjoong being the worst amongst all of them. But that's the only way to wield power, to strike fear in people. Everything they do serves as a lesson to others. In the underground world, it's kill or be killed.

"Aww, I missed out on the fun." Mingi said, looking over everything from the second floor banister.

"Don't worry, I have a feeling there will be more where that came from." Hongjoong chuckled and Mingi smirked at that.

"I need a coffee." He went back to his office, going to the coffee maker to make a triple shot espresso. Hongjoong could already feel a major migraine coming on.

Sitting back down, he retrieved the salve you made and haphazardly put them over his healing cuts.

"Hmm..." There was a slight cooling feeling but nothing else.

"Hyung? I'm ba- What's that smell?" Yunho sniffed the slightly herbal smell in the air. Hongjoong cleared his throat and sat up, putting the salve jar away.

"Just something to help with my injury." Hongjoong said awkwardly. Yunho raised an eyebrow.

"You went to see that girl... didn't you? The one that went to your mother's funeral. I know that she's a florist but she knows botany as well. That's the only place you would get herbal medicine." Yunho teased Hongjoong with a knowing smile. Hongjoong glared at the taller male.

"She's a business owner in my territory. Of course I would go visit her, I always visit the businesses from time to time." Hongjoong said through gritted teeth.

"Sure~" Yunho sang. He reached over to pick up the jar that Hongjoong failed to hide under his papers.

"Is this good? Can I try?" He asked.

"Give me that! No, you can't try it." Hongjoong snatched the jar back with a hiss, throwing it back into his drawer. Yunho snickered at the captain's almost flustered behaviour.

"Yunho, I'm busy. What is it you came here for?" Hongjoong sighed, rubbing his temples.

"I'll let you change the subject for now. But yes, I went to discuss the logistics for our upcoming gala." Yunho said.

"Okay. Show me." Hongjoong leaned forward as Yunho placed his laptop on the desk. He pulled up some documents showing Hongjoong his notes, the bill, pictures, everything related to the upcoming gala that they're hosting.

"This is good. Present all this to the rest at our next group meeting, I want them to weigh in on it and see what they think before you go forward with the plans." Hongjoong said.

"Okay. I'll chase the other suppliers for more accurate quotations." Yunho nodded, closing the laptop.

"So, hyung. About the girl..." Yunho raised his eyebrows.

"What? There's nothing about her." Hongjoong replied a little too quickly with a small frown, showing his discomfort about this subject. Yunho bit back his snicker.

"She really knew your mom?" Yunho asked. Hongjoong stiffened at the mention of his mother.

"Yes, no... Well, I don't know." Hongjoong sighed.

"She says she knows my mother but when she speaks about her, it is like we're talking about entirely different people. The person she knew wasn't the mother I knew." He explained.

"That's confusing... And frustrating." Yunho hummed with a nod of his head. Hongjoong let out a grunt of agreement. Yes, his mother was dead but why was he so bothered by this random girl that knew his mother too? Deep down, he knew that she can't change his perception of his mother but it intrigued him.

"Don't think too much about it. The others don't need to know about any of this." Hongjoong shot Yunho a look.

"My lips are sealed." Yunho did the action of zipping his lips.

"If that's all, I need to go for my tailor appointment." Hongjoong checked the time and stood up, turning his computer off. Yunho nodded and walked out with him.

"Don't you usually get our tailor to come to the house to do everything?" Yunho asked.

"Yes but I have a meeting nearby and I wanted to try doing it in the shop this time. Go out for some fresh air too." Hongjoong shrugged.

"Have fun, hyung. Good luck." Yunho wished. Hongjoong waved and headed downstairs to his car. It felt good to drive his own car again, even if it had only been a few days.

"Hey, Seonghwa. I'm going to meet with the new weapons dealer right now to see what he's all about then stop by the tailor for get a new suit done for the gala. Can you take care of the interrogation for me? You can take one of the boys with you." Hongjoong requested.

"You're going to meet a stranger that we've never met before and you didn't take back up?"

"It's fine. I can manage it. Plus, we're meeting in a public place. I highly doubt he'll try anything. But is that a yes on the interrogation?" Hongjoong asked.

"Can I ask Jongho to do it? I have a race tonight, it's a big one."

"Sure, please make sure that he knows what information we're trying to extract." Hongjoong hummed.

"Of course. I'll also make sure that he stops the others from getting too carried away with the torture. The last prisoner died before we got anything good out of him."

"Exactly, that's why I wanted you to do it. You're more objective but I trust Jongho to do it too." He explained.

"I understand. I would say I trust Jongho to get what we need too. Plus, he has the strength to stop the others if they go overboard when trying to get answers. And back to the main issue, why are you going for a meet up without any backup? Should I send some men your way to guard the area?"

"No need, I'm fine. I can handle it myself. Have a good race tonight." Hongjoong wished.

"Thanks, stay safe. If you need backup, alert us."

"I will." Hongjoong promised and hung up. He didn't know what he would do without Seonghwa. They've known each other the longest and started Ateez together, Hongjoong knew he could count on him.

-

"That should be everything. Thanks again for doing this so last minute." The couple said, closing the trunk of their van.

"No worries. Have a good one." You smiled and bowed as they entered and drove off. The moment the van was out of sight, you let out a long sigh of exhaustion. This couple had changed their order last minute and you tried your best to accomodate them.

"At least they compensated." Was what you told yourself before heading back to the shop. It was closing time soon, you usually would have one or two customers at night.

"What a mess..." You sighed. Today was hectic, while rushing orders, you had no time to clean up and just left the mess.

"Good evening, are you open?" You heard a customer come through the door.

"Yes. How can I help you?" You wiped your hands on your apron. You helped the customer get what he needed. Thankfully he was content with choosing one of your premade bouquets.

"Do you prepare all these bouquets yourself?" He asked as you swiped his card for payment.

"Yes, I do." You giggled, handing him back his card.

"They're all very nice. Thanks, have a nice evening." He complimented. You smiled gratefully, walking him to the door and opening it for him to leave.

After that, you began to clear the area, composting the discarded plant parts before you could grab a broom to clean up the small bits and pieces. There was ribbon, tissue paper and wiring scattered everywhere. You kept all the spare materials in the trolley that you usually wheeled around.

"Now I'm hungry." You groaned. There was still two more hours until you had to close so you couldn't eat yet. You tried to pass time by answering to some customers enquires and order confirmations.

"Finally! Closing time." You threw your arms up in the air. You went to turn the 'CLOSED' sign and gathered all the trash to dispose of.

"Ugh..." As you were out back, you heard someone groan.

"H-Hello? Is anyone there?" You called out as you took a wary step back. The back alley was very dimly lit and you were not about to take any chances.

"W-Who is there?" Fumbling for your phone, you turned the flashlight on and saw a leg sticking out from where the recycled boxes were.

"Excuse me. Are you oka-" Your eyes widened as you took in the sight in front of you.

"Hongjoong sshi?!"

~

Series masterlist

[muchosbesitos]

YOU CAN’T RUN BUT YOU CAN (S)CREAM

innocent trip to a cabin in the woods with your friends. what could go wrong?

pairing: slashers! geto suguru & gojo satoru x fem reader

contents: horror au (non canon compliant), tongue piercing geto, dubcon (?), use of knives, blood play, unprotected p in v, spanking, nipple play, anal play (fingering and ass eating), fingering, oral (f & m receiving), face fucking, cum eating, and pet names (sweet cheeks, pretty, etc.)

author’s note: happy october :p

word count: 6.5k

This truly was something out of a cliché horror movie.

Missing poster after missing poster of people who stirred the nation in the past thirty years hung on every tree bark that the group van passed by, crows circled around the questionable looking cabin that you'd rented for the week (at a decent price, so you supposed you couldn't complain much), and rumors of two slashers followed you since you'd stepped foot into town. Gas clerks giving you puzzled looks when you mentioned your destination, wishing you the best of luck.

You were almost sure that you'd heard one of them whispering a quiet prayer after the five of you left the store, clutching a rosary in between their fingers.

The camp counselor that looked like they wanted to be anywhere but here, somehow seeming to have a stable connection despite the fact you couldn't get any more than one bar. "So, these are the bathrooms. Wouldn't recommend using them since they haven't been cleaned in like the past decade," they didn't even bother to look from their phone, smacking loudly on a piece of gum. This tour was really making you wish you hadn't cheaped out on the cabin.

"And finally, here we have the beds. They probably have fleas on there so just watch out," the camp counselor finally looked up from their phone to face you all. "And what about the rumors that are floating around about the two killers?" One of your friends asked behind you, forming a distance between themselves and the unsteady looking beds. "Probably just rumors. Dunno, don't really stick around after I collect my check."

And you already knew that they didn't exactly care about being reassuring, your suspicions only confirmed by the next words that came out of their mouth, "But just in case, you guys should probably get your affairs in order when you get a stable connection though."

The five of you were left alone to your own devices—having a compass (that you weren't even completely sure still worked properly) and a map hung up on a bulletin board outside the cabin, the edges fraying and the paper seeming like it was just one rain drop from falling apart. "Maybe we should go exploring in case that there is a killer roaming around. Get to know our surroundings," you suggested, hoping that it'd ease the already tense mood.

"And what if the killer's roaming around right now just waiting for the perfect opportunity?" One of your friend's boyfriends, one whose name you didn't really particularly to memorize, was the first one to respond. Like you were the one being stupid in this situation. You decided to bite back your tongue, looking over at the rest of your friends, "Anyone else want to go?"

You ended up going on your little exploration of the woods alone.

What you assumed was supposed to be a pond, only the hole remaining after the water all but evaporated, remained outside of the house. The stench of dead fish welcomed you when you took a couple steps closer to it, a few traces of dried blood on the sides. Probably just animal blood. Or at least, all you could do was hope that it was just animal blood. You continued walking through the rocky trail that the map indicated, spotting a couple of the landmarks highlighted.

While you walked, you couldn't help but feel as if something was lurking behind you. As if something was keeping eyes on every movement that you were making. But every time that you turned around, the most that you'd see would be a squirrel running through a patch of grass. "Hello?" You called out, your voice echoing through the leaves. Disappearing into nothing. And despite receiving no response, that uneasy feeling inside you refused to simmer.

You followed the map for a while—nothing that was really worth writing home about. Maybe the rumors had just been to attract more attention? Because it truly did look like just a basic campground.

A public bathroom that you could practically see the green fumes coming out of, dead flies scattered across the floor from the stench. A well that met the same fate as the pond, a small pool of water at the bottom. The only thing that seemed to be of aid if the rumors did turn out to be true was the camp counselor's cabin, the building in slightly better shape than the other one. A landline phone hung off the wall, though upon further inspection, it really only served as decoration.

A good enough hiding spot if needed, though.

You decided to go back to the cabin before the sun went down, since you were vastly unprepared when you'd made the decision to come out here. Your mosquito bitten legs being the stellar witnesses to that. A fire crackled in between of three logs set up, marshmallows and chocolate set on the side while some of your friends went out to gather a couple sticks. "Hey, I'm really sorry about the way that Logan acted earlier, he's just being a dick." So that was his name.

"You don't have to apologize, don't worry," you shrugged her off, getting the graham crackers that you'd packed in your bag beforehand. The man in question brought out a cooler of beer, and if you had to guess, he probably put more effort into packing that than his actual clothes. Bottle after bottle of vodka, tequila, and cheap beer stuck out from the sides once he'd set it down. And you hadn't seen him change out of the sweat stained shirt he had on just yet.

That effectively marked the end of that conversation, the rest getting distracted with getting a drink off the cooler. "You don't wanna get one?" You heard from behind you, their voice already starting to sound the slightest bit slurred. In less of a span than five minutes. "No thanks," you assured, sticking with just the s'more you had at the end of a stick. Last thing you needed to be was uncoordinated if you needed to run. Just in case.

They didn't seem to mind it too much either, shrugging it off and muttering, "More for us, then." Conversation flowed easily between the group, ghost stories being shared just for the sake of it with loud laughter bustling from drunken antics. "Apparently they're supposed to take virgins as a sacrifice or something," Logan blurted out, slapping a hand over his knee as if it were the funniest thing he could've said.

"No way, man. I heard that they're the ghosts of these two kids that drowned in the river down the path." Conversation and drinks kept flowing much after the sun went down, with only crickets chirping around. Begrudgingly, the group managed to make inside after a while and got out a couple sleeping bags to place on the floor. Last thing any of you all needed was to have to endure this trip out with fleas.

Loud scraping on the side of the wood woke you up from your slumber, wind whistling almost furiously. Almost as if a knife were being dragged across the surface. Your friends were already sitting up when you got up from your spot, their bodies seeming too tense for it to just be an innocent prank. "Maybe it's just the wind," you tried to rationalize this just to being paranoid, but even you couldn't lie about the two shadows that appeared on the side of the window.

"If the wind wanted to kill us," one of your friends muttered from underneath the comfort of her pink heart covered blanket.

"Since you went on that little trip earlier, tell us where to go," The same man that had treated you like you were stupid before now sounded like he was on the verge of peeing his pants, his voice raising up to almost a squeak. The group's movements were slow, the alcohol having taken a toll on them pretty quickly. "We're supposed to run this w—" and before you even had the chance to finish, the four of them took off running.

And every rule that had been memorized during horror movie nights was completely discarded in a moment of panic, the group splitting up almost immediately. You took off running where you could see the faint outline of a path, your footsteps pounding into the ground with every rushed step that you made. You were running off pure adrenaline, the burning sensation in your chest after running for what seemed to be an eternity almost didn't seem too bad. Just keep running.

Every breath that you took almost seemed to be too loud, your chest heaving with every sharp intake you took. Clasping a hand over your mouth, you took the opportunity to gauge your surroundings. You could barely see past a couple feet, most of the trees just blending together in the far distance. You figured that maybe you'd be in the clear for a couple more minutes before you had to find another spot. Get the ache in your legs to go down enough for you to keep running.

Or at least that's what you originally figured.

Until you heard the crunching of leaves echoing all too close, the whistling of a familiar tune you just couldn't put your finger on (not while you were too busy trying not to die, anyways). "Don't even bother running now, it's just gonna make our job harder," the voice came from somewhere way too close, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling up. He almost sounded like you were the one inconveniencing them by thinking about running.

Your heart pounded beneath your chest with every bated breath you took, your own traitorous lungs betraying you with every noise they had you make. Every step that you took almost seemed to be too slow, every ache in your muscles holding you back. "You can't get that far, y'know," a separate voice echoed through the depth of the woods, only confirming the rumors that it was two killers. "Just trip over thin air already," the other whined, the sound of the knife scraping on the ground following.

You willed yourself to keep running—even if you weren't too completely sure where you'd go if you did manage to escape. The nearest town that you'd seen on the way down here was close to two hours ago, you were bound to be dead meat by the time you got there. You shook off those thoughts, trying to keep yourself from making too much noise while you ran. And you'd almost succeeded until you bumped into something firm. You almost didn't bring yourself to look up, not wanting to face the possibility that it wasn't a tree.

"Please be a wall or something," you muttered to yourself, your eyes flicking open to see what exactly you'd bumped into.

You were met with a masked figure in front of you, a cheap hockey mask with dried blood clinging onto the sides. "Not a wall, sorry to disappoint. Just got yourself all sweaty after I told you not to run, sweets," he clicked his tongue, shaking his head in faux disappointment. Teasing you even further.

Another masked figure came into your line of vision, each one carrying a knife with blood dripping down to taint the forest leaves below. And every muscle in your body was begging you to move—to continue to keep moving, but you couldn't bring yourself to get unstuck from the position you were. The lankier one of the two approached your left, hooking your chin up with his knife. "Don't get mad at her too much. She was better fun than the guy who just fainted."

No ghosts or virgin sacrifices so far it seemed, at the very least.

"Much prettier too," you weren't even aware when tears started to roll down your cheeks, only becoming aware of them when the other guy approached your right. Using a gloved finger to swipe underneath your eyes, barely pushing the mask up to reveal his mouth. A silver tongue piercing illuminated by the pale moonlight flickered out when he went to lick it away, shamelessly tasting your salty tears. Seemingly reveling in how scared shitless you were.

"Those friends of yours gave away your location pretty quickly. Something something, kill you instead of kill them. You might have to consider who you get as friends, sweet cheeks," the knife was pressed deeper into the column of your throat as he spoke, the motion almost seeming way too gentle for a man threatening your life. That was until you felt a sting a couple seconds later, drops of blood dripping onto the collar of your shirt.

The man on your left pulled his mask up in a similar fashion as the other one, barely exposing his lips before he leaned in against your neck. You didn't even get a chance to react before his tongue darted out, licking a stripe up your throat and cleaning up the blood in return. "We can be your new friends, sweetheart. You're not half bad after all," he licked the remaining blood off his lips, toying with you all the much more than the other one.

"Not really looking for new friends," you uttered, the sting from the cut almost combining with some sort of sick pleasure? Maybe the adrenaline was starting to get to your head, because there was no way that you almost started to enjoy it. These men were still trying to kill you. The words reverberated through your head like a mantra, willing for them to stick long enough that you'd get away. Kick them, run away, do something. Anything.

And you could've sworn all the blood in your body went cold, your eyes widening to the size of saucers when you felt the cold edge of a knife digging into the side of your arm. "That's if she manages to escape," the other drawled, pressing the knife just hard enough for it to leave an indent. "I doubt it though, Satoru. She's run all out of adrenaline."

"Please," you weren't even sure what you were begging for at this point, if you were asking them to take it easy on you or if you were asking for them to let you go. Probably the latter if you were in a better condition. "Shh shh, me and Suguru are gonna take care of you. Just let us play for a while first," Satoru whispered, running a finger through the cut that he'd made. Wiping away the excess blood dripping down, sticking his finger in his mouth.

And it was almost sinful how pretty the man looked despite the circumstance, a light flush on his cheeks when he pulled the mask up just to expose his face. His shirt pulled up enough to show sweat covered abs, a white happy trail leading down to his pants. "Don't tell me you liked me better with the mask on," he almost seemed to pout as he spoke, cupping your cheeks between his hand. And from here, you could practically feel just how long they were.

Before you let your mind wander into more shameless places, you frantically shook your head. "No, no, you look fine, I swear," you let out a nervous laugh, trying to avoid having your voice shake too much. "You don't gotta lie to him, pretty girl," his partner, Suguru, brought your attention back over to him, taking off his mask as well. And the predicament you found yourself in suddenly seemed all that much unfair.

A little voice in the back of your head kept reminding you that the two of them were psychopaths who were just running after you with a knife a couple moments ago, but it was quickly pushed over by just how attractive the two of them were. The white haired man's partner was just as handsome as he was, long black hair cascading past his shoulders. The two of them contrasting each other almost to perfection.

You were broken out of your stupor when Satoru (if that was even his name) grabbed your chin, letting out a laugh as he analyzed your expression. "Nah, she's not lying. If I didn't know any better, I'd think she was turned on," he noted with a laugh, his fingers moving down to the front buttons of your shorts. "You don't mind if I test his theory, do you?" Geto didn't wait for a response before unbuttoning your shorts in a haste, dipping his fingers into your cunt.

And the traitorous squelch your cunt gave out when he dipped his fingers inside you spoke more than you could. Suguru brought his finger to his lips, wrapping them around them as he seemed to savor the taste of you. "Don't hog her, asshole," Satoru muttered next to you, walking over to where Suguru was standing. The white haired man tangled one hand around the other's hair, coaxing him to part his lips. The two of them exchanged a needy kiss in front of you without second thought.

Which would've been the perfect opportunity for you to run. If you weren't frozen to your spot as the two of them intertwined tongues, their kiss almost seeming more spit and teeth than an actual kiss. A string of saliva connected the two of them when they pulled away, a pink flush to each of their cheeks. A little more prominent on Satoru, though. "Taste so sweet," Satoru murmured, facing you with his hands on your hips. The knife seeking to have been discarded.

Suguru moved to stand behind you, leaving you sandwiched between the two men. "You want us to take care of you?" Suguru questioned, moving to the side of your neck. Licking up the column of your throat in a similar fashion that Satoru had done, nibbling down on your pulse point. Leaving you marked in more ways than just the cut from before. You nodded, your back almost arching into his touch. A light shudder ran down your spine when you felt Satoru's hands on your breasts, circling your nipples.

Except you weren't shivering out of fear this time around, but rather out of sheer arousal. Your perked up nipples and the wet patch on your panties only serving to prove that further. "Come on, I wanna hear you say it," Satoru flicked both your nipples between his pointer and thumb, his touch making you arch further into Suguru. "Please. Need you to take care of me," you breathed out, your body almost falling lax underneath their touch.

"Need, huh?" Satoru had a cocky grin on his face, pulling your shirt up and over your arms. "Yes, need," you reiterated, your hand immediately going to his fluffy white hair when he leaned in to press open mouthed kisses to your collarbones. You could feel Suguru's cock straining in his pants behind you, the tip of it rubbing against the back of your shorts with every movement of his hips. "Even said please and everything," Suguru sounded just as breathless as you, if not even more.

Satoru's tongue swirled across your left nipple, his fingers rolling the other one in sync. All the while he kept looking up at you, cerulean eyes almost seeming to glisten under the moon as he did. Your eyes closed in bliss, your hand pushing Satoru's head even further into your breasts. Needing everything that he was able to give. Euphoria quickly took place in exchange for the fear that coursed your body earlier.

Suguru's hand trailed down your stomach down to the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down just enough for your panties to be exposed. A light breeze hit your cunt when he swiftly pushed them aside with two fingers, dipping one inside of you. Your slick coating his fingertip, glistening under the light when he pulled it away from you. Your breathing grew heavier, your chest heaving for completely different reasons. All the aches in your body had almost seemed to go away.

Though you were pretty sure they'd come back by the two of them were finished with you, if the feeling of Suguru's cock behind you was anything to go by. Satoru pulled away, leaving your breasts with teeth indents and your nipples covered in his spit. "So pretty," Satoru noted before slipping your shorts down, letting them fall down to the dirty floor below. You made no move to move when they pooled around your ankles, Satoru already moving to take your panties off.

"Let me taste her first," Satoru spoke up before Suguru could, licking his lips as if he were about to taste a delicacy. Suguru didn't make any noise of protest, simply shifting to take Satoru's earlier position. The white haired man placed his hands on your thighs, forcing you into a half bent position before spreading your legs apart. "Oh fuck," a low curse escaped your throat, Satoru's tongue wasting no time in licking your folds.

You pushed your hips to meet his tongue, Satoru's tongue darting inside of you. His mouth making out with your dripping cunt like it was something that he was made to do. You weren't even sure which of the two you was being louder, moans escaping the two of you. Suguru placed his hand on your chin, pulling your attention back to him. His cock stood in front of you, your eyes almost widening at the size. It wasn't too big, but the girth.

"Not the scariest thing you've seen tonight," Suguru snorted from above, the tip of his cock rubbing against your lips. Precum coating your bitten lips like a lip gloss. You opened your mouth, taking the tip inside your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the sensitive skin, licking down to his frenulum. "Fuck, Satoru," you words came out muffled, his tongue flicking at your sensitive clit. His tongue swirling around the nerves with no particular pattern.

You let spit dribble down Suguru's cock to make this all the much easier to you, looking up to see him already staring at you. He placed his hands on your cheeks, catching you off guard when he thrusted in your mouth. "Don't bite it off," he warned, his thrusts starting off slow to get adjusted to it. To get you adjusted to simply being a hole for him to fuck. Your cheeks hollowed out in an attempt to fit more of him inside with ease, each thrust having his cock further down your throat.

A thick finger circled around the tight rim of your asshole, the gloves from earlier quickly discarded of. "Sucking me in so good," Satoru let out a groan behind you, slowly pushing a finger inside of your ass. Whether the tears prickling in your waterline were from how Suguru was using you as his fleshlight or from the sudden stretch, you weren't completely sure. "S-So tight, fuck," and the man behind you almost sounded entranced, starting to pump his finger into your asshole.

"That's it, there you go, good," murmured praises behind you completely contrasted the harsh thrusts that the man in front of you was giving, his cock nearly touching the back of your throat. His heavy balls slapping against your chin when he pushed it to the hilt. "Taking us so well, this what you wanted?" Suguru questioned, looking down at you. And you just nodded, not completely sure if he did want an answer. And that only made him laugh.

"So sweet, so good," And just from a couple minutes of having his nose deep into your cunt, Satoru already sounded drunk off your pussy. The rhythm of the fingers inside your ass fell out of sync, your hole being stretched out more than you planned for this trip to this cabin (which admittedly, had been not at all). Satoru switched the two, his tongue flicking inside your puckered hole while two fingers pushed inside of your cunt with ease.

Satoru's fingers curled to hit your g-spot every time he pushed them inside, his long fingers reaching spots only your toy back home had done. His tongue flicked around the rim of your ass before he spat a thick glob of spit inside of you, vibrations shooting up your spine with every moan that he let out. Which turned into a chain reaction of sorts—the sensation of those vibrations having you moaning against Suguru's cock.

Suguru's thrusts got faster, the tip of his cock pushing against the back of your throat. Almost hitting your uvula with ease. And in comparison to his sharp thrusts, he reached down with one hand to wipe your tears away. Sucking them away like he did earlier, the gesture almost too tender for the way he was making you take his cock. "Taking us both so well, practically made for it," he cooed, your tongue running down the underside of his cock.

With one final flick of his tongue, Satoru pulled away from your ass. You didn't even have to look behind you to know he was cleaning your slick off his fingers before he delved back in, his nose prodding against your cunt when his mouth latched onto your clit. Rolling his tongue along the hood, his fingers spreading your walls open with ease. Especially when he added one more, the slight sting in between your legs slowly started to become pleasurable.

You rocked yourself back to meet Satoru's tongue, your nails almost digging into Suguru's thighs to maintain your position. And if you didn't know any better, you'd almost say that Suguru was enjoying the small sting—his thrusts starting to get sloppier. "Don't stop, don't stop," muffled whines escaped from your lips, vibrations shooting up the other's cock in the process. Your hand went down to Suguru's balls, rubbing the sensitive skin with your fingertips.

And that was enough to send him over the edge—a loud groan escaping from his lips. "Gonna make me cum," he uttered as a warning, pulling his cock out of your mouth before he had a chance to. Changes were he didn't want to blow his load just yet. Suguru let you maintain yourself up by holding onto him, your hands starting to shake as you got closer to your orgasm. "There you go, take it princess."

"Mhm, yeah, almost there," you moaned out as a response, your eyes rolling back the more desperate that Satoru's flicks got. Like he needed you to cum for his sake more than yours. "Yeah? Satoru's gonna take care of you, just gotta let go," his fingers stroked your cheek with such a tenderness, almost like the fact he didn't want to kill you a mere moments earlier didn't exist. A fact that you yourself had forgotten, the only thing running through your head being how much you needed to cum.

Every flick of Satoru's tongue had you dripping onto his mouth, your walls clenching around nothing. Every sweet word that Suguru whispered to you making you get all the much closer. "Right there, right there, please," your voice came out hoarse, your hands balling into fists against Suguru's thighs. "Ah ah, fuc-" You were only able to get fragments out, unsure of what you were even trying to say. And even then, the two of them seemed to have an understanding.

All decorum that Satoru seemed to show earlier quickly flew out the window—too enamored with the taste of your cunt. He spat into it with a fervor, savoring the taste of you like one would their favorite candy. "Gonna cum," you managed to get out before your jaw fell slack. "There you go, that's it, take it," Even if the sweetness Suguru was giving you might've been fake, that combined with Satoru's fervent fingers and tongue had you reaching your orgasm with ease.

Soundless moans came out of you, your pussy doing most of the noise for you anyways. You came in a manner of a couple seconds, your release dripping onto Satoru's expectant tongue. And it was almost like he hadn't realized it just yet, continuing to push his tongue inside of you with a needy fervor. "Shit, too sensitive," you let out a whine and that pushed him out of his stupor, his hands letting go of your thighs. Albeit reluctantly.

You looked over at Satoru through a dazed expression, your slick glistening around his mouth like a trophy. He only licked his mouth clean, wiping the rest off with the back of his hand. The two of them switched positions, Satoru's cock standing erect in front of you. It was slightly longer than Suguru's, albeit not as thick, but just as pretty if you had to say. His angry mushroom tip leaked drops of precum, practically twitching in anticipation.

You swirled your tongue around the tip, looking up at Satoru as you did so. Watching him already start to unravel from just the simplest bits of stimulation. All the while, Suguru dragged the tip of his cock along your folds, coating it with a mixture of your slick and Satoru's saliva. A muffled moan escaped from your lips when Suguru stretched you open, none of the prep that Satoru had done earlier proving to be effective.

"Fuck, tight, so tight," Suguru let out labored breaths, pushing his cock deeper inside of you. Up until the point where his balls were hitting your ass. His hands gripped your hips, your own gripping onto Satoru's to maintain whatever semblance of balance you had left. The man above you was quickly turning into a mess, as much as he tried to hide it. "Take it, just like that, f-fuckkk," loud groans escaped from his throat, his head thrown back.

Your tongue ran across the veins running on the sides of his cock, your hand pumping his shaft at an unsteady rhythm. You took Satoru's cock in your mouth, bobbing your head to what you could reach. Your hand making up for what you couldn't, the two almost working in tandem. Spit dribbled from the corners of your mouth, some of it mixing with the drops of precum. With every push of Suguru's hips, you were only pushed deeper into Satoru's cock.

Satoru placed a hand on your cheek, keeping you in place as you slowly began to bob your head to take him even further. Not that you managed to take much of him in, the man too big for you to take all his cock in your mouth. Your hand wrapped around what you couldn't reach, jerking him at the same time the tip reached the back of your throat. "S-So good, taking me so well," and his voice came out in almost a desperate whine, none of the teasing from earlier showing.

If you had to guess, he was probably needier than you were in the moment. Your tongue ran alongside the underside of his cock, licking along his frenulum and swirling around his dripping tip. His hips moved to meet the movement of your hand, his thrusts slower than Suguru had done earlier. Satoru didn't complain when your nails dug further into his thigh, almost seeming to enjoy it. The two of them had a thing for pain, from what you could tell.

"Just a masochist, hm?" You quipped, taking advantage of the fact that he was much too stimulated to give you a teasing remark in response. A moan escaped from your lips when you felt a sharp sting to your ass, the flesh jiggling from the smack that Suguru delivered. "Be nice, you're not exactly in a position to be making little quips," he warned, though his voice didn't hold much bite to it. His thrusts got deeper, your walls stretching to fit his girth.

"Y-Yeah, be nice," Satoru tried to add onto Suguru's words, but all he managed to do was let out another whine. If the other didn't sound intimidating, Satoru just sounded downright pathetic. Your hand went down to his balls, holding his sac in your palm, grasping it gently. Satoru's mouth immediately opened, his eyes closing in pure bliss with needy whines slipping out like water.

Suguru was much quieter than Satoru, though a low moan escaped through his lips on occasion. When he figured no one was listening. His thrusts were almost punishing, the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot every time that he thrusted into you. "Oh fuck!" A loud needy moan escaped from your lips—the very same thing you were making fun of Satoru of, when you felt his fingers go down to your clit. Rubbing against the nerve with just enough force for it to be pleasurable, rather than just overstimulating.

Your walls clenched around Suguru's cock, practically milking him for everything that he had to give. "Ah! Ah! Don't stop, Suguru! S-So good," you whined out, vibrations shooting up Satoru's spine in the process. "D-Don't. Tell. Me How. To. Fuck. You," each word was punctuated with a thrust of his hips, "Fucking brat." And despite his words, you couldn't help the way your slick coated his shaft with every movement of your hips.

You felt it dripping down your thighs, the ground beneath you a mixture of fluids and blood. "Don't forget about me," Satoru let out a whine, your head bobbing to take his shaft deeper than you'd taken him before. "You make it hard to forget when you're so needy," your muttered words turned into a moan, at another smack to your other cheek in return. "S-Said be nice to him," Suguru tried to sound imposing, but the way his voice cracked gave him away almost immediately.

"You're just as much of a masochist as he is, letting two psycho killers fuck you like this," he added, the loud slapping of skin against skin only proving his point. You spat against Satoru's shaft, your chin and mouth covered in a mixture of both of their precum and your spit. Your hand continued to roll his balls the way one would marbles, your thumb running across the sensitive skin. "'M sensitive there, not too much," Satoru moaned out, but the way his hips jerked to meet the movement of your tongue betrayed him.

The two of you were more similar than you would've originally thought, really.

Satoru was the first one out of the three of you to cum, his chest heaving and his abs tensing up when he felt himself getting closer. "I'm close, so so close," and you guessed that his words were supposed to serve as a warning, but you made no move to take your mouth off him. "Fuckk, take it. Just like that," he cooed, his mouth open in an o-shape. Watery spurts of cum shot onto your mouth in a manner of seconds, the taste of him pretty neutral. Better than battery acid cum, you supposed.

Your walls clenched around Suguru's cock, leaving him with little space to move. Your grip was like a vice, milking him the closer you got to your own orgasm. Your nails dug into Satoru's thighs in front of you, crescent indents marking his pale thighs almost instantly. "So tight, you gonna cum?" Suguru maintained the same rhythm to his ability, his fingers rubbing at your clit in the same manner as before. "Y-Yeah, please lemme cum, please, please," your moans came out more and more incoherent.

"Not sayin' no, take it when you're ready," and with one final thrust of hips, your orgasm pooled out of you to form a creamy ring around the base of his shaft. You eased the grip that you had on Satoru's thighs, looking up to see him still coming down from his own orgasm. Suguru's thrusts only got sloppier the closer that he got to his own, his balls slapping against your ass in his fervor to cum. And if he had any intention to pull out, the way your cunt clenched around him would've made that all the more impossible.

"Shit, shit, gonna cum," Suguru, who seemed to have more composure than his partner, groaned out as he reached his own orgasm. Spurts of cum shot inside of your cunt, your walls clenching rhythmically against his shaft. Even if you couldn't see him from where you were standing—you didn't need to just to know that his load was much bigger than Satoru's. His orgasm lasted much longer, leaving the man behind you spent. A couple seconds passed by before he pulled his softening shaft out of your cunt.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," your moans echoed across the forest, your hands resting against the cabin walls next to you. The two of them didn't seem fazed by the fact they were licking Suguru's cum off your cunt, if anything, you'd say that Satoru seemed to enjoy it a bit too much. "So good," he moaned against your cunt, his tongue flicking against Suguru's when he pushed inside of you. You turned your head to look over at the two of them, the two of them exchanging the combined taste of you and Suguru in a needy kiss.

"Goddamn greedy," you heard Suguru mutter from his side when he'd pulled away, the silver piercing that you'd felt earlier flicking against your clit. Once the two of them had deemed that you were cleaned up enough, they stood up from where they crouched behind you. Satoru dangling your shorts in his hand, taking advantage of your slowed movements to dangle them even higher just when you were about to reach them.

"Come on, we'll give you a five minute head start. If you can stand properly, that is," Satoru spoke up once he'd pulled his pants up, zipping them back up. And as much as you wanted to take advantage of it, you could hardly move a limb without it shaking like a leaf. "Look at her. Think we'll have be nicer than that, maybe ten minutes," Suguru let out a laugh as he zipped himself up as well, wrapping an hand around your arm to help you stand up properly.

It was only then when the sound of a bell echoed throughout the space, bright lights shining above the three of you. Bringing you back to the fact that this was just another cliché horror movie. "Alright, cut. Let's take fifteen before we start on the next scene," you could barely make out the shape of the director as he spoke through the megaphone, the lights above blinding everything that wasn't in close proximity.

What you'd mistaken as the taste of iron had been the stench of corn syrup and ketchup filling your senses, Suguru and Satoru completely covered in fake blood. The two of them waited until no one was facing the stage, Satoru hooking his fingers around your belt loops from behind. "Those moans of yours didn't sound too realistic. Good thing we're very willing to help," Suguru whispered in your ear, your slick coated panties hanging in between his fingers.

"We'll even keep the masks on this time if you're into that."

All you could hope for was that the rest of your cast members would think you were screaming and not creaming. Again.

[gunnerfc]

Okay, nice! My prompt was the lia wälti one: "I could kiss you right now" + first kiss

Something along the lines of a team game night and r and lia being paired up. It gets competitive and r wins the final game for them, lia saying that in the spur of the moment (they are not together yet) and then later some fluff and the kiss between them

Take your time, whenever you feel like it, i'll be patiently waiting to see what you do with my muddled thoughts <3

L. Wälti - I could kiss you right now | WC: 1.1K

AN: the game I’m referencing is called “Incoherent,” where you have phrases spelled weirdly, and you have to try and figure out what the actual phrase is! (shoutout to Smosh for telling me about this game lmao) || hope you enjoy bff <3

Kim’s living room was loud as you and a few of your teammates yelled (playfully) at each other, everyone’s competitiveness getting the best of them during team game night. You and Lia were paired together, having been the last two to arrive, and were currently in the lead.

The two of you worked well together, having spent the last few years getting closer and having feelings develop. Feelings that you’ve yet to tell her about out of fear that she doesn’t feel the same and fear of losing the closeness you had with her. Instead, you opted not to tell her and keep the feelings to yourself (and Steph, who had to listen to you ramble about Lia on multiple occasions). 

You had all been playing the game Leah picked out for a few hours at this point, and time was drawing close for everyone to start heading home. “Okay, Lia, Y/n! You two are up, and then we can count our cards and see who got the most,” Leah nodded as she scooted the deck of cards closer to Lia. 

The midfielder nodded at you and then at Leah, signaling the blonde to flip over the mini hourglass. Lia quickly held up a card with nonsense written on it for you to sound out, which earned some laughter from your teammates at how ridiculous you sounded. 

“Just think about it, Y/n/n,” Lia encouraged, and you took a moment before saying the correct phrase. Lia mumbled a quiet ‘Yes!’ before picking a new card to repeat the process. 

You quickly flew through as many as you could before Kim yelled, ‘Time!’ and you held up your hand to highfive Lia. “How did you get literally any of those,” Steph laughed as you gathered all the cards you had guessed correctly. 

“Dunno, guess I’m just that good at this,” you shrugged at your fellow defender with a small laugh. Steph rolled her eyes at your comment before Leah interrupted whatever retort she had ready. 

“Seeing as though Lia and Y/n got almost every one right, I don’t think we really need to count, but Kim and I got nine total,” the blonde huffed as she sat the nine cards back on the table. 

You took a few minutes to count your cards as your other teammates called out their totals before you finished by saying, “Nineteen.” Your teammates around you grumbled and spoke over each other, jokingly accusing you and Lia of cheating.

“I could kiss you right now,” Lia said quietly with a small laugh when you called out your total, having beat everyone else by a significant margin. 

Your eyes widened slightly as you processed her words, and Lia’s expression matched yours once she realized what she had said. Neither of you made an effort to speak, your teammates’ jokes still going. 

“Okay! It’s getting late, and we have an early training tomorrow,” Kim finally broke everyone’s jokes off, using her “captain’s voice,” as Kyra had dubbed it. Her words earned a chorus of groans from everyone else except for you and Lia, who had yet to look away from each other. 

“Y/n, Lia, good game! Can’t wait to beat you next time!” Katie laughed, pulling you both from your thoughts. 

“You wish, McCabe,” you joked as you stood up from your place on the floor, reaching a hand out for Lia to take so you could help her up. 

The midfielder took your hand, letting you pull her to her feet, and reluctantly dropped your hand once she was up. You didn’t try to say anything else before you and your teammates made your way out the door, yelling goodnight to Kim and saying goodbye to each other. 

You hugged Steph quickly before the Aussie got in her car and took off. You slowed your walk to your car across the street, watching Lia hug Leah before the blonde headed to her car. You and Lia were the last two left outside, yet neither of you made any effort to get into your cars. 

Lia hesitantly made her way to where you stood by your car, her eyes never meeting yours. When she was finally in front of you, both of you stood silently, waiting for the other to speak first. 

“What I said earlier-” Lia started at the same you start with, “Did you mean it-.” Both of you stopped, processing what the other had started to say.

“Yes,” Lia muttered, her eyes meeting yours. You swallowed lightly as you took a step closer to her, giving her enough time and space to back away, which she didn’t. You closed the gap between you even more until you were as close as you could be to her.

You hesitantly brought a hand up to her jaw, rubbing your thumb along her cheek softly before mumbling, “Can I kiss you.” Lia nodded quickly, tilting her head slightly. You bit back a smile as you leaned down, your lips meeting hers in a soft yet passionate kiss.

You moved your other to cup the other side of her jaw, holding her close as your lips moved against one another. Lia moved her hands to grip the hoodie you were wearing, holding you just as close. You both pulled away after a few moments, panting as air filled your lungs. You rested your forehead against hers, a small smile gracing both of your faces.

“I’ve been thinking about that for a while,” You confessed, pulling back so you could see her face fully.

Lia smiled at your words before leaning up to give you a quick peck, “So have I,” she mumbled against your lips, a light blush coating her cheeks. Your smile grew hearing her words, and you let a deep breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. 

You sighed before taking a step back, letting your hands fall back to your sides, “We can talk about this tomorrow, after training or something, maybe,” you shrugged softly, hopefulness lacing your words.

“Are you asking me out on a date, Y/n/n,” Lia smiled, tilting her head slightly. Your eyes widened slightly, and you opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. “I would love that,” Lia continued, finding your reaction cute.

You chuckled softly at how nervous you feeling now that you knew Lia felt the same way. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you mumbled, giving her a quick kiss before she made her way back to her car. You waved as she drove off, and you took a deep breath, smiling as you got into your car.

You normally hated having early training, but now you were hoping it came quickly. The entire drive home was spent replaying the kiss over and over in your head, and you couldn't be happier to know Lia felt the same way you did and the fact that you two had a date after training.

[torturedtypewritersdept]

proclivity - part one - scott street

✯ pairing:

ex!bff!rafe cameron x diabetic!kook!fem!reader

✯ summary:

at one point in time rafe was your best friend. can summer romance erase all the damage he's done?

✯ warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, heartbreak, diabetes lingo, injury, ghosting, fluff and fear, domestic violence (not rafe), mean!ex!jj etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity and i have rewritten + reshared it here :) trying out a new format with this post, hope you like it!

Your feet hit the floor with a loud grunt as you pull yourself from your satin pink sheets, they feel heavenly and quite frankly, the discipline your parents are bestowing upon you as they do their best to make it a point that your pogue ex-boyfriend is an ex for a reason is mind-numbingly stupid. You’re aware of this fact — you are so hyper aware that it causes you physical pain. So much more than your broken wrist, which is also his fault as much as everything else. You groan loudly as you hear your mother call your name again. The “Don’t make me ask again, y/n” voice  she’s using is also mind-numbingly annoying, though you know that she is very serious and that she will probably send your father in to chop you into a million pieces and sell your corpse on the black market if you don’t listen to her. So, you scream back. 

“I’m up!” 

You screech. You are usually perfectly obedient and poised, but the one thing that JJ has taught you is absolute attitude from the pits of hell. Your parents had realized this new attribute early on into your relationship with him and from the way you picked up his habits so quickly, they knew he was bad news. It should’ve been your first sign that something – the relationship, him – it was all wrong. You should’ve known when your parents started talking in Rafe’s language – in pogue versus kook, because they weren’t those kinds of people, the kind to pass judgment on people that they didn’t know and you never had been either. You feel like you’re at a disadvantage because of this now, because really you should’ve listened to Rafe’s warnings in early childhood about pogues being bad news. You never expected them to be true, for your perfect pogue to make you question who you are, to wind you up in jail. Jail – a word so far from being associated with you that it makes you cringe just thinking about it. Just thinking about the way it's dirty, pogue-ridden walls were trying to infect you with its virus, to hold you captive for all the days of your life. When your father had picked you up, he was livid – fuming, ready to murder every person that had touched his precious baby daughter. You’d been without insulin for hours and were on the verge of being too sick to recover when he picked you up. That seemed to be the only real thing on your side as he stormed into the Kildare police station and carted you off to the hospital. Good thing he did, because your arm was broken as well as your diabetes royally fucking you like it always did. He demanded answers and you easily gave him the right one — that Taylor Swift’s Getaway Car hadn’t prepared you for this, for JJ’s abandonment either. You assumed he took pity on you then in the way that only a girl dad knows how to. That doesn’t really matter though, because you’re still getting punished. They are making you take a summer job at The Island Club in order to pay for your transgressions, the price of bail but more importantly worrying them and getting yourself hurt. You get it truly, but that doesn’t make it suck any less. You wish you could call Rafe in times like these, though you know those days have been over for a very long time. 

—

You’re behind the bar when they walk in, getting orientated by none other that a pogue named Summer from your class. She’s nice enough and very pretty, saving for college because without a job, there’s no way she will be able to go. You appreciate her kindness as she shows you how to make a Mai Tai for the fourth time. You notice the three stooges as they walk through the door from a fresh round of golf, still smelling of freshly cut grass and the stench of perspiration. You mentally berate yourself for your brain’s inability to use their real names after all this time. Rafe, Topper, and Kelce approach the bar dripping wet with sweat. You haven’t seen them exert this much physical activity since the beginning of last year’s football season so the sight is a little funny. It’s hot in the obx this year though, more so than years past. So, you’re guessing it hasn’t taken much to make them glisten. Your eyes are locked on your former friends, but Rafe particularly – since he’s really the only one stuck in the former category. The other two still love you very much, despite your very poor taste in men. He’s handsome – you note, more so than the last time you saw him. He’s grown about a foot, everything is bigger about him really and you can’t help but wonder if that part is bigger too – MOVING ON. He’s smiling, talking to Summer and for a moment you find yourself staring, wondering if he’s ever going to smile at you like that again one day. Stupid girl, you think. The answer is no and you know that. 

“Y/n, When did you start working here?” 

Topper asked, puzzledly. You can feel Rafe’s brow etch in confusion as he stares intently at your cheeks that are freckled brown from the summer sun. 

“I got in trouble, remember? This is my punishment.” 

You are doing your best not to have to explain your situation to the entirety of the club. So, you laugh in comradery with your friend, clenching your teeth and sporting a forced smile, though you feel ashamed about it and probably will punish yourself for it later. 

“Three Mai Tai’s, pretty please.” 

Rafe spoke, breaking your attention away from Topper, giving Summer his best puppy dog eyes. You smile softly at his tactics, noting that nothing has changed in that regard.  

“We can’t do that, can we?” 

You whisper in Summer’s ear. She looks at you and smiles. 

“Good girl! You’re picking up fast, just like I said you would.” 

You beam at her praise as she redirects her attention to the boys.

“Come on, boys. You know I can’t serve you alcohol, you’re underage.” 

She said, rolling her eyes. Topper laid his fake ID down on the flat mahogany surface of the bar, sliding it over. 

“This clearly states that I’m 23.” 

He retorted and you rolled your eyes in feigned annoyance. 

“Come on, y/n! Really? What is it? You only give alcohol to Maybank or something?” 

Rafe jokingly questioned with a sneer, his distaste for anything Pogue related always everpresent. Your face fell and your breath caught in your throat, the moment the last name of your ex-boyfriend left his lips. You think only of the Rafe that used to be your best friend and then to the moment that all changed during freshman year. How he left you in the dust of appearances and fancy parties, how he turned into a major dick who made it his newfound purpose in life to cut you down every chance he got. You remembered the embarrassingly drunk voicemail you left him last year, crying into the phone about how he was everything to you and he left you behind after the first time JJ had touched you in a violent way. You never told him that though. You had been civil and joked back and forth, but had no real conversations or interactions since then. That was mostly because you were embarrassed about it, you knew that he probably showed it to Kelce and Topper and laughed about it for ages, making fun of how pathetic you were. Your fears seem to be true now as he cuts you down with his sneer and hate-filled blue eyes. You still don’t know what you did, what you did to put the butterfly effect into motion; how you and Rafe got so far off the beaten path. The tears rimmed your eyes, being reminded of your now ex-boyfriend wasn’t how you planned on spending your afternoon. No one knew how you’d followed his every whim all summer, how it had landed you in jail, gotten you a broken wrist, almost killed you when you hadn’t paid attention to your sugar for hours. He’d left you there and no one knew and you wanted so badly to tell Rafe about all of it. But, you couldn't – not anymore. Because you were right where he left you, like an abandoned toy in the toy box he no longer wanted to play with. As if all of that wasn’t enough to embarrass you and make you want to die, JJ had cheated with one of your close friends, Kiara, too and all the Pogues knew about it – sending you into a spiral of grieving all your friends at once. You had virtually no one. Rafe didn’t know and how could he, you stopped getting to tell him the ins and outs of your life a long time ago. So, while the joke seemed harmless to him, it broke something inside of you. You looked up, meeting his eyes, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. But, he knew you, he knew that look, he knew those glossed over eyes – he knew he had fucked up. 

“Woah, what’s wrong? I’m just kidding around. Can’t you take a joke, Y/N?” 

The bitterness left his tongue as quick as his feigned concern, almost like he couldn’t turn either off.  

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. I’ve been wiping my own tears for a long time now.” 

You bit out, not meaning to spill your guts the way you did, but he deserved it. He couldn’t help but feel your words so deeply. He often felt guilty for the way he left you, with no reason why. There was a time when he would’ve talked you out of being with a loser like JJ Maybank, a time when he would dry your tears and hug you tightly, a time when he would’ve protected you. You slowly but surely made the boys their drinks, a tear slipping out of your eye. No one noticed but Topper and he gave you a sad, knowing look. You headed to the kitchen, hoping no one would be in the locker room that was right off to the side of it, so you could cry in peace. 

“What did I say?”

Rafe questioned the boys, confusedly. 

“You’re a fucking idiot. Have you not heard that Maybank cheated on her and all the Pogues knew about it? He got her in trouble, Rafe and she got hurt. She’s lost everybody important to her, and you just have to be an asshole to her, when we all know how you really feel about her. Grow up, man.” 

Kelce spoke up with distaste on his tongue. 

“Shit.”

He whispered out, deciding then, he’d make it his mission to get into your good graces again, if that was even possible. It’d been long enough without you in his life and he had only wanted a break to protect you from his own faults. 

After you had made it to the locker room, you leaned against the lockers, your head falling back in defeat. It’s been two weeks since JJ broke your heart and it felt like the last year with you had meant nothing to him. He didn’t even say he was sorry. You stayed like that for a moment, cringing thinking about the fact that you had to work with him tonight. Summer had warned you in advance as she orientated you and you gave her the smaller version of events. You wished so badly that you could rewind time and not let Rafe drift away from you, all you wanted in this moment was one of his hugs – feeling his strong, muscular arms wrap around you. It had been two years since you’d had a hug like that. You pushed the thoughts down once more, drying your eyes and making your way back out to the bar. The boys were still sitting there. Rafe took in your form, the way the blanched redness of your face stood out. He could tell you had been crying, really hard, and that made his chest tight. It had always made his fucking chest hurt. He wanted to kill JJ Maybank for what he had done to you. You made your way behind the bar and locked eyes with Topper. 

“Can I get you boys anything else?”

You asked – voice shaky. 

“We’re fine, Y/N.”

Topper spoke with a softness and an ease to his voice. Topper and Kelce had stayed friend’s with you even after Rafe decided not to and Topper was the first phone call you made after your dad had brought you home from the hospital; filling him in on all the gorey details. He came over with pizza and wine and made you laugh about how much of an idiot JJ was. That made you feel better for a while, but you cried yourself to sleep that night, mostly sad that you couldn’t call Rafe out of embarrassment or fear of leaving another voicemail he’d never return. You often wondered if you were ever important to him at all. 

“Hey, sweet cheeks!”

You were brought out of your thoughts by JJ’s boisterous yet sinister laugh as he called you by a nickname you no longer welcomed. Rafe watched as your body became completely stiff. It made his skin crawl that you were so uncomfortable and as he saw your eyes gloss over he knew this was about to be bad. 

“What, Y/N, you too good to talk to me now?”

JJ questioned, annoyed that you were ignoring him. You wanted to speak to him, but you couldn’t find the words to say and you definitely didn’t want to do it in front of Rafe. Before you could even muster up a response, Topper and Rafe were behind the bar, standing in front of JJ, blocking him from getting close to you. Summer was thankful because she had never liked JJ and couldn’t do much on her own to protect you. 

“Maybank, I suggest you back up. You have no right to talk to her after what you’ve done!” 

Rafe growled. 

“Oh and you do? You tore her heart out of her chest, hollywood.” 

He laughs in response. 

“What are you even talking about?” 

Rafe questioned confusedly. 

“Oh, you know, when you stopped talking to her out of the blue freshman year. What you thought I didn’t know about that? You don’t think everyone knows about that?” 

JJ’s laugh has become incredulous at this point. Rafe looked in your direction, with apologetic eyes. 

“What would you know about that? You don’t know anything that went on between us.” 

Rafe snarled. 

“I know she cried all the time. I know about that embarrassing voicemail she left you. I know she never got over it. I mean I can’t say I blame you for ghosting her like that, she’s boring and what would the king kook want with her-”

The sound of Rafe’s fist meeting JJ’s jaw was enough to send a chill down your spine. Topper quickly pulled you away from the scene, not wanting you to be caught in the crossfire of an angry Rafe, especially when it involved defending you – he knew he had no self control in that regard. 

“Y/N, look at me. Are you okay?” 

He questioned softly. 

“I-I, no, top. W-why d-did he do this t-to me?” 

You asked through stifled sobs and his soft eyes traced over your figure. Unbeknownst to you and Topper, Rafe had run out to find you after he mopped the floor with JJ, his knuckles bloody for you. But, as he made his way through the club, he heard stifled sobs on the other side of a wooden door and he stopped to listen.

“I don’t know, sweet girl. People cheat and I don’t think there’s ever a reason-”

Topper continued, but was quickly cut off by you as you clarified who exactly you were referring to. 

“No, why did Rafe do this to me? I loved him so much and I-I don’t know maybe JJ’s right. Maybe I just wasn’t good enough to be his friend anymore. Maybe he saw what a piece of shit I was.” 

You mumbled. 

“No, listen, it’s deeper than all that. When Rafe’s ready to tell you what happened, he will. But don’t beat yourself up, Y/N. There’s nothing wrong with you.” 

He replied, stroking your hair. 

Rafe couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he really had broken your heart and you really thought you were the one that wasn't good enough for him. 

as always, if you'd like to be added to the taglist, please let me know <3

taglist:

@maybankslover @inthelibrarybtw @luvrcndy @silkylovey

[skrrts]

Can I kiss you? (drabble)

✧ park seonghwa x gn!reader ✧ genre: non idol, slice of life, fluff, romance ✧ word count: 760

✧ prompt: "Can I kiss you?" "You know you don't have to ask me anymore, right?"

a/n: requested by anon, based on this prompt list. thanks a lot for sending it, hope you like it 🤎

Park Seonghwa wasn't shy or nervous, he just was deeply in love and worried that maybe, his love was too strong at times. Not in the form of wishing it wouldn't be as strong but more so, he worried that he wanted to show it could be overwhelming at times, especially as you agreed to take it slow around others, taking your time.

He was sure many new couples faced such emotions when everything was still new and you tried to find just that perfect balance.

You on the other hand, never seemed to struggle with it and every time you showed your affection, it was so straightforward and sweet, his heart was melting just a little. As he looked at you being so comfortable and happy, he was feeling this deep feeling of gratitude, for having found a person that just was true to their own personality while also being accepting of his.

And weren't you one of the most beautiful people he ever met? One year of friendship and dating for a few months, wishing to wait before telling it to everyone but now, it no longer was a secret. He could show it openly and there was this little nervous worry coming from.

A soft shiver was running through his body as the cold wind brought him back from his thoughts. A soft smile came to his lips as he looked at his phone, reading through all those messages you sent him about being on your way.

When you offered to go home together, Seonghwa was more than happy to go for just that. Work finished a little earlier today and he decided to enjoy a small walk around. Summer left so suddenly and now, autumn arrived in full force.

"Hwa!"

Your voice reached him immediately and he looked up, waving back to you, smiling when as you were checking the street before crossing it.

Seonghwa rushed toward you and without hesitation, you almost fell into his arms, making him smile as he curled them around you, tugging you closer.

"Mh, you are so warm," you mumbled, looking up at him, cheeks all red and warm. Seonghwa smiled, noting how cute it was. He really enjoyed those soft and silly little moments together.

"Tell that to my friends when they tease me why I am wearing a coat already," he chuckled. And there it was, he was about to lean down and kiss you because it was not only the romantic scene he loved in stories ever since he was young but a want.

It just felt natural to hold you, kiss you ... but this was the middle of the day, in a park with many passing by and as open as it could be, a little different to holding hands and giggling kisses in the corner of your favorite café. And very different to the kisses you exchanged inside of your homes.

It was as if you could read his mind because you leaned up, your hand resting against his cheek, whispering:

"Hwa, are you still worried you have to ask me if it is okay to kiss me now where others see it?"

The smile on his lips was just a little shy.

"Is it okay if I kiss you in front of all those people, let them see just how much I love you?"

Your warm skin against his cool cheek was comforting and without a hint of hesitation, you leaned up, lips close and noses bumping against each other.

"Silly, you can kiss me anywhere you want and as often as you wish. Outdoors, at home, alone, or with the entire world watching us," you whispered and sealed your lips words with a sweet kiss.

This was all the encouragement he needed, hugging tightly and kissing in the middle of the park, with the colored leaves of the trees falling while the autumn wind played with them but all of them just vanished in front of his eyes.

All Seonghwa was focused on at this moment was you, the sweet kiss and the warmth of your body, the way your hair tickled his face a little and you felt so content and relaxed.

"I promise, you can kiss me any time, Hwa," you whispered again and e rested his forehead against yours.

He sighed, closing his eyes, nodding before his thumb brushed over your cheek. Maybe there was no need to worry about too much affection and love, to show it anywhere.

As long as it was with the right person. With you.

[tangyangie]

𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗌—! 🖇

𖡼𖤣𖥧𓋼 with. keiji akaashi 𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

LESSON #0 — CONVINCING ꩜

part of him wants to refuse outright. what do you mean you want his help? you want to learn how to kiss other guys? it's bad enough that he likes you, and now you're going to rub it in by giving him a taste of what he can't have. but, when you look up at him with those eyes—those beautiful, pleading eyes—he can't find it in him to say no. this is a common occurrence. you've gotten him to do your laundry on numerous occasions. this is also how you got your dorm pet(s).

"i said, no."

"but, keiji, please? she's so cute, isn't she?"

"we already have one!"

"yeah, but he's lonely!"

"i'm not cleaning after them, though."

you're going to kill him. you're actually going to be his 'cause of death. sure, you might think it's normal; it's only kissing your best friend as practice for another guy. but, to him, it's way more than that. you're like a cigarette—he wants to try you, so bad, but he knows that once he does, he won't ever be able to go back.

"it's not my problem if you like someone. look up a tutorial on youtube if you're so curious," keiji hums, purposely avoiding eye contact—he's just so interested in this show.

"i have! all they say is 'once you get into it, you'll instantly know how to do it'. i mean, it's the dumbest thing i've ever heard. i didn't look up a step-by-step to skip from looking at them to after the kiss."

he simply shrugs. "they're right, you know. it just clicks when you get comfortable."

"well, i'm not going to be comfortable if i don't know what i'm doing, and i'm scared i'm gonna mess up and embarrass myself in front of him!"

"...ask someone else."

"keiji, no, please! you're my best friend, no one else will get it if i ask! they're just gonna think i'm weird!" you plead, kneeling down and hugging his leg as a last resort.

"what are you—"

"please, keiji?" you interrupt, not wanting your plans derailed.

"i..." he sighs, running his fingers through his hair before begrudgingly agreeing. "fine, okay."

with an excited squeal, you stand up and intertwine your fingers with his. "thank you! what's first?"

"wh—now?!"

LESSON #1 — EYES 🦢

he loves your eyes. he thinks that they're absolutely gorgeous. with or without makeup to enhance your eyelashes, each wisp of color within your iris is a pathway that he wishes he could explore, simply by staring into your eyes for hours. he's a complete moth to the flame, because he swears that if he looks too long, he'll fall in.

"hey, keiji—is there something on my face?"

"what makes you think that?"

"...well, you've been staring at me for a good minute. is it paint, or something?l

"...okay, first things first—do not open your eyes unless you're ready to pull away. no one wants to see that right now, for one, and it just makes a kiss seem... not real. like you're not into it," he explains, pausing his show and turning to sit sideways on the couch. he lifts his glasses off from his nose and sets them on the coffee table.

"is that why you take your glasses off?" you ask, tilting your head curiously. "is it to prevent you from looking, or something?"

"um, no. i just don't like the idea of them fogging up," he says, thinking about what else to elaborate on. "closing your eyes is just because it'd be really awkward if you both started at each other in the eyes."

"okay, i get it, i think. when do i start closing my eyes?"

"whenever you start feeling awkward. or, probably better for you—because you're so inexperienced—is to just mirror him."

"oh, yeah, i'm sooo inexperienced," you scoff, leaning back.

"you asked for my opinion."

"fair enough. what next?"

LESSON #2 — HANDS 𓇼

to him, hands are the most useful part of the body. it controls everything—volleyball, writing, hobbies... even eating, though you can technically do it otherwise. it's just messy that way. one thing he does take pride in, though, is how his look. it's mostly your fault—you compliment them all the time.

"keiji, your hands are so pretty. you've got such nice nails, too."

"um... thank you? i think?"

"what do you mean, you think? you should let me paint them."

"try not to do too much with your hands. it'll just be distracting you or him from the kiss."

he'd almost wanted to intentionally give you bad advice. maybe, that'd keep you to himself. but, unfortunately for him, he's smarter than that. he knows you'd be hurt, and he knows very well that it probably wouldn't work in the first place, and that whoever you'd wanted to kiss would just laugh adoringly at your inexperience. he knows he would.

"where do i put them?"

"honestly, it can be almost anywhere you want."

"in between your toes?"

"...i don't want to know what's going on in your head. try to keep them on the upper body, at least." keiji says, rubbing his forehead with two fingers.

"come a little closer," he motions.

you crawl across a few cushions before plopping down in front of him.

"now, try and find the most comfortable spot for your hands so that you're not deciding in the middle of a kiss."

panic visibly sets within you, and you hover your hands in a multitude of places, when keiji gently holds your wrists as a request for you to stop.

"hey, calm down—here, i'll guide you. shoulders first," he hums, bringing your hands to rest on his shoulders, allowing you to get a feel for it. "next..." cupping his face, resting on his chest, arms around his neck... before you reached having your fingers tangle in his hair.

"oh, this is nice," you say, immediately settling as you gently scratch his scalp with your nails.

"yeah? here?" he asks, trying not to focus on the pleasurable sensation that would lull him to sleep if it were under any other circumstances.

you nod, playing with his curls. "definitely."

he barely notices the soft smile that slips onto his features, simply watching the glint of fascination in your eyes. "now, i'm gonna put my hands here, okay?" he whispers, trailing his hands down to gently grab your waist. "is this okay?"

you nod, still mesmerized by his hair.

"moving on..."

LESSON #3 — LIPS ଳ

you talk way too much, in his opinion. not as much as bokuto, but a lot. to be fair, everyone talks a lot compared to his normal days. even though he may complain in his mind, he knows in his heart he doesn't care at all. he loves watching your lips move, memorizing how each individual letter looks on your lips. sometimes, he'll try to guess what you're listening to based on how well he can read your mouthing now.

"...are you listening to beabadoobee?"

"you listen to bea??"

"yoshimi, forest, magdalene?"

"wh—how'd you know? are you psychic?"

now comes the part he's almost dreading most—not that he could ever want to avoid your lips. he's just nervous. he takes a deep breath, starting his explanation.

"when you're kissing someone, don't tense up. you need to completely relax. no one wants to kiss a rock."

"weird metaphor, but i get it."

"you slightly part your lips. just a little bit."

"how much is a little bit?"

"guess."

you slightly drop your bottom lip, and it's almost perfect. keiji lifts his hand to your chin, just barely pushing your jaw up with his finger.

"do you want chapstick?" you ask.

"are you trying to tell me that my lips look dry?" he raises an eyebrow.

"no! your lips look nice. i'm just saying, i've heard it helps." you defend, getting the chapstick out and applying a quick layer.

"sure," he sighs, leaning a little closer and allowing you to drag the chapstick on his lips for what seems like forever (it was two seconds. he was just focused on you instead).

"ready to focus?" he asks, watching you apply yet another layer. it felt like you were teasing him.

"yep," you smile, re-parting your lips. "like this, right?"

he nods, beginning his next explanation. "don't do that when you kiss people. if you start talking in the middle of a kiss, make it relate to the experience, at least. if you start talking about the weather, you're getting kicked out."

you offer a sheepish grin. be continues.

"anyway, when most people kiss, they tend to lean their heads to the right, but it really depends on the person. i go right, which means you should also go right. with me, at least."

"how do you know that? just how many people have you kissed?" you tease.

he purses his lips. "two."

"was one boku—"

"doesn't matter."

you stifle your giggle, waiting for keiji's next words.

"kissing isn't as difficult as you think. it really does just come to you."

"oh, plea—"

"i'm not done. i'll do my best to help you, but when you kiss someone, you're not really paying attention to that. it just kind of happens."

you nod and stay quiet as he thinks for a moment. "i tend to put whoever's bottom lip i'm kissing in between mine."

"should i try and do the same thing?"

"no. n—not with me, at least."

"m'kay."

"and after a few kisses like that, you just keep going until it gets more intense."

"speaking of which..."

LESSON #4 — TONGUE 🌊

he doesn't have much to say about this. you use it lots? ice cream, popsicles, cleaning off butter knives—he could go on. you made him try the cherry-stem test once, though. he passed, obviously—that was definitely the main reason you asked for his help specifically.

"i don't get it. what's the point?"

"apparently, if you can tie a knot, you're a good kisser."

"hm. let's see if it checks out."

"what're you expecting? you look like the only thing you've kissed is your pillow."

"do i really have to explain this?" keiji sighs, burying his head in his hands for a moment.

"yes, come on! i need this one the most. what do i do with my tongue?"

"it's going to be so weird to talk about. and it's gonna sound so odd. i'm warning you."

"i understand the risks and i read all the terms and conditions. give me the goods. services? i dunno."

"definitely do not start off with it. if you shove your tongue into his mouth, he's gonna shove you away from him."

"understood."

"honestly, don't do anything about it. let him slip it in and take control of it. you lightly suck on it, i guess."

"ew, you're right. i don't wanna hear about this."

"i told you," he responds, leaning back and resting his head above the armrest, his hands acting as a pillow under him.

"do you really shove your tongue down their throat?"

"god, no."

LESSON #5 — PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER 𓆝

he knew it was coming. he knows you too well to think it'd be as easy as telling you what to do. unfortunately, he plays an incredibly well-developed game of denial. again—you've done this on multiple occasions. half of your essays are written by him. half of the recipes you've learned? him.

"thanks for teaching me how to make this! it's really good. i should get more recipes from you."

"i'm starting to doubt you actually listened."

"of course, i did!"

"then why did i end up making the whole thing?"

"i cut up the vegetables."

"after complaining that the onions were making you cry, so you couldn't cut the others."

"okay, then... i think that's it, right?" you hum, leaning forward and climbing onto his lap. "that's all the information itself?"

your action causes a sharp intake of breath from him, who does his best to hide it. he props himself up onto his elbows to get a better look at you. you look really, really pretty from this angle.

"i—what are you doing?" he stammers, his cheeks turning a pinkish color. in his mind, he blames it on the tv's screensaver. it's on green right now; so, what?

"is this not how people kiss?" you ask, tilting your head to the side.

"it is, but..." he averts his eyes.

"keiji," you whine, leaning down closer until you're laying on top of him. "i need the practice."

the way you say his name nearly makes him choke, but he covers it up. he's really going to try not to mess it up for you, even though it may benefit his (one-sided) rival.

"okay, fine," keiji sighs, sitting up again. he doesn't dare say anything more lest he seem too eager.

your eyes flit to his lips, barely breaking your shared gaze for less than a second. for this moment, you take in his current aesthetic. flushed, messy-haired, (how you wish he hadn't taken his glasses off so that they could be slightly askew), heavily breathing, shirt ridden up just enough for you to see his stomach... you could find so many little things like this to name.

and, finally, taking in what you've learned, you lean in just a little closer. tilting your head to the right, slightly parting your lips, and itching to tell him just how pretty he is. but, he said no unnecessary talking.

he mirrors your actions, feeling his heart beat so fast that he's genuinely scared he may have a heart attack.

when your lips touch, it's not like the movies. you don't picture a firework exploding in between you, and there's no dramatic music.

there is, however, the most polite man you've ever met on the other side. he's so gentle, kissing you slowly so that you don't get overwhelmed. you didn't even notice how his hands had gotten to cup your face, but everything about the interaction is soft.

it's almost like he thinks you're delicate.

you're both a mess of heavy breathing, your lips sloppily moving against his. and he was right—he does think that your inexperience is cute.

his lips move over yours, the soft texture you'd expect from no man but keiji as ever so gently nips your bottom lip.

your hands crawl up his nape to settle on the roots of his hair, tangling your fingers in the familiar curls as refuge from the unfamiliar feeling of the kiss. he lets a quiet sigh into your mouth, the vibration of the sound waves against your lips causing you to nearly melt.

noticing his hands move from your face to your neck, you take the moment to be just a little cheeky.

"i thought you said not to move your hands much, keiji," you teasingly whisper in between breaths.

he simply scoffs against your mouth. "actually, i said no talking," he murmurs, becoming less and less conscious of what he's doing.

the more your fingers massage his head, the more he wishes you were his. he hasn't kissed anyone like this before—it's simultaneously nothing special yet the most amazing thing he's ever experienced.

his hands slide down your body to rest at your waist, feeling your breath hitch the slightest bit. mumbling an apology he doesn't really mean, he leans forward a bit more to tilt your head back. only then, does it dawn on him.

LESSON #6 — ESCALATION 🦈ྀི

he didn't think it'd get this far. he really didn't. he should've known better than to assume he had the self control for this. looking back on it now, he really did care for you too much. the time he spent with you felt romantic—like an old married couple that always argues yet never harbors the negative emotions. but, alas, you weren't his to care for... or, so it seemed.

"you really should be more careful. you're going to get seriously injured if you keep this up."

"no, i won't, 'kaashi; you don't know anything."

"do you know how many band-aids i've gone through in the past ten minutes?"

"...shut it."

"we should stop," he whispers, barely audible. he doesn't pull away, though.

"why? you want to?" you frown against his lips, brushing the corner of his mouth to place another kiss there. maybe, he just needs some convincing... if this is about what you think it's about.

your hands trail from his neck to his abdomen, your fingers tugging on hem of his shirt. you lean forward and cradle his head until he hits the armrest, and you realize he's much more susceptible now. good morals—he feels guilty about kissing you.

fortunately for him, you don't actually like someone else. dragging the fabric of his shirt up his stomach, you deepen the kiss as a form of distraction. it was a feeble attempt; he noticed right away.

"wait, wait," he breathes, pulling back for a moment. he can't seem to find his words when you look at him like that, your gaze all sparkly and enticing. "i thought you had your eyes on someone. why are you—?!"

"it was an excuse. i just wanted to kiss you," diving back in without giving him a chance to respond to the shock you've just supplied him.

you open a singular eye, noticing how his are wide open. "what happened to closing your eyes?" the giggle that travels through you isn't enough to soothe him. he needs to hear it directly.

his hands lift to your face, gently pushing your head back with his fingers tangled down to your scalp as he shares your stare. "y—you mean it? you actually want to kiss me?"

"was the fact i've been trying to get you to make out with me for the past 20 minutes not proof enough?"

he shakes his head. "you said that you wanted lessons!"

"so that i could kiss you! you're too smart for this, keiji," you laugh, brushing his dark strands of hair out of his face.

he groans, rubbing his eyes. "god, you're..."

"a genius? yeah, i know." you teasingly raise your eyebrows, as you reach over for his glasses.

the confusion evident on his face, his eyes follow your hand. "i was gonna say crazy," he mumbles, watching you place the glasses on his nose.

"but you've gotta admit," you grin, leaning closer again, "i was able to get this far without you suspecting anything. i'm at least a little smart, right?" he flinches when you tilt his glasses to the side.

"what's that for?" he asks, avoiding the question.

you kiss his nose before moving to his jawline. "keep your glasses on next time we kiss. it's so hot when they're crooked.

he gulps. "next time?"

"mhm," you sigh, connecting your lips to his.

notes. this is probably university au 'cause i didn't have a specific time in mind but too old to be high school too young to have a working job... you get the point

also... can you tell i've never actually kissed anyone ha ha so silly (i'm going to cry)

edit: me forgetting to put tags

[curseofaphrodite]

mutiny.

pirate!sylus x spy!reader

summary: dealing with secrets was your thing but with him, you weren't sure how long the lies would hold up.

Rumors of a royal spy being infiltrated in the pirate ship had always been floating around, but now someone might have actual evidence? In many ways, this day was long overdue, at least for you.

Spy or not, the work you put into the ship was real enough. Starting off the lowest rank with no intention of doing anything other than collecting information for puny royal coins, you quickly came to realize that pirate life had its own certain appeal. The sailors were mad, but they had each other's backs when it mattered. The food and music were an unexpected bonus.

The only downside you could think of was the ship's Second-In-Command.

You had called out on Sylus's shitfuckery from day one and he had grown a secret grudge against you from then. Alright, it might not have been that big of a secret because everyone knew about it. You thanked your lucky stars that he was not the Captain, because he'd have made you walk the plank way before this.

What if he's the one who has the evidence against me? you thought bleakly. No Y/N, they don't know who the spy is yet. They just have the evidence one exists. If I could just find the proof and destroy it before they link it to me...

"Lost in your thoughts, sweetheart?" Lelya, the ship's self-proclaimed sorceress, asked quietly. "Would you like an apple?"

"No, I'm full," you responded, trying to stay cool. Whatever happens will happen and you'll have to meet it when it does. There were many sailor sayings about it but none sounded comforting.

"We're working it off in our next heist then," Sylus barged into the scene with a triumphant smile. He was wearing his usual black long coat, which was a striking contrast to his plain white hair. There were stories that his hair used be colourful, that a mermaid stole its life when he broke her heart — and knowing Sylus, it was probably true.

"Ay, we just had our heist. Let us rest a while." One of the older pirates said, not even opening his eyes.

"Oh, I wish I could say something about that. This heist is involuntary."

"Involuntary?" you groaned. "Please tell me this isn't your way of letting us know that —THE SHIP IS UNDER ATTACK!"

You yelled the last part because the ship was, indeed, under attack. A giant vessel with royal blue banners was sending their canons loose, and the pirates in your ship had started to run amok. You knew most of them were just going to alert the captain, but the scene unnerved you just the same.

"We're going to need weapons," Sylus said, smirking a bit.

You shot him a sharp glance. "No, we only need weapons if they get in. All we need to do is get ourselves far away."

"This is the work of the spy." The Captain walked in, a faraway look in is face. "Sylus, you said you've found who it is?"

Shit.

"I said I'm close," Sylus replied, and if you weren't busy gasping as several things fell into place, you would have understood that he took one more step to you.

The spy is close.

Sylus is the one with the proof?! In a way, this cut down your work in half. You just need to sneak into his room and find it. But if he knew, it's not like he wouldn't have handed over the proof already.

Don't be stupid, Captain would have drowned me if he knew. You thought in exhaustion.

"Work faster," he snapped at Sylus. The latter didn't look offended, which meant he was smug. Which meant he really was just scaring you.

I don't know how the royal ships found us but it wasn't because of me. I'd never sell these people out. You wanted to say, to plead — but your ego kept your mouth closed. He walked away, whistling some tune.

You turned to the direction of the royal ship and sighed. You could think of your doom later. Right now, you need to fight.

--------------------------

The next hour went in a quick blur. There were commands being thrown around and there were casualties, but luckily, no deaths. It seemed as if destroying the ship was what the royals wanted, but so far, they held up well on their own. Past the smoke and the screams, it got to a point where the other side was silent.

With your heart beating against your chest, you slowly got up from the ground, where everyone else was kneeling to protect themselves. You could see the royal ship close enough, but there was nary a sound.

"Everyone alive?" Sylus asked from behind, and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. You were almost sure you hadn't seen him through most of the fight, but that isn't to say he had hidden. There was a slit down his face, and he appeared beaten up.

"Wha—"

"One of the fuckers got in. I was dealing with him."

"Is he—?"

"A drowning corpse right this second? Yes." Sylus winced when you involuntarily put a hand over his shoulder. You were only trying to get a clearer view of his wounds, but you jumped just the same.

"Sylus, you can't—"

"DUCK!" Someone yelled, and you looked up to see darkness fill the sky. Or at least, a cannon heading straight towards where you and Sylus stood.

Adrenaline shot into your head and you pushed yourself against him, pulling both of you out of harm's way. While the cannon hit the place you stood moments ago, you realized you weren't completely out of danger's reach.

There was a ringing in your head and you were completely knocked out.

------------------------------------------

The cot you were resting on was deeply uncomfortable. You opened our eyes and tried to get up, but the pain pulled you right back into the sheets.

"Take it easy," Sylus's voice almost scared you as much as it bought you comfort. With a dizzy head, you sat up straight and saw him perched on the end of your bed, as if he might run away any second.

"How are you unharmed?"

"They never intend to harm me, Y/N." He looked at you earnestly. "You're smart enough to answer me this: why would this ship have a royal spy?"

Blood drained from your face. You glanced at his hair for a second — the silver that you knew wasn't because of depressed mermaids.

"Why?" he asked. "Why not other pirate ships? Why ours?"

"It's— well, it's almost as if what they're looking for is only on this ship." You answered, sighing. He frowned, so you quickly added, "Is anyone else hurt?"

"Oh no, that was the last cannon." Sylus smiled at you, something so rare that you were taken aback. "You saved my life."

The statement was simple. He didn't sound grateful, just a little surprised. You tilted your head as if to say, I'd do it again.

"Listen," you took a breath, not knowing how to convince him you weren't the bad person he probably thought you were. "I didn't know the attack was going to happen. I had no part in that."

He frowned again. "I know that."

"No seriously, all I do is give them your co-ordinates. They just want to protect you."

"Y/N?" He stood up, looking taller than usual. Or maybe you were just shrinking by his glare. "Tell me you're fucking joking right now."

"What?" your sound was so quiet you weren't sure if it actually came out.

"You're the spy? YOU?" He looked so... hurt. You stood up, not knowing what to say.

"You knew this already! Stop acting like you didn't!"

"I found a weapon with royal insignia from David's locker. I thought HE was the spy, not the girl who spends every waking moment arguing with me — not you!" He ran his fingers through his hair, turning away. His next words were almost timid. "How can it be you?'

It occurred to you that him asking about the spy was not because he suspected you but rather, he just wanted your information. That he actually cared about what you had to say. That thought only made you more depressed.

"Sylus I—"

But like a child after embarrassing himself, he walked away, leaving you alone. You didn't what he did after that. You didn't know if he told the Captain right away, or whether he waited till after dinner. You didn't know what he thought of you, but when two pirates came to you in the middle of the night with shackles, you were hardly surprised.

When they threw you in the cell of the ship, you didn't object much. You were too tired. You could sense Sylus standing outside the bars, blending in with the shadows. You could sense his broken trust, and you could feel him leaving.

Once the shock dissipated, you looked around the cell and saw it wasn't empty. There were piles of stolen goods and treasures, but the one that caught your eye was the royal crown. It was small — fit for a prince rather than a king. You knew that out of all of them, this was the only thing that actually belonged to Sylus.

Sylus hated you because you knew his biggest secret. And while you held his crown, the one he ditched and ran away from years ago, you wondered if you were just a reminder of the past that he was running away from.

The thought made you guilty, but for now, you needed an escape plan.

----------------

kofi | commissions

[chrzzboo]

Hi! Can you do one with pedri that he and reader have a baby but they are both 21 and really young and a lot of fluff.

pd: if you can name the baby Mia that will be awesome <333

Just the three of us

Summary: A few days in the life of Pedri, Y/N and baby Mia.

Note: I can’t believe my last fic got over 500 likes which is crazy!!! I appreciate every single one of you!🫶 As promised here is the Pedri fic, enjoy! 🤍

Reader x Pedri

Genre: fluff

I looked down at our baby girl, Mia, in my arms and couldn't help but smile at her sweetness. As I glanced up at my boyfriend, Pedri, sitting next to me, I saw him smiling at me.

"Can you believe we're parents at 21?" Pedri asked me, as he watched our little girl sleeping peacefully.

I chuckled softly, feeling a mix of joy and disbelief. "It's still surreal to me," I said, looking back down at Mia. "I mean, we're so young, but here we are, with a beautiful baby."

Pedri put his arm around me, pulling me closer. "We may be young, but we're doing a great job," he said, giving me a reassuring smile. "And she's perfect, just like you."

I blushed at his words, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. "You're such a sap," I teased, even though I secretly loved his romantic side.

Pedri laughed, ruffling my hair affectionately. "Guilty as charged," he said with a grin. "But can you blame me when I have the most amazing girlfriend and daughter in the world?

I rolled my eyes jokingly, but couldn't fight the smile that was spreading. "You're laying it on thick there, amor," I said, but secretly I was swooning on the inside.

Pedri chuckled and leaned in to plant a kiss on my forehead. "I just can't help it," he said, his eyes sparkling with affection. "You two are my whole world, you know that?"

I felt my heart melt a little more, and I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment wash over me. "I know," I said softly, looking down at our sleeping baby. "And you're our whole world, too."

Pedri wrapped his arm tighter around me, pulling me closer to his side. We sat there in silence for a few moments, just enjoying the simple joy of being together as a family.

yourusername posted on Instagram!

Liked by pedri, yourbffuser, gavi and others

yourusername Home day with my little family 👨‍👩‍👧

View all comments

pedri: Mis amores 😘

yourusername: Mi amor 🥰

yourbffuser: I miss my little Mia ☹️

yourusername: She misses her aunt too 🤍

gavi: Tell Mia her best uncle is coming over later

ferrantorres: You wish! She loves me more! 🤫

pedri: Stop fighting already 🥱

feeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr: Move over all of you, I'm her real uncle so clearly she loves me more 🙄

yourusername: Children 😑

rosylopez78: Mi princesa! Come over soon Y/N we miss you and Mia!

yourusername: Will do! We miss you too!

pedri: I've been replaced 🥲

pedri4everlover: How cute is little Mia 🥹

fcbpepi8: Oh to have a little family at 21 😩

culergvipd68: She grew up so much! She was just a newborn baby yesterday 🥺

The next day, Pedri and I were getting ready for a barbecue at Lewandowski's, known as Pedri's teammate's house. All his teammates and their wives/girlfriends and children are going to be there.

Right now, Pedri was playing with Mia, our one-year-old, while I was getting myself dressed. I could hear them laughing and giggling as I put on my makeup in the bathroom.

"Hey, Y/N, you almost ready, amor?" Pedri called out from the living room.

"Yeah, just a few more minutes!" I yelled back, finishing up my makeup. I heard Mia giggling and squealing in the background, and my heart warmed at the sound of their joyful playtime.

Finally done with my makeup, I walked out of the bathroom and into the living room, where I found Pedri sitting on the floor with Mia on his lap. They were both laughing, and Pedri was tickling her little tummy, making her giggle uncontrollably.

"Aww, you two are adorable," I said, watching their sweet interaction. Pedri looked up and smiled at me, his eyes filled with love and happiness.

"She's the most entertaining little kid ever," Pedri said, giving Mia a little kiss on her head. "Aren't you, princesa?" Mia let out a gleeful squeal in response, as if she understood what her dad was saying.

I laughed, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. "She definitely takes after you in the energy department," I teased, sitting down beside them. "You both have too much energy for your own good."

Pedri laughed and pretended to pout. "But you love us both anyway," he said, then blew a raspberry on Mia's stomach, making her giggle even more.

I chuckled and shook my head, amused by their antics. "Of course I do," I said, smiling at them. "Even if you two drive me crazy sometimes."

We eventually left the house, with Mia in her stroller and Pedri carrying her diaper bag. We put the stroller in the boot and Mia in her little car seat. We got into the car and started driving to the Lewandowski residence.

We eventually arrived at Lewandowski's house, where him and his wife were hosting the barbecue. We could see many of Pedri's teammates and their families already gathered in the backyard, mingling and laughing together.

Pedri and I walked through the entrance and were immediately greeted by several of his teammates and their wives and girlfriends. They all cooed over Mia, who looked adorable in her little sundress.

"She is getting so big!" Mikky, de Jong's wife commented, as she reached out to hold Mia in her arms.

"She's growing like a weed," I said, laughing as Mia babbled happily at Mikky holding her. Pedri stood beside me, watching affectionately as his teammates took turns holding our precious daughter.

The player's, girlfriends and wives were all chatting and having a good time, while the kids were playing around the backyard. Some of the guys, including Pedri, were gathered around the grill, helping Lewandowski cook the burgers and sausages.

Despite being just one year old, Mia was already making friends with the other kids. She was waddling around the backyard, interacting with them and even trying to play with their toys. They all seemed to adore her, and the older kids were being very gentle and kind to her.

"Look at her go!" Raphinha yelled, as he watched Mia toddle towards a group of kids playing with a ball. "She's got more energy than all of us combined."

The other players chuckled and nodded in agreement, watching as Mia continued to toddle around like a little energy ball. They all doted on her and were more than happy to babysit whenever Pedri and I needed a break.

As the food was served, everyone gathered around the tables set up in the backyard. I sat down, holding Mia on my lap as she tried to reach for the food on the table. Pedri sat down beside me, watching us both with affection in his eyes.

"Hey, let me help you with that," he said, taking a bite of food and then offering it to Mia. She eagerly opened her mouth, and he fed her the food, making sure she didn't make a mess.

The food was delicious, and the conversation flowed easily between everyone. Mia continued to receive a lot of attention, and several of the players took turns holding her, making funny faces to keep her entertained. Even though most of them had children, Mia was the youngest so obviously she was going to receive more attention.

When Mia started to get tired, she began to fuss a little in my lap. Pedri noticed this and quickly scooped her up into his arms, rocking her gently and speaking to her in a soft, soothing voice.

"She's getting sleepy," he said, looking down at Mia who was now yawning and rubbing her eyes. "I think it's time for her to sleep."

As the evening wore on, the sky began to darken and the temperature started to drop. Most of the players and their families started to pack up and say their goodbyes, and I knew it was time for us to go as well.

"We should probably get going," I said, looking at Pedri who was still holding Mia in his arms. She was now fast asleep, her head resting contentedly on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I think you're right," he said, carefully adjusting Mia in his arms so as not to wake her up. "It's getting late, and this little one needs her rest."

As we headed towards the car, Mia remained asleep against Pedri's chest, her breathing slow and steady. She looked so peaceful and cute in her sleep, and Pedri had a protective arm around her, making sure she was secure.

We reached the car, and Pedri carefully laid Mia down in her car seat, strapping her in securely. As he did so, he couldn't help but admire how adorable she looked, even in her sleep.

Once Mia was safely buckled in, we got into the car and started the drive home. It was a peaceful ride, with only the soft sound of Mia's breathing to break the silence. Pedri kept stealing glances at her through the rearview mirror, a small smile playing on his lips.

As we drove home, Pedri and I sat in comfortable silence, both of us lost in our thoughts. The sound of Mia's soft breathing provided a soothing background noise, and the city lights outside blurred together as we made our way through familiar streets.

Pedri reached over and took my hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. I looked over at him and smiled, feeling a sense of contentment wash over me. We didn't need to say anything; the simple gesture spoke volumes.

We didn't have to speak. The silence between us was comfortable, filled with a mutual understanding and the knowledge that we were both perfectly happy in this moment. As we pulled into our driveway and parked the car, Pedri looked over at me again and gave my hand one last gentle squeeze before letting go.

After we got inside, I went to change Mia, while Pedri went to the bedroom to change. Once Mia was settled in her crib, I joined Pedri in the bedroom, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me.

Pedri was already in bed, propped up on some pillows and scrolling through his phone. He looked up as I entered, a soft smile on his lips.

"Hey," he said, his voice laced with warmth. "How's our little princess doing?"

"She's sound asleep," I replied, sinking down onto the bed beside him. "She was out like a light the moment her head hit the pillow."

"Good," Pedri said, setting his phone aside and turning his attention to me. "You look tired, amor. Come here."

Pedri opened his arms to me, inviting me to rest against his chest. I snuggled into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear.

"Long day, huh?" he said, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me even closer. "But it was nice, wasn't it? Seeing everyone and watching Mia play with the other kids. It was a good day."

"It was," I said, nodding in agreement. "I loved watching her explore and make new friends. And it was great seeing all our friends too. They all love Mia so much."

"Of course they do," Pedri said, his hand coming up to stroke my hair in a soothing motion. "She's our little angel. How can anyone not love her?"

I smiled, feeling a wave of contentment wash over me. Being with Pedri like this, in the comfort of our own home and with our daughter safely asleep in the next room, was a feeling I could never get enough of.

"Are you excited for tomorrow's match?" I asked Pedri, lifting my head from his chest to look him in the eye. "It's the first time Mia will be there to support you in person."

Mia is just one year old but she still hasn't attended any of Pedri's matches. We worried too much for her since football matches aren't the calmest environment, so we decided it was the best to wait until she was at least a year old to bring her along.

Pedri smiled down at me, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Of course I'm excited," he said. "Having you and Mia there watching the match will make it extra special. I'll play my best, just for you two."

I smiled back at him, feeling a flutter of anticipation in my chest. "We'll be cheering for you loudly," I said, "and I know Mia will be clapping her hands and blabbering very loudly."

We both chuckled at the thought, imagining our little daughter cheering her dad on with all her heart. "She's going to be so proud of you," I said, snuggling back into his chest. "And so am I."

"Thanks, mi amor," Pedri replied, holding me close and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "You two are my biggest motivators. Knowing you're in the stands, supporting me, it means the world to me."

As the night wore on, fatigue finally caught up with us, and we drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, feeling content and happy. Pedri was holding me close, his breathing steady and even in my ear. His body was warm and comforting, and I felt a sense of safety and security in his embrace.

yourusername posted on Instagram!

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yourusername Nothing better than a lovely barbecue with lovely people 🍖🤍

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pedri: ❤️❤️❤️

yourbffuser: My little cutie, tell my niece I'm coming over later! 🥰

yourusername: Will do bestie 🫶

mikkykiemeney: Miles absolutely adored little Mia!

yourusername: She loved having him around! Play date next week?

mikkykiemeney: For sure!

pedri: No dates for my little girl until she's 40!

yourusername: 🙄

culerruler4ver: Wait I didn't know Pedri had a girlfriend let alone a whole child 😧

pepextorreslove: Have you been living under a rock? he has been dating his girlfriend since high school 🤣

culerruler4ver: Give me one second I need to pick my jaw up from the floor, I didn't know all that, I just became a supporter 😮‍💨

annalewandowska: It was lovely having you and your little family over! 🤍

yourusername: Thank you for having us! We had a great time especially Mia! 😘

The next morning, I woke up to the cheerful babbling of Mia and the smell of breakfast wafting in from the kitchen. I yawned and stretched, feeling refreshed after a good night's sleep. Pedri was no longer beside me in bed, but I could hear him humming a cheerful tune as he moved around in the kitchen.

I got out of bed, freshened myself up, and made my way to the kitchen, where I found Pedri standing at the stove, flipping pancakes. Mia was in her high chair, happily banging her spoon against the tray, and the table was already set for breakfast.

"Good morning querida," Pedri said, looking up from his pancake-making as I entered the kitchen. "Breakfast is almost ready. Pancakes and maple syrup, your favorite."

I smiled and took a seat at the table, feeling a warm sense of contentment settling over me. Seeing Pedri in his element, cooking for us and looking after Mia, always filled me with a deep sense of gratitude.

"This smells delicious," I said, as Pedri placed a plate of pancakes in front of me. "You're spoiling us, you know that?"

"Only the best for my girls," Pedri replied, ruffling Mia's hair affectionately as he put some pancakes on her plate. "Besides, I want to make sure you're well-fed before the match later."

"We need our energy to cheer you on," I teased, pouring some syrup over my pancakes.

Pedri laughed, sitting down with his own plate of pancakes. "I have no doubt she'll be the loudest one in the stands," he said. "I can already hear her little voice yelling at the top of her lungs."

After a bit, Pedri finished his breakfast and stood up from the table, his expression a mix of excitement and a touch of nerves. He looked at me and Mia, his eyes filled with love and affection.

"Well," he said, "I guess I should get going. The team will be getting ready for the match soon."

Mia, sensing the change in atmosphere, looked up at her dad with a curious expression. Her little head tilted to one side as she tried to understand what was happening.

Pedri smiled at her and ruffled her hair affectionately. "Daddy has to go play football now, but I'll see you later at the match, okay mi amor?" he explained gently, crouching down so that he was eye level with her.

Mia made a soft noise, her tiny hand reaching out to touch Pedri's face. She wasn't fully understanding what he was saying, but sensing his tone, she seemed to realize that he was saying goodbye.

Pedri chuckled softly and gently took her hand in his, giving it a soft squeeze. "I'll score a goal just for you, mi pequeña," he told her, using the term of endearment he reserved just for her.

Mia babbled something in response, still not quite able to form full words yet. But the expression on her face – wide-eyed and a little sad – made it clear that she wanted her dad to stay.

I looked at Pedri and gave him a reassuring smile. "You should get going," I said, standing up from the table. "We don't want you to be late, and we'll be there soon to cheer you on."

Pedri nodded, though there was still a hint of reluctance in his eyes. He leaned over and kissed me quickly on the cheek, the brush of his lips soft and warm against my skin.

Pedri gave a final wave, his gaze lingering on Mia and me for a moment longer. "I love you both," he said, his voice filled with both tenderness and determination. "I'll see you later."

With that, he headed out the door, disappearing into the morning sunlight and leaving us behind. The house felt a little lonelier without his presence, but there was a sense of anticipation in the air as well. We were one step closer to watching Pedri play, and we couldn't wait.

After a bit of time had passed, I started getting Mia and myself ready to leave the house. I dressed Mia in her cutest outfit, in a Barcelona jersey with her dad's number on it to be specific. She looked absolutely adorable, and I knew Pedri would love seeing her in it.

I grabbed our bags, making sure we had everything we needed – water, snacks, and extra clothes, just in case. We'd be at the stadium for a few hours, and I wanted to make sure we were prepared.

Finally, we were all set. I picked up Mia in my arms, her little form feeling warm and familiar against my chest. "Ready to go watch Daddy play, baby?" I asked her, and she babbled happily in response.

I stepped outside, locking the door behind us, and made our way towards the car. The day was sunny and perfect for a football match, and my heart felt light with anticipation. It was going to be a special day.

I strapped Mia into her car seat, making sure she was secure. Once she was settled, I got into the driver's seat and started the car. The sound of the engine revving to life filled the air, and I couldn't help but smile in excitement as I pulled out of the driveway.

The drive to the stadium was smooth, with Mia making soft sounds of contentment in her car seat. She seemed to sense our excitement and was responding to it in her own way. The city streets flew by outside the window, buildings and trees becoming a blur of colors and shapes.

As we arrived at the stadium and found parking, I saw Mikky. She was there with her own toddler, Miles, and a few other WAGs. I smiled and waved at them in greeting.

Mikky came over to us, her face lighting up when she saw Mia. "Hey there, cutie," she said, reaching out to tickle Mia's stomach. "Ready to watch our boys play?"

I nodded and chuckled, shifting Mia from one hip to the other. "Yeah, we're super excited. How's Miles doing?"

Mikky lifted her little one, Miles, up into her arms. "He's been a bundle of energy," she said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "I think he's just as excited as we are."

I laughed. "Well, our girl here has been looking forward to it all morning," I said, indicating Mia, who was now quietly gnawing on her own fist.

Mikky looked down at Mia and smiled. "And she looks absolutely adorable," she cooed. "Did you pick out that cute little outfit, or did Pedri have a hand in it?"

"Oh, that was all me," I said with a grin. "Pedri doesn't have the best fashion sense when it comes to babies or to himself."

Mikky chuckled, understanding exactly what I meant. "Yeah, I've seen what he wears when he's not on the field. It's not exactly top-tier fashion. Frenkie is like that too sometimes."

We all laughed, sharing a moment of humor and understanding. It was true; some of Pedri's off-the-field fashion choices could be a little... questionable but I was working on it.

As the time for the match to begin drew near, we decided it was time to find our seats. The stands were already filling up, and the atmosphere was buzzing with energy and anticipation.

As we sat down, in the distance, I spotted Pedri among the players, his familiar figure engaged in drills and warm-up exercises. Even, from a distance, I could see the intensity in his expression, the laser focus and determination in every move he made.

I was ecstatic when I realized that Pedri was the captain for today's match – it was the first time he would be captaining the team, and I couldn't be prouder. As the teams lined up on the field for pre-match rituals, I caught sight of Pedri, standing tall and proud, the captain's armband on his arm.

As the game began, I held Mia on my lap, her eyes wide and curious as she tried to make sense of the whirlwind of activity on the field. She babbled softly, her small hands balled into fists, as she watched the players darting back and forth across the field.

Every now and then, she would point at one player or another, uttering a few indistinguishable syllables. It was if she was trying to figure out who her dad was among the sea of uniforms.

I tried to explain what was happening, pointing out Pedri each time he got the ball. "Look, there's daddy," I would say, following his movements with my finger. "Watch him go."

Mia would turn her head at the sound of my voice, her eyes following my finger, and she would make a cooing noise, somewhat interested by the sight. She still didn't fully understand what was happening, but she seemed to enjoy seeing so many people running around and the excitement in the air.

As the first half of the game progressed, Mia started to grow restless. She squirmed on my lap, her wide eyes starting to look a little weary. I realized that the excitement and unfamiliar environment were starting to take their toll on her.

"Looks like someone is getting sleepy," I whispered to her, trying to soothe her with gentle bouncing motions. "Are you getting tired, baby?"

She responded with a soft whimper, her eyelids drooping slightly. It was clear that she was starting to feel the effects of the day.

I looked up at the game, a bit torn. Part of me didn't want to leave during the match, but I also knew Mia needed some rest.

I decided to try a different approach. I pulled out a small snack from Mia's bag and offered it to her, hoping the food would keep her awake and engaged. She accepted it, munching on it happily for a few moments. But it didn't take long before her eyes started to flutter closed.

Seeing as she was starting to doze off, I pulled out a small blanket and put it on her for some comfort, she was already wearing her noise-cancelling headphones. She needed some sleep, and the headphones would help block out the loud stadium noises that could otherwise wake her up.

After the match had ended, I waited patiently with Mia in my arms for things to settle down a bit. She had woken up by this time, and she was wide awake again, her eyes darting around at all the people still moving about.

Once the crowds had thinned out a little, I decided it was time to head down to the pitch. I knew Pedri would be there and not in the locker room already. He would usually do his usual cooldown routine and interactions with fans.

I made my way down the stairs, carefully holding Mia in my arms. She was curious, her head moving from left to right, as she tried to take everything in.

As we reached the pitch, I saw Pedri looking for us from a distance. The moment he did notice us, his face lit up into a smile, and he made his way over to us, weaving around the other players and staff.

"Hey there," he said, coming to stand in front of us. He looked tired but happy, his eyes sparkling with the adrenaline of the game. He reached out to gently touch Mia's cheek. "How's my girl?"

I smiled, shifting Mia in my arms so that she could cling to her dad securely. "She watched the whole match, you know, well almost the whole match." I told him. "And she cheered you on whenever she saw you on the field."

Pedri chuckled, looking at Mia, who was now making little happy noises and grabbing at his hands. "Is that right?" he said, his eyes soft as he gazed at our daughter. "My little cheerleader."

Soon enough, Ferran and Gavi spotted us and came bounding over, their faces lit up with energy and excitement. They saw Mia and immediately started fussing over her, each trying to hold her and make her laugh.

They cooed over her, talking to her in high-pitched voices and making silly faces. It was a amusing scene, watching two football players turn into absolute softies around our little girl.

I chuckled, watching as Mia's face lit up at the attention, her little hands reaching out to them, her laughter filling the air. But as I watched them, I noticed that it also gave me and Pedri a moment alone.

"They're quite taken with her," I noted, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth.

Pedri chuckled, nodding in agreement. "It's hard not to be," he said. "Especially when you hold all the power of turning them into complete mush with just one little smile."

I reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You were amazing out there today," I said, gazing up at him. "I'm so proud of you."

Pedri held my gaze, his expression softening at my words. "Thank you mi amor," he said, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "Sometimes I worry I'm not doing enough, especially with all the pressure and expectations."

I shook my head, gently cupping his face with my free hand. "Pedro," I said softly, my voice filled with conviction, "you're doing more than enough. You're incredible, both on and off the field. Don't ever doubt that."

Pedri's eyes fluttered at my touch, a small but genuine smile pulling at his lips. "Hearing that from you-" He stopped himself, swallowing hard, and then said, "You have no idea how much it means to me."

I could see the emotion in his eyes, the vulnerability he was letting me see briefly before he tried to push it back down. I knew he carried a lot of pressure, both from himself and from the world around him, and I could only imagine how hard it was for him to accept my praise without feeling like he had to brush it off or make jokes to lighten the moment.

I gave his hand another gentle squeeze, my thumb brushing over his knuckles. "You need to hear it more often," I said quietly, my tone firm yet tender. "You deserve all the praise and recognition, and you should never feel like you're not enough."

Pedri and I stood there, our hands still linked, his gaze still locked on mine. For a brief moment, everything else seemed to fade away, and it was just the two of us, standing in our own small world. The sounds of the stadium and the chatter of the players around us became a distant hum as we just looked at each other, the love and understanding between us clear.

As we watched the chaos in front of us, with Mia's happy giggles filling the air, I found myself leaning into Pedri's side, my body seeking his warmth and comfort.

Pedri responded immediately, his free arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me closer, his hold gentle but possessive. He buried his face into my hair, inhaling deeply, as if trying to capture my scent.

We stood like that for a moment, tangled together in a comfortable embrace. I could feel the steady beat of his heart through his chest, the familiar rhythm calming and reassuring. His fingers traced patterns on my skin through my shirt, a light, almost absentminded touch, but it sent shivers down my spine nonetheless.

As we stood together, still wrapped in each others' arms, our attention was still partially directed towards Mia, Gavi and Ferran playing with her. But between the laughter and the light banter, we managed to have a small, intimate conversation of our own.

Pedri looked at me, a soft smile on his lips. "You know," he said, "this feels right."

I glanced at him, noting the way he was watching Mia, the way his eyes held a tenderness only a father's could. I knew exactly what he was thinking. "It does," I agreed. "We're a family now. Just us three."

He pulled me even closer, his embrace tightening. "A family," he repeated, a hint of awe in his voice. "God, I never thought my life would be like this, but I love it. I love you both so much."

I leaned my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart under my ear. "We love you too," I said quietly, my hand resting on his where it was on my hip. "More than you know."

As soon as I said it, Mia's giggle filled the air again, a little louder and more insistent than before. I looked over at her and saw that she was trying to grab at Gavi's face, her tiny hands reaching out determinedly.

We chuckled softly, watching her determined attempt to get Gavi's attention. It was adorable, her little face screwed up in concentration as she tried to reach for him.

Despite our young age, we both knew that we had done an incredible job raising Mia. It wasn't easy being parents at 21, but we had managed to create a wonderful life for our little girl. We had learned and grown together, facing the challenges of parenthood head-on, and we had come out stronger and more in love because of it.

As we watched Mia continue to giggle and grab at Gavi's face, still trying to get his attention, Pedri pulled me closer to him, his arms around my waist. We both chuckled softly, enjoying the sight of our little girl's antics.

Just then, Mia seemed to notice us looking at her, and she turned her head, her big eyes looking up at us. She let out a little squeal, reaching out her arms towards us, clearly wanting us to pick her up.

We both couldn't help but smile, the sight of Mia reaching for us with her adorable little hands too endearing to resist. Pedri leaned down, scooping her up in his arms, while I moved to stand next to them, my hand gently patting her head.

Mia immediately snuggled into her dad's embrace, burying her face in his chest. Pedri held her snugly against him, his eyes warm as he looked down at her.

As Mia snuggled into Pedri's chest and I leaned into him, he reached over and planted a soft kiss on my cheek, then another on Mia's. He then looked at the two of us, a warm, affectionate smile on his face.

The stadium around us was quieting down, people slowly making their way out and the cleanup crew starting to do their jobs. But our little bubble of happiness remained, the love and contentment between us glowing.

As we stood there in our little happy bubble, Pedri had a mischievous, almost impish smile on his face. He shifted Mia in his arms, making her giggle a bit, and then glanced at me.

"You know," he said, his tone faux-casual, "I had a thought. When are we trying for another one?"

I chuckled, rolling my eyes at his teasing tone. "Slow down there, Papa," I said, reaching out to poke him in the side. "We've barely gotten our hands full with one. Let's not jump the gun here."

He just grinned wider, clearly enjoying riling me up a bit. "Oh, come on querida," he said, bouncing Mia slightly in his arms. "One just isn't enough. We need at least two, don't we, baby girl?"

Mia just babbled happily, clearly not understanding the conversation but picking up on the playful tones. I couldn't help but laugh, shaking my head at Pedri's relentless teasing. "You're impossible," I said, feigning annoyance but unable to hold back a smile.

As I laughed at his playful banter, Pedri chuckled, giving me a cheeky grin. "Hey, you love me," he said, his tone feigning hurt. "I'm your favorite, admit it."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't hide the affection in my expression. "Oh, absolutely," I said jokingly. "You and this little one, the two loves of my life." I reached out to pat Mia's head again.

Pedri beamed at my words, clearly relishing the moment of affection. Mia babbled again, as if she was agreeing with him. "See?" he said, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Even Mia agrees, I'm the favorite."

"Yeah, yeah," I said, rolling my eyes once more. "You're the favorite. But don't forget, you're also the one who has to change her diaper later."

He let out an exaggerated groan, pretending to shudder at the thought. "Oh, gods, not the diapers," he said with a melodramatic gasp. "But hey, as long as I'm the favorite, I guess I can handle it."

I just chuckled, shaking my head at his antics. "You're ridiculous," I said, though the affectionate tone in my voice betrayed my fond exasperation. "But I guess I'm stuck with you either way, aren't I?"

Pedri just grinned shamelessly, clearly knowing he had me wrapped around his finger. "You're stuck with me," he agreed, his voice turning earnest for a moment. "And I wouldn't have it any other way. You and Mia, you're my world."

We continued to stand there, our little bubble of happiness still surrounding us. The chaos of the stadium and the pressures of the outside world seemed distant and unimportant in that moment. It was just the three of us, together and complete.

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pedri Great match as first time captain with amazing support from my girls 💪

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yourusername: We're so proud of you amor! 🥰

pedri: Te amo mucho! 😍

ferrantorres: Great work hermano! 👏

pedri: Gracias hermano! 👊

ronaldaraujo_4: Gran trabajo pepi! 💪

pedri: Gracias amigo! 🙌

srpepe8: Pedri as captain is everything!

mnculerfbgv6: Did you guys see that cute moment he had with his little family? 🥺

pedrignzlover8: Omg yes, it was the cutest thing ever! You can definitely see how much he adores both of them!

delulu4pedri8: Why did you tell me this? Now i got curious and looked it up. 😔

youramorfcb30: @delulu4pedri8 Wait what's wrong with commenting that?

delulu4pedri8: @youramorfcb30 Now i want to trow myself in front of a train, are you kidding me? Did you see how cute that was. It reminded me of how single I am.

youramorfcb30: Valid

slaypepiallday8: Oh to have my life together as Y/N

fcbwagcloset: Nah for real, just 21 and a full time mother and owning her own boutique. Wish that was me 🥲

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yourusername Mia's first time supporting her daddy at the stadium. ⚽️🤍

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yourbffuser: She's growing up way too fast 🥹

yourusername: I know right 😢

pedri: The cutest supporter!

yourusername: What about me 🤨

pedri: You too amor, don't be jealous 😘

rosylopez78: Mi pequeña ❤️ by author

ffpedri8_: Mia is slowly becoming more and more like Pedri

waglover4you_culer: Their interaction on the field was he cutest thing ever 🥲

closetofculers88: Now i want a daughter too 🥺

hatetohate_gorgeous: What does she even do? While Pedri works his butt off, she just uses all his money 🙄

pepigvfr8306: Girl stfu she's way more successful than you 😒

lalabarca4: She has been with him before he even started playing as a professional so mind your business

numberone4pedri: She owns her own boutique and has a successful social media platform, meaning she makes her own money. You mad for what? 🤔

ftbll_love_8: Y/N, where did you get that blouse from that you were wearing at today's match?

yourusername: It's from my new collection launching this Saturday so keep an eye out! 👀 🤍

sarah_yxxh: Omg how exciting can't wait!

The end

[neetily]

Kinktober 2024 — Angel Sam

— ✧ pairing: Sam / F!Reader — ✧ genre: smut 18+ — ✧ word count: 9,145 — ✧ warnings: religious contexts, Christianity references, blasphemy, angst, major character death, daddy issues, praise kink, worship, cunnilingus, love bite/hickey, creampie — ✧ synopsis: just one more night with you is all he needs, really. he thinks he could die happy if you smile one more time, y'know? he's still so sorry, by the way.

— ✧ A/N: i have been wanting to write something like this for a very long time, so im happy to finally have finished it! it's not as angsty as i'd originally planned it to be because im a hopeless romantic, but it is pretty bittersweet! please enjoy my ramblings!!

oh, and happy kinktober !!!!!! — ✧ kinktober masterlist

He comes to you in the middle of the night, as all misdeeds tend to.

It's quiet, of course. Naught but the light passing of wind against your window, a few stray moo's hidden from the barn. And for a few breathless moments, he opts simply to stare upon you. Watching you with tenderness in his heart, the kind borne out of the word almost. In that, the tenderness cannot even hope to band-aid his heart back together. Almost, but not quite. Though, looking at you is a treat in its own right, surely. God given, he’d imagine, for father was ever kind in his hatred. Something that, to this day, he’s thankful to remain deaf to for the most part.

And yet still, the burning bile that lines his stomach turns into lava as he listens out for that low thrum of disapproval, the very same one that he’s not entirely certain if it originates from within himself or not—the faux voice of father hidden away in his melting mind, or his own inner monologue? They sound the same at this point—so he can’t help but to look upon you with salvation. Home. A small smile tugs at his lips at the sight of you so peaceful; his appreciation is barely there from how feather light his love for you is, but it’s there. It always has been. And, it’ll always be there, too. More than anything, you help relax his mind— purely by existing. And for that, he's thankful.

Blessed, he feels, to view you in your most vulnerable state. It’s funny, he suddenly thinks, how you feel safer with the sheets covering your fleshy frame as opposed to laying bare and naked— it’d do nothing to save you from his pointed claws, or his God, for that matter. And it’s funny, he reiterates, that the moment he hovers a hand over your sleeping body, you take the opportunity to toss and turn some sheets from your legs anyway, catching his attention immediately as he pores over every detail of you.

For he must.

His very own private God; far kinder and softer than the one deemed naturally as father. Sometimes, he thinks he can hear God in the morning showers you take. Trickling down your body as water droplets, drip, drop, a ritual of love in its own right. Thank you, he slowly mouths down at you. For showing me so many mornings. They never had to be particularly good mornings, because every morning with you was good. And now, more than ever, he wishes to hear the familiar stream of water wash over you, just so that he can put his hands to use again in prayer.

There are, of course, other uses for his hands besides washing your troubles away. So he looks at them, regrettably tearing his vision away from you and into his tired palms instead for a moment or two. It's curious, how they look nothing like how they used to; mud stained and hard worn by now thanks to the Earth’s gifts— and your farming orders. But he smiles once more, because they are at least his. And with his hands, he decides to smooth them over your exposed leg. Gently, with practiced restraint, he ghosts over your trembling skin. A routine worship, his gaze softening at the way you shift and stir in your sleep. How pretty you are right now, forever and always. He takes in the sight of your eyelashes, fluttering with good dreams, he hopes. And of your hair, how it lays perfectly against your pillows, and how he wishes to reach out to stroke your head, but he needn’t disturb your rest further, he thinks. So he gazes some more at how cute you look when grasping the sheets in your sleep, a picture perfect little doll for him to adore. Dropping his vision down to where his worn out hand steals heat from your thigh, and how soft you are under his touch.

Truth be told, he could map out every intricate detail of your being all night long, and on some nights, he does just that. But he can already feel the world dimming in response to his gawking, and he knows that he hasn’t much time left at all. Least of all to be staring, instead of doing.

He wonders how much it’d hurt to see the look on your face later tonight. All twisted and unpleasant, an assumed mimicked wince flashing across his face before he fixes it right up for his sleeping audience. Will you be able to notice the crumble of his mind? Threads picked one by one to undo his wings, pinching at your knee just a little to try and remain soft, stern in his affection for you. Would you, if given the chance, watch in horror as lions teeth are shoved down his throat one by one, just to tear up his insides into something new? Something less tangible— for his own benefit, supposedly. Would you stay by his side to witness the ecstasy overtake his entire being, knowing that despite it all, he’s happy to just be by your side. Even for a single day… He thinks that would have been worth it all the same, too.

But, alas, he plans on depriving you the right to such sights. He couldn’t bear the thought of casing you any harm, least of all from his own faults.

Instead, gentle hands press palms of golden sunlight against the slight sliver of inner thigh your slumbering body offers him. And it’s like a meal to him, bleeding gold against that soft, dangerously so, skin. Enough that he’s convinced he could feast his eyes on you for eternity and still not go hungry. Full of love, desperate to express, communicate, and exclaim it until his lungs give out.

But etched into him is his very own undoing. God’s fingerprints still yet wrap around his bones, coiling up and around his throat to leave the most human lump lying in His wake. He remembers pointing at himself in the mirror one day— before an outing you had suggested. To the local saloon, dressing him up in a manner he’s yet to grow accustomed to; but he can still feel the warmness of his cheeks even now as he idly strokes up and down your leg, how he felt this sense of pride swell in his beating chest upon catching your lovesick smile staring back at him in the mirror and… Oh, so that was the beginning of it all…

Regardless, he remembers pointing at himself. Right in the middle of his new throat, swallowing thickly as a means to steel his frayed nerves, and catching sight of… Well, you had called it an ‘Adam’s Apple’, right? And he’s not so stupid, he knew exactly what those words meant in the moment. But he refrained, bit his tongue in a rare moment of strength around you, and begged the further question of: why?

He liked to hear you talk more than anything this God given world ever dared to offer him. More than the sky, and the birdsong among the clouds, and the smell of grass after it had just been cut, and the softness of your bed sheets right after washing, and the smell of freshly baked bread, and the taste of that terrible Joja Cola, and his newfound friends laughter, and the hot sand between his toes, and the waves that kissed his skin, and the sound of rain against glass, and the sticky floor of the saloon, and the purity seen within the children's smiles, and the way you scrunch your nose up in confusion at him so often, and the way the wind brushes past him on his skateboard, and the countless jokes shared amongst strangers, friends, and lovers— your voice is better than it all and more.

Even when you’re yapping about his not-Adam’s-Apple.

For he’s anything but, to be honest with you. A mere spark in the greater cosmos, but one flicker of light on the verge of turning off forever. And all it takes is that flick, much like how you’d done so earlier tonight before heading to bed; did you ever figure out how he never went with you? It pained him every time to lie by omission, crawling into bed just before your usual wake up time to keep up the tired facade. The occasions that you had caught him up and about were so easily explained behind restlessness. Not entirely a lie, this time. But he’s just like that light switch, and he can feel the ever present threat of a finger looming behind his weary wings.

A stray feather falls by your side in the midst of his musings. Neat and tidy, spinning in circles before softly caressing your sheets. The first of many, he assumes, and he can’t help but to widen his smile at the sight. Good, he thinks to himself. I tire of this hiding. Of this waiting. Of this wretched thing you call existence, father. Please. Please. Take it all away, for I fear that even a slice of this paradise will prove too much to bear.

Another pinch, this time against the softest section of your thigh, and he’s not surprised to see you wake up in response. Gently, lazily, because you have all the time in the world. He’s made sure of that.

“Sorry…” he whispers down at you, as light as the second feather that falls with a pulse. His beating heart laid bare and white before you, so stark in its contrast against the dark, moonlit room that he’s afraid he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been; which would never be the case. Not concerning you. He was made to love you, he thinks.

He knows that to be the case.

He wishes to say so much more than mere sorries, but there is no human way to explain: I love you so much that I want to rip your throat out with my own teeth. I want to clean you dry of blood and swallow you whole, so that we may forever be one. Or, at least, he hasn’t thought of a way yet. And he’s running out of time, so he instead settles on something a bit more understandable to your human ears, like… “Didn’t mean t’wake ya. Jus’ couldn’t sleep again.”

He sees God, again, in your yawn. Strained and teary eyed, and the resulting groan you exhale fills him with such joy that it’s almost unbearable to look upon you with tender eyes. He wants to listen to it forever, on repeat, burning it into his dwindling memory in some vain hope of holding on.

Another feather falls from his wings when you smile back at him, and his hand stills on your thigh in response. Mother Earth whispers promises of give and take, of an intertwining, eventually. These things take time, she reassures in your closed fist, rubbing sleep from your eyes with a slow blink. And he’d much rather listen to the worms and the soil beneath his very human feet as opposed to the unfair God he was unlucky enough to originate from. But then he realises that you, too, originated from Him. And he figures, well… He can forgive him for that, at least.

Your voice is hoarse and riddled with heaviness when you speak, and he can’t help but to sympathise with you, feeling the very same ache in his brittle breaking bones.

“It’s okay, Sammy,” you smile, genuine and fucking pretty, so much so that it aches his bleeding heart. “Restless? Wanna cuddle instead?”

Like moth to the sun that is you, he could never, and would never, deny your invitations. To do so would be akin to blasphemy, he fears. And so with an intentional nod, slow and thick, oozing with the amount of utter adoration he harbours for your every little move, he lifts his hand from your thigh and huddles under the sheets with you. Soft and silky, he thinks to himself. But he’s not quite sure if he means your body, or the sheets. Just that he’s comfortable, happy to accept the terms of his existence so long as he can spend whatever he has left of eternity in your bed, by your side.

Besides, it’s easier this way. Where you’re left unaware, right?

He falls so easily into his usual spot too, his shape carved out of the mattress under his body through sheer use alone; but he likes to think that it was perhaps made for him instead. It helps the inevitability soon approaching, anyway. And just as effortlessly, he assumes the position with you. One arm under your neck, letting your sleepy body curl into his own, a wing outstretched under you to help comfort you. To add to the feathers hidden under pillowcases, too, from the rate they fall for you.

And for the first time tonight since feeling the edges of his end, unfurling into the chaos of the universe within the very same four walls he had hoped would be his coffin, he feels like he can finally rest. A welcomed break from the tiring thoughts, and from the oppressive atmosphere the threatens to pick his wings from his very back; bone and all.

It almost convinces him that he was, and certainly is, good.

But he will never be a good man. He tried— God did he fucking try for you. Did his absolute best to be human, learning through doing; you were ever helpful in his endeavours to denounce his divinity. But alas, here he lays, with the love of his life half asleep in his arms, and all he can feel is home between his teeth. Pick at it all he wants, he never did find out a way to rid the sticky aftertaste of holiness. Like a disease, burning bile in the back of his throat, prompting him to unfortunately cough to clear God from his windpipes and further disrupt your sleep.

“Sorry,” he once again whispers at you, tightening his arm under your neck, another apology resting in his demanding hug. “Caught a cold, I think.”

“It’s okay, Sammy.” You stress, and he feels the urge to apologise again. And again, and again, and again. He doesn’t think he could repeat the prayer of sorry enough times, for he is simply one of His least qualified angels, fluent only in loving the wrong god. He knows only the language of almosts, turning his body in towards you, shuffling along that edge he so precariously sits on even now just so that he can smile at you some more. He’d do anything for you— even die.

“I love you, y’know?” he says as if on instinct, coming naturally to him upon seeing your closed eyed lazy smile. “I will love you for as long as this life will have me, and even after that, too.”

You merely hum back at him, clearly exhausted from the hard days farm work, and he suddenly thinks that he wouldn’t want it any other way. It’s nice, actually. For mother Earth to treat him no differently than you, as if recognising him as a fellow mortal, finally. Laid here beside you so late at night; or is it early morning? He lost track of time a while ago now. But it’s exciting to be recognised as one of the same, and he wears his final moments like a badge of honour.

Though no one will remember you, the moon casts against your cheek, drawing him closer to your angelic face, and they will not make note of you, except of your disappearance, she scolds him, and he takes her harshness with grace, because she’s speaking across your lips, wasn’t it at least fun?

He can’t argue with that, bursting into light laughter at the plain thought. Loving you was fun. It is fun, the humour in his chest continuing at the way your lashes flutter open to the commotion, and adoration floods his lungs.

“What’s funny?” you yawn, his mind growing sluggish with his very own undoing, so he takes a second longer than usual to respond to you.

“Nothin’, jus’ happy, s’all.”

He’s not saying very much, he’s aware. It’s difficult to sort through his thoughts in the face of your cuteness, is all. Too many words swirl in his mind, screaming pick me, pick me! But what’s the best way to appropriately explain the amount of love he holds for you? How can he, ever, accurately formulate the correct string of words to precisely and utterly convey just how blessed he feels to know you, to have known you, and to forever know you? Burning the feeling of your dead leg digging into his hip bone into his hot flesh, so that it exists forevermore— “Can I show you, please?” he settles on, because you’ve taught him that sometimes, actions are far better than words. And though it was not part of his original will, he can’t help but to continue to dote upon you even in his final hours. A hopeless romantic deep down, he supposes. Caring more for you than himself, even if he can afford to act a little more selfish now of all times.

“If you’re not too tired, I mean…” he’s quick to follow up with, not wanting to pressure you into following his eager pursuit of the ultimate death; he’d be just as happy if you simply fell asleep by his side during the whole ordeal, too.

But graciously, you yawn up at him once more, nonetheless turning onto your back. An invitation, he’s learnt. One that he swiftly follows up with by kneeling before you, shuffling his way under the sheets and between your legs. This is his favourite place to worship, and you’re doing him a great unknown honour by allowing him his final supper.

“Will it help you sleep?” you ask, darting your eyes to the barely curtained window, drawn back and wide open to allow moonlight to dance across the floorboards— he wanted to gaze upon your hard work one last time. He’s so incredibly proud of you, y’know?

“It will,” he promises, genuinely. “You too, I bet.”

“You make a good point…”

Giggles. He’s gonna miss giggles, especially yours as you warm his chest up with the sound of joy following your cheeky comment. Shared over natural chemistry, pure instinct borne out of each others company. He’s gonna miss the way your nose wrinkles when you laugh, and how your eyes squeeze shut with promise, beaming up at him like the sun itself; only far warmer, his own personal little sun. Even if you beg to differ, he can’t help but to squint his eyes back down at you when you so easily allow him passage forwards. Like the warm morning sun he’s unsure if he’ll last to kiss, you beckon him closer with that gentle sleepy smile he’s fallen in love with over and over again. Who cares about greeting the morning anew when he’s got you radiating back at him?

His actions remain light, rubbing whispered promises against your knees with his mild thumbs, smoothing them over ever crease and crevice of your legs in a silent act of worship. He knows that heaven exists— not because he’s an angel, but because he met you; ironically, the far better angel than he’ll ever be.

“Aren’t I always?” he teases you back, half-hearted at best— he knows who the real boss of this relationship is deep down. It was never him to begin with, not with the way he follows around after you like a little lost puppy at every God given opportunity. Prophet girl, the suns chosen; he never stood a fucking chance when put against you.

Still, he appreciates it when you play along with him. Offering him the kindest of scoffs before reprimanding him with “You have your moments.”

It’s as he’s helping part your thighs wider, inching closer to to his favourite place on Earth, and hooking a finger under your panties—thank God you tend to sleep in only them during the night, for he fears he could not wait a single second longer due to his wound—that he realises something. What kind of a cruel God creates for the sake of loving, and then subsequently snuffs out that creation for fulfilling its purpose? What kind of a joke was his existence in the first place? Were his siblings, too, cast out of the heavens on some cruel holy mission only to slowly realise that this is but a mere suicide?

It’s silly, how he tries to grapple with the subject of his life. And yet still, it’s but another reminder of his dwindling humanity. A small comfort in such a tender moment with you, that no matter how many questions go unanswered by his so called father, he has you. Sighing so sweetly that it burns his ears red, bunching the sheets up in your barely awake fists, twisting and turning to help him remove those sacred garments— plain and cute, and the feeling of the soft fabric between his nimble fingers serves as a catalyst. Smoothed against the palm of his hand as he slowly tugs the fabric down, noting the slight damp patch adorning it.

He misses you already.

But he keeps a brave face, making a show of his enjoyment by dragging your underwear up to his lips, bunching it up like you do with the sheets just to give it a good long sniff.

“Freak.” You lovingly scold him.

“Only for you. Your freak.” He corrects you.

He’s joking, clearly. Playing along with the facade that having him sniff your scent down his hungry lungs isn’t one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen—he’s already noticed the way you shuffle sheepishly with arousal at the perverted display—but he’s also reciting prayer for you. It’s not just hot, it’s also an assurance.  Look, his tongue darts out against the fabric to beg of you, how I love every part of you, he reassures by licking a fat stripe up the meagre wet spot, being sure to suckle on it to swallow every last drop of you. Let none go to waste.

And he’d love to sit here and worship you forever and ever, like a loyal dog. Tilting his head curiously at the thought, he really is just a loyal little dog for you. A creature made for loving, without really being good for anything else. He’s supposed to love you, that’s his God given job. But the ticking time bomb in his chest made of glass shards and peeping eyes claw at his heart, not anymore, the rusted nails dig into his lungs harsher. Now, your job is to be dead. Like an overflowing cup, too much of him spills from the rim and onto you, placing your panties to the side while he assumes an unholy position between your legs.

Not yet, he whispers kisses along your inner thigh on his way down, hooking his arms around your underside to rest on your waist; you can’t escape his devotion, not tonight.

“Let me know if you wanna stop.” He peers up at you, face mere inches away from your bare cunt now as he snakes his body down the bed, not missing the way he must really resemble Adam, salivating over your apple. At the end of the day, you were right as always, he internally grins. And he just wants to make this experience a pleasant one for you, too. As much as he can anyway, in spite of the fact that he’s signing his very own death warrant under your sheets.

And your voice is so soft and gentle when you respond with “Always, Sammy.” that he can’t stop himself from voicing his appreciation, groaning unashamedly when your hand comes up to reassuringly stroke through his messy bedhead hair. You never tell him to stop, but he likes to remind you that he will, absolutely, whenever you ask, stop. Because he is a simple servant to you, his God. Nothing in this world is his, except for you. He’d follow you to the ends of the Earth and further if you so much as asked him to. So stopping is the least he can offer, even if his cock twitches to life at the mere thought of pleasing you tonight— he couldn’t imagine a better send of, honestly.

But before he can dive into his last meal, you call his attention once more. And like the stupid mutt he is deep down, his ears perk up immediately to the sound of your breathy tone.

“You’re pretty like this,” you hum, a teasing lilt to your words that just begs for his attention, cracking a smile on his weary face. “Thank you.”

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. And I know, deep down, that I would undoubtedly do it again and again, as many times as you'd unfortunately allow. For there is so sweeter taste than my lover under sheets.

You like to remind him on dark, oppressive night like these, that the stars shine brightest in their last moments. And he can see the twinkle in your eyes even now, half lidded and hazy, but bright before him. Peering down in that sultry manner he’s fallen victim to on so many occasions before, his tummy filling with butterflies to counteract the razor blades in response. It’s like you can tell, somehow, that his light is bursting forth for one last time before dwindling infinitely, exploding in on himself in only the most romantic of ways. Are you aware of what you’re thanking him for? Can you tell how much he truly appreciates those simple words, rolling his eyes back briefly in enjoyment before hiding his honesty between your legs, cock twitching against the soft sheets under his hips at the first and last full inhale of your pretty pussy.

Angel cunt, divinity between your legs, ripe for his taking. His tongue automatically darts out upon drawing closer to your cunt, and his cock dribbles some more onto your sheets in wanting. Beads of his love for you dripping, spilling around his fat erection the moment your slick hits his taste buds, and he takes a mental note to savour you. You taste like heaven, but fuck if you weren’t built for sin. Because nothing gets him harder than worshipping you, making you feel good under his pointed flicks and greedy sucks, letting his tongue lay flat along your slit to soak up most of your slick before rolling it upwards, circling around your clit for a few seconds— he can’t help but to slurp around it, his lashes fluttering shut with a roll of his eyes. And then he’s sucking on it for you, making sure to swallow around you just as much as he collects spit, dripping saliva down your pretty pussy to make her all messy and sloppy; just the way you like it, right?

This, between your legs, is his true home. More than the clouds above and the warmth of his wings, the sound of your heavenly sighs and shuffling sheets is more homely than anything before. His fingers, deft and nimble from all the guitar playing he’s partook in on his time on Earth—a pleasure in it’s own right, he’ll miss that too—lifts to your twitching hole, one pad rimming the outside; there’s time yet to tease you, he bargains. For you alone, he is weak.

You just taste so good, always, but especially tonight. Sweeter than usual, like your body knows this to be his last. More than anything, he wants to eat you out until the end of time. Drink you up and swallow down every last drop of juice your sacred hole has to offer him, make you writhe and tremble on your soft sheets for more for all eternity, because fuck his broken existence. Only you matter to him, and the way your muted moans make his cock dribble some more, forming a little puddle under him to match your own leak under your hole, has him acting out. Like an unruly teenager, struck by his first love, hormones going haywire with how rock hard his cock is from just a little petting of your cunt. How much of the holy water staining your sheets sheer is your slick versus his saliva, he wonders?

The finger rimming your hole dips into your cunt and dives as deep as possible, fucking in and out of you in tandem with his circling tongue; near violent with how much he desires you. He’s done this so many times before that it’s almost become routine by now, a repeated prayer of please, let me taste you some more. You deserve it, most of all, for putting up with him tonight. It only makes sense that he thanks you with a curl of his finger, helping stretch that tight little hole out with sacrilegious intent, paying special attention to your puffy little clit with loud slurps and a droning hum to send vibrations through your system.

“Sam, God—!” you gasp, all pretty and hushed, hidden under the bed sheets with him as if doing so would somehow prolong his lifespan. And he shakes the misuse of God from his mind, risking a particularly deep knuckle fuck to bring your attention back to him, where it rightfully belongs. It’s okay, his finger strokes your insides. I’m happy, his lips suck around your clit. “There, right there,” your nails rise to dig into his scalp, a desperate plea for more, and he’d be a fool not to oblige his God. “Do that again, please—”

He’s happy to hear that his angel is a little more awake now, more alert to his divine touch that threatens to ruin you, his wings flapping eagerly behind his heavy back at how urgently you encourage him to continue with tiny tugs and muted gasps. He needn’t be told twice, flicking his tongue over your clit a little faster and pumping his fingers in and out to match the speed, curling against your sweet spot right… There…

“Sammy—!” Bingo.

He doesn’t come up for air; he won’t need it where he’s going anyway, so he wants to get used to the sensation of choking. And there’s no better way to test his limits than to gag on your sweet nectar, dropping his lips down to your hole as soon as his fingers leave in an effort to swallow all your slick, fucking his tongue and in out of you devoutly to help you milk that orgasm out fully. The sound of his name repeatedly falling from your lips is enough thanks for him, but he won’t deny that feeling your thighs muffle around his ears is even better, got his hips acting up when they rut against your sheets once or twice in lewd response.

He only stops kitten licking and swallowing around you when you tenderly pull his head upwards, an exasperated sigh falling from your pretty bitten lips; so swollen and wet, God— he wants to eat your face, too.

“Fuck—” you sigh after a few moments, all smiles and shivers, and his falling feathers ruffle in response. Trailing under you, leaving you trembling in a bed of white roses. He wonders if you’ve noticed them yet. “I don’t think this’ll help me sleep after all.”

“Sorry,” he hums genuinely, but he can’t even hope to hide the boyish smirk that tugs on his lips, an act of defiance against you… Or is it God? What is the difference now, really? Is it really that important to decipher when he can feel the lions jaw close in around his soul? “I’m not done with you yet, though.” He wards the feeling of an approaching roar off.

“I’d hope not.”

Irony is endless. He may now understand his lifes purpose, borne out of the lines on your face when you smile up at him, hidden under your pillows, where an indent of his arm sleeps soundly— will that, too, disappear with him? But with understanding comes nonexistence, and the fault lies with him, apparently. Falling for you is in his blood, and it is with the same blade that his throat is slit, dripping down onto your front and in your hair and on your sheets and on your tongue and God… He can only hope that the stains of his existence are easily washed out. You will, won’t you? Wash him out?

Because sometimes suffering is just that. It won’t make you any stronger, and it won’t offer any deeper meaning to his life. Sometimes, suffering just hurts. Like when he peers down at you from above, sitting more upright now to allow his wings to cast the prettiest shadow over the moonlit back light of your face, and he feels as though his lungs are failing. For all he knows, they very well might be at this point. But he persists, for you. For his selfish desires that put him in this position in the first place— for the rock hard erection that still yet throbs with life, all for you.

“You’re so pretty.” He blurts out, lost in his train of thought while idly stroking himself. He’s kneeling before you again, chin stained shiny and cock throbbing in his loose grip; he’s too idle with his stroking, so much so that he almost forgets what must happen tonight. Too busy admiring you from above, hoping that you can see the way his gaze sparkles for you. “You deserve the world.”

You assume position too, leaning into the long built unspoken language of lovers by way of opening your legs wider, prompting him to bite down on his bottom lip at the sight of your sopping wet little cunt. Pretty, too, just like your face. And your body. And your voice, and your hair, and your— “Thank you. I think you’re pretty too.” You interrupt his self indulgence, but he’s hardly mad. His cheeks flushing warm at your honest praise, he can’t take his eyes off the way you lay there so perfectly pliant. It’s insufferable, just how much he loves you. How it has him leaning down to press a sticky with slick kiss against your wanting lips, his heart stuttering at the way he can feel you smile into the shared saliva.

He’ll never forget about you. Not even for a fucking second. You were, and still are, worth it.

The tiny halo atop his head cracks with his thoughts. Just a little, barely noticeable, even. But he can feel the weight of his musings bearing down on him as he guides his cock to your cunt. Tired fist wrapped so tight around the base of it, tapping the tip against your sensitive clit once or twice just to hear you squeak in pleasure. One last time, just like that.

“Are y’ready?” He asks, because he’s genuinely not sure if he is.

“Of course.” You respond so easily, because you’ve always given him courage he so sorely lacks at times.

“All right, jus’ lemme know if—”

“Sammy,” you reach out for him, touch as tender as your voice is. “It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.” you kiss the words against his arms, and he can do nothing but give in to you.

Of course. You were here before him, and you’ll exist after him. But rather than acknowledging so, he simply nods instead. Confident and reassured thanks to your affirmations, he prepares to give you what he always strives for.

“Promise t’make y’feel real good.” He huffs, letting his leaking tip rest between your soft folds before automatically rolling his hips a little to feel your warm heat try to envelop him whole. And normally, he’d have you waiting a little while longer for this. Make you writhe and squeal and beg him for this; his cock heavy and beading precum against your red little clit. Normally, he’d have all the time in the world and more to dote upon you in privacy, down on his hands and knees by your feet just pleading for another chance, just one more, c’mon baby, I know y’can do it.

But it’s the end of the world, so he figures that giving in to his natural selfish desires just this once is okay, right? Especially considering the way your brows furrow from the meagre amount of contact he’s provided you thus far, and the way your chest heaves so persistently, body begging for him when your words get lost on you… He’s sure it should be fine.

So he gives in. Just like that, without second thought. He angles his cock down with the pad of his thumb, letting his other hand rest gently by the side of your head— careful. He’s always so careful with you, treating you like glass, afraid that if he were to not be so gentle with you, that you’d disappear from beneath his very fingertips. And he absolutely can't have that happening, not right now.

His wings ruffle some more to spend plenty feathers, a shiver of pleasure rolling down his spine at the feeling of your hole twitching eagerly against his leaking tip. You are sin incarnate, coaxing him to fall further for you, and he’s never felt so good to be so impure. He takes in a single breath, steeling himself for what’s to come, before dipping his tip inside of your wanting hole with a further crack of his halo. Catching perfectly into you to force a gasp from your pretty lips, and fuck, it feels so good to die.

“God—” he gasps, with the amount of heavy reverence your cunt demands of him. “Can’t get enough of ya— shit—” he pushes in some more, well aware of the fact that he’s barely filled you up and he’s already dying for more. “Mine. All mine.”

He punctuates his act of ownership with a quick and mortal thrust forward, unable to hold himself back the second he enters your cunt; you are his very own undoing. And he’s powerless to stop his hips from stuttering in, coating his cock in that sweet slick he fell for in the very beginning, and he knows for sure that the Gods must be envious of him in this moment. To feel your walls squirm around him as he eventually bottoms out, soft and squishy and fucking perfect, divinity coursing through your veins to wrap around him so tightly; to be so human is a blessing, he thinks. And yet still, somehow, you are his cosmos. Sooooo fucking pretty under him, gasping for air as his balls rest flat against your ass and your hips are turned slightly upwards to help ease him into your angel cunt, and fuck— he can’t fucking stand it anymore. When he dies, which he must do, he’d like to go out with a bang. Physically and metaphorically.

You’re ruining him, and you’ve done nothing but lay there for him. “Taking me so well, fuck, I needed this—” he praises you regardless, a breathless chuckle escaping his failing lungs. “So beautiful like that, y’were made for me, werent’cha?”

And he’s not certain you understand the gravity of his words, or how true they really are, but he appreciates your meek approval regardless. A soft spoken, fucked out little “Mhm—!” Crawled up your throat for his heavenly pleasure. He does his best to relish in how wrecked you sound, knowing deep down in his bones that it’s not what you do, or what you say that he’ll remember. But it’s how you make him feel that’ll stick with him, all dizzy and light-headed, heat coursing through his system to leave him breathless above you.

As far as coffins go, this house is the perfect burial. Comfortable and familiar, balls deep in your cunt, he offers you mere seconds to grow accustomed to his final searing stretch. Because to be human is to accept the inevitability of it all, a shudder running through him at the way you look picture perfect under him. Like an old classical painting, caught in a moment of utter passion— he does everything in his power to burn the image in his mind.

“I’m gonna get movin’ now, ‘kay?” He warns you, because it is a warning. With how heated his temper is right now, he can’t be blamed for fucking you within an inch of your life, surely, as he intends to do. Drawing his hips back until only his tip remains inside of you, just to selfishly hear that little whimper drip from your pretty pouty lips like usual. Comforting in its predictability, he loves you beyond words. “Good girl.” Escapes him, an automatic worship, before he’s slowly pushing his cock back inside of you. Making you endure every throbbing inch of his heavy cock, carving his shape out in your hole, and then again. And again, and again, settling into a tedious pace of in and out— torturous even for him. Teasing both parties to try and draw the inescapable end out for just a little longer. He misses you with every thrust in, and he loves you with every draw back out.

“Feels good—” you struggle on the words for him, and he chokes with you. Voice caught in his throat from the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through him. Enough to rival the dwindling divinity within him, specks of gold dust your bed sheets with his lazy fucks. And you’re right, it does feel good. Unfairly so, as if the universe was playing some kind of sick joke on him. Here, your lover lies, forever pretty under the spilling moonlight. Here, she feels better than ever, squirming on the end of your cock, gasping into the night air as a form of thanks. And here, you must lay on the bed of your own making.

Ouch, he thinks. But the pain of knowing that he’ll soon leave you—there’s nothing you could have done to help him, y’know that, right?—is easily pushed aside when your cunt wraps ever tighter around him, squelching slick around the base of it for his viewing pleasure. The feathers that fall to signify his status of death compliment you well too, he thinks. Surrounding your shivering frame in a manner most befitting a God. Ruffled out of him with eager thrusts, his pace quickening under the tight squeeze of your cunt just begging for more. And he can’t hope to stop fucking into you from how good you feel now, choking him so nice and tight like you know this to be the end, causing him to fall further into you. One hand locked around your waist to keep you pinned in place, the other supporting his broad shoulders by your head. His nails dig into you, just a little, as if to communicate the gravity of his decision. “Love you—” he whispers fervently, cut off by a telling moan barely bitten back by his terse lips. “I love you, love you so much—” he whispers, not out of shame, but out of a want for you to be the only one to hear his prayers. “Love you so much it hurts—” he fucks into your harder now, harsher, communicating the significance of his existence, and the impact your life has had on his own tapering one, with how heavy his thrusts turn out to be. How with every fuck his halo shatters that little bit more, the tips of his wings turning to ash before his very eyes.

But he’s being honest, y’know, about how much it hurts to be so in love with you. His sacred lover, taking his cock so well, letting his limbs entangle with your own so that he can’t find where you start and he ends. It’s nice that way, right? A shared mix of fluids, your cunt leaking all over his cock— so much so that some of it spills down to his balls, causing a loud slap! to reverberate against your four small walls when his thrusts increase in speed, a desperate bid for more, more, more. He could never get enough of you, never in a million lifetimes. And he, too, spills precum against your walls. Drowning your cunt in his slick, an ever outpouring of his love for you through such seedy means; though God may not approve of his affections, you do, don’t you? Clawing at his tense arms, muscles taut under your loving scratches. He will not relent, not for a fucking second will he give you anything but his best. Because you’re his just as much as he is yours, and you deserve his loyal, unending thrusts. Fast enough to prompt him into adding more weight to your hips, just to keep you from being fucked up the bed. Deep enough to leave him breathless, heaving for those last few gulps of air he’s allowed under the heavy squeaks and squeals of the bed below him.

And oh, how lovely you sound when matching the bed. All high pitched and airy, the sight of your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pure bliss is almost too much for him to endure. His jaw snapping shut to grind his teeth, exhaling through his nose back down at you. He’s sure that he must looked so pained right now, fucking you so full of his fallen angel cock that he can barely keep up with himself, a mess of the man you fell in love with. Especially with the way his wings appear broken by now, crooked and mismatched, tainted by his profane reason for living, but he continues. Relentless in his loving assault, moving the hand on your hip down to your puffy clit once more in a final bid of defilement.

“C’mon—” he rasps, voice lost on him due to the oil that tars his system all clogged up, “I got you, jus’ one more, y’can do that fr’me, right?” he ends up pleading from you, humping into your tight hole with newfound carelessness in an effort to have you cream his cock— it’s all he wants, now, selfishly. To feel you reciprocate his dying wish in kind, his thumb slipping and sliding between your folds for a moment or two due to how hard and fast he fucks, leaving him a little off balance. But he finds you soon enough, cooing down at the way you whine and shiver from under him when he rubs sloppy circles against your sensitive clit. He knows you’re close— a lifetime with you offers him entrance to your secrets. The quiver of your thighs around him, as well as the repeated pulsing of your insides, squirming around his fast fucks, is all he needs to know that you’re close. So he doubles his efforts, pressing messily against your clit with half thrusts, focused more on your pleasure than his own, as per usual.

And he can hear just how much you appreciate it due to the small and forgiving sounding “Sammy—!” you whine, a knee-jerk reaction causing his hips to falter some more inside of you.

Instinct commands him to fall down, his body completely encasing your own in one fell swoop, frantic wings doing their best to cover your enjoyment from prying Godly eyes as his lips naturally find home on your neck for a heated kiss. He can’t breathe, suffocated by your tight heat, warm little hole soon creaming around his cock just like he wanted it to— but still he finds the strength to mutter a weak “Fuck— don’t— y’can’t sound that good, or I’m gonna—”

It’s prophetic, almost, how soon he follows suit. Coaxed into painting your insides white with fat ropes of cum the second your cunt starts to squeeze rhythmically around his cock, milking him for all he’s worth; which at this point is very little, but he does his best for you. It’s a surprise that he’s lasted this long, truth be told. Nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, he urgently pants hot air against your damp skin in between open mouthed kisses, downright desperate to keep your scent in his lungs, his own hair sticky with sweat too when he pushes ever closer towards you, driving his cock deeper against your womb in some vain attempt to leave a lasting memory of himself.

But here, he can do something, at least. A final hurrah, urged into action from how madly in love with you he is to the point of delirium. Feathers twitch behind him as he latches onto your neck with different purpose, grazing his teeth against that sweet spot of yours—the resulting soft sigh you exhale only has his cock throbbing some more, a few more drops of cum dripping to make your cunt extra sticky—before he sucks. Long and hard, using the last of his strength to leave a temporary mark, because God cannot even hope to take this part of him away from you. It’s outside of his jurisdiction, he hopes.

He heaves once he’s satisfied that he’s sucked on your neck sufficiently, pulling back to marvel at the wet bruise soon to bloom on your pliant skin. And, because he’s completely spent, he lets his cock drag out of you with a pop! A shared wince hissed amongst satisfied lovers, it’s so easy for him to fall by your side with a light oof.

“Gosh...” You gasp after a few moments of silence, embracing the mutual huffs and puffs for air with kindness and grace. He’s struggling, now, but his arm automatically snakes under your neck once again, and he instinctively pulls you closer like some home safety routine.

“Yeah,” he agrees with your wordless thanks, coughing to clear his throat— or is it to remove the barbed wire? He can’t distinguish clearly now, which must mean only one thing. “C’mon, I love you, but hurry an’ get back t’sleep. It’s late.”

He does his best to sound as caring and considerate as possible, releasing a sigh of relief when you smile a whispered yes boss before snuggling in closer, and a quick peek down at you as he offers you a last forehead kiss shows that your eyes are closed, and finally, he can fully relax by your side.

He doesn’t mean to rush you, but he’s been selfishly using borrowed time till now, and he doesn’t want to have you endure his ending whilst awake. So he, too, closes his eyes with you. Though he needn’t have to; angels don’t sleep. But it just feels natural to, humanities last gift. Rest, now, the moon implores him. Promise it’ll be like a dream.

And it’s not that he doubts Mother Earth, but rather, his brows furrow in confusion. But mom, he resembles that of a child. There is no better dream than her.

Nothing replies back to him, which he takes as mutual understanding. He’s correct in knowing that nothing could ever beat resting by your side, watching you fall back asleep peacefully, soundless in your blissful ignorance. He hopes that he’s warm enough for you to cuddle into, and that he’s left you feeling satisfied enough. He doesn’t think he could take not serving his God properly, as you deserve. That'd be a fate worse than death, no doubt.

Once more, he glances down at you. At the way your chest rises and falls wordlessly, such a simple detail to notice, but one that he hopes sticks with him through his nearby transition. You’re really pretty in the moonlight, y’know? And you suit his limited parting gift as well, all red and blotchy, but his mark. You're beautiful in your unknowing.

And his voice comes out before he has a chance to check himself, an unavoidable aspect to death, he supposes. Letting it all loose for you.

“When you wake up to a world absent of me, just know that you made me the happiest.”

He can’t stop himself, now. Quiet in his affections, pushing through the ache in his chest to say his final goodbyes.

“And I’ll miss you, like a lonely little dog.” He forces out cheap laughter, cheeks tinted warm from the sheer state of himself. “And I’ll wait for you, too.” He reassures you, flinching at the way his wings now stab into his back like iron daggers, their usual softness is nowhere to be found, besides amongst your bed sheets. Though he hopes, fucking prays that you’ll never find your way back to him. You deserve heaven, he thinks, as opposed to the exile he’ll soon be greeting for going against His word.

“Good dogs wait, right?” He coughs again, squinting at the specks of blood that spatter against his panting chest. “Was I good enough?” he questions you, not his God, the Earth, or anybody else. But you, who dozes so serenely beside him, unaware of his current predicament. He’s made quite sure of that. “Didn’t you say that all dogs go to heaven, even if they did some bad things?” Then why not him? Why not him? Was his sin far too egregious to be allowed in heaven? His crime of loving you?

It’s pointless, he realises, to ruminate. Taking to throwing his head back to stare up at the ceiling absentmindedly instead, and warmth spreads throughout his entire being in the action. He briefly wonders about who will look after you when he's gone, and how much he grieves for you already. The dim light from his broken halo is swollen with: love was here, as a defiance. And in between the cracks in smaller writing is: it still is. He thinks he will always wonder if he could have saved you from the pain, if only love could have saved you, then he'd still be here after you.

He will ask God why for the rest of time itself. And he knows, intimately now in the mundanity of it all, that he will never come to an understanding. Even if God himself came down for a personal chat to tell him the exact reason as to why he has been branded with sweet sin, he would never accept it. Could never accept it. With great love comes great pain, and my God, you were the greatest.

Thank you escapes his lips again, mouthed to the rickety old lampshade staring back down at him. Maybe he should have fixed that before tonight, too.

Maybe he should have—

taglist !! (i know this one is late im sorry i FORGOT i will add it to future writing tho !!)

@wrongdodo @loverboykirstein @buniieboo @bnvlntce @lovethethief @sashiavi @deepestnightcolor @kyrothehornypuppy @catboyjesus @mollybun @scrunkle-writings @girlconsume @quoththe-ravenn @anonymousren @nervous-obsolete @pastelhedgehog @kyrasmoon @cherryminxx

(praying that these work)

[kooggukk]

── ONLY ON SCREEN || JJK #2

gamer!jk x gamer!reader (ft. taehyung, jimin)

jungkook’s eyes were burning on your skin, his eyes not leaving you until his friend threw his arm around his shoulder, catching his attention. they laughed and clinked their glasses, drinking the alcohol.

he frowned at the bitter taste of it but soon his features smoothed out, he immediately glanced back to where you were standing before, but now gone.

he looked around quickly, his eyes.. sad? no, maybe disappointed more like. you really caught his attention when you bumped into him, your eyelashes long, eyes big and curious, innocent like. your lips just looked perfect to him, the little bit of make up you put on made them shine, he couldn’t help but wonder how it must feel to connect his lips with yours, in a slow and deep kiss.

he loved your thick and dark, healthy hair which was let down, almost reaching till your waist. he loved how you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear when you looked up to him. he noticed your cute earrings, butterfly. a blue butterfly.

he loved your outfit, oh he really did. though you were in a club, you didn’t show off your body. you didn’t show off your curves, which he wish he had seen. but he quickly assumed you’re just not that type of a girl, and maybe that’s what dragged his mind constantly to you.

“hey,” jungkook looked up at the sudden greet, meeting with a girl. he frowned, but greeted her back with a small smile.

“hi,” he simply said, his eyes looking her up and down, all he could think of is how different she was from you. your choice of clothes completely the opposite, her boobs literally almost fell out of her dress. her face covered with lots of heavy make up.

“sorry, uhm,” she started and looked back at her friends. “i got dared to come up to you, i don’t really have any interest in you, though,” she awkwardly laughed.

he looked where her gaze went, he realized it’s the same table and group of friends where you were standing not that long ago.

“ah, i see.” he nodded, not quite sure how to respond to that.

“i’ll just tell them you rejected me,” she chuckled and reached her hand out. “nari, by the way.”

“jungkook.” he shook her hand, her rings felt cold against his skin. “so nari, how about you go back, and in a few minutes i’ll be there with a drink for you?” he asked with a raised brow, the corner of his lips curved with a small smile.

“a drink? why?” she frowned.

“as a sorry for ‘rejecting’ you,” he shrugged. “i’m a gentleman, let the others be jealous, yeah?” he chuckled.

she nodded with a smile too, “yeah sure, if you’d like.”

he hummed, “i’ll be there soon.” he watched her walk back to her friends, acting sad and embarrassed. he saw her friends pout and pat her on the shoulder.

he chuckled at that, her acting was good. so, he hurried to the bar to get a drink for her, not something that screams ‘let’s fuck tonight’ — but something light and sweet.

he decided on a non-alcoholic drink, obviously he didn’t want her to get wasted. he got her a shirley temple. a classic one, he knew that, but who doesn’t like it, right?

he thanked the bartender and started walking to her table, some eyes already watched him approach. a guy quickly tapped her on the back, she looked up, acting all surprised to see him.

“hey,” he greeted everyone, but his eyes stayed on nari. “for you.” was all he simply said and reached out the drink.

a girl next to her squealed, finding the scene so romantic. “oh,” nari said with raised brows. “thank you.” she took the drink from him. “shirley?” she asked and jungkook nodded with a smile.

he was about to leave until a voice called out to him. “wait!” he looked back with big eyes. “stay with us, for a bit.” the girl smiled and the others agreed with a nod or a small ‘yes’. not wanting to seem rude, he scratched the back of his head and nodded.

“sure,” he plopped down next to a guy. “taehyung.” he said with a smile and drank from his beer. “jungkook.” everyone introduced themselves, but he already forgot half of their names.

he remembered nari, obviously. then there was mimi, the girl who invited him to sit, taehyung, the guy he sat next to and jaehyun, who sat between mimi and nari.

they chatted for some time, jungkook learned that they all work at an animation studio, not that big, though. he also found out that taehyung sings, as just a hobby.

“yea, i just finished writing a song. i need a music video and then it’s done, want the world to see it too.” he told jungkook, they were faced to each other while the others talked.

he nodded, “that’s impressive. y’know,” he took a sip of a beer that he got during their chit chat time. “i’m a videographer, i could definitely film your music video.” taehyung eyes shined at that.

“seriously?” jungkook nodded. “i can’t promise to do it for free, i obviously need to live somehow. but i can make a discount for you.”

taehyung immediately nodded at that, he took his phone out. “here, add your number. i’ll contact you.” jungkook smiled and wrote his number in.

“cool, i’m excited to work with you.”

two days later, and all you could hear at work was taehyung excitedly talking about how his music video is gonna be filmed. you felt happy for him, really, but the fact that it was jungkook made you uneasy. what if he’ll come to your work place to meet taehyung?

what ifs kept coming back to your mind, you spent the day like that. “you good?” taehyung asked when you both walked out of the building, his steps quick to catch up to you.

you hummed and looked at him, “oh, yeah.” you smiled at him, not really a real smile.

he squinted his eyes at you and leaned in, investigating your face. you frowned and he pulled back and smiled. “good.”

you chuckled at his silly action, “when do you start your filming?”

“today.” your eyes widened, he smiled when he saw your shocked face. “yeah, he has time for me but not for long, we only have 2 weeks.” you nodded at him.

you knew jungkook was sometimes pretty scheduled with his work, so you decided in your head that you’ll be playing alone — or with jimin or yoongi, and not with jungkook.

it’s not like that bothered you, you loved them all equally, there’s no doubt in that. but lately it was just always you and jungkook, so it was obvious you both got closer a bit.

your phone dinged, jungkook sent a message in the group chat.

‘can’t play today, or the upcoming days. piled up with work :(‘

you reacted with a heart to his message and quickly shoved your phone back in your pocket, before taehyung could see you were talking to jungkook.

“i wish you luck, tae.” you suddenly broke the silence between you too, he looked up from his phone too. “thanks.” he grinned at you, you both hugged each other goodbye as you walked away.

“hey, man!” you recognized jungkook’s voice as he greeted taehyung, you looked back and saw them exchange a small hug. your heart fastened it’s pace again, you turned back and quickly walked away, wanting to get away from the scene before he saw you.

unlucky. he noticed you hug taehyung, his face was emotionless, pretty great at hiding his feelings because for sure his heart was beating like crazy. you, here? he assumed you worked with taehyung.

when he gave a quick hug to taehyung with a slight slap on his back, he glanced at your back figure walking away.

you spent your afternoon with continuing your work, it was a drawing. yes, you’re also an animator. (who wouldn’t have guessed since you work with taehyung lol) jimin texted in the group chat, saying he was free and looked forward to spend some time with you.

sadly, yoongi couldn’t join you again either, he apologized a million times but his boss keeps giving him extra hours at the café.

you don’t blame him, you never did. you understand, happens with anyone. so, with just jimin, you both decided to just talk and not play, both of you felt too tired for that tonight.

you talked for hours about anything. work, dogs, babies, cookies and even about meeting up with him. though the last one was more like a joke. you’re never say something like that to him when you’re sober.

you weren’t drunk, just tipsy as you both sipped on your beers while calling. “c’monnn, just one picture.” jimin whined and you laughed again, he kept failing at asking you for a selfie.

“stop it, i said no,” he pouted, his camera was on, obviously. you looked up at your camera, it wasn’t on. you stared at it a bit, then glanced back at jimin. he zoned out.

“yah,” you called out to him, your voice wasn’t harsh, more like tired, maybe a bit raspy. “you really wanna see me?”

his pout came back and he nodded, “yeah, wanna know to whom i let my heart out to while ranting.” you chuckled at that and he softly smiled.

“how do i know you won’t save my pic and use it on the internet?” you joked, his eyes widened and he put his hand on his heart. drama queen.

“i’d never do that!” you laughed and took another sip. “but seriously though, the curiosity is killing me.” he said again, his voice soft.

“i know,” you murmured with a sigh. “it’s not like i haven’t thought about it,” you confessed. they bring up this topic a lot of times, you’ve known them for months. maybe it was time?

“hey, i won’t tell anyone if you show me your face.” he grinned and leaned in to the camera, “i promise.” he whispered, his attempt at making you laugh work.

“i know, obviously.”

“then what are you waiting forrr?” he whined again, like a baby seriously. you fell silent, there wasn’t an answer to that honestly. you sucked in a breath, your heart picked up the pace as you hovered the cursor on the camera icon, not clicking it yet.

“you really promise?” your voice was scared, soft. “when did i ever lie to you, hm?” he asked in return, he tilted his head.

you stayed silent, “exactly.” he said with a grin, his eyes barely open. you let out a shaky breath and checked yourself in the mirror that was behind you, your face looked.. normal?

well, you were home. after work. obviously you didn’t have make up on, your hair wasn’t styled nicely, instead it was in a messy bun. your clothes comfy and baggy.

you turned back and clicked on the icon, his eyes immediately dropped on the loading screen that appeared on his computer. ‘fuck the slow internet.’ he thought.

then suddenly, your face popped up. he smiled, “hey.” you giggled, you saw his eyes moving. he was probably inspecting your room too, and not just your face.

he noticed the pink led lights that you had all around your ceiling, making your room dark but comfortable for the eyes. a small part of your bed was visible behind you, neatly done. your whole room seemed clean, unlike his.

“you done checking my room?” you asked with a smile and his eyes got back to you. “sorry,” he apologized and you shook your head. “it’s fine.”

it was silent, he was just looking at you, if it was someone else you’d probably feel uncomfortable by this time. but you understood jimin, knowing he most likely waited so long for this moment.

“you look,” he spoke in a low voice. you stared at him with your big eyes, eagerly waiting for him to finish his sentence. “beautiful.”

── NOTE: thank you sososooo much for so many interactions with the previous part. sadly, i rushed this chapter but i still tried to write more than last time. i might have some typos in there, sorry in advance ;(

— taglist: @asimp4you

[snek-panini]

I actually didn't mean to let nearly two weeks go by since my last bookbinding post, but somehow time has just slipped away from me till now. For today we have a pretty simple one, though:

This is Postcards from Paris, by ghostrat, a story that I asked to bind way back at the beginning of May. It's a Good Omens human au, involving letters received by an unintended recipient and a long sequence of getting to know one another via writing. I love epistolary stories and wish they were more common both in and out of fandom, and this one's really soft. Like the whole last chapter makes me feel all rosy and warm. Go read it if you haven't, it's wonderful.

More photos and such under the cut!

The cover up there is chocolate lineco book cloth with blue metallic htv. Like with many of my small-sized binds, I tried to not buy anything specific to this one and instead make something coherent from what's already on hand, and that philosophy lent itself well here. The story's about getting to know someone with only the verbal impression of them, not even their voice but just the words they choose and their handwriting, and has a lovely feeling of being overwhelmed by their physicality when you finally meet in person, and I think the stripped-down feeling of the bind fits that theme. It's deceptively simple, and you won't realize how deeply you're in love with the story until after you've read it.

Top view, with blue ribbon bookmark, and slate-blue plain cardstock endpapers. I'm pleasantly surprised by how well all the blues match, considering the htv was bought for another project, the endpapers were bought in a multi-pack for another different project, and the ribbon probably was cut from the shoulder of a fancy shirt. I really would have liked to do custom blue-and-brown end bands, but at barely 80 pages the book's too short for that so it's got premade ones in black and white. The front hinge wouldn't behave when I cased it, so it's got that weird wiggly part and I don't know why. I've used this cardstock for endpapers before and never had that issue, so it's a bit of a mystery.

Interior photos. The stripped-down, simple philosophy persists. About the only theming I did was to choose a handwriting font for the larger text, which seemed appropriate for a story told in postcards.

Random interior of typeset. This thing has so many scene breaks, my god. I sincerely thought about picking two handwriting fonts and putting all the postcards in those. They would have been opposing ones so you could tell who was writing without the scene break lines, but it was too difficult to read at this font size and looked kind of messy, so I didn't. I always size down the font a little for quartos, because the full-size one I use for folios looks weird on a half-size page, but this is the only time I've found that decision working against me.

And that's that! As always, I hope I did the story justice with this bind. The designs feel right when I make them, and I hope others agree. I've still got two more books to post from this late spring batch, so those'll be up over the next week or two.