#i did this to one once and their eyes got as big as dinner plates

[saebyeokbliss]

ONCE MORE TO SEE YOU— PART XIII.

synopsis: on a cold january day, you were worrying about the reason your girlfriend wasn’t texting back. when she finally does and asks to meet at your apartment, you’re met with heartbreak as she ends your relationship. no explanation. two years later, you run into her at a cafe with someone new. what are you to do?

warnings: brief mentions of death. cute cheol (i love him so much he's a lil sweetie), self-doubt, rude sae-byeok a little, some fluff actually, light angst

pairing: sae-byeok x fem!reader

Sae-byeok had been avoiding you.

It was obvious.

Before the kiss, she had at least acknowledged you at work—silent glances across the diner, the occasional mumble when passing by, the rare moments where her hand would brush against yours when reaching for the same plate. But now?

Nothing.

She barely looked at you. If she did, it was fleeting, like she was afraid too much eye contact might set something on fire. Conversations were clipped, interactions stiff. You weren’t even sure if she was mad at you or mad at herself. Maybe both.

And it was driving you insane.

It was getting close to closing time when the bell above the diner door jingled, and in walked Ji-yeong—Cheol trailing beside her, his small hand clutching hers tightly.

Sae-byeok, who had been wiping down the counter, visibly tensed at the sight of them.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

Ji-yeong grinned, pulling Cheol toward an empty booth. “What? We can’t come visit you?” She plopped down into the seat and patted the spot beside her for Cheol to sit. “I figured it’s been a while since we had a nice, family dinner.”

Sae-byeok sighed, rubbing her temple. “Ji-yeong…”

“I want diner food,” Cheol chimed in, swinging his legs under the table. “And I wanted to see you.” His big brown eyes locked onto Sae-byeok’s, making her expression soften instantly.

She sighed, defeated. “Fine. But don’t cause trouble.”

Ji-yeong gasped dramatically. “Me? Cause trouble?”

Sae-byeok shot her a glare, but Ji-yeong only smirked, clearly enjoying herself.

And then she spotted you behind the counter.

“Ohh,” Ji-yeong said, dragging out the syllable like she had just uncovered a great secret. She leaned toward Cheol, whispering something in his ear.

Cheol’s eyes lit up. He perked up in his seat, waving enthusiastically in your direction. “Noona!”

You smiled, walking over to their table, dish rag still in hand. “Hey, Cheol,” you said warmly. “You here for dinner?”

“Yup! You should eat with us,” he said earnestly.

Sae-byeok stiffened. Ji-yeong grinned.

“Oh, that’s a great idea,” Ji-yeong said, her voice dripping with mischief. She turned to Sae-byeok, her eyebrows waggling. “Right, Sae-byeok? Since her shift is basically over, she should totally eat with us.”

Sae-byeok shot her a glare that could have melted steel. “Ji-yeong—”

“Please?” Cheol added, giving Sae-byeok the same wide-eyed look that always made her fold.

Sae-byeok sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Fine.”

Ji-yeong beamed in victory.

You tried not to smirk.

Sitting down with them felt almost natural, like slipping into something familiar.

Cheol was practically vibrating with excitement, kicking his feet beneath the table as he babbled about school, his favorite cartoons, and how Ji-yeong had let him eat ice cream before dinner (which earned Ji-yeong a very pointed look from Sae-byeok).

Ji-yeong, of course, took every opportunity to tease Sae-byeok, nudging her under the table whenever she got too quiet.

And you?

You couldn’t help but steal glances at Sae-byeok, watching the way her usual cold exterior softened when she looked at Cheol. Watching the way she tried (and failed) to hide her amusement at Ji-yeong’s antics. Watching the way her shoulders slowly relaxed as dinner went on, like she was allowing herself to enjoy this moment, even if just for a little while.

At one point, Cheol got ketchup all over his cheek, and you instinctively reached over with a napkin to wipe it off.

“There,” you said, smiling at him. “All clean.”

Cheol beamed up at you. “Thanks, Noona!”

Sae-byeok stared.

She didn’t mean to. But something about the way you interacted with Cheol—so effortlessly, so warmly—made something inside her ache.

It wasn’t just Cheol.

It was Ji-yeong too. You laughed at her stupid jokes, she laughed at yours. The way you fit so naturally into this moment, like you belonged here. Like you had always belonged here.

And maybe, once, you had.

A long time ago, before she messed everything up.

Before she left.

She swallowed hard, looking away.

Ji-yeong caught it, of course. She didn’t say anything—just smirked into her drink, nudging Sae-byeok under the table again.

Sae-byeok ignored her.

By the time dinner was over, the tension in Sae-byeok’s chest had twisted into something different. Something she didn’t want to name.

Because watching you with Cheol and Ji-yeong, hearing your laughter mix with theirs, seeing the way you fit so seamlessly into this moment—it reminded her of something she had tried so hard to bury.

She was falling for you.

Again.

Like she had never stopped.

And that terrified her.

Because she knew—no matter how much she wanted to pretend otherwise—she didn’t deserve this.

Didn’t deserve you.

But damn it, she wanted to.

More than anything.

You weren’t expecting her.

After dinner, after the way Sae-byeok had spent the entire night not looking at you, you figured she was going to keep avoiding you. That the wall she had built between you two was too thick, too heavy with guilt to be broken down.

But then, just past midnight, there was a knock at your door.

You hesitated before opening it, pulse quickening when you saw her standing there—hair slightly disheveled, hands stuffed into the pockets of her jacket, eyes filled with something unreadable.

She looked nervous.

Sae-byeok never looked nervous.

“…Hey,” you said softly.

She shifted on her feet, glancing down at the ground before meeting your gaze. “Can I come in?”

You stepped aside without a word, closing the door behind her as she walked in. She didn’t sit down. She just stood there in the middle of your apartment, arms crossed, shoulders tense.

Like she was bracing herself for something.

You swallowed. “Sae-byeok, what’s going on?”

She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “I need to tell you why I’ve been avoiding you.”

You folded your arms, leaning against the couch. “I figured it was because of the kiss.”

She flinched slightly but didn’t deny it. “It’s… more than that.”

Silence.

Then, finally—

“I don’t think I deserve to be with you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You stared at her, heart tightening. “What?”

Sae-byeok’s jaw tightened, and when she spoke again, her voice was raw, like she was forcing the words out despite every instinct telling her to keep them buried.

“I told you everything,” she said. “About Deok-su. About the games. About the people I—” She stopped, shaking her head. “I’ve done things, terrible things, and I don’t want you to be with someone like me.”

You took a step forward. “Sae—”

“I killed him,” she interrupted, her voice harsh, almost desperate. “I stabbed him in the heart and watched him die, and I don’t regret it. I don’t regret any of it. And that… that scares me.”

Her breathing was uneven now, her hands clenched into fists. “I wanted to believe that if I kept you at a distance, if I didn’t let myself feel this, then maybe it wouldn’t matter. That maybe I wouldn’t have to face the fact that the person you think I am—the person I want to be when I’m with you—isn’t real.”

She swallowed hard, finally looking at you again. “You deserve someone better.”

You stared at her for a long moment, letting her words settle.

Then, without thinking, you crossed the space between you and grabbed her face, pulling her into a kiss.

She stiffened at first, like she hadn’t been expecting it, but then she melted into you, her hands gripping your waist as if she was afraid you’d disappear. The kiss was deep, slow, lingering—filled with every unspoken word between you.

When you finally pulled back, you rested your forehead against hers, your breaths mingling in the quiet space between you.

“I wasn’t dwelling on any of that,” you whispered.

She blinked, lips slightly parted. “What?”

“I wasn’t sitting here thinking about what you did in the games, or about Deok-su, or about anything else you’re torturing yourself over,” you said. “The only thing I was thinking about after that kiss was how much I missed you.”

Her breath hitched.

“I spent two years thinking I’d never see you again,” you continued, your voice trembling slightly. “Two years wondering why you left, wondering what I did wrong. And then you kissed me, and for the first time in years, I felt something again. And now you’re standing here, acting like I should hate you, but all I want to do is—”

You kissed her again, softer this time, slower.

When you pulled away, she was looking at you like she didn’t know what to do with herself.

“…You shouldn’t forgive me so easily,” she murmured, but her hands were still gripping your waist, like she couldn’t bear to let go.

You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Too bad.”

She let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, and for the first time in a long time, her shoulders relaxed.

Neither of you spoke for a moment. You just stood there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the weight of the past slowly lifting.

Finally, she whispered, “I don’t know how to do this.”

You squeezed her hand. “Then we’ll figure it out together.”

And for the first time in a long time, Sae-byeok let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she deserved this after all.

taglist: @monroesturnns@everly-summers-solace@holyshtimgay@knfthxv@delfinadolphin@madebysae@jetaimeeeee@m0rtifiedg0th@katieschry1@erika-mon2-blog@tcvazq

[salt-baby]

POTS Medication Vocabulary

after about the third time a doctor prescribed a medication that made my POTS drastically worse, and about three doctors visits past giving up on being an easy patient, i started asking my doctors the following questions whenever they prescribed a new long term medication:

is this medication a hypotensive? (will this medication lower my blood pressure?)

does this medication have a risk of tachycardia? (can this medication raise my heart rate?)

is this medication a diuretic? (will this medication dehydrate me?)

can this medication cause hyponatremia? (will this medication cause my body to lose salt?)

your doctor likely doesn’t know all of this off the top of their head for every medication, but they should know the most common adverse reactions. some may simply tell you they have no clue. i still think it’s worth asking to force them to consider these mechanisms.

for additional consideration:

your pharmacist likely knows the answers to these questions better than your doctor does. 

an additional list of types of drugs which should be avoided is available here, in the table on the fourth page. (note that propranolol, a beta blocker, is often prescribed for POTS but is discouraged by this paper. as someone whose taken it, it’s worth trying to see if it will improve symptoms, but didn’t for me. Additionally, these are just guidelines, and in those with, for example, both hEDS and POTS, the benefits of opiates for pain relief may be worth the risk of worsening POTS.)

regardless of what the doctor says, I always look up the FDA info sheet before taking a medication. these can be found pretty easily on google (your med + “fda pdf”), and list most of the adverse effects. I’m happy to make a post about reading these info sheets.

there’s a reason prescribing medication is left to those with years of medical training - it’s a complicated and difficult process. but oftentimes those who do this work are so overworked and burnt out, they don’t have the ability to read someone’s entire medical file, or be aware of an adverse event that only affects those with an uncommon condition. I find asking these questions forces my doctors to think about my chronic conditions, and after so many adverse events, I always check a medication for myself before taking it. 

remember that you can and should refuse to take a medication that is making your life worse or harming you. even pediatric patients have the right to refuse a medication, and often times, I’ve found nothing other than a very firm “no, I refuse” will get a doctor to consider other options. and even though its against the norm, remember that you have the right to ask your doctor why they’ve chosen that medication for you.

as always, feel free to ask questions, they make my day!

[bi-writes]

sweet as simon's sugar-mommy <3 (18+) PREVIOUS

you trace a line down the side of his mask. he looks so peaceful when he sleeps, and he sleeps like a rock with you. snores all thick and low. you needed a nap after work, and you just curled up right here on the couch, and he just followed your lead. now it's dinner time, and you're hungry, but you don't want to wake him when he looks so cute.

as your hand falls over his lower stomach, you're reminded he's not so cute everywhere. nope, not cute...but delicious.

you wake him up with soft kisses to his cheek. you tease the band of his sweats, smoothing a palm over his happy little trail, and when he blinks his eyes open and turns his head towards you, you pucker your lips and slide a hand between his thick thighs.

"can i?" you purr, and simon sighs deeply. his blushes always show on his chest, pale skin burning a little pinker, and you giggle when he nudges his nose against yours.

it's heaven with you. you look so cute. bobbing your head, pretty lips wrapped around his cock, suckling on his tip all sloppy and wet. you pay special attention to the underside of him, wrapping your hand around the tip and tugging gently until he spurts hot cum onto your tongue.

it's all worth it when he cups your face to kiss you and you feel the sting of the ring he's wearing, white gold band on his thick finger on his left hand⏤just where it's meant to be.

you sit like that beside him at the dinner table, same smile on your face as you load his plate with veggies (you need more greens, baby) that you did putting his dick into your mouth not even an hour earlier.

he takes you to work now. you hate the manner in which he does, that obnoxious motorcycle that makes way too much noise, but you couldn't help yourself when his birthday came around. you saw the helmet in the boxes when he finally moved in (just until you get back on your feet, yeah?), and you woke him up that morning naked with the keys to the bike between your teeth.

if you fucked him with the helmet on later that day, too, well...no one had to know about that.

he's getting better at receiving your gifts. at first, you had to pretend they weren't gifts. when he came out of the shower, you'd hand him some new clothes, or he'd touch something on the shelf at the shops, and somehow he'd find it in the bags once you got back home. he learned slowly that giving him things was your love language; the shine in your eyes when you saw him using something you gave him made him warm all over.

you're still getting him used to baths, too. your bathroom has a magnificent tub--white porcelain, wide and large, jets, gold detailing. the first time you tried to get him to take a bath, he couldn't find it in himself to sit still like that and relax. he doesn't know how to relax.

your new strategy seems to work, though. you kick off your heels from work. simon's in the living room, his tools laid out on the coffee table. there's a disassembled handgun there, and he's oiling up one of the chambers when you lean over the couch and wrap your arms around his big shoulders. you kiss the side of his mask, watching him, getting a little too distracted watching a thick finger push into the cylinder slowly to clean it.

"hey, hot stuff," you coo in his ear. he grunts, looking away, but you hear the heavy swallow in his throat as he tries to be anything but bashful. "i'm exhausted. gonna get in the bath. wanna join me?"

simon doesn't say anything at first. he's still feeling it out, the relaxing part, but when he turns to look at you, you're unbuttoning your blouse and shimmying out of your work skirt. both fall at your feet, and when you unclasp your bra and toss it, the drop of your tits is enough to have him on his feet and following you into the bathroom.

simon always gets in first. he settles with his back against the far side, and then you get in. you make a show of bending over to sit, and simon snarls a little when he's facing the curve of your ass for just a beat too long. you lean back against his chest, letting the warm water and bubbles cover you both. his arms circle around your middle, and you close your eyes once the water has settled.

"feel nice?" you mumble. simon just shrugs, and you turn over a little until your chin rests on his shoulder. you cup the back of his neck, scratching as his cropped blonde hair with your nails, and he hums a little. your new manicure is simon-approved, it seems, and he leans into your hand as you drag the tips of your nails across his head and soothe him that way. "you deserve it, baby."

it's hard for him to hear it, but you try to say it anyways. there's good days and bad days. some days, it's failed cake recipes and good takeout and hours spent on the couch watching movies. he'll be smiling all day, enjoying the quiet and peace of his new life, and then you'll make love and take a long walk and sleep in the next morning.

other days, the pain in his back seems to hit him tenfold. the spasm in his knee acts up, and he'll falter a little, and he'll look ashamed when he has to take a seat, even if it means sliding down the nearest wall until he's sitting on the floor and cupping under his knee with a hiss. those days, you see a little less of simon riley, and a little more of something else. he looks defeated. you know he must feel useless. his body betrays him, but his mind knows better, and you know it kills him inside because he'll spend the rest of the day quiet and in another headspace.

it doesn't matter how much of himself he is that day. simon deserves it, you know he does. he deserves good food and expensive wine and nice things. he deserves hot baths and hydrating moisturizers and as much chocolate as he can stomach. he deserves messy kisses and more than one orgasm, and if you can give him even a fraction of it, it's money and time and love well-spent. simon has always been dealt the worst hand⏤he's earned this life of luxury.

"my..." simon clears his throat as you sit in his lap at your vanity, draping a cool face mask over his face. you're listening still, just concentrating on smoothing the edges of the face mask over his nose and along his cheeks, massaging the excess product into his neck. "my team is gonna be around next week. goin' to the pub. if..." simon swallows, and you meet his eyes. "if y'd like t'come..."

you smile a little.

"is this...your little task force?" you tease, and simon just purses his lips.

"just...they want t'meet you."

you put your hands on his shoulders, giggling. he looks so cute with the face mask on, and he's even cuter when he's being shy. those eyes are deadly--a killer's eyes, you know this deep down, but simon will never scare you. he's your big, soft teddy bear, and he sleeps in thousand thread-count cotton sheets now.

"you told them about me?"

he gives you that dead stare, but all it does is make you laugh. you scoop out a generous amount of body butter from a container on your vanity and start to massage it into his shoulders.

"you are so adorable, simon," you murmur, watching and feeling as the tension in his shoulders starts to melt under your warm touch. already, your fingers are working the knots out of his neck, and he leans towards you as they touch a particularly tender area. "right there, baby? oh..."

the conversation quiets. you're much too busy concentrating on pampering your sweet lieutenant.

simon's never been nervous seeing his team before, but he's also been out of service for more than a year now.

they have experiences without him now. life or death situations that they've survived together, without him. jokes and hours spent sleeping on dirt floors, places they've seen and people they've met, and simon's been here, sleeping in a king bed and learning about how much better his skin feels now that he uses that hyaluronic acid serum you gave him a few weeks ago.

he's got a ring on his finger now. there's a credit card in his new wallet (no more velcro, baby) that he doesn't pay for, and even his mask looks different now that you insist on daily rotations of them and frequent washes.

he's a pampered fucking prince, and he doesn't know whether they will laugh at him or not be able to recognize him.

which is worse?

they look the same. his captain still looks like a tired bear, and he still wears that awful hat. johnny still has a giggly grin on his face. kyle still is the one to retrieve the drinks so he can try and talk up some bird that he'll definitely take home later.

they still leave the spot closest to the corner with the wall to his back open for him.

"where's the missus?" john asks. he's nursing a warm drink, ice long melted, and simon scratches the back of his neck.

"workin'. she'll be 'ere soon."

you're on the phone when you walk in. hair clipped up out of your face, perfectly manicured hands holding the phone to your ear as you make your way inside. you walk very assertively, expensive purse over your shoulder, and johnny leans back to look you up and down as you finally come into view. you're wearing a perfectly tailored work suit, blazer over your forearm as you talk animatedly.

your eyes light up when you see simon. you wave at him, blowing him a kiss, and simon shuffles in his seat a little.

"bloody hell," kyle mutters, adjusting the collar of his shirt. "tha' her?"

"tha's her."

you get to the table just as a server brings drinks. he sets down the beers for the sergeants, another whiskey for their captain, but you put the phone aside as you pick up the bourbon and take a whiff of it.

"what is this?" you ask.

"bourbon."

you raise a brow. "really?" you laugh a little. "that's bottom shelf, honey. open up a good bottle, and⏤i'm sure he asked for it on the rocks, did you ask for it on the rocks, baby?"

"he did," johnny grins, and you smile at the server.

"and bring it on the rocks."

you tuck a few notes into the server's shirt pocket and look at captain price expectantly.

"you gonna move, captain, so i can sit next to my fiancé, or should i sit in your lap?" you raise a brow. "great to meet you, by the way. i've heard so much about you."

john chuckles, slipping out of the booth, and you hop up onto it after him. you cup simon's masked face and kiss him softly over it, rubbing a thumb under his eye.

"you alright?" you coo, and simon just nods. "you ate dinner, right? it looks like you didn't eat dinner⏤" the server comes back with the bourbon, on ice, and you hold up a finger, "⏤do you have a menu? you know what, it doesn't matter, just bring us some fish and chips. whatever you have."

johnny can't wipe the smile off his face. he nudges kyle with his elbow, looking at him with wiggly eyebrows, and kyle just chuckles.

you pick up simon's bourbon and take a sip of it, humming low.

"finally. some good fucking liquor."

you pass it to him with a wink before turning back to his team.

"alright, what did i miss?" you ask. you put your phone on silent, sticking it back into your purse, and you assume a relaxed place there in the booth, nails scratching along the back of simon's balaclava as you pay attention to the conversation. simon nearly purrs as you scratch him, leaning into your hand as his eyes flutter a little.

you are enchanting. johnny's enamored with the way you pay such attention to simon even when you're enraptured in conversation. you always keep a hand on him somehow, always showing him you're actively thinking about him with your fingers rubbing circles in the back of his hand or smoothing a touch over his head or leaning your cheek against his shoulder. always touching, always soothing him, always checking in even without words.

kyle notices the way simon is so relaxed. his shoulders are low, his eyes are lidded, and he doesn't fidget like he normally does. he's just leaning into you, completely at ease.

john adores the way you take charge. you always have an answer to everything, and you know exactly what you want. from just the drink you order to the way you talk about your new life, there is nothing timid or questioning about how you feel, about yourself or simon.

where you live? you have places in manchester and london, you come back and forth. are you really getting married? you've never been more sure about anything in your entire life. is simon really that pretty under the mask? he'd be in more magazines if he was out of your bed more often, probably.

on the way out, you pay the tab. you slide a heavy credit card over the table, and you don't even look at the receipt, just sign it quick and take simon's hand when you get outside, waiting for your car.

"you're always welcome at our place," you tell them, smiling wide. "got plenty of guest rooms, don't we, simon?"

"plenty," he echoes, and simon opens the car door for you when it pulls up to the curb. "give me a minute, love."

you duck your head and slide inside, and simon turns back to his team, shrugging his shoulders as he looks at them.

"so?"

"mighty fine, LT," johnny grins.

that's all he really needed to hear.

his belly and his heart are equally full when you ride him that night. he's naked on your bed except for his mask, tattooed arm anchored around your waist as you throw it back, pussy squeezing his cock as your thighs meet his all languid and heavy. your mouth is open, hot breaths leaving you as your dig your nails into his shoulders, and he grunts as he feels his balls tighten up every time you gasp his name.

"what would i do without you?" you whine, and simon grips your ass tight with the other hand, shaking his head.

"i should be askin' tha'."

"n-no," you kiss him, tongue wet against his, and he groans into your mouth as you wiggle your hips, until his cock nudges against your cervix, and you can feel him in your stomach. "i need you, simon. i need you⏤"

"bloody fuckin' hell⏤"

"you deserve it," you babble, fisting the sheets beside his head. you move your hips quicker, cupping his cheeks, and the part of his face that you can see flushes pink at your words. "deserve m-more, simon, y-you deserve⏤"

your breath gets knocked out of you when he flips you onto your back. ankles hanging off his shoulders, back bowed, mouth fallen open, you melt right into the sheets as simon fucks you straight into them. he's so heavy, a big weight pushing him even deeper, and the angle has your toes in a tight curl as he throws you over a cliff's edge as his pelvis stimulates your clit just enough, right there, just like that⏤

his cum between your thighs is warm. you bite your lip when you feel his thick fingers cup your pussy, sliding through your folds before he pushes two fingers into you, soft and slow. you whine from the overstimulation, but your hips push into his hand anyway.

"you spoil me," simon mutters in your ear.

"how's that?" you whisper, nudging your nose against his. he props himself up on his elbow, pushing his fingers into you to the last knuckle. your legs shake a little, and your back arches again, pebbled nipples pressing against his taut chest as you give into him.

"olways givin' me wot i want," simon hisses. "olways sayin' yes ta me. keepin' me fat 'n happy...think i don't know wot y'r doin'?"

you giggle, touching his lips. he's fighting a smile, dark eyes trained on your own, and you trace his bottom lip as he pulls his fingers out and swipes an eager tongue over them.

you pinch his hard jaw between a few fingers and bring him closer. when you kiss, he relaxes, and the thought of simon having just another good night's sleep in your big, comfy bed makes your heart clench.

seeing his team tonight made you think, and while it hurts to admit it, you are happy simon will never go back with them. he'll never join them again. he'll always be here, his head on your silk pillow. he'll always be home, eating good food, getting the attention and the care he so desperately needs.

what he's so desperately owed.

simon would've died for king and country, and they don't deserve it. they can't have him.

he's mine.

"thanking you for your service is all, lieutenant."

it's the truth, even if he doesn't want to hear it. he's warranted this kind of life, even if he doesn't believe it, even if he rejects the soft hands and the comfy cushions and the filling food. simon is an abused dog; he's not violent to his core, he isn't a biter or a fighter by nature, but when you are forced into a corner for all your life, it's the only thing you understand⏤it's all you know.

you don't want that kind of life for him. you don't think it was the one meant for him. simon's been looking over his shoulder for his entire life, but it's over now.

it's time for him to lay his head down. it's time for him to rest.

"do you miss it?" you ask. you know he's not asleep; his heartbeat hammers under your ear, and even though it's dark in the room, you know he must be looking at you. you can feel his eyes, even though you can't see them on you.

do you miss them? do you wish you were there and not here? is there a part of you still stuck there, finger on the trigger, mind over matter, life in-between death?

"no."

simon tells you this with ease. his voice doesn't waver. his hand anchors itself to your back, where you know it will stay⏤where you know it will be tonight and even into the morning.

[sirxlla]

The Child You Had Before You Started Dating Him Calls Him Daddy (Batboys)

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

Dick: Dick came into your apartment with flowers in his hand which prompted Jasmin to bolt as soon as she heard the door.

"D- Da- Daddyyy." Jasmin cuddles his leg giggling. Dick laughs as well and sets the flowers down on the table before scooping her up.

"How's my sweet girl? Hmm?" Dick tickles her and she errupts in laughter which makes a smile flood your lips.

"Da- Daddy stop!" She was just squirming and giggling, happier than ever. Her favorite parts of the day were with you and with Dick.

"Okay, I'll stop." He kisses her forehead before setting her down and she runs off to go play with her today.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about that...Some of the teachers at her school started asking about her Dad and she asked them what a dad was...Once it was described to her, she said it was you....or at least thats at least how I was told it happened."

"Oh, Baby. Dont worry about it. It's no big deal and I'm happy Jazzy thinks of me like her father. I love you both and I'm honored she feels that way." He leans down and gives you a kiss on the forehead.

"I brought you flowers by the way, Sweetheart and you look amazing as always."

Jason: Aurora sat in Jason's lap as he played Fortnite watching the tv as Jason controlled the character and racked up kills.

"Kick their butts, Daddy!" She screamed which caused Jason to freeze for a second as he questioned if he heard her right. Jason continued playing the game and won. (ofc he did) You entered the room with two plates of chicken nuggets, Aurora's favorite.

"Mommy! Mommy! Daddy won!" Aurora squealed in her pride over Jason winning.

"Oh, did he?" You and Jason looked both as just confused, you never told her to call him that, she did it on her own.

"Rory he's not your-" You started cause you thought Jason would be upset about it due to the confused look on his face.

"Babygirl, it's fine. If she wants to call me that then I don't mind." Jason stated with a smile.

"Princess, Go wash your hands before dinner, Okay?" Jason asked Aurora.

"Okay, Daddy!" She scrambled out of Jason's lap to the bathroom.

"I guess you're not the only one calling me Daddy now." He smirked.

"Jason!" You laughed as heat filled your cheeks, that was something neither of you really brought up but both seemed to enjoy like a guilty pleasure.

Bruce: "No! I push button!" May yelled at Bruce...She has the gall of men a hundred times larger than her, probably her taking after Bruce as far as you could tell.

"Oh, is that so Little Boss Lady?" Bruce teasingly mocked her, the same stance where her hands were on her hips, she narrowed her eyes and he narrowed his back before sticking out his tongue and making a silly face.

"You're such a Silly Billy, Daddy!" She giggles as she speaks to him, distracted from button pushing.

"Am I?" He smiled as the words came out of his mouth, of course his other kids would call him Dad time to time but knowing May felt so comfortable to do so meant the world to him.

"You wanna push the button? We can do it together?" Bruce asked with a smile and an inquisitive look as if he didnt already know the answer.

"I push button with Daddy?" She asked as she took her thumb out of her mouth.

"Yeah, we push it together." He said as he took the hand she didn't have in her mouth and pushed the button with him.

Tim: Anna had crawled into the bed after a while of her being up, like a little gremlin she jumped up and down.

"Daddy, wake up! Wake up, Daddy! I go back to school! You come me with me and Mommy! I show everyone Daddy!"

Of course he was tired from a night of long crime-fighting, as soon as he was coherent enough to realize what she was asking of him that she wanted to introduce him to everyone as her Dad he quickly got up.

"Go to Mommy, I'm gonna get dressed, Okay? Then we go back to school together, Okay?" He ruffled the little girls hair.

"You match with me?" She asked as she twirled around in her Toy Story tee dress that Tim got her a couple weeks back, he'd get her the moon if she asked.

"Of course, I'll match with you." Tim's closet was full of graphic tees so she could just about wear anything and he could match. He slipped on a shirt that had the little green aliens on it from Toy Story, a pair of jeans and some very well loved Converse.

Tim was quick with it, he grabbed her backpack which happened to be the little green alien as well, no suprise there. That was Anna's favorite which made it Tim's favorite as well. She could convince him to like arson if she did, he was wrapped around her finger.

"Ohhhh! Daddy looks stylish!" She said with a giggle in the same tone and words he'd tell her all the time. He was her Dad through actions but hearing that word from her mouth meant the entire world to him.

"Come on, My Lil Munchkin." He put her on his hip and grabbed your hand as he guided you both to the car so you could get to the school and Anna could introduce him to everyone as her Dad.

Damian: You had started seeing Damian before you even knew you were pregnant, It was a one night stand a few nights before you met him.

He was sweet in the way he went through the whole pregnancy with you, the birth, taking care of little Enzo and everything.

Enzo was now getting old enough to talk and you dont even know who taught him it, it could be Jason playing a prank or Talia doting on the baby she saw as a grandchild, but regardless Enzo was now calling Damian 'Daddy'.

"Da- Da!" He giggled as he looked at Damian from his crib across Damian's office, his little green eyes peered into Damian's.

"I'm not your Dad, Kid." He stated to the child as he filled out paperwork, this work felt monotonous and at least the kid gave him some sort of entertainment.

"Daaaa- Daaaaa." Enzo almost giggled as he could tell he was pissing Damian off, he was a little trouble maker that's for sure.

"I'm not your Dad, You Little Shit." Damain was getting a bit annoyed, not because Enzo was saying it but because he didnt see himself as worthy or prepared enough for a child. Enzo just giggled and called out to Damian again.

"My Son." Damian whispered as he gazed down at his son sleeping in his lap, he might not be his by blood but he was sure his in temper and attitude.

"Fine." He gave in with very little pressure from the very little child. Enzo laughed as he noticed Damian give in and he reached his little arms out to Damian.

Enzo made his black heart swell, Like the Grinch's heart growing a whole size. He walked over to the little boy and picked him up out of his crib. Enzo calmed in Damian's presence, finally feeling safe and calm enough to sleep while Damian did paperwork.

Masterlist

[hairmetal666]

Wayne's used to worrying about Eddie. He should be; he's been doing it since the kid was twelve. First it was Eddie's silence, his permanent frown, the way the bones stood out too prominent on his small wrists. Then it was the kids at school, taunting him and calling him names, the fights and calls from the principal's office. Next came the late nights, the drinking, the dealing, failing his senior year twice. But all of those times, every single one, Wayne had known what to do. Maybe it wasn't perfect, maybe it took a little time, but he'd always figured out exactly what his boy needed.

And now--now Wayne doesn't know if he can help; knows it's not in his power to fix it. 

So, he sits for the second week in a row, watching his nephew--his whole heart--sitting in front of the window, looking out at the forest, nursing the same cup of coffee that he poured six hours ago, and wonders how in the world he can help.

They're cleaning up from dinner, Eddie quiet at his side, when he says, "Gonna need some help with the mugs tomorrow."

After moving to Oregon once Eddie graduated and he retired, he found an affinity for pottery. Never woulda thought it, but he loves it and tourists love his booth at the farmers market.

He can't think of a better way to get his nephew out of the house, but wonders if he doesn't know his boy as well as he thinks after a decade in Los Angeles, that Eddie'll refuse. He just nods, though, goes back to drying the plate in his hands.

And next morning, right at 6:45, Eddie is in the living room in black jeans that are so worn they're nearly grey in places, and the threadbare Metallica tee Wayne thrifted for him nearly a decade back. It's a win. Small, yes--Eddie doesn't even complain once about the country-western station Wayne plays in the truck--but still a step forward.

Wayne wastes no time parking and handing Eddie a box of carefully packed merchandise. He leads the way, trusts that Eddie is right on his heels until he hears Jim Hopper's voice say, "You better keep an eye on those mugs, son. Your uncle will tan your hide."

He turns to see Hopper balancing one end of Eddie's box, Eddie's cheeks flushed pink. "Sorry, I--uh, I've got it now." Hopper lets go and for the briefest instant Eddie's eyes dart to the side and the pink in his cheeks grows deeper.

Wayne tracks the path Eddie's eyes took and finds--he swallows back a chuckle--Steve Harrington just setting one of his Adirondack chairs into place, his t-shirt lifted to show of a stretch of stomach.

Well. Eddie did always like the pretty ones.

They setup the booth in companionable silence, and Hopper pops back over for a proper introduction. Before he departs again, he says to Eddie, "I got some kids who really love that dnd game and your show. They're going to be crazy to meet you. That okay?"

And Eddie, he's a good boy, he smiles and nods but as soon as Hopper is out of earshot, Wayne's saying, "Hop's kids and their friends are big fans and I know you're heartsore about the cancellation, but you better be polite."

Eddie glares. "What do you think, old man, that I'll be mean to children?"

"Well, with how you've been moping around the cabin these last few weeks, hard to know."

He scoffs. "Yeah, well. Netflix putting your hit show on indefinite hiatus without warning or explanation will do that to a guy."

Wayne knows there's nothing he can say to soften this hurt, so he gives Eddie's shoulder a tight squeeze. "I'm proud of you no matter what, son."

His nephew nods, eyes down, but Wayne doesn't miss the small, pleased, lift at the corner of his lips.

The morning passes smoothly and Wayne pretends he doesn't notice every time he finds Eddie's gaze straying to Steve's booth.

The kids come by around noon, Dustin Henderson breaking away from the pack to shriek, "You're Eddie Munson!"

Eddie smiles, stands. "That I am, young adventurer." He bows low, exaggerated and the kids giggle. "Pray tell, what are your names?"

The chatter is fast and easy, Eddie the happiest he's been in weeks, and Wayne relaxes back in his chair, lets out a long, slow breath of relief at the breaking storm. He stretches back in his chair, eyes catching on Steve Harrington across the way. Steve who is watching Eddie and the kids with an expression Wayne can only think of as fond.

Wayne isn't one to play matchmaker, but--he thinks, just maybe, just this once he could nudge.

It happens late in the afternoon, when business has well-slowed, Eddie asking, "Um--that guy over there, who is--what's his deal?"

Wayne thinks he manages to keep all traces of amusement from his face and voice as he answers, "Who? Ohh, Steve Harrington. He's the guidance counselor down at the middle school. Does a bit of carpentry in his free time. Best friends with the woman who owns that little bookstore."

He watches as Eddie processes, as his eyes widen, probably in remembrance of the pride flags and Protect Trans Kids shirts, how the woman in question wore a lesbian flag pin on her apron. "Guidance counselor?" He says eventually. "Kind of a drag."

"You would think, but the kids love him. The ones you met earlier today? He babysat them for years; imprinted on him, Jim and I say."

"Hmm," is the only response he gets, Eddie's attention back on the man in question.

---

The day after the market, Wayne walks into the living room to find Eddie's laptop tucked into the cushions of the window seat. He hasn't seen the thing since Eddie came home, never used to see him without it, and this--well.

He says, "need to run into town for a few things. You up for a trip? You might could stop at that bookstore."

Eddie nods, takes a sip of his coffee--he's actually drinking it-- says, "Yeah. Yeah, I think that'd be cool."

The store isn't busy when they arrive, and Wayne drifts towards the magazines to leave Eddie to his own devices.

Wayne loses himself to quiet browsing, wanting to give Eddie space, to maybe chat with Robin Buckley, strike up the beginnings of a friendship. Enough time passes, though, that Wayne is wondering where his boisterous, noticeable nephew could've disappeared to so silently.

He winds around a shelf and sees Eddie and Steve Harrington in deep conversation. He can't hear it, not really, but they're standing close, with pink in their cheeks. As he watches, Steve says something that makes Eddie laugh and pull a few strands of hair over his mouth.

They're almost inseparable after that. Eddie, Steve, Robin, and all those kids. They play dnd, have movie nights, spend hours at the diner. And Eddie, he's writing, sketching, gets down Wayne's acoustic guitar and plays around for a while.

When he asks how things are with "that Harrington boy," Eddie flushes red and says, "none of your business, old man" before giving Wayne a quick, affectionate squeeze. 

---

Two and a half months after Eddie came to stay, Wayne's walking back from the river, the sky the light navy of new dusk. His fishing rod is draped over one shoulder, tackle box held easily in his fist, the walk home pleasant, a perfect end to a good day.

The light from the front porch seeps through the trees, and he's thinking about a cold beer, a warm pizza, if Eddie's found his way home yet, when figures standing on the porch stop him in his tracks.

It takes a second, longer, for his eyes to adjust from the dark of the woods, and the glow of the bulb, but then he sees--

Eddie and Steve locked in a fierce embrace, desperate and very much private.

He turns right back towards the river, doesn't mind giving the boys some time.

He waits a good half hour, just enjoying the forest, before heading back. Steve's car is gone, the porch vacant, but the cabin is lit up, bright and warm and inviting.

Wayne steps inside, and his nephew is there, laptop open, but he isn't working, just smiling to himself, chin resting on his fist.

"Okay?" Wayne asks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Eddie's smile doesn't fall from his face.

He doesn't want to interfere, ask too much, not when he's sure things are still young. Instead, he asks, "What'd you say to ordering a pizza?"

And Eddie, heedless of Wayne's question, says,"you know. I've been thinking about maybe staying here for a little longer."

And Wayne, his smile grows, and he claps a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "You're welcome here for as long as you want. Already consider it your home anyway."

[bows4tyun]

UNSPOKEN - ! ⸝⸝ 최범규

۶ৎ: beomgyu didn't have the balls to tell you he wanted another baby, he just couldn't. the truth was, he missed seeing you round and pregnant all because of him. he was embarrassed to ask, so he took matters into his own hands.

𓍼 pairing! - tradhusband!beomgyu x wife!reader

𓍼 warnings! - dom!beomgyu, sub!reader, massive breeding kink, beomgyu lies and says he'll pull out, big dick beomgyu, ass smacking, nipple play, groping, punishment, beomgyu referred as sir and gyu by reader, beomgyu calls reader sweetie and baby (and good wife)

# lexi adds! - trad husband gyu is a whole different beast i think that should be a warning itself but yeah I had a lot of fun writing my future life (jk lol) feedback and reblogs are appreciated!! :3 sorry this took a while to finish !!

beomgyu was exhausted. exhausted of the stressful day at work, countless business calls and offensively impolite middle aged men who wanted to invest in the company, it was all too much.

all he wished for was to get back home to his wife and two sons and rest.

he thought of the warm greetings he would get from his family once he arrived home; his two boys running up to him and a loving kiss from his wife alongside dinner.

his drive back home was full of different thoughts. but one of them stuck in his mind for a while.

he loved his sons, that was no lie. but beomgyu thought of having a daughter. thinking of how cute and beautiful she would be, just like her mother. she would be the princess of the family. beomgyu didn't know if you were ready for another baby. your two boys were always causing trouble around the house but maybe having a little girl to look after and protect would calm them down.

beomgyu didn't have the balls to tell you he wanted another baby, he just couldn't. the truth was, he missed seeing you round and pregnant all because of him. the way your breasts would grow full of milk, oh what a beautiful sight to see. he was embarrassed to ask, so he took matters into his own hands.

beomgyu had gotten out of work at 6 pm, maybe his kids would be asleep by the time he got home and it would just be you two, the perfect opportunity to get you pregnant.

when beomgyu got home, it was the opposite of what he was expecting.

the boys ran around as they chased each other around the kitchen and living room, screaming like wild animals while you tried to quiet them down at the same that you finished cooking dinner for beomgyu.

the house was supposed to be well organized, taken care of by you, yet you were struggling to keep the boys in place.

it took them a while to realize that he had entered before they turned and shouted "daddy!" running to him with their arms wide open.

he knelt down to their level and hugged them both tightly, his gaze meeting yours in a looming look. he let them out his grip and they went back to playing loudly just as before.

beomgyu got back up and began walking toward you as you plated his food. after you placed it on the table, his voice spoke sternly, "why aren't those two in bed? it's past their bedtime."

you looked back at the clock on the oven, it was indeed past their bedtime. you had a timid look on your face as you looked into his eyes. "I wasn't paying attention to the time..."

"Did they eat already?" he said.

your voice sounded faint-hearted as the words left your mouth "No, not yet. I'll plate their food right now."

"that's what I like to hear, get to it."

⸝⸝

and just like that, everyone was sitting at the dinner table, eating. this wasn't what beomgyu had in mind. he expected to be all alone with you, have you all to himself as the kids slept peacefully in their room.

"mommy I'm tired..." the youngest spoke after finishing his portion of food, yawning quietly and you could tell his eye lids were beginning to become heavy.

"me too!" the eldest said after, his plate empty as he raised his hand.

"okay then let's get you and your brother to bed, come on you two." you said warmly as they got out of their chairs and followed behind you, you leading them to their bedroom. beomgyu watched, thinking of how good of a mother you were. he could only imagine how you'd be with a baby daughter.

after a few minutes that seemed like forever to beomgyu, you left the room, going back to the dining table as you started to pick up all the cleared plates quietly, beomgyu watching you in action.

"sweetie, you can just clean that in the morning" his voice spoke out to break the silence, his tone calm yet menacing. "you're basically asking me to punish you after all that, aren't you?"

"after what...?" you said, a bemused sound in your voice as you spoke.

He stood up from his seat, standing in front of you with a threatening glare "why weren't you responsible enough to put the boys to bed at their bedtime, hm? you should've been aware of the time."

"I'm sorry gyu-" you're cut off by beomgyu;

"it's sir to you, baby" beomgyu said in a poker-faced manner.

"I'm sorry sir..." your voice was quiet and soft-spoken while your gaze fell to your feet.

"sorry isn't going to cut it. bedroom, now."

⸝⸝

now here you were, in the dimly lit room that you shared with beomgyu, in an all fours position on the king sized bed. beomgyu watched with aberrant eyes at your naked form displayed for him. his hands ran and grazed along the curves on your body, his hand cupping your ass, rubbing against the skin.

"do you need a punishment, baby?" he lightly slapped your ass, implying the kind of punishment he had in mind.

a muffled squeak escapes past your lips, the fear starting to climb against your body, "n-no sir..." your voice was so soft spoken, barely above a whisper as you answered.

"you just love to disobey the rules, don't you baby?" he said, " I won't let that slide this time. you're supposed to be a good wife, obeying the rules I set for you. did you follow them?" he grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging your head back lightly to make eye contact with you.

"n-no sir..." you repeated , your words leaving as a small vulnerable croak, tears swelling at the rim of your eyes.

"what's wrong, hm? is my baby crying already?" he says, cooing you in a teasing fashion, "there's no reason to be crying. do you want me to give you a reason to cry, sweetie?"

you stayed silent for a few seconds, leaving the question unanswered as you sniffled and held back tears. big mistake.

beomgyu's anger was now fueled by your disobedience and he tugged your hair harder, his voice louder and way more threatening before. "why aren't you answering me? you think you're going to run around by your own rule book? well you thought wrong. bad wives get punished."

without hesitation, you receive a hard smack on your ass, causing you to yelp.

"that's all you're going to do? yelp like a stupid baby? count."

another slap to your ass.

"o-one...!" you cry out, the tears officially spilling from the barrier that once held them back, they ran down your face just like a waterfall.

"that's more like it." he said, his words punctuated with an even harder slap against your skin, the contact beginning to paint your ass cheek a bright red hue, "you should always be obedient like this."

another cry left past your lips "two!" your arms weaken and you let your upper half fall against the bed, your ass still up in the air to beomgyu's access.

"is that all you need? do you need more?" he questioned, his taunting voice ringing in your ear.

"n-no sir! no more!" your pathetic cries reach beomgyu's lips, turning them into an unapologetic smirk as he snickered at the sight of your demoralized form.

"no more? is that what you want?" he watched as your head rubbed against the mattress in a nod and he chucked in a villainous way. "you'll get my dick as a punishment too, is that what you want?"

he watched again as you nodded, a wicked look on his face that you couldn't see. "so eager for cock, aren't you baby?"

with no question , his belt was now unbuckled and his dick was now out his pants, his bulbous tip aching to enter your hole. no matter how many times he's had you, you were always so tight, milking his dick like always.

his cock prods against your embarrassingly wet hole, the slick wetting his dick as he stroked himself behind you. "don't expect me to pleasure you, it's a punishment." his voice stern and blunt as he pushed half his tip into your hole, already getting the feeling of the warm embrace he would get once were finally in.

he couldn't wait. quickly, he slammed his hips against yours. the tightness even tighter than he had anticipated. he groaned, struggling a bit just to pull out as you whined. he yanked your head back once more, catching a glimpse of your already fucked out expression. "don't make me mad." he warned, slamming against you again.

his pace speeds up, slamming into you rhythmically as you moaned and whimpered out loud. he threw his hand over your mouth, muffling all the noises that escaped your mouth "fuck, why are you enjoying this? are you asking for another baby? well that's too bad because I'll pull out. "

he was lying, he knew he was lying. the only thing he wanted was to get you pregnant, at least just once more. maybe he'd get lucky enough to get a daughter this time. this time he'd test himself, see how long he'll last before completely bottoming out.

"n-no sir! please ah- don't pull out!" you cries were muffled yet beomgyu could hear you perfectly fine. he uncovered your mouth, still thrusting into like never before. you knew he only ever fucked you like this with the intention of getting you pregnant, it happened two time before.

"well disobedient wives don't get what they ask for, do they? shit..." he cursed under his breath, your walls clamped around him so good, he felt like he was on cloud nine. "don't be too loud, we got two kids sleeping." his groans sounded so sensual, they always did.

beomgyu felt his balls tighten, he knew he was close. he wondered how much longer it would be before he came inside of you. maybe a minute or two? maybe even less. "fuck why does your pussy have to feel so good, baby? it's not even a punishment at this point..." he was right, you were enjoying it more than you were supposed to.

instead of hating it, you were loving it. your moans just grew louder and louder, you even had to shove your face in the fluffled pillows to quiet yourself down.he

it was like a game to beomgyu. he was always trying to challenge himself to see how long he could last. but this time wasn't going to be like the past few times he lasted a good while. no, he was so close so fucking close. but he wouldn't admit that. why would he ever do that when you were being so disobedient yet wanting another baby from him?

with one smack on your ass, you were finished, cumming all over his cock as you squirmed underneath him. despite already being fucked out and so overstimulated, beomgyu kept going. you could tell he was already getting ready to cum. his breath became more jagged and heavy as he groaned louder, his grunts not failing to escape his lips with every thrust he gave.

and when you least expected it, he came inside. his warm sticky milk-like liquid spilling into you and filling you up to the brim. your eyes widened as you moaned out. he kept fucking into you, his hands on your ass as his thrusts slowed down and he was catching his breath. you turn your head and see beomgyu, his head thrown back, his adam's apple visible to the eye as it bobbed up and down with each of his pants.

"would you take getting round and pregnant again as a punishment?" beomgyu asked, his voice breathy from the activity he just endured.

"yes sir..." you nod gently, your voice soft as beomgyu kept his dick buried inside of you.

he leaned down and kissed your shoulder lovingly the opposite of the punishment you had not too long ago.

"that's my good wife, let's clean up and get to bed."

taglist! - @hyunj00 (please lmk if you want to be tagged in any of my future works!)

[archangeldyke-all]

jinx teasing sev and saying that she wouldn’t be able to survive a week without kissing r bc she’s “whipped”

sev takes that to heart and in fact does try to prove jinx wrong, but the second she sees r’s sweet and confused face at her dodging the kiss she breaks and apologizes and promises to make it up to her bc lets be honest sev wouldn’t be able to go even a day without kissing her precious gf

GOD i'm gonna make this roach verse.

i'll give a vague explanation below the cut so people who aren't familiar with that fic and still want to read this blurb can have context

men and minors dni

ok all u need to know is that sevika and reader had a whole enemies to lovers thing when reader got hired as jinx's (age 11ish in this blurb) nanny. they're madly in love now, and sevika has learned to tolerate (love) jinx too.

what sevika doesn't know is that you've been in on it from the start.

jinx was teasing you, about the kisses you're always pressing on sevika's cheeks and the way you're always tucking her loose hairs behind her ears, and you got flustered and blurted "at least i'm not as bad as sevika!"

jinx, of course, cackled and agreed with you, then she asked, "you think you can get her to buy us jericho's tonight?"

you giggled and ruffled her hair. "probably. you wanna have some fun with it though?" you asked.

which is how you're here.

jinx made a bet with sevika that she couldn't last more than a day without kissing you. sevika, of course, took the bait-- desperate to prove jinx wrong without thinking through the consequences.

consequences being, of course, your pout when she dodges your kiss at lunch. (jinx is hiding her giggles behind her hand. sevika is hiding her own pout behind hers.)

you try again when she helps you and lock clear the plates after the gang eats. (jinx tags along, carrying a singular fork as her version of 'helping'-- just to see if sevika fails on her bet) sevika ignores your attempted forehead kiss, making a u-turn and practically running back out into the bar.

and then, you bring out the puppy eyes.

standing just outside of jinx's room while she 'reads her books' you confront sevika. she cringes the moment she sees you, and you just sigh. "sev..."

"baby, c'mere." she sighs, wrapping her arms around you, folding immediately. if you focus, you think you can hear jinx hyperventilating from holding her laughs in her room. "i made this dumbass bet with jinx that i could go the whole day without kissing you, and i didn't get the chance to let you in on it without the brat around." she pouts. you blink up at her, trying to make your eyes as big as possible.

before you can speak, sevika darts down to kiss you. you can't help but giggle against her lips. when she pulls away, you finally sigh.

"i guess that's alright."

"it's not." she kisses you again. "i felt like i was stubbing my toe each time i dodged you." she pecks you once more. you start to giggle. "what can i do to make it up to you?" she asks.

in her room, you hear jinx's muffled "fuck yes!"

you just bat your eyes at sevika. "wanna take me to jericho's for dinner tonight?"

sevika nods. "do we have to bring the brat?"

you chuckle. "duh. it's her favorite, she'd kill us if we went without her."

"fine." sevika sighs, kissing you one last time before turning around and marching away-- off to do whatever job silco's got her on today.

jinx's door flies open, and the girl comes flying out, cackling manically. "we did it!"

"i told you we could." you say, ruffling her bangs. you pull her to your side and start walking the pair of you toward the stairs. "c'mon. dinner's not 'til late and i'm hungry. wanna share some flamers?" you ask. jinx nods, giving you a quick hug before darting off and scrambling down the stairs toward the kitchen.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

[pucksandpower]

Lover

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: the little (and not so little) ways that you and Charles show your love for each other

You’re in the kitchen, phone pressed to your ear as you listen intently to Charles’ mother give you her famous tiramisu recipe step-by-step. “Now, this next part is very important,” she stresses. “You’ll need one cup of granulated sugar to add to the mascarpone filling.”

“Got it, one cup sugar for the filling,” you confirm.

Pascale chuckles warmly. “I’m so glad Charles has found such a lovely girl who wants to learn my recipes. He’s always loved my tiramisu since he was a little boy.”

You smile, touched by her kind words. You and Charles have been together for a year now, but it still makes your heart flutter to be so accepted into his close-knit family.

“It means so much to me that you’re sharing this recipe with me,” you tell Pascale sincerely.

You chat with her a while longer, going over some of the trickier steps and getting tips on how to best soak the ladyfingers. Finally, you have the full recipe memorized and are ready to give it a try.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it now. Thank you so much again, Pascale! I really appreciate you taking the time to walk me through this.”

“Of course, chère! Let me know how it turns out. Charles is a lucky man to have such a thoughtful girlfriend,” Pascale says warmly before hanging up.

You grin, eager to get started. You know tiramisu is Charles’ absolute favorite dessert and you want to surprise him with a homemade version tonight after he finally comes back from his latest race.

Humming to yourself, you gather the ingredients — mascarpone, eggs, espresso, cocoa powder, and of course, the sugar. You double check you have everything and preheat the oven so the ladyfingers will be perfect.

As you start the recipe, you feel a rush of excitement. You follow each step meticulously, Pascale’s voice guiding you in your mind. You carefully separate the eggs and beat the whites to stiff peaks. When it’s time to add the sugar to the mascarpone filling, you pause.

Now, which one was the sugar again? You look between the two identical jars of white powder, second-guessing yourself.

Shoot, you should have labeled them.

After a moment of hesitation, you decide on the bowl on the left. Yes, that must be sugar, you reassure yourself. You mix it into the silky mascarpone filling until it’s perfectly combined. Once assembled, you spread the filling over the ladyfingers and cover it with a final dusting of cocoa powder.

It looks absolutely beautiful. You did it! You made Charles’ favorite dessert completely from scratch. You can’t wait to see the look on his face when he takes the first delicious bite.

You glance at the clock as you clean up. Charles will be home soon. You carefully store the tiramisu in the fridge to chill until after dinner.

Right on time, you hear Charles’ keys in the lock. You hurry to greet him, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “I missed you!”

He grins and nuzzles your neck. “And I missed you, ma belle.”

Over dinner on the balcony, Charles tells you all about the race and his ambitious one-stop strategy under the Suzuka cherry blossoms. You listen attentively, asking questions and laughing at his dramatic reenactments.

Finally, it’s time for dessert. “I have a surprise for you,” you say with a playful smile.

Charles’ eyes light up. “Oh really? Do tell!”

You bring the chilled tiramisu to the table, along with two small plates and forks. “Ta-da! I made your favorite, with your mom’s secret recipe.”

“No way, you’re kidding!” Charles exclaims. He takes in the layered dessert with delight. “It looks incredible, mon cœur. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

You blush happily as you dish out servings for both of you. “I hope I did it justice. Your mom walked me through the whole thing over the phone.”

Charles takes a big eager bite, closing his eyes as he savors it. “Mmm … it’s absolutely delicious,” he declares after swallowing. “Seriously, this is amazing. Here, you have to try it!”

He holds out a forkful toward you. You accept it into your mouth, immediately bursting into incredulous laughter. “Oh my god, this is so salty! I definitely screwed up somewhere. You don’t have to eat it!”

But Charles just grins and takes another hearty bite. “What do you mean? It tastes perfect to me.”

You stare at him in confusion. “You can’t actually like this, Charles. It’s like I poured the entire salt shaker in by accident.”

“No no, it’s great! The best tiramisu I’ve ever had,” he insists. Seeing your disbelief, he takes your hand from across the table. “Really, Y/N. I love it because you made it just for me. With love. That’s what makes it so special.”

You feel your insides turn soft and melty at his words. “You’re just saying that to be nice,” you protest weakly.

He shakes his head. “I’m saying it because it’s true. Because ...” He pauses, looking into your eyes sincerely. “Because I’m completely in love with you, mon amour. I���d eat a thousand salty tiramisus if it made you smile like this.”

You can’t help the joyful laugh that escapes you. “You’re such a hopeless romantic, you know that?” You tease him.

“Only for you,” he flirts back with a playful wink.

You lean across the table to kiss him tenderly. When you pull back, the adoration shining in his green eyes leaves you breathless.

Maybe he’s right. It doesn’t matter that the tiramisu is an utter fail. All that matters is that you made it with love.

And that’s the sweetest taste of all.

***

It’s been a few weeks since your salty tiramisu mishap. You and Charles laughed about it afterwards, but you were still determined to make him something special with your own two hands.

So you decided to take up crocheting. It was trickier than you expected, but you persevered, watching YouTube tutorials and getting tangled in yarn for hours.

Finally, after a month of work, you’ve produced your first wearable creation — a sweater for Charles.

It’s an oversized style, cream colored with red racing stripes across the chest. You did your best to evenly stitch the rows, but there are gaps in some places that cause the stripes to waver drunkenly.

The sleeves are several inches too long, dangling adorably over Charles’ hands when he tries it on. And the neckline gapes open no matter how he tugs it.

But none of the flaws matter to Charles. His face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning when you present it to him.

“You made this? For me?” He asks as he eagerly pulls it on.

You nod, suddenly shy. “I wanted to make something special for you, even if my skills are still .... developing,” you admit with an embarrassed chuckle.

But Charles is beaming, admiring himself in the mirror. “It’s perfect! Seriously, I love it. This is the best gift ever!”

He engulfs you in a big hug, sleeves flopping over you. You hug him back, relieved and happy he appreciates your efforts.

From that day on, Charles insists on wearing the sweater constantly, even styling it with whatever eclectic pants he decides to wear on race weekends.

You try to discourage him — the holes along the hem are getting bigger from snagging and the neckline is truly unsalvageable.

But Charles won’t hear it. “Are you kidding? This is my new lucky charm!” He declares. “I have to wear it for every race now.”

Sure enough, he starts a winning streak whenever he dons your handmade sweater, even though it’s quite a departure from the fitted shirts and designer hoodies he previously favored, leaving his fans scratching their heads at the sudden change.

You watch in amused endearment as he proudly wears your gift for candid pre-race interviews and photo-ops. The overlong sleeves just make his exuberant gestures even more adorable.

Finally, a reporter works up the courage to ask him about the quirky sweater. “That’s quite a statement piece you have been arriving in each Sunday,” the reporter comments during a press conference. “What made you decide to wear it?”

Charles’ face lights up even more. “My sweater? It was handmade for me by my incredible girlfriend,” he announces, making you blush furiously from the audience.

“She worked so hard on it, even though crocheting is totally new to her. So I wear it to show how much I appreciate her and how talented she is,” he continues sincerely.

The reporters “aww” as Charles shows off the uneven stitches like they’re couture. “It’s my good luck charm now too! She put so much love into making it that I feel like I can’t lose whenever I have it on.”

He looks directly at you, eyes shining. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever received, because she made it just for me. I’m the luckiest man in the world to be with someone so thoughtful and caring.”

You have to wipe away joyful tears at his heartfelt words. You never imagined your clumsy crocheting would come to mean so much to him.

But Charles wears that sweater for every race, no matter how tattered it gets. Because for him, it represents something priceless — your love.

***

You hum along to the radio as you stir the melted chocolate in a bowl. The rich aroma fills the air of your shared apartment. Today is Valentine’s Day and you want to surprise your boyfriend with homemade chocolate-covered strawberries when he gets home from training.

You dip the first plump, red strawberry into the silky chocolate, letting the excess drip off before placing it gently onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. One by one, you coat each strawberry, taking care to fully submerge them.

When the tray is full, you quickly pop one glistening strawberry into your mouth and slide the rest into the fridge to let the chocolate harden. As you wait, you tidy up the kitchen, washing the bowls and utensils used to make the treat. A glance at the clock on the microwave tells you Charles will be home soon.

The sound of the front door opening makes you grin. “Mon amour, I’m back!” Charles calls out.

You grab the tray of chocolate-covered strawberries and head towards his voice. “Welcome home! I have a surprise for y-”

You stop short, your throat suddenly feeling scratchy and tight. Your lips tingle oddly.

Confused, you lift a hand to your neck. Is this just excitement to see Charles? But no, your tongue is starting to swell now too. Your breathing becomes labored.

Charles rounds the corner. “Mon ange, what’s wro-” His eyes widen as he takes in your distress. In a few quick strides he is by your side, the tray clattering forgotten to the floor. “What’s happening?”

You wheeze, barely able to force out words. “Can’t … breathe …”

Charles sweeps you into his arms and runs for the front door. “Hospital. Now.”

You cling to him, each ragged breath a struggle. The world seems to blur and tilt alarmingly.

Then somehow you’re in Charles’ car, speeding down the street. One of his hands grips the wheel while the other clutches yours tightly. “Just hold on, stay with me. We’re almost there.”

You try to respond but only manage a choked gurgle. Black spots swim across your vision. A feeling of detachment steals over you.

The car screeches to a stop outside the emergency department entrance. Charles lifts you from the passenger seat, calling for help. There is a flurry of activity as a team of doctors and nurses rushes over with a gurney.

You are barely aware of being wheeled into an exam room, too focused on trying to pull air into your lungs. A mask is fitted over your face, dispensing blessed oxygen. An IV is inserted into your arm.

The medical staff works quickly, asking Charles questions as they begin treatment. Antihistamines. Steroids. Epinephrine. The medications slowly start to counteract your reaction. The vice-like tightness in your chest and throat gradually lessens.

After what feels like an eternity, you are able to take full breaths again. The room comes back into focus, no longer spinning. Charles sits at your bedside, clutching your hand, his handsome face creased with worry.

The doctor examines you, nodding with satisfaction as your symptoms continue to improve. “It appears you had a severe allergic reaction. We’ll run some tests to determine the cause.”

Charles looks stricken. “But how? What could have possibly …” His gaze falls on your swollen lips. “The strawberries,” he whispers.

You nod weakly. It had to have been. You’ve never reacted to them before, but an allergy can develop at any time.

Charles smoothes back your hair, distress pouring off of him. “I’m so sorry, mon cœur. I should have been there with you.”

You squeeze his hand. “You couldn’t have known. I’m okay now thanks to you.”

He just shakes his head, unconvinced.

The testing confirms it — you are now mysteriously allergic to strawberries. The doctor gives you an EpiPen prescription and strict instructions to the fruit in the future.

After several more hours of observation, you are finally discharged from the hospital with an exhausted Charles supporting you.

The sun has long since set on what was supposed to have been a romantic Valentine’s Day. Instead, you spent it swollen and terrified in the ER.

Back home, Charles tucks you into bed, insisting you rest. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror — puffy-faced and red-eyed — and cringe. Some Valentine you turned out to be.

You reach for Charles’ hand again. “I’m so sorry I ruined our evening. I wanted it to be perfect but instead I ended up scaring you half to death and forcing you to rush me to the hospital.”

Charles silences you with a gentle kiss. “Not another word, mon amour. You have nothing to apologize for. All that matters is that you are safe.”

He caresses your cheek, looking at you with such love and tenderness it makes your heart ache. “You could never ruin anything. You are the light of my life — my everything. No Valentine’s Day is complete without you.”

You feel yourself tearing up. Even after the ordeal of this evening, he still looks at you like you hung the moon.

“You’re still the most beautiful Valentine I’ve ever had, you know that? A little swelling can’t hide that.” Charles brushes away your tears and pulls you close. “Rest now. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You nestle into his embrace, letting his warmth and steady heartbeat soothe you. As you drift off, you can’t help but marvel at how lucky you are to have this man. Even at your puffiest and most distressed, he thinks you’re beautiful.

No matter what surprises life throws at you, with Charles by your side you know everything will be okay. He loves you unconditionally — swollen lips, hospital visits, and all.

***

“Close your eyes,” you say to Charles as you lead him into the living room.

He laughs and covers his eyes with his hands. “What are you up to, mon amour?”

You grin, though he cannot see it. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

You guide him across the room, hands on his shoulders. He shuffles along, peeking through his fingers.

“No peeking!” You scold, and he squeezes his eyes shut again, smiling.

You position him in front of the coffee table. “Okay,” you say. “You can open your eyes now.”

Charles drops his hands. On the table sits a large gift-wrapped box with a massive red bow on top. His eyes go wide with surprise and delight.

“For me?”

You nod, bouncing on your toes excitedly. “Happy birthday!”

He pulls you into a tight hug. “You are too good to me, ma belle. Thank you.” Leaning down, he captures your lips in a sweet kiss.

You swat his shoulder playfully. “You don’t even know what it is yet! Open it.”

Charles grins and turns his attention to the present. He carefully unties the bow and lifts the lid on the box. Inside sits a sleek red bomber jacket with the Ferrari logo embroidered on the chest. He runs his fingers over the leather appreciatively.

“This is beautiful,” he murmurs.

“Look on the back,” you prompt.

Charles turns the jacket over. Across the back, in bold white letters, it reads: DADDY.

His eyes go wide again, and for a moment he just stands there gaping at the jacket. Then his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses to the floor in a dead faint.

“Charles!” You rush to his side, kneeling next to him on the plush carpet. Gently you pat his cheek, trying to rouse him. “Charles, wake up!”

After a few tense moments, his eyelashes begin to flutter. You breathe a sigh of relief as he opens his eyes.

“Wha … what happened?” He mumbles.

“You fainted, silly.”

You help him sit up slowly. He puts a hand to his head, still looking dazed.

“I had the strangest dream …” He trails off, glancing around the room. His gaze lands on the jacket lying nearby, and his eyes widen again.

“It wasn’t a dream,” you say softly.

Charles looks at you, lips parted in shock. “Then you … you’re …”

You furrow your brow in confusion. “I’m what?”

“Pregnant!” He exclaims. “We’re having a baby!”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to go wide. “What? No! I’m not pregnant!”

Charles frowns, thoroughly bewildered. “But the jacket said … I thought it was your way of telling me we’re expecting.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Oh my goodness, no. The jacket is for a very different reason.”

He looks almost disappointed. “It is?”

You take his hands in yours. “I know you’ve been talking about getting a dog for months now, ever since you met Mimi.”

Comprehension begins to dawn on Charles’s face. “So the jacket …”

“Is for our new puppy!” You finish excitedly.

Charles’ face lights up. “You got me a dog? Really?”

You nod, grinning. “Really! I picked him up yesterday from the shelter. He’s the cutest little dachshund, white with brown spots. I’ve been keeping him at your brother’s so I could surprise you today.”

Charles whoops and tackles you in another ecstatic hug. You laugh as he covers your face in rapid, smacking kisses.

“This is the best birthday surprise ever!” He crows. “I can’t believe we’re finally getting a dog. And the jacket — it’s perfect!”

He grabs the bomber and shrugs it on over his t-shirt. It fits him flawlessly, the white lettering bold against the red.

Charles scrambles to his feet and rushes to the nearest mirror, twisting this way and that to admire himself. “I love it! Thank you, thank you!”

You stand and wrap your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I’m so glad. But you should really be thanking your new baby boy.”

Charles turns in your arms and cups your face in his hands. “Have I told you lately that you’re the best girlfriend in the world?”

You grin up at him. “Hmm, I don’t recall. Feel free to remind me.”

“You …” He punctuates each word with a kiss. “Are …” kiss “The …” kiss “Most …” kiss “Thoughtful …” kiss “Loving …” kiss “Girlfriend …” kiss “In …” kiss “The …” kiss “World.”

You pretend to swoon. “My, what a sweet talker you are.”

He chuckles and kisses you tenderly. When you break apart, his eyes are shining.

“So when do I get to meet our new baby?” He asks eagerly.

“Right now, if you want,” you say. “We can go pick him up from Lorenzo.”

Charles pumps a fist in the air. “Yes! I’m going to be the best dog dad ever, just you wait and see.” He crouches down and coos, “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”

You pat his head playfully. “You’re a good boy.”

Taking your hand, he practically drags you out the door, babbling excitedly about names, beds, toys, and treats for the puppy the whole way to the car. Your heart swells watching his enthusiasm. You know that dog is going to be the most loved and cared for pup in the world.

When you arrive at his brother’s apartment, Charles bounds up to the front door ahead of you, unable to contain his excitement. Lorenzo opens it laughing, the wiggling brown and white puppy in his arms.

“Someone’s here to see you!” He says, handing the squirming bundle of fluff to Charles.

“Hello, hello!” Charles cuddles the puppy to his chest, his whole face alight with pure joy. The pup responds by licking every inch of Charles’ face he can reach.

Charles laughs delightedly. “Aren’t you just the sweetest boy? Yes you are!”

He looks up at you, eyes shining. “Thank you, mon cœur. This is the best gift I could have asked for.”

You lean in and scratch the puppy behind his silky ears. “Of course. Happy birthday, my love.”

As you walk back to the car, Charles cradling the puppy like a newborn, you know in your heart that your little family is one step closer to completion.

***

The race weekend after Charles’ birthday feels strange. As you wander through the Ferrari garage during free practice, Fred rushes over looking concerned.

“Here, take a seat,” the team principal says, grabbing a folding chair and positioning it behind you. “You should not be on your feet so much in your condition.”

You frown in confusion. “What condition?”

But the French man has already hurried away. Shaking your head, you continue walking. It’s a few minutes later that you spot Pierre.

“Hey!” He says, jogging up to you. Before you can react, he places both hands on your stomach and smiles brightly. “Wow, it’s hard to believe that little baby Leclerc is in there! I can’t wait to meet my niece or nephew.”

Now you’re really bewildered. You take a small step back from Pierre’s wandering hands. “What are you talking about? I’m not pregnant!”

Pierre laughs. “Very funny. You don’t have to hide it from me.” He winks and walks away.

When Charles finds you later, you’re still puzzling over the strange encounter.

“Everyone is acting so weird,” you tell him, explaining what’s been happening all day. "It’s like they all think I’m pregnant or something."

Charles frowns. “That is odd. Where would they get that idea?”

You shake your head. “I have no idea …”

Later, after the last practice session of the day, you wander into Ferrari hospitality for a quick cup of coffee. Carlos quickly spots you and makes a beeline over, cheeks flushed with excitement.

“I just saw the photos of Charles wearing his new jacket.” He says. “A mini Leclerc on the way, how wonderful! Congratulations to you both.”

“What? No, there’s no …” you start to protest, but Carlos is already walking away.

Charles comes up beside you, having overheard. “This is getting out of hand,” he mutters. “We need to clear this up.”

“I know!” You say. “I feel bad, they all seem so excited. They must think we’re hiding a pregnancy from them.”

An idea comes to you then. Turning to Charles, you say loudly, “Honey, why don’t we go introduce the baby to everyone? I know they’re all just dying to meet him!”

Charles catches on immediately, smiling slyly. “Of course! Let’s go get our little one right now.”

You nod, linking your arm through his. As you walk away, you hear gasps and murmurs behind you.

“They already had the baby? When did this happen?”

“I can’t believe they’ve been hiding it all this time!”

You have to stifle a laugh. Charles grins and squeezes your hand.

In his driver’s room, your puppy is napping contentedly on a plush dog bed. Charles scoops him up gently so as not to wake him. Cradling the pup, you both head back out to the hospitality suite.

Everyone turns to look at you eagerly as you enter. Carlos steps forward, craning his neck to see the bundle in Charles’ arms.

“Here he is!” You announce proudly. “Our baby boy!”

Charles turns so they can see the sleeping dachshund nestled against his bomber jacket. A shocked silence falls over the room.

“Wha … that’s not a baby!” Carlos splutters. “That’s a dog!”

You and Charles just shrug with matching sly smiles. “He’s our baby.”

As the puppy yawns and stretches in Charles’ arms, licking his chin affectionately, you know with certainty that your furry new addition will be showered with just as much love and adoration as you both share for one another.

Who could ask for anything more?

[astaroth1357]

I have long wanted to write a headcanon where high demons have lesser forms, so take a walk with me on this:

Imagine that the brothers are fighting with each other and one of them takes a serious hit, like, somebody's left hook got them right in the jaw and it was brutal. They fall to the ground, stone cold, and... just. Poof into a tiny little critter. Like a verison of their familiar. And they can't retake human form until they've rested and healed their wounds.

I'm doing that.

Lucifer becomes this fat-ass, little peacock. He's like one of those rotund Chocobo from the Final Fantasy universe, you just want to pick him up and squeeze him but he's slightly too heavy for that. His feathers are black, save for the tail which have black, red, blue, and green markings. If something makes him "Poof!" then he'll hide away in the Castle because he refuses to let his brothers ever see him in that state. MC can visit him, though, and he'll coo and get all fluffy whenever they pet his tummy.

Mammon turns into a three-eyed raven, but not fat like Luci. He basically becomes a bigger verison of one of his familiars, he's about the size of an eagle. For being the second strongest he gets "Poof!-ed" rather often because he gets caught up in so many fights. Most of the time, he's just a bystander then some stray shot hits him and suddenly he's squawking everybody's ear off! Hilariously, he's arguably smarter in this form so when he's stuck as a bird, his grades actually improve (if anyone can read his actual chicken scratch penmanship).

Levi becomes a snake. Duh. He has similar markings along his back to the colorful scales on his neck in his demon form. He isn't even the length of your average scarf, so MC can drape him behind their neck easily and he doesn't get in the way. He's absolutely MISERABLE like this, though, because he has no hands to play games with. He can get extra clingy to people if he's feeling cold, but MC has to invite him to share their body heat because he's too shy to signal what he wants.

As much as Satan would love to be a cat, he becomes a little unicorn (Sorry, I didn't make the lore). He's about the size of one of those miniature horses, but don't be fooled. He will snap your kneecaps and he's at perfect height to rear-kick his brothers right in the crotch. His coat is black but his tail, mane, and the underside of his horn are all his signature green. If he every gets "Poof!-ed!" he's big mad, so he'll spend the entire time trying to kick and spear his brothers so they have to suffer along with him. He's the cause of a lot of chain "Poof!-ings."

Asmo becomes the smallest, cutest scorpion you ever did see. Well, as cute as scorpions can be. His whole body becomes hot pink and he has the biggest widdle eyes (think those jumping spiders who wear raindrops on their heads type energy). He's also venomous as all hell, so his brothers HAVE to make sure that they continously call him "small, cute, and adorable" lest they suffer a week's worth of paralytic toxin. He can fit the palm of a hand and makes MC tie a little bow around his tail so he doesn't feel too bad about being under-dressed.

Beel, unfortunately, becomes a fly. A big fly (by fly standards), but a fly nonetheless. You wouldn't even know that it's him if he weren't traffic cone orange. Literally everyone panics when he gets "Poof!-ed" because it would only take some bozo with a swatter to put an end to the sweetest brother... Belphie never lets Beel out of his sight and even has a tiny leash so he can keep track of him if they have to go out. He's a lot easier to feed like this, but everyone has to resist that automatic urge to smack him away from their dinner plates.

Belphie ironically has the largest lesser form out of his brothers. He's a cow, more specifically a bull, but there's nothing special about him aside from the navy fur. He is a full grown bull and he loves to lord it over the others if they all get "Poof-ed!" at once. Also, good luck getting him to do ANYTHING in this form. He is a bull. If he does not want to move, he will not be moving. Not even Beel can carry him like this. He's the only brother who doesn't mind getting "Poof-ed!" all that much because of it.

[xxknockoutxx]

Izuku

(this is just something to put out for fun but I take heavy inspiration from Glitched they're freaking amazing! I hope they are doing well ❤️‍🩹🥦)

It was another day of sitting at home without a care in the world. Waiting for your husband to come home, this was the one day where you weren't working or out doing chores. The giant house that you and your pro hero husband inhabited was so intimidatingly big, that seeing the house so quiet and empty kinda scared you but in a good way. Like a really secured way.

It wasn't all that lonely I suppose with your husband texting you every once and in a while with memes or compliments or how much he misses you. He's gotten the hang of One for All and is the number 1 hero. All this sounds pretty good for you guys but it's not...

The stronger your hunk of a husband gets, the longer he'll be working and that means less time for you too. This was probably the 3rd day he'd been vacant from the house this week so you were tired of it. I mean who wouldn't be?

I'm just gonna have to make him forget work when he comes back. you thought. Sure it was a lot easier said than done but you are Y/-fuckin-N! Ain't nobody or nothing gonna stop you from getting what you want✨

*Bzzz* Your phone buzzes and you find out it's your husband.

🥦My hero🥦: Hey baby I got some good news! 😁

I'll be home either tonight or next morning! I can't wait to see my precious little Bunny💚

Your heart swelled as you read the text you eagerly texted him back showing your excitement before going back to brainstorming. Shit.... Now you're on a time limit. With little time you began thinking about a dinner; one with a huge table full of different foods and of course dessert but will that be enough for your busy husband to stay home?

Annoyed and stressed, you just focus on that one thing, preparing food. You walked into the kitchen and searched the full fridge for things to cook. thankfully you had the ingredients to try some viral recipe you saw on Pinterest.

After cooking and laying everything out on the table you decided to change into something more anticipating you changed into some tiny pajamas and black lingerie under it. Surely it would do something to him to see those thin, black and green panties.

"Bun! I'm home!" Your heart froze up before running to the front door and hugging and kissing the breath out of Izuku.

"baby! Hiii" "Hey bun... You look so....- He takes in the way that the shirt you were wearing hugs your curves. The way that it just barely shows the outline of your hardening nipples. —Good..."

"I made you a little sumthin-" You help him put his stuff down and drag him towards the kitchen. This food is gonna be so fucking good that he's gonna eat this and then eat me- wait.

As Izuku takes a seat and looks in awe at all the food on the table. After working 22 hour shifts for 3 days straight you get kinda hungry. He waited for you to be seated as you walked to the table with his plate of healthy servings.

"thank you so much, Bunny. I love you."

You smile and join him at the table, in your rightful chair or throne rather; Izuku's lap.

He begins to chow down on all of his food rather quickly, while spouting his compliments about you and the food. "Wow this is so good, Bun" and "You look so pretty today" and "Did you get all dolled up for me?"

At the end of the meal you carefully bring him upstairs and take off his hero gear. Making sure to be slow and to add a sway to your movements. At this point Izuku's eyes were lidded and he still had that same smile of adoration but it seemed almost suspecting.

You pushed him back on the bed and slowly took off the pajamas. (Deku merch obviously) Under it you had your dark green and black lingerie.

"wow.. you were ready for me, weren't you bun?"

He cups your cheek and pulls you onto his lap. You feel his warm, calloused hand touch your face as a familiar sensation of Izuku's bulge rubbing against your sweet spot.

You lean in for a kiss and start playing with the zipper on his hero suit pants. As you do he slips a hand on your waist and deepens the kiss while helping you loosen his pants and takes off his suit.

"lemme help you with that bun..."

✩.･*:｡≻─────────── ⋆♡⋆ ───────────.•*:｡✩

"F-fuck! Wait! Izu...." Of course after working for so long and so hard your husband is gonna be a little pent up. Not being able to come home to see his pretty, loyal wife. The only way to solve that? A fucking mating press. Nothing can compare to the satisfaction of a good fucking. Especially passionate, rough and deep sex.

I mean if you aren't screaming his name at the end is it even considered a good fucking? Clearly he isn't putting in enough effort if you give him a reaction that's anything less than a moan of his name, unintelligible mumbles, or praises. So he'll go for a couple hours. Maybe he'll be satisfied after a few positions, some breeding, and marking. Just to make sure you know you're his.

And right after he would take a shower with you cuddle with you and make sure you were at 100 percent and then only then would he go to sleep with you in his arms. An unbreakable grasp.

Then he'll do the same thing next week.

⏤͟͟͞͞☆𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐱.

[babysukiii]

the rooms are all on fire (every time that you walk in)

// melissa has a thing for her new neighbor, but she refuses to let it go too far because of the age difference. though, the redhead might realize how deep her feelings go once it’s too late. //

warnings: insecure!melissa, reader is so painfully in love with melissa it’s hilarious, melissa is an idiot who can’t handle emotions, pining, mutual pining, jealous!reader, jealous!melissa, brief gary x melissa (they go on one date), reader is in her twenties.

melissa knows right away that she doesn’t like you. you’re too young, too loud, too perky, too nice. you had moved in across the hall from her a couple months ago, and had knocked on her door the same day you moved in. you had this big smile on your face, along with this large tupperware of brownies. though, in your defense it had not been a good day for melissa. her ex husband had just revealed he had an affair while they were still married, and even though she no longer loved joe, it still hurt.

“who the hell are you?” she asks, as soon as she swings the door open. your smile doesn’t even falter, and it’s the most annoying thing melissa has ever seen. “i’m y/n! i just moved into the apartment across the hall. i just wanted to introduce myself and give you these.” your western accent indicated you were far from home, and the positive energy radiating off of you only seemed to put melissa in a worse mood than she already was. you hand her the tupperware of brownies, and she scowls.

“we don’t really introduce ourselves to neighbors ‘round here. your lucky you didn’t knock on 402’s door. he’s a creep.” she mutters as she takes the tub of sweets. “oh. thanks for the warning.” you joke, and you tilt your head to side, “i never got your name.” you add and she snorts. “cause i never gave it, kid.” she responds curtly before shutting the door right in your face.

that was your first impression of melissa. it was enough to make any sane person steer clear of her… but you weren’t necessarily a sane woman. you were usually up before eleven every morning to go on a run or do a small workout. one morning you wake up extra early, and catch the redhead in the elevator. you don’t appear to notice the way her eyes roam up your tight leggings, and small zipped up sweater that clung to your body. “good morning, neighbor.” you greet her, and she keeps this stone cold expression etched onto her features.

“morning.” she flatly responds, clearly uninterested. “did you like the brownies?” you inquire curiously, as the elevator door closes behind you. “i’m not a fan of chocolate. i prefer pumpkin or apple.” she bluntly replies, and you don’t let her attitude discourage you. in fact, you visibly pep up at the newly found information. “i love pumpkin cinnamon rolls. next time i make some, i’ll bring some over for you.” you say, as the elevator door opens. “i’ll see ya around, neighbor! have a good day.” you call out as you rush towards the exit of the building. melissa rolls her eyes as the elevator doors close, and she continues her way to the parking garage.

your perkiness in the mornings was something melissa couldn’t adjust to. she didn’t want to. as soon as you realized the redhead was in the elevator every morning at 7:20, you were there as well. it was borderline obsessive in the redheads opinion, and she couldn’t stand that dopey grin on your face whenever you’d see her. it was like clockwork. she’d get in the elevator, click on the floor for the parking garage, and you’d squeeze in before the doors closed. she was beginning to consider taking the stairs.

she wasn’t sure how you knew when she was home, but on friday evening, she was in the middle of making dinner when a knock on the door caused her to knock over an open bottle of water. “shit! fuck— i’m comin’!” she yells out frustratedly as she makes her way to the front door. when she opens it, there you are with that stupid smile on your face. this time you’re holding a plate with a large slice of sweet bread on it, with icing slathered on top. it was saran wrapped cutely on the white plate.

“pumpkin cinnamon bread, with cream cheese icing.” your voice is light, and you’re gazing up at her with these big innocent eyes; just begging for her approval. there’s hopefulness laced into your orbs, and not even melissa has the heart to turn this away. “pumpkin in april… thanks kid.” she mutters, and if she thought your smile was big before… it seems to illuminate with her backhanded compliment. maybe it was the fact that one of her favorite students made her a painting in art class, and she was feeling particularly mushy today.

“you like pasta?” she asks you blandly, still sounding indifferent about your sudden intrusion on her dinner making. you nod eagerly, “yup! i haven’t had it in ages though… i don’t know any good italian spots around here, and i can’t cook to save my life.” you confess sheepishly, and she nods as she turns around and disappears into the apartment. she leaves her door wide open, and you stand there, clearly confused. “well, what ‘re you waiting for? come in, dinners almost ready.” she commands, causing your eyes to widen in shock.

“unless you got somewhere else to be tonight?” she asks, looking over her shoulder to see how shocked you look. you shake your head quickly, “nope! it was just gonna be me and the takeout guy tonight.” you half joke, as you walk in, shutting the door behind you. you go quiet as you stand behind the counter, and melissa wipes up the water she had spilled earlier. she turns her head to see you glancing around the room, clearly nervous. it’s the quietest she’s ever heard you. “what? place not what you expected?” she asks, and your eyes lock with hers.

“i just… i didn’t think i’d get to see the inside of your place before i got to know your name.” you admit, and melissa can feel an uncontrollable smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “my names melissa.” she confesses, and your eyes go all soft at the revelation. “melissa… huh. that’s a pretty name. it suits you.” you blurt aloud, and she turns away to check on the pasta, hiding the blush that coats her cheeks.

melissa learns quite a bit about you after that. you’re twenty-four, you had lived in the west coast all your life, and you spent your teenage years stuck taking care of your grandma and siblings. the more melissa discovers about you, the harder it is for her to hate you. your kindness isn’t fake or falsified like most of the people around here; you speak every word with genuineness and sincerity. a routine seems to progress between the two of you; every friday evening you knock on her door with some new platter of sweets, and melissa proceeds to invite you in for dinner.

every friday turns into every other day, and before she knows it, you two are having dinner together every night. the redhead went from hating you, to enjoying your presence more than anyone else’s. at first, melissa assumed she simply enjoyed your company because she was lonely. but after a few months of you, she quickly realized what the little flutter in her belly meant whenever she’d see you. melissa’s head would grow fuzzy whenever you complimented her, and she turned into a blushing mess. not to mention how she couldn’t necessarily hide how happy she was to see you now.

she’d pick out a bottle of wine, and makes different recipes she thinks you’d like. she finds herself humming along to old italian songs as she cooks, waiting for the gentle knocks on her door.

tonight you brought her new york cheesecake with raspberry filling on top. you greet her as you push past her, placing the cake onto her counter. “i know, cheesecake is so bad for our health, but i had a terrible day.” you tell her, and you begin to ramble about how awful your boss is. though, all melissa can do is take in how absolutely beautiful you are. the way your hair falls, and moves as you talk with the emotions you wear on your face. when you don’t get a response from melissa for awhile, you look over and see her leaning against the door, staring at you with a peculiar expression.

“what? what’s wrong?” you question, she offers you a gentle shake of her head. “you’re really beautiful, you know that?” she blurts out, her entire demeanor changing as soon as she realizes what she just said. her eyes go wide as she stands up straight, instead of looking appalled or surprised, the blood rises to your face. a shy grin plasters itself onto your face, as you push your hair behind your ears before gazing at her like some shy schoolgirl. “you’re calling me beautiful? have you seen yourself?” you ask her, and that’s the moment that seems to solidify it for melissa.

the way her heartbeat picks up as the words leave your lips, and something in the pit of her stomach bursts, as if a million cocoons hatched into butterflies inside of her. she began to feel something she hasn’t felt since before she married joe. she couldn’t believe some western twenty something year old kid was making her feel this way.

you appear to be able to read melissa like an open book. she doesn’t have to tell you how she’s feeling for you to know. you’re the only person who’s ever been able to figure her out, and it’s scary. melissa also wasn’t an idiot. she could tell judging by the gleam of adoration in your eyes, you were growing quite the crush on her. sometimes she wonders why. you’re in your twenties, you’re hot, and you know how to bake a mean banana cream pie… melissa also sees how the doorman and a variety of other men ogle you in the mornings. you could have anyone you want, yet you spend your evenings eating melissa’s various italian recipes.

however, the redhead is very closed off. especially romantically. after joe, she’s dated around but nobody’s ever gotten a second date. she hasn’t been so intimate with someone in so long, even before her divorce, the marriage was falling apart. dinner every night was not an option for her and joe; he always came home late, and by the time he arrived his plate of leftovers were in the microwave. even when he’d be home while she was cooking, he’d eat in the living room in front of the tv. you were so enthralled by melissa, sometimes you could hardly focus on the food with how much attention you paid her.

she tries to hide the way she revels in your attention, and how the glimmer in your eyes directed towards her causes those stupid butterflies inside of her to repopulate. “you do not actually have random baseball bats around your apartment…” you trail off one evening, as you’re both sitting on melissa’s comfortable couch. there’s a glass of wine in each of your hands; you’re both on your second glass, and you’re sure it’s the expensive wine melissa keeps locked away. it makes you feel special when she puts so much thought into the dinners you two share. they mean something to you, and you’re positive they mean something to her as well.

“i do. they’re hidden around.” she explains, taking a sip of her wine. you let out a genuine giggle; your wide eyed gaze is pouring right into her, nobody’s ever looked at her with such reverence. something then flickers in her eyes as she remembers something; “speaking of… i’ve been meaning to give you one. ya look like you can’t swing for shit, but it’s better than ya having nothing to defend yourself with.” melissa rambles as she stands up, disappearing into her bedroom. your brows knit together in slight confusion as you wait for her to return.

when she does, she has a medium sized wooden bat. it was dark wood and looked brand new. “wait, you were serious?” you ask, letting out a breathless little chuckle. “you live on a questionable part of town, by yourself, y/n. you barely even forget to lock your door when you come over.” she scolds, sounding undoubtedly upset by the fact. your baffled features quickly morph into a soft expression, “you worried about me, lissa?” you tauntingly ask, and she lets out this vexed huff, waving the wooden bat closer to you.

“just take the damn thing and keep it by your bed.” she commands, while you gladly accept the strange but thoughtful gift. “it’ll make you feel safer.” she adds, her neck burning as you stare at her with a vulnerable look on your face. “okay. but i’ll have you know i’ve never felt safer than knowing my tough, kick ass neighbor is right across the hall.” you assure her, and something inside of melissa is slipping; whether it’s her resolve or the walls she so desperately tries to keep up. “thanks for worrying about me though. i worry about you too.” you clarify, and melissa would normally scoff at a comment like that.

she’d shake her head and demand for you to know she can take care of herself… but she can’t. as you stare into her eyes with the sole intent of wanting her to understand how much she means to you, melissa finds herself taking a seat beside you again, deciding to let the comment slide. maybe she enjoyed knowing someone as sweet as you cared about her. it’s been so long since anyone’s cared for her in this way; it was sort of foreign to her by now. yet it was also comforting.

though melissa often found herself thinking about what things would be like when you finally met somebody. if you’d opt to spending your evenings with your new girlfriend or boyfriend… if you’d look at them with the same gaze you’d look at her with. some evenings she’d catch herself staring at you, and she’d think of being in the shoes of some younger woman… someone who can give you the start at life that you need. you’re in your early twenties, and there’s no way you’d ever want someone old and used up like melissa.

so naturally, the night you invite melissa to your place for dinner instead of just heading to hers… she feels an odd bundle of nerves knotting up in her stomach. she changes after work; which is something she never does. she puts on that sundress she likes to wear when she’s feeling good about herself. as soon as you open the door, your eyes nearly bug out of your head. you have a grease stain on your cheek, she assumes it’s some kind of cooking oil. the apron you’re wearing is hiding the tight top and jeans you’re wearing underneath, but melissa thinks you’ve never looked more cute.

“you’re early! i— i’m still making dinner, please sit down.” you urge her, and melissa offers you that soft smile that seems to only be reserved for you these days. she looks around your place; taking in the pictures on the walls, and the flatscreen that’s too big in melissa’s opinion. she barely watches tv, and when she does it’s in bed on her phone. “yeah, i left a little early because ava hired some of the teachers some new assistants.” she tells you, and you cock a brow, flashing her an amused grin. “an assistant? how do you like that?” you question curiously, knowing how difficult it was for the redhead to warm up to new people.

she snorts, “the kids fine. she’s a little younger than you. can’t understand a word she says but the kids like her.” she murmurs, shrugging, before she looks over at you. you’re stirring whatever’s in the pot, and she quirks a brow. “you actually might like her.” melissa’s comment rolls off your back easily, you don’t seem to notice the difference in her tone. you laugh lightly, “i doubt that. i’ve never gotten along with girls that well. guys either.” you confess, and melissa snorts. “oh yeah, sure, the girl who makes conversation with the mailman doesn’t have any friends. who do you think you’re lying to here, kid?” she questions, and you frown, rolling your eyes. “i’m not a kid. and just because i know how to make conversation with people, doesn’t mean i have a lot of friends.” your voice is light, and lacks any sort of defense or malice.

melissa sort of envies how easy it is for you to talk about things. “i mean, even in high school i had like three friends. they all still live back home, and we talk from time to time but it’s not like we can just hang out every weekend, you know?” you begin to ramble as you stir the searing food in the pan. “you’re the only person who i hang out with, and i’m lucky you even wanna hang out with me.” you add half jokingly, and you turn to see an inscrutable expression etched onto the older woman’s face.

“anyone would wanna hang out with you… i mean one day you’re gonna find someone who can’t stay away from you.” melissa says in an abnormally gentle way, there’s a hint of sadness in her voice and you cock a brow at the redhead. “does it count if i’ve already found someone i can’t stay away from? i’m literally making beef stroganoff for her, and i almost burned down the kitchen twice just to impress her.” you admit, and on cue whatever is in the pan begins smoking.

melissa’s eyes widen as a blush coats her beautiful face. she rushes over to your side, “jesus, y/n! why didn’t you tell me you wanted beef stroganoff? i could make this in my sleep!” she begins to shoo you away, and you frown, shaking your head stubbornly. “because you always make dinner; i wanted to cook for you.” your fervent voice causes melissa’s heart to lurch in her chest. “i don’t just cook for just anybody, yanno’? i cook for you because i like ya, and don’t know how else to show it. i’m not all sweet like you.” she clarifies, and your heartbeat quickens as her words sink in.

she’s trying her hardest to avoid your eyes, and you can’t help the uncontrollable blush on your cheeks. “you like me?” you ask her, and she rolls her eyes. “like it wasn’t obvious when i cooked mac n cheese as a main dish. seriously, kid, your taste buds are strange.” she mutters, and you bite your lip, trying to contain the grin on your face. “yeah, well, as strange as my palette is, you like me.” you taunt her, and notice the way her focused stirring falters ever so slightly. she scoffs, forcing an exasperated expression on her face.

“don’t make me take it back.” she murmurs, and you can’t seem to stop grinning at her like an idiot.

the seasons change and so do things between you and melissa. it isn’t a significant enough change for you to mention it, but it is enough for you to feel the difference. melissa is so soft, and carefree around you now. before she was so tough and prickly; she’s still a bit prickly but you don’t mind getting poked in order to see her true self every now and then. you two appear to be doing this slow dance around the obvious feelings you have for one another.

melissa is way more reluctant than you are. she hates the way her mind works, but it’s not like she can control it. usually how cute and thoughtful you are washes away any doubts she has about herself, except for one day she runs out parsley, and has to run to the store. of course you offer to come along with her, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater and excitedly trotting by her side.

“you sure you don’t need anything else from here? you’re running out of juice.” you remind her and she mentally scolds herself. “you’re right! thanks hun.” she sweetly thanks you, making your face hot as she reaches for the orange juice. you both make your way to the checkout line, and you aimlessly look around at the chocolates. “y/n! hey!” a familiar voice causes you and melissa to turn around. you eyebrows rises slightly as you run into a woman who you went on a few dates with when you first moved here.

“tracy! hey!” you greet her, and she hugs you before you can even think. melissa is watching the interaction like a hawk, and as soon as the raven haired girl hugs you, there’s a burning sensation of pure rage deep rooted in her belly. her eyes narrow as “tracy” pulls away from you, and looks at you as if she wants to ravish you in the supermarket. “you never called me again! i had a lot of fun mini-golfing with you.” she says, and you sheepishly rub the back of your neck, clearly racking your brain for a flimsy excuse.

that’s when realization hits melissa; you dated this woman! the thought alone nearly makes her scoff. this was your type? mid-twenties, soft skin, hippie wannabe? “i just got really busy adjusting to living here and all that… but how are you?” you try to steer the subject away from the awkward final date you hated. it wasn’t fun for you; you had to force yourself to be some cool girl you clearly weren’t. “i’m good! how are you? what are you up to tonight?” she asks hopefully, and you smile.

“i’m good as well. this is melissa, we’re here picking up some parsley for dinner tonight.” you introduce the redhead, and tracy’s demeanor immediately shifts as she assumes the older woman is your girlfriend. “oh. hi, i’m tracy.” she introduces herself to the grade school teacher, holding out her hand for the second grade teacher to shake. melissa only nods curtly in in tracy’s direction, “hey.” she flatly responds. and you notice the tension in the air right away. “well, it was nice seeing you again, tracy.” you say suggestively, and tracy nods.

“yeah, you too. you should call me sometime.” she squeezes your arm before she leaves, and melissa looks as though she wants to murder you with her eyes. “next.” the checkout clerk calls out, snapping the redhead out of her thoughts. she places the orange juice and parsley down much harder than she intended; it even causes the middle-aged man to jump slightly. “rough day?” he questions with a goofy grin, trying to lighten the mood. melissa shoots daggers at him with her eyes, causing his smile to fall as he clears his throat.

he scans the items quickly, “that’ll be $8.97.” he states; not a single slick remark left in him. melissa inserts her card, finishing the transaction without another word. she storms out of the supermarket with you in tow, trying to catch up to her as you follow her to her car. when you’re both strapped in, the car starts and the ride is quiet for the first minute and a half. you hate awkward silences, especially with her. “i honestly forgot i even tried dating when i first moved here.” you pipe up.

“well maybe now you can give her a call, since you’re no longer busy and adjusting.” she mocks your lame excuse from a few minutes ago, and you frown. “i didn’t— the reason i didn’t call her back wasn’t because i was adjusting—“ you try to explain yourself, but melissa cuts you off. “you don’t have to explain yourself to me. we’re friends, i don’t care who you go on lousy dates with.” her voice is harsh, and it’s a tone you recognize all too well. it’s the same one she uses when she used to have her walls up high, refusing to let you get even a glimpse into her mind.

she doesn’t allow you to tell her it was solely because you didn’t want to call tracy again. the dates were terrible; the entire time you were just pretending to be someone you’re not. you only forced yourself to go because you had been living here for a month, and hadn’t made a single friend. melissa stubbornly cooks dinner, and the conversation through the night is short. you aren’t used to it, and it hurts. but you convince yourself tomorrow she’ll be ready to talk about it.

but the next morning, melissa must’ve left for work earlier than usual because you don’t see her in the elevator. you text her to have a good day, but never get a response. throughout the day you can’t help but think about her, and you wonder why she became so closed off after finding out about your meaningless dates with tracy. you understood she might’ve been a little jealous; sometimes you got jealous whenever she spoke about joe. but she seemed so genuinely upset, all you wanted to do was figure out what was going through her head.

you decide to make her some pumpkin carrot cake before heading to her apartment for dinner. it’s nearly six when you’re finished, and you place it in a tupperware nicely for her. you’re practicing in your head what you want to say to her tonight, and how you should assess the situation. by the time you knock on her door you have a simple smile on your face, and the door swings open, the sight nearly causing your eyes to bug out of their sockets.

melissa was wearing a tight black dress that hugged her body perfectly, and enhanced every single curve. the exposed cleavage caused you to force your eyes on hers in order not to sneak a longer peak. your hopeful smile falls a bit when you notice the hard expression on her face. before she can even ask you anything, you begin blabbering like you usually do. “look, i know you said we’re just friends, but there’s more to us than just that… we both know it. we may not have ever talked about it or what it means, but i haven’t dated anyone since this started…” you ramble, and melissa’s eyes soften for a split second, her hard facade slipping as a wave of panic washes over her.

“y/n—“ she tries, but the voice behind her is interrupting, causing your heart to fall right into your stomach. “everything okay, red?” a deep, unfamiliar voice asks, causing you to freeze. melissa suddenly has this unrecognizable expression of regret on her face. “y-yeah everything’s fine, gar.” she says back, “gary? as in the vending machine guy who’s been flirting with you all year, gary?” you ask in disbelief, and a slight bit of anger is mixed into your voice. she had been so upset about you going on a few dates with tracy before you two were even friends, and now she was here having a romantic dinner with gary. you could even smell the type of food she made him.

“he’s been asking me all year, and i decided since it’s been awhile since i’ve been on a date, i should get back out there.” melissa says the words she’s practiced saying to you in her head. she knew you’d come over today, you always do. she knew you’d see her with gary, and maybe she wanted that. she wanted you to feel how she felt when she saw you and tracy. though as you stare up at her with this kicked puppy-dog expression, she knows you aren’t feeling what she was feeling yesterday. you’re just straight up hurt and it’s written all over your face.

you glance down at the stupid dessert you spent all afternoon perfecting. “well, this is for you, because i wanted to apologize for upsetting you. i can see now you weren’t upset at all.” you have to force yourself to speak, and you surprisingly hold it together as you shove the tupperware in melissa’s hands. you turn to walk back into your apartment, and a wave of regret flashes over the redhead. melissa reaches out for you, “y/n, wait—“ a firm but soft hand wraps around your wrist, but you pull it away from her as you spin around and flash her a dejected look. the sight breaks her heart in two.

“it’s fine. you were right; we’re friends. you don’t have to explain yourself to me. i don’t care who you go on dates with.” you throw the words back in her face, and there’s a flicker of emotions on her face but you turn away and disappear into your apartment. melissa stands there staring at your door; she looks down at the cake in her hands and she hates how tight her chest gets. it’s like her heart might pop in her chest. she doesn’t feel the way she thought she would, and suddenly she mentally curses herself for thinking it’d feel good to hurt you.

melissa is off her game at work the next day. she texts you, and for the first time since you two became friends, you’re the one who doesn’t reply. the redhead realizes she made a mistake. instead of talking about her insecurities or how hurt she was when she saw you and tracy, she ended up jumping the gun and going out with the safest option. gary.

in truth she did like gary; maybe not enough to want to date him, but she found him moderately attractive. she also thought he was pretty funny, and he appears to like her a lot. though none of that was anything compared to what she felt for you. melissa could not stop thinking about you and that hurt face of yours all day. she even decides to cook your favorite food for dinner.

but when six-thirty rolls around, and you still haven’t knocked on her door, there’s a sinking sensation in her stomach. melissa huffs as she looks at the dinner she prepared, and thought of it going to waste angered her. or maybe it was the thought of you just standing her up, even though it’s not like she personally invited you tonight. maybe you think she’s with gary again.

usually melissa is very stubborn, and she would never consider going across the hall and begging you… but she can’t get you out of her damn head. so she takes her ass straight to your door, not even bothering to close hers. she knocks on your door vigorously, not stopping once until the door swings open to reveal you. your hair is damp, and you’re in an old oversized tee shirt; the printing was faded but the hem reached just below your thighs. melissa had to refrain herself from gazing down at your smooth legs.

“i cooked dinner and you’re ready for bed, what gives?” she questions, hating how she sounds like a petulant child. you look a bit surprised to see her, “don’t you have a date with gary and his mustache?” you ask a bit bitterly, and melissa scowls. “it was just dinner, y/n.” the redhead says, and you gaze up into her eyes. “dinner like we have?” you ask, and she huffs in response. “that’s different and you know it! you said it yourself yesterday, there’s more to us than just that.” she reminds you.

“i was clearly wrong.” you sound abnormally stubborn, and melissa sighs in frustration. “i’m not going to see gary again, kid. so just come on over and sit down for dinner.” she commands, and you shake your head defiantly.

“no.” you retort, and she raises a brow, obviously shocked by the disobedience. “no?” she asks you in the warning tone she uses whenever one of her students is testing her. “that’s right, i’m saying no. ever since this started, i’ve always done what you say. i go at your pace, i wake up earlier just to see you, i don’t bake anything with chocolate because you hate chocolate. did you know it’s my favorite? i do whatever you ask to satisfy you. i put my feelings to the side, just to make sure yours are valid. all for my efforts to be outweighed by a guy who restocks the gushers in the vending machine.” you stress, sounding reasonably upset.

“why did you even get so upset about tracy the other day if you were planning on going out with gary? i don’t understand you.” you add, and the dam melissa built to keep her emotions in abruptly bursts. “exactly! you don’t understand me! you’re this young kid who has her whole life to look forward to. this is just a passing moment in your life; this apartment, this city, our dinners, me.” her voice lowers, “you got your whole life ahead of ya, you shouldn’t waste it tryin’ ta’ understand me. you should be dating girls like tracy who are equipped with all sorts of emotions, and able to give you what you need.” she adds, and you frown as she pours her heart out to you. she appears to be full of regret, and vulnerability.

“and what exactly do i need, lissa?” you can’t help but ask, and she runs her fingers through her soft red locks. “you need someone who’ll take care of ya, and show ya how much they care about you. you need someone who isn’t old and afraid of what everyone else thinks. maybe someone who wouldn’t completely embarrass the shit out of ya whenever you decide to take them back to your hometown…” she trails off, now she’s avoiding your eyes and the abnormal, unconfident demeanor causes you to frown. you practically worship the ground melissa walks on; even if she didn’t know it, you were completely enamored by her. it frustrates you to know she doesn’t put herself on a similar pedestal.

“you are the most beautiful woman i’ve ever laid eyes on. when i met you, i felt this instant pull that i had never felt before. god, i don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone as pretty as you, and it makes me so mad that you don’t think of yourself that way. i love you, you know? everything about you; the crinkles by your eyes whenever you smile, the way you curse when you’re angry, your southern philly accent… that irritated frown on your face whenever you’re upset.” you begin to get lost in your words, the space between you both getting smaller and unnoticed. her heart palpitates as you rave on and on about her with this genuine expression of stringent affection.

“you have all these amazing qualities, and you sell yourself short. you’re the best freakin’ cook in the world; the best and sexiest teacher in the world; you’re tough as nails; you have this energy that follows you, it’s fierce and warm. just like you. and as for your age, it’s hard for me too…” the last comment makes her eyes harden, and you’re quick to add, “… but it’s not because i think you’re old, mel. it’s because sometimes i feel like you don’t think of me as your equal. you just think of me as this young kid who’s a burden. but i know who i am, and what i want. i keep a memory of everything you do in the back of my head, and the space in my mind you take up is only getting bigger and bigger. you’re it for me, i’m positive, because how can i see anyone else when you’re engraved in my mind and heart?” you ask her, pouring your whole heart out to her.

your eyes widen when you see the tears threatening to fall from her delicate green eyes. “that’s— that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me… you— that was more romantic than the vows at my wedding…” melissa’s voice cracks and she tries to put on that stony facade, but it doesn’t work. your words seemed to have broken one of the steel walls she puts up; it’s crumbled into millions of pieces and left her exposed in front of you. her eyes are unguarded and her expression is fragile. she feels so small.

“you can’t just say things like that!” she snaps, her voice higher than usual. you shake your head, “why not? you deserve to hear more good things about yourself, and i can go on all night.” you sheepishly admit, and melissa’s eyes soften when they meet yours. “you really feel that way about me? even though i’m probably older than your mom?” she half jokes, but the self-doubt is leaking through her tone. “you are definitely way hotter than my mother.” you mutter, and melissa gasps but can’t manage to fight to the grin that’s tugging at her lips.

“gee kid, you feel all of that for me and have never even tried ta’ kiss me? what gives?” you can hear the genuine curiosity behind the playful question, and your cheeks turn an embarrassing shade of pink. “i didn’t… i didn’t think you wanted me. i mean, yesterday when i saw you with hulk hogan—“ she cuts in, “gary.” she corrects and you scowl cutely, “whatever. when i saw you with him it kind of reminded me you’re a woman who needs someone to take care of you and i… i’m just a kid.” you look down at your sock covered feet, and before you can even think about anything else, melissa is cupping your face and making you face her.

her lips are on yours in an instant, and the butterflies in your belly begin to repopulate one by one. she pulls away before you can think twice, “you’re not just a kid to me. you’re a good person, y/n. i’m sorry i was so immature about everything.” she sounds ashamed, but the sincerity in her voice makes your heart speed up. your cheeks burn and maybe the kiss sweetened you up a bit. “it’s okay, lissa. i understand… next time just talk to me.” you assure her and she smirks. “or i can just kiss ya again and see where that gets me.” she half jokes, making you grin.

“or that too.”

[bi-writes]

hi! i was thinking if you could write an older!boyfriend simon x reader BUT reader is john price's daughter so is kinda of a forbidden and secret relationship !!!! they've been dating for a long time now until john finds out !!!!!

18+

"how is she?"

"doing well, john. but you don't have to worry about her anymore, you know that right? she's not yours to worry about."

"she is mine. i know she's not..." john huffs. "she may not be blood, but she's mine, yeah? so when i ask 'ow she is, you tell me, kate. can we agree on that?"

"sure, john. she's in georgia. her russian got very good. if you want to know my honest opinion, i think she'll be one of my best."

"well...i wouldn't stand for anythin' less."

"john?"

that voice is music to him. he turns, taking his hat off, and he laughs, genuinely, when he sees you. his whole face lights up, and you make your way to him. it's been months since you've seen him in person--even though he makes you send him constant updates about what you're doing and where you are, you find yourself missing this man and the warmth he gives off whenever you are in his proximity.

he's always looked at you so kindly. he's always taken care of you. whenever you pick up the phone, he's always answered.

"'ello, bug."

he crushes you in a warm hug. he puts a hand on the back of your neck and holds you to his chest, and the tension in his shoulders deflates now that he has you with him.

"hi, john. miss me?"

"well...you were the only one with sense in my house."

"you live alone, john."

"aye."

he pours you a hot cup of tea before he makes you tell him all about your new posting. most of it is classified, and you tell him that, but his face lights up when you talk about the new skills you're learning and all the opportunities that kate is giving you. his face scrunches a little when you talk about the more dangerous ops, but john never has the same regard for his own life.

the mess hall gets busy once dinner time rolls around. his men were not expecting you, and that much is clear when they see their captain even enjoying a meal in public and not secluded in his office. you smile at his sergeants, but when your gaze lingers a little longer on the doors, johnny just nudges you with his elbow.

"miss the big guy?"

"what? no."

"he had a long night last night," he wiggles his eyebrows at gaz, who just laughs a little. "i might need to try the whole brooding, scary look LT has got on. attracts the most bonnie things, fuckin' christ."

your plate flies when you stab at your food too hard. the cutlery clatters as it hits the floor, and you jump a little, swallowing.

"are you alright, bug?"

"huh? yeah, oh...yeah, just...fucking clumsy. i...i'm gonna...find the toilet."

the blood is rushing in your ears as you make your way out. you're vibrating, hot inside, and you feel him before you see him, even in your anger.

when he pulls you into the shadow of a nearby supply closet, you swipe the blade out of your boot and hold it up against his throat. even through the mask, the blade bites, and he hisses as you hold him up against the wall there.

"don't fucking touch me," you snarl, and ghost's eyes are bright and alive as he holds his hands up defensively.

"wot--"

"and don't what me," you snap. "actually, don't fucking talk at all, you cheating, manipulative, british piece of shit--"

"look so pretty," he murmurs, tilting his head to the side. "did you do y'r hair, baby?"

"i will kill you."

"'s olright. last thing i see'll be you."

"i'm not fucking kidding, simon!"

he bends a little, tilting his head, and you breathe out through your nose as he leans his forehead against yours.

"reckon ya spoke t'johnny."

you scoff. "told me all about your winnings last night, lieutenant."

"was no winnings, love, don't be so fuckin' naïve." simon swipes at the handle of the blade, curling his gloved fingers around your wrist and forcing it away from him. "y'r just mad cause y'r cunt missed me."

"don't flatter yourself, asshole."

"so if i pull your knickers down right now, y'won't be drippin', swee'eart?"

"that's irrelevant."

"'s not. turn around and bend over."

simon's sorry, so he eats your pussy from behind. he gets down on his knees, and the crack of them satisfies you immensely, up until you feel his mouth between your cheeks, tongue slicking up your folds. you brace yourself against the wall, palms flat against the concrete as he puts two gloved hands against your ass and spreads you wide to fit himself nicely there. he hums, groans, makes you whine as he slurps obscenely into your cunt, laving at the drip of you until the taste of you floods his mouth.

"simon..." you whimper. "tell me i-it's not true."

he presses a wet kiss to your ass, biting it firm.

"'s not true, love. promise."

"fuck your promises," you sniffle. "you're a professional liar."

"tha' 'ow it's gonna be, innit? not gonna trust me? believe me?"

you rest your forehead against the cool wall, and the shadow of him envelopes you when he stands. he grunts a little as he gets to his feet. his big hands squeeze at the curve of your waist, and you close your eyes when you feel his breath against your neck.

"i'm sorry, simon."

"for wot?"

"i just...i like you so much. so much."

"come 'ere," he murmurs in your ear. he pulls your hips back, pressing your ass against his pelvis, and you dig your nails into the wall when you hear his belt buckle and zipper. "my pretty girl. my pretty, pretty girl."

"i missed you s-so much, simon."

"i know, love. quiet now. someone'll hear."

it's not the worst place you've fucked. you've snuck quickies in the rec room. behind the mess hall. met up in filthy gas station toilets, fallen into the backseat of a car in the parking lot of numerous military bases. even once, you deigned to suck his dick in his office, and you had to hide behind his couch when john came in to ask about an op.

john had a rule. his men were off-limits. he should've thought about that before he hired a man straight out of your wet dreams for his stupid fucking task force.

you're weak. and simon is a man.

inevitable.

you're a mile into pound-town when someone interrupts. simon is cock-deep inside of you, pelvis up against your ass, one hand braced around your throat and the other squeezing your ass. your eyes are rolled back into your head, and there's drooling coming out of your mouth. it's hot, disgusting, filthy to let him have you like this, but it's been weeks since you've seen him, and the phone calls aren't enough.

you love talking to him. you love when he talks to you. he'll never be annoying to you, you'll never get tired of him, but the distances hurts. you want simon to be all around you--inside of you, against you, his voice in your ear and his mouth against yours and his warmth your only sheet, but you can't bring yourself to do more than this.

you're too afraid of disappointing people. you're too scared of simon's rejection. if your relationship is nothing but fun, nothing but sex, you can pretend it isn't real, but you're just lying to yourself now.

you babble, and it sounds like love, but then the hallway light blinds you, and familiar blue eyes nearly kill you.

"jesus christ!"

simon puts his body in front of yours to cover you, using a harsh boot to kick the door closed. you squeak, covering your face with your hands, and you groan audibly as simon pants against your back.

"fuck--" you gasp. "oh...fuck, fuck, fuck!"

simon buries his face into the crook of your neck, laughing a little.

"bloody hell," he breathes. "reckon we're fucked, huh, love?"

"it's not funny, simon! we're in so much trouble!"

"well..." he squeezes your throat gently, tilting your head back. "could still finish. no sense in pretendin' now."

"you are not going to come when he's probably waiting for us outside."

"i'm balls deep in my favorite girl," simon mutters. "could come just fine. just say the word."

"you're disgusting."

"mmm..." simon squeezes your hips. "keep talkin'. i like when y'talk t'me like tha'."

"fucking asshole."

"yeah...yeah."

"you stupid, immature, unhinged pain in my ass--"

"fuck."

well.

you're definitely never leaving this room.

[erenthology]

a/n: nothing wrong with acne, this is self indulgent. The Eren brain rot has been taking over ever since watching the finale. Not proof read obs

Academic rival Eren who’s always made your life a living hell. while secretly obsessed with you.

Rival!Eren who flirts idly and is the most contusing person. you can never tell if he’s being serious or not.

Rival!Eren who stops you on your way out of school. “move, asshole.” of course, the life sized giant doesn’t. “did you not hear me? I called you an asshole.”

“Have dinner with me” he grins. what is wrong with him? you think. not liking the way your heart is beating 10 times faster

Rival!Eren who smiles watching you run away from him, knowing the tension isn’t one sided, and you do too

Rival!Eren who first laid eyes on you in pre school, crying because some kid had stolen your strawberry shortcake. you were both kids. Eren angrily pushed his cake on your plate, blushing when your tear streaked face thanked him

Rival!Eren who then made sure to make that guy’s life hell for the rest of the school year. You really loved your strawberry shortcake, the memory makes him laugh

Rival!Eren who slowly noticed you’re the only one keeping up with him in class. He still remembers the day you told him you’ll surpass him

Rival!Eren who then became your rival, who told the kids you had germs just so they wouldn’t take you from him and

Rival!Eren who loved you through all of your phases, and found you just as beautiful that summer you came back from break with your face covered in acne, and hair cut in a bob

Rival!Eren who couldn’t keep up with you in 8th grade because your boobs had grown so big over the summer, it was all he could focus on

Rival!Eren who nearly had a stroke when you got your first boyfriend. He even accidentally smashed the guy’s face in when he heard him talking about you in inappropriate ways

Rival!Eren who was right there to take the blame. He was fine with you hating him for the breakup, as long as you still talked to him, even if it was just to cuss him out.

Rival!Eren who was your first kiss. “If you score more than me on this, Eren, I’ll do whatever you want” you once so confidently said. he pretended to suggest the kiss as a punishment, but still reminisces over the way you both blushed and ran separate ways after the innocent pec

Rival!Eren who got accused of having a crush on you by the boys, and got so mad at the way you denied it, he started taking girls out on the dates just to get back at you

Rival!Eren who watched you slip away from him but nevertheless kept his eyes on you over the years. made sure no one was bothering you beside him

Rival!Eren knows, you know. whether you like to admit or not, you’re his. you have been since that day. he’s always been behind you, and you’ll always expect him to be

Rival!Eren who, even in collage, loves to compete with you. thrives over the fact that he has been opponent since you were both kids, and no one else

Rival!Eren who thinks you look so freaking sexy every time you score higher than him and gloat. your ego is through the roof and he loves it

Rival!Eren who also loves it when you crumble before his eyes as he exceeds you in certain subjects

Rival!Eren who goes out of his way to catch your attention. Pulling your hair in class, kicking your feet under the desk, anything, really.

Rival!Eren who touches girls, kisses them in the hallway right when you walk by just to look you in the eye and grin

“You disgust me” you mouth to him.

You’ve definitely heard rumors from girls gossiping in the school bathroom. Especially by ashley, who loves going on about the night they spent together. “Eren fucks like a god, he knows his way around a woman’s body.” bla bla bla

Rival!Eren who catches your eye in the school cafeteria. He always looks at you, but this time you really looked at him. He’s fresh out of the shower. must’ve had practice, you think. you really do love when he wraps his hair in a bun like that

Rival!Eren who stares just as intensely back at you, resisting the urge to come over and do the things he wants to. instead, he takes the opportunity to wink at you, chuckling over the way you get up and throw away your remaining food

Rival!Eren who runs after you to catch up, but is reminded of your stubbornness when you ignore his shouts, instead he wraps his hand around you and pulls your entire body towards him

Rival!Eren who leans forward and whispers, only for you to hear, “if you ever look at me like that again, I’ll come over and fuck the shit out of you in front of the whole cafeteria.”

Rival!Eren who pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear and soaks in the way you’re looking it him, trying his best to force his mind of your silken lips before you visibly snap back to reality and push him away

Rival!Eren who’s eyes gleam mischief when he’s paired up with you for a project. “We’re gonna have a lot of fun” he grins, adoring the face you’re giving him

Rival!Eren who gets mad when you cut yourself on paper. “What the hell are you doing?” he says, carefully inspecting your hand

“Just tell me what to do.” he snaps, taking over

That night you both stayed until late in the library, feeling overwhelmed by all the work. there was nothing weird about Eren’s hand finding yours, and yours finding his, as you both rested your heads on the table

Rival!Eren who blames the gentleman in him when you ask why he insists on driving you back home. “you think that lowly of me?”

Rival!Eren who’s ears spike when a guy in the locker room mentions asking you out. He won’t allow it. suddenly feeling eyes on him, he notices he just smashed his first into the locker

“Uh,” needing to be smart about this, he quickly comes up with an excuse, “nah, she’s too easy, i’d get behind Ashley if I were you, trust me,” he winks. Lies. no one is better than you, but you’re his

Rival!Eren who starts insisting on coming over to your place to get the project done. Wanting to see how you live, what color your sheets are, what you wear at home

Rival!Eren who’s eyes almost fall out of its pockets when he sees your bra lying on top of your gym bag. By no means is he unfamiliar with bra’s or the female anatomy. It’s the fact that it’s yours that send his mind into an orbit

Rival!Eren who thinks you’re getting closer, so why the fuck is he seeing you with another man in a coffee shop on a saturday night?

Rival!Eren who carefully waits until Monday where he tells you he needs to talk to you. even seeing your face is making him crazy, he hates it

Rival!Eren who asks if you have a boyfriend and why you haven’t told him. you’re confused by this for two reasons, 1, you don’t have a boyfriend. 2. Why would you tell Eren?

“Tell me the truth” he demands.

How can he say that after running through half the women in your college? “The truth? I hate you, so much. wish you would just leave me alone.” you say despite the lump in your throat

Taken aback, he speaks in an unsure voice, “you hate me?” It looked like it physically hurt him to hear you say it. “Got it.”

Sighing, you realize you might’ve overreacted. despite all your bickering, you’ve never snapped at him like that before, “Eren, wait-“ but he’s already gone

Rival!Eren who starts ignoring you. He still looks, but he doesn’t mess around with you in the joking manner that he used to

Rival!Eren who’s been on your mind a lot since the fight. so much so, that you’re falling behind on school. you decide to keep this distance he created once and for all, no more back and forth

Rival!Eren who stops listening to his friends the instant he notices your saddened look. to the avarage person, you probably look fine, but he knows you.

Rival!Eren who spams your phone with texts, tries his best getting your attention during class but to no avail. Did someone hurt you? Sitting through this lecture is killing him

Rival!Eren who follows you after class, forcibly taking hold of your hand. “Eren, no.” you sigh, pulling your hand out of his grip. Annoyed, he ignores your request and takes ahold of your hand again, “what’s wrong?”

“Why is it so hard for you to leave me alone?” you yell, surprised by the force in your own voice. both you and Eren’s eyes widen at your second outburst at him

“Alright,” he nods his head, “message received” he says and finally leaves you. Despite having asked for it, panic arises in you as you turn to watch him walk away, only to see him leaning against the locker, still there

A smirk finds his face, “thought I’d leave?”

he’s hit with a surprise when you put your head on his chest and starts sobbing. And you’re left equally as shocked by the relief that fills your chest

Rival!Eren who puts his arms around you and starts stroking your back. he wants to burn the world when he sees it’s hurt you

Rival!Eren who takes you back to his dorm with no room for discussion, but makes a quick pit stop, telling you he’ll be right back and to stay in the car

“Strawberry shortcake?” The look you give him makes him want to back inside and buy you all the cake they have

Rival!Eren who acts composed but feels his heart pounding in his chest all while he drives back to his place, while he’s leaning against the door frame as you’re explore his room, and as eat your cake in silence, with him staring at you

Rival!Eren who’s sure he’s mistaken when you flat out ask to give him to have sex with you, but is quickly corrected when you direct his hand onto the soft flesh of your boob

Rival!Eren who’s fingers act on their own, moulding and squeezing as he regains composure, “hold on, you’ve never done this before, right?”

“No.” you shake your head.

Rival!Eren who grabs ahold of your chin as a smile creeps up on his face , “good.” he’s going to teach you everything. but not today

Rival!Eren who’s thumb plays with the button of your jeans as he asks if you’re going to stop running away from him. loving the way you shy from his question

the way you hesitate makes him want to devour you whole. “I’ll kiss you if you don’t say yes” he leans forward to tease

“C’mon, hurry.”

“Yes.” you barely breathe out before he leans in and kisses the hell out of you. then proceeds to unzip your clothes

Rival!Eren who has the longest make out session of his life, making sure to prepare you by playing with every part of your body

Rival!Eren who’s soaking in the way your face twists into pleasure when he twists and turns his fingers inside of you, telling you to calm down and trust him

Rival!Eren who he talks you through your orgasm, flicks his tongue on your pulse point and whispers, “no one has ever touched you here before, right?”

Rival!Eren who holds you face in his hands after making you come, kissing you once, kissing you again, again, and again. he can’t stop stealing kisses from you, it feels like he’s been robbed of this his whole life.

Rival!Eren who declines your request for him to fuck you. only for you to get mad and get up looking for your clothes

“Yeah, but you’ll fuck every other girl passing by.”

Rival!Eren who laughs and drags your ass back down on his lap, he’s not letting you get away again. not a chance in hell

“You’re gonna belive rumors, baby? thought you were my smart girl.”

“Look, I may not be a virgin, but I might as well be. you’re the only girl Ive ever wanted. it’s not an excuse, it’s a fact. And I’ll keep showing it to you until one day you’ll believe it.”

Rival!Eren who promises to take your virginity one day, but not today.

[mariasont]

Hi I don't know if you're open to requests or not and this is also my first time asking for one but could I get slow dancing with Reid and it's like readers and Spencer's first time slow dancing together and they're all giggly and nervous and just adorable. If not that's totally fine I completely understand that you've got so much on your plate already love your writing!

The Corner Table - S.R

a/n: thank you so so much!!! i kinda took this the shy!medialiason!reader x post!prison!reid hope you don't mind :)

masterlist

pairings: shy!medialiason!reader x post!prison!reid

warnings: reader being a lil awk, spencer being flirty-ish

wc: 1.6k

You weren't sure what was worse honestly: how the high heels dug into your feet or the fact that every step felt like a very badly placed gamble.

The shoes were a mistake, obviously, stiff as concrete, and it only took about thirty minutes of awkward mingling to confirm you'd made a bad call. Thirty minutes of wobbly steps, trying to act comfortable, and—oh, the best part—tripping over your own feet in front of Rossi.

He'd laughed, patted your shoulder, and thrown out a you're doing fine, kid, but that did little to comfort you.

And now you were here, sitting at a round table tucked into the far corner of the ballroom, nursing the last watery remnants of what you’d hoped was champagne but turned out to be sparkling cider. All around you, people were laughing, chatting and spinning elegantly across the polished dance floor. 

You’d been warned that this event was a big deal, but somehow, big deal hadn’t captured the sheer enormity of it. It felt like the kind of thing where people belonged because they just knew how to belong, and all it did was push your shoulders up to your ears.

You tugged at the hem of your dress, smoothing out wrinkles that weren’t there, willing yourself—begging yourself—not to look at him.

That was an impossible task. You weren’t fooling anyone.

Spencer Reid, standing a few tables away, deep in conversation with JJ. He'd ditched his tie somewhere between dinner and now, because apparently, he needed to make looking ridiculous levels of handsome seem effortless too. He looked relaxed, confident, absolutely everything you weren't.

Again ridiculous.

He didn’t even seem like the same man you’d met a few months ago. That Spencer had been intimidating in a textbook, straight-out-of-an-academic-journal way. Impossibly smart, sharp-edged in all the ways that made you stumble over your words like you didn’t even know the alphabet. 

But this Spencer? There was something softer about him now that you knew him better, something quieter you’d found yourself to enjoy, but it was no less overwhelming.

If anything, it was worse. You couldn’t stop looking at him... but you couldn’t hold his gaze, either. Tough shit.

You’d spoken to him only a handful of times tonight, and that had been more than enough to convince you that keeping your distance was the safest option. Embarrassing yourself in front of him once was bad enough (you’d spilled your drink on the lapel of his suit). To risk doing it again? You weren’t sure your pride could take the hit.

A slow song started to drift from the speakers, and you watched as couples started to move. You watched as they swept onto the dance floor, moving as if they’d rehearsed it like one of those flash dances at the mall. It was sweet, you supposed.

Sweet and incredibly uncomfortable, because the longer you sat there, the more out of place you felt.

Your eyes drifted—without permission, really—back to Spencer. JJ had stepped away, leaving him standing there alone, his hands in his pockets.

You looked down quickly, hoping he hadn't noticed you staring. 

"Do you always sit this far away from everyone?"

The voice startled you, mostly because it was coming from so much closer than you’d expected.

You jumped, your head snapping up so fast you almost knocked over your drink. Spencer was standing there. Right there. His hands still rested in his pockets, his posture relaxed, but his head was tilted slightly, and the way he was looking at you—curious, maybe a little amused—made your heart do a somersault straight into oncoming traffic.

At least that’s what you imagined.

"I—what?" you stammered.

He smiled—a soft, easy, lopsided thing that hit you like a sucker punch to the stomach, which immediately decided it hated you. And maybe him.

Your heart surely didn’t feel the same.

Anatomy, man.

“I was just wondering if this table was some sort of hiding spot,” he said, his hand sweeping toward the empty seats. “Because if it is, it’s a pretty good one.”

You laughed nervously, a sound that felt more awkward coming out of your mouth than it had in your head. “No. Not hiding. Just… taking everything in.”

He raised a brow, his expression making it clear he wasn’t buying it.

“Right,” he said, his voice dipping just slightly as the smile at the corner of his mouth grew. “And are you planning to take everything in from this exact spot for the rest of the night?”

You blinked at him. You weren’t sure if you were more embarrassed by how he’d seen straight through you or impressed by how easily he’d done it. 

“I… hadn’t really thought that far ahead.”

“Well,” he said, taking a step closer, closing the already small space between you, “if you’re open to suggestions, I have an idea.”

Your heart, already racing, shot straight from traffic into the stratosphere. “An idea?”

He nodded, extending a hand toward you. “Dance with me.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a second, all you could do was stare at him.

“Me?” you managed, because what else could you say?

“No,” he said, deadpan. “The chair behind you.”

The laugh escaped you before you could stop it, louder than you’d meant, and for a second, you regretted it. But then his smile grew—still soft but more genuine, his eyes crinkling just slightly—and it made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t entirely out of your depth.

“Yes, you,” he said, his voice softer now. “Unless you’d rather keep sitting here, of course. No pressure.”

But it was pressure, somehow, because he meant it, and that made it infinitely more difficult to think straight. 

And because he was Spencer Reid, standing there with his hand out like it was the most normal thing in the world, waiting for you to decide.

You glanced at his hand, then at the dance floor, then back at him. “I’m... not really good at this kind of thing.”

“That’s okay,” he said simply. “I am.”

There was nothing arrogant about his words.

You hesitated, glancing around the room, but no one was paying attention to you. The only person who seemed to care at all was Spencer.

And, against all logic—or maybe because logic had completely abandoned you, probably likely—you reached for his hand.

It was warm and solid in a way that made you painfully aware of how clammy your own hand must have felt in comparison. For a split second, you half-expected him to pull away. But he didn't, instead, his fingers curled around yours like he'd done this a hundred times before.

Was this really happening? Your mind couldn't seem to catch up with the reality of him, of his hand in yours as he guided you to the dance floor.

Every step felt louder than it shoulder, the space between you and everyone growing smaller, and with it, the sinking feeling that you were completely exposed. Spencer didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he did, and just didn't mind.

“See?” he said softly, his voice barely rising above the music, yet somehow, you couldn’t miss it. His hand shifted slightly, his fingers pressing lightly against the small of your back. “Not so bad.”

Easy for him to say when he wasn't the one trying to remember how breathing worked—or how standing upright worked, for that matter.

Because all you could think about was how close he was. Close enough that the heat of him seeped through the thin fabric of your dress, close enough that every shift brough the clean scent of him, close enough that if you were feeling particularly risky, you had every ability to press your lips to his. Not that you would ever feel so risky.

“I feel like everyone’s watching,” you muttered, keeping your eyes firmly on the space between your shoes and his.

“They’re not,” he said, so surely that you almost believed him.

Almost.

You weren’t sure where to put your other hand, so you settled for his shoulder. That was a safe bet, right?

To your surprise, Spencer was... good at this. Like, really good. His movements were natural, steps easy and fluid, like he'd done this a hundred times before. Meanwhile, you felt clumsy, awkward, your limbs uncooperative in a way that made you hyper-aware close he was. It was a wonder you hadn't tripped over your own feet—or worse, his.

You felt a flicker of envy. Not for the way he moved, exactly, although that too. But just the way it felt like he wasn't even trying. Like it was just a part of him to make you feel like you were the most important person in the room.

"You're good at this," you blurted the thoughts in your head before you could think about stopping them. 

He chuckled softly. "I've had some practice."

You arched a brow. "You've had practice slow dancing?"

“Well, technically, yes,” he said, his lips twitching like he was barely holding back a grin. “It’s just physics—weight distribution, momentum, coordination. Very simple stuff.”

"Of course it's physics," you muttered, unable to stop the small laugh that escaped you. 

His smile widened, and for a fleeting moment, the nervous energy between you seemed to dissolve, melting away like it had never existed. But then he looked at you—not just at you, but into you—and it was right back.

You couldn't say how long the song had been playing or when the rest of the room seemed to blur into nothingness. All you could feel was his thumb brushing over your knuckles, so light it almost tickled and you felt like it might disappear if you acknowledged it aloud.

It wasn't the kind of touch that shouldn’t have meant anything. It was just a natural shift in movement, probably, something he might not even realized he was doing. But it crashed through you all the same, leaving your thoughts muddled and fuzzy.

The song ended far too soon.

Spencer's hand slipped from your waist, but he didn't let go of your other hand right away. His thumb brushed over the back of it—just once—before he released you. Just enough to make you feel semi-crazy.

"Thanks for the dance."

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The words caught somewhere between your chest and your throat, leaving you nodding instead, helpless to do anything else.

His smile lingered like an afterthought before he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your hand still tingling where his touch had been.

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @r-3dlips @m-indkiller @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @reiderrambles @averyhotchner @hbwrelic @sky2nd @messylxve @alexxavicry @doigettokeepyou @pleasantwitchgarden @kodzukenmaaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spenciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @c-losur3 @theylovemelody @alahnizamolo @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @spiderladyleah @estragos @khxna @spencerssoup @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll @reidfile @sugarbutterbailey @aecd27 @persephonestears @moonyxstars @xxmooxmooxx @spookyysinsanity @proxxyshouse @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @jungchloee @she-wont-miss @duchesz @i2rapunzel @historicallyweirdandqueer @lcvealwayss @p13rc3-th3-m4tt13 @babyhoneybyhs

[wileys-russo]

Alessia Russo

“You can’t leave me like this!”

alessia russo

"you're not seeing less tonight?" your room mate asked in surprise as you appeared in your living room in your pyjamas. "no she has a big game tomorrow, part of our agreement is that she gets a good nights sleep beforehand. otherwise we stay up talking for hours and i get the blame if she plays bad!" you chuckled collapsing onto the sofa.

the two of you bickered about what to get for dinner for awhile until you eventually settled on chinese, your roommate stepping out to call and order as you browsed through your shared netflix to watch list.

"rom com?" you called out, the girl giving you a thumbs up as she continued to order, ending the call and joining you again on the sofa. the two of you agreeing on a movie you patiently awaited your food to arrive, commentating through the film to one another as usual.

but no sooner had you paid and thanked the delivery driver did your phone ring, your girlfriends contact popping up as you shoved a spring roll into your mouth and clicked accept.

"hi baby!" you greeted once you'd swallowed your mouthful, nodding as your roommate dished you up a plate adding in a little bit of everything. "lessi whats wrong?" you asked, her lack of returned greeting causing you some concern.

"can you come over please?" the girl requested as your eyebrows furrowed. "why whats happened?" you stepped out of the room as your roommate gave you a questioning look and you dismissed it with a wave.

"theres an intruder." "what!" "yeah, can you just come over please?" "of course love i'll call the police on my way. are you safe??"

"police? i don't need the police." alessia spoke as you paused, frown deepnding even further. "lessi im a little confused here." you entered your room and shrugged on a puffer over the top of your hoodie.

"a spider babe, theres a huge fucking black spider and i need you to come kill it please." alessia clarified as you sighed in relief that there was no real danger. "just hit it with a shoe less you've got about a hundred pairs." you chuckled, pausing with one arm in and one arm out of your puffers.

"no! please baby its massive like im talking enormous and its in the bedroom so i won't be able to sleep!" alessia whined much to your amusement, the taller girl often boasting how much stronger and faster she was than you and making fun of your notable height difference.

"thought you were just so big and strong and athletic babe? euro winner can't kill a little itty bitty spider?" you cooed mockingly, shoving your other arm in your jacket. "shut up! just get here and help me please." with that the call beeped that she'd ended it.

"just put mine in the fridge, i'll be back in an hour tops." you sighed to your roommate quickly catching her up on the call as she let out a laugh, wrapping up your plate for you as you called out goodbye and grabbed your car keys.

ignoring the three calls from your girlfriend you drove over to her flat which was about twenty minutes from your own, pulling up in the driveway to find her stood on the front steps with her arms wrapped around herself.

"alessia its freezing are you stupid?" you huffed at her lack of clothing as she rolled her eyes. "all my jackets and hoodies are in the bedroom." the blonde frowned as she let the two of you into her place, taking your puffer for you.

"right. where is it then?" you sighed tiredly, stomach rumbling as your girlfriend handed you a shoe and a can of bug spray, pushing you toward her bedroom. "thanks babe." you grumbled flicking her a glare over your shoulder.

carefully pushing open her door you stuck your head in and looked around, stepping properly inside with a frown as you looked around but came up empty handed.

"it's gone." you shrugged returning to where your girlfriend sat waiting on the sofa. "you killed it?" the striker perked up with a grin, balling your hoodie in her fists and tugging you down on top of her. "i love you i love you i love you i love-" she started to kiss all over your face making you blush.

"no baby, it's gone as in i can't see it anywhere." you clarified as she stopped, pushing you to sit up with legs straddling her hips. "what! well go look for it then." the blonde ordered pointing back to her room with a huff.

"no! alessia its probably gone back outside again, i am not turning your entire room upside down to look for a spider. i love you very much but i've got dinner waiting for me and i'm starving." you leaned down to kiss her sweetly before standing up off of her.

"you can't leave me like this!" your girlfriend hurried after you, snatching your keys off the hook and holding them out of your reach. "less!" you groaned, smacking her chest and stretching for them but it was a fruitless task given she easily stood head and shoulders taller.

"you can't leave me alone what if its just waiting for you to leave before it appears again?" alessia challenged with a raised eyebrow. "its a spider alessia i don't think its got a personal vendetta against you." you chuckled, keys still held out of your reach.

"what if it comes back though? i'm not sleeping in there with it in hiding!" alessia decided firmly as you sighed and dropped your arm. "then sleep on the sofa baby, please gimme my keys im hungry!" you groaned, poking her stomach with a hufff.

"good. you can stay here tonight and i'll cook you something now while you go look for that little eight legged intruder." alessia dropped your keys on top of her book shelf well out of your reach. "what? no!" you protested, trying to reach for the keys.

"yes. or you leave the spider to its business and we sleep on the lounge together." you let out a yell as your girlfriend suddenly grabbed you, hauling you over her shoulder and wandering to the kitchen.

"you know this display of athleticism really doesn't do anything to erase the fact you're scared of a tiny weeny spider and forced me to come over and kill it." you smacked her behind before she sat you down on the counter.

"well you didn't even do that, some girlfriend you are." alessia sighed with a shake of her head as she moved to look through her refrigerator to cook you something as you scoffed at her comment.

"where you going? you can't leave love." alessia chuckled with a smug smile as you narrowed your eyes.

"i'm gonna go and catch that spider and then i'm gonna throw it on you while you sleep."

[jjksblackgf]

cherry flavored | jjk (m)

pairing — jeon jungkook x reader summary — You bet with your boyfriend that he can't handle more than five minutes of your tongue, but Jungkook never turns away from a challenge. You'll make sure to keep him in his place. genre — smut, pwp, established relationship rate — 18+ word count — 1.6k warnings — explicit sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), deep throating.

The empty bottles of wine filled the center of the dining table, and the cheese platter was almost gone. Jungkook, with an arm around your shoulder, sat by your side at the dinner table, and your friend group filled the rest of the seats.

The laughter surrounded the apartment, and your friends filled you with joy.

“Can I help you clean up?” One friend asked you, and through her eyes, you could see she needed to talk.

“Sure thing,” you agreed. She asked your friend Alicia to join you in the kitchen before she started to talk.

“Guy, I need your help,” she said, nervous.

“Shoot,” you prompted.

“I’m dating this guy, and he’s got the biggest stamina ever!” she exclaimed. “I don’t know what to do. I need to get some sleep,” she finished whispering. You had to giggle at that.

“What is your dating life?” Alicia asked her, finishing the last of her wine. “The last guy didn’t know how to make you cum, and now this?”

“Everything in excess is bad for you, you know.”

“You need to control the situation,” you said. “Get him as hard as he can and only let him finish once you’re satisfied. That’s how I do it with Jungkook. Less than five minutes of blowjob and he’s done for. I usually do that when I want to speed things up.”

“Excuse me?” Jungkook appeared in the kitchen with some more plates for the dishwasher. 

“Did you figure out what they are talking about?” Jeremy, your coworker, butted in the conversation, walking into the kitchen too. 

“This one right here,” Jungkook said pointing to you, “just said that sometimes things need speeding up,” he said, frantic. 

“What things?” Jeremy asked.

“In the boudoir,” Alicia clarified.

“Oh, my man!” Jeremy shouted, hugging Jungkook sideways. “Be my personal trainer, man. I need that stamina,” Jeremy slurred his words and the girls giggled. 

“That’s rich coming from you, since you can’t take your hands off me,” Jungkook said. His face was full of emotion. Betrayal and cockiness were the most prominent.

“I can too,” you countered. Your friends just stood there, turning their heads from you to Jungkook and back.

“Alright, prove it. We’ll clock it. Whoever lasts longer wins.”

“You’re being such a virgo now,” Alicia commented.

“Okay, fine,” you agreed. And with that, you shook hands. 

Even though your friends were fully entertained, they had to leave eventually. Jeremy wished Jungkook good luck, and he rolled his eyes. The dishes were clean, the wine stained tablecloth was in the washer, and you were done.

“High five for the cleaning crew,” Jungkook said, already offering both of his hands. You complied, and he used the opportunity to pull you to his chest and kiss your lips. “Shout out to us.”

“Shout out to us,” you agreed, pecking his lips.

“Want to go to the boudoir?” He asked, mocking Alicia’s tone. “I want to set a record from the jump.” You had to roll your eyes at that. “I promise I won’t gloat.”

“Let’s see how you perform,” you challenged.

You woke up after a blissful night, still riding the high of an orgasm before a good night’s sleep. 6 minutes and 12 seconds. You were ashamed. If you were to guess, you’d say at least 10 minutes. But he’s good. Really good. With a tongue of the gods.

Jungkook shifted in his bed, stretching loudly and with a sinful smile. He woke up feeling himself. He didn’t gloat with his words, but his expression alone had you fuming. You had to beat him. You’d have to pull out the big guns. To the drug store you went.

The day passed quickly, and in the late afternoon you came back from work ready to rock his world. You entered the bedroom and heard Jungkook turning off the shower. That was good, less clothes to take off. He stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his hips and one drying his hair. His hair… His wet hair… It had you drooling. But you had a job to do.

“Wow, look at those pecs,” You said, sitting in the bed. You had the most fantastic view of his body. The light of the sunshine hit the droplets of water that were traveling through his torso just right. Mouthwatering. 

“Like what you see?” Jungkook said, wiggling his eyebrows and flexing his abs slightly. He walked closer to peck your lips. You used this moment to run your hand through his hair and hum in appreciation. Jungkook was really feeling himself now, smirking through the kiss.

Perfect time to enact your three step plan.

Step one, flatter his ego.

Step two, engage his competitiveness.

Step three, win

“You have somewhere to go?” you asked, holding his arm before he could go get dressed.

“Not tonight. Why? Feeling inspired?” he asked, jokingly stroking his abs, drying a few water droplets with the tip of his fingers.

“Actually, yes. I’m feeling pretty lucky to have left my end of the bet for tonight. You look so hot with water dripping on you like this,” you said, ogling his body and biting your lower lip. He gave you a breathy laugh.

“Say more words like that.”

“I’m ready to admit defeat. I just want to cherish you all night long,” you whispered. Wait for it…

“Wrong turn. I have the stop watch ready to go.” Bingo. “I am nothing if not a man of my word.”

“I guess that’s fine by me, too.”

“Where do you want to do the honors?” he asked, and you patted the bed, pulling him closer. He sat down, and you pushed his shoulders back, he fell down on the mattress and you straddled his lap with confidence.

“Bossy. I like it.”

“I can tell” you said, feeling his cock getting harder against your jeans. He was so easy. But getting him hard wasn’t difficult, getting him off on the other hand… But you had a good plan.

“Ready?” he asked and you pulled out flavored condoms out of your pocket.

“Yes, sir!”

“Condoms? I’m clean,” he joked, and you rolled your eyes.

“They’re part of the experience.”

“Condoms!?” he asked louder. “The things known to delay sensation of all mankind?”

“Not when I suck the flavors off them, they don’t.”

“Flavors?” he asked, and his eyebrows shot up.

“Get the watch going,” you smirked. He took a deep breath and pulled out the stopwatch.

“You’re on,” he said, pressing the top button.

You kissed his neck first, taking advantage of his position, and he closed his eyes. Maybe concentrating on not cumming, maybe enjoying the experience, maybe both. You grinded your crotch against his, and you noticed his breath get faster. 

You trailed kisses down his torso, savoring the many water droplets. You got off the bed and removed the towel easily. You opened the first condom, putting it perfectly. You saw Jungkook’s eyes shot open, and you knew he was curious about your methods.

“Which one is that?” he asked, trying not to sound so interested.

“Mint.”

“Refreshing,” he commented. He physically prepared himself, balling his hands into fists and taking a deep breath.

You had this, though. You used all of the pressure of your cheeks, wrapping your lips around him completely and bobbed your head slowly. You caressed his inner thigh in the process. Not much composed, Jungkook groaned and hissed, and you could see he was doing his best not to cum.

The flavor was gone in about two minutes, and Jungkook sighed in relief when it was time to change it. He ran his palm through his face, taking another deep breath, but you still hadn’t pulled out all of the tricks up your sleeve.

“Time for cherry,” you sang. Your secret weapon. Jungkook loved all things cherry flavored. The fruit, pies, jam, chapstick… So when his head shot up, and his eyes were about to jump out of their sockets, you knew you made the right choice.

You didn’t give him time to fully process it, your mouth engulfed him again, as deep as it could go. You made sure to use your gag reflex to your advantage, closing your throat around his tip, and retrieving it with a loud pop. The saliva trail left behind left you moaning his name.

“Jungkook, I want to taste you, baby,” you said seductively, and he whimpered, closing his eyes shut.

And you continued with your technique, ruthless.

One more.

Two.

Three.

When your lips wrapped around him for a fourth time, he pressured against the back of your head to keep you there. Your throat closed around him once more, and with a final grunt, he released you.

He panted hard, and you quickly grabbed the stopwatch, pressing the top button to mark your time. 5 minutes, 53 seconds.

He did last five minutes after all, just not longer than you.

“You played dirty,” Jungkook accused, seeing your inappropriate smile.

“Dirty is my middle name.”

Your friends were once more gathered around your dinner table. Jungkook was refreshing people’s drinks while you served the desserts. Cherry pie.

“How’s things with what’s-his-name?” you asked your friend, not bothering to remember his name.

“I took your advice to edge him, and it worked like a charm. But it’s not going to work, he’s too needy now,” she answered.

“Go figure,” Alicia commented.

“Hey, how was the bet by the way?” Jeremy inquired.

“Mind your business, Jeremy” Jungkook said, and the table erupted in laughter.

“How long?” Jeremy pressed.

“I lasted 20 seconds longer,” you gloated.

“Score!” Jeremy high fived you, and Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“I thought you promised not to share.”

“I promised no such thing.”