#it's so sad bc i loved this room sm

[ningningkittie]

.

[lucygraysboy]

“and i missed bein’ your cowboy prince. it feels like coming home.” it amazes him how the universe works, almost as if someone has been pulling on invisible strings this whole time to bring them back together. “right? when i saw you last night, up on that stage, i went back in time and felt as if i was watching one of those shows that you used to put on just for me and our teddy bears. and catchin’ up after… when i’m holdin’ you like this, it’s like i’ve never left.” there’s a long road ahead of them, but he’ll do his best to never let her down again. “thank you.” for not undermining his masculinity just because he’s shown his emotions and shed some tears, for helping him accept the fact that true strength goes hand in hand with vulnerability. 

“who do you take me for? i ain’t no snitch,” billy huffs in response, but it’s quickly followed by a laugh. he would have to be completely out of his mind to tell mrs. baird that they’d been drinking and almost had sex, but she’s always had a way of seeing right through him — that’s what scares him. “what if she hears hesitation in my voice? you know how she is. remember when we were little? it felt like she could read my mind, knew when i was lyin’ or hidin’ somethin’. that one time i skipped school with jesse? she knew the second she looked at me.” as irrational as it seems, billy’s almost completely certain that mama bird already knows what exactly happened to them last night. still, he’ll try to sound convincing. besides, it’s not an outright lie, right? after all, he and lucy gray did talk a lot. “that sounds reasonable, yeah, okay… oh, thanks.” laughing at how quickly she unlocks the phone, he easily finds her mama’s number in her recents but hesitates for a second. the pad of his thumb hovering over the screen. 

“i understand that. it’s a very valid feeling, but you need to know that i’ve never loved anyone else. my heart’s always been yours. only yours. you’re my world, lucy gray,” he murmurs into the space between them, leaning in to bump their noses when she rolls over to face him. it’s his greatest regret in life, trying to move on and forget her. if he could turn back time, he would just fight for her instead. “the kiss that we shared last night,” he knows that they were both under the influence of alcohol and very strong emotions, but it doesn’t matter, “it meant more to me than… whatever happened in the past.” he knows that overcoming these feelings of betrayal, even if they might seem ridiculous, won’t be easy but he’s determined to assist her in any way possible. “alright, let’s leave it as it is. doesn’t bother me either.” maybe they’ll play bon jovi. “thank you. and i love yours. you looked beautiful even with shorter hair, of course, but i’m happy to have my rapunzel back,” he says softly, kissing her forehead as her fingers slip into his mane. his eyes close briefly as he basks in the pleasant sensations, warmth spreading throughout his entire body. he missed her so much and this feeling of pure love and comfort that comes with her touch.

"i missed bein' your rainbow princess." saying sadly, but a smile softly curling her lips upwards as her eyes open again, watching his fingers brush against her stuffed spirit's mane. "i feel that way, too. like everything just goes back to normal. like not a day has went by." it felt like they were still just very much those children who never left each other's sight, every time they met again. "of course. but now you know, you always can." or rather, learning he can. which is something she didn't think he'd ever come around to doing so maybe this is a good sign. that's not something she'd ever judge him for, she wants him to know this is a trait she very much admires in a person. when they can be emotional and vulnerable.

"exactly. don't you dare utter a word of us drinkin' or whatever else psychotic things we were doin'. she'll personally come down here and grab us by our necks." her mama was a sweet woman and kind to everybody, but she also had a temper when it came to two things. intolerance of bullshit and her child getting up to things that could be a risk to her health or well being. her mama always wanted one more child, or even two more. but when lucy gray ended up being her only one, because she couldn't have them with her real dad who she's never met and sharing children with her stepdad was not an option, it made her into an even more extra mama bear over her only nestling. her only bear cub. alcohol was a sensitive subject to her mother as well, so she'd definitely be having a melt down over her becoming an alcoholic just because she had one drink last night. "just say that, basically what you said. after the show, we had dinner, patched things up and spent the whole night talkin' that i forgot to send her a goodnight message because it got too late." she nods, a tiny smile of amusement trying to pull at the corners of her mouth.

"i just unlock it with face recognition or whatever it is." hand folds over his holding her phone to redirect it closer to her face, holding it up and the screen quickly comes available for him. "that's what i was goin' to say... because i love you so much," shyly speaking the words, "so i don't like it." living inside her head where she knows he's been with other people. makes her angry because why did he have to go off and do that shortly after he left home the first time? if she was really his, he wouldn't made some other girl his. "i like the music videos playin', it doesn't bug me. but you can always change it if you want to. and like i always used to say when i wanted to nap extra longer... you can keep talkin' but don't be mad at me if i fall asleep." she curls back up on her side, this time facing him at least with spirit under her arm. there's a pause, a minute that drifts by, before doe eyes open again and peer up at him. "i do love your curls, though. seein' them again." then closes her eyes again, somehow managing not to reach up and experimentally touch. except, another second passes and hand blindly reaches up to rake her fingers through his hair cause the impulse is too strong. not even realizing she already told him this last night and her touchy hands must be apart of her sober counterpart, after all. or drunk lucy gray lives on.

[ichigosoju]

🍡

[bluem1lls]

HIII REQUESTING A SE-MI FIC AGAINN!! i loved ur last fic sm so so can you do if reader and se-mi were playing mingle and then like readers panicking and is frozen but se-mi grabs them at the last second and when they both survive and reader maybe gives her a kiss on the cheeekk?? :3

✧₊⁺ i'll do it again

se-mi x fem!reader

content: just a short fluff, reader thinks she's about to die, until oh- a pretty girl is saving her?

authors note: thank you for the request and thank u sm for ur love! its short bc during the week i try to write shorter stuff and leave all the long stuff for the weekend but i hope u still like it!

✧₊⁺ you've been trying to stay alive with gi-hun's group. you love them.

✧₊⁺ plus you've found yourself two best friends. jun-hee it's the cutest girl and dae-ho it's the sweetest boy.

✧₊⁺ so when the third game comes, you stay close to all of them. you're confident everyone will live. at least from your group.

until the last round.

✧₊⁺ as you hear the number '2' from the speakers, you turn to look at jun-hee, as she's being dragged by her ex. she screams at you but you tell her to go, you'll be fine. you think?

✧₊⁺ you turn to dae-ho, he's already with gi-hun.

fuck.

was this really your last round?

✧₊⁺ i mean, you could go and look for another person who's alone. you know you could.

but somehow you can't. you're frozen in place.

✧₊⁺ as the seconds pass, tears start filling your eyes.

oh man, you had a life outside this stupid game. why the fuck did you agree to come here?

last seconds.

✧₊⁺ you thought, until someone grabbed your hand and pushed you into a room, closing the door behind her.

✧₊⁺ what the fuck? you're blinking, trying to come out of the shock.

✧₊⁺ "why were you standing there? have a death wish or something?" this girl leans against the door, breathless.

✧₊⁺ you were okay?

what the fuck??

she saved you??

"i-um..t-thank you"

she hummed, her intense gaze fixated on you.

✧₊⁺ huh. you were really pretty.

✧₊⁺ you nervously start laughing.

"i-i don't have a death wish i don't even know why i stood there like an id-"

"it was a joke" she smirked. "its okay, you don't own me an explanation"

✧₊⁺ you sighed as the doors unlocked. sad?? you actually wanted to know more about her...

✧₊⁺ as the game came to the last few rounds, the group managed to survive. you hugged dae-ho and jun-hee while walking to the common room. they kept saying sorry to you but you promised them you were okay.

i mean, a pretty girl saved you, you were definitely okay!

✧₊⁺ your eyes scanned the place looking for her. the way she kept playing with her lip piercing was repeating in your brain.

✧₊⁺ there she was! sorrounded by three boys. she was sitting with her face on her hands.

✧₊⁺ don't go don't go don't go-

"can i talk to you?" i said, looking at her.

her eyes found yours as she smirked.

the guys looking up and down at you. were you talking to their friend? se-mi? like..the bitchy introvert? she wasn't even nice to them.. and they were her friends.

"hm?" she said, tilting her head.

"i wanted to thank you for saving me... i know it was probably to save your own life but.. you know, you could've picked everyone and yet u grabbed me.. so thank you" i walked to her slowly, leaning down to where she was sitting, leaving a soft kiss on her cheek.

✧₊⁺ did a pretty girl just gave her a kiss on the cheek??

✧₊⁺ she's all flustered.. poor baby. you thought she was a fuckgirl? yeah no. here she is, blushy like a horny teenager falling for a pretty girl.

✧₊⁺ "y-yeah.. you're welcome" she replies, trying to play it cool. you turn around and she CANNOT erase that stupid smile out of her face.

✧₊⁺ when you're far enough to not hear them, thanos, nam gyu and min su laugh, making her entire face go even more red.

✧₊⁺ "you guys are fucking dumb" she mumbles, annoyed as they kept teasing her. "at least a girl kissed me, unlike to you virgins" she rolls her eyes.

✧₊⁺ oh yeah, that won't be the last time you're gonna be hearing from her.

you can't just give her a kiss on the cheek and go away.

because now, she wants to feel more of your soft lips.

[pepperyduck]

growing old with kento nanami, pt. 2

word count: 3.5k

warnings: having kids, raising kids, naming kids after lost loved ones, descriptions of growing old, like actually growing old and having grandchildren, descriptions of body changes after birth, dad nanami, no angst in this one just living a happy life with husband nanami :3 (18+ mdni!)

notes: i love u all sm, i am giving this man the ending he deserves. now get ready bc i just went through a terrible breakup and must project it in my writing. much love!!!

part 1 | masterlist

nanami watched you with loving eyes as you laid in your hospital bed, exhausted and sleeping so peacefully after the delivery of your baby. your hair stuck to your face in messy patterns from all the sweat, your chest rose and fell on the perfect, comfortable beat. this time, he was sitting in the chair next to your bed, a book open and ready to be read, but kento’s eyes refused to skim the pages – you looked so beautiful. the room was quiet, only the soft buzzing of an air conditioner and beeping from one of the monitors stuck to you would infiltrate the silence. kento paid close mind whenever you began to stir, lightly fluttering your eyes open to look at him, oh so tired.

“good morning, beautiful,” kento cooed, closing his book to rest it on his thigh. he reached out his hand to lay it atop yours, a soft smile grazing his lips when he looked at you.

“hi,” you groaned, slightly rolling over and wincing when the sharp pain began to shoot through your body. kento’s brows furrowed whenever he saw your discomfort.

“how are you feeling?” he asked.

“tired…it hurts,” you muttered, closing your eyes again. kento’s thumb lightly grazed over the back of your hand, tracing the veins.

kento made sure the nurses that came to check on you administered some pain medicine, and after a while, you began to not be in as much torment as before. you were told you could go home in a day or two, after the pain subsides and the baby is evaluated to be in good health.

kento pushed you down the hallway in a wheelchair towards the nursery, and politely asked to see your baby. you cried so many tears of joy the moment your baby boy was settled in your arms, swaddled in a hospital blanket and sleeping gently. he was so beautiful, a spitting image of his father from the word go. even though he was tiny, and his features weren’t so defined, you could already see the resemblance.

“have you decided on a name yet?” the nurse sweetly asked, clipboard in hand with all your information. you and kento swapped looks for a moment, obviously unprepared for the question. for a minute, you thought in your mind about all the names you discussed, finally landing on one that would be thoughtful and fitting.

“what about ‘yū’ kento?” you suggested, looking up at your husband for his approval.

the gesture of naming his son after his passed best friend made kento a little sad, but he knew haibara would be proud and so happy, so he nodded his head in agreement.

“yes, yū. that’s perfect.”

taking care of such a tiny human came so naturally to kento. he was easily able to balance work on top of making sure the baby was okay. for the first few months, it seemed as if yū would always cry when he was with you, until kento finally would pick him up and settle the baby in his arms. kento had taken an adequate amount of time off from work, working only 3-4 days a week, he made sure you had enough time to rest in between taking care of the baby for days at a time.

after a while, yū began to calm down, reverting into a happy, smiley, giggly baby. you felt more comfortable taking care of him on your own without kento there. so, in return, kento began working even more, picking up his normal 40-hour work week. since you had moved cities, you hadn’t found a stable job yet, but that was okay. because kento wanted to take care of you. he wanted to be the one to take care of his family.

so, you let him. he provided as much as possible for you and your child, all the while ensuring he wasn’t overworking himself in the process. he wanted to live a happy life, after all, he was never going to revert back to the ways of his 24-year-old self; working impossible hours and remaining exhausted 24/7.

since yū had began to grow older, hitting the year-old mark in the blink of an eye, you came to realize that you only took care of him. not that you minded, of course, you loved your baby. but you were less active, and it showed on your body. more and more, you looked in the mirror to find the pregnancy weight still latched on to you, the body you once had just didn’t seem to be there. you knew your husband should be the one to talk about insecurities, sure, but with all the surgeries he went through, and all he did to improve his health; you thought he looked just as ravishing as the day you met him. he did look just as handsome, even with the scars covering half of his body. he was simply a beautiful man.

and you began to feel undeserving. ugly. lesser than the person you were married to. and for what? because of some baby weight? it was natural. so why did you feel so increasingly terrible about yourself as time went on? you worked out, you stayed as healthy as possible; but it was like nothing was going to let you get back to how you looked before the baby.

you were looking in the mirror in your bathroom, a huge one, just like you dreamed of. but the large size of the mirror only gave you more sight into your own reflection. a reflection that filled you with disgust. you frowned at the weird shape and size of your tummy, or at least the shape you thought was weird, and the way your face seemed chubbier, and your thighs had grown in size.

“hey, honey,” kento greeted you, walking around the frame of the bathroom door. his sights were immediately infiltrated with the picture of his gorgeous wife, with her sleep shorts tugged down below her stomach, endearing stretchmarks littering the skin that once carried his beloved son.

you tugged your shorts up quickly and replied to him, “hi, kento.” with a quick turn on your heel and a step forward, you planted a light peck on his lips. he smiled down at you, eyes glittering with the very glimpse of such a beautiful woman.

“what are you doing?” he asked, snaking an arm around your waist to pull you close. you sort of slumped your body against him, resting a head on his shoulder, and you sighed.

“do you think i look…different now?” you couldn’t stop yourself from asking the question, blurting it out as you rested against your husband. he pulled you away and rested his hands on your waist to look you in the eyes.

“what do you mean, hm?” kento’s thumbs grazed up and down your soft skin.

you looked back into the mirror, frowning once more at the silhouette your body created. with a pitiful tone, you began to speak, “my body. ever since i had yū, it’s just been…ugly. i feel ugly.” you described yourself with one of the most hurtful words and caused kento’s eyebrows to furrow as he looked at you.

ugly? how dare his own wife speak about his wife that way. because, in his eyes, you were the most breathtaking individual on the planet. in the universe, actually. sure, he had noticed the changes of your body – the changes that came from you growing a human being inside of you, single-handedly giving him the best gift he’s ever received. if anything, he loved the changes of your body, somehow your skin became even softer to him, contrasting his rough hands perfectly.

“i’m sorry,” you apologized, noticing your husband’s glare once you looked back up at him. he shook his head.

“don’t apologize, i understand.” kento comforted you, bringing a sweet hand up to your cheek to pull you in for a soft kiss. once he pulled back, he ran a thumb over your cheek, “do you want to know what i think, sweetheart?”

brows furrowing, you looked up at him with a confused expression, “think about wh-,” he cut you off with another kiss to the lips. he skimmed his lips over different parts of your face, planting light pecks over all the skin.

“i think,” kento’s lips trailed down your neck slowly, then to each off your shoulders, beginning down one of your arms. “i have,” his kisses didn’t waver as he made his way down your arm, giving a firm kiss to the back of your hand as he held it, kneeling down. “the most,” he smiled up at you before focusing on your tummy, kissing the shirt that laid atop your soft skin, trailing all over your abdomen.

“beautiful wife in the world.”

you giggled at his gesture, the laugh soon faltering because kento’s stare on you was full of complete seriousness. the things that kento thought were always fact, never fiction, you should’ve known that. so yes, what he said was true. it would always be true in his eyes, too. always.

with all the intimacy conjured in the bathroom, that was the night you got pregnant with your second child, a daughter named mayu.

parenthood came with its own highs and lows as your children grew. your daughter loved her father til’ the earths end, always opting to stay under his arm whenever he was home. mayu had taken more of your looks this time, not quite the spitting image like yū was to your husband, but enough to tell that you were her mother. she was full of energy and happiness and took on a sassy personality from a young age. yū, however, was very emotional and laidback compared to his sister. it was quite funny how much their personalities showed, even when they were unable to talk. but as they began to grow up and adopt certain mannerisms, their personalities began to bloom even more.

as kento got older, he had gained just a tiny amount of weight, filling out his muscular form even more. his abs slowly faded with time, turning into a less-defined version of themselves. and your favorite part about kento growing older was his hair. once your children reached 3 and 5, kento had reached a good 35, turning 36 soon, little grey pieces began to pepper themselves into his hairline, shining brightly in between the blonde strands. he began to have small crow’s feet in the outsides of his eyes, and smile lines from the amount of smiling he did with you.

on yū’s first day of school, kento had to hold you as you sniffled back tears, watching your oldest boy walk through the front doors of the school. he held his arm around your shoulders and waved his son off, shushing you and saying he will only be gone until 3 p.m. little did you know, kento had to hold back his own tears, because in that moment he felt so accomplished as a father, even though that was only the beginning of yū’s journey.

not to worry, though, because on mayu’s first day – your husband cried like a baby seeing his daughter walk off into school, nervous for the first time in her life.

the first few years of your children’s school life were smooth sailing. yū and mayu alike made many friends and looked at school in a positive light. you and kento never got tired of their endless stories – about a game they played or a lesson they learned or a book they read. every little art project and 100 on a test decorated the fridge. kento made sure to teach them both about the importance of schooling and how to remain at the top of their class, along with balancing the increasing schoolwork the older they got.

it wasn’t until yū hit middle school that things began to go downhill.

neither you nor kento thought that your children would be able to see curses. only one of you was a sorcerer, and kento was the only one in his family that was able to be a sorcerer, too. but when kento took him to a bakery, yū saw the same creature as his father crawling around on the floor, eliciting an ear-shattering scream – kento felt doomed.

“what do you think we should do?” you questioned, leaning against the counter as your husband sat at the kitchen table, lips pursed beneath intertwined fingers pressed on the lower half of his face.

“i do not want him to be a sorcerer,” kento stated, a stern tone in his voice, “but he…he’s…i don’t know if we can stop it.” your husband sounded defeated at the statement.

he could only ask himself why this had to happen to him of all people; someone that had run away from jujutsu twice now. you and kento both decided to wait until your children were older to explain it all, and where all their uncles and aunts and family friends came from, but at the time, it all seemed inevitable but to give some sort of explanation.

so, of course, he called one of the people he trusted – and now respected – the most.

“nanami!” gojo squealed as soon as the front door was opened, revealing the still tall and lanky satoru. kento seemed to still be annoyed by his presence, yet inside he was thankful for his friend to show up on such short notice. gojo had been around your children some, obviously, but you and kento tried to keep your distance because of how dangerous it all was.

after giving satoru the rundown of the past days’ events, you sent mayu off to a friend’s house and sat yū in the living area with all the adults. until that point, he had no explanation as to what he saw in the bakery. but with ease, just as everything was with gojo, he gave yū the clarification needed to understand he had a special gift, and to use it wisely. kento made up his mind as to not scare your son by telling him about how he got all those scars, saving that for a later date. yū still didn’t understand everything entirely, but ended up having some sort of grasp on his abilities. that was all that was needed.

you and kento collectively decided it would be yū’s choice when he was old enough to decide to become a sorcerer, with the help of gojo, of course.

fortunately, or unfortunately, for mayu, she would end up not having the same abilities as her father. it was sort of a blessing, only having to worry about one kid being raised to fight the second they turned 14.

the years spent waiting for yū to become old enough to decide about jujutsu felt like a ticking time bomb for you and kento. many, many nights were spent in the kitchen, talking endlessly about your concerns but also the upsides to having your son learn under one of kento’s most trusted partners. but the both of you became more honest with your son about the reality of going into jujutsu, the pros and cons of becoming a sorcerer, and how it could both positively and negatively affect his life.

ultimately, though, kento was the most relieved he’d ever been when your son gave his answer about becoming a sorcerer, a few days away from the end of middle school.

“uh, no, dad. it sounds way too dangerous. i want to go to college.” yū’s words came off as that of a normal, moody teenager, but in the end made a weight lift off you and your husband’s shoulders.

they say time flies when you’re having fun, and that was the truest of statements when it came to raising your children with kento. yū’s high school years approached quickly, mayu’s seemingly approached even faster, it was all a rush of images that remained in your head. the sports teams, never missing a thursday night game to cheer on your son from the stands, as he led his soccer team to the regional levels. the first time yū brought a girl home, with you and kento seemingly even more nervous to meet the sweet young lady that attached herself to your son’s arm. prom was so much fun, seeing your husband knot the same printed tie around his son’s neck that he wore in his sorcerer days, before taking a thousand photos of yū and his girlfriend. your son had the most elated, idiotic smile on his face once he opened the door to find his girlfriend dressed to the nines in a stunning dress, the same smile on his face when he came home after a fun night with his friends. and of course, graduation topped it all off, yū standing at the top of his class just like his father. both you and kento had to stifle back tears watching him walk across the stage.

mayu’s high school days were a flash as well, a very fond memory looking back. she remained with the same snappy and sassy personality, just as when she was little. mayu remained close with her father, but began to talk to you as she got older, needing advice for any decision she made. it made you feel like a proud mother, someone she wasn’t embarrassed of because even through her mood swings and bad days, she always found refuge in you. mayu became the student council president by her second year, running every school event like a ship, making sure to always get extra t-shirts for you and kento because you would always show up. while yū was away at college, mayu became your focus as you let your son navigate his way through life.

kento thought he was going to have a heart attack the second his beloved daughter said she had a boyfriend she wanted the both of you to meet. the night that boy rolled up in his car, knocking on the door frantically, kento put on a stern and serious face as he was the one to open the door. mayu came running up behind kento, to no avail, as her boyfriend was already bowing and then shaking your husband’s hand. he politely introduced himself, practically shaking with how intimidated he was by your husband. but the night went on smoothly, you had dinner together and found out more about mayu’s boyfriend and his aspirations. at the end of the night, after he had left and mayu went to bed, kento said he was an, “alright young man,” which was the biggest compliment if you were going to date his daughter.

mayu’s graduation was the time for kento to sob again, seeing his daughter get so much recognition for all she did for the school, feeling like the proudest dad of two children. yū had driven into town, sitting next to you and kento in the stands, a bouquet of flowers for his sister. mayu moved into her dorm only a few weeks later, leaving you and kento in an empty house, riddled with the memories of raising two beautiful, accomplished, important and thriving children.

it all went by too fast.

after your birds had successfully left the nest, you and kento spent all your time together once again. the days would mix up as he began to work less and less to prepare for his retirement. time flew by, aging you and your husband both, the wrinkles becoming delicately pronounced each year, the grey hairs eventually taking over all the blonde in his head. you spent your time reading, baking, and most of all, traveling as soon as kento’s last day at work hit.

you flew all around the world, visiting the most gorgeous and diverse cities alike, emerging yourselves in all the different cultures, practices, and kento’s favorite part – the food. you visited malaysia with him again, just as you did on your honeymoon, the love you felt all those years ago still present within you both. you walked along the beaches and toured all the spots you favorited on your honeymoon again.

your life with kento nanami was beautiful.

you lay in bed with your husband at your side, his peaceful yet loud snores endearing as he sleeps so soundly. tomorrow, your 25th wedding anniversary will be here. you’ll walk out on the porch of the beautiful condo kento bought after retirement with a cup of coffee for him. you’ll read a book as your husband basks in the view of the beach he longed for all his life. your children and their spouses will drive in around afternoon, and spend the weekend with you both, letting you get time in with yū’s new baby, your grandchild. you will mingle, laugh, maybe cry and reminisce in all the memories you and your husband built up over the course of decades. your house will be loud with the sounds of kids and family and friends, all there to celebrate the life you’ve had with your husband.

even if kento were to die the next day, or in a year, or in 10 years, something would always remain true.

kento nanami had successfully spent his life with his true love.

taglist: @kundere20000000 @missakward123 @cherriee-ee @lagataprrr @ourfinalisation @ynniksslirg

let me know if you want to be added!

[ticklishfiend]

Ramble On (Arcane)

(lee!jayce, ler!viktor)

Word Count : 6978

Summary : Apparently, Jayce has a lot he wants to tell Viktor, but only does so once he’s drunk on Viktor’s couch. In doing so, his outward love of physical affection makes Viktor realize some things about himself.

a/n : happy new years everybody! tysm for the love on the last fic, it meant sm to me <3 i hope yall enjoy this one bc i really liked writing it. lee!jayce is a treasure and im holding him dear to my heart rn.

this is a tickle fic! not nsfw but the ending is suggestive, so don't like don't read! :D

—

Jayce cannot be serious right now.

“Just this once? Please, Viktor. That last gala made me feel like a– like a dissected lab rat. They had their hands all over me, trying to…pick me apart and figure out my game,” Jayce cringed, throwing his hands to the side in exasperation, “I’m a scientist, not some corrupt politician looking to exploit. I just feel so out of my league…”

Viktor nodded in understanding, his insides fighting against the sympathy he felt for this man. Viktor hated those galas with everything in him. He’s been to only two so far, right at the start of their partnership, and it was hell. 

They were exactly the way Jayce described, the way it made you feel like an object to be inspected upon by those giving you the funds for your work. Like you had to let them look at you the way they do, because in some round-about way you almost owe them the right.

It’s horrible. And now Jayce is begging, pleading with Viktor to go to another with him. 

Viktor’s not even sure what difference it’ll make that he’s there. Most people there always look at him like he’s some wall standing in the way of the Golden Boy. Jayce is always pulled away and prodded at while Viktor’s left to sip on his champagne and watch as Jayce shoots ‘help me’ looks his way. 

But tonight, Jayce seems desperate. The last one must’ve been pretty bad if he’s actually begging Viktor to come. He never forgets to at least ask Viktor if he’s changed his mind and wants to attend before leaving, but this time he looks like he’s about to get on his knees and clasp his hands together.

Viktor grimaced, looking up at Jayce from his office chair in the lab. “You really want me to go that bad?”

Jayce sighed with a tired nod, “Yes. I just need your moral support. I feel better when you’re there.”

“Jayce, I’ve only been twice.”

“Yeah, and they were the best ones I’ve been to,” he said sincerely, before putting his hands on Viktor’s shoulders and squeezing. “I am asking you a favor. Partner to partner. I’ll owe you one.”

Viktor stuck his tongue in his cheek and rolled it in thought. Jayce won’t stop looking him in the eyes like that, all wide and sad and puppy-ish. 

‘When did I get so weak-willed?’

“Okay fine. Fine. But–” Viktor stuck a finger in Jayce’s chest just as the man started to smile all bright. “You owe me. I will not forget this.”

Jayce’s eyes were like stars, “Oh thank you, V, thank you. I won’t forget this either, trust me. I’ll buy you all the sweet milk your stomach can take for this,” he cheered, looking like he was about to jump up and down in glee.

Viktor sighed, pushing himself up off the chair with his cane. “Yes yes, all the sweet milk money can buy,” he pat Jayce on the shoulder as he walked towards the lab doors. “I’m going to get freshened up in my room, so I will, eh…meet you there, I suppose?”

Jayce smiled hard as he ran to open the door for Viktor in gratitude. “You got it, partner.”

—

Just as Viktor suspected. Hell on earth.

It’s so crowded and noisy, the ballroom crawling with wealthy socialites that reeked of expensive perfume and alcohol– so much alcohol.

Viktor almost wonders if there was a pre-game party before this, because the amount of times they’ve had some rich lady nearly stumble over to grip Jayce on the arm and slur weird little flirts and compliments his way was staggering. Jayce looked like he was going to crawl out of his skin the whole night with the way these people were crowding him like ants to a cookie.

As the night went on, Viktor could tell it was getting to Jayce worse and worse. And not just by how visibly stiff and sweaty he’d gotten, either. 

Jayce was drinking way more than Viktor thought he would.

Glass after glass, Jayce was downing as much alcohol as he could pour down his gullet. At one point Viktor even tried to insinuate he slow down a little and fucking relax, but it was no use. Jayce just rolled his eyes like a teenager and took another glass off the nearest tray he could find.

At least he doesn’t look so out of place, seeing as nearly everyone here was on the brink of being trashed. It was surprising to watch all these high-life classy Pilties get their drink on like this, but Viktor couldn’t say it wasn’t a little bit amusing. 

He thought after he left Zaun that he’d seen about the end of getting to watch people stumble and trip over their own feet at a function, slurring their words and laughing too loud at nothing. He supposed it wasn’t the worst way to spend an evening.

But then, Jayce walked back over to him with this look in his eyes. Viktor’s brow furrowed in concern.

“Is everything alright?”

Jayce groaned, before throwing his head onto Viktor’s shoulder and mumbling into his shirt. “W’nna go home.”

Oh shit. Jayce is drunk. Really drunk.

Viktor patted him on the back, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one could see the Man of Progress pouting like a child into his partner's neck. “I concur. But– you’re coming home with me. I’m not letting you walk home alone like this, but my leg can’t make both trips.”

Jayce giggled into his neck, and his breath gave Viktor goosebumps. “Sleepoverrrr!”

Viktor sighed, repositioning Jayce to stand straight as he led them toward the exit. “I hope you know that whatever weird things you say tonight, I won’t let you live it down.”

“M’not gonna say anything weird. You’re just– you’re too judgemental,” Jayce spoke too slow, a little slurred, and Viktor couldn’t help but grin.

—

Oh Viktor has so much to tease Jayce for in the morning. He can hardly wait.

On their walk home, Jayce couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He was going on and on about how smart, how brilliant, how perfect Viktor was as his partner. Viktor couldn’t keep the blush off his face if he tried, but luckily Jayce was a little too out of it to notice. 

Jayce told him how good he looked in his gala outfit, that it fit him perfectly around the waist and the ‘butt area,’ as he put it. He confessed that he started putting sweet milk in his own coffee thanks to Viktor, and he loves it, despite how much he teases Viktor for his sweet tooth. 

And the closer they got to Viktor’s apartment door, the less Jayce could hold in his excitement about their little ‘sleepover.’

“Gonna make you play Twister with me,” Jayce joked with a giggle.

“Has anyone ever told you how much of a lightweight you are?” Viktor said as he stuck the key into his door, turning it to click. 

“Yeeeah, they told me that a lot at the academy,” Jayce smiled, walking in after Viktor and gasping. “Oh it looks so nice in here!”

“You’ve been here, Jayce. Not much, but you have.” Viktor rolled his eyes, placing his keys on the table and walking toward the open area kitchen next to the living room. “I’m going to get you some water. Go sit on the couch, you overgrown toddler.”

“M’not a toddler, I have a degree…” Jayce argued, doing as he was told and plopping onto the couch. He ran his hand over the cushion’s fabric, “You got new stuff since last time. Oh, your couch is so soft.”

Viktor opened the fridge and grabbed his water filter before reaching for the cabinet of cups. “Well, our job pays pretty nicely. I figured I could treat myself to a few furniture items here and there.”

Viktor made his way back to the living area, handing Jayce his cup and sitting next to him on the couch. It wasn’t even 11pm yet, so Viktor still felt wide awake. His hours have been so screwed up recently thanks to his many nights spent sleeping in the lab, so he knows that if Jayce doesn’t get to sleep soon, Viktor’s probably on babysitting duty for the rest of the night.

Which…didn’t sound so bad, to be honest. Viktor’s only seen Jayce drunk like this a handful of times, but that was usually when Viktor had a few more drinks in him himself.

When Jayce gets drunk, he gets silly.

Even sober, Viktor’s found himself chuckling at Jayce’s antics all night. Jayce is far from a stuck-up person, but he’s usually a tad more reserved with his playfulness, especially around Viktor.

He’s sure it’s nothing personal, Viktor can be a bit of a stickler about play in the lab, but he really likes getting to see this side of Jayce with a clear head now that they’re somewhere more private.

So watching Jayce giggle around the rim of the glass at literally nothing was much more amusing to him than it was annoying. He knows how embarrassed Jayce is going to be in the morning, and it only fuels the fire to keep this going.

Viktor can’t wait to see Jayce burn red when he recounts all the embarrassing things he’s said and done over the course of the last hour.

“What’s got your giggle-box turned over?” Viktor teased, bringing his feet up on the cushions and laying back against the arm of the couch so he could watch Jayce.

Then, realizing how weird that probably was, quickly snatched a book from the coffee table to pretend-read just so he isn’t too obvious with his staring.

Jayce snickered, placing the glass down on the table. “I dunno. You’re just, you’re being so nice to me. It’s funny.”

Viktor furrowed his brow with a smirk, “When am I not nice to you? I’m a delight.”

Jayce laughed a little harder at that. “Nooo you are nice. You’re super nice, I didn’t mean that,” he reiterated poorly, only making Viktor suppress a snicker of his own.

And before Viktor realized what Jayce was doing, the man’s head was suddenly laying down in Viktor’s lap, Jayce’s eyes peering at him from under the book. 

Viktor’s brows shot up in surprise. “Oh. Well hello there.”

“Hi,” Jayce smiled before his expression quickly turned to a little pout. He groaned as he grabbed the book in Viktor’s hands and tried prying it from his grip, but Viktor wouldn’t let go. Jayce groaned, “Uugh, pay attention to me.”

Okay, Viktor couldn’t not laugh at that. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. Super serious. I wanna talk, I like talking!” Jayce whined, still pulling on the book in Viktor’s hands. Viktor kept his grip tight, because it was far too amusing to watch this strong, bulky man fail to get a good tug in their little scuffle. “Viktor c’mon!”

“You’ve got to try a little harder than that to– aH! Hah- no, noho- Jayce, do not-!” Viktor’s voice pitched up without his permission, a choked off giggle escaping him as Jayce snuck his hands up over his own head to tickle at Viktor’s sides.

Alright. Maybe Jayce gets a little too silly when he’s drunk.

Viktor’s elbows crashed down to cover the area, letting the book fall off the couch without thinking, but that didn’t stop Jayce.

Now that he was latched on, he wasn’t letting go, and Viktor knew if he kept this up, he’d be giggling like a lunatic in no time.

Jayce grinned wide and proud. “Hah! You’re ticklish!” He teased, fingers pinching into Viktor’s sides with much more precision than they should with both the awkward angle and his clear inebriation. “I could tell. You look ticklish.”

Viktor shook his head, “Whahat does that even–?! gAh- okay, okahay! Enough!” He was full on giggling now, which is ridiculous because Jayce is supposed to be the one embarrassing himself right now, not Viktor.

Actually. What a wonderful idea.

Viktor gathered enough willpower to push his arms away from his sides, quickly diving his own fingers into Jayce’s very exposed armpits and digging in, albeit a little clumsily.

And yet, Jayce still screamed like a girl.

He shot his elbows down to his sides, immediately falling into a bout of ticklish laughter. His head leaned back and exposed his throat that bobbed through his cackling, legs gently kicking at the arm of the couch, more playful than anything.

“Nohohoho! Viktor!” Jayce cackled, and Viktor couldn’t help but snicker incredulously at the ridiculous situation he’s found himself in.

He’s got his fingers stuffed between Jayce’s arms, wiggling them into any muscle and bone he can that he knew would be sensitive on himself.

Viktor’s never found himself in the situation of having to tickle someone to make them stop tickling him before. Actually, now that he thinks about it, this might be his first time really tickling someone. He’s poked and pinched at Jayce a few times in the lab when he’s going about his daily routine of teasing Jayce til he turns pink, though he’d hardly count that as real tickling.

He’s teased Jayce for his ticklishness for a while now, ever since that day his elbow poked a little too funny into Jayce’s rib and made the man squeak. Of course, Viktor couldn’t help but take advantage, constantly reminding Jayce that, ‘yes, I remember, and technically speaking, I could use this information against you anytime I want.’

But really tickling? Burying his fingers into the flesh and digging there with enough gentleness to make Jayce laugh the way he is right now with his head thrown back into Viktor’s lap, caught up in breathless laughter and little squirms he couldn’t control…

...Yeah, this is certainly a first.

Though, Viktor’s not complaining. It’s quite hard to beat a view as cute as this one.

“Plehease!” Jayce begged through his giggling, shaking his head side to side. He wiggled helplessly on Viktor’s lap, but still kept his weight almost entirely off Viktor’s bad leg.

This man is so sweet it’s giving Viktor a toothache.

“What are you begging for? You started this, you were practically asking for it,” Viktor teased, grinning when he saw how flushed Jayce looked at his comment.

His fingers found a spot right near the top of Jayce’s ribs, and the man under him jolted with a cackle. 

“I did nohot!” Jayce argued pitifully, still doing nothing to push Viktor away and stop his assault.

If anything, it almost looked like he was trying hard not to stop him. His fists were balled up, occasionally gripping onto his own shirt like he needed something to grab onto. He was just…taking it.

Oh this could be very interesting if Viktor’s current theory proves correct.

Suddenly, Viktor stopped the wiggling of his fingers, keeping them still and motionless underneath the man’s arms. Jayce panted through his remaining giggles, twitching like he was expecting it to start up again at any point.

His smile never left, wide and bright as ever. Viktor could feel the man’s anticipation under his fingertips.

And Jayce looked positively giddy with it.

Viktor tilted his head in curiosity as he looked down at Jayce in his lap, his face upside-down from this angle. “Are you having fun down there?” He asked, taking advantage of Jayce’s loose tongue.

Jayce’s giggles just started anew, and Viktor didn’t have to move a muscle to prompt it.

“Stohop.”

“I did stop. Almost thirty seconds ago, I might add.”

Jayce’s nose scrunched up from his snickering, “I take it back. You are not nice.”

“Oh?” Viktor’s voice tilted, giving the fingers under Jayce’s arm an experimental curl.

Jayce jerked with giddy panic at the feeling, “Noho wait! You’re nice, you're nice, you’re so nice–! Plehease!

Viktor shook his head fondly, “Are you actually this ticklish or are you just drunk?” 

“Mmmhm, probably both” Jayce smiled wide, looking through his lashes up to Viktor. They both just stared at each other for a moment, Jayce with excited anticipation in his eyes, and Viktor…well, he could only assume he looked about as smitten as he felt. Again, hopefully Jayce was too drunk to notice.

Then Jayce squirmed with a hummed, mischievous giggle in his throat, before lifting his arms and wrapping them around Viktor’s waist, locking his own fingers together behind his slender back. He was looking at Viktor with a little challenge in his eyes, as if saying, ‘bet you won’t.’

Viktor’s own eyes widened, his jaw slacking in fond shock with a curl to the corner of his lips. Jayce cannot be serious.

“Is this an invitation, Jayce?” He asked with a skeptical chuckle, lifting his fingers to hover just above Jayce’s armpits and wiggle teasingly. At the sight, Jayce giggled hard and shut his eyes back up, his elbows flinching at the thought.

“Noooo,” he said, his smile betraying his words.“Just…gettin’ comfy.”

Viktor hummed, “Could you open your eyes then?”

Jayce’s eyes scrunched tighter. “No way.”

“Why not? You don’t like the view?”

“Oh shut it, you know that’s not why,” Jayce huffed, the grin just unable to leave his face. “No, m’just comfy. And if I can’t see you then…” he pulled his lips in like his next words were crawling out of him against his will. “...then, you can just do whatever you want. I dunno.”

Oh, Viktor is going to eat this man alive.

“So that’s what this is then?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you might.”

“Nope. Nuh uh. Shut up.”

“You’re telling me to shut up? In your position?”

Jayce threw his head to the side bashfully, his lips pressed together on a shy smile. “Hm?”

Viktor snickered, “You are actually asking for it. Oh you’re going to hate yourself for this in the morning, aren’t you?”

Jayce snickered, burying his face into the crook of his elbow, “I think I’ll just be glad I got it over with.”

“Oh? This is something you’ve wanted for a while then?” Viktor asked through a grin, before bringing down his index fingers to slowly, teasingly scribble into Jayce’s pits (because god, looking at Jayce like this, all inviting and practically begging for it, waiting any longer to strike would’ve probably killed them both). 

Jayce yipped, his elbows jerking inward and nearly covering his entire face. The fabric of Jayce’s dress shirt created a smooth glide under Viktor’s fingernails that he was sure felt torturous.

His arms shook with the effort to keep them locked behind Viktor’s back, but somehow he stayed put.

Not, of course, without giggling his head off at the lightest of touches under his arms, his heels digging into the couch cushions.

“Mahaybe-!” He managed through light, breathy laughter. His giggling sounded almost nervous, like he knew just how much worse this could get for him.

Viktor adjusted his jaw on his smile, throwing a look to the side like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He knew Jayce was a massive lover of physical affection, but good god, Viktor didn’t realize how much he’d like giving it to him.

So Viktor looked back down, getting into character. He’s never really tickled someone before, but he’s more than happy to learn with Jayce as his willing subject.

“There’s no way you’re going to be able to keep your arms up. I’d bet money on it.”

“You hahave– aHk-! Suhuch little faith in mehe!” Jayce joked, doing a much better job keeping composure under these circumstances than Viktor ever could.

Ignoring his comment, Viktor moved his hands lower on Jayce’s torso to pinch at his ribs meticulously, plucking at each one at the top. He got quite a rise out of the way Jayce’s giggles raised in pitch and panic, his legs kicking on their own accord.

Jayce’s desperate smile looked like it was going to burst at the seams.

“Ohoh no fahair!” Jayce whined, his eyebrows pinched together from frantic laughter. His face was so flushed, hair a tousled mess from his squirming, and Viktor felt himself growing warm at the sight. 

Shit. Viktor really likes this.

“How is this not fair? You knew I was going to tickle you, so why does it matter where I do it?” He asked, and though he used a teasing tone, he was genuinely asking. 

Weirdly, now that he’s realized how much fun this was, Viktor wants to approach this from a scientist’s perspective. Test theories, make conclusions, and above all, experiment.

“Becahahause!” Jayce threw his head to the other side, like he’s trying to block his face from all angles. “It– gghaAHha noo!– it’s wohorse!”

“How, Jayce?” Viktor paused his fingers, keeping them poised sharply against Jayce’s top rib. Jayce pouted, letting out another one of his famous whines. “I want you to tell me.”

“Uuugh,” Jayce groaned, looking pained in the best way that Viktor’s prying this information out of him. “It’s just…when you get all pinchy…it feels worse.”

Viktor hummed. “Worse in a bad way?”

Jayce just stared back at him with pinched lips like he’d been caught.

So Viktor grinned. “Ah. Worse in a good way then, hm?”

Jayce’s eyes shut tight, his mouth spreading into a bashful smile that looked impossible to fight back.

“So if I were to, say, do this-” Viktor pinched harsher at Jayce’s ribs, staying near the top and really letting his fingers dig in between the bone, practically vibrating into the flesh.

Jayce immediately arched through a cackle, his chest bouncing with the force of it. His face looked gleefully desperate.

“Noho don’t-!”

“-It would tickle worse than if I were to do this-?” He switched tactics quicker than Jayce could process the feeling, his fingertips softening along the ribs and skittering over the smooth fabric of Jayce’s shirt.

He could still feel the bones under his fingers through the thin fabric, feeling the way Jayce’s body jumped underneath him, and the sensation made Viktor’s stomach flip in excitement.

The change in tickling made Jayce stumble over his laughter, keening through the feeling as his laughter morphed from something deep and desperate, to a lighter, bubblier sound that made his ears turn pink.

“Gghk-hah- aha shihit!” Jayce could barely speak, so visibly flustered by Viktor’s teasing. It made Viktor feel something powerful yet caring surge through him. He was controlling Jayce’s reactions, forcing torturous sensations upon him and pulling humiliating sounds from his throat, and Jayce was loving every second of it. “I– I cahan’t!”

Viktor cooed, “Aw, but you are Jayce Talis. You can do anything you put your mind to, no?” The words flowed like butter off his tongue, the teasing coming so natural to him. He’s spent so long messing with Jayce in their lab, it’s like he knows the exact buttons to press now that he’s got him hysterical under his fingers.

And when Viktor began moving his hands inward, fingers spidering towards Jayce’s bouncing stomach, it seemed that was Jayce’s breaking point. With a frantic shriek he shot his arms down to protect his middle, his knees folding into himself as he quickly curled onto his side, still on Viktor’s lap. 

Viktor’s brows shot up in surprise at such a reaction, biting his lip on an amused smile. He brought his hands up to comfort a still-giggling Jayce, smoothing over his shoulder as he caught his breath in Viktor’s lap.

Viktor clicked his tongue. “I’m guessing the stomach is an off-limits spot, then?”

Jayce huffed a chuckle into Viktor’s thigh. Even drunk, he’s kept his weight entirely off Viktor’s bad leg through the whole ordeal, and even now brings a hand down to massage into the flesh the way he knows soothes Viktor’s aching muscles. Viktor felt his heart clench at such a caring action, wanting to lean down and kiss all over Jayce’s head and the mess of hair that covered it.

“Not off-limits,” Jayce started, his words mumbled into the fabric of Viktor’s pants. “There’s just no way I can keep my arms up if you’re there. It’s pretty bad.”

“Noted,” said Viktor, “I’ll remember to get you nice and secure next time.”

Jayce shot his head up, looking at Viktor with wide, nervous eyes. “N-Next time?”

God, Viktor wanted to just squeeze Jayce until he popped. “What, you didn’t like it? You looked like you were having a ball down there.”

Jayce flashed another shy, closed-mouth smile, his eyes darting away. “Well, I– I just thought that it wasn’t something that…well, something that you would wanna do again,” Jayce shrugged, “You’re not usually playful like that.”

And he’s right, usually Viktor wouldn’t indulge himself with such an outward display of childishness. He’ll tease, oh how he teases, but getting too physical always felt like some barrier he’d have to forge a long path toward tearing down.

Turns out, that barrier was a lot easier to cross when Jayce made it so clear how badly he wanted it from Viktor.

“Well,” Viktor started, smoothing his thumb over Jayce’s shoulder and feeling warm when Jayce leaned into his palm, “You seemed to be enjoying yourself so much. I expected you to push me away, and then…you didn’t. Once I realized you seemed to like it, I found myself enjoying it too,” he said, before chuckling softly, “As odd as it may be.”

Suddenly, the top of Viktor’s hand was enveloped with Jayce’s own (Viktor knew his hands were smaller than his partner’s, but good god, it pretty much wrapped entirely around his own), and it didn’t seem like Jayce even realized what he was doing. He was just savoring every bit of affection Viktor gave him, and indulged himself as he pleased.

As it seemed, Viktor could learn a thing or two from Jayce, and he really, really wanted to.bx 

“You caught me, I liked it,” Jayce mumbled, his words slurred and sleepy as he made himself comfy over Viktor’s lap, leaning his weight on the good leg. “But…I just really like when you’re like this. It’s fun.”

Viktor was glad Jayce’s eyes had slipped shut, because the look on his face had to be painfully obvious. He felt so warm, his insides turning gooey when Jayce snuggled the side of his face into Viktor’s thigh. 

Jayce is so honest. Too honest. Viktor loves and envies him for it so deeply. He can’t understand how Jayce is able to roll those words off his tongue like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do, like it isn’t painful to admit.

Viktor wants to learn how for Jayce. He’s a smart man, they both are. Maybe it’s not as hard as he made it out to be in his head.

He turned his palm up to squeeze Jayce’s, exhaling shakily when Jayce squeezed back gently, tired. “I like when you’re like this too, Jayce,” Viktor practically whispered, hoping his kind words were the last thing Jayce heard before falling asleep. 

—

Jayce woke up to the smell of coffee.

And just as soon as that warm smell hit him, a pounding pain behind his eyes seemed to hit even harder.

Jayce groaned. As he slipped his eyes opened, he realized the sun had a fucking vendetta against him this morning, its rays shining through the window directly into his eyes and going straight to that source of pain in his head. He threw his arm over his face with another groan. 

“I think I’m dying.”

“Well good morning to you too.”

Jayce huffed, suddenly remembering where he was. “Coffee’s on?”

He heard a little hum of confirmation from the kitchen, slumping further into the cushions. Jayce sighed, “I don’t think I even drank that much last night. I don’t know why I feel like actual death incarnate.”

“Oh no, you definitely drank too much. You had some of the punch, yes?”

Jayce peeked over the arm of the couch, sparing Viktor a furrowed brow. “Yeah?”

Viktor smirked, grabbing the coffee pot to pour into their respective mugs. “I suspect it may have been spiked. Everyone that touched that bowl went home slung over someone else’s shoulder.”

Jayce buried his forehead in his arm with a frustrated sigh. “That explains…so much.”

He heard the familiar click of a cane coming his way, lifting his head to meet Viktor’s gaze with a tired chuckle. Viktor handed him his coffee before seating himself down next to Jayce, blowing the steam off the top of his own cup.

“So…” Viktor started, not even glancing at Jayce as he grinned down the rim of his coffee. “...tickling, hm?”

Jayce choked on the coffee he had been trying to swallow down.

Viktor took Jayce’s cup and sat it down on the table to pat his back through the coughing fit, that calm and collected look on his face never wavering. Jayce felt himself burning to the touch.

“I– uh, I don’t– heh, it wasn’t like that–”

“Jayce,” Viktor commanded Jayce’s gaze with his voice. Jayce’s eyes were wide, biting down on his lip in embarrassment.

Viktor just smiled warmly. “I know how you are about physical affection. I’ve received more hugs from you in the past few months than I probably have in the last decade.”

Jayce nodded to show he was listening, but felt himself sadden a bit at the passing comment. How could anyone not want to hug Viktor?

Sure, he’s a bit bony, and is maybe a little intimidating when you first meet him, but Jayce had Viktor in a tight embrace within their first few months of acquaintance. Jayce can’t help but throw an arm around him any chance he can get. He’s just…touchable.

Still, Viktor continued, “And though I’m not one to usually give out such affections myself, you seemed…very happy last night.”

He twisted his lips, thinking of how to word it. “I’m unsure if the whole tickling thing specifically was just a manifestation of your intoxicated state, or if it’s something you also crave when you’re sober,” he tapped a nervous finger against the mug. “Nonetheless…I found myself enjoying it as well.”

Viktor shrugged, but looked a bit embarrassed at the admittance. “I’m sure you don’t remember details, but you told me last night that you had been hoping for something like that to happen for a while now,” he said, giving Jayce a hard, concentrated stare that made him nearly shiver. “Was it just my offering of physical affection that you wanted? Or…the specifics of how I handed it out last night?”

God. Jayce isn’t sure whether to be elated or mortified by how scientific Viktor was handling this.

He loves how Viktor’s accent curls around the words and makes them sound so clinical and professional, but he could also feel how hot his face was burning at the sound and was frankly a bit too embarrassed to answer in the same dignified manner.

“Um…” he started, cringing at the sound of his own wavering voice. “Sort of…both? I think?”

Viktor nodded, his face set in concentration on Jayce’s. Jayce felt so observed, and it made eye contact very hard.

“I do like the, uh…the– y’know-”

“The tickling?”

Jayce huffed, bringing a hand to his face. “Yeah. That.”

Viktor grinned. “You struggle to say the word?”

“In this context? Yeah. A lot.”

Viktor just pinched his lips on a smile. “Please, continue.”

Jayce sighed, “So, I do like that part specifically. Like, kind of a lot.” He shrugged shyly, bringing a knee to his chest to lean on, “But, you’re right, it isn't just that. I…do really like when you touch me in any way,” he said, before stammering, “Wait– that sounds weird but, you know what I mean.”

Viktor nodded once, “I do.”

Jayce exhaled like he’d been holding his breath, picking at the fabric of his pants anxiously. Shit, he never changed clothes last night. His shirt’s probably wrinkled to high hell right now. He must look like a mess.

Jayce ran fingers through his hair and looked down at the cushion of the couch. How is he supposed to tell Viktor how much he wants to touch him, to be touched by him, to feel every fabric of Viktor’s being under his fingertips and have the same done to him, without it sounding as romantic as it feels? 

He doesn’t want to scare Viktor off by admitting how he’s felt about him for the past…god, who knows how long by now, but with the way this conversation is going, it doesn’t seem like he’s getting out of it any time soon.

Jayce bit the inside of his lip. “I do remember last night. Not every detail, but I do remember bits and pieces,” he glanced at Viktor through his eyelashes. He looked so focused on Jayce, hanging onto his every word. “You seemed like you were having fun too.”

Viktor’s expression remained unchanged, but Jayce swore he saw his cheeks flush. “I was. I’ve told you that, you putz,” he taunted, the corner of his lips twitching upward. “You’re trying to change the subject— that subject being you.”

Jayce chuckled, crossing his arms and leaning back against the arm of the couch. “Okay, fine. What do you wanna know then?”

Viktor took a sip from his coffee, eyeing Jayce down over the mug the entire time. Jayce suppressed a squirm at the lingering gaze. When he swallowed, he sat the mug down in one swift movement, before leaning back himself.

“Is it a kink thing?”

Jayce thought his own eyes were going to bulge out of his head, his body suddenly running dangerously hot. Okay, now he’s squirming.

“Uh–” he stammered, chuckling nervously. “I mean, I guess it can be? I’ve never…tried it like that before or anything, but I don’t think I’d be opposed.” He scratched the back of his neck just to do something, anything with his hands. 

Viktor just kept watching him, and the realization that Jayce might be implying something with his words made him fumble.

“But that wasn’t– that’s not how I felt about it last night, if you were wondering. Not that I wouldn’t– I mean…god, I can feel how red my face is right now, you are the worst.”

Viktor couldn’t hold back a chuckle at that. He leveled his stare with a smile. “I’m not sorry. It’s quite amusing to see the Man of Progress squirm through such a confession,” he said, before giving a little shrug like this conversation wasn’t picking Jayce apart at the seams. “And, for the record, if it had been a kink thing…I wouldn’t have been opposed.”

Jayce’s mouth hung open slightly in shock. “Wha—Are you serious?”

Viktor smirked. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no, of course it’s not! I’m just… a little surprised, is all. That you’d be willing to, y’know, do something like that with me,” he said, greatly underexaggerating the feelings coursing through him right now. 

If the butterflies in his stomach were real, they probably would’ve eaten through Jayce’s body and infested the entire house by now. He can feel his own heart hammering in his chest, and he’s trying very hard not to get shaky. 

Jayce bit his lip. “I mean. I’m not saying no, but maybe…maybe sometime in the future is all.” 

No one has ever known this about him. He’s open about his love of affection, sure, but the tickling part? For some reason, that had always been kept close to his chest, something too vulnerable and embarrassing to say out loud. 

So for Viktor to know, and be so clearly fascinated by it, was eating Jayce alive. He’s loving every ounce of this humiliating attention, but he doesn’t know how much more he can take of not having Viktor wreak havoc over every sensitive spot he’s hidden for so long.

Viktor hummed, setting his cup down on the coffee table. He wasn’t looking at Jayce anymore, and his demeanor seemed almost…nervous now.

He was biting the inside of his lip the same way he does when he’s cutting it close on an important deadline, and his thumb tapped impatiently on the knee of his bad leg. And Viktor being nervous made Jayce feel nervous, almost hearing the thrum of his own heartbeat in his ears.

Viktor clicked his tongue. “I think it’d be stupid not to say something at this point,” he started, and Jayce felt his heart stop when Viktor leveled an anxious glare his way.

“Last night made me realize that, though I don’t like giving affection away to just anyone…” he smiled something warm and sweet. “...I like giving it to you. When I do, your face lights up something vicious, yet calm in me. I enjoy the feeling very much, and I can only hope you feel the same.”

Jayce felt his breath leave him. He smiled hard, reaching a hand out to grip Viktor’s. Viktor chuckled at the gesture, and squeezed back.

“I do, V. So much, you don’t even know,” Jayce breathed, scooting close to gather as much warmth from the man as he could. He tucked his face into Viktor’s neck, feeling light knowing Viktor enjoyed this just as much as he did. “Anything with you makes me happy.”

Viktor huffed a small laugh through his nose, bringing his free hand up to smooth up and down Jayce’s back. “You know…” he started, leaning his head back to look at Jayce properly, “I’m quite glad you’re such a lightweight, otherwise I don’t know if we’d have ever gotten to this point.”

Jayce snickered into Viktor’s neck, making the man scrunch slightly on a smile. “Yeah, me too.” 

And before he could stop it, Jayce found himself kissing softly at Viktor’s neck, slow and nervous but still so sweet with intent. He heard Viktor gasp, his head scrunching slightly against Jayce’s own.

“Ah– Jayce-”

“Is this okay?” Jayce whispered, his voice breathy with nerves. He kissed again, this time even softer and more hesitant with his question in mind.

And Viktor giggled.

Jayce smiled against the skin, “What are you laughing at?”

Viktor pushed at Jayce’s head, his own voice light with joy, “Your stubble is dreadful Jayce, stop!”

“Oh it’s dreadful is it? Bet you’re just full of dread right now–” Jayce grinned, very purposefully rubbing his mouth and chin all over the sensitive expanse of Viktor’s skin, smiling even bigger when Viktor fell into choked giggles and squeaks he was clearly trying to contain. “What’s wrong, V? Can’t take your own medicine?”

“You are a menace!” Viktor’s voice was so pitchy, Jayce couldn’t stop smiling if he tried. He couldn’t help but nip gently at the spot under Viktor’s ear, squeezing his arms around Viktor’s waist affectionately when the man cackled and pushed against him half-heartedly.

“No-! Horrible! You are–ahaha-!” Viktor melted into helpless giggles when Jayce’s fingers started pinching at his sides, soft and sweet and torturous. “F-Fuhucker!”

Then, Viktor seized Jayce’s wrists with a sudden urgency, and Jayce pulled off with a small look of concern. “Sorry, I just– I thought-”

“You are fine, Jayce,” Viktor panted through a little leftover smile. He brought his face closer to Jayce’s, so close the tips of their noses brushed, and Jayce’s lashes fluttered. Viktor grinned all smug, “I just figured, you may wish to kiss properly instead.”

Jayce breathed, nodding like an eager puppy, “Yeah. Yes, please.”

Viktor hummed in agreement. Then, finally, he closed the gap with intimate softness, brushing his lips teasingly against Jayce with a little breath of his own. Once Viktor had their lips locked together, he pushed forward with a sudden neediness Jayce had never seen in him.

Jayce made a pitiful sound into the kiss, letting Viktor lead their way through it. Viktor cupped his hand around Jayce’s cheek, and the other man eagerly placed his own on top, desperate to feel any and all of Viktor’s warmth.

And Jayce couldn’t help it, he was completely unable to keep quiet about just how much he was enjoying this. 

He panted little gasps when they broke apart, moaned when Viktor finally let his tongue slip through and grazed Jayce’s teeth. He felt Viktor’s hand slip up his shirt, and with how hot everything had been getting, was expecting a different kind of touch than the one he got.

Fingers curled softly at the back of Jayce’s ribs, wiggling soft and featherlight at the sensitive skin. Jayce made the most humiliating sound into Viktor’s mouth, a noise between a giggle and a moan, and Viktor hummed all smug in return. The sound made Jayce’s mouth tingle as his back instinctively twitched away from the soft touch, though Viktor’s fingers always followed.

“V-Vik–”

“You’re so sensitive, Jayce. Ticklish,” Viktor drawled, and Jayce felt himself shiver at the word. “And, if you’d allow me…” he leaned into Jayce’s ear, making sure his lips brushed feathersoft against the skin just to make Jayce tremble. “I’d like to find every spot that makes you tick.”

Jayce felt his entire body flush red hot.

“You are way too good at this.”

Viktor just kissed him again, mumbling into his lips, “I remember something about you owing me? Does this ring any bells?”

Jayce whined through a smile, hiding his face into the crook of Viktor’s neck. “You are evil. Pure, pure evil.”

Viktor chuckled, pinching his fingers into Jayce’s ribs, then not moving his fucking fingers. Jayce felt like a live wire, entirely tense and way, way too excited. 

“Yes, yes. So evil,” he teased, crooking his fingers just slightly to make Jayce whine through a giggle. “Now. Try to stay still, yes?”

Jayce was never going to live this down. 

He’s never been happier to owe anyone anything in his entire life.

…

a/n : tysm for reading! ik this was long but i couldn’t help myself they’re so cute and i just kept needing to write more and more LOL. hope u guys enjoyed and again, happy new years to everyone!! luv u guys MWAH <3

[keravnous]

atop of cherry hill ; arthur shelby jr/fem!reader (18+, smut)

Thomas Shelby has had enough of Arthur's violent outbursts. Thus, he pays you to help the oldest Shelby brother with blowing off some steam. Or: Thomas "mistakes" you for a prostitute and Arthur pops your cherry.

word count: 12,1k

warnings: fem!reader, dubcon; implied but also not so-implied involuntary prostitution, (imagery of) blood and violence; unprotected sex (this man might not be real but stds surely are, so wrap it up kids), age gap (reader is in her 20s, arthur is in his mid to late 30s), power play and power dynamics, fingering, riding, backshots, dirty talk, name calling, slight bimbofication and dumbification - if you blink you'll miss it, corruption kink, loss of virginity/virgin kink, spit kink, spanking, rough sex, sir kink; late season one/early season two arthur, set somewhere between s1 and s2,, time is just a construct babes ; he's so pathetic and sad I love him; I tried to write Brummie but jfc I am just a small little German girlie alright I am so sorry; also grace is still in birmingham too?? bc i love her sm

this is so so so heavily inspired by foy vance's make it rain bc it just fits idk; also a big fat ty to my bud for keeping up with me live blogging my arthur thirst youre a gem bro; also why am I always so fucking late to everything, is this fandom still alive??

"Move."

"Mr Shelby, I-", you nearly stumble as Thomas drags you forward and you look up at him, dark hair framing his face, blue eyes shining sternly from the cavities of his skull-like and bone-pale face. You know him.

Well, not personally. But you have heard the stories - a multitude of them coloured in blood red and wailing agony - you have seen people clear tables in pubs for him and the streets for him. Something, no someone on your periphery moves, strolls over.

"She'll do", says the younger version of him approaching, moving the tooth pick in the corner of his mouth from one side to the other, "Lass got jus' wha'he fancies." He is walking towards you, slouching a little with his fists buried is pockets. Looking at you, he kisses his teeth, grins. "Oh, smile, sunshine. Tommy'll pay you nicely for this, y'got nuttin to loose."

"Get her inside, John", so that little prick is the youngest Shelby, then, "He'll be here, soon."

"What's got his knickers in a twist t'day, eh?"

"Sabini. Get her inside, and make sure she's--", Tommy eyes you up and down, the way you clutch your little embroidered handbag, "Nice and comfortable, right?"

John snorts, shrugs. "Right this way, mylady", he says, bowing mockingly.

The Garrison is warm, the air inside smells of malt and cigarette smoke. The pub is empty, except for a young blonde woman who stands behind the counter. She is currently polishing glasses, looks up as the door falls shut behind you. Relief washes over you.

You are not alone. There is another woman here. You will not be hurt. The woman gives you a quick once-over, and all hope flies straight out the window as she quickly unwraps her apron and drops it on the counter. "You're early", she says, to no one in particular, seemingly just to complain.

"Tell that to Tommy", John replies, pushes one door of the snug on your right side open, "Bring 'er some whiskey first and then clear the air, will ya?"

She mutters something to herself and turns around to the shelf behind her. "After you", John ushers you into the dimly lit snug.

You take a few steps forward, into the room. Unsure what to do, you just stand there, taking it all in. The room smells of cigars and men's perfume.

"Sit", John says, waves his hand aimlessly at the bench, seats padded with red velvet. Anxiety has the hairs on your body standing up, a cold rushing down your spine.

"I don't want to."

"Fine, suit yerself", he shrugs again, leans against the doorframe, "Y'know why you're here?"

You're not stupid. If the lawyer's office you had once worked at as a secretary back in London, had not been bombed out, you would have never returned to your hometown of Birmingham. Money is tight, with your gran being so ill and your father and grandfather being buried in Verdun. Your mother has left a long time ago.

You want to protest, to open your mouth and say that you are not a prostitute, - I am not like Lizzie Stark -, but the weight of five fucking hundred pounds in your bag drags your hands down, keeps your mouth shut. You really need the money. This much can easily get you through a few months, maybe even a full year.

Thus, when Thomas Shelby had stood on your doorstep, waving a thick wad of cash in front of your nose, and requesting your presence, you had no real choice but to accept.

"Yes, Mister Shelby", you say, voice small as you feel shame and anxiety washing over you in cold, sweaty waves.

John just nods and you want to ask Who will I be seeing today but something about his demeanour - the way he leans there, eyes cold and indifferent - tells you, that he wants to be here even less than you do.

Eventually, you do take a seat. The blonde woman brought some gin a while ago, which you neither touched nor drank, and you carefully sink onto the table next to it. She left right after putting the bottle and two glasses down, shutting the pub's door behind her. Minutes go by. A minute becomes ten, until an hour passes and the sun starts to set slowly. An hour grows into an hour and ten minutes, until -

There's commotion outside. The thundering of a motor carriage. People yelling. Steps approaching and then the front door being swung open, with such force that it rattles against the wall. John moves away from the snug's door just in time, before it too gets forcefully yanked open, revealing a man with neatly trimmed auburn hair and an equally as trimmed moustache. His face is ragged and hard with rage as he enters the room, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He is trailed by Thomas, who immediately looks at you.

The new arrival does not bother himself with your presence, only wipes away at his forehead, which you only now notice is bleeding. A cut, right underneath his hairline, not too deep but deep enough to bleed. Profusely.

"That fuckin' rat", he bellows loudly, in such a deep baritone that his voice vibrates inside your chest. He sounds rough around the edges, his accent swirling along his tongue thickly with his throat all coarse, like something constantly pains him. Like that pain edged itself onto his voice, broken it up and now pushes it out all gravelly. "Y' should've let me kill him, Tommy, that's what ya fuckin' should've let me done", he throws his grey coat onto a chair, takes a drag from his cigarette and then slams his fist onto his palm, hard and loud, as if trying to prove a point, "He ain't gonna keep his fuckin' gob shut and then what, eh? Let me deal with him now. Let me cut his fuckin' tongue out, that fat bastard -"

Thomas says nothing, just stands there smoking his cigarette, while the other man continues enraging himself, throwing profanities around. "Tomorrow, Arthur. Tomorrow, I will let you deal with him", he eventually says, pats the man - Arthur - on the back, "Today, I want you to enjoy yourself for once, eh?"

Arthur. You have heard of him, too: the elder Shelby sibling - a vicious and brutal thug, cruel and pitiless, loyal to the family and the game. You once heard he had maimed someone, strolling down Birmingham main road after, drenched in blood looking like he bathed in it. Another time you heard he had beat someone to a pulp so badly, his brains and innards flew everywhere in a mushy mousse. Just a few days ago you heard that he tore someone's throat out with his teeth in a bar tussle.

You shudder. No. Not him. Anyone, anyone with a gentler reputation. You already expect him to lash out, explode like a fucking grenade in an instant and blow this place up with yelling and flying fists but --

But for now, he just looks at his younger brother, unmoving and back still turned towards you. "Brought you a gift", Thomas' mouth quips up in the smallest of smiles before his gaze drops to you.

And you just stand there, in your pretty dress, unsure of what to do with your hands as Arthur turns around slowly. His gaze lands on your frame. If he thinks of something, anything he masks it, face an iron mask of anger.

"Who's that?", he asks, plainly, as if he is missing something important here.

John chuckles and Thomas says, without batting an eye: "A whore."

"You got me a girl?", Arthur states flatly, blinks at you and you shift uneasily underneath his piercing gaze. And then, after no one says anything for a heartbeat or two: "What? D'ya think I'm fuckin' fifteen, Tommy?"

"Jus' thought ya could yer dick wet", John says, moves his tooth pick. Left to right. And back.

"Watch yourself, you little shite", Arthur hisses and John lifts his hands, laughs quietly - but backs off just a little, just to be sure.

"John, wait outside", Thomas' voice sounds exhausted, cold and John just looks at him for a moment, before tipping his cap towards you with a grin, making a real show out of exiting the snug and the pub slowly. Before the door shuts, Thomas is already approaching Arthur, placing a firm hand on his shoulder in pulls him in a huddle as he talks lowly. You try to make out what they are saying, but what you can catch sounds - apart from your name - like gibberish to you. That is, until you realize that they are talking in a whole different language.

While Thomas holds Arthur close, murmuring something, his gaze flickers back and forth between you and his older brother. Soon after Thomas leaves, pats his brother on the shoulder without offering you as much as one last word, one last look before he closes the door behind himself.

You are alone with Arthur now - Thomas Shelby's most powerful, most violent tool. The room suddenly feels too small, like the walls are closing in, suffocating you.

Arthur turns around to you once more. You say nothing and neither does he, just looks at you, let's his gaze wander over your form with hands buried in his pockets. The cigarette still dangles from the corner of his mouth, smoke curling and dissipating into the air. Neither of you says a word for a while; you just stand there, like that little robin that you observed in your backyard yesterday. It froze, as the stray cat sneaked closer and ever closer. As if it truly considered, not moving would make the cat believe it was either already dead or just plainly imagination, conjured by hunger. As if that would stop the cat from burying its claws into it, its sharp teeth to tear it apart and feed from its flesh.

You shift uncomfortably. A man like him, any man like the Shelby men for that matter, is a dangerous man. An image flashes before your inner eye - like a premonition, like a warning: you, battered and bruised, blood tickling from your nose as you stumble back home, dress torn and hairdo ripped apart with a few strands missing.

"You're clean, right love?", his gravelly voice pulls you from your thoughts. He looks at you, straight into your eyes and goosebumps erupt on your skin, while he remains where he stands. The question makes your cheeks heat up and you would really really love to just leave - but his gaze keeps you glued to the spot, piercing blue eyes boring deep into your soul.

"Yes, Sir", you answer dutifully, nodding, ignoring the shame heating up your face. One of his hands comes up, rubs his chin like he is thinking real hard.

"How'd that be?"

"Excuse me?"

"How's a pretty girl like ya clean?"

Heat rises on your cheeks, your eyes water. "I--", your voice breaks, "I am not-"

"Not clean, eh?", he says just as you usher out: "A prostitute."

Now, his face breaks. Brows shooting up, blinks rapidly, irritated. "'Scuse me?"

You swallow. Shit. Now he is gonna send you away, and Thomas will come for his money. You can't have that - you need that money.

"I just do hand-stuff, normally", you say, surprised at how easily the lie slips over your lips, fills the air in a steady tone.

"That's a prostitute in my book, sweetheart", he answers cooly, shrugs, and moves towards the bottle of gin, "Y'wan'a drink?"

Your hands shake, and he cannot - should not - see that and thus, you shake your head.

He mutters something inaudible, as he pours himself a glass, voice a low rumble. You decide it is best not to inquire. Not to move. You remain standing, as he pours himself another glass and downs it quickly just like the other, shoulders visibly relaxing, before sitting down on the red padded bench, throwing his half-smoked cigarette into your empty glass. Arthur looks at you, expression unreadable. "C'mere", he eventually says, the slightest bit annoyed and you follow hastily - muttering Yes, Sir that has the corners of his mouth quipping up in a dirty grin - placing your bag next to the bottle onto the table, before approaching him.

Arthur's legs are spread, the expensive wool of his trousers wrapping snugly around lanky but muscular thighs. You take him in for a second, the auburn nearly ginger hair gelled back, forehead stained by blood, his face hard and unmoving, the specks of blood scattered on his nice and expensive looking grey suit. You step closer and to your surprise he extends a calloused and freckled hand, that you gently place yours into - soft and fragile in comparison - and he takes it, helps you onto his lap. Your body is stiff with anxiety and you hope, pray, that he does not notice.

The first thing you become aware of, among the strange but welcome sensation of being so so close to another human being - to a man, is his scent. He smells surprisingly nice. Wooden and of foreign spices, rich and heavy. Like a bonfire. Like a twelve-hour shift at the coal factories. Still expensive, but as if the perfume cannot fully cover, hide his heritage as a working-class man. He smells of cigarettes and liquor and blood and money. The scent wraps you in, a cloud of luxurious silk and crackling fire wood in a heath, makes you ease into his lap.

You wonder if Arthur can smell the flowery toilet water you put on earlier. You bought it before the war, back in London. It is the last proper thing you own.

His hand forsakes yours, drops down to your thigh, where your dress has already ridden up your legs. His skin is warm on yours and then you feel it, like your sense coming back alive, jolting awake under a thick haze of fear: His hardening bulge pressing against your cunt, right between your legs. Huge and warm, already rock hard.

Your mouth falls agape slightly, cheeks turning a pretty shade of red in an instant. He chuckles, a deep and rumbling sound. You do not dare to look at him, keeping your eyes trained on the golden chain, that secures the watch in his waist coat. It gleams prettily in the warm and dim light of the petrol lamps, like molten sunshine.

"I really hope ya haven't planning on only givin' me yer hands tonight, sweetheart", he keeps his gaze trained on your thighs, watches how his hands rest on them, large and slender fingers on your comparably small legs, thumbs caressing the lace hem of your stockings.

You do not know what you have planned. You had no plans. You accepted an offer and only now come to realization what following through with the service required really means. You have no clue how any of this works: sex, prostitution, pleasuring a man. But you know what they all want in the end. And you are certain he will be mad, if you do not give him what he desires.

"Of course not, Sir", you say quietly, thinking about the money in your bag. You got this. You simply have to.

"Ya just a very prim 'n proper young lady, aren't ya?", he hums. You hear the clasps of your garters snapping open and they fall to the sides, allowing him to pull your stockings down down down to your knees. His hands are rough on your soft skin and the touch is foreign, but it electrifies you nonetheless, has you looking up from his watch chains.

Arthur meets your gaze - has been watching your shy, beautiful face the whole time while being visibly amused by your modesty - blue eyes gleaming in the golden hue of the lights.

There is a profound sadness in his eyes. It goes deep, deeper than you dare to look. His features are harsh and unmoving, his eyes hard but their gaze is surprisingly soft; a warm summer's day lake hiding behind the Atlantic storm. You wonder who hurt him. Who left him. Who beat him, broke his heart, chewed it up and spat it back out. You wonder if what happened to him was a tragedy or just the war.

You want to touch it, wipe the sadness away. The thought gives you whiplash with the way it sneaks up on you, hits you across the back of your head and pushes itself to your front-lobe violently. He is beautiful. In his own ragged, brash way - with freckles dusted over his nose and cheeks, some of them gotten lost on his jaw as well, high cheekbones and plush, worrisome tilted lips.

Your body betrays you as your thumb dances over the corner of his mouth and then you lean forward, gently put your lips onto his. It takes him a moment, like he is surprised by the gentleness of it all, before he kisses you back. And does he kiss you. Soft at first, he grows hungry quickly, desperately licks into your mouth and grabs your jaw, holds your head in place as he pushes his tongue against yours and your lower back flush against the edge of the table as he latches onto you. You have kissed men before, drunken at the fair or sober in back alleys, but no other man has ever kissed you like he does now. He is all force and passion and it disarms you, makes you soft and responsive in his hold.

You sling your arms around his neck, hands clutching at his jacket, as he leans into you. Arthur's hands are everywhere, roaming over your thighs, your hips, your back as he feels you up, pulls you closer. You feel like a ragdoll in his arms, being thrown around for his pleasure and your belly tingles traitorously. Arthur pants against your lips, drags his tongue along your lower lip before his teeth gently nip at it.

Not wanting to lose all control and staying close to him - his warmth, the friction of his lean, strong body against yours - you press yourself back against him, and he sinks into the velvet cushion, groans into your mouth as you roll your hips into his dick. Arthur parts his lips from yours, licks the corner of your mouth hungrily as you draw in breaths hectically, rolling your hips once more.

And then you feel it. You are so fucking wet. It seeps through your underwear already, and your body feels like it's on fire, tingles all over. Your upper lip stings from his assault, with the way his moustache has rubbed against your soft skin there and your bottom lip is sore from him pulling and sucking at it. Then, something happens within you; something that you have never felt with such intensity. It starts with a sharp electric tingle in your belly, that shoots right between your thighs, has your loins practically catching fucking fire. It feels like your whole body lights up - so heavily that your fucking brain shuts off, short-circuits.

Suddenly, you want him to be closer - no, you need him to be closer. Without thinking, without debating it with yourself first, without any form of making sense or weighing the consequences of your actions your hands run over his muscular chest, feeling him up while you lean in, pressing hot, wet kisses to his neck.

He feels nice beneath your hands, firm and warm and you wrap your arms around his neck as you dive in again, his eyes already trailing your lips, before you are locking them with his. You steal the air from his lungs as you lick into his mouth, rubbing your body against his, tits pressed to his chest, hips rolling into his dick until you pant into the kiss so heavily that he breaks from you, licks his lips. Instead of stopping to touch him, your hands trail down the lapels of his jacket, slipping underneath it, thumbs trailing the muscles of his stomach.

"Sweetheart", he says lowly, voice trailing off, eyelids fluttering. He has not been touched like this in a long, long time. And he feels like it is going to drive him insane, if he does not stop you soon. Your tender, soft fingers - delicate in comparison to his - keep brushing over his expensive suit, cradling his neck, caressing his shaved head right behind his ears, grabbing his face. It feels too gentle and he fears that his heart is going to explode from it. It's too much - too much for someone like him, someone who belongs nowhere, to no one, who is never cared for. Someone who is as lonely as he is. It has his blood boiling.

Grabbing your hands and pulling them off him, he looks at you - gaze sharp, hard; the sad sea icy. "Y' better get to it, now."

His words, cutting and sharp as shrapnel, yank you out of a cotton-candy stasis, your brain all mushy and hard to reach, hard to use. "Yeah, sure", you breathe, nodding, "Yeah, 'f course."

You swallow, as your hands move - shaking, fluttering nervously and a little aimlessly in the beginning - to get his wool jacket of first. He does not make it harder for you as it already is, but also does not help you much, only throws his jacket to the side carelessly once it comes off. Keeps his eyes trained on your face, studying your every move, on the lookout for any and every single twitch of your facial muscles like a fucking deadly desert predator.

And there it is, comes into vision: the predators, well - weapon. It sits silently, unmoving, in a holster beneath his shoulder. Its silvery handle peeking out towards you mockingly.

His gun.

You swallow. Visibly.

Arthur makes a guttural sound. "That ol' thing's scarin' ya, sweetheart?", he sounds amused almost, reaches for it and you freeze. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, relax", he takes it out of the holster, places it onto the table, where it clinks as it connects with the wood, before he adds with a playful wink, "At least not like tha'."

Unable to control, to stop yourself, you still peak over your shoulder, assessing where it lays. Just in case. Mustering the revolver, you --

A hand grabs your chin, surprisingly gentle, and your face is slowly turned towards back to then man, whose lap you are currently sitting in. Like the gun wasn't already enough to shake the foundation of your world, he now looks at you, coos quietly. "Aren't ya a panicky lil' bird", his hand caresses your cheek and you seriously do not know who he is anymore, with his sad but cold eyes, the dried blood on his forehead, the loaded gun on the table and his loving touches, "Relax, eh? Nothing's gonna happen, as long as I'm 'ere." And as if he is trying to prove this point - maybe even to himself - he straightens up a little, sits back up, the motion pulling you deeper into his lap, with one of his large, slender hands running up your back slowly, steadying you. Goosebumps erupt on your skin. "Yes, Sir", you say, voice small and it does not even sound convincing to yourself.

"Jus' forget about the gun and make me feel good, love", he whispers and grabs you by the hips, pushes them down to meet his. You feel his hard dick pressing against your clothed cunt again and that is enough. The fire returns to your loins, so rapidly it knocks the air out of your lungs. And your body stops belonging to you, as all reason gets washed from your head, leaves you a little dizzy with lust.

The red velvet of the bench is soft beneath your knees as you put your weight onto them and roll your hips. You immediately gasp, feeling his boner pressing against your cunt hard, its heat seeping through the fabric. This is different than your pillow. Better. You roll your hips once more, with more intent this time, grinding yourself down on his dick. And Arthur hums, a low and guttural but pleased sound.

You know, he has told you to get a move on but you cannot keep yourself from running your hands over his arms, up up up, feeling the muscular, veiny arms beneath your palms while you rut down on his cock, small whines and desperate gasps erupting from your throat. You struggle with his holster a bit and he does not seem to bother to help you anymore, his hands running up and down your thighs, to the curve of your ass. While you tug at the leather straps helplessly, gasping with each time your pussy brushes his cock, he looks over your shoulder, evidently distracted. "Your arse feels fuckin' nice, love", he says, hands gliding up your legs and over your girdle skirt, underneath your dress until they reach your butt and squeeze.

Pleasure shoots through your loins and you rut into him - hearing his breaths going ragged - as he grabs a fistful of your ass and deepens the movement of your hips, while you toss his holster on the bench, shrugging his waistcoat off. "Ever been fucked back there?", he husks, middle fingers dancing along the crack of your butt while he looks up at you through his auburn lashes and God Almighty, do you blush. Your cheeks burn with Red Red Red spreading across them, heat rising in your cheeks as well as your chest as you think about it - you on your knees, finger buried deep in expensive Egyptian linen sheets as he fills both your holes with his dick and his fingers. You shake your head shyly, lips slightly parted.

And Arthur's gaze drops down to them before he decides he has not had enough of you yet, leans it, locks his lips with yours again, groans into your mouth as you start to loosen his tie and unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt right after. You can see pale skin peeking out from there, dotted with freckles as many as there must be stars under the moon. "Next time", he murmurs to himself against your lips, throws his tie to the side where it slides of the bench and to the ground, "Next time I'll have ya back there." His arm wraps around your waist and pulls you even closer, your lower belly flush against his.

And that is when Arthur feels it. A dampness, that presses itself onto his cock, different from the small patch of precum he has already blown into his own undergarments. He whistles wolfishly, lifts you up a little.

There it is. A damp patch on his fucking 300 pounds suit, right where his cock strains against the fabric, the outline visible through the darkened wool. "Fuck me", he breathes, looks up at you, eyelids a little heavy, "'S got ya that hot already, love?"

You blink down to the damp patch, feeling your own wetness between your legs. "Oh God, I am s-so sorry", you stammer, knowing he will have to bring this to the cleaners if he isn't planning on carrying your scent with him for a least a few weeks. He will snap. You have heard the stories, he will-

"Sorry?", he echoes, a playful edge to his voice and it surprises, takes you aback, has you staring at him in disbelieve. "Y-your suit, I am terribly sorry I ruined it, Sir", you try again, voice small while you think about the revolver laying behind you, a reminder of his wrath.

"Fuck the suit", Arthur barks out a laugh, "And fuck that dress."

With that, his hands leave your hips and grab the button line at your chest, and riiip at the fabric. The buttons come flying, ricocheting of the wall and the floor noisily, the soft fabric tearing easily. You gasp, a little surprised and a little in grief. This was your favourite dress. A reminder of better times. You watch in both, shock and anticipation that has the hairs on your body standing up, as he peels the soft cotton off you, leaves you in only your girdle skirt. He acknowledges the lack of a proper undergarments with a barely noticeable grin, runs his gaze over your body. You have a nice pair of tits and a pretty waist, but there is something else he wants first and he tables the thought to mark you up and litter your soft skin with bruises for later.

"Imma buy ya a new one, love, don'tcha go soft on me now", he discards the fabric to the ground, places one hand on the small of your back and pulls you close, your naked tits pressing against his expensive button down. Your temple sinks on his shoulder, eyes fluttering and lips brushing over his neck, tasting his perfume and his sweat. He radiates heat, smells of lust as he looks at you through hooded, dark eyes. "I promise, eh? I'll get ya s'mthing prettier", and you ease into his touch, as he tugs at the girdle - your favourite, a blush pink with pretty lacing at the sides - but he just carelessly shoves it up up up and over your waist instead of untying it properly. His fingers brush over your panties, right where they meet your skin at your hipbones. "Add those to the list", you feel your skin sting as he pulls at them, impatiently and abruptly, tears at the fine satin and rips them clean off.

And Jesus Fucking Christ, he thinks he might smell your arousal right now - thickly sweet, the scent wrapping him in. Arthur yanks your legs apart by spreading his own further, and you gasp, as your knees press snugly against his thighs, cool air hitting your wet cunt. His hands run up your legs and one of them grabs your hips, keeps you steady as the other one brushes over your pubic bone before dipping between your legs. His hand presses against your pussy flatly as he practically grabs your cunt, feels your slick, and runs his palm through it. Your hips buck and you groan, a firework of arousal shooting through your loins.

Then, his fingers spread, two of them running through your folds, back and forth assessing your wetness, and feeling your cunt up. "'S a real pretty pussy ya got 'ere", Arthur looks up from watching his hand vanishing between your legs, lewd sounds of your slick already filling the air. All you can do, the sole response you can muster, is a looong appreciative whine, that gets stuck in your throat as his middle finger presses against your hole cooly.

Breath hitching in your throat, and you release a mangled sound as Arthur pushes his finger in recklessly. The dull burn has your muscles tensing up, your surprise over the sudden intrusion not helping as you clench around him, blocking him from sinking his finger into you fully. Arthur goes stiff as you furrow your brows, hands flying to his wrist, grabbing it in panic while you jolt up in his lap. A pathetic little noise slips over your lips, something that sounds like a broken, small plea.

"Fuck, so that's what he meant", Arthur blinks, stares down at where his finger barely sunk into you, with your hole clutching tightly around him. His palm shines wetly with your juices.

You whine, chest heaving, hands grabbing his biceps. "P-please", your voice sounds high-pitched and oddly foreign in your own ears. He can feel the way your hole nearly cuts of the blood flow in his finger, with how tightly it sits around him and he recognizes the tensity immediately. He has felt it time and time again and his blood sings with it, his cock giving an excited twitch in his pants.

"You ain't never been a prostitute, eh?", he looks up at you, eyes suddenly dark like the stormy sea at night. You can only shake your head, the intrusion of his hefty finger and the dull pain of your muscle being stretched by it are too much already, has your head swimming and heart racing. And it's not even fully in yet. "I fuckin' knew it", he rumbles, voice victorious and dark.

The tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine and arms. He does not seem to mind - rather, it seems to get him going, and his reaction makes you feel light-headed.

This is not how you imagined your first time to be like. You wanted it to be soft and slow, ideally on your wedding night, in a bed with a gentle man with soft hands and a respectable career. In the dark of the night, with candles burning, two bodies carefully and slowly, lovingly exploring each other. You did not think it would happen in a pub, of all places, on a late Thursday afternoon with someone who seems to have taken a sport in fucking virgins.

Realization hits you like a train. This is going to be your first time. This man, this violent animal, will be the one taking your innocence.

Arthur watches you intently, kisses his teeth. "I'll make it nice f'ya", he says like he can read your thoughts, voice sounding far away and strangely, you believe him. Believe his soft gaze, his hand that rubs a soothing circle onto your lower back.

"Will it hurt?", you whisper, barely audible. You have heard it does. Some of your friends were bleeding after.

That's when his gaze grows warm, with the darkness behind it still lingering but you barely register it as he is shaking his head - far too busy in wanting to trust him to notice the way his lips tilt up, eyes gleaming with perverse anticipation. He hopes his throbbing cock does not betray him. Oh, how much he will enjoy taking you apart, how much he loves seeing innocent, inexperienced women going dumb on his dick, seeing their pretty faces contort in ecstasy once he rips their maidenhead. Without doubt you will look pretty, too - beautiful even. Silently, he thanks Tommy. Look what the cat dragged in.

"It won't", he says, and there is such an earnest tenderness to his voice, that it shocks him just as much as it shocks you. Releasing a deep breath you did not know you were holding in the first place; you nod.

"Let go off me hand", and you do, grabbing his shoulders instead, as his other hand moves between your legs as well before his pointer and middle finger gently brush against your clit. The feeling that errupts in your belly is heavenly.

"Oh", you make quietly, voice a little high, as he starts to rub soft big circles over it, gently nudging it.

"See? It'll feel nice, love", and you feel it, too. Your muscles unclenching as pleasure shoots through your abdomen, your hole fluttering open after he works your clit for a while, taking his finger in willingly. You barely notice, how it glides in deeper and deeper, the stretch losing all its pain, while you moan and gasp, watching how his hand works your clit.

You sink against his hand hastily, wanting more, whining as the pad of his finger knocks against your walls and your hips stutter.

"Sh, sh, sh", Arthur tuts, his hand comes free from your clit, brushing free strands of hair from your face and behind your ear in one fluid motion, before cupping the nape of your neck, "Slowly now, love. I wan' you nice and loose, before I wreck you."

Nodding, you try your best to relax your muscles once more as he starts to move his finger slowly again, pressing it in fully. You gasp, suddenly feeling the cold gold of his ring resting against your hole. There's little room inside of you now and he gives you gives a minute or two to let you get used to the feeling, before he carefully bends his finger, rubs along your hot spongy walls. "Feel that?", he says and you do. The tingling in your stomach rises, sends bolts of pleasure through your belly. You moan, looking down where his finger vanishes between your legs.

"Yeah", you breathe, lips agape. "'S good?", he asks, genuinely curious and it sends your head spinning.

You nod, hole already fluttering around his finger and he starts to move it slowly, pulling it back and forth, until he can fuck you with it easily. He retrieves it fully, leaves you mewling unhappily, before he prods against your hole with two fingers instead. "There ya go, girl, nice 'n steady", he adds pressure against the tight ring once more and you willingly spread your legs a little, the velvet burning on your knees as they glide over it, parting your thighs to make more room for him. Arthur pushes his digits in, and you moan sweetly, the stretch pleasant and not as hurtful as you would have expected.

And Arthur starts to move slowly, drags the pads of his fingers along your walls, slowly oh so slowly fucks you open with them. He takes his time, spreading his fingers apart whenever your moans sound too sweet and he wants you to squirm more, remind you for whose pleasure you are here until even that does not seem to bother you anymore and your hips roll against his hand eagerly. He is sure, if he were to put his fingers on your clit again you would combust on the spot and as much as he would like to feel you cum, really feel that tight little hole clench and cream and make it his appetizer, he would  much rather feel you coming on his cock.

He cannot believe he is going to break your flower, soil it. He does not want to wait longer, cannot push himself further, needs it now. "Ya feelin' ready now, sweetheart?", like he will give a fuck.

Luckily for him, you nod, whining as he carefully pulls his fingers from you. No need to hurt you, yet. "'S my good girl, just breathe", and you mewl, as you feel your hole clenching around nothing, "I'll fill ya up nicely, don't fret." You suddenly feel very very empty and the urge to be filled up, to be stuffed by his cock and cum makes you go a little drunk with it, hands beating his to the fly of his pants.

Making quick work of the buttons you pull his trousers and undergarments down as much as possible, just enough to get his cock out - your mouth first waters and then goes powder dry in an instant. His dick slaps against his belly, long and girthy and cut with a prominent vein on the bottom, head an angry red and glistening with precum. It sits there, between a neatly trimmed bush of auburn hair and it is so so huge.

You open your mouth, struggling to find the words. "I-it won't fit", you stammer.

"'F course it will", he closes his hand around the thick base, and guides it between your legs, the tip nudging your clit and you gasp, "Don'tcha hurt ya pretty lil' head 'bout that." Arthur grabs your hips with one hand, holds you steady and up as he runs his cock along your folds, slicks it up with your juices, before pressing the thick head against your fluttering hole. His dick is unbearably hot against your pussy, and you whine, biting your lip.

"Just the tip, love, don't worry", he mumbles, lips pressed against your cheek, peppering the soft skin with kisses, stache tickling and then he presses his cock inside of you.

The thick head of his dick spreads your folds apart and then your hole stretches around it. It is so so much thicker and harder than his fingers, so much warmer and your hole clenches as he keeps pushing. The pain is dull and your eyes tear up. "There ya go", he nuzzles the tip of his nose against your cheek, whispers sweet nothings into your ear. There's one last stretch and then you feel the whole tip of his dick inside of you, your walls so snug around it you, you would be able to describe what it looks like just from feeling it inside of you.

"How's it feel?", he rasps, having a hard time containing himself. You are hot and wet around his tip and he really really wants to just push inside in one fluid motion and fuck you until your bleed and are unable to walk. To ruin you. Until there is nothing left on your pretty, little mind but him. But he knows better, knows that he will have to get you there slowly and steadily, so that you will come crawling back on all fours willingly. Forever.

"Ngh", you make, brows furrowed in concentration as you grab his shirt, steadying yourself. You had hoped, he would give you a minute longer to adjust, with your cunt clenching and stuttering around it, but he does not - instead he just keeps inching in. You whine, hand pushing against his shoulder. "H-hurts", your voice sounding pressed, "T-too fast, please, Sir."

A low chuckle escapes from his throat. "Love, that ain't me", he cups your cheek with one hand, looks at you. And Jesus fucking Christ, what a sight you are - pupils blown wide, eyes darkened and wet with tears. "You're jus' so fuckin' tight, you suck me in, sweetheart", and he really can't help himself but to marvel at how that feels. He can feel how your pussy protests the intrusion, tries to push him out, but instead it just makes your hole tighter, pulling him in.

"'S too much", and he nearly takes real pity in youas he leans in, and locks his lips with yours, while his hand forsakes your face and dives between your legs, rubbing wide circles over your clit.

Arthur lets gravity and your hungry pussy handle the rest, rubs your clit through every little millimetre that you sink down on his cock until he feels your muscles relaxing around him, swallowing him up.

That's when Arthur finally bottoms out, grabs you by the hips and seats you onto his cock fully, hisses just as a sweet, surprised moan escapes your lips.

"Yeah, that's fuckin' nice, ennit love?", he rasps, holds your hips steady as they quiver and shake on his cock. The stretch is delicious and so is the pain as he fills you up fully, thick base pushing your pussy apart like the heft of a sword.

"Uh-huh", you make dumbly, watching how your naked body is split on his cock, thighs rubbing along the thick wool of his dress pants.

"What a nice fuckin' tight snatch ya have, sweetheart", he groans, eyebrows furrowed together as he relishes in the feeling of your hole swallowing him whole, squeezing his cock.

"'ere, feel it", he grabs one of your hands and shoves between your legs, where your bodies are cojoined and his cock stretches your tight hole. He guides two fingers to the hot and thick base of his dick and you gasp, as you feel both: your wetness on him and the way he stretches the small ring of your muscles, the way you close around him snugly. "Wanna feel how I fuck ya?", he husks, and does not wait for an answer, pulls out of you just a little, only to push back in right after. You can feel the friction of his dick entering you, wetness pooling around the rim of your cunt as he forces himself inside. The sound that leaves your throat is wild, unbothered, high-pitched.

Your mouth is quicker than your brain, as all shame washes from you. "You feel so good", you breathe, and newly found confidence gets a hold of you, encourages you to lift your hips, before sinking back down. The burn of him stretching, moving inside of you, slowly subsides, gets replaced by feeling utterly full. You start to move in his lap, still a little unsure if you are doing it right, as you move your hips up and down. Small, desperate moans escape your mouth as you start to bounce on his dick slowly, hands on his chest. "There ya go", his hands rest on your waist, thumbs gently rubbing circles over your ribcage.

You take your time, hands clutching at his shirt and steadying themselves on his muscular, lean chest as you try to find your own rhythm. The movement of your hips is rigid at first, as you roll them down and Arthur really, really has to take deep breaths and not get annoyed because he knows, that this is ironically the best part of it all - when they do not know what to do, all helpless and cunts tight, whimpering with the overwhelming feeling of it all - and he does want to enjoy it, too. He watches you, angles his elbows on the backrest of the bench, let's you handle yourself first. He considers having another drink as you straighten your back and roll your hips just right for the very first time, a sweet sweet moan escaping your lips and he nearly bites his lip to hold his own back down because that - Jesus fucking Christ, that felt good.

You seem surprised, but he can also see how it makes you more confident, repeating the same movement your hips just made and another whine slips past your lips. Part of him grieves that you found it so quickly, part of him is intrigued what else lies buried inside of you and Arthur takes a deep breath, nods.

"Keep goin', love", he encourages you and you look at him, blushing, nodding. Your rhythm is slow and steady and you feel it becoming more and more pleasurable with every single time you thrust yourself down onto him, your muscles unclenching and letting his cock in deeper. There is warmth spreading inside of your body and you suddenly feel so so good, that you speed up all by yourself, something that his moaning quietly and --

It feels like your pussy is trying to push him out once more, but this time it is different, less forceful and much more of a desperate attempt to be closer closer closer to the delicious friction of his pubes rubbing along your clit, his dick slipping in and out of you. And then you feel wetness gushing from your cunt.

You gasp loudly, lips shaped in a perfect little O, a hand flying to your mouth. And Arthur laughs, a bellowing and rude sound that gets swallowed up by a lewd moan, that rasps darkly in his throat. "Yeah, 's my girl", his eyes twinkle as he looks you straight in the eye, "My cock makes ya feel real good, eh? "

The shame is back as it burns on your cheeks as you nod nod nod, lifting your hips once more to sink down onto him. It's so so easy this time with you being wetter than before, and you hum gleefully at the sensation, immediately picking up a quicker rhythm.

It all feels so heavenly: sinking down onto him, your lower body rubbing along his, clit being nudged ever so gently by his pubes, his hands on your body. Eventually, he lets them travel a bit when he deems you ready for it, cups your tit and rolls your nipple with his thumb. "'Y got such nice tits, love", and he really seems to marvel at the sight, while pleasure ping-pongs through your body at the touch. You feel like you could do this forever, sit on his cock, and ride him to feel this good just once more, but your body strains soon, legs growing heavy and your hips start to burn from the steady movement.

Arthur can feel you stuttering, your hips growing heavy but he is nowhere near coming and he really cannot have you stopping now, so he decides to play it nice. "Need help, love?", and you whine so prettily that it sweeps the rug underneath him, his hands leaving your tits, dancing over your body and grabbing your ass instead, lifting you up before sinking you back down.

Soon, the small snug is filled with lewd noises: skin hitting skin, the obscene squelching of your cunt as Arthur plunges his cock into you, sweet sweet gasps falling from your mouth, mingling with his groans and heavy panting. Arthur angles your hips on his dick - as if he had done this a hundred times with you before - guides you up and down up and down aiding you with your own already fast rhythm. Your legs and hips strain from being spread on his lap, from working in overtime as you ride him but the way he feels inside of you drowns the painful pull of your muscles and strings out, leaves you wanting for more.

And Arthur - oh, Arthur feels everything, all at once. Hears his own blood thundering in his ears, smells your perfume mingling with the scent of your arousal, thickly sweet and heavy, and his chin churns, teeth grinding like he just a fat fucking line of coke. Arthur feels it all - the tremor his pulse sends through his body, the way your pussy grips his cock, the whiskey rushing through his veins, his chest fluttering. There's just as much adrenaline rushing through his body as there is when he kills a man - it's all the same to him, really - and he feels like he is going to pass out from it.

The desperate, high-pitched moans that fall from your lips have him reeling on the edge, spurring him on while his fingers dig deep into your hips.

A part of him, somewhere buried deep inside his skull in the farthest corners of his mind, wishes for things to be different. For you to have met him differently, for him to be a different man. To be gentler, and to mean it. If he were someone else, he would be soft and take his time, share the plethora of pleasure he has to offer with you until sunrise. He would hold you close, rest your body on expensive sheets and touch you all over.

But he is not. And thus, he shuns regret, locks it away, hooks one arm around your waist instead and presses you to his chest as his hip piston into you, cock digging deep and against your cervix, brushing against the spot that has you seeing stars repeatedly.

And that has you moaning his name, falling from your lips like a mantra, nearly exploding with pleasure. It's all too much and you aren't certain if your body can even take it all. You feel like dying. You feel so so alive. Every single one of your nerves is on fire, and you cling onto him for leverage until it isn't enough anymore. Lust shoots through your body, fills you out wholly and makes you feel so so so good and you just must give it more room, really really feel it and one of your hands darts up as you stretch your arm above your head, hand falling flat onto the wall. And Arthur looks up at you through hooded eyes as if he had been summoned, takes you in: the way your head tilts back just a little, exposes your flushed throat and cheeks, your eyes closed and lips parted, panting heavily. Your tits bounce with every single one of his thrusts as you start to meet them too, fucking back onto them.

He has never seen anything quite like it. Truly, never. You are better than any fucking prostitute, with your earnest moans and seeping wet cunt.

Arthur cranes his neck and latches onto the crook of yours, licking, biting, and tasting your sweat and the pulse beneath your soft skin, surely leaving you with a nasty beard burn. One of his hand snakes between your legs and his fore and ring finger tip against your clit, making you moan brightly, loud and clear. He starts rubbing small, fast circles over it, flicks it between his fingers and you cannot stop yourself - moaning and gasping in rhythym with his thrusts, as you feel your lower body clenching, an unknown and forceful heat boiling inside of you. And Arthur knows you're close. He can feel it too,

"Yeah, 's it love. Fuckin' come f'me, you whore. There ya go, milk me cock like the dir'y lil' --", and you nearly scream as you finally, finally do, after he speeds his fingers up, sounds of your wet cunt filling the air - before you are convulsing around him heavily, legs shaking and cunt squirting against his cock forcefully.

And that's all he needs, too. Feels you practically forcing his cum out of him and you whine loudly as he pumps you full with hot ropes of cum, shoots the deep into your hole, hits your walls with it.

"Ah, fuck", he throws his head back, cheeks flushed and his hips rock up up up, ramming his cock deep in your tight hole as he comes, fucks his cum into you, making your pussy squelch obscenely. You cling onto him for dear life, hands gripping his shirt, while sweet sweet moans fall from your lips as you ride out your own orgasm on his dick.

Collapsing against him, his hips continue to rut upwards into you, until Arthur is all spent, his breathing going heavy and noisily, mingling with your gasping.

Your surroundings get drowned out by the waves of pleasure that shoot through your body, making you light-headed, content, and tired. You feel worn out, but your nerves are on fire, your brain rapid-firing the floating sensation of bliss through your system. It takes you a while to come down back to Earth.

As you do, you are naked in his arms, chest heaving and legs shaking, as you bury your face in his neck inhaling his thick perfume. Your body feels light, limbs a little numb and he runs his hands over your back tenderly, easing the feeling back into you. You can hear his heart beating and the sound lulls you in, a delusory closeness erupting a warm fondness inside of you, that has your belly fluttering. There is still cum trickling out of you, running down your folds and your thighs, while he still plugs your hole up with his softening dick and you feel like you could stay like this forever, listening to his heartbeat and breathing, body comfortably resting against his, his warmth keeping you safe from the world outside.

You think that his cock should probably grow flaccid soon; but he does not, instead Arthur stays buried inside of you, grabs your face with one hand forcing you to look at him. He grins, flashing his incisors at you. "Look at ya, hm", he laughs dryly, "Got ya all soft 'n fucked-out now, don't I?" And he knows that's exactly what he did, feels your puffy hot walls and swollen ring of muscles pressing snugly around his cock. You're hot and wet and gripping at him and he takes a deep breath, thumb caressing your chin. "Ain't ya a pretty thing", he murmurs, more to himself really, and his gaze drops down, to your tits before his free grabs a handful, squeezes your left one not that gently anymore, "Imma break you now, sweetheart."

A confused noise leaves your lips but you are still too far gone, too tired and worn out, as he suddenly yanks you back up and flips you around. Your body gets pressed onto the dirty and sticky surface of the table as he manhandles you, his already once more hardened cock slapping against your ass as he puts your body in position on the table, and -- there it is again. The gun. Rest there, right in your line of sight. It just lays there, hammer pulled back. Arthur notices you staring at it as he positions your body, pulls your ass up up up, until your upper body lies flat on the wooden surface and you are standing on your tip of your toes, his cum tickling down your thighs. "Don't worry - If someone disturbs us, love, I'll kill'em", and you do not even doubt him. You doubt yourself - with the way your body reacts to this. Shivers run down your arms, your back, fresh wetness pooling between your legs. You wonder, how he looks when he kills someone.

"Or", his lips brush over your ear, voice nothing but a low, rough whisper that vibrates in your body, makes your blood sing, "You could 'ave a try at it. Jus' fire it, see what it does - see if you hit'em." He says, as he rubs his hard cock rubs along your folds, runs it through your slick and his cum that still runs out of your already sore hole.

You cannot help but imagine it. How Arthur just pulls your head back, hand in your hair as the door of the snug bursts open - some guy coming inside but you are so so close to coming and your hand reaches for the gun blindly, points, shoots, hits. Red blooms on the golden tapestry behind the dropping body.

"It's easy", he rumbles and so you have heard. What comes after isn't.

You shake your head, but it is not as certain as you wish it to be. "No?", he presses a kiss onto your neck, tip of his cock prodding your entrance, "D'you not feel ready, yet? Mh, 's alright. We have time." And with that he pushes inside of you in one swift motion - like he usually does, not that careful A-Woman-Is-Like-Fine-China-Shit he pulled earlier.

You tremble beneath him, gasping at the sudden intrusion and the feeling of it: how it stretches your abused hole that flutters open inviting him in, your sensitive skin prickling and body aching. Arthur doesn't waste any time, immediately starts fucking you with pointed, deep thrusts that send you reeling already, moaning sweetly for him.

He can feel your ass pressing against his groin, wet sounds of his skin hitting yours already filling the air, with his balls slapping against your wet wet cunt. This is it. This is what he needs you to be like for him - spread out, stretched enough to just take him like this. And you are so inexperienced that you don't even know how to handle it, what to do; you just lay there, taking it all in, your sweet sweet hole ready for the taking and you are enjoying it. Enjoying what he has got to give, what he will take from you. Time and time again. Oh, he is going to keep you.

"Y're fuckin' perfect", he groans, runs one hand down your body, keeps himself upright, steady, and you mewl, eyes rolling back a little with the agonizingly slow pace he has set and --

A hand comes down on your ass - hard. You jolt violently, your hipbones connecting with the edge of the table quite forcefully, glasses clinking against the bottle.

"What d'ya fuckin' say then?"

Your head swims. Your breath falls short. Panic seeps through you and then the pain blooms. Blooms so deliciously that you arch your back into him, moaning so shamelessly that you are certain, somewhere around Birmingham, a cross falls from the wall.

Another sharp slap hits your ass cheek, as his hand connects with it hard.

"I said", his voice is nothing but a gravelly, threatening rumble and you can imagine him clearly, grabbing someone by the lapels before beating their brains to a pulp, until it runs it out their ears a liquid, "What d'ya fuckin' say, you slut?"

"T-thank you, Sir", you whine and he rewards you with another deep thrust that hits the spot just right. "Good girl", he growls, before giving your another light slap, just for good measure, puts both hand flat onto the sticky table right next to your chest. He towers over you like this, head falling forward and strands of hair falling into his face as he speeds up. Rams his cock into you, once twice, with full force and then sets a quick and deep pace, that has him grunting with it.

His cock is dragging along your puffy, sensitive walls and you cannot, for the Love of God, form a straight sentence. All that leaves you mouth is incoherent babbling, as your breath grows shorter and shorter, pleasure pooling in your stomach. Your lips parted, you swear you hear yourself muttering Oh God Oh God Oh God over and over and over again as he pumps his cock into you and your eyes roll back into your skull.

You think you're drooling. No, you definitely are, a small pool of your warm wet saliva gathering at the corner of your mouth, the sheer force of his thrusts dragging your up and down up and down over the table, rubbing your chin through your spit.

"You're mine", he rasps, the glasses on the table shaking and clinking against each other, the table creaaaking along the floorboards, "No one else is gonna have ya, understood?"

"Uh-huh", you make unintelligently, parting your legs for him even more. He groans, as he glides in a little deeper and you do too, as he hits your cervix.

"Ya belong t'me now - I might jus' keep ya around. Would ya like tha'?", he gives your ass another sharp slap, that echoes off the walls of the snug and grabs a fistful of your right cheek, "Bet ya fuckin' would. Jus' keepin' ya with me, takin' ya everywhere I fuckin' go." He grunts, hand leaving your ass to brush a few strands of hair from his forehead that came loose. His scab popped and there is fresh blood running down his forehead, down down down his cheekbone, trickling over his cheek.

"Fuckin' keeping ya 'round naked while I do me fuckin' business, 'n you're jus' there waitin' for me to bend you over the fuckin' table when I please", Arthur's hand presses down between your shoulder blades, deepens the arch he has put your back into already, "Have ya kneeling there, shovin' me cock down your throat when I fuckin' need ya to shut up."

You do not even have to close your eyes, in order to see it on front of your mind's eye: You on your knees in front of him. His hand tangled in your hair, balling into a fist and yanking you forward towards his cock, already leaking and flushed red. Him forcing himself down your throat in the middle of the betting shop, that hums around you like a beehive, while you suck him off. You, on his lap, warming his cock during a meeting in a fancy hotel across the Atlantic. Bouncing on his dick while the other men present marvel at how he trained you so well.

You think you might be begging for him to do exactly that right now - mind and body engulfed in the way Arthur's cock fills you up to the brim, fits inside of you perfectly - unable to resist the onslaught of pleasure he hits you with, as you babble unintelligently. It soon becomes too much, the constant friction against your spongy walls and the tight muscles of your hole, how his dick thrusts against the spot that has you seeing stars repeatedly. Your vision blurs and you shiver, as your limbs go soft, the only sensation in your body that remains is how he fucks you, how his hand presses you down.

All you can feel is him, barely realizing how much you are losing yourself in the friction, the smell, the pleasure: everything becomes so so blurry and the colours soften, the petrol lamps twinkling like stars --

Arthur groans deeply, hand gripping your hair and yanking your head up. "Is you bawlin', sweetheart?", his voice drips with patronizing sarcasm, making clear that he doesn't give a dime. And you are. Hot tears stream down your face, from it all: the sheer overstimulation and the burning pain in your back from the arch he put you into as well as the ruthless pace he drills into you with, leaves your hole sore and cunt dripping.

"Keep that up - noise fuckin' suits ya", Arthur huffs, "My pretty lil' girl."

And then he starts to rut into you like the depraved and rabid dog he is, lewd noises of your wet skin meeting his balls and the skin of his thighs - not quite the animal he usually is with fists, bruises, and razor blades, but the other: with fine Tokyo, booze and sweat. He feels himself getting lost, a red haze filling his sight as he plunges into your tight and begging hole.

Arthur's gaze drops to your face once more and he takes you in, observes how he ruins you, reduces you to your most primal sense like you never ever were a lady strolling down Picadilly but always just a cock-drunk little whore who liked being thrown around by a violent thug - your cheeks dotted prettily with red from exhaustion and wet with your tears, chin shining with your own spit. "Sweetheart", he coos, leans in and turns your head around to him as much as possible. The strain in your neck is so so painful but being able to look at him is worth it, the sight making your pussy clench. There is blood dripping down his face, his eyes are dark dark dark and brows furrowed. "If ya liked spit, ya could've just said so", he rasps and then his hand leaves the back of your skull, grips your chin hard and forces your mouth open.

"Good, jus' like tha', open up", Arthur says, mouth a cruel grin, before leaning in as he spits into your fucking mouth. His saliva is warm as it hits your tongue and it tastes of whiskey and cigars and the way he degrades you is so sick but so so good, that your eyes roll back in your skull, hips bucking against him.

"Bloody fuckin' hell", he breathes, lips parted a little as he sucks in breath after breath, watching you swallowing his spit and licking your lips, your tongue darting out right after. His hips stutter and your whole body yerks forward with the force of it, hands clawing at the table uselessly.

"Fuck, knew ya'd like that", he nearly laughs, but it gets stuck in his throat, comes out as a strangled groan. And then he gathers some more of his saliva, does you the favour, slooowly lets it drip from his lips onto your tongue, his gaze glued to yours as he ruts ruts ruts into you. The table creaks beneath you and you hum, licking the spit from his lips, swallowing it all.

"A-arthur", you breathe, not able to communicate much more, "'S good -- please."

Your head connects with the wooden table forcefully as his hand grabs your neck, presses you down and pain blooms in your skull, shoots right down between your legs. "You fuckin' dirty fuckin' slut fuckin' --", he grunts, grabs one of your legs and yanks it up, shoves your knee onto the table. Your whole body aches, you are dizzy and there is such a pleasure coiling in your lower belly, you feel like you might just die. Like your head's going to explode. The angle of your leg lets him slide in deeper and he holds you down like this: one hand on the base of your skull, the other digging into your thigh sharply.

And this time you do scream; his name falling from your lips like a dirty fucking prayer - Arthur Arthur Arthur - as he holds you down, legs shaking and hips bucking, cunt squirting against him like a broken hose. Your juices make a mess out of his trousers and his shirt, leave stains all over them as he fucks your wetness back into you.

You are nowhere near coming and yet you feel so so so close - just a whining moaning mess beneath him, skin sore and sensitive, your face wet with tears and spit and sweat as his thrusts drag your body through the filth of the table's surface. Everything is too much and too little just the same, leaves you wanting for more and absolutely flooded with lust.

Wailing, and in a desperate attempt to get his attention that you are so so close but not close enough, you lift your head, looking over your shoulder. Arthur looks up at you, from where he watched his cock ramming in and out of you. The sight knocks the air from your lungs: his hair is a sticky mess, darkened by sweat and blood, that runs down his cheek, stained his shirt and surely already dropped down onto your back; his throat and chest, at least where you can see with his shirt half unbuttoned, is flushed and he furrows his brows, lips slightly agape as he pants and grunts. And then he sinks down on his elbows, his chest pressing flush against your back, before he leans in, lock his lips with yours and fucks you into the table.

That is all you need. His tongue licks into your mouth and you fucking explode around him, cunt squeezing him so hard he feels like he is going to pass out and so do you, as your shaking rattles the table, while you cum, white filling your vision.

It does not take much longer for Arthur, who rails you through your orgasm, all soft and rigid moans against your lips, cheek, and ear, before he pumps you full with his cum, sinks down onto you after, while relishing the last few thrusts of his hips into your tight heat. His weight is heavy on top of you, as he barely supports himself with his lower arms planted onto the sticky wood, breathes heavily against your neck.

Eventually, Arthur straightens back up, you barely register it, too far gone. You close your eyes, drawing in shaky breaths as he wipes the blood and sweat of his face, reaches for the bottle. You hear him rummaging around behind you, the shuffling of clothes and his exhausted breathing, but you cannot focus on it. Your limbs are heavy and you just lay there, bliss wrapping your brain in making it all mushy and soft and you just feel. Your aching hole, your aching back, the dull pain in your head - the insane galloping of your heart that only slowly ebbs, the way your cunt feels empty and worn out now. And then you hear the bench behind you creaking, feel his hands on your hips as he lifts you from the table and into his lap again.

You sink against his chest, as one of his strong arms cradles your frame, pulling you close. Eyes falling shut once more, you just breathe, listening to the sound of his lighter clicking and him taking a few drags from a cigarette.

"You wan' a smoke, love?", he rumbles, nose brushing against the shell of your ear. Your heart still thunders in your chest and you crave tobacco, nodding. He gently grabs your chin and turns your head around, places the cigarette between your slightly parted lips while your eyelids flutter, gaze shifting from his calloused hands to his blue eyes. You can feel his cum trickling out of you and onto the bench.

His cheeks are still a little flushed, but his eyes gleam like he has just won a race.

"Same time, next week?", he whispers, moustache tickling your cheek.

[fairytoge]

sick and tired ; geto suguru

notes!!

missing my husband sm :( but!! with the end of jjk being about a week ago now, i thought i'd maybs begin writing again idk

also!! this is set in an au where geto doesn't defect bc i cannot be doing that rn 😭and it was written last minute so be kindddd plsplsplspls

but yesss!! i hope you enjoy it and sorry for the millionth time for not posting much lmao

m.list

"i hate this," geto mumbled from beneath the sheer amount of blankets you had piled on top of him. "i hate that you and satoru are still going on missions while i'm still... like this."

you were busying around geto's room, half listening to your boyfriend and half focusing on tidying up the uncared-for clothes and the piles of tissues that had begun to cascade around his bin. it had been just thirty minutes since you had entered the room, and he had continued to grumble and complain about being ill.

you understood! you truly, truly did! but after ten minutes and the unintelligible grievances from your boyfriend, along with the scratchiness of his throat, you were more sympathetic to his voice than to the fact he was forced to take a break from being a sorcerer.

"suguru." you sighed, your voice having a soft but noticeable edge to it. "i love you, so, so, so much..."

with those words, you settled the stack of clothes down on geto's desk and approached his bed. there, where he was lying under the mountain of pillows, blankets, and practically anything else that had some sort of comfort value, he gazed up at you — not unappreciative of the affection but knowing that you were about to say something else.

"... but please, please just accept that you're not gonna go on missions until you're better again. being sad and holding a grudge against your own body is a tad ridiculous, honey."

the room was silent for a long moment: geto clearly trying to find a way to respond to you as his mouth opened and closed a couple of times. it was, after another pause, that he finally shut his mouth, sharply squinting at you. "you're so lucky you're you, and not satoru."

raising an eyebrow, you squatted down to geto's bedside, humming in partial agreement. kissing your boyfriend's forehead, you smirked slightly. "sometimes i think you'd prefer me to be satoru."

little to say, the pillows you had previously piled on suguru quickly weighed down on you instead.

© fairytogeㅤ ꔫㅤ please do not copy, repost, translate, etc without my permission

[kamii-2]

omg!!! you should do a paige x softball player!reader fic where paige and the reader are in situationship and reader wants to make things official and paige doesn’t fully know what she wants until it’s like one of readers big games and paige is there in readers jersey and asks her after they win!

i read your kk hcs and saw the a/n and was like omg i love that bc 1)i’m a softball player 2)i love paige sm!

hi anon! i love this idea so much but im gonna change it up (i dont like the idea of paige wearing readers jersey but i like everything else) sorry if its nothing how you wanted it, if you want me to redo it just ask :) !!

warning(s): none (surprisingly)

genre: fluff

pairing(s): paige bueckers x softball player!reader

not proofread (i keep forgetting to add this 😭)

==================================

today was senior night and one of the most important softball games, paige and a few of your other friends were coming as well. you and her had been messing around for a few months now and you were starting to fall deep in love with her.

everything about her made you feel weak in the knees. her smile, her voice, the way she treats you, everything.

-

it was and hour and 30 minutes before the game and you were in your off-campus apartment getting ready. you were putting all of your things in your bag when you got a facetime call from paige. you answered and propped your phone up on the desk in your room, continuing to shove things in your softball bag. “hey.” she said with the phone set up in kk’s room somewhere. “hi.” you say back, “why’d you call?” you asked her. “to tell you that ice and kk are coming with me.” she answered, you smiled and said “okay, well i have to go get dressed so i’ll talk to you later. bye!” you said before hanging up.

you walked over to the uniform sprawled all over your bed and put it on. after you put it on you went in the bathroom and put your hair in a low ponytail. when you were done you put on some slides, grabbed your phone and keys, then went to your car to head to the field.

-

when you got to the field the game was starting in an hour and 13 minutes. the field was ready and most of your teammates were there. “hey y/n.” one of your teammates said as you walked in the dugout. “hi.” you said with a smile and clipped your bag to the fence, grabbing your cleats out and sitting on the bench to put them on. “are you ready for senior night?” another teammate asked you while sitting down next to you, “yes but i’m gonna miss you guys.” you said in a sad-ish tone.

after you got your shoes on, you talked with your teammates and coaches till the other team arrived at 5:00. the game started at 6:00 so this gave both teams an hour to practice before it started. you got a catching partner and threw back and forth till your coach called you guys over to practice batting and fielding.

-

it was currently 5:55 and both teams were in the dugout waiting for the game to start. when paige, kk, and ice got there you came out the dugout and said hi and giving them each a hug then going back in.

since you guys are home team you’re in the field first. you waited for coach to you where to go, “y/n, you’re gonna pitch.” he told you, you nodded and put your glove and face mask on.

you got some practice pitches in and the in and out fielders threw a ball around. at 6:00 the first batter walked up and got ready, you pitched right down the middle, she she swung and it went straight to you. you caught it and she was out.

-

in was now the last inning and you were on third base. your teammate had one more strike before she was out and you guys lost. the pitcher pitched a perfect pitch and your teammate swung, it went in between second and first and you ran to home. the pitcher had the ball when you about to be at home so you slid and the pitcher tripped and landed on you really hard, her face mask flew off her face.

you were safe but your hips hurt really bad and you were gonna be bruised and hurting worse for sure tomorrow. besides everything that jsut happened, you sat up after the other girl got up and cheered, winning one of the most important games of the season.

-

you were in the dugout sitting on the bench with your head thrown back, when ice and kk came in. “where’s paige?” you asked as they sat next to you. “she had to go back to her dorm real quick but she’ll be back in a little bit.” kk said. “i bet your hips hurt.” ice said while looking at you. “they do and bad but it’s fine it’ll go away.” you said while standing up, wincing in pain.

they got up and walked out the dugout while you put your stuff in your bag and said bye to them. now it was time for senior night.

“first up we have y/n l/n, she can play any position and is one of your best pitchers. despite being super clumsy and somewhat reckless, she’s one of our best players.” the coach looked over at you and you limped over to her, stand next to her at the pitching mound. “now on to her stats.” she said as she flipped to a page full of numbers, “she has played all 20 games we’ve been in so far, batted 28 times, struck out twice, hit by pitch 6 times, got on base by hitting 16 times, and got on base by balls 4 times. her highlights of the season are hitting 3 home runs, 1 grand slam, and been the winning runner 4, now 5, times.” your coach informed everyone while you stood next to her smiling super big. “y/n is a great player and i’m gonna miss her when she leaves.” your coach was tearing up and she turned to you and gave you a big hug, and you returned it, starting to cry too.

your turn was done so you walked back into the dugout being hugged by everyone and staying for everyone else’s turn.

-

it was 9:04 and you were walking out the dugout going to find paige and her friends. they were standing by the bleachers talking, “hey guys.” you said to them and they went up to you and said hi and gave you guys and were talking about the game. “are your hips okay?” paige asked you, “they hurt alot but it’ll go away eventually.” you said while placing your heavy bag on the ground.

“well me and kk are gonna go back to our dorm, our uber is here.” ice said and she game you one last hug before walking away, kk giving you a hug and leaving.

“y/n i have a question for you and something for you in my car.” paige said as she grabbed your hands. “what is it?” you asked her. “y/n l/n will you please be my girlfriend?” said asked with a smile and grabbing your waist softly so she didn’t hurt you. “yes, yes i will!” you said as you gave her a kiss.

she kissed back then quickly pulled away. “i have a big as basket full of stuff for you. i had nika and azzi help me pick out things for it.” she said as she held your hand started to walk. you grabbed your bag and followed her, “im excited to see it.” you replied as she took you to her car to get the basket. she opened the car door and handed the basket to you.

“thank you so much p.” you said to her giving the taller girl a kiss. “you’re welcome baby, ill see you tomorrow.” she smiled and got in her car to leave.

==================================

sorry if this sucks 😭 but anyway i hope you enjoy, have a good day/night, love you 💋💋

[xoxochb]

Hii, I really love your writings like sm and i saw you do a request from someone that was based from “the alchemy” by Taylor swift so I was wondering if you could do a percy jackson x reader or fem!reader but now like base on “you are in love” by Taylor swift?

Like at the start the reader and percy are js bsf at first, then percy confessed his feelings, but the reader is scared of commitment bc of like (perhaps seeing reader’s own father cheat and like seeing people dear to her get heartbroken and she’s scared she will experience the same) and stuff

but still gives percy a chance (so it’s the “for once you let go of your fears and ghosts, one step not much but it said enough” part of the song) and our boy proves that he will never do anything that will hurt reader and loves her like so so much (“you kiss on side walks you fight, then you talk. One night he wakes, a strange look on his face. Pause, then says ‘you’re my bestfriend’ and u knew what it was he is in love” part LIKE YK JS ANY CUTE STUFF and like maybe at that part percy says how much he loves the reader and everything🤭) Just percy being the perfect best boyfriend ever honestly and change stuff if you can or want to make this better!!:)

If this is too much I totally understand and you can ignore this but I really hope you do this request 😭💗

⋆·˚ ༘ * you are in love, true love

warnings: none

pairing: percy jackson x fem reader

you were scared to say the least. it may be because your best friend percy jackson is giving you a strange look, or perhaps because he is standing insanely close to you, you’re unsure, all you know it that you’re horrified

“y/n” he states

“that’s my name” you joke, trying to ease the tension

he laughs lightly, “you’re my best friend”

oh gods you know what this is- but it can’t be, this can’t happen.

you avert your eyes to the ground, then take a glance at your dirty converse. you know what he’s trying to say but you choose to act like you don’t

“I am” is the only thing you can think to say

“that’s not what I mean” he takes your hands in his, and you’re eyes now move to your intertwined hands

you don’t say anything, instead just let him elaborate so you can see if your suspicions are correct

the next three words he says shock you- they’re something you never thought about hearing, something you’ve sworn off after you spent countless nights comforting a heartbroken friend, sobs being the only thing heard in the room

‘I love you’ is what he says

you force yourself to pretend that’s not what he said, but your pounding heart gives it away. you wanted to hear this, you did, but you knew it was for the better if you pushed it away, trying to save yourself from a broken heart

but you love him, you really do, and it hurts you to see him with such a sad look on his face when you don’t reply

“I love you percy” you whisper “but I don’t know if I can do this”

now he’s the one who goes quiet. you know that he knows about your commitment issues, he had even prepared himself for you to turn him down once he confessed his feelings, but he still can’t help but feel disappointed in himself for thinking even a little bit that you would accept his confession of love

“oh” is all he says

you frown at his saddened demeanor “I’m just scared”

“y/n/n, I don’t want to seem desperate, but I really love you, and I promise, I swear it on the river styx I will never do anything to hurt you. I don’t know if that’s enough for you to fully believe me, but I do mean it. Nothing on this earth could make me ever even think of doing anything to harm you in any way, and if some day I was ever to do any harm to you I will allow you to brutally murder me” he says the last part with a laugh before continuing, “but I just don’t think I could ever live without seeing you ever day, you mean a lot to me”

oh how could you say no to him? was a boy really worth a broken heart though? maybe not a boy, no, but percy jackson- your percy jackson, the one that always protected you, the one that never did hurt you in all of the years you knew him, the one that had quite literally killed for you. you knew that he held your heart since the day you met, and you also knew that he would never drop it, but instead intertwine it with his own, two souls bound together for eternity

you look up and take a last glance into his sea green eyes before pulling him in for a kiss, and it was one you wouldn’t trade for the world

[amalythea]

「 but does he really know me when the lights are on? 」

⤷ info: diluc & childe x gn!reader (separate) || angsty fic hehe || wc: 544 & 461 respectively

⤷ warnings: diluc n childe are a tad bit neglectful of their lovers bc theyre busy, mentions of childe's real name (does this even count as a warning), i tried to make this extra angsty as a treat for you guys <3

⤷ extra: i used the prompt i. “but does he really know me when the lights are on?” from @thexianzhoujade 's personal memoires (of the dearly beloved) event!! thank you so much to @mei-sm for proofreading!!

diluc.

As the owner of the renowned Dawn Winery, your lover's days were consumed by the meticulous tasks of wine-making and managing the estate. Diluc was a man of dedication, his every waking moment dedicated to upholding his family's legacy.

But amidst the clinking of glasses and the rustle of grapevines, there existed a longing within Diluc—a longing for companionship, for someone to share his burdens and his joys. It was in the quiet moments of the night, as he gazed out over the vineyards, that this longing weighed heaviest upon him.

Then, amidst the chaos of his busy life, you came into his world like a breath of fresh air. You who seemed to understand Diluc in a way no one else could. Your encounters were fleeting yet profound, each stolen moment leaving Diluc yearning for more.

Despite his limited time, Diluc cherished every second he spent with you. He memorized the curve of your smile, the sound of your laughter, the way your eyes sparkled in the moonlight. In his mind, he constructed an image of you—a flawless portrait of a person he believed he knew inside and out.

But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Diluc's time grew ever scarcer. His duties at the winery demanded more of him, leaving little room for anything else. Yet, in the rare moments you shared, Diluc clung to the illusion of intimacy he had built in his mind.

One evening, as you sat together beneath the stars, your voice broke the silence. "Diluc," you said softly, your gaze searching his face, "do you truly believe you know me?"

Caught off guard by your question, Diluc faltered. "Of course, I do," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I know you better than anyone."

But your eyes held a sadness he had not seen before. "But do you?" you murmured, your words hanging heavy in the air. "Do you know the dreams I keep hidden in the depths of my heart? Do you know the fears that haunt me in the darkness of night?"

Diluc felt a pang of guilt deep within him. Despite his love for you, he realized that his knowledge of you was only surface-deep. He knew your smile, your laughter, your outward demeanor—but the depths of your soul remained a mystery to him.

In that moment, the realization hit him like a sudden gust of wind. Despite his best intentions, despite his unwavering devotion, he had failed to truly know the one he loved. And as he looked into your eyes, he saw the truth reflected back at him—the heartbreaking realization that your connection was built on a foundation of illusion.

Tears welled in your eyes as you rose to your feet, your voice barely above a whisper. "I wish things were different, Diluc," you whispered, your words heavy with sorrow. "But I fear that we are destined to remain strangers, even as lovers."

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Diluc alone beneath the stars, his heart heavy with regret. For in that moment, he knew that despite his best efforts, he had let the one he loved slip through his fingers, never truly knowing you as he had believed.

childe.

In the heart of Liyue Harbor, beneath the grandeur of the illuminated archways and amidst the bustling streets, Childe found himself entangled in the mess of his own making. The weight of his duties pressed upon him like a leaden cloak, consuming his days and nights in a relentless pursuit of power and influence. Amidst the political machinations and secret dealings, there was but one respite for him – the presence of his lover.

Your relationship was an affair hidden behind veils of secrecy and deception. Childe reveled in the moments stolen away from the prying eyes of the world, where he could lose himself in the warmth of your embrace. Yet, even in your most intimate moments, there lingered an unspoken question, a whisper of doubt that haunted your thoughts.

Despite his professed affection, Childe remained a stranger in many ways, his mind consumed by the ceaseless demands of his position within the Fatui. He spoke in riddles, his words veiled in ambiguity, leaving you to decipher the depths of his intentions.

As the nights grew longer and the shadows darker, you found peace in the silence between you, a quiet refuge from the chaos of your intertwined lives. But beneath the facade of understanding, doubts festered, like seeds sown in barren soil, their roots entwined with the fragile threads of your bond.

One night, as the city slept beneath a blanket of stars, your doubts could no longer be silenced. With tears glistening in your eyes, you uttered the words that had long lingered unspoken between the two of you.

"Do you truly know me, Ajax?" you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath upon the wind. "Or do you see only the shadows of who I am, cast by the light of your own desires?"

For a moment, Childe was speechless, the weight of your words bearing down upon him like a crushing weight. In the silence that followed, he searched your eyes for answers, but found only the reflection of his own uncertainty staring back at him.

"I... I thought I knew you," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the gentle rustle of the night breeze. "But perhaps... perhaps I was mistaken."

With those words, the fragile bonds that held you together shattered like glass, leaving nothing but shards of regret in their wake. In the cold light of dawn, you turned away, leaving Childe to face the emptiness of his own solitude.

Alone amidst the ruins of your shattered love, Childe found himself haunted by the echoes of your parting words. In the depths of his heart, he knew that he had lost more than just a lover – he had lost a piece of himself, forever hidden in the shadows of what might have been.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

@amalythea 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

[pumpkinsy0]

U got any curtis gang new yrs hcs??

unfortunately they wont leave my mind, so yes i do

•look im basing this off of me cause its sm fun to do, but when its nearing 12am, pony likes to put on a song that he RLLY liked that year, like its carrying him into the new year, its comforting!!! usually near that time u wont find him in the living room, but alone either outside or in his room

•soda gets suupperrr sentimental, hes the friend going around telling u how much u meant to him that year, he has NOOOO shame about it, hes a lover what can he say

•dallas doesnt attend their new years party, believe it or not hes not the HUGEST fan of parties he never stays for the full amount of one, if he does go to the house, he stays for 30 minutes before running away and the gang doesnt see him till the 3rd of january, nobody knows what he does or goes, but he always comes back so its whatever

•johnny and pony have a thing where they either fistbump at midnight or blow those party horns at each others face!! they would always bet on who would get a midnight kiss bonus money if they guessed who it would b w

•YES, steve and soda have been each others midnight kiss btw, u could take this as romantic or not bc it was never on the lips, only like forehead or something “as a joke”🙄

•i dont think steve is that much of a party animal, at least for a new years party, he has a habit of going outside, watching illegal fireworks that really should classify as bombs while thinking about his life and throwing party snaps on the ground, then going back inside to live it up so he doesnt get too sad blah blah blah repeat. he gives the rest of the party snaps to pony and johnny

•the curtis gang will leave up christmas decorations for MONTHS, they dont rlly buy new decorations. two bit however loves to take the mistletoe down to put it in a new place and annoy surprise everyone by screaming whos under it

•the gang wuestion dally on the times square ball drop a lot, hes went ONCE and will always rant about how stupid and annoying it is, he says its like top 3 worst new years ever bc of how cramped it was but the gang will notttt believe him, they think hes just being grumpy

•u can expect to hear allllll of darrys new years resolutions bc hes making some for himself AND the gang, u leave trash on the floor and he passive aggressively suggest a new years resolution for u to throw it out😭ill tell u what tho he follows through on his resolutions for the most part u gotta commend him

•when i think of johnny and new years i think of tyler the creator being upset that he was making a stupid ass sandwich into the new year

•alternatively when i think of two bit and new years i think of camilla cabeo??? i think it was???? and her tweets for new hears where shes like “i havent showered since last year” and she was doing it consecutively each new years

•mrs curtis made this tradition to take a new years picture each new years and the gang WILL keep that alive!!! they choose one person from the gang to keep the photo forevveerrr and everrrrr

•the gang also makes a time capsule!! this was something they didnwhen they were wayyy younger but some of the gang still make it, althought there is this one time capsule literally EVERYONE forgot where it was buried so its just somewhere chillin in the backyard</33

•do u guys think they would drive over to the curtis parents’ graves and hang w em for a bit, pouring alcohol and soda to commemorate em,,,i think so,,,,theyd do the same for dally and johnny

[natsgrave]

TOLERATE IT | elizabeth olsen

while you were out building other worlds, where was i? you assume i'm fine, but what would you do if i break free and leave us in ruins? ( story inspired by @taylorswift song bcs i love her sm ) i'm not sure if someone else already wrote something like this or what, but if you see a story quite similar to this, let me know so i could give them a proper credit. thankyou!! ( colored wording would be the lyrics ) i do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other sites. plagiarism is a crime!! masterlist whispers of heartache m.list

Y/N'S POV Lizzie and I had been together for five years. We met in college, fell deeply in love, and spent countless nights talking about our dreams and aspirations. We were each other's rock, supporting each other through thick and thin.

But how can a perfect relationship turn into a toxic one where we barely talk anymore?

I sit and watch you reading with your head low

I don't know what happened. I don't know how to fix it, it that I didn't even know exist. One second we were fine then the next, we're like strangers.

All I could do is sit here and watch her read the script for her new movie. Reading with her head low and sitting far away from me, almost as if I have a disease. As if there's an invisible wall between us.

We would always sit in silence, her pretending to watch TV or read books, but the tension between us was palpable. I know she could feel my eyes on her, but she never spared me a glance. It was as if she was avoiding me intentionally.

Minutes ticked by, and I decided to make her food. After making anchovy, I gently touch her on the shoulder. She jumped, startled, and looked up to find me standing next to her, holding out a plate.

"I made you your favorite," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Anchovy toast."

Lizzie took the plate from my hand, "Thank you." she replied before looking back at the script once again.

I simply nodded and sat down where I originally sitting, and focused on my own hands folded in my lap with a sigh.

I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes close. I sit and watch you, I notice everything you do or don't do, you're so much older and wiser

I woke up around five in the morning, the sun hadn't completely risen yet, but the little lighting shone through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. My gaze fell upon my girlfriend, who lay beside me sleeping lightly. The rise and fall of her chest matched the rhythm of her breathing, a calming sight that used to bring me comfort.

As I lay in bed, I couldn't help but watch my partner, Lizzie, sleeping peacefully beside me. I stayed there, watching her for a moment and appreciate the sight before me. But despite the serenity of the scene, I still felt a pang of sadness in my heart.

Lizzie had always been a restless sleeper, constantly shifting positions throughout the night and sometimes even talking in her sleep. But tonight, she was lying completely still, her face calm and relaxed. If someone saw it, they would instantly let it go and think that she's in a deep slumber but I'm not just someone.

I know the truth.

She was pretending to be asleep and it felt like she didn't want to wake up beside me, like she is simply tolerating my presence.

I wait by the door like I'm just a kid, use my best colors for your portrait

They were small things I did for her, but meaningful nonetheless. Always wait by the door every day to greet her, to offer and show her some love and comfort after a hard day at work. I would always stand there, gazing out into the evening sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of my lover making her way home from work. It didn't matter what time it was, or how tired I am after a long day, I always made sure to be there, waiting for Lizzie.

I even took painting classes as it seemed to ease my mind. I poured all of my emotions into my painting, using every color in the palette to capture the beauty of Lizzie's face. I spent hours each day working on the portrait, trying to convey the depth of my feelings for her and I'd use my best colors for her portraits.

Lay the table with the fancy shit, and watch you tolerate it

I had always been a perfectionist when it comes to cooking and entertaining. I would always spent hours in the kitchen, preparing elaborate meals and setting beautiful tables for my lover. I would carefully select the finest ingredients, meticulously prepare each dish, and arrange the table with exquisite linens, flowers, and candles.

I'd make her favorite dishes, lay the table with best cutlery and yet again, no matter how hard I tried, she never seemed to appreciate my efforts. All Lizzie gave back were strained smiles, small and almost whispered hums, and nods in acknowledgment of my attempts, and a whisper of "thanks," as she shoveled the food into her mouth, barely taking the time to taste or savor any of it.

she seemed to simply… tolerate it.

If it's all in my head tell me now, tell me I've got it wrong somehow

Despite my best efforts to communicate openly and honestly with Lizzie, I felt like she wasn't really listening to me, and it made me feel invisible. I began to wonder if I was overthinking everything, if maybe I was the one who was misinterpreting our interactions. Maybe I was being too sensitive, too needy.

Maybe I was the one who was crazy, paranoid.

I felt so alone, so lost, and so unsure of what to do.

I know my love should be celebrated, but you tolerate it

I began to feel like I was living in a dream world where everything I created was invisible to everyone else. It was as if I was speaking a language that nobody understood, except for my own echoes in mind.

"Liz," I said with a trembling voice, "I've been giving everything I have to make you happy, but it feels like you don't see or appreciate it anymore. I feel taken for granted."

My choice of words caught her off guard, she paused for a moment before responding. "Y/N, I never asked you to do all these things for me. I don't need grand gestures to feel loved, I thought you knew that."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was this really what our relationship had become? A constant stream of argument and neglect?

Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized the disconnect between our expectations. I had been trying so hard to show her love in a way that I thought she would appreciate, but it had only pushed us further apart.

And it happen, I finally snapped.

I felt a surge of anger and frustration well up inside of me.

Why was I putting so much effort into something that seemed to bring her no joy? Why did I care so deeply about pleasing someone who didn't seem to care about me at all?

I knew, I couldn't keep living this way, constantly pouring my heart and soul into something that brought me nothing but pain and disappointment. I realized that no matter how much I gave, Lizzie would never truly reciprocate and still, I constantly yearn for someone who clearly did not want me.

With a heavy heart, I packed my bags. Our relationship had become toxic, with me constantly sacrificing myself for someone who didn't appreciate me. I knew it was time to leave, before I lost any more pieces of myself.

Before leaving, I took a one last look, the last thing I want to remember was the way Elizabeth used to laugh at my jokes, enjoy our food, take me out on dates. The last thing I want to remember was how she used to love my presence, and not just tolerate it.

Maybe one day someone would be enough to have their love celebrated by her.

[sheyfu]

pretty boy

𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛 you comfort a crying akaashi keiji

feat. post-timeskip akaashi keiji (wife!reader)

cw: ooc; kinda rushed AAAAAAAAA (i still dont know how to pace my stories i will cry); mentions of wanting to commit mass murder; proofread but not really

prompt. free write! i had sm fun w this NYEHEHEHEH (based on this req <33) note. self-indulgent; my second piece for @lia-loves's flufftober event! this is also for the anon who requested for akaashi's version of 'i love my man', which i orginally wrote as a piece for reo from bllk! if you'd like to check it out (shamless plug LAMSODMAD), you can click on the link^ tbh this is super rushed bc i dont know how to pace my stuff but we ball LMADAOMDS AND GANG IK THIS IS OOC BUT IM SOMEONE WHO BELIEVES AKAASHI'S NONCHALANT SKIBIDI RIZZLER AURA DISSIPATES (omg big word) IN FRON OF YOU yes. read for a banger 🙏 wc. 940 (and again.. lia... i know you said don't write an essay but... huheuueh)

contrary to popular belief, being an editor for a shonen manga magazine isn’t an easy job. yes, you get to laze around until your talent submits their work to you for further checking, but only if you knew how difficult it was to work with crammers, then you’d see the hell these editors go through each passing day.

the amount of pestering you’d have to do just to receive mediocre pieces of art and an even-more-mediocre storyline that you can’t help but cry to (not that it’s unusable or course. it just needs a little (a lot) of revision :]), and the amount of times you’d have to apologize to the big bosses for the delay brings tears to the eyes of each and every editor.

personally, you’ve never experienced any of those hardships. your life as a legal practitioner is pretty smooth-sailing—save for the fact that some clients are a bit hard headed of course—but other than that, your life is a-okay!

and adding onto the fact that you’re happily wed to your husband of eight years, mr. akaashi keiji, you’d say you're pretty much content with life right now.

speaking of husband, is akaashi keiji happy with his life? definitely! a happy wife = happy life! 

and how about his work life? uhhhh, not so much.

“die die die die die die die”

the door to your apartment bursts open as a slumped figure walks in carelessly kicking his shoes in some corner of your little foyer. hearing the concerning amount of grumbles coming from your husband interrupt your little staring contest with the very demonic cat shaped cookies you decided to bake to pass time.

“keiji? you alright over there?” furrowing your eyebrows at the lack of response, you trudge to the living room to check up on your beloved.

“keiji? my love– what-”

only to see the biggest shocker of your life: a crying akaashi keiji.

now, keiji has cried a bunch of times in front of you; whether those tears have been from happiness or sadness, you’ve seen them all. you’ve also seen him go into little tantrums whenever he has his crying sessions; most of the time, these are due to his rather.. unruly clients. but no, tonight’s different. never in your life have you seen your akaashi keiji cry and be in hysterics at the same time.

“i can’t do this anymore!” continuous sobs rip out from the man in front of you—his bloodshot eyes being a telltale sign that he’s been crying even before he getting your shared apartment. 

oh dear..

upon reaching his knelt down form on the floor, you join him to litter his face with kisses. “hey now.. don’t cry please. i hate seeing you cry.” patting his head and engulfing him in a big hug, you continue to land kisses on his head.

only to be grabbed by the shoulders. “w- woah!”

“no, wife! i- i really can’t do it!” exasperated claims continuously spew out of his mouth—his cries seemingly getting worse and worse. “these… these vermins! they’re ruining my life! and that’s not even it! they also—”

comforting a crying husband on your chest isn’t part of your nightly routine. what also isn’t part of your routine is being gripped to death by said crying husband.

“i swear.. i swear to god, wife. i’ll actually throw my sketchbook at them the next time we meet.” keiji’s hoarse voice sounds from your chest; little sniffles coming out from him as you console your weeping spouse. 

oh keiji.. my sweet, sweet keiji..

“look at me, keiji.” said man raises his head up to meet your gaze. cupping his cheeks to bid the tears goodbye, you offer him a smile, “i know you’re mad– very mad—and i get you! it’s totally valid to feel like this” swiping your thumbs to get rid of the stray tears, you continue, “i’m sorry this happened to you, keiji. you know i’m not the best with words, but to try and bring comfort to you, i could join you if you do decide to wreak havoc in the office. you with your sketchbooks, me with my thousand page law books. how does that sound, hmm?” 

a small smile appears on his face—a sight you’ve seen each day, yet something you’ve never grown accustomed to. 

“really? you’d do that with me?” the smile on his face grows; eyes lighting up with glee as he takes in your words.

feeling a hot flush creep up on your face, you can’t help but utter your next words unwittingly, “you’re so pretty, keiji.” a few beats of silence pass as you process your own words.

well shit.

“o- oh, sorry! i didn’t mean to say that.. well! i mean you are pretty… really pretty actually, but–” small, yet resounding giggles stop your flow of speech. 

“even after eight years of being together, you still get flustered saying compliments” giggles-turned-to-laughter now escape from an akaashi keiji—his hand clutching his stomach as he slaps the bed. 

“hey! don’t be mean! it’s not my fault you’re so pretty..” you start sulking as you take in the sight of your now laughing husband, seemingly enjoying your flustered state.

as his laughter slowly comes to a halt, his next words surprise you even more.

“well. to make it even.. you’re really, really beautiful too, wife” a grin appears on akaashi keiji’s face as he kisses your forehead. 

your eyes widen as you process his words. 

me… beautiful… i’m… he thinks… he said i’m beautiful..

“stop your dirty tricks, keiji! this was supposed to be me comforting you— mmph!” 

he cuts you off with a kiss.

linking lia's flufftober event here!!

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ ✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ ✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡

please check her event and works out!!

🐈‍⬛️: gang first time writing for hq and I KNOW IM VERY MUCH AWARE that it's ooc LMAODMAOSDGIOA BUT EVEN SO, I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED MWAWMAMWA. i won't add hq to my taglist (yet. i'll still see LAMDOAMD), but shamless self plug LAMSDOAMSD if you'd like to be part of my taglist(s) for blue lock, honkai star rail, ace of diamond, kaiju no 8 and/or genshin, please access the gform link below <3

© sheyfu on tumblr

[lowkeyrobin]

MCYT with an S/O who fosters kittens? :D

OH MY LORD YESYESYESHDNSKDNDN I had sm inspo w this bc I have 5 cats (cats are one of my favorite things ever I swear) and yeah dkkdkd THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST

MCYT ; you foster kittens

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, quackity, foolish gamers, & slimecicle

warnings ; language, talk of harm towards animals

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

genuinely feels so bad when you have to let the cats go

like he tears up nearly every fucking time

he watches some of these poor cats go from aggressive and distant, barely able to eat because they don't trust you yet, to warm, loving and cuddly little creatures

he literally watches them grow and he gets so emotional cause like why can't you keep all of them???

he'll be off to the side when you're handing them away to a new home wiping his tears

he's more emotional about it than you

he gifts you like new cat food bowls and cat towers and stuff once they get all beaten to a pulp

if you're fostering more than like three at a time, he'll have a gang of them on his lap while he's editing, recording, or lounging around

his hands are always covered in scratches and scars because he'll fuck around and find out even after you warn him about them being feisty at first

"this one got ran over by a car and he's blind now"

"can we keep him?? :("

RANBOO

like tubbo, it warms his heart to see you care so much about the poor babies that just need a little help readjusting and understanding that not all people are bad/you're there to help them

absolutely loves when you bring back like little feisty babies that barely know how to walk but know how to hiss

they can't help but laugh like "awe oh my god, this is so sad but it's so cute"

when I tell you all those cats are so spoiled by them

it's sweet though, he really cares about all the cats you take in too, you honestly foster them together at this point

you guys end up keeping this tuxedo cat with one eye and name it Jellyfish (as per chats vote)

the amount of fanart of you two with jellyfish 💔💔💔 so cute

jellyfish becomes the mom of all the new fosters and looks over them and shit, that way they ease into the new environment a little better

buys all the fosters outfits. there's a barbie sized closet for all the clothes

FREDDIE BADLINU

it's like there's a new cat every week considering he brings back street cats as well LMAO

these mf cats are SO SPOILED but they deserve it

he gets so attached to the disabled ones because he loves having to help them out

he loves teaching them how to eat from his hands too

it's so funny, like they'll nick his fingers and he'll be like "fuck, that tickles, Mr. Peanut!"

gets so emotional when you have to give them to better homes

like hugs and kisses them goodbye 4 times

he genuinely thinks your magic, watches those cats go from shy and trying to stay away from you to like being attached to you by the hip and all wagging their tails

he's constantly running around the house playing with them too

he loves seeing them pop up on 2 legs like meerkats when he's serving them wet food or treats LMAO

NIKI NIHACHU

she couldn't care less that the house is loaded with cat stuff and a whole room is filled with cat towers, shelves and toys for them

loves making new little puzzles/mazes for the cats with the shelves, making a little competition to see who can get to the top fastest

she names the cats because she's gonna get attached either way, but after a while they become more and more silly

like they go from Sebastian and Pixel to Tater Tot and Simon From Alvin And The Chipmunks so quickly

she learns how to make homemade cat treats as well

she also, like ranboo, gets a little barbie closet and fills it with cat outfits

some cats like the outfits and others don't, but the ones who do, good god it's like britney manson on the runway

absolute ws in that house, photoshoots for days

QUACKITY

"AH WHAT THE FUCK? Y/n! come get Jessie and Walter, they've invaded my stream!"

he genuinely names most the foster cats characters from meme shows/movies/memes in general

actually named one Badass Grandmas Meme ; also named another Hurricane Tortilla after that one vine

always taking .5s of the cats once they've accepted that he exists as well

sometimes they hop on his desk and join the stream

"Oh, look! it's Goldfish, she's the newest foster that y/n took in"

constantly taking pictures of you and the fosters throughout the stages of rehabilitation

from hissing and scratching to cuddling on the couch and lazy naps

no cat leaves without a little pair of sunglasses

he's genuinely inspired to make quackity cat merch because most of the fosters you take in LOVE clothes LMAO

FOOLISH GAMERS

literally treats these mfs as babies

you'll walk in and see him holding one of the elderly cats you're rehabiliting from a bad home whom just got rescued and he's holding this poor girl like a literal infant

she loves it though, most the cats do

the fosters love playing with his hair too, and he plays into it, always bends down to their level and wobbles his hair around for them to smack around and try to chew on

he has such a soft spot for them

if you're having one of those rare moments where you might give up on a cat, he's right there to try and help you

flea baths on kittens are always done by him, he feels so bad for each of them, meanwhile you're on cat-drying duty and giving them a lil medication to kill any remaining fleas

he's 50/50 on names at first but gives up with trying to not name them bc he gets attached anyways

"Oh, lookit! this is Evergreen, she's been chilling with us for like, 3 months I think"

he loves when they interrupt his streams bc they're so cute and explorative and curious LMAO

CHARLIE SLIMECICLE

he's the most supportive of you fostering cats like ever

loves fucking around with them and sliding them around on the floor, if there's any long hair cats, he loops very loose bows and clips around their fur and shit

cradles them like babies to sleep

and then slips them into the cat tower or on the couch/bed etc

even covers them with a little blanket

"Oh shit, they've invaded, they're raiding! the axe weilding brothers are here!"

gives them the most dumbass names like Microwave Popcorn and Toaster Strudle

he frames pictures of every cat in the hallway once they leave