#i wrote this instead of tucking myself into bed and sleeping

[fanaticsnail]

My offer will stand

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,800+

Synopsis: After being reprimanded by your boss for another mismanaged and hierarchical transgression transfer, you found an unlikely hand offering you comfort in the hallway behind your superior officer's door.

Themes: Mihawk x marine!reader, no gendered terms used, fluff, hand kissing, hurt / comfort, crappy boss, degradation and insults (crappy boss), affirmation and praise, flirtations, hat tilting.

Notes: @since-im-already-here said she was having a bad day. I told her to give me a blorbo and give me 40 minutes before bed. Have some fluff, sis. Enjoy the warlord.

It had finally broken you.

That welled dam you chose to keep behind the concrete slate of your resolve had began to crack the moment that cruel reprimand fled from your superior’s lips. It wasn't your fault, it was never your fault, yet you had become the scapegoat for all of the administration mistakes run by the marine’s International Charter Navigational Cooperation.

You had made the map, certainly. Each line and crease was of your making, as was the devotion you spend coursing over each calligraphed etch. But one misplaced line drawn by your supervisor was enough to tip the Vice Admiral over their edge.

Leaving the room after a cruel rage was imposed onto you, and clicking the door closed behind you, you placed your back on the wooden pane while you sucked a heavy breath through your nose and clenched your eyes tightly shut. You could still hear their voice ricocheting around in your mind and ringing in your ears.

“You can't do anything right.”

“You're a disgrace to call yourself a marine.”

“I should have you stripped of your awards and writing addresses in the mail room.”

“The only thing keeping you here is the fact your direct supervisor begged me not to discharge you from service.”

“The next mistake will be your last, marine.”

Exhaling, you internally chastised yourself by the way your lashline began to flood with the overwhelming emotion. Your breath felt more like a quivering sob than a relinquishment of air, and you hated yourself for this weakness. You were a marine, a hardened and trained soldier who devoted your life to your trained craft.

And this was the moment that broke you.

At the first tear, you sprung your eyes alert, checking first the hallway to ensure the coast was clear before another fled over your water line. There was no whimper, no sob, no sound other than your breath inhaling and exhaling as steadily as you could while you attempted to calm yourself down and ground yourself to the area around you.

The surrounds was a corridor with slate tiles, grout beginning to crack and fade into the floor and ruin the foundations. The windows were thick with ill-maintained cleanliness due to the heights of the marine tower and lack of volunteers for high-rise scaling. The lights illuminating the corridor was buzzing with an electrical fizz you had trained yourself to zone out.

The rhythmic clicking of leather boots and high heels rung on the floor to indicate the approach of a group of people you had not anticipated come to this side of the tower at present.

Seven warlords began to pass you. In your state of dishevelment, you stood your ground and looked straight ahead with an unmoving expression. None paid you any mind as you were simply a marine in usual uniform, and you chose to not let them see how hard your boss broke you by controlling your breathing and maintaining your stature.

As the last of the seven warlords moved past you, you noticed a clearing of a throat and a wave of something frilly and pale before your eyes. This small motion broke you out of your transfixed stature and you turned your head up to gaze upon a sight you had never anticipated.

“Dry your eyes, marine,” the powerful warlord of Kuraigana informed you curtly, “It would be unbecoming should any of the others have spotted your present state. Especially the feather-clad Donquixote.” You bat your lashes up at the world's greatest swordsman as you were shell shocked in your stupor.

Rolling his eyes and clicking his tongue, he simply stepped closer to you and immediately placed his hands on your shoulders and brushed off the white and blue panels of your uniform jacket. After your shoulders, he drew his hands down and straightened your tie, and began to shift down to your brass buttons to face them upright.

“Before you open and close your mouth in a bid to question why I'm doing this,” he spoke with a soft and sassy remark, “And believe me, I can already hear questions of: ‘You're a former marine hunter, why care about the way I look right now?’ and I would implore you to drop it and permit me to continue fix your attire to that more suitable of a marine.” He continued his fussing until he drew the frilled handkerchief up to your face.

Starting at your chin, he swiped at the few tears that spilled from your lashes up to collect the fresh few pooling on your eyes. His attention to detail wasn't lost on you. The flicker of his brow, the piercing gaze from his honeyed hue, the way his lips parted in concentration as he ensured your tear-blotched skin had returned to the way it should be was all causing you to truly delve into your mind of swirling questions hidden beneath your flickering eyes.

“I can see the question lingering in your eyes, marine,” he chastised you with a small smirk drawing up beneath his manicured upper lip. “And I explicitly informed you to halt them.”

“I had assumed you had fixed my attire to that more suitable of a marine,” you quipped in return as a small swell of bravery pulsated in your veins, “Which would indicate an opportunity to ask you why in the hells you're touching me like this right now.”

Mihawk’s eyes widened slightly, and his smirk remained drawn over his features as he almost released what sounded like a huffed laugh. He removed the handkerchief from your face and offered the monogrammed material out for a second time to you.

“Touche,” he tipped his feathered hat to you as you took the material from his hands into your own. You felt the brush of his cool fingertips meeting your own, the moment of time halting in a frozen standstill. The look he gave to you was almost soft in comparison to the hardened swordsman of great renown you knew him to be. His eyes held a gentle tease to them, knowing the next time you parted your lips would be with that same predictable question.

“Why are you so focussed on helping me, lord Dracule Mihawk?” you asked him plainly, “There is no reason for you to interact with someone like me. I'm nobody, just a lowly marine while you are one of the greater warlords of this era of piracy.”

“Because, my dear,” he stepped in closer to your proximity, his lips dropping closer to yours, “You're not just any ‘lowly marine', are you?” His hands clasped around yours, softly cradling the flesh of your digits beneath his own. He slowly rose your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand while his eyes maintained contact with your own.

“What you are is so much more than that,” he whispered intimately, holding onto each syllable as if he was afraid to let them go, "Allow me to elaborate."

“You are one of the greatest map makers of our generation,” he emphasised, pressing another kiss to your knuckles and smoothing over your skin.

“Everything you do, you do to the finest of minute and miniscule details that most could miss,” he continued, tracing his lips over to your wristband and placing a kiss gently on the seam of your uniform jacket, “And the marines are lucky to have you.”

Mihawk drew that hand behind his neck before finding the other and cradling it within his own.

“The only thing keeping you here is your own valour, honor and creed you bound yourself to when you took the vow to be a marine,” he emphasised by drawing up your hand to his lips, “Not some hierarchical leverage another assumes they hold over you.” He placed the other hand behind his neck to join the other behind him. Leaning down he emphasised his final words by almost placing them against your lips by contact with his own.

“And the next time they make the mistake of blaming you for another's misdeeds,” he tilted his head and almost caused you to close your eyes and lean into his embrace, “The monogram on the handkerchief holds my signate, and location to my keep in Kuraigana.” At the simple taste of his breath on yours, the whisper of a soft tingle of his beard dusting your skin, his contact was broken from you by a hasty step backwards.

“Should they do something as petty as speak ill of anything you do in future, or blame you for another's misdeed again,” the swordsman continued with a soft flicker of mischief in his eyes, “I have always wanted to place a true artist on my payroll.” He reached up to the broad brim on his hat and tipped it toward you. “As a warlord, I hold diplomatic immunity, which extends to my staff, as a promise of my contract to the marines. You would be taken care of, should you leave them for me.”

“Lord Dracule Mihawk,” your silence was broken as a warm flush began to flood your ears at his words as they sunk in. Mihawk’s smile ticked slightly at the corners before it fled his face and held the memory within the shadow of his moustache.

“My offer will stand indefinitely,” Mihawk nodded before turning on his feet towards the room where the warlords had disappeared within, “You would do well to remember that should you find yourself wanting more than a life of being reprimanded for something you simply did not do. Treat my word as my bounds.”

“I trust your word, Lord Dracule,” you nodded after him. He simply nodded his head and allowed his lengthy embroidered coat to flow dramatically at his heels as he disappeared down the corridor into the meeting room.

While you believed this to be the moment that had finally broken you as a marine, the sword wielding warlord offered you the kintsugi repair to bring beauty and promise from your fractured loyalty. You expected a reprimand from your boss to be all that became of you in this moment, not a promise of new beginnings on the shores of Kuraigana.

The question then remains as to whether you wait for another reprimand from your superior, a discharge from service and a severance package to follow. Or, do you leave with the dark-haired warlord as he returns from the meeting space with your higher ups and the others. In your heart, you knew which was the more honorable choice to make.

But what honor remained for you to hold onto after such mistreatment from your superiors?

Looking down onto the monogrammed material, you thumbed over the embroidery with a soft smile on your features. Your destiny awaited you, and you would claim that path under the cover of darkness: sailing on a coffin-shaped boat under the protection of the Lord of Kuraigana, one of the seven warlords of the sea, and the current title holder of the world's greatest swordsman to serve him as his artist and chronicler in his high keep.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @ane5e

[strwbrychffoncke]

"and so i drank one ,it became four ,and when i fell on the floor i drank more,, 2.4k words synopsis: lads men taking care of you when you're drunk contains: lads (separate) x drunk!reader ,f!reader (use she/her pronouns around + femme petnames) ,fluff, some drunk comfort ,completely self-indulgent (based on me when i drink so keep in mind) ,reader is a lightweight (lol) ,some suggestive dialogue but nothing happens its mostly teasing ,that might be it note: unedited! wrote after drinking myself so beware of typos lolol, this was written in honor of the new yrs :x

-

zayne

(implied) established relationship, you're at his place, doctor zayne mode activates, reader is pretty clingy, zayne gets you water, you get carried, you sleep in his bed, he hides the alcohol from you (lol???)

"it looks like someone overindulged themselves tonight."

"huuuuuh?"

you tilt your head, innocent eyes finding zayne's hard gaze.

"whad'y mean?"

coming home to see various alcohol bottles sprawled out across the kitchen counter, and a couple of empty bottles of some sweet mixed drinks you had sitting in the fridge for who knows how long was not something he expected after another long shift at the hospital.

he only sighs in response to your question, walking towards you to check you over before you cling to him.

"zayyyyne, missed you soooo much," you mumble, arms encircling around one of his tugging him closer.

"you're drunk."

you burst into a fit of giggles before refuting.

"no im nottt."

"just how much did you drink this time?"

you think it over for a long moment before deciding on your answer.

"just a little," you emphasize by holding your index and thumb fingers up, a small distance in between them.

zayne leans towards you, hand rising to rest on your forehead.

"how do you feel?"

"my head feels like its going to fall off...." suddenly your expression morphs into one of worry, and your eyes water as you look up pleadingly at zayne.

"it won't fall off, will it doctor?? its so heavy, it feels like its going to fall off...."

"no, its not going to fall off," he reassures pointedly, drawing his hand back in favor of pinching the bridge of his nose.

"really????"

you look up at him, eyes wide and hopeful, and when he looks back down at you he can't help but to pat your head.

"really. now, let me examine you further."

you give a short nod, small giggles escaping your lips as he gives you a good once-over, dragging his index finger across your line of vision (noticing how you quickly lose focus and laugh instead) and taking note of your hazy, half-lidded eyes.

"my diagnosis is that you're drunk."

"i'm nooot," you whine.

"i'm going to get you some water, and then you'll get some rest."

you let out an involuntary yawn, proving his point before he stands up and turns towards the kitchen.

"i'll be right back," he says, but only manages a single step before you latch onto his hand with both of yours.

"don't leave," you whine, looking up at him again with those wide, tearful eyes.

seriously, how much did you drink????

"i'm only grabbing some water for you. i'll be back in a moment."

with that, he takes off, leaving you to giggle to yourself for a moment before calling out to him.

"zayne.... zayyyyne.... come baaaaack............ where did you gooooo?"

he's back in under a minute, and you're quick to cling to him once he's back in your sight.

"zaaaaaaayne!"

"let's get you to bed."

"carry me?" you ask, reaching your arms up as your lips curl up cutely.

he sighs before promptly reaching down for you.

"it seems this particular patient requires plenty of rest given the way she's acting."

with those words, he lifts you up with ease, carrying you bridal style towards your shared room, quickly noticing the way you almost seem to go limp in his arms by the time he gets to the bed.

you already managed to fall asleep?

after he tucks you in, he makes sure to hide every liquor bottle properly while making a mental note to tell him when you wanted to drink so that he could make sure to be with you when you did.

even if your drunk self was a handful, he thought you were still quite cute.

who knew you were such an easily amused drunk?

-

xavier

established relationship, out together before he takes you to his place, sleepy!reader (+ xav), he gives you water, affectionate!reader moment, he changes you (freak mode is not activated), cuddling

tonight, the hunter's association went out drinking to celebrate a particularly grueling mission that turned into a success.

while neither you or xavier drank much, you decided to indulge just a little given the nature of the mission.

though, despite xavier's warning for you to not overdo it, he watches as you down your second drink as he sips on his water, already preparing himself for the trouble you'll be causing later.

which leads to now, supporting you (almost like half-carrying you) as he unlocks and leads you through the entrance of his apartment.

"ah, im so.. sleepy...."

"yes, me too. the sooner we get you in, the sooner we can get to bed," he reassures.

you're led to his sofa, falling back into the cushions as he runs off to retrieve water from his fridge for you.

when he comes back, your eyes are closed.

he bends himself to your level, nudging your cheek with his finger.

"hey, don't fall asleep before drinking some water."

"head hurts.." you mumble.

"the water will help, come on."

he opens it for you, pushing it towards your lips.

they part, and he takes the opportunity to tilt the bottle slightly, hydrating you himself.

after ten seconds, he pulls it back, wiping a stray droplet from the corner of your lips before screwing the lid back on.

"why would you drink so much when you can't handle it at all?"

you chuckle at this, and he sighs.

"come on, let's get to bed, i'm tired too."

"sleepy time," you mumble as he grabs your hand and helps you to your feet, steadying you with both his hands.

"sleepy time indeed," he nods once, leading you to his bedroom.

right at the doorway, you suddenly wrap your arms around him, planting sleepy kisses across his cheek.

"oh?"

xavier is stunned for a moment but accepts the drunken affection, wry smile forming on his lips.

you pull away to look at him.

"you're so pretty," you sigh, gaze faraway yet almost enchanted by him.

he laughs at this.

"come on, lets get to bed already."

he helps you shed your outer clothes before ridding of his own, pulling one of his sweaters over your head as he pulls on sweatpants, tugging you to fall into the mattress with him.

he hugs you close, planting a kiss on your head, then your cheek, your nose, and then your lips as your breaths even out.

"sleep well, my lovely star."

-

rafayel

implied established relationship, whiny!reader, teasing!raf, he calls you "cutie," you're at his studio/home

truth be told, rafayel loved when you got like this.

since you didn't drink often, it was quite the treat for him to see you as clingy and needy as he felt for you on a daily basis.

"raaaaaaaaf," you whined.

"yes, cutie?"

you hugged him.

"'s so hot," you breathed out, slumping beside him.

he laughed.

"but i opened the window to let the sea breeze in awhile ago, isn't it working?"

you pout, shaking your head before quickly regretting it, laying it back down against his shoulder.

"not at all."

"you poor thing," he said half-teasing, reaching his free hand out to pat your head.

"raf."

"hm?"

"rafayel."

"yes?"

"ra-fa-yeeeeel."

he broke into a wide smile.

"need somethin', cutie?"

"jus' like your name," you mumbled.

"oh? really?"

"mhm."

"well, i like yours more."

"nope."

"mhm."

"no."

"do too."

suddenly, you reach for his hand.

you tug it towards you before beginning to trace his fingers.

"are you a fortune teller now or something?

he maneuvers his hand so that his fingers intertwine with yours.

"too bad, looks like you can't see it anymore."

you giggle at him.

"stay like this?" your words come out as a question.

"there's nothing i'd want more," he answers, heart full at the satisfied smile on your face before cuddling into him once more.

-

sylus

relationship can be seen as established or not tbh, he calls you "kitten" several times, incorrect use of evol? (but its to save reader from falling lol), you get carried, he comforts you

sylus walks into the kitchen as you step out, taking note of the various alcoholic beverage cans and bottles across the counter.

"having a party without me, kitten?"

you shake your head.

"no, no," you smile. "jus' needed t' grab som'ing" you manage to slur out, headed towards the stairs.

he watches you as you begin making your way up some stairs before you stumble.

before you can even register that you're falling, black and red tendrils wrap around your body, catching you with ease.

your airy laughs fill the room, uncaring of you almost falling down the stairs, the feeling of the tendrils circling your waist and thighs almost electrifying against your sensitive skin.

"s-s-sylus! aha! tickles, hahaha-!"

the man in question half grins at your reaction, none the wiser to the surge of panic you just caused him.

in no time at all, he's beside you, tendrils gently uncurling from you as he looks down at you.

"such a clumsy kitten," he shakes his head. "what will i do with you?"

you're still swaying slightly, blinking up at him, and he doesn't wait for an answer that you may or may not give before hauling you over his shoulder, causing a surprised sound and you erupting into another fit of giggles.

he holds you securely, making his way towards his room with you, the pleasant sound of your amused laughs his favorite melody.

he passes by luke and kieran, asking them to do away with the beverages that are still out on the counter.

"is she... alright?" luke asks out of concern.

"oh, she's just fine. it seems a little kitten can't hold her liquor very well," he shakes his head.

after they leave (you waving at them as they disappear into the distance) sylus feels you shiver against him.

"cold?"

"so cold..."

"don't worry, kitten," he begins, pushing the door to his room open. "you'll be warmed up in no time."

he wastes no time gently dropping you into bed, watching as you bounce slightly on the mattress, a pleased sound escaping you as you waste no time to get under the covers.

"are you alright?" he asks, head tilted and concern lacing his tone.

you nod before you frown.

"stomach hurts...."

"my poor kitten."

sylus quickly turns out the light, settling beside you as his large hand comes up to rub over your belly.

you curl into him, pleased grin stretching across your lips, and without realizing it, you've drifted off in sylus comfort and warmth.

he doesn't know how long he stays by your side, gaze fixed on your sleeping face as he continues soothing the spot of pain, but he knows that in this moment, there's nowhere he'd rather be.

-

caleb

implied established relationship, slight suggestive remarks, worried!caleb, caleb teasing you

when you stumble your way through the front entrance of your home, the first thing you're met with is caleb, hands crossed over his chest as he stares down at you, unamused.

before you can greet him, he speaks up.

"do you have any idea what time it is?"

your eyes slowly shift up to his, and you can't help but to burst into a fit of giggles.

"hiiii," you drag out once your laughing begins to subside.

caleb stares down at you for a moment, taking in your slightly disheveled state and your lack of comeback, hardened expression softening just slightly.

"are you.... drunk?"

you burst into giggles again as you deny his accusation.

"not at alllll," you deny, swaying side to side.

"ok, you're literally just lying."

you move to take another step but somehow stumble right into caleb, who quickly wraps his arms around you.

"what the hell did you drink, pipsqueak?"

"dunno..." you trail off, closing your eyes, feeling comforted by caleb's embrace.

"'m dizzy.. so sleepy...."

"ok, let me just get you to your room first, yeah?"

you nod, allowing yourself to be led by caleb to your bedroom.

you make it quickly, not without a few more stumbles, mostly leaning on caleb's large frame for support as you're led to sit down in your desk chair.

"ok, wait here, i'll be right back."

when he leaves your gaze lingers around your room, darting across the shelves and decorations as if its unfamiliar before you slump down in the chair.

you sway side to side for a bit before you allow yourself to slip down further, sinking down down down until you're splayed out on the soft carpet.

just as you make yourself comfortable, hurried footsteps get closer and enter through the doorway.

"ok, i'm back, i have-"

caleb pauses, staring down at you before his eyes crease in amusement.

"pipsqueak, what are you doing on the floor?"

"'s comfy," you answer, grabbing a nearby plushie (that caleb won for you) and hugging it to your chest. "wanna sleep here."

"well, you can't."

"why?"

"because your bed is right there."

"don' wanna get up..." you whine, eyes shut and curling up comfortably.

he sets down the water and medicine bottles he brought in on your bedside table before his attention is on you again.

"making me do the work like usual, huh?"

you don't have time to try and process the underlying meaning of his words before you feel yourself being lifted, erupting into laughs at the action before you're tossed onto your bed, bouncing against the mattress before you're settled, amusement still circulating the room.

"caleb!"

you're looking at him through your creased eyes, half closed as you slowly recover from your fit, watching as he shrugs, teasing smile playing at his lips.

"you said you couldn't get up, so i helped you."

when the giggles subside, you're both staring at each other for awhile before caleb breaks his gaze away.

"ok, you should really sleep now. do you need anything else before i go?"

"you?"

your answer comes out so simply, so honestly, that it catches him off guard, stuck in momentary shock when you speak up again.

"sleep with me," you pat the side of your bed.

he recovers from his shock at these words, smirk breaking out.

"oh? really, pipsqueak?"

"caleeeeb," you whine.

he puts his hands up in mock surrender.

"kidding, kidding," he closes the distance, standing right at the side of the bed.

"you sure you want me to sleep with you?"

"yes," you say, grabbing his hand.

"ok, ok, let me just get the light first."

he switches the light off, making his way back over before being tugged into bed by your eager pull.

even after he falls into the mattress with an oof, he quickly settles in before teasing you again.

"you sure you don't have any ulterior motives in pulling me into bed with you this time?"

when you don't pipe up again, he takes a look to see you having already dozed off.

he sighs, hand reaching up to cup and caress your cheek.

"sleep well, my pipsqueak. i'll be sure to punish you for worrying me so much tomorrow," he whispers his promise into the night, sealing with a kiss to the corner of your lips before slipping his eyes shut.

with you safe and secure in his arms, he could finally fall asleep peacefully tonight.

-

a/n: writing this after drinking hehe... i want to write more detailed (maybe full fics) of lads x drunk!reader but wrote these little imagines up for nowwww... i would like them all to dote on me but i think im quite funny in this state hehe -

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Comfort Headcanons for Frank, Matt, and Mikey

A/n: so I am ridiculously overwhelmed by personal and political stuff right now. And I told myself I was going to write every day this week if possible, but my brain was being difficult today. So instead of working on a longer fic I wrote some self-indulgent headcanons about Frank, Matt, and Mikey caring for an overwhelmed partner. I hope you all enjoy. Please feel free to send me other headcanon requests!

How would they’d react to you being overwhelmed

Frank

Frank would pick up on this IMMEDIATELY

the second your self care habits change, he’s onto you. You stay up later than normal two nights in a row, or run out the door with a granola bar instead of eating a real breakfast, and he is concerned™️

He’s willing to entertain it for three days max. He knows life gets tough sometimes, and he doesn’t want to encroach on your process—but we all know that once this man is worried, he’s minutes away from taking control. He has issues but we love him for it.

On the 4th day, when you’re waking up exhausted after far too little sleep and rejecting his offer to take you out for breakfast, he puts his foot down.

“Gonna order in for dinner tonight, ok? We can watch that movie you wanted to see and turn in early.”

You hastily agree, bolting out the door before you end up late to your job.

When you finally arrive home, he’s all over you in an instant. Murmuring his hellos while helping you out of your coat and shoes, ushering you over the couch.

He’s insisting that you sit in his lap while the two of you pick out dinner, offering suggestions for restaurants instead of leaving the choice open-ended. Given how tired and generally stressed you seem, he wants to take as much weight off your shoulders as possible.

Once dinner has been ordered, he tucks you close to his chest, practically burying you in a jumble of muscular limbs, humming appreciatively when you nuzzle further into his space. His hand is cupped around your nape, thumb gently brushing over your spine as you hunch toward him.

“Ready to talk about what’s botherin’ ya, doll?” The question leaves room to decline, but his stern tone suggests you choose to answer.

He listens carefully as you tell him what’s on your mind, brushing silent kisses against your forehead whenever your breath wavers around a stifled sob. His hands never move from your skin, cradling you to him like he’s trying to absorb your pain.

He wouldn’t let you lift a finger the rest of the night. Retrieving the take out, dishing it up for you, drawing you a bath, tucking you into bed

When you’re beginning to drift off atop his giant shoulder, he’d rest his forehead against yours.

“I know it’s tough right now. But we’ll get through. I promise.”

“Please don’t leave, Frank.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, babydoll.”

Matt

Matt isn’t as observant of your habits and routines, but he can sure as hell pick up changes in body language.

Gritting teeth, blinking back tears, frustrated sighs—he notices all of it. He might not act on it immediately, brushing it off when you explain that you just had a bad day, but when your fatigue and growing apathy persist…

I think you hiding something from him would spook him for sure, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be determined to get answers out of you. He’d set his personal anxieties aside and prepare for a serious talk.

He’d leave the office somewhat early, asking you to meet him at his apartment. He’d offer you a beer, or whatever you were in the mood for (if his lacking fridge and pantry allowed for it), and he’d ask you the big question.

“You aren’t yourself lately. What’s going on?”

He’s not happy when you start crying, but he’s definitely relieved when you collapse into his arms and explain your recent mood. Even more so when you confess it had nothing to do with him.

As always, he harbors immense guilt for not being there, not being endlessly supportive, not being able to solve the issues gnawing at you with his own two fists.

But what he doesn’t realize is that he’s helping just by being there. By being present and absentmindedly squeezing you with his tree-trunk arms. By acknowledging your struggles and offering what he could.

He’d cut his patrols short for a few days, nearly begging you to sleep at his loft instead of in your own bed, so he could keep a metaphorical eye on you. He sleeps better with you by his side anyway.

Mikey

You’re Michael’s whole world, so he’d know you were overwhelmed before you realized it yourself.

As soon as he spotted the stress lines on your face, he’d be on his feet, trying his best to lighten the burden.

He’d walk you to and from work, as always, maybe even stopping by to keep you company on your lunch hour.

When he wasn’t with you, or ignoring his family, he’d be constantly cleaning the house and working through your joint to do list, taking task after task off your plate so you could properly decompress.

He wouldn’t pressure you to talk to him about it, but he’d give you the option.

“I’m here if ya want to talk, pet. Anytime ya need.”

And, of course, you’d take him up on it. Explaining that you could handle everything and you didn’t want him to overwhelm himself trying to help you because it was just a pile of small things that were wearing you down. But he’d have none of it.

“I wanna do this fer ya. Let me help, love.”

He’d bundle you in a knit blanket on the couch and set the tv to your favorite show, kissing the top of your head before heading to the kitchen to clean up after dinner.

I hope you enjoyed! And I hope you’re all doing ok this week. It’s rough out there.

[edsbug]

Moonlight

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader

summary: eddie helps you find comfort on a restless night (wc: 1k)

contains: reader has a bout of insomnia, eddie sings to reader, hurt/comfort (emphasis on the comfort), fluff, eddie being a sweetheart

author’s notes: i have been struggling a bit lately and wrote this to make myself feel better. i hope it may help others too<3

The room was steeped in shadows, the only light coming from the faint sliver of moonlight peeking through the curtains. Eddie lay sprawled across his bed, his unruly hair fanned out on the pillow, his breathing deep and even, lost in the realms of sleep. You, however, were wide awake, your mind refusing to quiet down.

Eddie's room was a blend of chaos and comfort, stacks of well-worn magazines, band posters covering the walls, and a full ashtray on the nightstand. You stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the plaster, the ticking of the clock growing louder with each passing minute. You didn't want to wake Eddie, knowing how little sleep he often got.

It had been a week since you got a decent nights sleep. The room feels like a silent witness to your restlessness. The minutes drag on, and each glance at the clock only heightens your anxiety. You try to focus on Eddie's calm presence beside you, hoping his tranquility might somehow seep into you. But instead, you become acutely aware of every small sound — the ticking of a distant clock, the faint hum of the refrigerator, the occasional creak of the trailer settling.

As you lay there, the frustration of not being able to sleep begins to build. Every time you close your eyes, your mind races with a cascade of thoughts, each one more persistent than the last. You replay the events of the day, worry about tomorrow, and ponder the meaning of fleeting moments that now seem monumental in the quiet darkness.

After what feels like hours of tossing and turning, you decide to slip out of bed, hoping some movement might help clear your head. Carefully, you begin to inch your way out from under the covers, moving with precision. But as you swing your legs over the side of the bed, the mattress creaks slightly, and you hear a soft murmur behind you.

You freeze, holding your breath, but it’s too late. Eddie stirs, his eyes fluttering open. “Hey,” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. “Where’re you going?”

Caught, you sigh and turn to face him. “I’m sorry, Eddie. I didn’t mean to wake you. I just… I can’t sleep.”

Eddie blinks a few times, shaking off the remnants of his dream. He props himself up on one elbow, worry etching lines into his forehead. “Come back to bed,” he says softly, patting the space beside him.

You hesitate, but the concerned look in his eyes and the warmth of his voice are too inviting to resist. You climb back into bed, and Eddie immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. The scent of his skin, a mix of soap and his cologne, fills your senses, grounding you.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks softly, his lips brushing your forehead.

You lean into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. “I’m not sure. A bit of everything. I just can’t seem to turn my mind off.”

Eddie chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear. "Sounds familiar. You know, I have a trick for that."

"What trick?"

He reluctantly untangled himself from you and slid out of bed. You watched as he scurried towards the living room. After a moment, he came back with a vinyl record, glancing at it with a small smile before moving to his record player tucked away in the corner of his room. "This," he said, holding up the record, "is one of my uncle's favorites. Always helps me relax."

He carefully placed the record on the turntable, the needle finding its groove with a soft crackle. The room filled with the warm, mellow sounds of a classic rock ballad, the kind that seemed to wrap around you like a comforting blanket.

Eddie returned to the bed, climbing back under the covers and pulling you close.

"There. Just listen to the music. Let it carry you away."

You nestled against him, feeling the vibrations of the music seep into your bones. The gentle strumming of the guitar and the soothing vocals eased the tension in your body.

Eddie began softly humming along to the music, his voice a soothing lullaby. His hand traced lazy patterns on your back, his calloused fingertips grounding you.

"I don't know what l'd do without you," you whispered, your voice trembling.

Eddie pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. His eyes, full of love, met yours. "You'll never have to find out, because I'm not going anywhere.”

He leaned in, kissing you softly, and for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just you and Eddie, wrapped in each other's arms, safe from the chaos.

Eddie's humming turned into soft singing, his voice low and melodic, blending seamlessly with the gentle strumming of the guitar. You closed your eyes and let the melody wash over you. Your racing thoughts began to slow, the worries of the day fading into the background.

Eddie's presence, steady and unwavering, was a beacon in the dark. He had a way of making you feel safe, even when your mind was in turmoil. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the music.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. "Anytime. I'm here, always."

Minutes passed, the music weaving its magic. You felt the edges of sleep begin to creep in, your mind finally quieting. Eddie continued his gentle ministrations, his fingers brushing through your hair, his breath even and calming.

You sighed, your body relaxing completely for the first time in days. "I think it’s working," you mumbled, feeling sleep pull you under.

Eddie chuckled softly. "Good. Just keep listening. I'll be right here."

And with that promise, you finally let go, surrendering to the gentle embrace of sleep. The music, Eddie's voice, and the shared quiet moment between you created a perfect harmony, one that carried you into a deep, restful slumber.

As you drift off to sleep, Eddie’s voice is the last thing you hear, a promise in the dark. “I’ll always be here for you sweetheart. Sweet dreams.”

[plorpl]

On my second re-watch of the series. In full brainworm mode. Struck me how stupid it is that Wilson's office is next to House's instead of near the department he runs. Wrote this to smooth it over (and make myself sad).

~1000 words, gen, set post-series

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

“Do you remember… during the remodel?”

Wilson’s voice came low from a few feet away, barely audible over the sound of the highway just outside the window. They’d stopped riding late in the day, exhausted and cranky, eaten what they had left of their stash of granola bars and beef jerky for dinner, and flopped into beds without even washing off the grime from the road.

All signs pointed to falling asleep quickly, waking up in a better mood, leaving the squalor of this roadside motel for the squalor of the next. But neither of them were asleep two hours later. Wilson had started getting generalized chest pains at night, so bad he sometimes didn’t sleep; neither of them bothered to diagnose it, to explicate. It didn’t matter. They were three months into their trip, and they wouldn’t be able to keep the pace much longer.

House wet his lips and swallowed before answering. It was dry in Arizona. Go figure.

“What about the remodel?”

A brief pause, then, “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Do you ask me questions while I’m asleep often?”

“Yeah.”

He looked over at that. Wilson was under the sheet and stiff comforter, shivering slightly. it was that kind of night, then.

“Wanna do drugs?”

It earned a smile and a nod. House sat up, rifled through his backpack, and rattled the bottle when he found it.

“You’re going to have to sit up.”

House watched him struggle a little. Wilson didn’t like being helped. He would take it when it was necessary, but before that point it tended to make him sour. They’d already bickered twenty times about the irony, so House didn’t bother making a sly remark.

He thumbed two pills out for each of them, and they swallowed them almost at the same time, House dry, Wilson with the help of a half-empty gatorade bottle on their shared nightstand. Wilson sat there for a few seconds, propped up on dingy pillows, hands clutched around his waist. His face was almost funny - clearly uncomfortable, but not as much as was called for. He looked like he’d smelled a fart, not like he'd been kept up for hours by the pains of a slow death. House wondered for the thousandth time if all that politeness and bravery and bluster was for his sake or Wilson's own.

House felt the vicodin hit his bloodstream, and his eyes slipped closed. When he opened them again, Wilson was watching him with that look of his. House’s throat clicked as he swallowed.

“Well? What about the remodel?”

“You leaned on Cuddy so hard. Tormented her for weeks.”

It had been an interesting time - demolition, fresh paint on the walls, doctors packed into temporary buildings and loaned out to other hospitals. Cuddy was beside herself for three months straight, and House had done nothing to help the matter.

“She was expecting me to hire three people. I needed the space.”

Wilson shook his head. “I'm not talking about that part. Although your office size was ridiculous. Hennings almost quit over it.”

“Hack.”

Wilson smiled again, then started to push himself back down the bed gingerly. House just watched him, figuring he’d continue the conversation if he wanted to.

Wilson tucked the covers up to his chin, sighed happily, and said, “I know it’s probably lost on you at this point, but those things make me feel good all over.”

“It’s nice, right?”

“No, I mean all over. Even the sheets feel good. Like my skin is fuzzy.”

He was clearly a little loopy, but House knew what he meant. It would took quite a dose to get House to that point.

“It’s so nice to share hobbies.”

Wilson laughed, really laughed.

“Can you come over here?” Wilson motioned to the other side of his bed with his head only. “I think I need to lay on this side for a bit.”

He started turning slowly without waiting for a response. It was the kind of anodyne request that House had never stomached from anyone but Wilson, and sometimes not even him. Lately, though he always did. It didn’t sting anymore.

He stood, stretched, and limped around the foot of the bed, rolled onto it, over the covers. He settled on his back, one hand behind his head, watching Wilson’s forehead relax as the vicodin did its work.

Wilson shifted and shivered again, but somehow House didn’t think it was the pain anymore.

“I toured the oncology wing.” He spoke without opening his eyes. “Walked around my future office before the walls were put in. I remember, they put me between Greenbeck and Tom. I was mad about not getting the corner. But I didn’t say anything, of course. God forbid I actually ask for anything I want.” Wilson opened his eyes. “And then,” his voice broke, “I got to work on the first day back. Cuddy cut the ribbon, the whole shebang. I went up to my office... But it wasn’t there.”

House just watched him. It had been part of his deal with Cuddy. The primary stipulation, actually. He told her that Wilson was in on it, that he'd agreed to it, but that had been a lie. He had been too worried Wilson would veto it.

“I’ll never forget finding it,” he paused to smile, small and sad, “seeing my name on the door."

House breathed to say something, maybe sarcastic, make him laugh. Please, laugh again. He came up empty.

Wilson wet his lips and said, “I remember standing there, thinking - thinking that this might be the clearest I would ever hear it from you... Hear that you want me around. That you need me. Not for a favor. Not for a prescription, for distraction, for a laugh. Just for me, to be near to you.”

House breathed and watched his eyes through the dark - soft at the edges, earnest, alive.

“This is what you say to me when I’m asleep? Kinda fruity.”

And it did get him a laugh. A good one. House smiled back.

Wilson managed to free his arm from the covers. He laid a light hand on House’s shoulder, thumb rubbing back and forth. He got this way when he was high - tactile and sentimental. Or maybe it was the dying. Or maybe he'd always been this way, and always held it back.

House turned onto his side, facing him, ran a reciprocating hand up and down Wilson’s arm in a slow circuit. Wilson closed his eyes to the feeling.

“It’s actions,” Wilson breathed. “It’s actions that matter.”

They fell asleep like that, and woke early, and never talked about work again.

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

My other Hilson fic, also written in a fugue state

[edgessunflower]

Hi so I saw that you wrote for Chyna and I was wondering if I could request Chyna x fem reader that appreciates her body? Just romantic praise and kisses, showing her that she's physically perfect and that she's loved dearly

Ooooh yeeeessss

You're truly and undeniably beautiful

Pairing: Chyna x Fem reader

Description: After Chyna is made fun of because of her body, you show her how much you truly love and absolutely care for her

You immediately stop what you're doing when you hear loud crying and cursing, running to see a very upset Chyna with an equally pissed off Eddie "What happened?". You hug her tightly as eddie explains that while they were celebrating his win after a big match at a bar when a man came up to her not only calling her names but he also poured beer on her and grabbed her hip as she kept pushing him off until eddie stepped in and punched him in the nose outside as they were trying to leave, "Thanks eddie, I'm glad you were there to do that instead of me, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself" he nods hugging both of you before leaving, "Go shower and I'll be up okay?" she nods quietly, going upstairs as you grab yourself and her a plate of stir fry, going upstairs to your shared bedroom and picking out pajamas for her. She comes out and changes, hiding behind the closet door which made you sad but you stay quiet as you turn on The object of my affection eating and brushing your teeth together seeing her halfway tucked under the covers but still fully awake "I'm so disgusting" you turn to her quickly with a look of surprise and hurt at the comment, "Baby no your not that guy was a prick" she looks at you with tears in her eyes, fixing to say something but you stop her before she can even start saying something else bad about herself "Honey, you are one of the most sweetest, kindest, strongest not just physically, and kindest women I have ever met in my life" she shows a small smile but you can tell she is still thinking badly of herself. "I'll show you how much I love you" you kiss her while holding her face in your hands, caressing her cheek as you slowly kiss all over her face and jaw, going down her neck, stopping to look at her when you grab the hem of her shirt silently asking for consent which she immediately gives you making you smile sweetly, throwing the shirt at the end of the bed as you continue kissing down her throat and chest until she gets up sitting back on top of the blanket so you have more access to the rest of her body as you feel her hands run through your hair as you reach the top of her shorts, slowly taking them off and putting them on top of her shirt as you kiss down her legs. "You're truly and undeniably beautiful, no matter what anyone says" you hold her hands as you have your head between her legs for an hour until you kiss back up her body with the utmost care, affection, and unconditional love as you see tears flow down her face making you worried until she smiles big, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and her legs around your waist as you both lay next to each other until she gently lays on top of you with her head on your chest listening to your heartbeat "I love you darling" she turns a shade of pink at the pet name, kissing your collarbone as the movie finished "I love you sweetie" you rub up and down her back with your hand until you hear her soft snores and feel her breathing even out in her sleep, staying awake for another 7 minutes before falling asleep as well.

[aniimxses]

@devctiion || ( KAVEH )

Al Haitham,

It would figure you wouldn't show your face even around your own birthday! If I hadn't gleaned the day for myself, I would have thought you had never been born at all and were already fully formed since your conception as the most infuriating man alive.

I swore I wrote this date on my calendar somewhere, but I must have... accidentally burned that one between then and now, because there was no note to remind myself. And you sure didn't see fit to remind anyone yourself! I only even remembered by complete happenstance, so sorry if the end product is a little rushed, so you should feel grateful you're getting a gift from me at all at this rate.

Anyways... Happy birthday. This is for you. I hope you find this useful. Pick up your damn books for once______

The letter is hastily scrawled, Kaveh's handwriting only degenerating the longer it goes on, with certain phrases scratched out poorly, leaving them somewhat still legible to anyone whose vision isn't blurring from a two day engineering bender. The ink must not have even been dried yet when he fell asleep, because there's a long streak trailing off the last word, leading all the way to the quill resting in his limp grip.

Beside him is the gift he didn't have the opportunity to wrap yet: A book cart, but an unsurprisingly ornate one, considering Kaveh's predisposition for the aesthetic. It doesn't even have anything so mundane as wheels. That would be too primitive. No, this book cart is a Kshahrewar project, and so it floats just so above the ground, unimpeded by any potential obstacles on the floor and perfectly balanced to right itself if shoved one way or the other.

One can always trust the Great Kaveh to over-engineer the solution to even the smallest of problems.

Birthdays aren’t anything special to the Acting Grand Sage. Haitham comes home to find a suspiciously quiet house and decides to investigate, scouring each of the rooms for any sign of life. Presumably his roommate is in his own quarters, but Haitham thought he might at least like to know that there was some extra baklava from the batch that had been gifted to him.

Although, based on the quantity alone, it’s clear enough to the scribe that this was always intended to be a shared dish.

He supposes he’ll have to have Kaveh thank the Traveler later in his stead.

It’s only decent practice to knock, but Haitham pauses at the door when he sees that it’s slightly ajar already.

“Kaveh?” He calls out before pushing it open. Light spills into the hallway and he finds the architect slumped over his desk, a plush cheek resting against his own arm. It’s not unusual to find Kaveh asleep in this kind of position. It’d be far from the first time, at least.

Haitham walks over to at least turn off the lamp beside him when he spots the unfinished letter tucked underneath Kaveh’s arm. Immediately, he identifies his name scrawled onto the top and goes to carefully extract it.

Kaveh’s always been a heavy sleeper once he actually went to sleep. Haitham doesn’t react even as the blonde snuffles and shifts a bit. Instead, he focuses and perusing the contents of the letter. Honestly, it’s good that he has a lifetime of linguistic study and is familiar with Kaveh’s sleep-deprived chicken scratch, otherwise this would be completely illegible.

Once he finishes reading it, he looks over to the floating contraption beside the desk. Curiously he goes to push it, then presses his hand onto it to see how it tilts and re-aligns itself with its own center of gravity.

Haitham pockets the letter and then proceeds to cap Kaveh’s opened inkpot. He clicks his tongue in distaste and makes a note to get the man a new one, now that this one has dried out. He then plucks the quill from his roommate’s loose grip, setting it onto the desk properly before carefully treading over the clutter on the floor to grab the blanket on Kaveh’s bed. It’s draped over the exhausted man’s shoulders with careful deliberation. The scribe also does his roommate the favor of removing the remaining barrettes clinging on for dear life in that nest of hair.

Finally, he turns off the lamp, and after bringing his gift out from the room, he shuts the door with a soft click.

In the morning, Kaveh will find Haitham asleep in the living room with his birthday present beside him.

...Atop it is a plate full of baklava crumbs and an empty tea cup.

[hankkd7]

[2021] Bentley's journal

~~ JAN 6, 2021. ~~

It has been more than 24 hours since the death of my mother...Tess told me that I should write down some of my thoughts in a text file of some kind, just for myself... I don't know how this will help me, considering I have never done this kind of thing before, but I trust Tess because she herself has tried it before.

More about her death...I woke up at 3:47 AM to a loud noise. Thinking nothing of it, I went back to sleep. Turns out that was the gun going off. Makes my stomach turn knowing I left her decomposing for some 8 hours...

I wasn't able to sleep that night, even with Tess just downstairs ready to comfort me whenever... I faintly remember a night terror I had...all I can remember of it is that my head hurt like hell afterwards. Tess told me I was shouting at something...so it must've felt all that real to me.

Yet, I don't know why I can't remember it... Call me crazy, but I only heard my mother whisper my name in the dead of night...I guess this is the start of the grieving process.

~~ JAN 11, 2021. ~~

We're having the funeral in Astoria, where she grew up. It's hard to guess why she'd move down to California instead of Astoria. I'm pretty sure she told me once that this house was once my paternal grandparents' house before they retired.

The hardest thing about yesterday was talking about the plans for the funeral with my uncle. It's the first time I've heard him cry...he just lost his sister just like that. I knew that they were very close.

Reading him the part in the note my mother wrote that was addressed to him was difficult too... it was just too fucking difficult to not break down into tears...My little cousins don't even know yet...

I still haven't slept yet...I feel so tired and weak...and I don't feel like eating at all... That mental image of that room is constantly flashing in my mind whenever it pleases itself to.

Is it all my fault...? Why didn't I see the warning signs...?

~~ JAN 12, 2021. ~~

I've been felling worthless with every hour after my last entry...just absolutely pathetic... I still...can't...fucking...sleep or make myself eat.

Or at least I couldn't...

Tess came over to check in on me and help me pack up for the trip up. I'll never forget the look on her face when she saw me... It look like she was worried, horrified...but also glad to see that I was okay...?

She said I looked so exhausted and hungry...she practically had to watch me eat a thing of yogurt before tucking me into bed while she gathered my things...Never have I felt so relaxed around her until now...

I ended up waking up from a 12 hour long rest to her watching a movie quietly. She also ended up surprising me with the news that she's coming up to Astoria with me for the funeral, and will be giving me a ride to and from. I remember feeling relieved that I wouldn't have to endure that nearly 5 hour long drive by myself.

Tess ordered us a pizza and we spent the rest of our evening talking...she managed to get me to laugh for the first time in three days...Over all; a really nice time bonding with each other... Since we haven't hung out in-person that much after the mass hysteria of the COVID pandemic...seeing each other and talking like nothing happened feels so comforting for me...

Not to mention she kissed my cheek while I was walking her out to her car. She had a blush unlike any other she's had.

The car ride tomorrow might be a little awkward for a tiny bit. But we both know that we're just a little more affectionate for each other than most friendships of the opposite sex...

~~ JAN 13, 2021. ~~

We've gotten a hotel room for ourselves after visiting with my family for a bit. I've been starting to feel like little things that wouldn't really bother me are now starting to piss me off.

I don't know if this is just a part of the grieving process, but I don't feel right. Like, I'm a new person after the event...

~~ JAN 23, 2021. ~~

I completely forgot about this log. I've just been so occupied...doing nothing... I emailed my professor, explaining my situation and that I would need some time off. And then after my trip...isolation. From everyone but Tess.

She's been checking in on me at least once every other day. Sometimes bringing me sandwiches from work for some decent food. I lie to her about my mental health though...I don't know why...I just feel like I'm gonna waste her time venting about everything that's bothering me.

I'm doing fucking terribly in actuality.

Is it normal to want to hurt yourself after this...?

~~ FEB 1, 2021. ~~

Yesterday, I cut myself for the first time. It felt scary...like I would die on accident... but then the urges became stronger each time I did it...

I hope I'm not obsessed with doing it...?

I've been wearing longer sleeves to hide this from Tess, I don't want her to worry about me. Neither should anyone else. Ever.

~~ FEB 16, 2021 ~~

Tess came over on Valentines day to give me some groceries she got for me. She gave me some candy, shyly of course. I keep forgetting how important she is to me. I'd literally die for her.

I think she'd break off our friendship if she ever found out what I'm doing behind closed doors...

~~ FEB 23, 2021 ~~

I think I'm going to far...I literally had to fucking do it while she was over, huh? Good thing I did it in the privacy of my own bathroom.

My cover almost got blown when she found some blood droplets on the floor. I ended up coming up with a "shaving accident".

I need to be more careful or else our friendship will be ruined.

~~ MAR 8, 2021 ~~

Yesterday was my 19th birthday, Tess took me to a nice dinner a couple miles out of town, it felt cozy in there with all this snow pounding down where we both live.

She tried her best to make it a really good birthday, and it payed off.

I don't think I cut myself at all that day...which is a first...

~~ MAR 20, 2021 ~~

I feel very bad for Tess...she's wasting her hard earned money on someone as hopeless as myself. Of course...she's stable enough to get me things but...why me of all people...?

~~ APR 9, 2021 ~~

This whole fucking thing was my fault. I can sense it. I didn't notice jack shit. I didn't realize she was suffering this badly.

I want to join her, but what will Tess think...she'll have no one to turn to when she needs someone.

~~ APR 18, 2021 ~~

I'm going to fucking snap. Just take my soul away, whatever is in control of my miserable life.

I've got no choice, if you're reading this, Tess, then I'm long gone from this hell we call life.

I'll stage it as an accident if I fucking have too.

~~ APR 22, 2021 ~~

I just came back from the hospital 7 hours ago. I was admitted on the 19th. I don't want to get into details. I'm not sure if I even can. I don't really remember what happened, but from what I've heard, I intentionally cut too deep.

Tess got worried when I didn't show up to work, so she rushed over to my place. There I was, bleeding on my bed, about to die. She held and comforted me until help arrived.

Jesus...what the fuck was I thinking? If I did end up pulling it off, she would've seen me; dead. Just like how I found my mother. Dead in her bed, the gun still in her hand.

And then what? Would she get depressed too? Would she spiral out just like how I did? I'm so fucking stupid.

Tess now knows that I had a self-harming issue. I now realize that I somehow convinced myself that she'd hate me for doing that. But she doesn't. Of course she doesn't.

She made me promise to not do it ever again, or at least not as often as I used to. The urge is still there, begging for release. Every time I look at that knife though...I can't help but think: "This thing nearly killed me."

It hurts so much, but I have to stay strong for Tess.

I'm ending these fucking journals, it makes me sick reading past entries.

[cherryeol04]

Action! | Ch 9

Genre: Humor, Romance, Slice of life?, Crackheadedness

Pairings: BaekRen, MinRon

Work Count: 2.5K

Summary:  From the moment he was casted, Ren wasn't sure if he had what it would take to be a pop idol. Losing faith in himself, he was going to give up the future he had always wanted, but one person stood by his side and renewed his faith. After a hot debut and rapid growth of stardom, Ren started to notice that maybe this person, his close friend, was something more. But how could a straight man even remotely think of a homosexual relationship?

Warnings: Homophobia, some smut (chapters will be marked)

A/N: I wrote this series back in 2012 and used OCs and over the top writing style for arguments. Whoops. Lmao it’s pretty decent though, so I hope you enjoy!

↶Previous     Next↷

Ren’s POV

I felt so bad and I don’t know how many times I apologized to Minhyun. I hadn’t thought that so soon after our talk, he would confront JR on his take on homosexuality. I thought for sure he would wait a while, that he would need more time to think over how to approach the subject. Apparently, all it took was a single book.

I hadn’t been there to give the other support. Instead, I was out playing ball with Baekho and Aron and I beat them both. Minhyun cried most of the day and it was well into the evening time before the three of us had gotten back. When JR told me that Minhyun had been in his room all night and after learning what they had talked about, I knew instantly and I was there for him. I never left his side that night.

It was pretty clear, from both JR’s rendition of the conversation and what Minhyun said, that JR was okay with someone being gay so long as he didn’t have to know about it and that he certainly wasn’t gay himself. It had been upsetting for Minhyun and all night all I heard was how hard it was going to be to work with him. Hearing how much Minhyun was just going to leave the group because he was sure he wasn’t going to be able to get through this.

But he had me, and he knew he did. I spent all night in his room, talking with him, comforting him and assuring him that he would get over it. Though it hurt now, and I knew how much being heartbroken hurt, he would get over it eventually. Not right away obviously, because he needed time to mourn this loss, but he would eventually move on and find someone else.

Maybe Aron if I could help it. Aron-hyung liked Minhyun a lot. And now that JR was out of the picture, not that he was really in the picture to begin with, maybe I could work something out with getting them together. But that would later, after Minhyun’s heart had healed some.

~*~*~

Minhyun’s POV

I felt so alone, lying in my bed crying. I don’t know how long I had been in there, but the light had been dying down for some time now, darkness blanketing me. It suited the mood, the darkness. It wrapped me up in its comforting embrace, hiding me from the world. It allowed me to express my feelings without fear of getting caught. Not that it mattered. I don’t think Jonghyun would have come to check on me as it was.

Sometime had passed when my door suddenly opened, the light from the hall streaming in, alerting me to the presence. Lifting my head, I turned and stared at the figure for a long, hard moment.

“Minhyun.” It moved, stepping in and closing the door. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t long before the other was at my bed and I sat up, wrapping my arms around the small frame. I was so happy, so relieved that finally Minki was home, and was there for me, to hold me. It was such a relief to finally have this comfort from the one person I knew I could count on no matter what. It seemed odd, to be relying on my maknae so much, but I couldn’t help it, and I don’t think he minded that much.

Fresh tears fell from my eyes as I replayed the conversation to the other, though Minki said he had even talked to Jonghyun before coming in. I had expected to just cry myself to sleep, for Minki to tuck me in and then leave. But he didn’t. I did cry myself to sleep, he did tuck me in, but he didn’t leave. He laid down next to me; he held me and stayed with me. I was so thankful for that, especially when I woke during the night, crying. During those times, we spent time talking about things and just keeping each other company. I never felt like I was burdening the other with this problem. He sat there, listening intently and was so understanding and kind. If only I had feelings for Minki like I did Jonghyun, and if only Minki was gay like me. I think maybe, in an odd way, we would have been a happy couple.

I don’t know how late we were up, but it was early morning before I finally laid back down, calm and went to sleep. It was a dreamless sleep, but restful. When morning came though, and I stepped out with Minki to get breakfast, the horrible feelings from the night before came rushing back at the simple sight of Jonghyun. I felt Minki take my hand, squeeze it for reassurance and whisper encouragement. I would survive this; I would eventually get over the other and move on. There is no point in crying over a relationship that never would have happened in the first place.

Taking a breath, I collected myself and joined the others at the table. It was hard, but I even managed a smile or two. It hurt and I’m sure it would hurt for a long while, but I knew I was taking a step in the right direction.

~*~*~

Baekho’s POV

I don’t know what was going on, but something was definitely different about everyone. Well maybe not everyone. I know nothing was different about me. Aron-hyung, well I knew what was different about him. It was the other three members that I was confused on. The night before, I overheard parts of the conversation JR had with Ren, but I couldn’t really make heads or tails of what was going on. Whatever it was though, it had something to do with Minhyun, who looked very depressed, despite trying to engage with others and make jokes.

Minhyun…was different.

“What the hell is going on?” Aron leaned over and whispered to me.  Looking at him, I shrugged. I was just as lost as he was. We sat in our stools, watching the three squabble over who got to sit in what seat and why.

“Baekho hyung.” Minhyun said. “Sit down here with JR and Ren.” He said as he practically pushed me out of my seat. What the hell was that for? Grunting, I dusted myself off before taking a seat next to JR, who looked just as confused as I did. On the other side of him, Ren was staring at Minhyun worriedly. Why?

Oh right! Damn I nearly forgot. Minhyun liked JR. What was he, like five? It was plainly obvious you liked someone when you didn’t want to sit next to him. Or maybe it wasn’t? I wasn’t sure, but it was obvious to me. Minhyun better be careful so he’s not caught on camera.

“Alright, you’re on in five.” The producer called. This interview was an important one. It was going to help us promote our activities and our first mini album. Everything had to go smoothly. I just hoped they didn’t ask questions that would put any of us on the spot.

~*~*~

Aron’s POV

JR and Minhyun were acting like little children and Ren certainly wasn’t helping the situation. It was normal for JR to be childish and for Ren to get in on the act, being the maknae and all. But for Minhyun to act that way, it was strange. He wasn’t the parental type, but he wasn’t the overly adorable, playful maknae type either. He was in the middle. A combination of both really. He could be both level headed, but at the same time, knew how to joke and have fun. That’s what I really liked about the other, was his ability to do so.

I asked Baekho what was going on, but he was just as lost as me. And from the look on our leader’s face, he was lost too. It seemed whatever was going on, only Minhyun and Ren knew. It had something to do with whatever happened last night. I know I wasn’t the only one that noticed that Ren went into Minhyun’s room and didn’t come out till the next morning. I’ll admit, I was jealous the other could get so close to Minnie like that, but I knew nothing was going on. Ren wasn’t gay. He spent most of his time trying to prove his manliness. But I learned once in school that those who tried overly hard to prove they are something usually were what they are trying to prove they’re not. In less confusing terms, Ren was really gay but didn’t know it.  This was something I could see happening. He was cute, adorable, and feminine; it would be wrong if he wasn’t gay or at least bisexual.

I watched as Minhyun pushed Baekho out of his seat and took the spot up. Poor Baekho, being treated so horribly, not that I felt that bad. Sometimes…he deserved it. Looking back at Minhyun, I leaned over and nudged him. “What’s going on?”

He turned and stared at me before shrugging. His attention turned back to the front, his face was emotionless. It was disturbing. This wasn’t my Minnie, the playful, level-headed idol I’ve been training with for a year or better. This was someone else and I didn’t like it. I wanted to ask more, to press this issue, but the interview started. It was important we all worked hard to stay on track, not goof off and promote our activities. Though we had a fan base already, we needed a bigger one. More fans meant more money, more fame. More fans meant more work, which meant we could spend more time together as a group. Fame and money was good, but my friends, this group meant more to me. Minhyun meant more to me. I had to do my best!

~*~*~

Ren’s POV

I’m not sure what the hell happened, but it had my head spinning and pounding at the same time. I was never so thankful for an interview to start than at that moment in time. Everyone was settled and quiet as JR did most of the talking. The tension though was there and everyone felt. Skinship actually seemed to be a forced interaction between the members this time around and I took notice, and I’m sure the others did too, that Minhyun purposefully kept from having to do any sort of skinship with Jonghyun.

“Face is a song targeted towards the hardships that all teenagers go through when in school.” JR said. “It’s something that we felt as a group, should be brought to light and addressed by parents.” He said.

“Ren, there’s a part in the song where Minhyun comes and pushes you. Tell us your feelings behind that scene.” The interviewer asked.

I stared at the woman, my head nodding slowly as I thought about the question. “Well…to be honest, when the members first learned the choreography, I had been absent because of a cold.” I said. “So I didn’t know that part existed. So as I gradually learned the steps, when the second verse started and Minhyun-hyung came up and pushed me, I was a bit hurt.”  I said.

“Don’t lie.” Baekho said and I turned to stare at him. He was grinning. “Ren got violent first and went to push him back.”

I blushed and turned back to the camera. I forgot about that part. I had gotten violent. “Ah, right.” I said and laughed softly. “But I felt hurt and that’s why I got violent.” I covered. “But then they explained to me that it was part of the dance, and I apologized.” I said. I thought for a moment more on what to say.

“That scene is very powerful.” I added. “Because it’s talking about a friend promising not to say rude things to another friend, and then turns around and pushes him while saying something mean. I think it’s something that most of us can relate to.” The other members nodded in agreement with me.

“Aron, your main parts are rapping and at the end of the song, you rap in such perfect English. It’s known that you’re Korean-American. When you came over from America, did you know any Korean, and if not, who was the biggest help to you?” the interviewer asked.

“Ah, when I came over, I didn’t know a single word of Korean. Actually, I remember when I first met Ren; I tried talking to him and he just stared at me funny.” He said and I laughed. I still remember that day, sitting next to him on the couch. I thought he was slow too. I still want to know whose idea it was to let a non-Korean speaking Korean to be a trainee before even learning the language.

“The person who was the biggest help to me was Baekho. He didn’t teach me so much as the words, but how to speak. Being polite and the culture. In America, you really don’t show a lot of respect to kids who are older than you. You always show respect to your elders, but it’s different. This was certainly a culture shock to me, but I was able to pull through and learn quickly thanks to his help.”

Baekho, help? Was that the reason why it took him a few months to even call me? I never heard that one before. Nonetheless, I suppose that’s where Aron picked up his mannerisms. The interview continued on for another half an hour with different questions being asked. When it finally ended, sighs of relief left us all. I nearly fell when I stood, my legs numb from being in one position for such a long time.

“Careful.” JR said as he caught me, helping to balance me until I got the feeling back in my legs.

“Thanks.” I said and smiled at him. Over his shoulder, I could see Minhyun watching before he turned to leave. I wanted to smack myself. Stepping back, I thanked JR once more before starting for the dressing room when I felt a hand grab my arm.

Turning, I stared back at Baekho. He had that look in his eyes and I wanted to run. But at the same time, I knew that we had to talk. Either Baekho had figured out what was going on, or he was going to ask me what was going on (which I wouldn’t be surprised one bit about. He was still a dense smiling clown).

“We need to talk.” He said and looked around. “Privately.”

Nodding in agreement, he released my arm and I followed him to the restroom. Not the most ideal place to have a private conversation, but it was better than any. The members were going to be changing and getting ready to leave. We had a limited amount of time, but whatever it was that we needed to talk about, I knew we could get it all worked out before someone came looking for us. At least…I hoped.

[beyourownanchor6]

so we can get to the fun part

my fingers slipped and i accidentally wrote another coda to 5x17 instead of working on any of my wips 🙃

rated g | words: 1.7k

—

Eddie had finally gotten Chris tucked into bed when his phone began to buzz, the all too familiar picture of Buck and Chris lighting up his phone, the one they’d taken and sent to him on one of their many zoo trips.

He smiles down to his phone as he accepts the facetime call, laying back on the bed in his parents’ spare bedroom.

 “Hey Buck.”

It was late, though Buck seemed wide awake, something like pain flashing across his face before it was replaced with a smile, his blues beaming to something off camera. Eddie raises a brow as Buck flips the camera, displaying a sleeping Jee-Yun over his lap; Eddie commits the image to memory instantly.

“We’re having a sleepover.”

Eddie has to admit that he’s a little jealous, though he’s glad to see his best friend safe after everything that happened, tucked in with his favorite niece for the night.

 Buck had texted him a series of messages earlier, giving him the rundown about Jonah and what had gone down; it made him sick. Eddie hated that he couldn’t be there with his teammates, his family, but he was where he needed to be for the moment.

“How’s everyone doing?”

“Hen and Chim checked out ok, but they wanna keep them overnight to make sure. Maddie said she’s gonna stay with him for the night.”

With the camera still on Jee, Eddie can see as Buck runs his fingers through her hair, brushing the stray pieces off her face. Eddie gets lost on the sight, almost forgetting they were having a conversation until Buck’s face fills the screen once more.

“So, how’s everything going there?”

“Better than I thought it would’ve actually.”

Buck nods, though he still seems far away, his gaze not quite meeting Eddie’s like it usually does, even through a screen.

“That’s good Eds. Guessing you and your dad were able to talk?”

“Yea, we uh, I think we’re gonna be ok.”

His relationship with his father wouldn’t change overnight, though they’d made more progress than they had in years, so that was something.

 “I’m glad. You look lighter Eds. You’ve been smiling more again.”

Was he?

“Yea, I um, I’ve been feeling a little more myself lately.”

They don’t say anything for a while, Eddie watching as Buck changes expressions several times, the camera shifting as he fidgets with his fingers beyond the screen.

“Hey, you know you can talk to me, right? I mean, if something’s bothering you?”

Buck does look to the screen then, those blues of his a little darkened.

“I—it’s nothing. Everything’s good here Eds. Just tired.”

Eddie doesn’t buy it for a second; Buck’s a terrible liar, especially with the way Eddie can read him, almost better than himself.

 “If you don’t tell me now, I’ll just have to fly home tonight and get it out of you in person.”

Bucks face softens again, his hand bringing the phone closer to his face on instinct.

“You would do that?”

He would; he wished Buck understood that without having to ask.

“Of course, you’re my best friend, Buck. Tell me what’s going on.”

Eddie doesn’t add that Buck means so much more to him than that; that’s for another night, preferably one when they’re not thousands of miles apart. Buck sighs dejectedly, biting at his lip before answering.

“She promised. She-she promised, but she did it anyway.”

Eddie doesn’t have to ask to know he’s talking about Taylor.

“What did Taylor promise?”

Buck scrubs a hand over his face, sitting up a little, making sure not to jostle Jee who’s still soundly resting over his chest.

“Hen and Chim came over to talk about Jonah…asking if Taylor could help them find some footage. It was supposed to be off the record, but I found her looking into it later and talking to someone on the phone about it. She-she promised me Eds, but I saw her on the news tonight talking about it anyway.”

Eddie has no idea what facial expression he makes, though he tries to keep his tone neutral; it wasn’t exactly a secret that he wasn’t Taylor’s biggest fan, and not just because she was Buck’s girlfriend—Taylor had given him plenty of reasons over the years.

“I’m sorry Buck, that’s shitty. She shouldn’t have violated any of your guy’s trust like that. I can’t say I’m surprised though.”

“Yea, me either.”

And Eddie—wasn’t expecting Buck to agree with him.

 “Did something else happen?”

Buck’s shoulders rise and fall as he lets out another heavy breath, fingers picking at some invisible lint on his hoodie.

“Well, I don’t think anyone’s forgotten about how we first met her, with those brownies and all, but she just—she always chooses work, her stories, over anything, no matter who she hurts in the process. All she cares about is having the ‘best’ story and getting the coverage out there first.”

That had become abundantly clear to Eddie over the years, though he didn’t know Buck had been taking note of it as well.

“Have you talked to her about it, about tonight?”

“She was still reporting when I called her, so I left her a voicemail. I—I’m just so angry Eds.”

Eddie knows Buck’s more upset with himself than Taylor; Buck always blames himself.

“Hey, you’re allowed to be angry Buck. What she did is wrong. She only had that information because of her tie to you, and she gave you her word she wouldn’t use it.”

Buck’s head slumps back against the couch then, his hand moving to rub over his eyes.

“She’s probably punishing me.”

“What the hell would she be punishing you for?”

“Because I kissed Lucy.”

Oh yea, that.

“Well from what you told me, she didn’t seem all that upset about it. I mean she could’ve left Buck, but she chose to stay.”

“Yea well I didn’t really give her much of a choice since I asked her to move in and she dropped her lease.”

Yea, Buck had definitely over compensated with that one, but again, Taylor chose to stay.

“You fucked up Buck. That doesn’t make it right for her to turn around and do this, especially when it doesn’t just affect you. I think we both know that Taylor wanted that story, and she was going to sabotage anyone to have it, even you.” Buck rubs at his eyes. Eddie can see the way they’ve turned glassy, Buck refusing to meet Eddie’s gaze.

“Can we—how’s Chris, and Abuela?”

Eddie knows it’s a deflection, an easy way out, one he gives Buck because he hates to see him in pain, especially when he can’t be there physically.

“Well, Abuela made tamales.”

 That instantly gets a smile from Buck, one Eddie is all too happy to see. They talk for a while longer, avoiding any topics that are too heavy, Eddie watching as Buck’s eyelids droop further and further, his soft sleep sounds eventually coming through Eddie’s speaker; if Eddie takes a screenshot that’s all too adorable, well, that’s his business. ~

It’s not until later the next week that Eddie sees Buck again.

  He’d gotten back from El Paso a few days after their conversation, Buck on shift the next couple.

  They were working together in Eddie’s room, patching up the holes so that the walls could be re-painted. Eddie would be lying if he didn’t still feel shameful about that night, but he was working on it. He was working on letting people in, Buck being one at the top of that list.

 “I broke up with Taylor.”

Eddie nearly drops the paintbrush in his hand, staring over to Buck with wide eyes.

“Are you ok?”

Buck seems surprised by his answer, though he continues on with his painting.

“Yea. I just, it hadn’t really been working out for a while, you know?”

Yes, Eddie had been able to come to that conclusion years ago, though he’d been too afraid to mention those observations to Buck.

 “How um—do you wanna talk about it?”

One thing Eddie had learned over the years with Buck was not to push; he would open up when he was ready.

Buck pauses his movements, shrugging his shoulders.

“She was upset, but eventually agreed with me. I told her she could keep the loft.”

“Are you gonna try and find a place with Maddie?”

Buck sets the tray and brush down then, finally looking over at Eddie.

“No, I um, she said she really needs to focus on herself right now, so I don’t wanna get in the way of that.”

“Yea, that-that makes sense.”

Eddie wants to offer his place, he does, but he doesn’t want Buck to feel obligated.

Buck looks down to the floor, his hands fidgeting as he finally looks back up to Eddie.

“I was wondering if um, if maybe I could stay here for a while, with-with you and Chris?”

When Eddie doesn’t immediately answer, Buck tags on, “I mean you can say no, I can uh, always find somewhere else, or—”

“Buck, of course you can stay with us. You don’t even have to ask.”

Buck does that little head duck, the one that’s all too adorable, smiling softly over to Eddie.

“You uh, you won’t mind my snoring?”

Eddie lets out a laugh, one that has Buck smiling brighter.

“Not as long as you don’t mind me having a mental breakdown in the middle of the night.”

Buck’s gaze turns serious then.

“I’ll always be here Eds, no matter what.”

 Why couldn’t Buck have said one of his ridiculous random facts instead of getting all sappy on him?

“Or you know, I could-I could be there for you.”

There. Two can play at that game.

A bashful smile creeps over Buck’s face, one that has his cheeks tinging red.

“C’mon partner, lets’ finish these walls so we can get to the fun part.”

Eddie easily agrees, picking up where they left off, the two of them working in sync as always.

They work on the room little by little, putting it back together, everything falling right into place. Everything fit together perfectly; the bed, their legs tangled together beneath the covers, Buck’s lips over his, just—everything.

As it turns out, ‘the fun part’ ends up being Eddie’s favorite step, Buck’s too. It was like having a sleepover of their own every night, one Eddie never wants to end.

tagging squad below, lmk if you wanna be added or removed <3

tags: @buddiextarlos @swiftiediaz @mansikkaomenabanaani @confetti-cupcake @chimneymisteraprilhan @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @loveyourownsmiilee @corgiqueen14 @justsmilestuffhappens @prettyboyandthekid @honestlydarkprincess @zainclaw @reallysmartladymariecurie @djdangerlove @constructiononsunset @love-buddie @bifirefighters @perfectlynervousbeard @blaidddrwg1982 @buddierights

[littlefreya]

Hello! I was wondering if you knew if anyone had written something about the TikTok leggings but with Sy? I need to see Sy’s reaction to those!! 🥴

Summary: Ever since your dear husband Syverson got back from his deployment he’s been way too busy to pay you any attention so you decide to try and draw him by force. 

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader (No description of ethnicity or body type though long legs are mentioned)

Word count: 1,5k 

Warnings: 18+, Fluff to smut. Slight Dad!Sy, teasing, kitchen sex, light ass smacking, banter, groping, slight fingering, dirty talk, grinding, cockwarming.  I give no permission to repost, copy my work or parts of it. 

A/N: Hey lovely, not sure if anyone wrote it with Sy. @crimsonrae​​ wrote something with leggings for Henry but since you asked and tickled my inspiration I went ahead and wrote it for you. Many thanks to my goddess @agniavateira​ who beta’d my work!

Bring it On 

It's been a long, excruciating while since you and Sy had a moment to yourselves.

Ever since he returned from his last deployment, all he seemed to care about was building that farmhouse he promised you nearly four years ago. If that wasn't enough, your humble little home was constantly overrun by the screaming munchkins who were on their summer vacation.

Never in your life have you been so deprived. 

Syverson was naturally a decent hands-on father: chasing the kids around, making sure they finished their dinner, reminding them to take their bath, and then tucking them to sleep. But, unfortunately, by the time he crawled onto bed, he was so exhausted that he fell asleep before you could even reach a wandering hand to sense the warm muscles of his back.  

There you were, lying next to one of the most attractive men in the world and not getting any of it. 

It was time to pull out the big guns. 

When your best friend first suggested that you’ll order the infamous pair of leggings, you were skeptical. Two pregnancies made no difference to Sy; he loved your body as it is, and you wanted to believe that your ass still looked great regardless of what you wore. You had serious doubts about a pair of tights changing anything but still went ahead and ordered a red pair, knowing it was your husband's favourite colour. 

One look at the mirror made your jaw drop. 

"I'd fuck me," you said and playfully smacked your own rear, marvelling the sight of how juicy it appeared in those tight, fiery leggings. 

Syverson was still running around getting the weekly groceries along with the kids while you stood by the kitchen counter and chopped carrots and fresh leeks for dinner. Being so focused on your labour and the true-crime podcast you've been listening to during preparations, you've already forgotten that you had your unique leggings on.

They were extremely comfortable, after all. 

"Woman?" Sy's roar thundered through the house, followed by the squeals of your children as they spilled through the main door. 

"In the kitchen!" You called back as you threw the chopped vegetables into the large simmering pot. 

Holding two large paper bags of groceries, Sy marched into the kitchen. He opened his mouth to greet you, but the words soon died on his tongue at the sight of your rump looking extra bodacious. 

Not realising he was standing by the doorframe wide-eyed and smitten, you crouched down to open the oven.

"Kids, go play with the neighbours!" 

His sudden urgent command made you jump with a startle. Bemused, you turned around to stare, realising that his eyes were fixated on your ass. Quickly, you remembered the garment that covered your bottom; while you wanted to chuckle with amusement, you smiled seductively instead and crouched again to check on the oven.

"But Dad..." one of the kids whined, trying to enter the kitchen as Sy blocked the entrance with his beefy arm. 

"I ain't repeatin' myself, son," Syverson retorted and closed the door as both kids mumbled something and made their way to the main entrance. 

Remaining silent, he followed you with his eyes, watching you move around the kitchen, clattering pots and pans and checking the recipe on your phone. You pretended as if you didn't realise his eyes were devouring you piece by piece when in fact, you could feel the heat of his demanding gaze burning into your nape. 

That same warmth has begun to permeate through your chest and warm your inner thighs with anticipation. The air became tense, almost as if the two of you never had sex before and now courted one another in some unspeakable primal gyrate.  

For a heavy man, Syverson sure sauntered quietly—a skill he learned in the military, no doubt. Holding his breath, he snuck behind you and then swatted his hand over your ass with all his might. 

Feeling the sting spread hot through your jiggling flesh, you jolted with a yelp. "Sy!!!" 

You had no chance to turn and face him as the Captain had already pressed his fervent body into yours, urging you against the counter so you could feel his hardness; hefty and hungrily grinding between your cheeks.

"You think you can walk around wearin' somethin' hot like this and not have me want a piece of that ass?" Sy huffed against your hair and massaged the cheek he smacked just a second ago. "What are those? Some special yoga pants?"

Your throat seemed to have gone completely dry while your panties soaked at the sensation of his cock throbbing and rubbing against you. It's been months since you felt him inside you and for a moment there, you felt like a coy virgin, about to be unveiled for the first time.

Panting slightly, you swallowed and licked your lips, your fingers clutching onto the counter's edge.

"Something like that," you responded, "do you like 'em?"

Still kneading your rump, Sy took a gander and then squeezed you possessively, pulling a surprised moan from your clenching throat. 

"Hmm... I'd like to see my cock slidin' between these cheeks, kitten," he growled. And with that, his fingertips traced the hive-like pattern of the fabric, circling your rounded pillows. 

Sighing with pleasure, you allowed yourself to fall back into the firm wall of his body, enjoying the warmth and security it provided. 

Sy was the type of man who always made you feel safe. While his skilful fingers made careful work of peeling your pants down to your thighs, you mused of how easy you found your trust again back when you just found one another a lifetime ago; he treated your body with respect and admiration even when he fucked you like nothing but a piece of raw meat.

Coarse as his hand was, he gently slid it between your petals, collecting the warm dew that gathered there while growling in your ear.

“Is that for me?” he asked and ground himself a little harder. 

He was so hard, you could feel the outlines of his enormous cock through the thin fabric of his shorts—every ridge, every vein, and every bulging tendon, begging to be let in inside your warm cavern.

Boldly, you reached a hand behind him and urged him to pull his trousers down. “It’s only for you. Please baby, it’s been so long!”

Never been one to let his lady down, Sy fulfilled your request. With a soft whoosh, his pants were piled at his ankles, letting his hot meaty cock spring free and press between the cleft of your ass. Almost embarrassed by the lazy drizzle that dripped between your swollen lips, you whimpered impatiently, a part of you revelling at the softness of his skin against yours while the other was about to scream in frustration.

Yet Sy seemed to be in a mood for wicked games, moving his cock back and forth, teasing both your puckered ring and your soaked entrance.

“Sy, I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me now...”

A low chuckle burst from his lips. You were ready to assail him with another complaint when finally, you felt the forceful shove of his fleshy tip into the seams of your cunt. Incredibly slow, he invaded your body, making you squeal as every ridge of his pulsating rod stretched your taut walls to accommodate his size.

The kitchen rejoiced in the duet of moans and growls of your sinful union. Almost unable to take so much pleasure you leaned forward, shoving your ass into his hips to provide better passage. 

“Are you getting the attention you longed for now, kitten?” Sy asked as he stuffed you completely. His large hand shifted to your belly, feeling the soft swell. Playfully he pulled back slightly and then pushed in, relishing as he felt himself swerve inside you.   

“Oh my God!” You cried, your long legs almost leaving the ground. If Sy hadn’t been holding you close, you would have been down on the floor by now.

“Fuck me, Captain!” You commanded. 

“Tut, tut,” Sy grazed his bearded chin at the supple skin of your neck. His large paw held your pelvis in place, restraining your squirming body. 

“All this time away from you in the dry unforgiving desert, all I was thinkin’ about was bein' deep inside your wet little pussy, kitten. So do excuse me, but I’ll be taking my time.”

With that he stilled, resting his cheek on the crook between your shoulder and your neck. 

“Sy!” You protested, convulsing your walls around his girth in frustration to no avail. For a hot-headed bull, Sy had the patience of a sturdy old oak.

“The more you struggle the more you’ll have to wait,” he warned as he reached for the kitchen knife and chopping board. 

“How do you say we finish makin' dinner and then maybe I’ll finish you off…”

As vexed as you were, you took a deep breath. With a smile creeping on your lips, you tightened your canal around him and milked around his cock, making him twitch in response.

“Two can play that game, Captain Logan Francis Syverson.” You taunted.

Sy growled and pressed slightly more into you until you felt his sack graze your delicate, engorged flesh. 

“Bring it on, kitten.” 

Credits: dividers by @firefly-graphics.

I do not own Captain Syverson or Sand Castle or the TikTok Trend.

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons.  Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie. 

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.  

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.  

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.  

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth. 

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”  

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders. 

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink. 

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list. 

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.  

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.” 

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter. 

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms  across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart. 

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly? 

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.   

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist. 

Bliss. 

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag  Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.  

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip. 

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare. 

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.” 

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.  

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.  

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

 He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens. 

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.  

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.  

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining. 

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers. 

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine. 

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut. 

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon? 

It’s worth the mess.     

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener. 

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.  

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display. 

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging. 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.  

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor. 

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.  

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department. 

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down. 

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally. 

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.   

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.” 

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace. 

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.  

It always does the trick.

***

[starfinss]

Just Hold Me — Xiao

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Summary: You wake up from a nightmare and find comfort in the resident Adeptus of Wangshu Inn.

Pairing: Xiao x Reader

Rating: SFW (Fluff, though there are some very mild innuendos.)

Word Count: 741

aka, Starry can’t sleep so she wrote this at one in the morning instead of trying to sleep. Also, this takes place in the same universe as my previous two-shot Xiao fic.

It was dark and stormy and all your blankets were on the floor when you woke with a start, leaving you cold and vulnerable to the biting night air. You shook off the dregs of your nightmare as you scooped the bedclothes up in your arms and arranged them around your body once more, pulling them up to your chin.

You felt movement behind you as the bed’s other occupant shifted, followed by a soft sigh. You felt yourself relax, and you rolled over, leaning into your love’s warmth, letting it engulf and comfort you.

“What troubles you?”

Xiao’s voice came as surprise, and you jumped slightly. You felt his arms encircle your waist, pulling you against his chest and tucking your head beneath his chin. His warmth was like home to you, and your hands rose to rest on his chest, fingers gently knotting into the fabric of his shirt. You felt his mouth press against the crown of your head, a display of affection that made your heart flutter.

“Nothing,” you said, “a nightmare.”

“I am no stranger to those,” Xiao said, voice low and soft, “it is why I avoid sleep. But you make it much more bearable.”

You felt your mouth quick up in a smile at his tender words, your cheeks warming as you let your eyes slip closed. Rain was pattering on the roof in a symphony of natural sound, the thunder like the downbeat of a drum, and Xiao’s heart was beating steadily under your ear.

“I dreamt of losing you,” you said, voice small, “that you just vanished one day, and when I found you, you’d forgotten who I was.”

Xiao’s grip around your body tightened.

“That will not happen. Do I not express my adoration for you often enough?”

You blushed at the implication, a smile appearing on your face. “That isn’t what I mean, Xiao.”

You could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke. “I can always find reason more to express such fondness, (Y/N).”

“And I won’t complain if you do. I just fear losing you, that’s all.”

“I fear the same,” Xiao confessed, “to know that someone loves a creature such as myself is still something I find baffling. With my karmic dept, I–”

You wrinkled your nose. “You know I hate it when you talk about yourself like that.”

A moment of silence, and Xiao shifted, his nose burrowing into your hair. “My apologies.”

The pair of you lay in comfortable silence, listening to the rain. His heartbeat added to the pleasant ambiance, and you knew there was no place you’d rather be than in his arms.

“What can I do to assuage your worries?” Xiao asked, and you raised your head to look at him.

In his eyes, you saw the world, and he’d told you many times he saw the same in yours. He’d muttered it into your ear or against your skin or against the seam of your lips. He’d whispered that he’d give you the moon and the stars and everything in between more times than you could count, and he’d told you he’d take down Celestia if it meant he could remain by your side for eternity. Loving and being loved by an Adeptus was intense and passionate and everything that was remotely similar those things, so much so that sometimes you felt like you bored him with your trivial mortal toils. But he assured you that you did nothing of the sort.

With a smile, you leaned forward to rest your forehead against his, closing your sleepy eyes in contentment.

“Just be here when I wake up,” you said, “that’s all I need.”

“Then it shall be so,” Xiao said, “I will stay with you.”

You leaned up to kiss him, and he tilted his head to slot his mouth against yours, fingers lacing into the whisper thin hair at the nape of your neck, holding your mouths together. You cupped his cheek, smoothing your thumb over his cheekbone, tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear.

“I love you,” you said when you broke apart, and Xiao’s nose bumped against yours.

“And I love you,” he replied, eyes like liquid gold in the silver light filtering through the cracks in the curtains.

You fell asleep easily after that, and no nightmares followed. True to his word, when you woke, you were still enfolded in the arms of your Adeptus.

[ficsforeren]

more mafia eren headcanons pls 🤲

MORE??????? okay if you insist

So uhh this will be a continuation for this scene I wrote earlier

NSFW - DON'T READ IF YOU'RE BELOW 18

Eren tosses your knife to the side, making a clattering sound as it meets the floor. "Any other tricks of yours I should be aware of?" His voice is soothing in your ear but the gun he points to your neck is anything but.

You struggle to break free. "Get your hands off me."

"Fine," he huffs, drawing back from you. "I guess I'll just have to investigate it myself."

He pushes you forward until you're pressed flat against the wall, his gun pointing at the spot between your shoulder blades. "Arms above your head, Sweetheart," he says but his tone is merciless. "One wrong move and I'll shoot a hole through your chest."

Your breathing rags, raising both hands as he asked you to. "Good girl," he coos and it makes you sick. You can feel his hand sliding down your body, following the curve of your ass before it slips behind the high slit of your red maxi dress. He reaches between your legs, making you jolt when his fingers glide over your lingerie. "Such a cute reaction," he chuckles but he presses the point of his gun harder on your skin. "You won't be needing this." Eren rips your lingerie with one hand, casting it aside.

You're scared to your bones. Terrified. "Please stop."

He drags his hand to the front of your stomach, pulling you closer until you can feel his zipper grazing against your behind. "And what if I don't?"

But he stops once he feels you shuddering in fear. He turns you around and lifts your face by pushing his gun to your chin. His eyes find your glassy ones and even when you're glaring with so much hatred in your eyes, you're trying your best not to cry. Even if it means that you have to bite your lip until it bleeds. He smiles, reaching out a hand and you close your eyes in reflex but what he does is frames your cheek gently. "As much as I like seeing my women cry in bed," he says, "I'm not a rapist."

You thought he was going to murder you instead so when he draws his gun away and tucks it back into the pocket of his suit, you nearly weep in relief. "It's been fun, Sweetheart," he bids his goodbye as you slide down to the floor, knees trembling. "I look forward to seeing you again." And he shuts the bathroom door behind him.

He could've killed you, but he didn't. He should've been, knowing you were out there to kill him, but he didn't. And now you owe him your life.

Sick of having that thought for days, you decide to visit him again.

Eren is lying down on a bed of an overly-priced suite with his black suit discarded, his gun lying on the floor and his white shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest when you slip through his door.

"Your lady won't be coming back," you tell him, dressed in a red trench coat that perfectly hugs your body. Eren props himself up with his elbows on the bed, his smirk naturally finds its way to his face. His gun is close enough for him to reach. He just decides not to.

Even in the dimness of the room, you can still see the bulge that's concealed by the silk fabric of his pants. There are lipstick stains on his shirt, and some on the side of his neck.

“Well, that’s unfortunate," he says, not surprised in the slightest. "I'd spent a good amount of money to rent her for the night. Heterochromatic eyes. Very rare.”

"You've got a peculiar taste in women."

“Yeah, looks better on camera.” He shifts his weight, sitting on the edge of the bed. His hair is no longer tied, cascading to his shoulders and framing his cheekbones perfectly. “How many of my guards did you take down to get in here?”

“Three. You know, you should’ve considered hiring bodyguards that are stronger than you.”

“Yeah, you couldn’t even lift a finger against me." He chuckles at the memory. "Well I used to have Levi, but he quits for good.” He takes a cigarette from the pocket of his suit. “Did you kill them?”

“No. I didn’t want to leave dead bodies in such a nice hotel like this.”

“How very thoughtful of you.” He tucks the cigar between his teeth, lighting it up.

“I wouldn’t mind if it was yours, though," you add. "If anyone should die tonight, it should be you.”

“But you can’t kill me." His eyes twinkle mischievously as he leans back and takes a long drag. "So, what are you planning to do?”

"Why didn't you kill me?"

"'Cause you're cute." He brings his cigar to his lips, smirking as he continues, "And I kinda like your face. Wouldn't hate to see it again."

"You should've killed me. Now I feel like I owe you my life."

"You do." He flicks the ashes off. "So, I'm guessing you're here to repay me?" You stay mute but your eyes tell him the answer he wants to hear. "What do you have to offer?"

"Let me join your little boyband. I can be useful to you."

He snorts. "You couldn't even put up a fight against me, why would I want you?"

Your jaw clenches. "Then what do you want me to do?"

Something flickers in his eyes at your choice of words. He takes another drag, standing up and makes his way to the balcony. "Come. The moon looks beautiful tonight." You hesitate for a few seconds before you follow his trail.

Eren leans his back against the railing, throwing his head back as he lets the wind caresses his face. He looks... beautiful, as if he didn't belong to that kind of world. His eyelashes are long, probably longer than yours and those lips—

"Strip."

"What?"

"Strip for me," he repeats, dragging his cigar closer to his lips. "Here. Now." You keep your body still, your glare menacing, though your heart starts to thrash wildly inside your chest. "You said you wanted to repay me, right?"

“I thought you said you weren’t a rapist.”

“I’m not." He exhales clouds of smoke into the air. "I’m not forcing you, am I? I’m only asking you. Whether you do it or not is up to you.”

You can't believe you just called him beautiful. He's fucking sick.

“And you also owe me an escort," he grins lightly as he tosses the rest of his cigarette away, "You’re not heterochromatic but you do have pretty eyes.”

You feel your breathing stutter as he makes his way to you. “You want me to sleep with you?”

“No." In a blink of an eye, Eren has his hand on the front of your throat, pushing you against the glassy window until you're standing on your tiptoes. Your hands are clutching tightly against his wrist, nails scratching his skin to push him away but he only smiles that fucking innocent smile of his that always seems out of place. But when he speaks, another persona takes over.

"I want to fuck you," he says the words through gritted teeth, almost like he's growling. You can feel his breath falling on your lips, can sense the aftertaste of the cigarette he just took. “I want to fuck you raw until you cry. I want to fuck you until you can’t say anything, can't think about anything but my cock inside you. I want to fuck you until you beg me to stop and when you do, I'm gonna fuck you even harder."

You're choking, your lungs starting to catch on fire. "C-can't... breathe..."

And instead of letting you go, he smashes his lips against yours, and he's so rough with his teeth and tongue that you won't be surprised if yours start to bleed. You gasp against his mouth, desperate for air and only after he's satisfied, does he let go.

Retracting his hand, Eren brings back his juvenile smile to his face, hand gently frames your cheek as he whispers in your ear. “But again," his lips brush against your skin. "It’s all up to you, Sweetheart.”

[happy-tree-friends-imagines]

Soft - (THG) Haymitch X Me

Hello again everyone. I know I’ve been gone for awhile now and I know some of you have been worried. I have to admit that I haven’t been feeling the best lately but I don’t really want to go into detail with that right now. I just feel like I need a little softness, so that’s what I’m going to write.

(And here I am… almost more than a year later, after I wrote this, finally posting it. Not that I needed to. Because these are really just for myself and for me to process all of these things going on in my own life. But if there is even one person that reads these, if there’s even one person that can relate to this… if posting this can help comfort even one more person other than myself, then it’s all worth it. But even then... I realize that I need this. But if you need it too, then go on ahead and keep reading. I hope we both find what we’re looking for...)

Enjoy~

The room was dark and just the slightest bit stuffy. It smelled like a burnt-out lavender-scented candle, it’s smoke still gently drifting throughout the room though it had been blown out hours ago. The man checked to be sure, pressing a fingerprint into the semi-hard wax, before he came to the bedside.

If he hadn’t known any better, he would have guessed that there were only blankets and pillows piled up there. But he did know better and he sat down on the edge of the bed with the utmost care he could manage, reaching a hand out to pat at the head-shaped lump tucked safely underneath the thick covers.

Haymitch gave a smile at the figure. “Hey, doll. Time to get up.” The figure didn’t move except for the constant rise and fall of where the girl’s stomach should be.

“Sky…” he called, to no response. Haymitch rolled his eyes, just barely concealing his playful scoff, and moved to gently shake her awake.

The blankets shifted slightly as the low growl of distaste for being woken up at such an hour sounded. Haymitch waited patiently, watching in amusement as the figure of a girl turned away from him beneath the covers, sending a pillow or two to the floor as she went.

“Time to get up,” he repeated.

“Why?” came the muffled groan.

Haymitch resisted rolling his eyes once more, choosing to gently poke at her sides instead. “‘Cause, doll. You need to get up. Just because there’s a pandemic going on doesn’t mean you can just lay in bed all day.”

Sky tried and failed to suppress her laugh from the attack at her sides. But even when Haymitch ceased, she still did not come out from under the covers.

“Come on,” Haymitch tried to nudge her along to no avail.

“Uh-uh,” she hummed. “I’m too tired.”

The man paused at this, eyebrows furrowing in worry. “What time did you go to bed?”

Sky gave a quiet sound that meant “I don’t know”, shifting beneath the covers once more. When he didn’t respond, she carefully drew the blankets down from her face, revealing tousled hair and squinted eyes.

His face was drawn up in worry, causing Sky to frown. Slowly, she reached her arms from beneath the covers, the chill of the early morning giving her goosebumps. Her hands came to gently grasp at his, holding onto him with a weak squeeze, as her strength had not woken yet.

“Lay with me?” she asked quietly. “Please? Just a few more minutes.” Her eyes were sad and glossy in the dim light, and Haymitch found it harder and harder not to comply with her wish.

With a last little sigh, Haymitch gave a tired smile and nodded. Sky soon found herself smiling back. She shifted backwards to give him more room next to her and practically pulled him into her.

The blankets were too soft to resist as they fell around the defeated man, hugging to him the warmth of sleep and the even warmer hands of the girl. “You’re cold,” she complained weakly, folding herself into his arms. Her head found the crook in his neck to nuzzle into, her hands intertwining with themselves behind his back, and then, tangled their legs together.

Haymitch waited for her to get comfortable before adjusting his arms around her. Carefully, gently, he placed one hand on her back, drawing slow lines up and down her form with his finger tips. He turned his other hand up from beneath her head, pulling her closer into him if that were even possible. But he could try.

They laid there within each other for what felt like an eternity. Haymitch felt his eyes growing heavy. Sky’s warmth finally flooded his own body with a comfort he didn’t think was possible from anyone else. Still, he fought sleep. Waiting.

And finally, she spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

Haymitch’s eyes flew open, glancing down at her messy blonde locks tucked beneath his chin. “What do you have to be sorry for, Doll?” His voice was barely above a whisper, trying not to scare her away. “‘Not your fault this world is all… messed up,” he chose his words carefully.

What exactly do you call this? Sickness and panic… every little thing spiraling out of control… meanwhile everyone is expected to act like it’s all okay. Sky was expected to keep everything running smoothly within her own life as well as everyone else’s. Being deathly sick for weeks on end, but thankfully, somehow not contracting the deadly virus claiming life after life outside the walls of her home. Then, being jutted into college life by herself, having no way to know what was going to happen next. Left alone with no true friends, family being hours away, stuck in a place she didn’t feel like she truly belonged. A trespasser. Being expected to pass online classes and hopefully get into vet school within the next four years or so and if not…. What was all of this for?

To make matters worse… losing another beloved pet… Buddy… the last precious thing her family had of her Uncle… it was, is, too much. Too much once again and all at once. Expectations… even though there is an entire pandemic happening, never cease to exist. The emotional and mental toll it was taking… Haymitch couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“I’m sorry I might not be the best like everyone expects me to be,” she said, “I just don’t want anyone to be disappointed in me.”

“I’m trying…” she continued, “I really am trying. Everything is everywhere and everything’s happening… I’m sorry there isn’t more I can do to help. I wish I could try harder…” She trailed off, refusing to look up at him, afraid of what his eyes would tell her when she did.  

“I just need you to hold me… just for a little bit. Just for awhile longer. Please.”

Haymitch didn’t say anything for a moment. He could feel her tensing, feel her pushing her face harder into him to keep herself from releasing all of these emotions all at once, trying her hardest to not let everything come out all at once and all together.

She had spent too long trying to be everything for everyone. When all she really wanted… all she really needed was for someone to be there for her… to offer a moment to be soft.

“Okay,” he said at last.

With a final adjustment, Haymitch leaned so he could press his lips into the crown of her head. His hand began drawing circles along her back in a soothing motion. And so he held her close.

The bed remained unmade, the blinds drawn. The sun lazily rose above the horizon, turning the few strands of light that leaked in from red to orange to a soft white color that cast themselves across the bed which once again looked as if there were only pillows and blankets piled there. And if one didn’t know better, they’d think there was nothing there at all. The quiet was welcomed. And the two slept comfortably in each other's arms for as long as they needed, for once dreaming of nothing at all, relishing in the sweet release of sweet nothings and pure softness.

“You don’t have to always be strong for everyone, Sky,” Haymitch whispered as her breaths slowed and their warmth enveloped each other.

“You are allowed to be soft~”

[nymphbnny]

perfect strangers

MINORS DNI // 18+

part one; part two; part three

genre: nsfw

pairings: jean kirschtein x female reader

word count: 2.6k

tags/warnings: penetrative sex, dom jean, fingering, praising kink, slight body worship, dirty talk, sneaky.

synopsis: your recent discovery makes you certain that you won't be able to control yourself around him and neither will he, hence you decide that it was time to make an agreement that was rather spicy.

a.n: hey babies! so i finally decided to turn this into a short series since some of you were intrigued with the idea of having a continuation for the previous part i wrote. i hope you like it, enjoy <3

“How was I supposed to know?!” I yelled as soon as Jean exited our apartment. I had put on a random t-shirt to follow Connie to his room, trying to convince him that I had no idea that I fucked his best friend.

“Y/n he literally told you his name is Jean and he was attending my party. You’re acting as you’ve never seen him before!” he scolded taking off his shirt and throwing it across his room.

“Oh for fuck’s sake Connie. The last time I saw Jean I was 16 and he didn’t look like that. He’s so fucking different now how was I supposed to know. And to be fair, he was studying abroad for I don’t know how many years, how was I supposed to know that he metamorphosed like that.” I motioned my arm out, my other hand resting on my hip.

He groaned, rubbing his temples before he looked back at me. “Look,” he spoke softly. “I don’t want to fight with you over this okay? You’re right, I should’ve told you that he was coming back. He graduated a year ago and was considering coming back to his hometown, here. Let’s just forget it all happened okay? It’s a simple misunderstanding.” I nodded, resting my head on his chest as he embraced me into a tight hug.

“Now go take a shower you reek of sex.” he snickered earning a punch on his arm. He winced rubbing his flesh, a proud smile setting on my face.

***

The week went by smoothly. I told Sasha and Hitch what happened and they both had different reactions. Hitch was gushing over the sex and Sasha on the other hand confessed that she forgot to mention that Jean was coming back to stay here. It’s okay though. We all passed it and I was working my ass off to finally graduate.

Connie was spending his days with Jean, which granted me a lot of peace and tranquility. At least, that’s what I thought.

I hadn’t spoken to Jean ever since we hooked up, figured that Connie already explained the whole situation and moved on.

Three knocks on my door broke my focus, a loud frustrated sigh leaving my lips. “What Connie!”

“Actually,” a voice on the other side of the door caught me off guard. “It’s Kirschtein. Can I come in?” A knot formed in my throat.

“Sure.” he turned the knob, slowly coming in. “Connie knows I’m here by the way.” I nodded, adjusting my seat.

“What’s up?” the tension was awkward. The tension shouldn’t even be present in the first place. But how could I not get aroused when he was wearing a black tank top showing off the tattoos on his sleeves with a pair of sweats. He looked effortlessly attractive.

“- and like I said it will never happen again. Y/n?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, yeah. Never happen again. I’m very sorry but I need to finish this assignment.” He chuckled and nodded leaving me alone with my thoughts. Did I just make him talk to himself because I was too busy checking him out?

I shook my head, assuming that whatever he said wasn’t worth my time. Time went by rather quickly and the assignment was done earlier than I expected. It was already ten pm, and I had promised the girls I was going to meet up with them for some drinks.

I picked my outfit and applied some makeup. Simple and effective. We were going to spend the night at Sasha’s so I didn’t make much effort to look hot.

The place was empty when I left and I assumed that Connie was helping Jean to rent an apartment for himself.

Sasha’s place wasn’t very far from mine. As a matter of fact, it only took me ten minutes to get there. Once I got there, the girls were already ordering pizza and picking out some movies to watch.

“Hey whores.” I greeted them, earning cheers from Hitch and Sasha. “Oh my god, Mikasa I missed you!” I rushed to the dark-haired girl who was sitting on the couch and engulfed her into a tight hug. I haven’t seen Mikasa since I moved with Connie. We used to live together, but after she and Eren got together, he wouldn’t leave her alone. So I figured it would be best if I left and lived with my brother.

“I missed you too! I looked for you everywhere at that party where were you?” she asked taking a sip of her soda. Hitch began coughing dramatically as Sasha giggled next to her. “Oh quit it.” I teased rolling my eyes.

I ended up telling her everything, her face displaying a plethora of expressions. “I mean, Jean did change I can’t argue with that. But didn’t he recognize you?”

I shrugged. “I changed too. Puberty hit me like a truck.”

“Cheers to that.” Hitch raised her cup. We laughed and talked for hours. I missed going out with them like that. Fortunately, college will be over soon and I’ll have some time for myself.

Movies were playing in the background but we paid them no mind. We ate our food and cleaned the living room, not wanting to bother Sasha with the cleaning since she was having Niccolo over tomorrow.

I glanced at the clock that was hanging above the door. I gathered my stuff and tucked them in my bag, drawing all of their eyes on me.

“Already? Come on stay longer!” Sasha whined. I smiled softly at her and shook my head.

“I can’t, I’ll see you guys soon.” I waved at them and walked out of the door.

***

“Connie! I’m ho- what are you still doing here?” I froze at the entrance, my keys still hanging from my index finger, my eyes fixated on him as he only stood in basketball shorts.

“What do you mean what am I still doing here. I moved in here remember?”

Silence. Nothing but intense and awkward silence. Moved in? Since when?

“I told you when I came into your room. Weren’t you listening to me?” I stared at him blankly, not able to explain how caught in thought I was when he came into my room. I was too busy checking him out to care about what he was trying to tell me.

“Why didn’t Connie tell me?” I closed the door and locked it slowly, my legs feeling weak, the idea of living with him and seeing him walking around like that making me weak. And extremely horny.

“He said he’d rather if I told you. You know, break the ice.” he shrugged and walked forward, his chest now a few inches apart from mine. “You changed a lot from what I remember.” he lowly said tucking my hair behind my ear.

“So did you,” I replied, staring at his lips. He licked his bottom lip and held my chin between his fingers, forcing me to maintain eye contact.

I was a sweating mess. I still couldn’t believe that this was Jean, the horse face. What kind of water did he drink, and how did he get so big? Look at those muscles-

A sudden feeling on my lips interrupted my chain of thoughts. I soon realized that he held my bottom lip between his brown ones. “Kiss me back y/n, I know you want to,” he whispered, his breath brushing up my face.

It didn’t take me long to pull him to me, crashing my lips on his. He was intoxicating in ways I couldn’t understand nor explain. I needed him close to me at the moment and I didn’t care why.

“Yo, Jean where did you my video game?!” Connie’s voice boomed from the hallway, forcing us apart. Realization slapped my face when I looked at him and saw his cocky smirk. I just kissed him, even though I promised myself I’d never do anything with him ever again.

“I’ll get it!” he yelled back, the same expression resting on his face, his back facing the hallway. “I’d apologize, but you pulled me back. Anyway, I’ll see around beautiful.” he winked and began walking towards Connie’s room, his back muscles flexing at his movements.

What am I doing with myself?

***

The atmosphere felt nice. I couldn’t sleep so instead I lied down on my bed and watched the stars from my window. I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened hours ago and how I had to sit with them and pretend as nothing happened.

Jean was certainly not the little boy he was years ago. He got more confident and a lot more handsome. He was fucking with me and I thought, why shouldn’t I fuck with him too?

After all, I know for sure he didn’t tell Connie anything. He’s too protective of me and if he knew, well let’s just say Jean would be moving out by tomorrow. He trusts him blindly and I honestly just think he doesn’t want me to hook up with him again because he’s just like him.

He likes to mess around. Not the type to stay in the morning after. But neither was I. I sighed and dragged my legs out of bed, my body following.

“Shit now I gotta pee,” I whined stomping slightly on the wooden floor. I ruffled my hair with my hand and slipped on my slippers. I was wearing Connie’s t-shirt, so it was long enough to hide my thighs.

I walked to the bathroom when suddenly a hand grabbed my arm and yanked me into the guest bedroom. My mouth was quick to be silenced by another hand as I was about to squeal.

My back collided with the wall, my hands pinned on each side of my head.

“Jean let me go.” I struggled to get out of his grasp but he kept grinning at me. “Sure.” He let go of his grasp.

I looked around to notice a towel on his bed. “I was going to take a shower but then I heard your footsteps, couldn’t let you get there before I did.” He walked away, throwing his towel over his shoulder.

“Is that all?” I cocked my eyebrow, crossing my arms. He looked me up and down before saying: “You tell me. Need anything else?”

I looked at him briefly, calculating my next move. “An agreement. Connie can’t know.”

“Fuck yeah.” he dropped his towel and stepped closer to me, holding my face with his hands as he crashed his lips on mine. I kissed him back instantly, my fingers finding their way through his hair.

His tongue slipped in, caressing mine. His hands went down my body to squeeze my ass, pulling me even closer to him. My hands traveled across his bare chest, going over his pecs and then gliding one hand down his abs, while the other sat on his shoulder.

We pulled apart, his arms going under my thighs to pull me up and sit me onto the mattress. He walked to the door, locking it before he looked back at me.

Jean crawled over my body, caging me between his arms. “Divine.” he smiled and sat up, his hands tugging at my top. I helped him take it off and threw it on his chair. I was nude underneath him. It wasn’t the first time, yet he still looked mesmerized.

He licked his lips, his fingers tracing my cunt before dipping into my entrance. I arched my back at the sudden intrusion, trying my best to remain quiet.

“I missed your little cunt.” he chuckled massaging my insides slowly. I gasped, my hand immediately covering my mouth.

He rubbed my bud with his thumb, his pace never changing. It was torturing and slow, but I knew we couldn’t make a lot of noise nor make lots of movements that could awake Connie. We had to go nice and easy.

My legs squirmed, the combination of playing my nipples and watching him touch like he does driving me to the edge. My eyes rolled to the back as he added a third finger, my walls clenching tightly around them as I felt myself orgasm around them. “Good girl.” he praised with a chuckle, removing his fingers from my opening.

“Suck your juices off come on.” he tapped my hand, motioning me to remove it and take his fingers in. I stuck my tongue out, his ling digits finding their way down my throat making me slightly gag. “I didn’t know you were such an obedient girl.” he cooed, as I sucked off my arousal.

Jean sat back up, removing his shorts along with his briefs, his erection slapping on my lower stomach. “As much as I’d love you to suck me,” he paused pumping his cock. “I have to say that I miss being inside you.” And with that, he slid all the way in, his mouth silencing my moans.

He stayed still for a while, his eyes staring into mine intensely, almost as if he was trying to tell me something. I nodded my head, his hips moving at my signal. His thrusts were slow and deep, going over every spot. I wrapped my arms around him, my forehead resting against his, as he breathed heavily.

“I want to fuck you dumb, but he’ll hear your moans.” he taunted rolling his hips, his tip almost hitting my cervix. “So good.” I whimpered, wrapping my legs around him, my heels digging into his lower back.

“Jean…” I was close and my legs were a shaking mess. “That’s right baby, say my name.” he breathed in my ear, slightly speeding up his thrusts. I bit onto his shoulder, my orgasm ripping through my body.

I tightened around him, his strokes getting sloppier. It came to my attention that he wasn’t wearing protection, and I wasn’t about to get adventurous like last time. “Jean… pull out…”

“Beg.” was his only reply to which I complied. “Please, anywhere, just not-“ He harshly pulled out, and instead of jerking himself on my stomach, he reached up to straddle my chest and stroked himself. “Open.”

I stuck my tongue out, his hand now replaced with mine as I jerked him off, ropes of cum shooting down my throat. “Such a good girl.” he chuckled, rubbing his hand over his face.

He got off me and pulled his hair back using both hands, his naked body walking around the bed to grab some tissues. He cleaned off my arousal and handed me some to clean the corners of my lips.

“If only you could see how messed up you look,” he smirked and threw me my t-shirt before grabbing his towel and sliding on his shorts.

I put on my top and got off his bed. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and internally yelled at myself. I looked like a mess. My hair was tangled and my skin was all sweaty. Guess I have to take a shower too.

I looked over at Jean to see him staring at me with an amused look on his face. “What?” I cocked my eyebrow. He shrugged and smiled at me. “Connie and I are going out to get some lunch tomorrow. What’d you say?” he requested.

“I mean yeah sure. But Jean he can-“

“Can’t know alright.” he rolled his eyes. We stared at each other for a minute before I decided to leave his room.

As I made my way past him, his hand flew to cup my swollen cunt. “This belongs to me.”