#idk man i just want away from you people I'm tired of your voices I'm tired of your faces I'm tired of having to be around u worry about u

[b1eedthefreak]

hi!!! idk if you'd be interested in this idea, but i think it'd be funny daryl dating the reader but that doesn't stop other ladies from shooting their shot. i was thinking prison era, but whatever floats your boat, but like daryl genuinely doesn't understand how people don't get that he's in a relationship with literally the most amazing woman in existence?? but it gets funnier because these women actually don't know because publicly his declarations of affection just aren't that obvious but to daryl and reader his actions may as well be him screaming how in love he is. idk where i'm going with this but i hope you see the vision. 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Taken Man

⌇daryl dixon x reader

⌇summary: the women at the prison can’t seem to get the hint daryl is already a taken man and keep flirting with him, he’s sick and tired

⌇warnings: none

⌇word count: ~4.3k

a/n this request was so fun to write! i hope this was what you were expecting!

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The sun had set at the prison. The sounds of footsteps echoed off the concrete walls as Daryl made his way through the yard, balancing a stack of boxes filled with fruit. He’d volunteered to help out with the food distribution again, knowing it would give him something to do that didn’t involve constant nagging from people.

But, of course, peace was fleeting when you had a guy like Daryl Dixon, charming in his own gruff way, walking around.

As he moved, he felt something, someone, approach from behind. The first touch was unmistakable, a hand on his bicep. Daryl froze, a look of confusion passing over his face.

“Wow, Daryl,” the voice came from behind him. “You’re so big and strong. We’re so lucky to have you around.”

Daryl didn’t even look back, his face scrunching as if he didn’t know whether to be flattered or uncomfortable. “Uh… yeah. Thanks.”

He could practically hear the woman grin behind him, but he wasn’t in the mood for small talk. Still, he didn’t move, just kept carrying the boxes toward the makeshift food line. The woman’s touch lingered for a moment, squeezing his arm in a way that made him want to shrug her off, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to do that without coming off rude.

Daryl was trying to move along with his load, but the woman let go. The awkwardness was thick in the air, but Daryl continued forward, shaking his head and wondering why he couldn’t just be left alone. You already have the most amazing woman in existence, he reminded himself. Why can’t they get the hint?

Later that day, as Daryl sat down at the metal table, sharpening his knife, he thought he was in the clear. He was focused on the blade in front of him, the rhythmic scraping of the sharpening stone a moment of rare peace. But that peace didn’t last very long.

He heard footsteps approach, followed by the unmistakable voice of another woman. “Oh, Daryl,” she cooed, leaning on the table beside him. “Mind if I keep you company while you work?”

Daryl looked up briefly, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m good here,” he grumbled, his tone flat. He had no desire for company. Especially not from someone who couldn’t seem to see the obvious.

“Oh, come on,” she persisted. “Just a little chat won’t hurt.”

He wasn’t really paying attention anymore, just focused on sharpening his blade. His patience was wearing thin, and it was starting to show in his silence. But this lady was persistent.

Finally, she leaned over, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Daryl,” she said softly, “I just wanted to tell you how much we all appreciate you. You’re really something special.”

He let out a low sigh, gripping the handle of his knife a little too tightly. “‘Preciate it,” he muttered, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from something that didn’t involve her sitting next to him.

Just as she started to say something else, he cut her off, his voice a little firmer. “Listen, I got work to do.”

With that, she finally took the hint, stepping back. Daryl didn’t even watch her walk away. He just let out a frustrated breath, muttering to himselfz

Then, later that evening, when dinner was being served, he found himself walking into the mess hall, trying to find a quiet corner. But of course, someone else had other plans.

He was just about to sit down when another woman came up to him. “Hey, Daryl,” she said, her voice sweet. “You look like you could use some company.”

Daryl turned slowly, his face scrunching up in disgust. Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Nah, I’m good,” he grumbled.

But she wasn’t taking no for an answer. “C’mon, you’re always so quiet during dinner. You should let me keep you company!”

Daryl’s face twisted further into a frown. He couldn’t believe this was happening again. He grabbed his plate, shoved his food onto it with more force than necessary, and turned to leave.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna go eat by myself,” he muttered under his breath, clearly annoyed. “I gotta keep watch anyway.”

The woman was left standing there, flabbergasted, but Daryl didn’t care. He made his way toward Cell Block A, where he found a quiet spot, a corner where no one would bother him, and set his food down to eat in peace.

He grumbled to himself as he dug into his meal, shoveling food into his mouth like he was starving. Why can’t they just leave me alone? He didn’t understand it. He was already taken. So why were these women still coming at him like he was some sort of prize?

As he chewed his food, Carol entered, her brow furrowing slightly when she spotted him sitting alone, looking like he was about to burst from frustration.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, sitting down next to him.

Daryl glanced at her, his face scrunched up in a way that screamed pure exasperation. “These damn people won’t leave me alone.”

Carol raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her seat. “What do you mean?”

Daryl put down his fork for a moment, mimicking a high pitched voice, hands on his head as if he was imitating the women who’d been bothering him. “Oh, Daryl, let me stay with you… Ooooh, Daryl, Daryl, Daryl!” He exaggerated his words and shook his hair. “I don’t get it, Carol! I have a beautiful girlfriend! We’re obviously together!”

Carol snorted, holding back a laugh. “I wouldn’t say it’s all that obvious, Daryl.”

He blinked, completely thrown. “How the hell not? I gave her a sharpened knife! A sharpened freakin’ knife! And I brought her a rabbit to eat!” He was so frustrated, his hands throwing gestures into the air like he was giving some sort of declaration of war speech. “What the hell else do they need to see?”

Carol couldn’t hold it in anymore. She started laughing so hard she had to clutch her stomach. Daryl watched her, his frown deepening, and he shook his head. “What’s so funny? I’m serious!”

“Okay, okay,” Carol gasped, wiping away a tear. “It’s not exactly obvious to everyone. You’re not walking around with a neon sign that says ‘I’m taken.’”

Daryl looked horrified by the suggestion. “What the hell do you mean? I even—“

“You gave her a rabbit, Daryl,” Carol interrupted before he could continue, holding up her hands to stop him. “That’s not exactly common behavior for a guy who’s not into her. You don’t just bring women rabbits.”

At that moment, you walked into the cell block, out of breath and clearly on the search for him.

“Hey, where’s Daryl?” you called out, looking around for him. You finally spotted him sitting next to Carol, and a smile tugged at your lips as you approached them.

Daryl didn’t see you yet, too caught up in his frustration. “These damn women keep gettin’ in my face! I don’t know how much clearer I can make it!” He slammed his fist down onto the table. “What the hell do I need to do?! Start wearin’ a damn shirt that says ‘I’m a taken man’?”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing as you approached them. Carol was cackling beside him, holding her stomach. The two of them looked at you in surprise, but Carol was clearly enjoying the show.

“I take it things are going well?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Daryl groaned, looking like he was about to lose it. “They won’t leave me alone, and it’s makin’ me lose my mind!”

You sat down next to him, placing a hand on his arm, trying to stifle your laughter. “Daryl, baby… it’s not that obvious to people.”

His face was so deadpan as he groaned, “What the hell do you mean? I gave you a damn rabbit!”

“Yeah,” you said, holding in a grin, “but some people don’t know our signs.”

Carol just about lost it again at Daryl’s expense, her laughter echoing through the room.

Daryl slouched, finally realizing the hilarious truth. “I’m gonna need a damn neon sign next time.”

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[writersblockiskillingme]

Red | The Salesman

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!reader

Summary: After a tiring day, you're just trying to go home, but while you're waiting on your train, a handsome man in a suit stumbles on you.

Warning/s: betting, money in exchange for a game, slapping (on the face, you nasty), salesman trying to recruit you for the games, smoking cigarettes, people on the station being kind of weirded out, maybe some cursing (idk), reader is in debt, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: So this is like the prequel to my story Russian Roulette, but it really doesn't matter whether you read that fic or this one first. You do you. I really love the request, btw. Hope you enjoy!

Request: hii can u make more stories in this story line between the reader n him? like i rlly wanna know what they were like tgthr before this situation since we r told they had smth tgthr at some point tyyyy

Part 2 here!!

The bench where I was sitting was quite cold, which, of course, wasn't surprising considering how cold it was tonight. My hand slightly shook as I wrapped my fingers around the lit up cigarette that I was smoking for who knows how long. My flimsy jacket that was wrapped around me did not bring exact comfort to me that I had hoped it would.

Shivering there, I sat as the announcer's voice rang around the train station, signaling that the train that I was waiting for to go home would be slightly delayed, forcing me to wait there for entire hour more than I should be waiting. It was already late and I was so done with today's day.

Trying to earn money was hard, especially when you're in a lot of debt. Being chased by the people who you owe money to, threatening to cut out your eyes, possibly even kill you in the end, wasn't fun either. You had to learn to sleep with one eye open. Constantly on edge, just like I was right now.

The job that I worked did not provide as much money as I needed it to. There was simply no way for me to earn enough money for food every day, to pay rent which I was already three months behind. My landlord was truly a fucking angel for letting me live in that house as long as I did, but I knew that that wouldn't last forever either. There was no way that I could afford to pay everything that was essential, let alone pay off my debts.

In frustration, letting out a deep, disappointed sigh, my hand slid into the pocket of my jacket, reaching for yet another cigarette and a lighter.

"Hello, miss."

I practically jumped from my seat, startled by a sudden voice next to me. I whipped my head around, finding the face that this voice belonged to.

Right next to me, smiling, was a very handsome man that looked like some kind of salesman. He was wearing a very expensive suit. His hair was as black as the night sky. His piercing eyes just as black. There was little to no facial hair, but that really suited him. He was very handsome and I quickly found myself surprised when I realized that he was actually talking to me.

"Can I talk to you?" He asked once he noticed how startled I was.

"I'm not a prostitute, sir." I said, sliding away on the bench further away from him.

"Don't worry, miss, it's not that." He chuckled gently, his eyes never leaving mine. "I just want to let you in on a great opportunity to win some money."

There was just silence for a while. I sad nothing all the while he kept looking at me.

"Um..." I looked at him and, for a while, just couldn't bring myself to speak up. "No, thank you."

"'No'?" He asked.

It seemed like I caught him by surprise, but after a little while I noticed something else in his eyes that I just couldn't seem to figure out. Some kind of amazement? Respect even? But there was definitely something that I couldn't label quite yet.

"There is definitely a catch." I smiled slightly. I would love to get some money, of course, but I know that it won't be that easy.

"Miss." The salesman smiled once again, his eyes surprisingly gently just like his voice as he spoke. "Would you like to play a game with me?

"Wha-What kind of g-game?" I found myself stuttering a bit. "Look, if this is some sort of sick perverted thing you're doing 'cause I swear if you try something, I am going to scream." I threatened, a newfound confidence overwhelming me.

He chuckled once more, "No, nothing like that, Miss."

All of a sudden, he quickly turned his face away from me as he reached to open his suitcase. I could swear that for a split second I saw him blush, but then I realized that I probably imagined it because there's no way. I mean, sure, he is very handsome, but the two of us are a whole world apart, too different from each other.

"I'm sure you've played ddakji before, right?" He spoke and I looked at the open suitcase that was resting between us.

There were a few piles of money on one side and two different colors of ddakji on the other side. Red and blue. I looked at him with surprise.

"You-You want me to play ddakji with you?" I asked, raising my eyebrow in question.

He nodded with a smile.

"For money?"

He nodded again, "Play a few rounds of ddakji with me and each time you win, I'll pay you a 100,000 won."

Damn.

I mean, sure, why not. I loved that game when I was a kid, and I didn't have a chance to play the game in what seemed like forever. Plus, if I win, I get money. It all seemed amazing, but then I realized what the problem with all of this could be.

"And what if I lose and you win." I asked, he continued to smile as he answered.

"Then you pay me 100,000 won."

"Sir, this is amazing and all, don't get me wrong." I gently said, "But I'm afraid that I don't have the money to pay you back."

"That is all right, miss." His smile unwavering. "We'll figure something else regarding that if it comes to it."

For a moment, I just sat there in silence, pondering the offer. But after a while I finally decided.

"Ah, sure," I sighed before matching his smile and meet his eyes, "Why not?"

"What color would you like to play as?" He asked me, taking both red and blue ddakji as I stood up. He followed me almost immediately.

"Red, please." I said and he smiled as he handed me the red ddakji.

As I reached for the red one that he was handing me out, our hands touched. For a moment we both froze, but then I quickly took the ddakji and moved away.

It was so strange. The feeling I got when I touched his hand. It was as if some sort of electricity went straight through me, forcing me to quickly move away due to the shock of it all.

He cleared his throat before extending his right hand, pointing to the floor, "You gotta first, Miss."

I nodded, and with that, he placed the blue ddakji on the ground, and I stood over it. I took a stronger hold of the red ddakji and stood up more straight as I glared at the blue ddakji. Goodness, I haven't done this in years, I thought to myself, letting out a shaky breath.

I took a deep breath.

I could feel his eyes on me.

I swang my arm behind my head before powerfully striking his blue ddakji. Apparently, I must have done something wrong because his blue ddakji moved but did not flip over. I let out a sigh, looking kind of defeated.

He stepped forward, grabbed his blue ddakji, and stood back up. I moved away, giving him more space, his eyes folowing my every move. Almost immediately, he swang his arm behind his head, slaming his blue ddakji on my red one, flipping it over with ease. I sighed as he turned to look at me, teasing smile making it's way on his face.

"So..." I spoke up, kind of unsure and slightly intimidated, "So what now? I lost."

"Don't worry about money." He spoke up, kind of surprising me with that one, "We'll discuss it at the end if that is okay with you, Miss?"

"Sure." I answered him, meeting his eyes.

His smile widened a little bit more as we, for a few moments, just stood there taking each other in. All of a sudden, he cleared his throat, snapping himself out of it.

"One more round?" He asked as he fixed his tie, I nodded, not saying a word.

Turns out, one round meant about five more. I lost every single round. It truly began to seem like luck wasn't on my side that day.

We got to the last round, the sixth one. I was getting annoyed, constantly losing. I took a deep breath. His blue ddakji stared at me, my red one locked in my hand. I flipped my ddakji over and decided that that was it. I swang my hand behind my head and delivered the most powerful swing yet. I stared at his blue ddakji and my red one as both of them flipped in the air before his blue ddakji landed on the cold floor. It flipped over... I won...

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped my lips as he gave me a little applause, smiling as I jokingly bowed.

"Wow," I chuckled, "I finally won the round."

"Well done, Miss." He chuckled lowly, but somehow so softly as he reopened his suitcase handing me 100,000 won. "As promised."

"Thank you," I said, taking the money, "but I lost like five times. Tell me, what can I possibly give you to make this even."

"How about you give me the pleasure of taking you out for dinner, Miss?" He spoke up almost shyly in a way that was so endearing, and even though it seemed like that look wouldn't fit him, it somehow did. "Only if you want to, of course."

"I..." I spoke up stuttering and blushing a bit, surprised by his offer, "I would love to."

After that interesting interaction, we went out to get dinner. I had a great time with him, and even though I hated to admit it, I started to like him. We talked on and on about random things. We were truly having fun and that made my day so much better.

Before separating, he gifted me a blood red rose, and he gave me a card that looked really strange. At the front of the brownish card was a circle, a triangle, and a square. I flipped the card over and saw what looked like a telephone number.

"Miss, there are other games like the one that we played where you can make even more money than you did. So much more." He started to explain, but his expression became different. His smile was gone and there was a sort of gloomy gaze in his eyes. That seemed to surprise him. "Think about it."

He stepped closer to me, looked me deep in the eyes before he started to slowly lean in. I found myself doing the same. Our lips met. We were just standing there, outside of the restaurant, rose in my hand, his hands on my face deepening the kiss.

As we parted ways, he told me that he hoped to see me again if I made it. Whatever that meant.

I took another look at the card that he gave me, staring at the number, not knowing that I will meet my childhood friend Gi-hun, not knowing what the games will do to both of us and to all the other people, not knowing the amount of money I was gonna win, not knowing that I will spend the next three years of my life chasing the man of my life, trying to haunt him down, not knowing how dangerous the last game that we'll play will be.

TAGLIST:

@shadow-tumbler

[lazy-ahh]

Haiii !! Me again lmao >:3 I dooo have a request I fear - idk how to explain it tho but I have songs that gave me the ideas, hopefully when you /if you listen to then you'll get what I mean !! I just think the way you write would be perfect for this

the songs =

Like real people do, from Eden, Nobody's soilder, cherry wine, it will come back

All by Hozier lol, if I find a proper way to explain it I will!

Thanks again!! ʕ≧ᴥ≦ʔ

IT WILL COME BACK

pairing jason todd x gender neutral reader

twenty five times jason todd warned you not to love him, and one time he begged you to stay.

this is the first of two! (i'm sorry, but i only have the time to write two of the songs and those two songs were the ones that clicked for me and i just NEED to write about them) i listened to this song first and immediately searched up the meaning of this song. and then i read someone's interpretation of the song and I JUST NEEDED TO WRITE ABOUT IT, especially with emotionally repressed jason who worships reader, who doesn't think that he deserves them but with the way reader teases and encourages him and showers him with love, to let him not be afraid of showing his true feelings, then how could he ever say no? hopefully you enjoyed this one!

taglist @kasarian , @queermaeda , @yujensstuff , @thebatsgreatestfailure

you know better, babe, you know better, babe

jason knows you know. he’s a mess of scar tissue and bad decisions, a boy who clawed his way out of his own grave only to keep dragging the dirt behind him—so why do you look at him like he’s something worth loving? like he’s not just a ghost wearing a man’s skin? you shouldn’t. you know better.

but then you grin at him, all sharp edges and softness, and say, "what’s that face for, jay? thinking too hard again?" like it’s that simple. like he’s not a loaded gun and you’re not pressing your finger to the trigger just to feel the danger of it.

the way you look at him, all mischief and molten affection—you know what it does to him. he’s not stupid. you’re not subtle. (he’s memorized the exact shade of your smile when you tease him, the way your nose scrunches when you laugh at his scowling.) but god, he loves it anyway. loves you anyway. even when he doesn’t think he deserves to.

than to look at it, look at it like that

your eyes drag over him like you’re starving, like he’s something worth devouring—and fuck, maybe he is, the way you touch him like you can’t get enough. fingers tracing the ridges of his abs, nails scraping just to hear his breath hitch. teeth sinking into the curve of his bicep, just hard enough to bruise, just hard enough to make him groan. lips pressing hot and open-mouthed against the back of his neck while your hands slip under his shirt, greedy, needy, like you want to memorize every scar, every shudder you pull from him.

"jason," you sigh, voice dripping with something sweet and sinful, "you’re so tense, baby. let me help."

he should scowl. should shove you away before this goes too far, before he loses what little control he has left. but then your tongue flicks over his pulse point, and his head falls back against your shoulder with a ragged fuck.

he never does push you away. never could.

you know better, babe, you know better, babe

he’s warned you before—voice rough like gravel under tires, that low growl he gets when you’re pushing all his buttons just to watch him unravel. "don’t," he mutters, fingers twitching at his sides like he wants to reach for you but won’t let himself. "you shouldn’t poke the beast, sweetheart."

but you just tilt your head, all faux innocence, lips quirking into that grin that makes his pulse stutter. "beast?" you echo, stepping closer until your breath ghosts over his jaw. "where? all i see is you, jason." and god, the way you say his name—like it’s something sacred, something yours—it wrecks him.

his hands find your hips on instinct, grip tight enough to bruise, but you don’t flinch. you never do. instead, you press closer, all warm skin and teasing fingers tracing the scars on his knuckles. "see?" you murmur, voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "just you."

he should argue. should remind you he’s not something to play with, not something gentle. but the way you look at him—like he’s yours, like you’d fight the whole damn world to keep him—steals the words right from his throat.

than to talk to it, talk to it like that

your voice drops to something slow and syrupy, honey-thick with teasing—the kind of tone that curls under his skin and lingers there, sticky-sweet. "jason," you sigh, dragging out each syllable like you're savoring the taste, and fuck, it's not even his name anymore. it's a blade between his ribs, a match to gasoline, and you wield it with devastating precision.

he tenses, jaw clenching as he pointedly stares at the ceiling instead of you. "don't," he grits out, but there's no heat behind it—just that rough, frayed edge that means he's already losing.

"don't what?" you hum, all false innocence, fingers walking up his chest like you own every inch of him (you do). "i'm just saying your name."

"yeah, like that," he mutters, finally snapping—one hand catching yours mid-taunt, pinning it against his heartbeat. it's racing. you can feel it. "like you fucking mean it."

don’t give it a hand, offer it a soul

he doesn’t want half-measures, doesn’t want the tentative brush of your fingers like you’re afraid he’ll break. if you’re going to touch him, he wants all of you—your laughter tangled in his sheets, your stubborn mouth biting back moans, the way you dig your nails into his shoulders when he fucks you just right. he wants the way you press your cold feet against his calves just to hear him yelp, the way you gasp his name like a prayer when he pins you down.

"jason—" you pant, arching under him as his teeth graze your throat.

"tell me," he growls, hands mapping your skin like he���s memorizing every beauty mark, every scar. "tell me you’re mine."

you laugh, breathless and bright, even as he steals the sound with a kiss. "always," you murmur against his lips, fingers twisting in his hair. "you know you’ve got me."

and he does. he does. your soul is already his—has been since the first time you looked at him like he was worth something. but he’ll still take it again and again, greedy and desperate, until neither of you can remember where he ends and you begin.

honey, make this easy

it should be simple. he should be able to push you away, to stay in the shadows where he belongs—where he can't hurt you. but then he sees you on that rooftop, outnumbered and backed into a corner, and his body moves before his mind can catch up.

the takedown is brutal, efficient. he doesn't let himself linger, already turning to disappear into the night—until your hand catches his wrist.

"jason."

his name on your lips is a punch to the gut. he freezes, heart hammering against his ribs. you shouldn't know. you shouldn't see him.

"you're dead," you whisper, but your fingers tighten like you're afraid he'll vanish. "i watched them bury you."

he should lie. should shake you off and run. but the way you're looking at him—like he's your only salvation, something precious, something real—makes the words stick in his throat.

"make this easy," he rasps, voice rough from disuse. "pretend you didn't see me."

you laugh, sharp and wet, and suddenly your arms are around him, holding on like he's the only solid thing in the world. "never," you breathe against his neck. "you don't get to ask me that."

and god, he's so fucked. because he should pull away. should run. but your warmth, your scent, the way you cling to him like he's worth keeping—it ruins him.

leave it to the land, this is what it knows

he was made for violence—knuckles split on brick walls, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue, the way pain sings through his veins like an old friend. survival is coded in his bones, written in every scar. but you—you with your stupid jokes and softer hands, with the way you trace his scars like they're something precious instead of proof of how broken he is—you make him want. want mornings tangled in sheets, want lazy kisses pressed to his shoulder blades, want things he has no right to ask for. it terrifies him.

"stop that," he grumbles when you catch his hand, turning it over to press your lips to his bruised knuckles.

"stop what?" you murmur, all innocence, but your eyes spark with mischief.

"this." he gestures vaguely between you, at the way your thumb rubs circles into his palm. "acting like i'm—"

"like you're what?" you interrupt, leaning in until your breath ghosts over his lips. "worth loving?"

he flinches like you've struck him. "that's not—"

"too bad," you whisper, and kiss him before he can protest further. and god help him, he kisses back, hands clutching at your waist like you're the only thing keeping him grounded.

(he was made for blood and brutality. but maybe—just maybe—he could learn to be made for this too.)

honey, that’s how it sleeps

the nightmares come less often when you’re there—when he can feel the steady rhythm of your breathing against his chest, when your warmth seeps into his bones like sunlight through cracked blinds. he’ll never say it out loud, but he sleeps deeper with your limbs tangled in his, with your head tucked under his chin like you belong there. (you do.)

one night, after a particularly bad mission, you catch him staring at you in the dim light, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your hip.

“what?” you murmur, voice thick with sleep, blinking up at him.

“nothing,” he mutters, but his arm tightens around you, pulling you closer.

you smirk against his collarbone. “you’re such a liar.”

he huffs, but doesn’t deny it, just presses his lips to your forehead in a silent confession.

don’t let it in with no intention to keep it

his hands are rough when they grab your wrists, pinning them to the mattress as he hovers over you, breath ragged. "this isn't a game," he grits out, eyes dark with something dangerous. "i'm not some fucking toy you can pick up when it's convenient and toss aside when you're bored."

you tilt your chin up, defiant even as your pulse jumps under his grip. "who said anything about tossing you aside?"

"don't," he warns, voice dropping to that low growl that makes your stomach flip. "don't act like you don't know what you do to me. like you haven't always known."

your smile is all sharp edges and sweetness. "maybe i like what i do to you."

he exhales sharply through his nose, grip tightening just enough to make you gasp. "then you better be prepared to deal with the consequences, sweetheart," he murmurs, leaning down until his lips brush your ear. "because if you let me in, i'm not leaving. ever."

(he means it. he'll ruin anyone who tries to take him away from you—including himself.)

"who says i'd let you out?" you answer, voice just as raw, just as wrecked, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll vanish if you loosen your grip. the look on his face mirrors yours—something desperate, something starving—and for a heartbeat, neither of you moves. "i lost you once before, i'm never losing you again."

jesus christ, don’t be kind to it

your kindness is worse than cruelty. the way you cup his face like he’s something precious, the way you press feather-light kisses to every scar—each one a silent i love you, i love you, i love you—it undoes him completely. he knows how to take a punch, how to bleed and keep fighting, but this? this tenderness? it terrifies him more than any enemy ever could.

"stop," he rasps when you trace the jagged line along his ribs—a souvenir from a fight he barely walked away from. his voice cracks, rough with something too close to vulnerability. "you don’t have to—"

"i know," you interrupt softly, lips brushing the raised skin before you look up at him, eyes warm as sunlight. "i want to."

and that’s the thing that wrecks him most of all—that you choose this, choose him, even when he’s all sharp edges and broken pieces. your fingers card through his hair, gentle as a summer breeze, and he leans into the touch before he can stop himself.

honey, don’t feed it, it will come back

he always comes back. no matter how many times he tells himself this is the last time, no matter how many miles he puts between you, his feet always find their way to your doorstep—bruised, breathless, and aching. tonight is no different. the second you open the door, he’s on you, hands rough as they pin you against the wall, his mouth hot and desperate against yours.

“told you not to let me in,” he growls between kisses, teeth scraping your bottom lip. “told you i’d come back.”

you laugh, breathless, arching into him as his fingers dig into your hips. “like you could stay away,” you taunt, dragging your nails down his back just to hear him groan.

he nips at your throat in retaliation, sucking a bruise into your skin as his hands roam, claiming, possessive. “fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “you ruin me.”

you know better, babe, you know better, babe

you smile at him, all sunshine and sharp edges, and he aches—not just with want, but with something terrifyingly tender that coils tight in his chest. he knows better than to reach for it, knows better than to let himself believe he could have this. but then your fingers brush against his, tentative and warm, and something in him cracks open.

"jason," you murmur, thumb tracing slow circles over his knuckles—the same hands that have done unspeakable things, now trembling under your touch. "you can hold my hand, you know. i won’t break."

he hesitates, breath catching, before his fingers finally—finally—intertwine with yours, clumsy and unsure. "...this okay?" he mutters, voice rough, like he’s bracing for you to pull away.

you squeeze his hand, grinning up at him like he’s just given you the world. "more than okay," you whisper, leaning in until your forehead rests against his. "perfect, actually."

than to smile at me, smile at me like that

like he's something precious. like he's something yours—a secret treasure you found buried in the wreckage and decided to keep. it makes his chest too tight, makes his hands shake with the effort of not reaching for you, not crushing you against him until you can't tell where he ends and you begin. he wants to bite that smile off your lips, wants to swallow it whole so it lives inside him forever.

"quit it," he grits out when you catch him staring, your grin widening like you've won something.

"stop what?" you tease, leaning in until your breath ghosts over his mouth. "smiling at my boyfriend?"

the word—boyfriend—sends a jolt through him. his fingers twitch toward you before he can stop them, catching in the fabric of your shirt. "you know what you're doing," he accuses, voice low.

you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, feather-light. "yeah," you admit, laughing when he finally snaps and drags you in. "and you love it."

you know better babe, you know better babe

he’s told you. he’s told you—with rough words and scowls and hands that push you away even when they tremble with the need to pull you closer. but you still curl into him like you belong there, still press your cold nose against the pulse point in his neck like you’re memorizing the rhythm of his heartbeat. and the worst part? he’s starting to let you.

tonight, when you burrow under his arm with a sleepy sigh, he doesn’t stiffen. doesn’t grumble. his breath hitches, just once, before his arm settles around your shoulders, pulling you in like he’s been waiting for this all along.

"...comfortable?" he mutters, voice gruff but lacking its usual edge.

you hum, nuzzling closer. "mhm. you’re warm."

his fingers flex against your side, hesitant, before they start tracing idle patterns on your hip—his version of an apology, a confession, a please don’t let go.

than to hold me just, hold me just like that

your arms around him are a vice, a salvation, the only thing anchoring him to this world when the memories threaten to drag him under. he should pull away—shouldn’t let you cling to something so broken, shouldn’t let himself believe he deserves this. but then your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, holding tight like you’re afraid he’ll disappear again, and something in him cracks open.

"...you’re gonna suffocate me," he mumbles, but there’s no bite to it, just a rough edge of something tender he’s still learning to name.

you laugh against his collarbone, warm and bright. "liar," you murmur, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. "you love this."

he should deny it. should shove you off and retreat to the shadows where he belongs. but instead, his arms tighten around you—just a fraction, just enough to feel the way your breath hitches—and he ducks his head to press his lips to your hair.

"...shut up," he mutters, but it’s ruined by the way his voice cracks, by the way his hands tremble where they rest against your back.

i know who i am when i’m alone

alone, he’s sharp edges and old blood, the metallic taste of violence thick on his tongue. alone, he’s the red hood—a monster stitched together from Gotham’s rot, a ghost wearing a dead boy’s face. sometimes, in the quiet, he thinks maybe he should’ve stayed buried. maybe the world would’ve been kinder if he’d never clawed his way out of that grave.

but then you’re there, your warmth pressing against his back, your fingers threading through his like you’re trying to pull him out of his own head.

"jay," you murmur, soft but insistent, "come back to me."

his breath hitches. he should shrug you off, should snap that he’s not something you can fix. but instead, he turns his hand over, palm-up, an unspoken invitation. your fingers slot between his like they belong there, and he exhales shakily.

"...’m here," he mutters, rough but honest.

you press a kiss to his knuckles, gentle as dawn light. "good," you whisper. "stay."

(he will. for you, he’ll try.)

i’m something else when i see you

with you, he’s just jason—not the red hood, not the ghost, not the boy who should’ve stayed dead. just jason, who loves too hard with hands that have known too much blood, who wants too much when he deserves so little. it terrifies him, this fragile thing between you, like one wrong move could shatter it all. and you—god, you’re just as broken, just as scarred, always waiting for the day he doesn’t come back, always counting his breaths like each one might be the last.

tonight, he finds you curled into yourself, knees to your chest, staring blankly at the door like you’re already mourning him. his chest aches. he doesn’t know how to fix this—doesn’t know if he can. but he kneels in front of you anyway, hands hovering like he’s afraid to touch.

"...hey," he murmurs, voice rough. "i’m here."

you look up, eyes red-rimmed, and your breath stutters. "for how long?" you whisper, the question hanging between you like a guillotine.

he doesn’t have an answer. doesn’t know how to promise something he might not be able to keep. so he does the only thing he can—he pulls you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin, holding you so tight it almost hurts. "long as i can," he breathes into your hair.

your fingers clutch at his shirt, desperate. "that’s not enough," you choke out.

he knows. god, he knows. but he presses a kiss to your temple anyway, slow and lingering, trying to pour every unspoken i love you into it. "i know," he admits, voice cracking. "but it’s all i got."

you don’t understand, you should never know

you don’t realize the power you have—how one touch from you could bring him to his knees, how he’d carve out his own ribs if it meant keeping you safe. (he hopes you never find out.) but that night, with your lips on his and your hands tugging at his belt, he’s not thinking about hiding. he’s not thinking at all.

"jason," you gasp as he pins you to the mattress, his body covering yours like a shield, like a prayer. "are you sure—?"

his answer is a growl against your throat, teeth scraping your pulse point as his hands map every inch of you, desperate and reverent. "shut up," he breathes, but there’s no heat in it, just a raw ache. "just—fuck, just let me have this."

you arch into him, nails dragging down his back, and he swears he sees stars. "you have me," you whisper, voice breaking as he finally, finally sinks into you. "all of me."

(and that’s the thing—he doesn’t have you. you have him, heart and soul, and he’s too far gone to even care.)

how easy you are to need

it’s pathetic, really. the way he craves you—not just in the heat of battle or the dark of night, but in the quiet moments too. the way you hum off-key while making coffee, the way your nose scrunches when you laugh, the way you sigh in your sleep like the world can’t touch you here. it’s too much. it’s not enough.

tonight, he watches you bathed in moonlight, fingers tracing the slope of your shoulder like he’s memorizing his favourite verse of a poem. you stir under his touch, blinking up at him with sleep-soft eyes.

"why’re you staring?" you murmur, voice thick with drowsiness.

his thumb brushes your cheekbone, reverent. "just thinking," he admits, quieter than the rustle of sheets.

you turn into his palm, pressing a kiss to his pulse point. "about?"

he swallows. "how you’re like sunlight," he starts, haltingly, "even when you’re not trying to be." it’s clumsy, poetic in a way that makes his ears burn, but it’s true—you warm him from the inside out, melt the frost in his veins until he’s just a man, just jason, just yours.

your smile is slow, sweet. "say that again," you tease, but your eyes are shining.

"shut up," he grumbles, pulling you closer until your laughter vibrates against his chest.

(he’ll never tell you how easy it is to need you. but he’ll show you, every day, in every touch, for as long as you let him.)

don’t let me in with no intention to keep me

he’s not asking. he’s warning—voice rough like gravel, hands trembling where they frame your face. if you let him in, if you peel back his armor and see the broken thing beneath, he’s not leaving. he’ll carve a place between your ribs and make a home there, ruin you for anyone else, love you until it hurts.

"you sure about this?" he murmurs, forehead pressed to yours, breath shaky. "i’m not—i don’t know how to do this right."

you kiss him anyway, slow and sweet, fingers carding through his hair like he’s something precious. "good thing i don’t need you to be perfect," you whisper against his lips. "just yours."

his breath hitches. he kisses you back like he’s drowning, like you’re air, hands sliding down to grip your waist—gentler now, but no less desperate. "...mine," he repeats, testing the word, and it sounds so right.

jesus christ, don’t be kind to me

your kindness is a knife, twisting deeper every time you look at him like he’s worth something. your love is a live wire, sparking through his veins until he’s breathless with it. he can’t take it—the way you reach for him first, fingers lacing through his without hesitation, the way you press kisses to his scars like they’re something holy. but god, he’ll take anything you give him.

tonight, it’s him who initiates, catching your wrist as you pass by and pulling you into his lap with a quiet grunt. you yelp, then melt against him instantly, laughter bubbling up as his arms tighten around you.

"missed me?" you tease, tilting your head to nuzzle against his jaw.

his nose brushes your temple, inhaling the scent of your shampoo like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. "shut up," he mumbles, but there’s no heat in it—just a rough tenderness that makes your chest ache.

you pull back just enough to cup his face, thumbs brushing the dark circles under his eyes. "you’re so pretty," you murmur, hopelessly, helplessly in love.

he flushes, scowling, but leans into your touch anyway. "you’re such a sap," he mutters, before kissing you—soft, slow, and so painfully sweet it steals your breath. as if he hasn't said cheesier things in his head about you.

honey, don’t feed me, i will come back

he always does. no matter how many times he grumbles about needing space, no matter how dramatically he flops onto the couch complaining about your terrible taste in movies, he always circles back—drawn to you like gravity, like his bones know they belong wherever you are. and now? now he doesn’t even pretend to resist.

today, he catches you mid-eyeroll as you reorganize his haphazard stack of books (alphabetized by color, what the hell—), and before you can protest, he’s lifting you clear off the ground, tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"jason!" you shriek, kicking halfheartedly as he carries you toward the bedroom. "i was fixing your chaos!"

"ruining my system, you mean," he counters, giving your thigh a light smack just to hear you squawk. "besides, you’re way more fun when you’re not judging my life choices."

you pinch his side in retaliation, grinning when he yelps. "oh, so now you admit i’m fun?"

he dumps you onto the mattress, looming over you with a smirk. "shut up," he mutters, but he’s already leaning down to kiss you, swallowing your laughter like it’s his favorite flavor.

it can’t be unlearned

he’s tasted your mouth, your skin, your laughter—memorized the way you arch beneath him, the way your breath hitches when his teeth graze that spot just below your ear. he’s ruined for anything else, addicted to the way you fall apart in his hands, and now? now he doesn’t hesitate to take what he wants.

tonight, he pins you to the sheets with a hunger that borders on desperation, hands roaming like he’s mapping a religion he’ll never stop worshipping. “mine,” he growls against your throat, and the way you shudder—like the word alone is enough to undo you—sends a thrill down his spine.

afterward, when the air is thick with sweat and the scent of you, he surprises even himself by pulling you close, pressing a kiss to your damp forehead.

“...okay?” he murmurs, voice rough but softer now, fingers tracing idle patterns on your hip.

you hum, nuzzling into his chest with a contented sigh. "more than okay," you mumble, already half-asleep. "you?"

he huffs a laugh, tucking the blanket around you both. "could go for a few more rounds," jason teases, voice thick with exhaustion but still grinning as he presses a lazy kiss to your shoulder.

you laugh—soft and breathless, the sound curling warm in his chest. "oh my god, jay."

"alright, fine," he concedes, already pulling you closer as his breathing evens out. "sleep it is." but the way his arms lock around you, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish by morning, says everything his voice won’t.

i’ve known the warmth of your doorways

your home is his—the creak of the floorboards, the way your sheets smell like that cheap lavender detergent you swear by, the half-empty coffee mugs left scattered on the counter because neither of you can be bothered to clean up properly. your bed is his, with its too-soft pillows and the way you always steal the blankets, leaving him to grumble and pull you closer just to steal your warmth instead. your heart is his, beating steady under his palm when he wakes from nightmares to find you already watching him, fingers carding through his hair before he even has to ask. (he’s not giving it back. he couldn’t if he tried.)

tonight, it’s him who reaches for you first once more, catching your wrist as you walk by and tugging you into his lap with a quiet "c’mere." you go willingly, laughing as he nuzzles into the curve of your neck, his arms locking around your waist like he’s memorizing the shape of you.

"since when do you initiate cuddles?" you tease, but your hands are already sliding into his hair, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck the way he likes.

he hums, low and content, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. "since you ruined me," he mumbles, like it’s a confession, like it’s the easiest truth he’s ever spoken.

(he has. you have. and neither of you would change a thing.)

through the cold, i’ll find my way back to you

no matter how far he goes, no matter how lost he gets in the blood and the noise and the weight of his own ghosts, he’ll always come back. you’re his north star, his fixed point—the only thing that makes sense in this godforsaken city. tonight, he watches you from the rooftops, silhouetted against the neon glow of gotham’s skyline as you move through the fight below. you’re beautiful like this, all sharp edges and fluid motion, but his stomach twists when he sees you take a hit, when blood blooms dark against your sleeve.

he’s there before you can stumble, his hands steady as he hauls you into the shadows of an alleyway. "hold still," he mutters, voice rough with worry as he presses a gloved hand to the wound. you hiss but don’t pull away, your breath warm against his jaw as he works.

"since when do you play medic?" you tease, though your voice is tight with pain.

he doesn’t answer, just peels back the fabric of your suit with careful fingers, his touch reverent as he cleans the cut. when he’s done, he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth—soft, clumsy, lingering—before lifting your hand to his mouth and brushing his lips over your bruised knuckles. "don’t do that again," he murmurs, but it’s not an order. it’s a plea.

you smile, thumb stroking the stubble along his jaw. "make me," you whisper, and the way he leans into your touch says everything he won’t.

(he’ll always come back. and you’ll always be there, waiting.)

oh, please, give me mercy no more

"apologise, and maybe i'll think about going easy on you."

you laugh, bright and teasing, when he pins you to the mattress, his hips pressing yours deep into the sheets. "offering me mercy, jay?" you gasp, like the concept is foreign, back arching as he drags his teeth down your throat. "since when do you believe in mercy?"

he doesn’t answer—not with words, anyway. instead, he sinks into you in one slow, deliberate thrust, the stretch so perfect it punches the air from your lungs. he groans, forehead dropping to yours as he bottoms out, the heat of you clenching around him like you were made to take him. "fuck," he grits out, voice wrecked already. "you feel—" but he can’t finish, too lost in the way your nails dig into his shoulders, the way your thighs tremble around his waist.

he sets a punishing pace, each snap of his hips dragging a broken sound from your lips. "jason—" you whimper, fingers twisting in the sheets.

"look at me," he demands, voice rough, and when you do—when your eyes meet his, hazy with pleasure—something in his chest cracks open. suddenly, he’s imagining more than just this: lazy mornings tangled in your limbs, a house with too many windows, maybe even a tiny human with your sense of humour and his temper. the thought is so terrifyingly sweet it makes him falter, his rhythm stuttering.

you notice, of course. "where’d you go?" you pant, hips rolling to meet his.

he shakes his head, thrusts deeper, harder, until you’re gasping. "nowhere," he lies, but the way his hands cradle your face, the way his lips brush yours like a promise, says otherwise.

(he wants it all. and one day, he’ll tell you.)

that’s a kindness you can’t afford

he’s not kind—not in the way that matters, not when his hands are stained and his heart’s been carved out too many times to count. but you, with your stupid, stubborn hope, keep offering it anyway. tonight, it’s in the way you press a kiss to his scarred knuckles, like he’s something fragile, something worth gentleness. it makes his chest ache.

“stop,” he rasps, fingers twitching in your grip. “i told you this before, you don’t gotta—”

“i know,” you interrupt, lips quirking. “i want to.”

your thumb traces the ridge of his knuckles, slow and deliberate, and he should pull away. should remind you he’s not built for softness. but then you lean in, close enough that your breath ghosts over his jaw, and whisper, “guess you’re just stuck with me being nice.”

he huffs, but his hand turns under yours, palm-up, fingers curling to catch yours before you can retreat. “...reckless,” he mutters, but the way his thumb brushes your wrist is tender, almost apologetic.

(you are. and he’s not sorry at all.)

i warn you, babe, each night, as sure as you’re born

he tells you. every time. don’t start what you can’t finish. you never listen.

(like that first night he came back—really came back—when he appeared outside your window like some half-feral ghost, all sharp edges and haunted eyes. the fire escape creaked under his weight, the cold metal biting through his gloves as he hesitated, knuckles hovering just shy of the glass. he shouldn’t be here. shouldn’t let you see him like this, still smelling of blood and gotham’s rot. but god, he missed you.)

then the curtain twitched, and there you were—sleep-rumpled and wide-eyed, your breath fogging the pane as you stared at him like he was the answer to a prayer you’d never said out loud.

“...jason?” your voice was barely a whisper, cracked open with something like hope.

he swallowed hard, fingers curling into fists. “go back to bed,” he muttered, rough as gravel. “this ain’t—you don’t want this.”

but you were already unlatching the window, already reaching for him with hands that didn’t shake. “shut up,” you breathed, and then you were pulling him inside, your arms wrapping around him so tight he couldn’t tell where his trembling ended and yours began.

“i told you—” he started, but his voice broke, his face buried in your hair like he could memorize the scent of you.

“i know,” you interrupted, fingers gripping the back of his jacket like you were afraid he’d vanish. “i don’t care.”

you’ll hear me howling outside your door

you always let him in.

(like today, when the two of you are walking along the beach, barefoot and carefree, the golden hour sun painting everything in warm hues. the sand is soft under your toes, the waves lapping at your ankles as you laugh over some stupid childhood memory—that time he tried to bake cookies and nearly set the kitchen on fire, or when you tripped over your own feet trying to impress him with a skateboard trick. his laughter is rough but bright, unfiltered in a way it rarely is, and it makes your chest ache with how much you love him.)

then, because you’ve never been able to resist, you shove him playfully, sending him stumbling into the surf with a yelp. “oh, you’re dead,” he growls, but there’s no real threat in it, just that fond exasperation he reserves only for you. he lunges, catching you around the waist, and the two of you go down in a tangle of limbs and saltwater, the waves swallowing your shrieks of laughter.

you come up sputtering, coughing as you accidentally swallow a mouthful of the ocean. “tastes like shit,” you wheeze, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

he’s no better, blinking furiously as the water stings his eyes. “serves you right,” he mutters, but he’s already reaching for you, his hands gentle as they brush the wet hair from your face.

“worth it,” you grin, leaning into his touch.

he rolls his eyes, but the way his thumb traces your cheekbone is achingly tender. “idiot,” he murmurs, and it sounds like i love you.

don’t you hear me howling, babe?

you always will.

bullets ping off the metal crates you’re crouched behind, the sharp scent of gunpowder thick in the air. jason’s pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with you, his breath warm against your ear as he grins, wild and bright. "told you this was a bad idea," he says, like he’s not having the time of his life.

"you love my bad ideas," you shoot back, peeking over the crate just long enough to return fire. a man yelps as your shot grazes his arm, and jason barks out a laugh, loud enough to startle the goons into hesitating.

"showoff," he mutters, but there’s pride in his voice as he leans around the corner and takes down two men with precise shots. you cover him without missing a beat, your movements synced like you share the same pulse.

when the last thug hits the ground, the warehouse falls silent except for your shared, ragged breathing. jason turns to you, blood smeared across his cheekbone, and you reach out, thumb brushing it away. "messy," you tease.

"you love it," he counters, catching your wrist and pressing a kiss to your palm, right over the bruise forming from where you’d punched someone too hard.

the walk back to his bike is slow, the adrenaline fading into something softer. you bump his shoulder, grinning. "can’t wait to deal with this bullshit every day when we’re married."

his heart stutters in his chest, so loud he's half-afraid you'll hear it. his right hand curls instinctively in his pocket, thumb brushing against gold—the same way it has every day for weeks, checking, reassuring. the weight of what he's about to do tightens his throat, makes your casual words echo like church bells in his skull. when we're married. like it's inevitable. like he hasn't been lying awake rehearsing this moment for months. "yeah?" he manages, voice rougher than the gunfight warranted. the smile that tugs at his lips is helpless, unbearably soft. "...me neither."

(he looks at you then—really looks. the way the streetlights halo your hair, the way your smile cuts through the grime and exhaustion like sunlight. he wants to memorize this, wants to carve it into his ribs so he never forgets the way you love him, reckless and relentless.

"c’mon," he murmurs, nodding toward a quieter street. "let’s go somewhere else first."

you raise a brow but follow, because you always do.

and tonight, he’ll kneel on the rooftop where you first kissed—where the city lights painted your face in gold and he realized he’d never love anything as much as he loves you—ring in hand, voice trembling just once as he asks you to keep following. forever.)

WOAH this one was a long one—6.5k words??? i'm literally crying right now as i wrote this last part cause like AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH it took me 4 hours... 4 FUCKING HOURS TO WRITE THIS AND AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I LOVE IT I NEED MORE I NEED MORE OF JASON (as if i don't have the ability to write more of this.......)

[teddy06writes]

Take Care of You

Fiyero Tigelaar x gn!reader

Prompt(s): "I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I don’t need your help, and I definitely don’t need your pity. Fuck off.” / "You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m right here for you if you’ll just let me in.”

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, general descriptions of sickness, stress, something in readers background makes them not want to depend on people, out of character fiyero? (idk man I've only seen the movie and read a lot of gilyeraba fics}

Summary: You and Fiyero have been going out for a few weeks, but you're still hesitant to let yourself get too near him. When you come down with the mysterious illness that's been working its way through Shiz, Fiyero's determined to nurse you through it, despite your reservations.

The harder you tried to focus on the words before you, the more your head swam. The library was quiet, and the lights were dim, so there shouldn't have been any chances of your headache getting worse. Yet pain still thundered at your temples.

Of course, after dodging this sickness for weeks, you caught it just in time for Dr. Dillamond to assign a very important project. It was just your luck.

You dropped your pen to the side, letting your head drop down onto your arms, heaving in a deep breath. No matter what you took or how much you tried to shake it, you could lose the bone tiredness that had been plaguing you for days now.

"You alright, darling? How long have you been holed up in here for?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of Fiyero's voice, dragging your head up so quickly you swore you saw spots, "Uh-"

"Woah, hey," He quickly sat down in the chair next to you, reaching out like he needed to steady you, "What's going on?"

You blinked, trying to clear your vision, "Sorry- sorry, I'm just- tired."

"No need to apologize, darling. Are you sure you're alright?"

Clearing your throat, you nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just have a bit of a headache."

Fiyero frowned, glancing at the textbook in front of you, "Well how long have you been working? Maybe it's time for a break."

"Only an hour. I'm fine."

He watched you with concern as you turned back to your work. You could practically feel him watching you, surely taking stock of the dark bags under your eyes, the unusual paleness of your skin, the way you suddenly couldn't seem to warm up.

"Have you taken medicine-"

"Yes. I do know how to take care of myself, Fiyero." There's a sharpness to your voice even you don't expect.

Even out of the corner of your eye you can see him frown, "I know that, darling, I know. You just don't look too good."

You let out a sigh, starting turn toward him again, "Fiyero-"

Before you could stop him, he was reaching out to press the back of his hand to your forehead, his frown deepening, "Darling, your burning up, what on earth are you doing studying?"

"The new assignment from Dr. Dillamond-"

"Isn't due for a week and a half! I mean honestly- Darling you should be resting-"

You stood up abruptly, even as it made stars dance in your vision, "I've been taking care of myself for a long time. I don't need your help, and I certainly don't need your pity, so please, fuck off."

Fiyero had stood and managed to catch your wrist before you could even make it three steps away, pulling you to turn back to him with a strange, desperate look on his face, "Who said this was pity?"

"Fiyero--"

"Who said this was pity?" He repeated, letting go of your wrist only to cup your cheek, his voice dropping, "I happen to genuinely care about your wellbeing, because believe it or not, I care about you, darling."

You closed your eyes for a long moment, trying desperately to turn away, "Fiyero..."

"You don't have to go through this, or anything else alone. Not anymore, not while I'm here," His hand drifted back to the back of your neck, gently turning your face back to him, "I'm right here if you'll just let me in."

Just like that, something in you seemed to break, and you were suddenly trying to blink away tears.

"Oh- Darling-"

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry-"

Fiyero began gently wiping away he few tears that had escaped and were trailing down your cheeks, "Hey, hey, don't apologize..."

"I'm just so tired- I can't shake this no matter what I do."

"Well, forcing yourself to be out and about certainly isn't helping," Fiyero turned, beginning to gather up your books and tuck everything away into your bag, "Come on, let's get you back to your dorm so you can get some rest."

When he took your hand, you didn't fight it, instead allowing yourself to be led along, out of the library. Outside, the cool air only seemed to worsen your chill, and Fiyero was quick to shrug off his jacket, tucking it around your shoulders.

The walk back to the dorms felt twice as long as your original journey to the library had taken, but eventually, you'd made it. Fiyero had coaxed you to lie down, and after all but forcing you to take another dose of medicine, tucked you into bed as if it were his life's mission.

You managed to catch hold of his hand as he turned to leave, whispering hoarsely, "Thank you, 'yero."

"Of course, darling," He smiled softly, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead, "I'll come by and check on you in the morning, yeah?"

But the only response he got was the sound of your soft snores. Chuckling to himself, Fiyero pressed another kiss to your forehead, before backing out of your room.

~~~

Enjoyed this fic? Help me buy textbooks :)

[thrillered]

imagine reader and coworker/friend/crush Spencer and you guys are having lunch out of the office and run into your ex who is like a tall shayne basically and spencer gets a bit jealous/insecure and starts avoiding you a bit and you think you did something wrong

idk man I'm not a writer but you know what I mean?

The Ex | Spencer Agnew x Reader

I hope you like it!

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“I don’t know what to get.” You sighed, analyzing the menu. 

“Honestly I haven't had something I didn’t like.” Courtney, who was sitting across from you, said. 

“Well that's reassuring.” You replied, “What are you getting Spence?” You asked, turning your head to look at your friend beside you. 

Some of your friends and coworkers decided to go out for lunch today, taking advantage of the cool weather since it’s been so humid and hot the past week. The group had taken Courtneys suggestion and now you were sitting outside on a beautiful patio, surrounded by your friends. 

Spencer sat to your left, like always. Amanda and Angela were sitting on the other side of Spencer, Shayne and Courtney mirrored you and Spencer with Chanse next to them. 

“I’m not totally sure. Do we wanna both order something and split both?” Spencer asked. 

“That’s perfect.” You replied, “Everything sounds good. I don't think I’d be able to choose just one anyway.” 

Your waiter had brought out your drinks and a few appetizers that Courtney and Shayne insisted on everyone trying. You and Spencer were currently splitting the last piece of bread from the basket, arguing over which half was bigger. 

“Oh my god Y/N?” You heard a familiar voice ask. You turned, realizing you recognized the voice because stood a few yards away was your ex. You froze for a moment. You hadn’t seen him in at least three years. The last time being at a mutual friends going away party when they moved to Europe. 

“Shaun.. Hey..” You replied, still confused, standing to face him. 

“God it’s been a minute, huh?” Shaun asked, giving you a friendly hug that you reciprocated. 

“What, like two? Three? years?” You asked. 

“I think so! You look good, new hair? I like it.” He smiled.

“Well thank you. You look good too.” You responded, noticing how much muscle he had gained. He had always been kinda a gym rat but wasn’t into massive muscle growth when you were together. 

Your food came while you were talking, giving Shaun the notice to leave. “I don’t want to keep you from your lunch. Is that plate yours?” He asked, pointing to your order. You nodded. “Taste hasn’t changed then.” He remarked before giving you a half hug and walking away. 

You sat back down, joining your friends, only to be met with amused stares. “What?” You asked, placing your napkin back in your lap. 

“Who was that hunk?” Chanse asked. 

“That’s just Shaun.” You replied casually, beginning to half your meal for Spencer. 

“Well clearly there was something there.” Spencer huffed under his breath. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing, it’s just clearly you had history with this Shaun.” He replied, not looking at you as he portioned part of his food to you. 

“We used to date.” You admitted, earning a chorus of teases from the table, minus Spencer. “It was like three years ago!” 

“Why’d you break up? He’s… whoo!” Amanda asked, wiggling her eyebrows at you. 

“We just didn’t work out, the feeling just stopped being there. We only dated for like 10 months.” 

Most of the lunch ended up with the group interrogating you about your relationship with Shaun. Your relationship was fine and ended amicably so there wasn’t much to say. 

You noticed that Spencer didn’t contribute much to any conversation. You tried to pass it off as him just being tired since he has been working extra hard lately. 

You and Spencer had carpooled to lunch, like you do most days. Usually your drives are filled with laughter, discussion, or singing but this time it was almost silent, save for the music playing softly.

Spencer was one of your favorite people. You and him had instantly clicked and had become good friends ever since. So his silence was unnerving. You tried to talk to him about it but he shut the conversation down and beelined it to his desk when you made it back to the office, promptly putting on his headphones. 

—

God what a fucking idiot. Spencer thought, feeling insecure about himself. He was literally jacked. Why would she be interested in me?

Spencer has liked you for a long time. He was immediately attracted to you upon meeting, he thought you were stunning and had great style. The more he got to know you the more he fell for you. He thought you had such a beautiful mind. You were so kind and generous. Not to mention you were hilarious and had a very similar humor to him. He genuinely thought you were the perfect woman. 

Your friendship had developed even further a few months ago when you spent the night at his place after a long night. While Spencer was aware of his feelings for you it was solidified that night as you were peacefully sleeping in his bed. 

He thought that your friendship was moving into more romantic territory recently but seeing your ex made him feel like he was wrong. Shaun was 6 foot 2 and had muscles larger than Shaynes. He could never compare to him. 

Deciding he would never have a chance with you he wasn’t sure how to be around you right now. Every time you laughed Spencer swore it was the most beautiful thing ever, how was he supposed to just casually be around you?

He didn’t want to ignore you but he needed to come to terms with only ever being your friend. 

—

The work day was wrapping up, almost everyone was packing their things and saying their goodbyes. Spencer still hadn’t said a word to you. He managed to evade you every time you tried to talk to him. You had filmed a video for the pit channel but you could tell your energy was low and off. Spencer had never acted like this with you and it hurt. You didn’t think you said or did anything to offend him. You were running through the day, retracing your steps to figure out what happened. 

You had breakfast with Spencer at work, had two meetings, filmed a games video– and everything was normal. Then everyone broke for lunch and you went out with the group, then you saw Shaun, then you– Then you saw Shaun. 

Shit. 

You knew Spencer was still in the office, he always stays an extra 30-45 minutes everyday. You waited a little longer, allowing most of the office to leave before you made your way to Spencer.

“Hey,” You began, easing into things. 

“Uh, hey.” He replied, quickening his packing to leave before any real conversation could begin.

“You’re so much better.” You added, not wanting him to be able to walk away. 

“I’m sorry?” He replied, confused. 

“You’re so much better than him, than Shaun.” You breathed, ready to bear your heart. 

“I- I don’t understand?” 

“You make me laugh so much and you’re so caring and- and you’re my best friend. I haven’t even thought about Shaun in years until I saw him today. You know who I do think about? You. You Spencer. I think about you everyday.” You finished, breathless. Spencer didn’t say anything, he just stared at you. “Please say something.” 

“I’m such an idiot aren’t I?” He asked finally. You didn’t say you wanted him explicitly but Spencer could hear it, he knew you so well. 

“The biggest I know.” You laughed, “But I love you for it.” 

He pulled you into a hug. This was what you loved, Spencer hugged you like you were the most valuable thing on Earth, he held you like you would disappear, he always did and said everything right. 

“Please don’t avoid me like that again.” You mumbled into his shoulder. 

“Never again.” He promised, squeezing you a little tighter before pulling away, leaving his hands resting on your hips. “Come over tonight?” 

“I would love that.” You smiled, placing a kiss on his cheek.

[mrsackermannx]

lies | ino takuma

tags: angry (argument) sex, intruder role play, unprotected sex, sorcerer ino/non-sorcerer girlfriend, degradation kink, soft ending, not beta read.

authors note: @p00pdev1l jazz i meant to send this to you on asks and then it got super long but i swoon at the thought of being ino’s non- sorcerer gf idk there’s something about it didbdksjsksj. ive not uploaded any writing for so long bc there’s sm different ways and things i want to write and idk how to start idk…this lowkey is it i suppose. i miss writing hehe been so busy but yeh ENJOY MY DEPRAVITY.

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You love your life with Ino, and he loves his life with you. No matter what a curse throws at him, he knows as soon as he sees you at the end of the day that it’ll all be worth it.

But it’s one night that he comes home especially roughed up…

You’re watching TV, but you hear him shuffling into your apartment, carefully locking up behind him, taking off his shoes. “Hello pretty girl,” he murmurs, voice almost hoarse. He leans over you to kiss your forehead. “I'm off to bed, you should too…”

You’re tired of the whispering phone calls, the leaving you to run away god knows where in the middle of dinner, you’re sick of not being able to tell your friends what Ino does exactly?

All these lies, all this mystery. You call him out on it and it leads to a fight…

It’s your sharp, “I’ve been waiting up for you,” that hits him right in the gut.

“Baby, I tell you not to.”

“Tell me?”

“i meant ask, baby,” his voice lowers, almost breaking from exhaustion. He's so close to snapping. Too close.“I mean ask—so-please, not now.”

His usually sunny demeanour is all gone. He’s working so hard for the recognition of so many people, you being one of them. He wants to be good enough, he wants to exorcise as many curses as he can. He has his own goals, his own vision of the future he wants you in. But he’s so fucking exhausted right now.

He’s not usually like this, he’s usually so reactive it’s almost unbearable. So you push and push.

“I don't even know what you do. What kind of guy are you? Who have I been dating-“

“What. What did you just say?”

You blink twice.

He’s never raised his voice at you like this before. It’s not that it scares you but it ignites something in you, stroking something dark and shameful.

He cages you against the wall, glaring at you. He smells like Ino, looks like Ino, caramel hair tousled and tucked behind each ear. As usual, so devastatingly, boyishly handsome, but his energy is sharper, his grin gone.

“Telling me you don’t know who I am? Huh? Then why the fuck do you let me inside you every night when I come home? If I’m so bad? If I’m this bad guy you don’t know? You let a stranger touch you? Huh?”

“Takuma-“

He gives you such a pointed stare your words escape you. One arm cages you below him whilst the other cups your chin. “You think I’m some kind of bad guy? Don’t you know me by now? Haven’t we been through enough?”

This is necessary communication, he knows it, you know it. But that doesn’t stop the suffocating tension crackling between you two any less bearable.

“I know you’re a good guy, in how you treat me, who you are, but I have no idea who you are sometimes and it’s— it’s, something that i-i…”

You’re getting choked up, but you’re also overheating. Ino is never like this, never so the opposite of himself, never so full of darkness and not his light.

But you guessed it was a good thing you weren’t afraid of the dark, or the man you loved so dearly in front of you.

“What?”

“-it scares me,” you blurt.

“But you like being scared.”

His voice is rough, teetering on the line between restraint and pure lust. He's neither asking nor stating.

“You like it when I come home in the dead of night.” He cups your pussy, your silk nightdress bunching against his palm, he clicks his tongue at the heat. “Sneaking in beside you, you practically baring your pussy for me to use, abuse and—fuck, until you’re begging for more, and more-“

“Takuma,” you whimper into his chest, he smells so like him, he strokes through your hair like he always does, so full of love. He’s holding your most intimate part of you like he owns you, you suppose he does. You suppose you’ve been in the palm of his hand from the moment you met him.

“Not so innocent then are you? When you’re taking my cock in your cunt in the middle of the night? Begging for it, begging for me to wreck this tight little-“

“Takuma! Please.”

He alternates pressure on your clit, over and over, feeling your drip down his fingers.

“I bet you’d like my mask too? Wouldn’t you?”

His hand wraps around your throat, contrasting the way his thumb was smoothing across your jaw. You always felt so special with Ino, like his lover, regardless of whether you were fighting.

“What mask?” Your voice was so shaky you barely recognised it. His hand mapped down his torso to his pocket. Then he slipped on a black mask with nothing but holes for his eyes. “So, this? This is who you are?”

He hated this. He hated you thinking he was some bad guy, some good for nothing criminal.

“Who do you want me to be?” he edged closer, his voice slow and dripping with something dangerous, something that made your pupils dilate, and your pulse run.

“How about tonight I be the bad guy you want me to be,” he drawled. His hands skimmed up and down your sides, admiring…staking their claim on what was beneath them.

“Take me, Takuma.”

A small smile tugged at his lips.

“Fuck you?” he shoved his knee between your thighs, “Or take you?” He squeezed your neck until you moaned, “You and your control? Your body? Your soul.”

“Both.”

It was a blur before you processed that Ino had you flipped against the wall. That he was already brushing your entrance with his cock and then teasing you against it. The head of him almost slipped in, over and over. But he had you flailing and whimpering like a desperate mess instead.

“Shush now, pretty girl. I don’t care if your boyfriend comes home. I’m using this cunt as my own anyway.”

“Oh my—fuck.”

That was it. Your control, your pain, you let it all go. You let it free, you let the wild throbbing in your core take over. You would have fallen to the floor without the wall and Ino standing firm behind you. You gave into your sinful desires.

He trailed his hands down your body, then in a movement so unexpected you cried out as he tore apart your night dress. “Let's hope your boyfriend doesn’t come home to you getting fucked like this, angel.”

He thrusts into you in one brutal slam. “Fuck I love ruining good girls like you,” he sounded so undone that it had you close to breaking, moaning with every slam into your pussy.

“Your cunts are made to be broken into like this, waiting for every drop of cum, squeezing me so tight like that. Fluttering on cock that you’ve been craving so badly, you—pretty —little—slut.”

It’s a primal fucking, and Ino seems to take everything out on you, but you submit so easily you’re succumbing to pleasure you’ve never felt. The things he says are dark and twisted, but the way he holds you is anything but, he holds you like you’re precious, even if he calls you his slut, to him you’re his angel.

When you start to match his rhythm, bucking out your hips to take in more of him, he comes so powerfully you feel his tears slide your back. Panting and groaning out your name, “I love you,” his voice shakes, and he’s breathless as he locks you in his arms.

“You’re so precious to me. More than my own life. More than any goal. I’ll tell you anything, and everything.”

You’re overcome, reeling from your orgasm, but nevertheless you accept his embrace just as tight. “I love you, Takuma.”

“I love you,” he chants, for a while. Until you’re sleeping, bodies coiled together, his hand in your hair. And it feels good. Too good to have finally told you everything.

[ashsimpsalot]

Mera naam... (Monkey man Kid X Reader)

A/n: uhhhh idk if I like it as much as coconut & honey but enjoy!

'you should never lie'

his mother once told him with angry eyes that he hated to see so much. When Kid was just 8 years old, he had lied to his poor mother about going to play near the river just in front of their humble home, instead, going off far away into the market because he wanted to buy the bangle she's been eyeing for a while.

He's been a proper good boy, he swore, he helped Mr Deepesh, their next door neighbour, by cleaning up his chicken coop for money. He didn't mean to worry her.

'You shouldn't lie to the people you love, even when you think it's for a good reason, a lie is a lie,' she had worriedly say while hugging her boy to her chest.

He didn't think those words would haunt him 20 years later. Kid didn't even mean to lie to you, he didn't even mean to fall for you, but he had, and his lies only bury him into a deeper hole.

"Bobby? You're ready to go?" your sweet voice snapped him out of his thoughts, the beer he's been nursing while you pack up the kitchen still in his hand.

"yeah," he nods, giving you a small smile. You wrapped your hands around his arm so easily as if you've been doing it for years, in reality it's only been 4 months.

4 months of lies

4 months of love

His mind wandered back to how he got here, with your hands wrapped around his arm, heading for your motorcycle. Was it that night? When he first entered his shift, he noticed you eyeing him. He didn't think much of it, you were a chef after all. You could've just been curious about the new staff.

Was it when he keeps staring at you too? Unintentionally?

But it's definitely when you start smiling at him. He's never had any other thought than revenge then this.. You... You happened.

"hey handsome, where's your mind travelling to?" you asked so sweetly he didn't even mind. Kid didn't know much about himself but he knew he hated when anyone else interrupt his thought process, not you though, never you.

Kid smiled and shook his head. "nowhere, right here," he covered it up with a quick peck on your lips and took your helmet from you, placing it onto your head and pinning it on for you, then with a stupid smile on his face he lifted the visor to boop your nose. You chuckled.

Fuck, is this love? This overwhelming feeling over the slightest thing you do?

He put on his own helmet and got on the bike, waiting till you get on too. His waist never felt so empty until you wrapped your arms around them.

4 months ago he didn't even have his own room, now he's heading to "our store" getting off the bike and ordering "the usual" and going straight to "our spot"

He doesn't even know who he is anymore.

Your kiss on his lips brought him back to reality.

"congrats, baby, on making it to VIP floor." you said with a smile on your lips.

If only you knew why he wanted to be on VIP floor so bad.

"thank you, jaan," he whispered softly, arms around your waist, swaying left to right lightly as if dancing to a song. He leaned down and kissed you again. "what's this? What's wrong?" damn you, you always somehow knew, your finger tracing his eyebrows as if to pull the frown out of his face.

He didn't know what to say. Tell you what? He's not at all who you think he is? He's plotting to kill a man? Burn the hotel? Kill one of the most influential fucking man in India?

"hey, you can tell me, Bobby, I'm here," you called that name so lovingly he had to physically fight from flinching.

In a perfect world where he isn't such a coward he'll open his mouth and tell you the truth but the truth is he's just that, a coward.

"i swear it's nothing, jaanu, just... Tired," he smiled and hugged you burying his nose in your neck, scared that he'll forget what you smell like once you find out who he is.

Your fingers snaked into his curls, playing with them like always, like it's yours, like he's yours.

"I've got you, always," you whispered into his ear, planting a soft kiss after.

He hope you meant that

Because after almost 2 months of disappearing, hiding from the police in the temple with the hijras, he's back, at your house, knocking.

You opened the door, you looked great but your eyes looks almost dead, somber.

"jaanu," that's all he could whisper, seeing you again is...

You tried to close the door but his reflexes made him able to hold the door open.

"please, please just let me explain myself"

You looked at him and scoff. "explain what? I don't even know who you are, what could you possibly say to me? What was your plan? Kill Rana and pin it on me or something? Is that it?" your voice gets shakier and shakier by each sentence, your grip on the door loosen. Kid quickly shook his head.

"no, no, never, jaanu," he had wrapped his arms around your crying figure, his body is half through the door, cupping your cheek and tenderly caressed your tears away.

"I trusted you! I loved you!" you cried out and all he could do was hold onto you while you smack your fists on his chest again and again.

"I know, i know," he whispered, he lead you inside as you limped against him.

On the couch he held you, tighter than usual, he lets you cry onto his chest, not caring about the condition of his shirt.

"you didn't call, you didn't explain, you just vanished, I thought you fucking died!" you cried out.

"I know jaan, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" thats all he can offer. He kept whispering apologies and sweet nothings into your ear until you end up falling asleep on his chest. He laid you down on the couch, planted a soft kiss on your forehead and went to the kitchen. Skillfully manoeuvring through your kitchen, making a meal as he's been there countless of time. He didn't keep track of time, only glancing at the clock when he hears a croak of your voice calling his 'name'.

"I'm here jaan," Kid said walking towards the couch to see your eyes teared again.

"I thought you left again," you said with a whine in your voice, he sat next to you, arm pulling your towards him to kiss your head. "I'm here," he repeated.

"I went to make you some food, it's pretty early I don't think you've eaten," he explained, you simply nodded.

"I... I want you to explain to me who you are and what's happening." you said voice beyond tired.

"my name isn't Bobby,"

"yeah no shit," you scoffed, he only nodded, he's glad really, you're letting him hold you, touch you that's a good sign, right?

" my name... Is Kid. I worked at Queenie's hotel because I'm... Plotting revenge on Rana and Baba shakti. For killing my mother." his voice grew quieter and quieter. The obvious pain in his voice when he mentioned his mother.

"my hands," you looked at those hands, his scarred hands he meant, the ones you would plant kisses on after a night of passion, the ones you loved so much. "they got hurt when I tried to put out the fire my mother was set on... By Rana Singh," he said, face grew harder, voice turned colder.

You stared into his eyes. "Kid," you tried calling his name. He looked at you, all attention on you as if nothing else matters.

"I swear I didn't mean to rope you into this. I didn't mean to hurt you, I couldn't... I couldn't stay away from you, I tried. You consume me, my thoughts, I've never thought of anything else but revenge all my life and you walked into it and make me feel alive again. As if I could have any other life than just death after revenge. I never wanted to live but when I hold you I feel this fear of death that I've never felt before. Understand that all was real, my feelings for you was real, is real," he begged, his hands on your cheeks again.

"but you tried to kill him anyway, why?"

He shook his head. "when I saw him. When I saw that bastard I lost it. Why does he get to live his life while my mother is ashes somewhere on the forest floor?" he grunted, face angered.

You do what you always does, your finger start tracing his eyebrows, his face visibly soften. Like he could breathe again. He took your other hand and kissed it, leaning into your touch. He had been craving you, and you knew. "you're going after him again aren't you?"

"yeah" was all he could breathe out.

You sighed but you understood. The rage he has, it's all he knows.

"will you come back?"

His face lighten. "you want me to?" he asks, hopeful.

"always, always come back to me."

"but I'll be a fugitive by then," he said worried, he's not sure worried that you'll change your mind or that you'll be a fugitive too if you chose to follow him.

You shook your head. "I don't care, come back, we'll run together, I rather not live without you by my side. But Kid.."

"hm?" he asked, looking at you intently with your hands on his. "don't lie to me ever again. Ever." you warned.

He nodded his head and pulled you into him. "never, jaanu." he kissed you deeply, deeper than he ever did that day, lead your body the way he missed. He devoured you full that day, passion spilling into physical touches. He need you to understand his love. He needs you to scream his name. His real name.

[jae-bummer]

A Little Air

Request: Hi! I just discovered your account and I wanted to tell you that I LOVE the way you write,I´m kinda embarrassed to ask for this tho- I wanted to ask you if you could do prompt 8 with Bangchan,like someone introduces him to YN and uses thoses lines and then she falls in love or something like that? idk if I explained well,but I would really appreciate if you did this! ♡

Prompt:

8) "He has tired dad energy." "He doesn't have kids." "Still a DILF."

Pairing: Stray Kids Bang Chan x Reader

Genre: Fluff

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Parties weren't really your thing.

And that's okay! Parties didn't need to be your thing. You much preferred things that were your thing. Coffee dates, reading books, going out to check the mail to say you saw sunlight that day. All of these were excellent things, and they were yours.

Your best friend, Bee, on the other hand, had very different things, such as parties.

And that's why you had been dragged to this one.

She tried to frame it as an "intimate get together," but upon arriving, you hadn't realized that nearly 40-50 people sharing a space was considered "intimate."

Glaring up at her, you tried to imagine small daggers flying from your pupils and into the side of her cheek. You didn't want to actually harm her, as they were very tiny, inconsequential daggers, but you wanted to have them annoy her, just like you were annoyed.

"You okay?" she hummed, her eyes constantly scanning the room around her. "You look like you have something in your eye."

You did. It was called revenge. "Why am I heeeere?"

"Because you're my best friend and I enjoy your company," she nodded, finally deigning to look your way.

Your expression remained deadpan as she burst into laughter. "What?"

"This is cruel and unusual punishment," you pouted, attempting to cross your arms with your drink still in your hand.

"Oh, come oooon!" she gasped. "It's not so bad! We're in the corner of the room, away from everyone, people watching. You love people watching!"

The bitch had you there.

"Hey, you two!" a familiar voice tugged at your attention. Looking over, a mutual friend was shuffling over.

"Hey, Eunji," you and Bee responded, one of you obviously much more enthusiastic than the other.

"What are you guys doing tucked away over here?" she asked, settling in at your opposite side.

"Reading the room," Bee grinned. "You know a lot of these people better than we do, so I have to ask...who is that?"

"Wasting no time on pleasantries," Eunji laughed. "Getting right into the important stuff, I see."

Motioning with her eyes, you followed Bee's line of sight until you too were looking at her subject of interest. It was not surprising in the least that this guy had snagged her attention. He was occupying one end of a velvet couch, sleepily following the conversation of the two men standing in front of him. Man-spread in an oddly desirable way, he held a drink by the edge of the rim in between his knees, his pose completely relaxed. Dressed from head to toe in black, you were surprised to admit that he made eye bags work. You had never seen someone look so tired and simultaneously hot at the same time.

"His name is Bang Chan," Eunji continued.

"He has tired dad energy," you murmured to no one in particular.

"He doesn't have kids," Eunji snorted, joining you in your ogling.

"Don't care," Bee said, shaking her head. "Still a DILF."

"Oh god," you gasped, immediately turning your attention elsewhere. You had been spotted. He was now looking at the three of you looking at him.

Bee continued to stare, a small smile on her lips. "I think you should talk to him, Y/N."

"I'm sorry, I should what?" you gasped, turning sharply to face your friend.

"Why not?" she asked, tilting her head. "He is very much your type."

"He is very much everyone's type!" you snapped. "Have you seen him?"

"I'm about to see him even better," she grinned. "He's coming this way."

Fuck.

Sure as shit, as soon as you turned your head back in his direction, you saw that he had stood and said his goodbyes to the men he had previously been talking to.

It may have been your imagination, but time seemed to slow as he strolled toward you. The sound of birds chirping and a few "sha la la's" could be heard playing in the distance.

"Excuse me," he said, much more cheerfully than you had anticipated. "I thought I'd come over and introduce myself. My name is Chris."

"Hi, Chris," the three of you chimed, clearly all taken aback.

This caused him to breath in a laugh, exposing you to his devastating smile. A spark danced in his eyes as he looked to each of your friends before settling his attention on you.

"We were just going to grab another drink," Bee interrupted, grabbing hold of Eunji's wrist. "You two want anything?"

"You haven't finished your first drink," you said in an attempt to get your friends to stay. You knew what they were doing, and you didn't appreciate it one bit.

"I want something different," Bee snapped back before shooting an awkward smile at Chan.

Before you could even blink, your friends disappeared into the throng of partygoers. Slowly turning back toward your newest acquaintance, you tried to come up with something thoughtful to say.

"How'd you end up here?" you blurted out instead.

Chan smiled easily again, watching you as if you were entertaining him. "This is my friend's apartment. What about you?"

"I was dragged here by the one who suddenly felt parched," you grumbled.

"Dragged?" he asked, lifting his brows.

"I'm not great at parties," you admitted, looking away from him in embarrassment. "I'm not great at...conversing or the whole...people thing."

"I think you're doing just fine," he cooed, his tone somehow comforting AND seductive. "But I totally understand. It can get to be really overwhelming."

You'd been talking for about twelve seconds, and he got it. Why didn't your friends get it?

"Do you want to get some air?" he asked, seeming to notice how stiff you were. "I have special balcony privileges."

"I'm talking with a VIP then?" you smirked.

"The V-est of the IPs," he grinned. Remaining silent, you realized he was waiting for your answer, not just assuming you wanted to go with him.

Well, that was refreshing. "I wouldn't mind stepping outside for a bit."

"Great," he nodded. Turning away from you, he began walking toward the opposite side of the apartment, parting the sea of people effortlessly. Almost forgetting to follow behind, you were shocked back into reality when he looked over his shoulder and intertwined your fingers in his.

Trying to remind yourself to remain calm, your heart skipped a beat, nonetheless.

You wouldn't normally go anywhere with a strange man you had met at a party, but there was just something about Chan that put you at ease. It was hard to explain, but his whole vibe was soft and comfortable. Like a human version of a hug.

Plus, there were more than enough people here to act as witnesses if he happened to push you off of the balcony.

Guiding you down a hallway and through a bedroom, Chan opened up a set of clear glass doors before stepping outside. As soon as the cold night air hit your face, you felt your body begin to relax.

"It's so quiet out here," you murmured, dropping Chan's hand and moving to stand at his side. You instantly regretted breaking the contact but were much too awkward to act normally if you maintained it.

"It's nice, isn't it?" he hummed, resting his forearms against the railing. "Hyunjin has a lot of these parties. This balcony has become an excellent hide out for when things get to be too much."

"Sounds like you're quite the party animal," you joked, pushing playfully at his shoulder with yours.

"Hardly!" he grinned. "I have a lot of friends, so I know I have some social skills, but I prefer to not be in a party setting. Don't get me wrong, it's fine sometimes, but I'd much rather hang out with people I'm already close with than be forced to meet new people."

Ouch, so much for being a human hug.

Instantly realizing his mistake, Chan jerked his head up and spun toward you. "No, no, no, no," he repeated quickly. "I didn't mean it like that. I mean, you're lovely. I mean...I should probably just stop talking, shouldn't I?"

Letting out a huffed laugh, it was your turn to lean on the balcony and stare into the city below. "It wasn't personal."

"It really wasn't," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Man, really mucked up that one, didn't I?"

"It did not win you any gold stars."

Throwing himself beside you again, he tilted his face to gaze at you. "Forgive me?"

"Already forgiven," you hummed. Chancing a look his way, you offered a small smile. "It's easy when I hardly know you."

"Very valid point," he nodded. Letting the air settle into silence, it was a few minutes before he finally spoke again. "Would you let me know you?"

"Sorry?" you asked, not sure if you heard him clearly. "Weren't you just saying you didn't like meeting new people?"

"That may be a slight twist on what I said," he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "But that was before."

"And now?"

"And now I'm on the balcony with someone who is clearly out of my league and I'm floundering for any type of brownie points," he smiled shyly.

"Out of," you stammered. "Out of your league?"

He started chuckling again. "You're doing a great job at repeating things I've said."

Shaking your head, you tried to work out his meaning. "Like you're doing charity work?"

"Whoa," he breathed, furrowing his brows. "No, like you're likely too good for me."

"I think..." you paused, the information slowly seeping into your understanding. Did he really think that? "Someone hit you on the head very hard and you aren't thinking straight."

This caused Chan to choke out a surprised laugh. "Come oooon. You know who is the attractive one on this balcony."

"Pfft," you snorted. "Sure, Chris."

A shiver rippled across your shoulders, causing you to wrap your arms around yourself. What had once been an energizing chill had turned much cooler as the night stretched on.

Noticing this, Chan cocked a brow before he began biting his lip. Your eyes immediately zeroed in on the motion, trying to remember to breathe through something so simply sexy.

"Do you mind if I-" he began, motioning with his arms.

You weren't exactly sure what he was getting at, but at this point, he could likely do whatever he wanted with you, and you'd still thank him for the opportunity. Giving a weak nod, you were surprised when he pivoted you to face the city again and wrapped his arms around you. Bracing his hands on the balcony railing, he sandwiched you in between the metal and the front of his torso.

Sure, you were immediately warmed by his close proximity, but you were also that much closer to passing out. Being in this range, he was even more intoxicating than he had been before.

"Better?" he cooed; his breath heavy in your ear.

"Much," you squeaked, trying to remain calm.

Resting his chin on your shoulder, he let out a light sigh. "You never answered me."

Suddenly every question he had asked tonight flew from your brain. "What did you ask?"

"Would you let me know you?"

You thought you were going to swallow your tongue. "I'd like you to."

"Good," he cooed. "I look forward to it then."

Man, you'd have to send Bee an edible arrangement after this. Who knew you'd like parties after all?

[axcel-lucci]

Support

Trafalgar Law x reader (fluff? Angst??)

A/n: it's currently 12:47, idk why but I can't sleep lol. Prolly because I need to write 200 word essay for mon- oh wait, that's today.

My masterlist

Upon the crew hearing about their captain's plan of infiltrating dress Rosa and possibly die in it, they were totally against him to the point that NO ONE entered the navigation room to drive the sub.

So they just... Floated around for the time being.

Law was getting frustrated more and more as he packs his bags and orders the crew to do as he says, if they don't, they get dismembered.

It doesn't matter though, the crew was willing to get their hearts taken away than their captain being away for good.

The crew's scribe, (y/n), is entirely unaffected by the news. In fact, they support him.

Not because they don't care, but because they know that he won't die. He can't.

(Y/n) has always been distant and cold to the crew, it's just something they got used to as their mannerism since their work as a scribe is rather gruesome and even tiresome.

Them and Law work closely together, usually for reports and documenting.

Law was grumbling to himself in his room after having another argument with the crew about his plans, he heard someone knock on the door.

"If you're going to convince me to stay, dream on because I am standing my fucking ground!" He yelled out of frustration

"How rude, captain." He heard their voice, slightly muffled by the door.

"Oh... It's you... Come in..." He muttered before seeing them open and close the door behind them.

"Look, captain. Find a common ground with them... Do you know how annoying it is when you guys scream? I can't do my work properly" they scoffed

"I know... It's just..."

"Captain." They called as he looked at them, "they're worried. They're just worried for you. Assure them you'll come back, give them something to hold on to. It's not practical, sure, but... It's the only way for them to let you off. Give them a run down version as to why..."

(Y/n) knows the reason, of course they do considering Law vents to them a lot in the day as they work together.

He sighed softly, "it's just... I don't want them to see me weak..."

"Captain... Your past is not a weakness, if anything, bearing yourself open to them is a sign of strength. You are willing to open yourself to the people you protect... Maybe then they'd realize that it's alright. That you'd be alright..."

Law seemed to think it over just a bit before getting up from the bed with a grunt, "you're right..."

"I'm always right."

"Yeah, yeah... Whatever... But still... Thanks..."

They nodded slightly, "you're welcome."

After that, he told them the run down version, sure a few tears were she'd, but the crew finally allowed him to leave.

So much for being a captain.

But in the end, Law is able to leave for punk hazard while (y/n) and the others stay at Zou.

It was hard for a couple few days with no contact from their beloved captain, but when the news finally reached them, they were overjoyed.

Of course (y/n) was no difference, but they just knew he'd be alright. As if they're proud that he's THAT strong to face the man he vowed to destroy.

Once Law was back into the crew, everyone showered him with tears and even a few threats were made that if he does that again, they'd have no choice but to chase him.

(Y/n) only shakes their head at the childish remarks, but then again, this is now Law's only family since then. A found family.

Once they were alone, (y/n) and Law finally had a peaceful talk without the snots and tears of the crew.

"That was tiring..." He muttered

"I can tell... That... Strawhat kid, he's gotten stronger since we last saw his scrawny ass, huh?" (Y/n) says with a slight amusement.

"True... He has gotten stronger... But he's still so annoying." Law grumbled

"You speak as though that kid didn't help you achieve your goal, no?"

Law could only chuckle, "yeah... Right."

Silence fell between them as they admired the beauty of Zou's forest.

"Say... (Y/n)-ya..." He called as they looked at him, "wanna watch the fireworks with me? I heard they'll set it up for tonight."

"What a selfish request, but since it's the captain's special request, I cannot refuse."

It made him laugh a bit.

It felt... Good to Law... To be able to laugh again... He looked at (y/n) with such adoration that he didn't notice they were calling him, "what...?" He muttered as soon as he snaps back.

"Daydreaming? Seriously dude? Sheesh..."

"My bad"

"Yeah, sure"

....

"Everyone's here, huh?" (Y/n) hummed softly as Law powered up his devil fruit and transported them somewhere excluded.

Shachi and Penguin saw him do this and knew his plan. Actually, they were actively looking for the two as soon as they disappeared into somewhere.

"Ooh, fancy." (Y/n) hummed softly, "clear view of the sky."

Law nods slightly, "hey... Uh..."

"Hm?"

Law looks back at (y/n) as they stare back at him with wonder

"Don't be mad, okay?"

"Uh... Sure...?"

The fireworks set off, momentarily replacing (y/n)'s attention to watch the colorful bursts of different elements in the sky resulting into blasts of colours.

"(Y/n)..." Law called as they turned back to him.

And with a blink of an eye, as well as Law letting his instincts take over, he grabbed her tightly and pressed his lips against theirs as if they've both done this before.

(Y/n) couldn't help but melt into the kiss softly and kiss him right back.

The background noise of others cheering and the fireworks blasting off into the dark sky was now just a muffled mess as the two had their attentions on one another as the kiss eventually deepened before pulling away for air.

The both turned away, embarrassed at what just happened while panting breaths.

They both eventually looked back into each other's eyes, before laughing softly at how absurd the situation just has been.

"I... Wanna do that again..." Law muttered

"Oh yeah? What's stopping you?" They smirked

"This long ass speech I prepared"

"Oh wow. You came prepared? Let's hear it."

He could feel himself laugh again before composing himself, "(y/n)... This may be cheesy or corny but... Ever since I met you and worked with you, I can't help but feel comfortable and lightheaded in a good way... You're always there for me... You... Support me... I can't thank you enough for that... It may be a shallow reason but... Will you be my partner...? Hopefully for life...?"

They smiled at him and kissed the tip of his nose, "fine... That speech was long as fuck."

They both laughed eventually.

[furiousgoldfish]

(Feel free to just post this on ur blog with or without a response. I just thought I’d leave this here in ur ask box. But if you have advice I’ll definitely take it)

My mom is… something, that’s for sure.

To preface, I’m 20, her one and only child (daughter) and I feel like I’ve had to parent her more than she ever parented me. Your blog (and my friends) have helped me to realise that.

Sometimes she’ll start talking in a younger voice if it’s just me and her at home and she’ll call me “Mommy.” And it’s weird and idk. Just 10 minutes ago she told me “You’re going to come and sit outside with me, right mommy?” And she’s always been like this, even as far back as I can remember as a child. And we weren’t playing a game or anything. She was just Like That sometimes.

And it’s not some sort of inside joke or anything. Sometimes she’ll do the same thing to my dad and call him daddy, but it’s definitely not a sex thing.

My mom also likes to make me promise her that I’m living with her forever, as well as giving her grandkids (I don’t want ANY KIDS), and she gets mad at me when I dispute either of those things with her. And then I have to comfort her because”I made her cry and it’s all my fault.”

She is also able bodied 100% and yet makes me get her everything. It feels like I can’t leave, and that I’m always waiting on her hand and foot. I do have a car, and I do have money (that she has some control over, but I’m gonna make another bank account and move it over bit by bit so she’s not suspicious). She wants me to just live at home and take care of her because she’s always nauseous and the hospital isn’t able to fix it. Doctor told her it’s probably something mental.

And she’s such a different person in front of people vs at home.

She also tells people that my graduation day (I just finished a degree) is HER graduation day because “She worked hard for it.” And then she laughs about it! She said the same thing with my high school graduation. Nvm living vicariously thru me, I’m doing all the work and she’s trying to take credit!

Idk man just a little something I needed to get off my chest. I’m tired, boss

🍓Strawberry Anon

I got cold chills when you said she called YOU Mommy. That is... next level of parentification, I'm stunned. That is one of the creepiest thing I've read, I'm still chilled from reading that. That is nightmarish. There is something deeply wrong with this behaviour. That is not a harmless role reversal, you are a child, you need a parent, she doesn't, she's responsible for providing you a parent. And she just launches into this play with no explanation like it's normal? Horrifying.

Abusers forcing you to comfort them after forcing their own projections and desires onto you is also disturbing, she shouldn't have expected any of that of you in the first place, and you having to comfort her makes it seem like you're responsible not just for her expectations, but for all of her emotions. In general, children shouldn't be forced to comfort their parents, parents need to to turn to other adults, someone with the same emotional development to get comfort, or go to therapy.

I think it's possible she's sabotaging your social life or opportunities in life by forcing you to be her constant servant, it's true you'd be tied to her and unable to do your own activities, be out with friends, be out dating or having fun, you have all of that taken away from you. This is also not fair, you should not be responsible for her in this way, in this situation people can hire in-house help or turn to their adult family members, not a daughter! This should not be on your shoulders, and sabotaging your own life.

Her being a different person at home vs in front of people just confirms she knows she's abusive and that people would not take that well, so she acts a different persona that will make her social image better. It lets abusers get away with a lot if they can play nice in public and make people disbelieve that this person could be abusive in private.

The graduation thing, one of my parents tried to do that too! Really everything needs to be about them, they can't handle not taking credit for everything good, while pretending all the bad stuff is not their fault. I think your mother is a narcissist.

You deserve credit for everything you did. You also deserve your life to be about you, your desires, your dreams, your decisions. You should get to have a fair chance, to do anything you want to do, for yourself. If she was a normal person, she'd be unable to stand the guilt of taking your life away from you. This isn't normal.

Thank you for sending me a message, and I'm sorry you have to deal with all this, I hope you get away from it! I don't exactly have an advice, but I want you to know that they took all of your decisions from you, and I want you to consider what would you want to do with your life if you were free, and didn't have all of this weighing you down. You deserve that kind of life, where you are supported in chasing your own wants and desires, without having to consider what your mother would think of it, and whether she'd just try to take the credit of everything you did your entire life.

[eithielk]

Omggg ur blogs are literally so perfect and I also feel like they're actually accurate likeee😭😭😭😭

Alsooo modern college zuko who was dragged to a party but he ends up chilling in the back smoking or whatever and he meets you there for the first time awwwwww nsnsnsnsns

I'm so curious how their interaction will be and then we drag him to danceee or we end playing some gamess🤭🤭 and like they start being a thing afteerrr

TYYSMM 💗💗 I appreciate the compliment and the request anon, I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO DAMN LONG, I JUST HAD THE CRAZIEST LIFE EVER. BUT EVEN SO its actualy been a while since I posted a new story, so sorry if it sucks my magic juice isnt what it used to be.

Strawberries and Cigarettes.

Tags: crack i forgot how to tag wtf, hidden angst idk 😭😭, written with female reader in mind, swearing, alcohol, smoking, puking??, mentions of making out but its not the reader dw

A/N: Like halfway through, I got the idea for the title cause I was listening to spotify, hence the mention of perfume.

The door creaked open, revealing the dark and messy clothes on the floor. Sokka adjusted his eyes to the darkness, shifting from each corner, trying to spot his dark haired friend.

"Are you awake bud..?"

A faint groan was heard followed by agressive shuffling from the bed. "..What do you want" a raspy voice replied, swiftly pushing himself off the duvet. His eyes scan the room for a moment before landing on a silhoette by the door.

"Wake up." Sokka exclaimed, turning on the lights, making his roommate groan and seek for shelter in his blankets. "Clean this up man– and what are you? A vampire?!" He ranted further, picking up what seemed to be dirty socks.

"It's 11 PM! Why should I be awake?!" He retorted, his voice a bit muffled from the pillows. Sokka shuffled his way around, finally sitting on the edge of his bed. "Becausee–"

He grabbed the blanket in one swift motion and shoved his phone into Zuko's eyes, "Suki and the girls are at this cool party down two blocks." He paused, his eyes filled with excitement while Zuko remained indifferent.

Zuko's eyes tried to adjust to the sudden array of light and the obvious tiredness, "So? Whats it got to do with me?" Shoving his phone away, rubbing off the little specks of dust in his eyes.

"Dude seriously! We cant miss this!" Sokka replied, "–Theres–like—cool.. –people!" He grunted each word, trying to pull his friends ass of the matress.

"Sokka, it's 11 PM on a school night."

"Oh come on! Its not like you wouldnt do the same with your study nonsense!"

"Studying is not nonsense!" He huffed out, swatting away his friends hand off him, before begrudgingly standing up, wobbling for a moment.

"Get out."

"Oh come o–"

"I'm gonna change!" Zuko yelled in annoyance, which made Sokka leave the room smiling. It wasnt that he had convince him, No. No way!

Zuko just decided that even if he were to decline, Sokka wouldnt let him sleep all night. Berating him with bountiful requests which if he was gonna be honest, he'd rather go to a stupid party than listen to him talk till the sun shines.

____________________________________________

Cut the scene to you, Why were you at this party?

The same question you asked yourself a million times before going. You tipped your cup slowly, watching your drink swirl around in a circle.

It wasnt really your a choice. A friend of yours said that someone from the other department invited her us to a party.

And obviously that meant you had to go with, because Avatar forbid a girl has hobbies.

And before you knew it, your outfit was already picked out and displayed on your bed.

You did your best to prepare, but you havent been really goong to many parties to really know what to go for. Just deciding to just go with some plain jewelry and your favorite strawberry perfume.

"Y/N! Lighten up will ya!" Your friend nudged your shoulders in a playful way, trying to get you to dance.

"Maybe next song." I replied, trying to act tired. And with a faint smile, I nudged her back to the dance floor. With a small pat behind my back, she made her way back to the dance floor.

This was now your nth drink, and in all honesty, it seemed like you werent stopping anytime soon.

You've sat on your high-horse of a chair for what felt like eternity. But it was really just 30 minutes. You sat and drank and watched your friends dance, mingle, flirt, make out for 30 minutes, while you get no game.

Okay, maybe a little too harsh, but it was your choice to sit and stay. The opportunity came and you made your choice, your sad sad choice.

With little concious you had left, you spot one of your friends walking towards you, gathering all the willpower you have to speak, "Done dirty dancing?"

Your friend laughs, does she finds your misery humorous? Or is she pitying you? "Enough drinking, more dancing!" She replied, dragging your arms towards the dance floor.

But before you could even reach, you felt your insides burn and turn inside out.

"Holy shit, Y/N." Your friend yelped in panic, watching you clutch your stomach. You had just puked, all over the floor. What an entrance.

Your friends all gathered outside the bathroom floor, with one of them inside to help you puke out the rest of what you had drank. "Y/N.."

"I know, damn it." I wiped my hands over my mouth, the bitter taste still in my mouth. "I'm sorry for ruining your night."

"Its not that... We're worried about you." Your friend exclaimed, her hands behind your back, rubbing soft circles. "We.. We thought this party would lighten you up, after what happened.."

Her voice was drowned out by the loud music, it went in one side and left the other. You just focused on her lips and nodded.

Your friend helped you up off the bathroom floor, "Go outside, get some fresh air." She paused, pointing towards the back door, "I'll be back with a bottle of water, Okay?" Her eyes looked at you with that look. You hated that look.

____________________________________________

Now this was just great. Said party turned into some sort of germ fest filled with a bunch of thirsty young adults, and Zuko was stuck inside.

This was honestly the craziest he's seen by far. All the other parties he'd got dragged went to wasnt as wild as this.

He had just seen someone throw up all over 1/3 of the dance floor, and that was enough for him to get up on his feet.

Nobody would blame Zuko for leaving to have a break, is what he told himself.

Zuko stumbled across the dance floor, passing through the sweaty dancing intoxicated wave of bodies of supposive adults. Chances are, theres definately some underage teens in there, but it wasnt really his job to monitor them, was it?

The wave of fresh air hit his nose, filtering out the mix of alcohol in the room. Shifting through his pants to find a packet of cigarettes.

Zuko doesnt usually smoke, only does it when he's stressed, or alone, or bored, or–

Maybe its the daddy issues. His dad was an active user anyways, the apple doesnt fall far from the tree.

Of course he didnt really enjoy them, how could anyone enjoy the taste of bitter air? Well, his father did.

____________________________________________

"Mind if I join you?" His hands stops where its at, the cigarette barely touching his lips, his eyes landed on you. "..Be my guest."

Zuko cleared his throat, slowly letting his hands fall back to his pockets. "Please, continue." I gesture, trying to steady myself on the rails. "I dont mind the smoke."

He paused for a moment before sighing, bringing his hands back to his face. Grabbing the other side of his pocket to pick his lighter. His eyes trailed back to you.

"Hey, you're puke girl." Zuko said with a scoff, a small smirk between his lips. I laughed at his bluntness. "So you saw that?" My hands traced the rails carefully.

The scent of smoke and alcohol washed over us both. "Everyone did." He replied, exhaling the smoke from his lips. "Another memory to remember me by."

Zuko looked at you, his expression remained unreadable. "I don't know, maybe everyone will be too drunk to remember you." His attempts to comfort you was humor on your part.

"I'd hope so." You reply, staring out into the balcony. Feeling the cold autumn breeze hit you, a mix of your strawberry perfume and cigarette smoke.

"Whats your name mysterious stranger?" I asked, not bothering to turn my head. He let out an exhale, "Does it matter?"

"I'd like to know."

"Of course you do, Im sure you have a lot of questions in that drunken state of yours."

You let out a huff, maybe it was the alcohol talking but you felt a sudden wave of adrenaline, looking at this stranger you havent met. Maybe because consequences werent at play here.

"Im not drunk anymore, I puked it all out." I explained, making him chuckle. "Im not sure it works like that." He exhaled, the smoke going out of his lips.

The cigarette in his hands were staring to wilt, deteriorating slowly. Your eyes watched as he inhaled the smoke, "Why do people smoke?" I ask, clearing your throat a bit, a slip on your part.

His eyes followed yours, looking at the cigarette in his hands. He looked like he was gonna say something, but then just shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno."

My eyes examined him more, "Seriously, what's so great about it?" I ask again, this time leaning closer to get a better smell at the smoke.

The brows on his face furrowed, before leaning in as well, before blowing the puff of smoke on your face. "Eug– Yuck!" I blurted out, trying to fan awag the smoke.

"It smells bitter." I coughed out, looking at the dark haired stranger in front of me. A small grin on his face. "I know."

My mouth fell silent for a moment, thoughts clouding in my head. My body was moving faster than I could think, and before I knew it, my mouth slipped again. "Does it taste bitter too?"

The boy laughed, before inhaling the cigarette once more. "Do you wanna try?" He gestured for me to come closer.

I inched towards him, the cigarette in his hands placed in front of me. "Well? Go ahead?" He replied, placing his other hand on the rails for stability.

His expression remained unreadable, but even a child could see how much he enjoyed this.

And damn it, maybe you did too.

Before your lips could touch the tip of the cigarette, the door swung open, revealing your friend. Her hands occupied with a bottle of water, "Sorry it took so long, I had to run to the nearest store down the block." Giving me the bottle of water, "Seemed like everything in here was only 100% alcohol."

Her eyes watched you open the bottle cap, drinking from it slowly. Before panning her eyes to the figure beside you. "Oh, uhm.. was I interrupting something?" Her tone laced with sarcasm.

Rolling your eyes, as you capped off the bottle. "We were just talking." You shrugged, leaning against the balcony railings. Your friend eyed you carefully, her mouth about to open to say something before deciding not to.

Turning around as she mumbled something out the door, "Well, if you need anything, I'll be at the movie room." And with that, you saw your friend disappear into the crowd. It was only the two of you alone now.

"Your friend..?" He asked, his hands now empty, sitting carefully on the cold metal rails. You could only hum in agreement, as you watched his hands trace around the pattern of the rails. "Its gone."

He looked at you for a moment, before bringing his attention back at the view. "I was done." He replied, which made you turn your head back to the view as well.

"...I really wanted to try it." You replied, almost as if pouting to yourself. He looked at you, his expression remained emotionless, "I don't think that'd be wise." He replied, "It damages your lungs, you know that right?"

in which you retorted back, "I know, but you still do it."

"its because I'm already damaged."

You were taken aback by his response, it was so straightforward. And edgy.

"Yeesh.. you sound so emo right now.."

"..Shut up." You felt him shift his body, sneaking a glance you could see a light shade of pink on his ears.

A/N: I REALLY WANTED TO DO MORE FOR THIS CHAT, BUT I FELT LIKE I DRAGGED THIS OUT FOR TOO LONG AND I FEEL BAD FOR THE ANON CAUSE IT REALLY WASNT MY INTENTION 😞😭 anyways I did finish this while sleep deprive, im sorry if there are any errors or spelling mistakes. 💔💔

[xeas]

I SLITHERED HERE FROM EDEN (JUST TO SIT OUTSIDE YOUR DOOR)

🍍 IN WHICH: mr. inference cant seem to give himself a break. eli wants to help.

🥥 NOTE FROM XEA!: there's like, not a single surveyor icon on pinterest. idk if its because i searched the wrong stuff up or smth but i found an icon for every eli skin BUT surveyor . also no cop x criminal...that's tuff asf to write sorry,,,,,,i also have a tough time writing for men so i took this as a challenge ;;;;; sorry if it seems a little rushed or not as good as previous works

🫧CONTENT WARNINGS: not proofread; inference smokes a pipe, surveyor smokes the same one, surveyor is a flirt, relationship is up to the reader but its intended to be on the romantic spectrum, surveyor goes by eli, Mr. inference goes by naib, these two dudes kiss btw

There is something lonesome about Mr. Inference.

He spends most of his days (and nights) cooped up in his office organizing paperwork, writing reports, and putting two and two together.

And yet, some people just manage to get through locked doors (both physical and mental) to get on the detective's last nerves.

He considers himself a common man with common thoughts. No plaque or statue will be dedicated to his name, that will sooner be forgotten than remembered.

The detective cups the bowl of his pipe, exhaling a stream of smoke as he looks up at the drab ceiling of his office. Steel blue eyes stare up at the ceiling lost in thought, his classic coat hanging off of the leather chair he sat in.

The doorknob rattles. What?

Half of a moment passes. The door hastily creaks open and the detective doesn't even need to look to see who it is, the sound of black shoes clicking against the wood already making his head ache.

A figure with a mop of brown hair against porcelain skin sits on his desk. He watches, he is always watching. Naib continues to write and write and write with no end in sight.

"I believe it's past working hours, dear detective."

"Work picks up around this time."

"You're neglecting yourself, Naib."

The assault of ink to paper is halted. Naib suddenly feels the weight of exhaustion presses itself upon him.

"What do you need now." His voice is like a tangy whiskey against ice.

The surveyor hums, hands splayed on the mahogany of the desk. "Nothing, as of now. But a close friend of ours wanted me to check on you."

It doesn't take a genius to know who.

Naib puts his lips to the stem of his pipe and inhales, pulling away. He exhales away from Eli, offering the pipe to him. He takes his offer and repeats the same motion Naib does. Smoke hits the side of the detective's face.

"I know you won't talk about it Naib. Even it might kill you," Eli started, exhaling leftover smoke.

"But you have people you can talk to." The detective's brows furrowed.

"I know."

"Okay."

The two of them sat in pregnant silence. Eli observed what he saw. A man drowning himself in paperwork. His hair was messy, his overcoat draped over his chair, white collared shirt with 2 buttons open, you could see his rich olive skin-

Let's look at something else.

"I got you something." Eli interrupts his own thoughts. Naib looked over at him.

"I'm not going to get drunk with you." Naib cuts in.

"You're no fun," Eli pouts, setting the 'surprise' bottle of bourbon on the desk.

Naib just rolls his eyes, smoking the pipe again.

This time, Eli can't resist.

Almost as soon as he exhales the smoke Eli leans over the desk, planting a kiss on Naibs chapped lips. The detective's perpetually tired eyes widen a fraction, a hand suddenly gripping the desk.

As Eli pulls away he feels the detective grip a wrist of his. He watches him wet his lips.

"Stay for a while?"

"Of course."

୨🐙୧ ‧ 𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝘼𝙉 𝘼𝙈𝘼𝙕𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝘿𝘼𝙔! ⋆ ˚｡

🌺 𝙓𝙊𝙓𝙊,

XEA!

[kny-agere]

Hiiii, I'm a fellow kny agere writer and I love your content and wanna make a request. You can pick which is easier. Caregiver Akaza with a baby regressor that just wants to be held 24/7 or a Caregiver Shinobu with a baby regressor who tries to help her with helping patients

Firstly ty for the compliment and I love seeing other kny agere writers!! I’m not super active in the community bc this is a side acc but I do spy on people from time to time 🙈 I went with the first prompt ^^ It’s a little short but idk the conclusion felt good!!

★彡☆彡★彡

Being a demon meant Akaza did not grow tired physically. He could fight or sprint or do as he pleased without need for rest. Most of the time he enjoyed this fact, though much to his displeasure you had learned to take advantage of this fact.

While Akaza technically never grew tired of holding you it could be troublesome to always have someone in his arms. He could not practice sparring or eat or do much besides entertain you.

Though you were very easy to entertain. As long as Akaza held you, you were happy to sit quietly in his arms. He could on occasion set you down as well, as long as he stayed nearby to promise his presence. But ultimately when Akaza was caring for you he did not have much freedom.

Currently that was an issue for the man. He was hungry, starving almost, but could not leave you alone. He had tried several times to set you down but each time you began to whine and move forward to grab his small vest.

Now Akaza’s strategy switched to getting you asleep. Then he would have a few hours of his own. The demon wrapped a soft and fuzzy blanket around your shoulders and tempted a pacifier into your mouth. It created a rather cute picture. Once you were set he began to rock you softly. Sometimes Akaza could be slightly too rough, forgetting just how strong he was. He focused on how fast he walked and how much he bounced you to make sure the effect was calming rather than something that would excite you.

With the man’s strong arms around you it was easy to be lured into sleep. You could rest your head on his shoulder and his fingers would rub your back softly. There was no other situation that could be so comfortable.

Though when he tried to put you down you immediately shot back to full consciousness. Akaza was only a step or two away but the distance was unbearable. It didn’t take long for you to start crying, reaching for him.

“Calm down I’m coming.” He darts back to your side and lifts you once more. “No more crying.” There’s the smallest drop of annoyance in his voice that doesn’t help your tears stop. You wiggle around in his hold unhappily.

“Hey, let’s relax a little ok?” Akaza’s tone softens and he goes back to bouncing you. It takes a few minutes but eventually you’re convinced to stop crying. A few minutes longer and you’re back to letting your eyes flutter shut. Before you’re fully asleep you manage a few words. “No go down.” You patted his cheek to emphasize.

Akaza had to stifle a smile, instead nodding very seriously. “I won’t put you down this time.” He resigned himself to spending the next hour or two holding you, the rest of his activities would wait for later. Though he didn’t find himself caring about that too much.

[nateezfics]

Oh Nattt, I have Hongjoong thoughts for youuu~ (I was inspired by the aventus creed post & an old prompt about having a scent kink).

So, picture it: a Christmas vacation with Hongjoong in any country you choose, and you're in the finest luxury suite they have, because it's only the best quality for his love. You're touring the local hot spots and you're so so busy exploring the sights, and Hongjoong is ready to do all you'd like, but he just can't seem to get you alone. Anything you do involves other people. Touring the sites? It's with a guide and a group. Heading out for a drive? It's with a chauffeur. Going to dinner? It has to be at the fancy restaurant hotel instead of room service. And he's getting a little impatient. He doesn't mind those things, but he just wants some alone time with his baby. And when you're coming back from dinner, he starts to tell you how he feels, but before he can, a man passes you by.

As he passes, you catch a whiff of his cologne. "Excuse me, but your cologne smells amazing." The man smiles, giving you a quick once over before thanking you and continuing on his way. When you turn back, you don't realize that was Hongjoong's last straw. As you take the elevator back to your room, you notice he is unusually quiet. He doesn't say anything as you walk into the room until the door is closed. Grabbing you by the waist, he gently lays you back on the bed, before hovering over you and trapping you with his arms. You're suddenly surrounded by him; his presence, his body, his scent. He floods your senses. He trails his hand slowly over the skin of your throat as he speaks. "Sweetheart, I love that you're enjoying our trip so much. But don't you think I deserve some of your time? Hm? We haven't been alone since we got here, and I'm honestly kind of upset with you."

You're barely paying attention, since all you can focus on is the way he smells. The scent of his cologne is making your brain short circuit; you're reminded of past nights spent in his arms, and you can feel yourself slipping into the heated memories and the absolute need that they bring with them. Hongjoong noticed your eyes glazing over, and he smirked before tapping your cheek. "I can see it won't be too hard to make you forget all about that other guy." Your brows furrow in confusion as you ask him who he means, and he laughs. "Like I said, easy. Spread your legs for me, love."

(the end☺️)

oh bby😭 i apologize for the delayed response;; i’ve been reading this over and over again, and it’s just so hot i have a hard time coming up with words to respond with 🥴

the sprinkle of possessive hongjoong. oh god. that gets me. every damn time. “i can see it won’t be too hard to make you forget all about that other guy” *screams, kicks feet* like sir you’re the only guy i’m thinking about wdym 🥴 the way hong would know he’s the only one who’s got your attention, but would remind you anyways. “spread your legs for me, love” they were already wide open!!!!

i’d like to imagine he’d take you to paris. idk, i just do. he’d love the sight seeing with you,, but like you said, he’d get tired of the lack of alone time with you. he’d be so pouty about it too, and the guy being flirty with you while asking about your scent would be the straw the broke the camel’s back. absolutely would ravish you once he gets you alone.

imagine him doing sensory play, knowing how much you love his scent. blindfolding you, ultimately heightening your other senses by taking away your sight. the way your sense of smell would be even stronger, and you’d be even more sensitive to his scent, his touch, and the sound of his voice.

this is so hot i’m literally malfunctioning thinking about this 🙃🙃

[duuhrayliegh]

hey babes can i request more seb x singer!reader? thank youuuu :)

slowing down

Neither of you says anything for a few minutes, basking in the uninterrupted silence. In the recesses of your shared apartment, you can hear the faint click of the air conditioning. Raindrops hit the bay windows in your living room and you just know that the sunrise is going to be beautiful. or in which you can't sleep

pairing: seb stan x singer!reader (that’s right, I'M FUCKING BACK FOR MORE BABY)

warnings: it's kind of angsty? idk i didn't mean for it to be but i guess here we are?

a/n: of course you can love! i'm in the world's worst slump but i refuse to let this stop me. i can honestly tell you that this will probably be really shitty but nevertheless here we are :/

pls like and reblog if you enjoy my work. which you can check out more of on my masterlist.

You're quick to dim the glow of your phone, the illumination too much for your dry eyes. You're halfway through your North American tour and have finally reached the break in your schedule. Three whole days that you're able to fully relax and recharge after two months.

Two excruciating months that you spent away from home, sleeping in hotel bed after hotel bed, chasing peace and quiet on airplanes, private cars, and green rooms.

Two long months without Seb.

It wasn't so bad at first. I mean let's be real, you both have busy lives. He's a leading Hollywood actor who has film execs fighting tooth and nail to cast him in their upcoming projects. And you're touring your second album, playing in venues both large and small, never stopping for longer than five minutes.

Until now. When you were first planning out your tour schedule with your management company, you insisted that there be a break halfway through the run. You wouldn't label yourself as a homebody, but you're something close to it.

You knew yourself well enough to predict when you could burn out. Much to the dismay of your team, you refused to even consider a tour unless it had the required time off built in.

You've watched too many of your friends have to cancel shows to recuperate, you wouldn't do that to your fans. People have real lives outside of concerts--it's not always sunshine and rainbows, but rescheduling shows was the last thing you were willing to do. Compromise wasn't an option for this decision, and thankfully they bent to your demands rather quickly.

What you didn't account for was how wired you'd be.

You made sure to plan your time off for after your New York shows. That way you would already be where Sebastian was and you could spend the break with the man you love.

You'd think your body would enjoy the break. Instead, it doesn't seem to realize it's on a break. So here you lay, doom-scrolling on your phone with the brightness turned so low you might as well not even be on it.

You closed and opened the same three apps for the past thirty minutes. A lump is beginning to form in the back of your throat and your eyes are starting to burn. You could feel your breaths coming in faster intervals, fighting against the exhaustion in your bones. The words on your phone screen start turning into just random letters, then blurring altogether, becoming one big glowing blob in your hand that your mind can't seem to fathom.

"Birdie?" Sebastian's baritone startles you back to reality. You quickly flip the screen into the duvet, stifling the dim object from his sleepy view.

His hand finds yours, running his fingers over your tense knuckles that grip the phone steady. He pries the device from your grip and places it face down on his bedside table.

"What's wrong, bird?" By this point, he's preparing for whatever you throw at him. Sebastian's front molds to your back, pulling you into his warm skin.

"Do you ever feel so exhausted that you reach the point that you're not tired anymore?" Your voice is soft, not wanting to disturb the peace and quiet any more than you already have. Sebastian's fingers are still tracing meaningless shapes on your knuckles as he hums against your bare shoulder.

Neither of you says anything for a few minutes, basking in the uninterrupted silence. In the recesses of your shared apartment, you can hear the faint click of the air conditioning. Raindrops hit the bay windows in your living room and you just know that the sunrise is going to be beautiful.

"Like, you spend so long waiting for something and then once you get it, you're disappointed?" You breathe the words into the void before you can stop yourself. It's only when you realize what you've said do you rush to correct yourself. "Not that I'm disappointed. That's not what I meant."

Sebastian hums in acknowledgment. Beneath the blankets, he tangles his legs with yours, wrapping you in the comfort you've been without for the past two months.

“It's just that my mind won't stop running. Like, I've done the damn thing. I planned the time off so that this wouldn't happen." Your breathing quickens again but slows as soon as Sebastian nudges your feet with his. Tears pool along your lash line, threatening to spill over out of frustration? exhaustion? pure anger? You aren't able to fully discern what you're feeling.

"I'm just so. damn. tired, Bastian." Your voice lilts into a whine at the end, but you both know it's to mask the chink in your armor. You shuffle to plant your face in his chest, attempting to shield yourself from the world outside.

Something you've learned about yourself is that you're so quick to give. The first to volunteer yourself. Always think of everyone else before yourself. It's a quality that people envy.

What they don't know is the toll it takes on the giver. The volunteer. The thinker. The envied. They don't know that you lay awake at night, exhausted beyond all reason with your mind racing when you try to put yourself first for a change.

"I don't know how to make it stop." He wraps you in his arms, burying both hands in your hair at the base of your neck. "I don't know how to make my mind quiet."

Frustration oozes from your every fiber and it makes you burrow deeper into Sebastian's hold. You squeeze your eyes shut, the action causing a throb to form in between your brows. You begin to match Sebastian's breathing, allowing your chests to rise and fall in sync. You rest your forehead on his collarbone and listen to the even beating of his heart.

No more words are exchanged. No more admissions. No more almost insults. No more dimly lit phone screens.

Just the rain. And the whir of the AC. And the matched breaths.

All the worries and troubles are pushed aside to be another day's problem.

For now, you'll rest.

--

please like and reblog if you enjoy my work. for requests.

for more of my work.

[hayatoseyepatch]

SAM! CONGRATULATIONS ON THE 500!!

About me: pronouns are she/her. Im An ambivert? I have super bad social anxiety. except around a very few select people. I'm both simultaneously sleep deprived and over caffeinated. I love learning about law. I'm sometimes a sarcastic asshole and most of the time I don't intend to be so sarcastic it just comes out.

Fandoms- (idk if you consider us moots yet👉👈) so if so then please can I ask for windbreaker and demon slayer. If not! Then just windbreaker

Type: honestly Irl men I don't have a type,😂 fictional men. I tend to love the morally grey, big men, the scruffy tired men. Old men. Dilfs.🤭🫣...personally prefer to be paired with male

Favorites: windbreaker: Endo, umemiya, hiragi, kanji. Demon slayer: tengen(his wives) gyomei, sanemi, rengoku.

Icks: none!

Reye (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ) ♡ You’re literally so sweet thank you for your congratulations!! And ofc we’re moots don’t be silly love! And since you requested two here you go ♡

Okay so I wanna say that your second one contains smut, if that’s too much or not something you want to read the last thing I wanna do is make you uncomfortable. Please take this as an invitation to dm or shoot me another ask requesting a new one and I’d be more than happy to give that to you bb (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ Now lets get on with it!!

⤜♡→ I mean come on this is my blog, someone was getting him. This man is the epitome of DEVOTION. He would worship the ground you walked on. You have social anxiety? Motormouth Maybelle over here will do all the talking. You want coffee from your favorite coffee shop across town? Looks like he's making a trip. This man is chronically mischaracterized as a violent playboy and I won't stand for it!

⤜♡→ When Endo is in love it consumes him. You are on his thoughts always. He sees a cute little trinket of you favorite animal? He's picking it up just to see you smile. He would do anything for you. When Endo falls in love he falls in love HARD.

⤜♡→ He's such a yearner. He craves your presence constantly and misses your touch when it isn't available to him. I feel like after meeting Sakura he beings to develop more emotional intelligence. Now aware of the difference between love and obsession. He'll give you space if you need it, but will always be a phone call away.

⤜♡→ He looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky for him, and if you asked he would find a way to bring you the moon if that was what you wanted. He adores you and nothing in this life or the net could stop hi from loving you with every fiber of his being.

Endo smiled to himself, he loved watching you work, whether it was the way you sat at your desk cute tongue poking out and a little furrow in your brow when you were in a complete form of concentration or the way he could unabashedly stare at your side profile uninterrupted. But nothing compared to watching you like this, there was a different air than when you were stressed from working. Your eyes were focused on the screen before you. He could watch you for hours, just content to watch you, your beauty incomparable in his eyes. He loved the calm that rested over your expression, allowing him to take in every one of your features before you noticed him, completely lost in your own little world.

His favorite moments were ones like these, your beautiful voice that he wasn’t often graced with singing out due to the presumption that you were alone. He finally approaches, his eyes scanning your relaxed form. eyes softening and heart swelling. He opts to flicker the light in the room to gain your attention, rather than risking sneaking up from behind and catching your right hook, knowing better than to make that mistake more than once. Snorting as you jump a bit. “Hi baby~ Sorry I’m late traffic was fucking ridiculous, but I brought tea as a peace offering.” He smiles holding up the cup of coffee. Endo knew just how you liked your order, never once getting it wrong.

He took a seat next to you, handing you the coffee only to watch you sit it down on the table. He offers a hand, palm offered for you to take. “You’ve been cooped up in here all day, why don’t you take a break, hm?” He smiled, aiding you in crawling into his lap when you take his hand, pressing kisses to your collarbone after you had done so, arms securing themselves around your waist and humming in contentment as your familiar scent wafts into his senses. He always found home in your arms and he never wanted to be anywhere else.

⤜♡→ OOO GIRL I HEARD DILFS. You’ve come to the right place. I know we’ve talked about him super briefly before but when you said big morally grey dilfs I HAD to pull out this absolute DADDY. This former warlord of the sea is an absolute MENACE.

⤜♡→ Crocodile has met his match when it comes to you, the only one brave enough to throw sarcasm his way, it's a battle of wits. One in which there is no clear victor. Though those around you are more concerned with the fact that you are still breathing after talking to him like that.

⤜♡→ With that being said, Crocodile has a clear soft spot for you. No one who values their life brings it up though. They all remember what happened to the last poor soul who did.

⤜♡→ This man never believed in love, thought it foolish and childish. he saw no gain from something as silly as affection. He saw it as a clear weakness. However one morning as the sun's rays slipped through his windows, casting a euphoric glow over your still bare form from the night before, did he realize that he was capable of such feelings. Because even he couldn't deny thats exactly what was swarming in his chest as he leans down to press a kiss on your sleeping face.

⤜♡→ He tries to cut things off then and there, but with the days that follow he realizes he can't go on without you. Finding you and pressing a desperate kiss to your lips. For once uncaring if anyone saw, he needed you by his side. And anyone who dared to try him wouldn't live to tell the tale.

(Okay here's the smut, some warnings before you take a look: size difference, praise, dcryphilla, implied being caught, mentions of violence)

Crocodile grinned maliciously, if there was one thing he loved more than anything it was watching tears cascade down your cheeks. You always looked so beautiful when crying. But not from sadness, no, you see Crocodile would give a slow painful arduous death to anyone who dared even look at you the wrong way. Not his prized gem, his greatest treasure, far more valuable to him than the One Piece itself. No, never those kinds of tears. He instead loved the tears that streamed down your cheeks as you lost yourself on his cock. Whether it was you absolutely lost in pleasure, his name the only word on your lips, or as you were now: struggling to take the sheer size of his girth. Leaning forward he let a large hand come to your face, his thumb swiping some of the tears that had slipped past your lashes. “Here, doll, I’ll be generous.” He brings the same thumb between your legs using your own tears as lube to guide the rubbing of his thumb on your clit. Smirking at the shudder that wracks your form from the contact.

“Come on sweetness, you’re only halfway there and you're fussing this much already? You’d think after all the times you’ve taken my cock this wouldn’t be so hard on you.” He tsks, feigning sympathy, but you both know he is anything but sympathetic. Especially not when he lays a large hand on your shoulder. “And since I’m feeling so generous why don’t you let me help you, hm?” Using his hand as leverage, he forces your body to take the rest of him, basking in the loud drawn-out moan you let out as he bottoms out. “Atta girl.” He purrs.” See I knew you could do it.” He gives you a moment to adjust to his size, grinning once more as you begin to move. Right as you begin to set a steady pace, his head thrown back in the feeling of you, a shrill ring sounds from the communicator device on his desk. Your eyes blow wide as his hand is drawn to it. Placing a finger on his lips as he levels you with a mischievous look. “You gotta be quiet, kitten, I’d hate to have to stop fucking you to kill whoever’s on the other line for hearing the sounds that are meant for my ears only.” And as he answers the device you could only hope who was on the other end knew how to hold their own, because with the way his hand was guiding your hips you knew being silent was out of the question.