#leaning into it in fact xD

[hoffstrap-yuri]

Bad Idea, Right?

ao3 // masterlist

*Summary: Peter Strahm goes over to Det. Hoffman's house to get more information about the Jigsaw case. Should be simple enough, right?

*Rating: +18 for explicit mature content

*Content/Tags: Feeding Kink, PWP, Feedee Peter Strahm, Feeder Mark Hoffman

*Status: Oneshot/Complete

Strahm used his free hand to massage his temples. He blinked a couple of times to wet his eyes once more and got out of his car. He grabbed his bag and slung his suit jacket over his forearm before closing the door. He walked over to the door before him, hesitating to turn the knob before getting over his trepidation.

“You know.” A man said, stepping out of the kitchen and leaned against the wall frame. He crossed his arms in front of him and raised an eyebrow, “Most guests knock before entering someone’s house.”

“Sorry. Thought I could come in.” The other man, slightly taller, replied.

“Have a seat in here, Agent Strahm.” He made a gesture towards the kitchen table and Strahm walked over to the little set-up. At most the table was only ever meant to seat two people, but it was clear that the vinyl on one chair was a little more worn than the other. Strahm could see why a man who lived alone would choose to sit there. Clear sight line to the entryway. If he craned his head up just so, then he could see into the lot behind the house. The other seat didn’t offer nearly this level of security and while he was the guest in the Detective’s home, he sat at the less used seat. Something was cooking on the stove behind Strahm that reminded Strahm of home. Sitting in his nonna’s kitchen on Sunday’s after church, trying to get a sample of the spaghetti sauce before she caught him and hit the back of his hand with a wooden spoon. He smiled to himself as the other man put the lid back on whatever it was he was cooking, bolognese if Strahm remembered correctly.

“You didn’t have to cook for me.” Strahm cleared his throat and adjusted his tie.

“I know, but I wanted to. You look like you haven’t had a decent meal in months, before you even came here.” Hoffman sat down in his preferred seat

“What makes you think I haven’t had a good meal?” Strahm was borderline offended, not because he was wrong but because of how easy the other man seemed to read him.

“For a man your age you’re rather thin. Though you have some bulk in your center you’re not big by any means.” Hoffman leaned into the table, putting an elbow up as he shared a gaze with Agent Strahm. There seemed to be an implication behind his movements that Hoffman meant that Strahm wasn’t as big as he was. He seemed to answer Strahm’s puzzled look with a slight smirk that exuded confidence. Almost… flirtatious? “Probably from a couple years of fast food.”

“Truly your detective powers of perception are impeccable.” Strahm remarked, rather dryly

“Then I’m right? That’s all that matters to me.”

“That’s not…” Strahm started but shook his head, “Anyway, I came here to talk about the case.”

“Right.” Hoffman crossed his legs under the table and Strahm pulled the file from his bag. He went to pin up the details onto the wall as a force of habit, but then realized that he wasn’t in his little office with a pin board. After this gaff, he spread the files across the table hoping that Hoffman didn’t notice him. “Here’s what we know so far.”

“By we you mean…” Hoffman’s thought trailed off only for Strahm to answer

“Lindsay and I.”

“Of course.”

“And we were hoping if there was any supplemental information you could provide us about Agent Kerry or the jigsaw murders at all, now would be a good time…”

“I do actually.” Hoffman got up from the table and brought his files over, leaving them in a nice stack to the side of Strahm’s flurry of papers. “This one looks the most promising. Similar modus operandi, similar tape…”

“Awesome.” Strahm took the file from Hoffman’s hands and thumbed through the papers. “And you were sure this murder was committed by Amanda Young and not John Kramer?”

“That’s what the evidence suggests.”

“Then it’s not confirmed?”

“It’s still an open case, agent.” Hoffman replied

“Okay.” Strahm took a deep breath and looked closer over another file Hoffman brought to him

“Dinner’s ready as well.” Hoffman commented, towering over Strahm and leaning against the chair

“Okay.” Strahm replied absentmindedly as Hoffman dished himself up a plate. Hoffman looked the FBI agent up and down while the agent’s eyes remained glued to the papers before him. Hoffman had finished eating and cleaned up his plate before Strahm moved on to the next case. He walked over to the table and cleaned up Strahm’s pile, leaving out what Strahm had pointed out early as the most pertinent information.

“You know, agent. It’s really rude of you to come over and not eat anything after your host has made something for you.”

Strahm knew the second the words slipped out that that was the beginning of the end for him, “I mean I didn’t ask you to make anything for me.” He could hear his grandmother shouting at him from the beyond. Hoffman gave him a look that Strahm tried to dismiss at the time, but knew he’d more than upset the other man.

“The food’s getting cold.” Hoffman replied, pulling Strahm close by his necktie. “Now I would suggest, you start eating.”

“Or what?” Strahm scoffed

“I’ll just feed you myself.”

“I’m not a toddler, I can feed myself just fine, thank you.” Strahm cleaned up his space on the table fully and went over to the stove. He picked up the plate that Hoffman had left next to the pot of sauce then grabbed a tongs worth of noodles before carefully ladling on the sauce. The texture was thinner than the sauce his grandmother made, but it still had a familiar smell to it. He only covered maybe half the plate and brought his meal back to the table. “There, can we talk about the case now?”

“At least tell me whether it’s to your liking, Agent.” Hoffman rested his head on his knuckles and waited for Strahm to take a bite. Strahm rolled his eyes and brought a forkful up to his mouth. He paused for a second before eventually taking a bite.

“Could use a couple seconds in the microwave.” Strahm muttered under his breath. Hoffman took the plate from out under him and popped it into his microwave. Anger was rising in Strahm’s voice as he told Hoffman, “You know, I am a grown man. I could’ve done it myself, Detective.”

“And have you take 20 minutes to do that? Fat chance.” Hoffman crossed his arms as he waited for the familiar ding of the appliance. He brought the plate back over to the agent and sat across from him once more. “Is that better?”

“Yeah.” Strahm replied quickly in between a bite. He wanted to mouth off a bit more, something about Hoffman’s people-pleasing nature that drove Strahm up the wall… but the food was pretty damn good. Hoffman looked over his shoulder back at the range before getting up once more and grabbing the plate of garlic bread to ring back to the table.

“Eat.” Hoffman said. There was no intonation change that made it sound like a question, but it definitely came off as a command. Strahm scowled before taking a piece of bread off the plate and shoving it into his mouth. He chewed at it while keeping his face even-tempered but enjoyed the garlic flavor. He looked over the piece with fondness, trying to remember the last time he had good quality garlic bread and not just as a side to some crappy Italian him and Lindsey would pick-up during their investigations. Hoffman’s hand got in Strahm’s face, snapping his attention back to the meal at hand. “At this rate you’ll be finished with dinner by bedtime.”

“So?” Strahm scoffed

“Hurry it up.” Hoffman got up from his chair, shoved a piece of garlic bread into Strahm’s mouth and placed his hand underneath Strahm’s jaw to guide the other man’s pace. Strahm tried to free himself from Hoffman’s grasp but his mouth was clamped in between Hoffman’s thumb and forefinger. Hoffman’s gaze lied square on Strahm’s face. A heavy sigh left Strahm’s nostrils after he finished the bread. Without hesitation, Hoffman brought a giant forkful of the spaghetti up to Strahm’s lips and nudged it into his mouth. “That’s a good boy.” Strahm’s whole body went weak for a second at those words. Something about Hoffman’s low voice saying that to him made him want to eat. Would Hoffman’s praise continue in that sultry voice if he did eat more? Before he could finish his bite another fork was brought up to Strahm’s mouth. His lips didn’t budge for a second, but after a growl let slip from Hoffman’s throat, Strahm slurped up the noodles. “You can go faster.”

“No, I really can’t.” Strahm rolled his eyes

“You can, and you will.” Hoffman replied back before shoving more pasta into Strahm’s mouth. “See that plate’s gone. That wasn’t hard.”

“You say that like I’m going to eat more.” Strahm groaned a little bit at the thought of being stuffed to the brim. Hoffman simply took his plate and refilled it with the same pasta to sauce ratio that Strahm had previously. Strahm looked up at him with incredulous eyes, but ate as the fork came back up to his mouth.

“And you still eat anyway.” Hoffman hummed as Strahm worked himself back up into a decent pace once more and ate the second plate of pasta. He let a heavy sigh escape from his lips and leaned back in his seat before quietly muttering,

“No more…”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” Hoffman feigned ignorance. He heard the other man just fine, and Strahm knew that but he had to repeat himself.

“I’m too full.” Strahm huffed

“Fine.” Hoffman replied before snaking a hand over Strahm’s shoulder and across his chest. Strahm made a soft grunt as the hand kept moving further south, resting on Strahm’s distended stomach

“What are you…” Strahm looked at Hoffman’s hand before moaning as his finger tips sunk slowly into the his overstuffed gut. His moan was interrupted by a slight burp before his hand covered his mouth. Strahm felt himself grow red in the face as Hoffman’s other hand worked in tandem to rub the bulge that spilled over his belt.

“How’s that?” Hoffman asked, leaning against Strahm’s ear as his fingers dug deeper. Rather than answer with words, another groan escaped from his mouth. “You’re never like this at work, Peter. Maybe I could get something done if I just threw some food in front of you and fawned over how well behaved you are.”

“Fat fucking…” Strahm started to say, getting cut off by some noise his body decided to release at that moment, “Fat fucking chance.”

“What would your partner think of you? Seeing you make a pig of yourself at your desk. She’d probably notice the way I’d slip a dozen donuts in front of you and their disappearance before lunch…” Hoffman whispered the copiously sweet nothings into Strahm’s ear as a hand slipped its way between Strahm’s legs. “You’ve been fighting it up until this point. Trying to eat as little as you can while your partner’s around so you don’t have to think about your lack of shame when it comes to sucking down food. Don’t fight it when I’m around. Give into me, Agent Strahm.”

Strahm could only respond with his teeth pressing into his lips, threatening to tear the skin open from the pressure. Hoffman’s lips were dangerously close to Strahm’s cheek, he wanted that connection so badly. Hoffman knew this, and so he kept it from Strahm as his hands worked the belt off Strahm’s waist. Next came the fly of Strahm’s pants which Hoffman unzipped, carefully palming at the erection that was hiding under Strahm’s clothes. Hoffman gave the other man a couple of quick pumps with his hand before fully committing to jerking him off. Strahm’s dick sat squarely in Hoffman’s hand for a moment before he focused on giving the Agent long strokes along the length. Strahm grunted and his foot jerked up, hitting one of the legs of the table. Hoffman could only make a small ‘tisk’ noise as Strahm tried to keep himself composed while the other man got him off. Hoffman’s free hand trailed up Strahm’s shirt before resting just below Strahm’s pecs. A breath of hot air rolled along Strahm’s neck and he jolted as he came onto the underside of Hoffman’s dining room table. As he felt himself coming down from his stuffed high, he heard Hoffman whisper over his head some iteration of “Good boy” over and over. He zipped himself back up, careful not to get the bottom of his work shirt caught in the fly. However, just before he could relax, Hoffman pulled the chair out from under Strahm and sent the other man falling to the floor. He cursed loudly and looked up at Hoffman.

“You made a mess. Now clean it.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do? Lick it off like I’m some kind of dog?”

“No.” Hoffman shook his head, “Just some pathetic pig.” Hoffman looked at the semen left on his thumb, and brought it up to his lips before letting the appendage dip fully into his mouth. After that was clear, he made a show of licking the cum left on his palm off from the center up. Strahm leaned forward a bit before he felt the press of Hoffman’s foot on his back, forcing him back down onto all fours. Strahm growled in response but got up to the table and dipped his tongue into his mess. He gagged a little bit, wondering how Hoffman had managed to make the substance look so alluring as he swallowed it off his hand. He felt Hoffman’s big toe digging deeper into his back as he refused to lick the cum off, so he slowly began to lap at it. “You really don’t have any shame do you, Agent?”

“Shut up.” He turned his head back to argue, only to realize that there was no winning in this scenario. He turned back around and continued licking up his semen for Hoffman’s pleasure. When most of the white was gone, and could easily be cleaned up with a rag, Hoffman helped Strahm back onto the chair. His hands gravitated back to Strahm’s stomach and finally gave Strahm the ever elusive peck on the cheek he’d been expecting during their whole liaison. Strahm’s hands, which had been oddly still up until this point, forced Hoffman’s lips over to meet his and they kissed for a moment. Hoffman’s hands clutched at the collar of Strahm’s shirt and pulled him up onto his feet before guiding Strahm up against a wall. His shoulder blade hit the drywall, definitely leaving a mark. Hoffman growled into their kiss before pulling himself off. “Gave up already, fucker?”

“No. No. Just you’ve probably worked off all those calories I packed into you.” Hoffman laughed lowly, his lips meeting with Strahm’s neck. “Think you can fit in some dessert?” Strahm mulled the offer over for a second before shaking his head. “Shame. I make a damn good lobster tail.” He pulled Strahm by the collar of his shirt and brought him to his bedroom. Maybe one more round and Strahm would have the room for something more.

[blackjackkent]

OK, time for a very small nice thing for Rakha to counteract all the Horrors.

"*sniff*"

Narrator: The dog seems wary, sniffing you intently.

Offer your hand to the dog to sniff, being careful not to spook it.

Narrator: The dog sniffs your hand and seems more at ease.

"*Bark!*"

-----

Wyll watches Rakha with the dog, a slight smile touching his lips. And Jaheira watches Wyll, and frowns sympathetically.

"I can only imagine it is a trying time to love her," she says gently, in a voice low enough to reach only his ears.

Wyll stiffens. His eyes don't move from Rakha, but Jaheira can see the way he turns his body. It's an unconscious motion, protective, ready to step between Jaheira and Rakha if the need should arise. "Are you suggesting I ought not to?" he says carefully.

Jaheira smiles a little to herself. She could have expected this response. He's a good man, the Ravengard boy - the sort of stout support Rakha will need in the times to come. Caden had Aerie, and it made all the difference in some of his lowest moments.

And Wyll is not so far out of the way from Aerie, really. Both of them torn from their homes by terrible circumstance, mutilated by the cruelty of uncaring masters, and yet full of warmth in spite of it all. Both of them tossed into the way of a Bhaalspawn in whom they found light and love and hope in spite of the darkness. It's a comforting parallel.

And yet... Jaheira has to admit Wyll's path is strewn with far more rocks than Aerie's was. Caden carried Bhaal's taint, but he never slipped so far into the dark as Rakha has. There is an animal ferocity in Rakha that Caden never had, a beast that strains far more strongly at its leash.

"Hardly," she says. "Indeed, I am very glad you do. I only mean that it is not easy to love one so marked by fate."

Wyll hesitates. She can see his loyalty warring with his honesty.

She smiles faintly. "You need not confide in me unless you wish," she says. "Certainly this is only an old woman's meddling."

"No, it's--" He frowns, looks away for a moment - checks to see that Lae'zel and Minthara are not listening, that Rakha is still distracted by the pup. "I hate it," he admits, so low that even Jaheira can barely hear him. "I hate what it does to her. I look at her now... that little smile she gets on her face, that moment of gentleness. All the questions, the moments when she wants to learn, to do the right thing, to understand everything. The music. The magic - the beauty she sees in it, the things she tells me about..." He swallows. "That's the woman I love, and I'd do anything for her. But there's something else there that's not her at all, and it frightens me so terribly."

He trails off, looking down at his boots. "It isn't fair."

"No," she agrees quietly. "No, it most certainly is not. And it is a cruel truth, in my experience, that such unfair business lands all too often on the shoulders of those who deserve it least."

He fidgets uneasily with the hilt of the rapier on his hip. "If what she says is true... she did terrible things, back before she lost her memory. Am I simply a fool, to think that isn't her? That I can love her in spite of that, that she's someone different now?"

"Only you can answer that for yourself." Jaheira studies his expression thoughtfully for a moment. "But if you want my opinion - no. It does not make you foolish, but brave." A pause. "I have cared for many, in the past, who knew their share of darkness. And I am no fool. The foolishness would be in believing she has no choice to change."

He relaxes visibly and his eyes brighten at the reassurance. "Yes," he says. A slight pause. "Your friend... Gorion's Ward..."

"Caden," she says. Her lips twitch. "The legends speak of him always with such grandiose titles..."

He laughs softly. "Caden, then. Did he... frighten you, ever?"

She is quiet a long moment before answering. "At times. There were moments when I knew he struggled with things I could not see. And it frightened me to know that in the end it was his journey, and I could do nothing but stand at his side and see him through."

Wyll nods. "I would take the burden from her, if I could," he says.

"I know you would." She claps him gently on the shoulder. "And it is for that reason that I am glad you cannot. Do not tear yourself apart trying to lay an easy path that does not exist. She will need you, whole-minded and strong, for what is to come."

He draws a slow breath, and she can hear a slight tremble in the exhale. Ye gods, boy, you are so terribly young to face such trials, she thinks bitterly. I never knew love that did not have its touch of pain, but you have earned something bearing a less sharp edge.

But I am familiar with the sense, by now, of standing on history's cusp. Had she not had your guidance, I think Rakha would have a great deal more blood on her hands. And I think, perhaps, one day the strength of your heart will be seen to have saved the world.

"Thank you," he says softly.

She nods. "I am here when you need me," she answers. "And you will - of that I am certain. We have, all of us, a very long road ahead."

[queen-scribbles]

Life Day shots of the SWtOR babes + spouses while I try to decide who gets to attend Grey's party tonight :D

[phoenixiancrystallist]

OH YEAH I DID ART

Month 6, day 3, did days 1 and 2 of @adorkastock's Draw Everything June challenge!

Not me making up characters on the spot, no, I would never, it's not like character design is my truest love or anything :P Neither of them have names, but Day 1 uses he/him pronouns and Day 2 uses she/her pronouns and made the kitty cat patch for her pocket herself :3

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Hotter Than Texas | Part I

(unofficially: Brother's Worst Enemy)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

Alrighty y'all, this is for everyone who has so patiently waited for me to make this a thing XD Not sure if I could squeeze a whole series out of this one but we shall see. Maybe at least a part 2. Enjoy!

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.

Aka it's a road trip, strap in.

CW: swearing, age gap (10 years)

The mission is simple. Collect Seresin Junior from the train station near the main gate of the base and deliver said cargo to the Seresin homestead in Eastern Texas on his way to Atlanta, Georgia for a long overdue visit with his grandparents. It isn’t rocket science. It sure as hell doesn’t hold a candle to the canyon run he pulled off just the other month. And yet, Bradley’s drumming his fingers anxiously on the hood of his Bronco as he leans into its frame, waiting on the trolley from downtown San Diego.

While Jake and Bradley have recently made peace after their longstanding cold war, Bradley isn’t exactly thrilled to meet another one of his kind. Besides, he isn’t one for small talk, and the prospect of spending the next two days with a complete stranger is downright daunting. He prefers music to conversation and he’s hoping that his road trip companion won’t be offended when he turns up the radio and forgets there’s anybody else in the car.

When Hangman had asked for the favor, he assured Bradley that he was his last choice – which wasn’t exactly a compliment, but Bradley appreciated the gesture, nonetheless. By the end of the term, there was nobody from their squadron left on base except Bradley, and he would be heading east anyway, might as well provide shuttle service while he’s at it.

As the trolley whistles into the station, Bradley pushes off his car and straightens his back, watching the tinted windows as they zip by, a blur at first and then gradually separating as the trolley comes to a stop.

Bradley leaves his car to walk around the fence, not quite sure how he’s going to be greeting a person he’s never before seen, but it’s not like he’s going to fashion a sign for the occasion. He sticks his hands into his pockets, the breeze picking up his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt like a parachute before it starts whipping around his torso in the wind tunnel on the platform.

He glances around at the commuters stepping off the trolley, trying to pick out the blondes that might resemble his colleague, when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns his head, just as you say, “Rooster, right?”

He blinks at you, slightly disoriented. You look nothing like Hangman, thank fuck, because Bradley can’t take his eyes off you and, as inappropriate as this reaction is, it would make it that much worse if you did. He gives you a sideways grin. “What gave me away?” he says.

“My brother told me to find the dorkiest guy at the station,” you respond, grinning at him.

Bradley chuckles. “So, you’re walking to Texas, then,” he says, stepping around you.

You laugh, struggling to redirect the wheels of your suitcase.

Bradley bends down to grab the handle. “I can take that,” he says, tucking away the retractable bar and lifting it off the ground by the strap.

“Thanks,” you say, cringing slightly as Bradley lifts the luggage as though you’re embarrassed by its weight.

But after the countless exercise drills over the years, Bradley hardly notices that it’s heavy. In fact, he could probably carry it over his head. He eyes you inconspicuously as you fall in step with him, wondering if perhaps that might impress you – not that he wants to impress you.

“Actually, he said I couldn’t miss you because you’d be a head taller than everyone else, and probably wearing a very bright shirt.”

Bradley looks over at you with a grin. “Hopefully I didn’t disappoint?”

You eye his shirt flapping in the breeze. “I found you, didn’t I?”

Bradley lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car and walks around to open your door for you.

You give him a suspicious look. “Thanks,” you say.

Bradley nods at you, offering a hand to help you in. Once you’re seated, he shuts the door behind you and exhales unsteadily the kind of sigh that often accompanies a guilty conscience. There’s no way he could possibly get entangled in a mess of this magnitude. And a colossal mess it would become if he were to develop any sort of soft spot for his recent enemy’s baby sister. Bradley, being a sensible, mature adult, understands this unequivocally. But, when he rounds the car and climbs into the driver’s seat next to you, the notion that he’s not allowed under any circumstances to find you attractive flies right out his rolled down window.

This is because you’re already tuning the radio like you own the place and because you smell like a goddess. Bradley has no clue whether it’s your hair or your perfume or your goddamn essence that’s permeated his upholstery in under ten seconds, but whatever it is, he certainly wouldn’t mind smelling it on his sheets in the morning.

Fuck. He’s fucking fucked.

“This alright?” you ask casually, as if you didn’t just hijack a stranger’s radio.

He cringes at the stereo; he’ll have to work on your taste in music. “Got your seatbelt on?” he asks as he pulls out.

You turn around in your seat and pull on the seatbelt.

Bradley promptly hits the breaks and you lurch forward slightly, the seatbelt in your hand getting stuck on its way out. He looks over at you with an air of seriousness despite the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “The seatbelt should be the first thing you do when you enter a vehicle.” Not fiddle with the radio, he adds silently.

You raise your eyebrows at him in amusement. “Okay, dad.”

Bradley nearly shudders at your response. He’s probably a good ten years older than you, so, really, while dad might be stretching it, you’re not too far off. “Keep up that attitude and you’ll be listening to Metallica the whole way home.”

You smirk at him. “I like Metallica, so joke’s on you, bud.”

Bradley starts driving again. “If you like Metallica, then why are we listening to this trash?”

Your jaw drops and you reach for the volume dial to turn up the song. “How dare you?”

Bradley rolls his eyes. Something tells him he’s in for a wild ride.

…

About two hours later, Bradley pulls into a small gas station just past the border into Arizona.

“Want something to eat?” he asks, leaning across the console to pop his glove compartment and pull out his wallet. “Or drink?”

You purse your lips. “I could go for a coffee.”

“How do you like it?” he asks.

“With a pinch of salt.”

Bradley gapes at you. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

You snort. “I’m not joking. You should try it! Cuts the bitterness in half, my friend.”

Bradley cringes. “The bitterness is why I drink it.”

You shake your head and declare wisely, “You’ll see.”

“That you’re a nutcase?” Bradley mutters under his breath as he exits the car. He jogs over to the convenience store, determinedly blocking out the seductive quality of your persuasive tone. You could probably convince him to drink a pint of his own urine if you set your mind to it.

Bradley drums impatiently on the counter, waiting for the clerk to finish restocking one of the shelves with chips. While he’s waiting, he glances out to check on you as if you’re a child under his charge. You’ve stepped out of the Bronco to stretch your legs and Bradley doesn’t like the way the two guys in the convertible in behind are eyeing you.

Bradley cranes his neck to check on the clerk’s progress and lets out a stifled sigh. When he looks back outside, he sees that one of the men has approached you and, well, Bradley isn’t about to wait to see what happens next. He drops a bill on the counter and calls out, “Keep the change,” to the clerk before practically slamming his way through the doors with the coffees in his hands.

Why it bothers him that some random dude might want your number is not of consequence. What matters is that Bradley gets rid of this asswipe before you start enjoying his company.

He strides confidently past the man chatting you up and stops right in between you and him, handing you a coffee.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he cautions moodily, not entirely sure how to go about handling a situation in which, objectively speaking, he has no real authority.

You meet his gaze with a small smile. “You don’t say,” you respond with all the sultriness of a blazing, desert sun.

Bradley’s gaze remains unwaveringly on you as he unhooks a pair of Ray-Bans from the neck of his muscle shirt and slides them over his eyes. “Ready to go?” he asks in a level tone, hoping he can avoid what is bound to be an unpleasant interaction with the man still standing behind him.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the man speaks up. “Didn’t realize you were with someone, honey.”

Bradley keeps his eyes on yours for several moments longer, trying his best not to show the irritation he feels at the way this rando just called you ‘honey’. Reluctantly, he turns to face him, wondering what in the world he could say that wouldn’t make him sound jealous as fuck.

But before Bradley could speak, you slide casually into his side, leaning on him like it’s the most natural thing. “That’s just fine,” you say to the man. “No harm, no foul.”

Bradley looks down at your head as it nestles into his shoulder and then lifts his arm to let you move in closer. Trying to play it cool, he skims the tips of his fingers across your lower back, which is warm and feels like the perfect place to rest his hand.

Convertible guy promptly departs, and Bradley is left standing in an embrace with the one person on the entire planet for whom he should never catch feelings, at a derelict gas station on the outskirts of arid Yuma, Arizona, and the heat is really starting to get to him. Slowly, you start to peel yourself away and Bradley, sensing your withdrawal, drops his hand and recoils from you like you’ve burnt him.

Did it feel nice pretending you were his girl? Sure did. Is he going to erase it from his memory and never let himself so much as shake your hand again? Absolutely.

Read Part 2

Tag List

I’ll be tagging the rest in the comments probably tomorrow!

@joaquinwhorres

@katiemcrae

@sehnsuchts-trunken

@toomuchfluffs

@wintercap89

@lonelywitchv2

@callsign-jupiter

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@olliepig

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@boringusername3

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@mak-32

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@Topguncultleader

@avengers-fixation

[kyri45]

Not me abusing the asks to both share my love for the bioparents AU AND rant about the panels because none of my friends are in the LMK fandom and I'm suffering here so TAKE MY LOVE AND APPRECIATION ABOUT YOUR ART I guess x)

So first of all

I am a SUCKER for that kind of leaning in frames I'm going to print that and plaster it on my wall THEY ARE EVERYTHING /hj

I almost jumped of my chair when this one popped up YOU FED US GOOD its so worth the angst train incoming. Of course the panels before and after were equally as amazing but if I start going about every single panel we're still here in three days AT THE VERY LEAST LOL

Of course this one made me laugh like please their little faces

Using that to point out how much I love ALLLLLLL the silly faces you put in your comics I'm munching on them every single time they're crushy like chips or something just. Nom nom. Yummy.

Poor Nesha (Nesha? Nezha? Neja? I have no idea on how to write his name I already forgor LMAO) needs to be payed more. He tries to save MK and ends up dealing with two lovesick teenagers demons who have no concept of time/place/occasion apparently. Poor him. He gets a pat on the head for his troubles

And of course just the "NOPE I'M KEEPING HIM" mode and honestly we should have seen it coming- Red son was planning to courtnap him and didn't sleep in the past 5 days so he's not having any bullshit YOU'RE NOT TAKING HIS NOODLE BOY AWAY-

Could bet he spent so long thinking about the cournapping in the 5 past days his brain just cannot process that yeah maybe you need to let him down you're just going to drag him in more troubles- Either that or he's just going full protective mode. Both options are good anyways sooooo :)

We stan a protective boyfriend in this house.

---

And finally I'm SOOOOO hyped about whatever is coming next like I know that technically we're supposed to suffer but please I climbed up the angst train so many times now I'm just enjoying it by that point lol. It'll just make the following fluff even more worth it

Also I cannot wait to see MK's plan about the contract I'm so curious I'm dying I love you boys but I really want the plot to progress you can go back to kissing later lol

Finally, thank you for creating this AU. It's stumbling randomly upon it on my tik tok fyp that dragged me into watching Lego Monkie Kid and really THANK YOU FOR THAT. It's such an amazing show I CANNOT BELIEVE I didn't discovered it sooner so really thank for having created this comic because else I could have missed LMK and that would be just saaaad

Fun fact: since I had never interacted with LMK the first time I read your comic, I for some reason thought Macaque was a female (and I probably would have thought the same of Wukong if he wasn't called... well, Wukong because I randomly stumbled upon the myth's Wikipedia page at some point in my life XD). The shock I felt when I heard Macaque for the first time in the show because his voice was soooooo not what I expected x) I'm still laughing at myself to this day

So yeah, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, and I can't wait to see what you're going to pull next :D Wish you allllll the best <3

(I can totally wait, of course, it's just a figure of speech. Take your time, I could wait forever for the next chapter)

ahaha thank you for such a lovely comment!! Glad the scene gived "MINE" vibes as I was planning ahah.

Youu're welcome! It's an honor to serve this fandom. *bows*

[revelboo]

Begging for more soundwave...especially the kink list. We are just little creatures in need of big mech babes XD

Not sure if you meant silent, tentacle cryptid Soundwave or IDW tired, single-dad Soundwave… so here’s both versions 🌶️ 18+ Mass displaced mechs

Soundwave x Reader- Encounters 🌶️

IDW Soundwave x Reader- bad dream

• He can feel the moment your dreams shift and go somewhere dark. Your emotions snarling and crackling over him as he sits up and looks over at you. Face buried against your pillow, you shift in your sleep. Reaching over, he smoothes a palm along your spine, the contact strengthening the connection between you two, but he can’t make any sense of the nightmare, only the visceral fear. Venting softly, he hooks an arm under you and pulls you into his lap.

• Your distress follows you into waking as you fight the arm wrapped around you in blind panic before Soundwave hums at you, holding you as the shaking eases leaving your heart racing. A fact he notes by pressing a servo right over that frantic rhythm. His mask brushes against your cheek and neck as he rumbles against you. “Safe, little one.” Smiling at that low, tonal voice, you lean into him in response.

• “Did I wake you?” Worrying about him to try and hide how shaken you still are? Sliding his palm up to tip your head back against his shoulder, he vents against your skin just to feel your body go taut against him. Knows if he asks you won’t tell him about the nightmare. It’s not the first time and as much as it bothers him, likely won’t be the last. Whatever haunts your rest is something you don’t trust him with yet. He understands even as it doesn’t sit right with him, but he also knows how to banish that fear from your thoughts completely.

• Servos against your throat, keeping your head back against his shoulder so your body is arched, you feel the arm curled around you shift, slide down to cup you. Know exactly what he’s doing, because somehow he knows when that nightmare surfaces and his response since you can’t talk about it is always the same. Distraction. Shuddering as his servos pet you, stroking as you respond for him. Body heating and softening, because this sort of distraction? The kind that makes you feel alive and cherished? You need it right now. “Please,” you murmur, rocking against his servos and with a low growl, he buries one inside you. Curling it to stroke deep.

• You tremble in his grip, hips bucking to demand more. Fucking you with that one servo in slow deliberate strokes until you’re mindlessly whimpering his name. Begging for him. Until he just can’t fight it anymore. That noise you make when he slips his wet servo free so sweet to him. Lifting your hips and guiding himself to you. And that noise when he buries himself fully inside you in one deep stroke? It almost undoes him right there. Shuddering with restraint, he grips your hips to keep you still while he reins himself in, because otherwise you’ll start moving in his lap and it’ll be over far too soon.

• “Soundwave,” you groan, head falling back against him as he keeps you still. Won’t thrust and won’t let you rock against him, tormenting you with that thick spike stretching you. “Please.” Growling against you, he lifts you until he’s almost free of you, shuddering when you grab onto his hands in protest, because you might just die if he does stop now. But then he’s lowering you again, slowly so you can feel every ridge and bump of his spike. Too slow when your body is thrumming and aching.

• It’s almost like drowning in you, the connection between you both one sided as your emotions crash over him and then he’s gripping your hips, moving you faster on his spike as your need fuels his own. Your head thrown back against him, needy sounds getting ragged and louder as he lifts his hips as he pulls you down, the wet sounds of your body taking his fraying the last of his control. Now he’s making noises, growling as he claims you in urgent drives of his hips and chasing after when you tighten on his spike. Burying himself deep and pinning you in place as he releases inside you, hips rocking to stretch it out.

TFP Soundwave x Reader-tease

• Always busy. Always working. You watch his long servos flying over that weird holographic keyboard, his visored face limned in the screen’s glow as line after line of indecipherable alien gibberish scrolls away. And you’re bored as you stare at his spiky back, mind wandering to things you could be doing instead of work. Like him. And that head turns to stare at you, tipping with predatory interest. The weight of that stare making you breathless with anticipation. Because while he can’t read your thoughts exactly as far as you can figure, he definitely can pick up on when your mind goes hurtling in that direction.

• Need and hunger, pull at him in an intoxicating rush as your face reddens because you know he knows. Snaring you with a tendril looped around your middle, he brings you to him and mass shifts. Your emotions crash over him, straining his own control as you cling to that tendril. Protesting with a laugh as he uses his servos to shred the thin coverings you wear. Needing more connection. A second tendril coiling around your upper thigh, curving to run against you and find you already so wet for him.

• Rocking your hips against the tendril to feel it sliding against you, it’s all you can do to bite back a whimper because he’s toying with you. “Mean. So mean,” you groan as the coil around you tightens slowly before easing. The tendril against you slides again in lovely friction but not nearly enough before he’s finally lowering you onto his spike, long servos curling around your hips to pull you down flush and keep you there. It’s for calling him mean. You know it is and his grip is too strong, you can’t move the way you want to. Need to move as you feel that big spike speared inside you, pulsing with his spark.

• So needy and impatient as he savors the feel of that wet, silken heat gripping his spike. Curling an arm around you, he carefully rolls you under him, pressing his visor against your throat as you gasp. Tendrils capture your wrists, pulling those soft hands up and pinning them and those eyes flash at him in annoyance. But if he lets you have any control, it’s over far too soon. You arch under him as he rocks himself against you teasingly before he begins to thrust in earnest. You don’t understand how hard it is to stay in control when he’s inside you, that telepathic link molten with your need. Feeling what you feel.

• Finally, he begins moving, that spike driving deep as he sets a brutal, urgent pace. He lets go of your wrists long enough to snake one tendril under you and hook around your waist, lifting your hips up and the next thrust slides deep, sparking through you. “Right there, please,” you want to push back to meet those thrusts and can’t with his grip, your hips up as he moves faster, harder, every deep stroke of that spike sliding right where you need it. Right there. And you’re coming apart with a cry as he ruts against you, silent except for the wet sounds of his spike pumping inside you and your own ragged cries before he drives deep, hips jerking against you as warmth spreads through you with his release. That visor rubs against your cheek until your eyes open, breathing raggedly and you snort when he offers you a little heart emoji.

[demonic0angel]

Sorry for my broken English. So I've had this thought for months at this point, just Danny being the chocolate guy from Infinite Realms, and by chocolate guy, I mean the one who makes edible sculptures out of chocolate or other things, but chocolate, after all.

Just imagine a couple of the bats who were mistakenly sent to Danny's lair and they go in and see a real-time recreation of the solar system (made of chocolate) or something.

Or maybe Danny making a themed gift for Pandora's birthday. The videos of Danny making a scale recreation of Clockwork's lair. But mostly, the fact that Danny has access to super rare ingredients due to the portals to other realities makes his creations even crazier, cooler, and with interesting effects. Imagine Constantine fighting at an auction to buy a basket of chocolate apples just because one of the ingredients in them is precisely an apple that is said to cure 99.9% of diseases for which no cure has been discovered. So many possibilities for misunderstandings and chaos right there.

(Your English is perfectly fine! The funniest part is that I think I know exactly which chocolate guy you’re talking about XD)

“And this is… made of chocolate?” Bruce asked, looking at the sculpture.

“It’s amazing,” Damian breathed.

It was an enormous sculpture of the Solar System, all floating in the air. Asteroids and space rocks were made of crystal candy, with moons being sculpted from cake and brownies. Planet rings were made from fruit and gummies all clustered together in floating circles.

Everything was beautiful and well made. Everyone looked at it in awe.

Damian was especially excited, nearly bouncing from sculpture to sculpture to see the delicately formed chocolate and candy put together into a hyper realistic rendition of the Solar System. He dragged along Stephanie with him too, looking overjoyed by everything.

Danny looked back from where he was leading them even deeper into his lair. He gave a small smile and said, “Yeah, it’s all candy and chocolate.”

Jason leaned in closer with a grin, face to face with Jupiter’s chocolate imitation.

“Is it edible?” He asked, looking ready to take a bite the moment Danny gave his confirmation.

“Not sure. I could eat it, but I made everything using the ingredients I get from the planets themselves.”

Everyone took an incredibly long step back, even Jason, his grin quickly falling off his face.

“Say again?” Stephanie asked, staring at Danny in horror.

Danny was still grinning. “Everything’s made with ingredients I procured myself, including stuff from the planets themselves.” He tilted his head and said, “I could eat it just fine, but I’m not sure if you want to eat the dust from other planets.”

Jason grimaced. “I’ll pass, thank you.”

No one wanted a bite of sulfur dioxide, methane gases, or silicon particles. Even if it was covered in chocolate.

Danny shrugged, “Your loss! Neptune’s gases tastes pretty good.”

Everyone gave each other a weary and exasperated look.

How on earth did they forget that he was a crazy space fan and a ghost?

[itsaintmebabe]

off the ice

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ chapter one !

summary: after ignoring y/n one too many times, vi finds herself desperate for the attention she never realized she wanted.

pairing: hockey player! vi x sports med trainer!fem! reader

notes: finally watched arcane and now i NEED vi so im making a series about her XD

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ chapter two / series masterlist

The music was loud, the bass vibrating through the floor as Y/N weaved through the crowded house, a red solo cup in hand. She wasn’t much of a party girl, but Mel had convinced her to come, promising it would be fun. Walking beside Mel and Jayce, she adjusted the hem of her black mini skirt, feeling slightly overdressed despite Mel’s insistence that she looked hot. Knee-high boots clicked against the wooden floor, and the tight black top she wore clung perfectly to her frame. She had confidence, until Vi walked in.

Vi was a presence. She didn’t just enter a room, she took up space in it, demanded attention without even trying. Y/N had always noticed her before, but tonight, Vi looked particularly good, her usual confident smirk in place as she laughed with a few of her hockey teammates.

Y/N had always thought Vi was hot, but she never did anything about it. Vi never really talked to her beyond what was necessary for sports medicine, and Y/N wasn’t about to throw herself at someone who barely acknowledged her. But that didn’t stop her from crushing. That didn’t stop her from getting butterflies when Vi took her helmet off pushing back her sweaty hair out of her face during practice or from stealing glances at her in the locker room while taping up a teammate. Mel had been the one to really notice.

“You stare at her like she’s the answer to all your problems,” Mel had teased while they were getting ready for the party.

Y/N had groaned, shoving her shoulder. “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying,” Mel grinned. “Maybe tonight something will finally happen.”

But whatever hope Y/N had was dashed in an instant.

Jayce, who had walked ahead, clapped a hand on Vi’s shoulder as he passed, causing Vi to turn sharply and in the process, her drink sloshed forward, spilling directly onto Y/N’s top.

Cold. Sticky. Immediate discomfort.

“Oh shit, I’m-” Y/N started, looking up at Vi, expecting an apology, some form of acknowledgment. Instead, Vi barely spared her a glance. Her gaze slid right past Y/N as if she wasn’t even there.

“Hey, Mel,” Vi greeted casually, as if she hadn’t just drenched Y/N in beer.

Mel’s eyes widened in disbelief, her grip tightening around her drink. “Are you serious?”

Vi, already engrossed in conversation with Jayce, didn’t even react.

Mel turned to Y/N, her mouth slightly agape. “Wow. Okay, asshole.”

Y/N forced a laugh, grabbing napkins from the counter. “Yeah. Whatever.”

But it wasn’t whatever.

Because Vi had acknowledged Mel. She had greeted her like normal. And yet, she didn’t even glance at Y/N. Despite the fact that Y/N had been working with the hockey team for months. It was like she was invisible. That cold dismissal stung more than Y/N cared to admit.

Later, in the upstairs bathroom of the frat house, Y/N furiously dabbed at the stain on her top while Mel leaned against the sink, watching her with an unimpressed expression.

“She didn’t even look at you,” Mel pointed out.

Y/N huffed, tossing the now-useless napkin in the trash. “Yeah. I noticed.”

“I thought maybe something would happen tonight,” Mel mused, crossing her arms. “You look so hot!”

Y/N scoffed, finally meeting Mel’s gaze in the mirror. “Guess that doesn’t matter.”

Mel studied her for a moment. “Or she’s just an asshole.”

Y/N let out a humorless laugh. “Well, whatever it is, I’m done looking stupid having a crush on someone who obviously wants nothing to do with me.”

The next morning, Vi strolled into the sports med room like she owned the place, her heavy boots announcing her arrival before she even spoke. Y/N, who had been organizing supplies, knew it was her before she even saw her.

“Yo, need a hand,” Vi announced casually, holding up her loosely wrapped fingers.

Y/N didn’t look up.

Vi frowned. “Hello?”

Silence.

Vi scoffed, stepping closer. “Uh, did you not hear me?”

Y/N finally lifted her head, locking eyes with Vi. Her gaze wasn’t warm or friendly like how Y/N usually was when Vi would come around. Instead, it was indifferent, unimpressed. Then, without a word, she turned towards the door and called out, “Mel! Can you take this one?”

Vi’s eyebrows shot up. “The hell? You’re literally right here.”

Mel, stepping into the room, took one look at the situation and snorted. “Oh, this is rich.” She crossed her arms, glancing between Vi and Y/N. “Yeah, I got it. Have fun last night Vi, got nothing to apologize for?”

Vi scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Y/N didn’t answer. She just turned back to her work, methodically organizing the supplies as if Vi wasn’t even in the room.

Mel sighed and started wrapping Vi’s hands. “Maybe you should probably try giving a damn next time you ruin someone’s night.”

Vi opened her mouth to respond, then closed it, completely thrown. She’d known Mel for a while since she and Jayce started dating and had never had an issue with her but now, now Mel had a new hostility in her tone that definitely had something to do with Y/N. She was used to people fawning over her, not straight-up ignoring her. And yet, you didn’t just ignore her, you dismissed her.

For the first time in a long time, Vi felt completely off her game.

As Mel continued wrapping, another girl from the hockey team walked in, holding her wrist. “Hey, Y/N,” Claire greeted, smiling. “Think I twisted this last night. Can you check?”

Y/N turned, her entire demeanor shifting in an instant. “Of course,” she said, immediately moving to help. Her voice was warm, her smile soft. The stark contrast to how she had just been with Vi was enough to make the pink haired girl’s jaw tighten.

Vi didn’t even realize she was staring until Mel finished tying off the wrap and smirked at her. “You’re good to go, by the way.”

Vi barely reacted. Her hands were fine. But her focus was entirely on Y/N, on the way she smiled at Claire like she hadn’t just looked at Vi like she was nothing minutes earlier.

And for some reason, Vi couldn’t look away.

[gojo-mochi]

Softyyy~ is your req still open? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 ueueue you know how I adore your writing badly I can’t pass this opportunity 😖 ueue if it’s still open can I please req sabo being absolute feral, needy and nasty? wkwjskwswks the rest is up to you xD

thank youuuu🫶🏻

HIIIIIII OMG IM SO SORR FOR THE WAITTTTTTT I HOPE IT GOOD AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ENJOYINH MY WRITING SJKDF AHH I BLUSEHD WHEN I SAW UR ASK DSKF DFDF

˖◛⁺⑅♡ Female Reader! Canon world! Established Relationship!

˖◛⁺⑅♡ Warnings: Mentions of wounds and blood, nightmares, lack of appetite, depression symptoms, etc.

˖◛⁺⑅♡ Sexual Content: Creampie, unprotected sex, lots of biting, overstimulations, close pussyeating, cum eating, spit.

˖◛⁺⑅♡ Word Count: 7k +

105 days, 7 hours, 52 minutes, 13 seconds, and counting. Sabo had been gone from you for that long. Usually, he was accustomed to leaving on extended, secret missions, far from his friends and, in fact, everyone he knew. However, since you and him began dating, Sabo has been unable to tolerate being apart from you, crying on the inside like an anxious puppy when his owner is out of sight. 

A nervous puppy with the abilities of a professional killer, but to you he was still a puppy. 

The mission he was sent on was extremely important, and one he could not fail. Failure would result in months or even years of setbacks in the army's advancement. Even so, it was not any easier to leave you, he kept you in his arms for as long as he could. Holding you close to his chest, your heartbeats synchronizing themselves with each other. 

You were the first to begin to distance yourself from his warmth by leaning away, which only caused Sabo to draw you closer. He inhales deeply as he tries to recall every single thing about you before he had to depart. Tears sting at the corner of your eye, but you suppress them. Instead of leaving Sabo with tears in your eyes, you wanted him to remember that you were smiling. So, he would know that you’ll be just fine without him for a while. 

Hearing a sniffle, Sabo slowly pulls back, bringing his hands up to your face and holding them tenderly. Wiping away the single tear that escaped from your glossy eyes. 

“Promise me you won’t do anything too stupid.” You breathe out quietly, looking up at your lover’s face for the last time in a while. 

“I promise, my dear. I promise you that nothing in this world will keep me from coming back to you.”

He pulls you in for a long kiss, your lips finding their place onto his right away. You two stayed there for a long while, not parting a bit even for air. As you concentrate solely on Sabo, the sounds around you gradually fade away because you wanted to absorb much of this moment as possible

*bwAAAAAAAHHHP!*

The ferry horn blaring in the air startled you both out of the kiss, a thin trail of saliva formed a bridge between your bottom lips and his. Sabo was the first one to laugh, a cheery and airy laugh that washed away any last lingering anxiety held in your chest. 

“Looks like the crew is mad at me for being late, oh well, it was worth it.” He winks at you. 

He takes hold of your face, gives you a final peck on the cheek, and leaves, knowing that if he lingered a moment longer, he would notice your dejected expression and would instantly falter. You wiped away any more tears that were starting to form and yelled at Sabo as he boarded the ship, waving your arms in the air.

Screaming your farewells, sending your best wishes, and letting your heart run wild. You didn’t stop until you saw the ship leave over the horizon, your arms and throat sore from all the waving and shouting you did. It was all worth it though, you needed to let everything go this moment because you know the next few days, weeks, or even months will be miserable without him. 

And it was…

Every day that went by without a letter or any kind of news from his crew was agony to your very soul. The rest of the Revolutionary Army tried their best to cheer you up or soothe your worries, saying that Sabo was one of their best agents and he always came back from a mission. 

You knew that, but sometimes he doesn’t come back unscathed, sometimes the mission takes a heavy toll on him, whether that be mentally or physically.

Late at night, when he is at his most vulnerable, you can see the scars on his body and behind his eyes. The night terrors that would cause him to scream and claw at his own skin, the tears that he kept hidden from the public, shedding themselves in front of you. 

All the scars, stitches, and bruises that you took care of and looked after when Sabo said it wasn’t that big of a deal to everyone else. You knew Sabo trusted you enough to let his guard down with you, and you never wanted to betray that trust. You witnessed all of those moments and held them near and dear to your heart. 

So, whenever someone approached you and commented on Sabo’s toughness and resilience, saying how he’d be back in no time, you simply nodded along and smiled. Holding your hands to your chest tightly to fight down the anxious thoughts as you wish for his safety night after night. 

Once the second month passed, the anxiety started wearing down your body. Heavy bags under your eyes, a sickly complexion, your clothes being a little bigger on you than normal. Your smile now did little to sway the frowns on other people’s faces when they came up to check on you. You still had hope in your voice that he would come back to you safe, but everyone could see that hope was dying slowly as the days passed by.

Then, finally, a letter came. It was brief and had to be burned immediately after, but it contained news. Both good and bad news for how the mission was going, but at least you knew that Sabo was still alive, and that brought a smile back on your face. Though your heart did sink at the fact that the mission would take even longer than expected now, you did your best not to let this get to you.

Busying yourself with helping around the base, picking up new hobbies every week, anything to distract your mind from Sabo and his wellbeing. And soon another month had passed with not another letter being passed to you. For the past few weeks, your bed has been piled on high with Sabo’s clothing on top, you just needed to be near him in some way. Bundling up to his sweaters and holding his coats to your chest helped you sleep a little easier. The scent was wearing off with each night that passes, but you needed this or you felt like you were going to go crazy. 

“Y/N really, you can stay at my place tonight.”

Koala tugs at your arm, a gentle smile on her face.

“We could stay up all night if you want too! I have lots of card games up my sleeve that I can teach you! Oh! I can even try to teach you some fishman karate too!”

Koala starts to bounce up and down, listing off all the fun activities you two could do together.

You lightly shake your head and try to return her smile back, but she could tell it was forced. 

“Thank you, but I’m really okay alone. I’ll come see you for breakfast in the morning though, I promise.”

Koala lets go of your arm, with a frown forming on her face, but she didn’t push you anymore.

“Fine… but you better come in the morning! In fact, I’ll come over to your room and drag you out myself if I have to!”

Koala gives you a bone-crushing hug that squeezes the air out of your lungs. 

After a few harrowing seconds, you can breathe normally again. You said your goodbyes to Koala and promised her again that you'd be fine for the night. 

You start your trek back to your shared room with Sabo, stopping in front of the door with your hand on the handle. As some part of you prayed that somehow Sabo would magically appear behind the door if you believed hard enough. 

The door creaks open to a dark room, the clothes pile on the bed seems even lonelier tonight, you sigh and shuffle your way in. Throwing your shoes to the side and just gathering enough energy to shimmer out of your top and pants. You crawl up on the bed dressed down to your undies, grabbing a random shirt from the pile and shoving your face in the soft fabric, inhaling as much of Sabo’s lingering scent left on there as you can. 

With no more tears left to shed lately, you hugged the shirt tighter and willed your body and mind to go to sleep. 

A few hours go by before you fall asleep completely, still holding a shirt in your hand as your body huddles next to the heap of old clothing. You barely stir when you hear the door creak open. You turn over on your back as you hear more sounds—shoes scuffing on the floor, rustling, and then a voice that seems so distant.

A hand presses against your cheek, then the voice comes closer to you. With your mind still exhausted, it takes a while to realize that something was happening. You mumble something, and the voice laughs at you. You frown at being laughed at.

Your hands go to swat at the voice, still thinking it was just a part of your dreams, only to hit something surprisingly warm and sturdy. Your fingers start to trace whatever you just hit, pinching and pulling at it. 

The voice snorts at you, gently taking your hand away and holding it in theirs. Your eyes start to fly awake at this moment; a figure comes closer to your vision as you do. 

The figure stops just a few inches short of your face. You lift your head up to try to get a better look as your vision begins to clean up. What was blurry forms of dark blue and yellow soon turned into a real-life Sabo right in front of your eyes. 

Sabo smiles at you, going to pinch at your cheek as he says, “Hey there, beautiful, miss me?”

You gawk at him, your eyes goes wide. “Sabo..? Sabo? SABO!” 

You immediately leap from the bed into his waiting arms, with the heaps of clothing following in right behind you. But you didn’t care at that point, Sabo was back, and that was all you cared about right now. 

“Sabo! Oh my- Sabo I thought you-! I mean- I really didn’t think you be dead but sometimes I- I just worried so much and-” 

Your hurried words quickly transformed into sobbing blubbers, and Sabo listened to it all and comforted you.

“I know, I know.. I’m so sorry for being so late. The mission just got out of hand, and no…….. No, not tonight, I don’t want to talk about the mission tonight. Tonight is all going to be just about you, my darling.” 

Sabo holds your face in his hands, wiping away all your tears as he starts to pepper you with kisses. Sabo kisses you from the forehead down to your lips and nose, then down to your neck, where he also gives you a few bites. His teeth grazing down on your soft skin, with just enough pressure for it to leave a mark.

Your body reacts to the attention quickly, as low whimpers form on your lips. “Sa-Sabo, wait-you just got back and-”

Sabo nips at your collarbone, eliciting another moan from you. He pulls back just enough so he could look in the eyes. 

"Darling, please, I can’t wait any longer. Every waking moment I was on that mission, I was plagued by thoughts of you. I came here as fast as I could just to get to you, I didn’t care about anything else.”

You didn’t realize it before, but now that you got a better look at Sabo, you could see just how haggard he looked, his clothes had dark stains and were torn in some places. His body was covered in scars and bruises, both recent and old. 

“Sabo! Did you not go see the doctor before you came here!? Oh my god, I think you’re still bleeding some places too, we need to go see them right now.”

You make a move to get up, but Sabo quickly pulls you back down and pins you to the bed. Even in his weakened state, he was still overpowering you. His trembling hands press down on your exposed shoulders. You look up at him, much too worried about his condition more than anything else.

“Sabo, you’re hurt… we need to get you to the doctor.”

Your voice was gentle but firm, and as much as you missed his touch, you cared more about his health than anything else. At least that's what you kept telling yourself, in truth, you felt that your own self-control was slipping quite rapidly. 

Sabo leans down to rest his head on the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale of your scent. You feel his hot breath ghost over your neck, sending shivers down to your core. 

"Darling, please, you don’t understand. I need you. I crave you.”

"I miss your scent, your body, your voice, your taste, and everything else about you," he muttered, his voice dropping an octave. His tongue slides up your neck, and his finger slides under your bra strap as he begins to pull it down. Pressing his tongue right over your pulse point, you whimper at his advances, feeling your guard lower with each passing second. You needed this too. How many times did you wake up with wet panties from a dream about Sabo's touch?

.

.

.

Fuck it, Sabo survived worse-looking wounds before.

You gave in, pulling Sabo in for a long overdue kiss. Your lips crash into each other with vigor, with teeth clashing and nose bumping pain, but you both didn’t care about that. Sabo’s tongue slipped into your mouth first, wet and sloppy with no sense of the control he usually has. Sabo moaned at finally tasting you again, drool dribbling down both your chins from how messy this kiss is.

His hands fiddled with your bra for a bit, practically ripping it to get it off of you. His hands then roamed down to the hem of your panties, shimmying them down as far as he could while he was still stuck to you. 

With you being almost fully naked now, Sabo wasted no time feeling up every inch of your body, his hands squeezing and pinching on your soft belly, rubbing up and down like he was mapping out your body in his mind. You squealed into his mouth when he squeezed you, feeling a little bashful about your body now.

You turn your head to break away from the kiss for a moment, trying to say something, but Sabo didn’t let you escape his grasp for too long. Quickly maneuvering himself between your legs as he literally tears the panties off of you with his bare hands. 

They were such a cute pair too…

He pins you down by the shoulders again as he takes over your mouth, snaking his tongue in as far down your throat as he can. He grunts as he pins both of your hands above your head and cuffs them with just one of his. 

You struggle and move from beneath Sabo, but his grip renders your arms useless. Even your legs are useless as you flail them around. Any more attempts would only further wear you down, you could only give in at this point. Letting Sabo take total control of you right now, allowing your mind to become clouded by desire as you feel every movement of his tongue. 

Sabo gives you some mercy, after a while, breaking the kiss and letting you have air again. You take in a few gulps of air and look at your lover, whose chin was absolutely covered in slobber now. His eyes aflame with desire, looking right back at you, held no shame for how he was acting. 

Sabo continued his assault on your neck, licking and nibbling at every square inch of your skin while keeping you pinned. Covering you in love bites that would be a pain to cover up in the morning later.

“Sa-Sabo, slow down a bit, nggh-please?” 

You did want him badly, so fucking badly, but Sabo was acting a little bit differently than he usually is tonight. Your worries start to creep their way in through the fog inside your brain. 

You feel Sabo shake his head against your neck, his free hand dragging down your side, fingers pushing against the softness of your body. All the way down to the side of your hips, his thumb circling right above your cunt. 

“Can’t slow down, need ya’ too badly.” Sabo whispered out. His nose presses against the curve of your neck as he pushes his thumb down onto your clit. You shudder out a moan at the feeling, eyes fluttering down as Sabo works his magic on your cunt. 

“Just enjoy it, my love. And, let me enjoy you…”

His thumb swirls and flicks at your precious little nub, getting it to be nice and hard. His other fingers swipe at your folds, coating them in your slick. Barely pushing the tips of his fingers in your opening, just teasing you with each stroke of his hand. 

“You’re tighter than normal, didn’t touch yourself when I was gone?” Sabo asked in a slightly strained voice. After that, he tilts his head downward and bites your collarbone too forcefully, causing a bit of blood to seep from the wound.

You mewled out in pain at the increasing amount of bite marks Sabo was giving you. Sabo's face falters at this, and making an apologetic noise from the back of his throat. He soothes your pain by licking at the wounds, his hot tongue lapping up the crimson liquid quite greedily. You crane your head backward, allowing Sabo to lick at every other wound he gave so far, his thumb slowly increasing pressure on your now swollen clit.

A brief thought then passes through Sabo’s mind: ‘What if you got with another man while he was gone?’ 

“Answer me, darling. Did you or did you not play with yourself when I was gone?”

Sabo trusted you with his life and all his secrets, but his insecurities did get the best of him sometimes, rearing their ugly head in the worst moments. 

You were too focused on trying not to cum too fast from his fingers that you didn’t really hear his question. Biting your lip to try to keep yourself in check. Your silence only made Sabo more anxious, he upped his tactics. Moving down and latching his lips onto your nipple and sucking harshly. Your body arched off the bed, colliding with Sabo’s, who was gently using his teeth on your now hardened bud. 

He pushed his fingers about an inch inside your cunt, only two for now, he wanted you to work for more. Moans and whimpers came from you, soft pleas for him to stop teasing you and fuck you already, it’s been too long. 

Sabo shakes his head, unlatching from your breast and curling his fingers deeper inside your cunt. 

“Not until you answer, darling~, did anyone touch what’s mine while I was gone, hmm?”

“Huh-ngghh! Sabo-please!” 

Before you even had the chance to think about your answer, Sabo starts plunging his fingers in and out of your wetness at a skillful pace, letting go of your wrists as well so he could cup your face to make you look at him. 

“Answer. Me. Love.”

Your eyes try to focus on Sabo and answer his question, but the heat pooling up inside your belly was getting too much to handle. You were only focused on how Sabo's fingers were long, how rough he was going, how his fingers hit all the right places inside you, and how much you wanted him to fuck you right away. 

"N-no, mmph-ngh-I-fuck."

You mumble out an answer as best you could, your breath shaky and unstable, as your whole body began to tense up for the oncoming orgasm. 

Sabo’s lips twitch upward at your answer, “No? So, no one touched this pretty, pretty pussy while I was gone. Are you certain? He cooed in a mocking tone. 

He squeezed your face a bit as drool dribbled out of your mouth and onto his fingers. Your eyes were closed, and you moaned pathetically, just wanting to focus on feeling good, but Sabo didn’t let you. You opted to just shake your head to answer him and just let go of your body’s control and let the orgasm wash over you.

“Ah-hah-mghmm-fuck! Sabo!”

You cum all over Sabo’s fingers, soaking the bedsheet beneath you. Your mouth falling open as you feel your body instantly relaxing and falling limp under Sabo. In the aftermath, your head falls back onto the pillow and your legs twitch slightly. Everything about you feels heavy now, your mind is already spent after one orgasm. 

Too bad Sabo wasn’t going to let you off that easily. 

Sabo lets go of your hands, leaning back on his knees as he starts to take off his clothes. Through your blurry vision, you could somewhat make out Sabo towering over you in this position, your cunt throbs at the thought of what is to come. 

“Fuckin hell- this is taking too long.” After undoing the first few buttons on his shirt, Sabo got annoyed at how slow this was taking.

Then, in Sabo's hand, a tiny fire appeared. It quickly leaped onto his chest and spread thinly down his body. Burning the troublesome buttons right off, along with some of his pants. Sabo quickly rips off the remaining burned garments. 

In one fluid motion, Sabo grabs your legs, pushing them apart and huddling himself right between them. His newly freed cock, hard and dripping, was now pressed against your thigh. Smearing the precum on your soft skin as he climbs over your body to fully face you. His hair falling down to his eyes, his usually kempt appearance now switched to one of a wild animal. 

He grabbed his cock and started rubbing the tip of it right on top of your clit, tapping against the sensitive swollen bud a few times to see your reaction. Then he pushes forward, sliding his cock in between your folds but not entering just yet. 

Getting your juices mixed in with his precum as he keeps on sliding back and forth, using your own slick as makeshift lube to cover up his cock. Sighing heavily at the feeling, Sabo fought his self-control to just plunge himself deep inside you, he still felt like he needed to get you more wet before he could enter. 

Rocking his hips back and forth on top of you, Sabo let his cock rub up all against your wet cunt, barely teasing it inside on some swings. The thick tip of his cock brushing up against your clit, making you feel his pulsing veins as he drags it back down. Sabo enjoyed seeing how your pussy fluttered against his cock when he was teasing you like this. 

You were getting more impatient with each passing, you needed him to fill you up, to remind you who you belonged to. 

“Sabo! Please, please, just fuck me already. I need you bad! Please!” 

You whimper and mewl out his name and try to wiggle your hips in an attempt to get his cock inside you faster. Sabo’s last remaining shred of self-control broke in that moment. Watching and listening to you beg for his cock just made everything in him snap. He spits down right on top of your cunt and his cock, rubbing the savlia in with his hands as he used two fingers to spread open you open.

Easing the tip of his cock in the opening little by little, really feeling much, he was stretching you out. He leans over more so his cock could get in just the right position to pound you fully. 

“Fuck… darling, you’re so good to me. So, so good to me.” Sabo grunts out as his cock was halfway deep inside of your cunt. Already feeling pussydrunk from how tight and warm your pussy was making his cock feel. He captures your lips with his once again, greedily stealing all of your gasps and whimpers as his cock fully sinks inside you. His hands grab you by the hips as he begins to slowly fuck you, the pace steadily increasing speed with each thrust. You feel Sabo moan in your mouth, his tongue going slack as he starts to focus more on pounding your cunt. 

You definitely felt the weight and the girth of Sabo’s cock in this moment. The stretch was a bit painful at the start, and the pace he was going at made you see stars. His cock was filling you up like never before. You felt like a virgin from how your pussy felt around him. Your hands clamber up to his shoulders, and your nails dig into his back as you try to steady yourself from how rough Sabo was going. The bed underneath you two shook heavily, and some articles of clothing fell from the pile as Sabo kept on ramming you. 

Sabo was gone at this point, the only thought in his head was breeding you, fucking you, and keeping his cock inside you at all times. Even in the small window where he had to pull his cock back, Sabo hated the feeling of not being squeezed by your cunt. 

“Fuck, fuck, yes, yes, yes! Mine, mine, mine, you’re mine, this pussy is mine. All mine, mine, mine!”

Sabo rambles on and on, repeating the word “Mine” a lot, his hips repeatedly slamming into yours, his hands roaming all over your body. Sabo’s hand felt like lava on your skin, in fact, Sabo’s whole body was heating up immensely. The entire room felt like a sauna at the moment, with steam rising to the ceiling. 

You felt the pleasure really start to increase inside you, your nails dug in deeper on Sabo’s back, clawing all the way down as you lost your mind. 

“Sabo, nghh, hahhh-ah! Mm-more! Yes!”

Your vision goes white as you reach climax, your legs go to hook around Sabo’s back, bringing him impossibly closer to you. Sabo groans as your cunt spasms around his cock, trying to milk every single drop out of him. He came soon after you did, spilling his hot seed inside of you. 

Everything was hot, too hot, you felt like you could melt into a puddle on the spot if it got any hotter. You felt sweat everywhere on your body, and you could feel it dripping off of Sabo as well, little beadlets of sweat dropping down on your chest as Sabo hovers above you. His breathing slow and heavy, his eyes meet with yours, and you muster up a tired smile in response. 

He smiles back, pulling forward to give you a chaste kiss on the lips before saying. 

“We’re not finished yet, you know that, right, my love?” 

A mixture of fear, excitement, and anticipation coiled through you, you didn’t know if you could handle another fucking like that, but your body was saying otherwise. Your pussy clenched at the thought, and Sabo felt that, with his cock still buried inside of you. 

“I knew you were ready for another round.” He said cheekily. 

You try to lean up on your elbows, only to find yourself lacking the energy to do even that. Falling right back down on the pillow, you look up at Sabo, biting your lips in contemplation. 

“Could you at least go slower this time? Please?” Your voice a little hoarse and meek. 

Sabo pats down your sweat-soaked hair and smiles brightly at you. “Don’t need to ask twice, baby. I’ll go extra slow for you, just relax and lay back. I’ll do all the work.” He coos at you gently, going in and burying his face in the nook of your neck. 

Taking in a deep inhale of your scent and licking up some of the sweat that pooled up on your skin. Sabo moans deeply at your taste, making you blush from embarrassment. Sabo placed his palms down on the bed and heaved himself up on them. So, he could look down at your expression as he started to slowly roll his hips forward once more. 

Dragging his cock deeper inside your sore cunt, your eyelashes fluttering down at the feeling. The stretch wasn't there anymore, but you could feel bruises forming from the earlier slamming. 

Sabo’s eyes didn’t leave your face as he continued on, enjoying all the cute expressions you were making. This was making you feel a bit self-conscious, and you turned your head away and tried to muffle any noises. 

Sabo had none of that and gently grabbed your chin and pulled you back to face him. 

“Look at me.”

Your lips quiver, and you still keep your eyes closed. You hear Sabo sigh softly, his hips picking up the pace, making you moan a little, your body trying its best to match him. 

Sabo’s other hand creeps up the side of your thigh, gently massaging it. His fingers warm and calloused, you could feel all the little scars he had on there as his hands glided up and down on your skin. 

“Pretty girl. Shy girl, so shy. You missed me, but now you can’t even look at me huh?” Sabo teased.

Your ears burn more at this, but you still refused to look at him. 

“That’s alright, you can just focus on the fully feeling me then.” 

Sabo purrs the last line as his hand moves up to the side of your hips, his fingers fanning out to gently rub on your clit. The light pressure on there was still enough to make your body jump from the feeling. Sabo used his pointer finger to rub small, lazy circles on your sensitive nub as his cock sinks in deeper. 

Sabo leans down back to your neck, his tongue lapping over all the bite marks he left there before. Trailing down to your collarbone and then over your breasts, where his breath ghosts over your nipples. His tongue snaking out to lap over your perky bud, circling around it a few times with the tip of the wet muscle. 

You mewl out in pleasure, feeling so full and so stimulated by everything that Sabo was doing to you currently. His cock sitting heavily inside you, his finger still rubbing on your clit, and now his tongue flicking against your nipple. All the pleasure was rapidly building up inside of you once more, but you still needed that push to let it all out. 

Your hand goes to the back of Sabo’s head, fingers in his hair, as you try to push him down further on your chest. Hoping that he gets the hint. And of course he does, his tongue is soon replaced by a pair of warm lips. As Sabo latches on to your bud and starts softly sucking on your breast. His body finally moving again, as he starts to slowly fuck you, his length felt bigger than before. 

Hitting deeper with each hit, Sabo didn’t go as fast as before, but this pace was more than enough to make you squirm. His fingers did not relent on your poor clit, as Sabo switched over to his thumb, flicking his appendage back and forth in rapid succession. 

This was getting too much for you, you began to shimmy your way back on the bed, away from the overstimulating feeling, away from Sabo. Sabo notices this and bites down on your nipple, making you yelp in surprise. His hands grab you by the hips and pull you back, practically slamming you down on his length. 

“Don’t move.” Sabo growled. His mouth still latched on to your poor abused bud, he lets you feel his teeth go over your nipple once more as a warning as his pace gets rougher. 

The sounds of skin slapping against each other and your weak and pitiful cries filled the room, Sabo soon added his own noises as he slurped messily on your chest. Switching from side to side, making sure that each one got their own set of attention from him. 

“Sa-Sabo! G’onn- Gonna!” 

Too fast. Too hard. Too much. Everything was too much for you, you were going to lose it, and Sabo was close behind you. 

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes, oh god-fuck, cum, cum, cum for me, love.” 

Sabo moans unabashedly, lifting up your hips and hitting in a new angle that pushed you over the breaking point for the second time tonight. 

Your hands claw up into Sabo’s side as your vision goes white and you release all over Sabo. This time you squirted all over yourself and Sabo, covering the bedsheets underneath you even more with your wetness. However, you were too exhausted to give a damn at this point.

Sabo was in heaven at this point, feeling your wetness gush all over him was like jumping into the fountain of youth. His grip on your hips didn’t falter one bit, in fact, it only got stronger. His fingers dug into the plushness of your skin and pulled your drained body right up to his, as his thrusts became shaky. Sabo just needed to feel more of you, screw with precision, or trying to find the best spots to hit, he just wanted his cock to as deep inside you as humanly possible. And if there was a way beyond that point, Sabo would find it or die trying. 

“Fuck-mm-haahh, love! Oh my-ngh, gonna fill you up again-so badly.You’re mine-mm, all mine, mine, mine forever.”

Sabo’s eyes started to cross from the bliss he was feeling right now, your pussy was still so tight around him, and you were so warm. Each thrust he could see and hear, both his cum and your own slick come out of your cunt. It was a sight he wanted to engrave into his mind, even if he had to forget everything else to have it there. 

“Mmm-hnngh, hahhh, Oh lo-love.”

Sabo’s eyes travel up to your face, watching you with your fucked-out look. The way your tits bounce, your mouth hanging open, your eyes barely open, but he could still see how absolutely beautiful you looked in his eyes. One of Sabo’s hands leaves your hip as he grasps the top of the headboard behind you, getting leverage as he relentlessly fucks you for the last ounce of power he still has in his body. 

His grip on the headboard was so strong it started breaking the wood there. Sabo was reduced to a beast in this moment, with just the primal need to breed. He feels his heart beating rapidly in his chest, the heat moving all throughout his body, his balls tightening once more, ready to release all his love inside you. 

With a final move of his hip, Sabo buries his cock as deep as it could go and came. His seed spurting out all at once, accidentally ripping a piece of the headboard as he finishes. He lets go of your hip, letting your body drop back down to the bed, your legs trembling and sore from all the abuse that it went through tonight. 

Your stomach felt like it was a furnace now, as Sabo’s cum was still being pumped inside. You felt so full from all of it. It felt like forever until Sabo finally pulled his cock for good tonight, his length twitching a little and covered in a mixture of your and his love. 

Sabo threw away the broken piece of headboard somewhere on the ground and made a move to get off the bed. You watch him wearily as he pushes some clothes aside and moves you closer to the middle of the bed, tucking your head underneath a fluffed pillow and grabbing a blanket to cover you with. 

There was your sweet, gentlemanly Sabo. You close your eyes and get ready to get a good night of sleep with Sabo by your side. 

As Sabo gets back on, you feel the bed dip, and then the blanket moves, but something was not right. Sabo wasn’t getting in to sleep beside you, he was getting under the blanket for some reason. You focus your gaze on the blob moving underneath the blanket, trying to gauge what the hell Sabo was doing under there.

‘Did he drop something? Or did the sex wear him out so badly that he forgot how to sleep in a proper bed?’

Your mouth moves open to speak, but instead a small yelp comes out instead, as you feel something wet move across your thigh. 

“Sabo!”

You lift the blanket up to see what was happening and see Sabo in between your legs, his tongue still out in the middle of a blep.

Sabo smiles at you cheekily, rubbing his cheek on the thigh he just licked, “Sorry for scaring you, love. Don’t mind me, I’m just helping clean you up.” He gives your thigh a wet kiss. 

“Saboooo, I’m tired and too sensitive.” You whined, you knew that any more stimulation on your clit would be too painful right now. 

“I promise, I’m just gonna to clean you up and not do anything else, dear.” Sabo flutters his eyelashes at you, trying his best to make puppy dog eyes as well. Your guard did lower a bit at the sight. 

“Fine…”

You were too tired to argue any further anyway, you put the blanket back down and closed your eyes. Finding the best position to sleep in with Sabo between your legs, you mumble out a goodnight to Sabo. 

“Goodnight, my princess.” Sabo purred, softly kissing a lot on your thigh. To your surprise, Sabo didn’t go wild at all. He was soft and gentle, doing small kitten licks on your skin, lapping up all the stains and areas. Moving to the inner part of your thigh, his hair tickling your skin a little bit, but it wasn’t that bothersome overall. 

Your hand moves down to pat Sabo on the head, absentmindedly running your fingers through his blonde locks, as your body starts to cool down and nod off to sleep. 

Sabo goes to the other side of your thigh and finishes cleaning over there, taking his time to lap up all the leftover creme. Allowing the sweet nectar to sit on his tongue for a bit before he swallows it down. 

Then, he moves up to your cunt, and being a man true to his word. He was gentle with this area, lapping up very slowly, making sure not to touch your clit too much. Just using the flat of his tongue to cover as much area as possible with each swipe. The feeling was oddly comforting in a way to you. 

You fell asleep far before he was done with cleaning, your hand still laid on top of his head. Your body softly snoozing away, with Sabo’s hand on your stomach feeling the rise and fall of your chest with each breath you take. 

When Sabo was done with his job, he shifted his body upward just a bit so he could lay his head on your stomach. Not wanting to accidentally shake you awake, he was fine with cuddling you here under the blanket together. 

His eyes flutter closed for the last time tonight as he holds your hand in his.

.

.

.

Morning comes quietly, you were the first to wake up, finding your body extremely sore but happy at the same time. You stretch your arms out and let out a big groan, feeling your shoulder muscles being pulled. You feel something move under the blanket and lift it up to find Sabo, sleeping comfortably on top of your stomach. He was like a heat pad for you all throughout the night. 

He nuzzles his cheek on your stomach closer when you try to poke him away. You huff at this, knowing that he was probably awake the moment you were. You poke his forehead again, Sabo jokingly bites at it in return. You pinch his cheek in retaliation, giggling at his reaction. 

“Come on, I feel gross and sticky. I need a shower. We both need showers, actually.” 

You make a move to get off the bed, but Sabo pulls you back in by wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“Nooo, stay.” Rubbing his face on your belly as he whines quietly.

You ruffle his hair and sigh, smiling at your lover’s silly antics. With the sunlight coming in the room, you could see just how bad some of Sabo’s injuries were now, along with the multiple bruises and marks littered across your body. 

“Come on, we both need to go to medical anyway. I’ll help you wash up in the shower if you get up now.”

Sabo’s ears perk up like a puppy’s, and he eagerly looks up at you with awaiting eyes. 

“You promise?” 

“Yes, dear.” You lean down for a kiss, lingering on his lips for a second as you look into each other's eyes. Sabo leans back in for a longer, more passionate kiss, his hand going to the back of your nape. Softly biting at your bottom lip as his tongue tries to sneak in your mouth. You shake your head but your body didn’t deny the need for him again. 

‘What about we do a quickie, then shower, and then I promise to be a good boy and go to medical?’ Sabo blinks his wide eyes at you as his hand lowers to your thigh, squeezing it softly. 

Your brain fights for an answer, the horny side really wants to do it again, but the rational side says that you should take him to medical sooner than later. 

“I-”

“GOOD MORNING WORLD! TIS IS I! KOALA HERE TO TAKE MY LOVELY FRIEND TO BREAK-EEEEEEEEEE!”

You were interrupted by Koala bursting into the room, all merry-like. You forgot that about the breakfast thing… and now she sees you and Sabo, butt-naked in bed together. 

“Sabo?! You’re back and you’re naked! Oh my god-sorry-I gotta take this call and goodbye!”

As quickly as she burst in, Koala left. Leaving a snickering Sabo leaning over on top of you. 

You soon join him in laughter. Though your cheeks were tinged pink with embarrassment, it was good to have Sabo back. Everything was the way it should be now. 

Well, except for Koala’s poor eyes.

[livelaughlovesubs]

Hiii, Nini! Can I please request a Sigma x male reader fic with impact play? We've seen Sigma in fics getting absolutely decimated by the reader LMAO- I almost feel bad, so here's a twist, this is light impact play. Instead of spanks/floggers he can brace for, nope, feathers that make him jump out of his skin every time, giggling despite himself because wtf he's taken so much worse-. I think he'd absolutely lose it with the lighter/gentler stuff more so than the harder stuff purely because of how flustered he'd get XD. Ps I'm making it canon, you cannot look at him and tell me that stressed-as-hell man ain't ticklish.

Ahhhh so true!!! I imagine him as very sensitive and ticklish as well, like 🤤🤤 also since the gender wasn’t mentioned anywhere, you can interpret it however you want :]

Dom!reader x sub!sigma - reader is gn neutral

Warning: tickling/soft impact play, teasing, humiliation, slight dacryphilia (can’t write a fic without good’ol dacryphilia), using his hair as a brush???

Edit: started & finished this in the middle of the night, I’m so tired and I didn’t proof read it, also my brain is cooked idk what I did here

It’s been too quiet these days. Too boring, too mundane, too relaxing. There were many adjectives that would fit this little dilemma you were facing, called ‘dying of boredom’. You’ve been waiting around for your sweetheart to make a mistake, just so you’d have a reason to punish him. Yet how could it be that he’s so perfect in every way possible? You weren’t even exaggerating or meaning to sing his praises, heck you wanted him to be a little more human!

Otherwise you couldn’t think of a good reason to pull him out of his busy schedule, just to have him all to yourself, in such a selfish way. He wouldn’t agree, everyone knows how he puts his work above everything else. Such a horrible work ethic he has. Whatever, no one is perfect, even the manager of the sky casino will have to slip up somewhere, and you were way too eager to find it.

Sigma was just signing some documents as you watched him over his shoulder, taking sneaky peeks as if he hasn’t noticed you already. At this point he was probably wondering what you were doing. It didn’t bother you in the slightest, in fact, you knew due to you being so close, he’d get nervous and overthinking again. Something along the lines of: Did you want something from him? Why were you watching him all silently, so creepily?

And there it was— what you’ve been waiting for! “Sigma~ gosh, you clumsy thing! You wrote down the wrong date there, look.” You pointed it out a little too enthusiastically, eyes sparkling like morning sunlight, reflecting how excited you were. He glanced at you funnily, probably baffled why you were so happy about it. “Ah- yes, I see, uhh.. thanks, y/n.” Sigma furrowed his brows for a split second, then turned his attentions back to the papers. Though before he could continue writing, you snatched the pen out of his hand.

“Nope, you made a mistake sigma, and such a simple one as well. Tsk tsk tsk.” You faked a disappointment sigh, and facepalmed, putting your acting skills to use, “I’ll need to punish you, don’t you think?” So that’s what you’ve been waiting for, and probably the reason why you were so full of glee earlier. “A-are you serious..? For such a small thing?” Sigma looked taken aback, leaning his head back until he met your eyes. A slight blush was already convering his pale cheeks, such a naughty boy, he was excited as well.

“Why of course, it was a grave mistake after all. Stand up.” He was more ready to comply than you thought, not making any fuss as he stood up. “Good boy, now sit on the table.” You moved the chair away, pinning his body between your arms and gripping the edge of the furniture. Sigma glanced at you a few times, seemingly surprised with your demand. To be honest he expected you to bend him over your lap. This was fine as well, in fact, this position would prove itself to be more comfortable than what he initially predicted.

You were close, all up in his intimate space. He swore he could feel the heat radiating off your body. A slight blush covered his cheeks as he waited for your orders, already feeling the effects you had on him. It was almost terrifying how much control you had with just a few words. “Come on, you know how it goes. Strip.” After waiting for what felt like forever, you smirked as you whispered to him. “Ah- right. Sorry.” The boy replied half-minded, hands moving up to unbutton his vest.

This wouldn’t have been all that humiliating if it wasn’t for the fact that you were staring him up and down like some prey, watching his every move as he peeled off one layer after another. “Can’t you.. look in the other way?” He muttered in a meek voice, currently taking his pants off. “I’ve seen you nude plenty times darling,” you reached for his hands and helped him undress, “why are you still embarrassed?”

“You- stop teasing me..” The way his face flushed even more while he desperately tried to shake your hands off was so precious, you couldn’t stop grinning. “Ever thought it’s part of the punishment?” You asked, grabbing his thighs and spreading them apart. They were soft to the touch, and so squishy, his skin was flawless. “Ah-ahh… I’m- I’m really getting punished… over that little mistake?” He bawled his hands into fists, biting his lips to stop the trembling.

“I mean what I said.” He inhaled shakily, and breathed an equally unsure exhale. Eyes glossed over and half-lidded, body burning under your every touch. Poor boy was just preparing for the worst. You gave him a reassuring smile, then raised your hand right over his thighs. So it was going to be spanking, he thought and squeezed his eyes together. To his surprise, instead of the painful slap he expected, he was met with a teasing one. In response his body twitched involuntarily, and his eyes ripped open.

He didn’t flinch because of the pain, no there was no pain to speak of. There were only a soft, faintly red mark that gradually appeared on his inner thigh. Pretty much nothing worth mentioning, you left more marks when you grabbed his skin to spread his legs. “Erm… Y/n?” He couldn’t help but question your actions. That was a slip up, right? He’s taken so much worse, compared to all that you were basically caressing him.

Suddenly, another slap, though just as soft and gentle as the first one, making him jump out of his seat. “Wait- y/n, what are you doing?” It was such a light slap, can you even call it one? Wouldn’t tap be a more fitting description? “Punishing you. Why, do you want to be bullied instead?” You teased, followed by another slap, this time on the other thigh, and his toes curled. Why did this feel even more embarrassing than anything else? The sound was way louder and more dramatic than the actual impact.

“Ah- no but, seriously, what are you doing?” Out of nowhere you slapped his chest, once again it wasn’t painful in the slightest. He tensed together, still able to feel your touch in the places you’ve touched. “Shhh, be good and endure it for me, alright?” Instead of answering him, you stroked his fluffy hair, and smiled all self confident. The look on his face screamed confusion, but he trusted you, and so he simply swallowed the lump in his throat.

You grabbed a strain of his hair, one of the longer locks, sliding your hand through them, a little amazed at how untangled his hair was. As soon as you reached the ends, you held it fairly firm in your hand, and used it like a brush to graze over his skin. First over his cheeks just to annoy him, earning yourself a glare from him, then a feather-light brush over his nipples. He really didn’t know where you were going with this, but god did it rile him up.

It tickled, and it was so foreign, he couldn’t help but subconsciously clench his thighs together. Hands trembling from clenching his fists too hard, the pounding of his own heart echoing in his ears. You made sure to not touch him anywhere except with your hands, which made him all the more sensitive. Those touches were driving him mad, and that fact itself made him all the more flustered. You were barely doing anything, how could it be that he wanted to cry amidst all these sensations?

Soft, muffled whimpers slipped from his swollen lips, he arched his back forward whenever everything became too much. “Hnng- please, ah.. stop the t-teasing…! Hmm..!!” You carefully traced a line down his belly, resting your makeshift brush around his pelvis and moving it in a circling motion. As if all this wasn’t humiliating enough, he now knew why you had him sit on the table. All so you could observe his every move, every shameful expression and listen to every shaky breath he exhaled.

“Look at you getting all excited just from a few touches, you are way more needy than you’d like to admit, aren’t you?” “HnnGh..~ p-please.. ah-!!”He whined again, feeling you finally, finally giving his neglected dick some attention. Only using one finger to lazily rub his tip a few times, before using his hair to brush over the already sticky gland. His precum slowly dribbled from his slit, down his shaft before getting smeared around by you. “So messy.” Was all you had to say.

“Y/n, y-you’re so Mnn.. mean,” he squirmed around, shaking his head as tears rolled down his crimson cheeks, “I-i wanna cum…” you tilted your head to the side, sliding the bush of hair over his inner thighs, “that’s not how you ask for things, baby.” Then you used your other hand to rub his tears away, it ended up with him crying even more. “Such a crybaby, why don’t you try asking nicely?”

He gulped, trying to cease the sobbing for a moment, bending forwards as he let his head drop. The shame was eating at him, but he really couldn’t do this anymore~ which is why he looked up at you like a lost puppy, with glistening eyes and rosy lips, shaking ever so slightly as he begged, “please.. ha-Ahhh…I-i wanna cum♥︎ please m-make me c-cum..!!♡♡♥︎”

You smiled, staying quiet for a moment to raise the intensity and anticipation, then wrapped your arms around his shivering body. “You’ve been so good for me, and good boys deserve to be rewarded.”

[aspenmissing]

I loved your writing about Viktor x Jayce's sister Reader! (aka cockblock brother Jayce xD)

Imagine Jayce leading Sister Reader to the altar and crying like he's going to loose his baby sister forever ;-;

ᴀ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ’ꜱ ᴛʀᴜꜱᴛ

ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ!ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ!ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 5301 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛɪꜱꜱᴜᴇꜱ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ᴏʜ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴏɴ, ɪ ꜰᴇʟʟ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄʀɪᴇᴅ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1 | ᴘᴀʀᴛ 3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ

Years had passed since Viktor and Y/N first crossed paths, and despite the smooth growth of their relationship, there was one constant in their lives: Jayce. As much as Viktor had come to adore Y/N's older brother, the man’s persistence—his absolute inability to take a hint—remained an endless source of exasperation and amusement.

One evening, Viktor and Y/N managed to steal away for a quiet dinner at a local café. The atmosphere was everything they’d hoped for: warm, intimate, and peaceful. The flickering candlelight danced across the table, casting soft shadows on their faces. The hum of conversation from other patrons created a gentle buzz, but it was nothing compared to the calm, content feeling that washed over Viktor as he sat across from Y/N. They had finally found a moment to enjoy each other’s company, away from the chaos of work and the ever-present shadow of Jayce.

But as Viktor was about to pour them both a glass of wine, he noticed the subtle shift in Y/N’s posture. Her eyes flickered across the room, her gaze narrowing in that way that Viktor had come to recognise all too well. She wasn’t just looking around; she was searching for something—or rather, someone.

Viktor, curious but cautious, subtly followed her line of sight. At a table near the far end of the room, he saw him. Jayce.

Though he hadn’t yet been noticed, Viktor knew that unmistakable silhouette anywhere. There he sat, shrouded in the most absurd disguise Viktor and Y/N had ever seen. A trench coat so large it almost consumed him, a pair of oversized glasses that could’ve been made of magnifying lenses, and a hat so ridiculously oversized it seemed to defy all sense of proportion. Jayce was attempting his best impression of a secret agent, though it was anything but subtle.

Viktor’s eyes flicked back to Y/N, who was visibly holding in her amusement, trying not to burst into laughter. She leaned in slightly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you see him?" she murmured.

Viktor gave a small, knowing nod, carefully placing the wine bottle back on the table, as he shifted in his seat. "I see him. He really thinks this is fooling anyone, doesn’t he?"

Y/N grinned mischievously, the corner of her lips tugging up as she settled back in her chair. She had no intention of calling him out. Instead, she had an idea—a wicked, playful idea. They could have a little fun with Jayce. He’d made a career out of ruining their peaceful moments, so why not turn the tables?

"We can’t let him get away with this," Y/N said, her voice low but laced with amusement. "Let’s mess with him."

Viktor raised an eyebrow, a glint of amusement flickering in his own eyes. He already knew Y/N was up to something, and he was all in. Besides, if there was one thing he knew well, it was how to keep a straight face while absolutely throwing someone off their game.

They both subtly leaned back in their chairs, pretending to ignore Jayce, while in reality, they were carefully observing him. Viktor casually sipped his wine, giving the impression that nothing unusual was happening. Meanwhile, Y/N, her face an open book of innocent indifference, kept her eyes just low enough to avoid suspicion but not so much that it looked unnatural.

Jayce, oblivious to the fact that they knew exactly what he was up to, leaned forward on his table, practically vibrating with excitement. Meanwhile, Y/N’s eyes twinkled with mischief. She leaned slightly forward, whispering to Viktor.

"We should really make him think we haven’t noticed him at all," she said, her voice thick with mock seriousness. "Let him keep thinking he’s got the upper hand."

Viktor’s lips twitched in the slightest of smiles. "Agreed. Let’s play it cool."

For the next several minutes, they carried on their dinner as if nothing was amiss. Viktor continued to engage in conversation with Y/N, his voice steady, as he occasionally shifted his position. Y/N played her part, smiling and nodding along, all the while secretly watching Jayce from behind her lashes.

Jayce, growing bolder by the second, began to “adjust” his disguise, as if he were blending into the background like a seasoned spy. He shifted his oversized glasses, adjusted the collar of his coat, and even stood up to stretch in what appeared to be a calculated move to “blend in” with the other patrons. His eyes constantly flicked back to Viktor and Y/N, watching for any sign that they had caught on.

But Viktor and Y/N remained impassive, not giving him so much as a glance. They didn’t acknowledge him directly. Instead, they carried on as if he was no more than a part of the restaurant’s décor.

As Jayce settled back into his chair, no doubt trying to figure out if he’d been detected yet, Viktor gave a quick, surreptitious glance at Y/N. She caught his eye, the two of them silently communicating the shared amusement.

Then, as if on cue, Y/N reached into her bag, pulled out a napkin, and without a single word, placed it carefully over her lap—just like she would if the entire restaurant were watching them. Viktor caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and immediately followed suit, placing his own napkin over his lap. Both actions were so exaggerated, so completely unnecessary, it would’ve been obvious to anyone with a modicum of awareness that they were putting on an elaborate show.

Jayce, who had been watching their every move, seemed to think this was a critical moment in the plan. His eyes widened behind his comically large glasses, but he seemed utterly confused. Was this a signal they were trying to send? Was it a challenge?

They continued this little charade for a while longer, each minute escalating the ridiculousness of the situation, Viktor's cane tapping quietly in time with the beat of a song that wasn’t playing. Meanwhile, Jayce squirmed in his seat, trying to figure out what was happening, all while completely unaware that his cover had long since been blown.

Finally, Viktor gave Y/N a subtle nod, and with a shared look, they both stood up to leave. Viktor’s cane clicked against the floor as he carefully made his way toward the exit, Y/N walking gracefully beside him. As they reached the door, they allowed themselves the smallest of smirks, knowing Jayce would be left utterly confused.

"Well, that was fun," Y/N muttered under her breath, glancing back to see Jayce still sitting there, his face contorted with puzzlement.

Viktor chuckled softly. "He’ll be stewing over that for weeks."

And just as they stepped out into the cool evening air, they could hear Jayce’s voice faintly trailing behind them, still trying to puzzle out what had just happened.

"Did they notice...?"

A few months later, Viktor and Y/N had finally managed to carve out a sliver of time for themselves. After weeks of work and endless interruptions, they decided to make the most of a rare day off. They planned the perfect, simple outing—nothing extravagant, just a quiet walk in the park, perhaps a light picnic by the lake. It was going to be their escape from the world, a chance to breathe in the fresh air and enjoy each other’s company without anyone else intruding on their peace.

They were confident. They thought it was safe.

As they approached the park entrance, the sun filtering through the trees and the distant sound of children playing filling the air, Y/N spotted a figure perched upon a bench near the entrance. At first, she thought it was a trick of the light—perhaps someone else, maybe a random park-goer. But then, as the figure straightened and adjusted his glasses, there was no mistaking it.

It was Jayce.

Y/N froze, disbelief creeping up her spine. She rubbed her eyes, then blinked several times, hoping she was imagining things. But there he was, unmistakably Jayce, in full disguise—an ensemble that made the previous attempts seem almost subtle in comparison. He wore a pair of gigantic, reflective sunglasses that would have been ridiculous even on the brightest, sunniest day. His moustache—no, that thing was not real. It looked suspiciously like it had been borrowed from a wax statue, perfectly styled but somehow out of place on a living person. And the fake beard. The beard. It was so elaborate it nearly touched the ground, a long, bushy monstrosity that clashed terribly with his clean-cut face.

Y/N’s shoulders slumped in disbelief, her heart sinking a little as she muttered under her breath, “Jayce...”

Viktor, who had been walking beside her, followed her gaze and groaned when he saw the familiar face. His exasperation was palpable, but he gave a small, dry laugh. "Of course," he muttered, more to himself than to Y/N. “I should’ve known.”

Jayce, spotting them, stood up and adjusted his absurdly large sunglasses, puffing out his chest with an almost theatrical flourish. His face, framed by the ridiculous fake beard, wore an expression of utter confidence, as if he believed his disguise was foolproof. With a dramatic wink, he gave them both a thumbs-up. “Hey there, you two!” he called out, his voice oozing with far too much enthusiasm. “Just checking in! Can’t let you have too much fun without me, now can I?”

Y/N didn’t even try to hide her irritation. She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing, and let out an exaggerated groan. “What is wrong with you?” she asked, voice dripping with disbelief. “What do you think you’re doing? We were supposed to have a peaceful day!”

Jayce merely beamed, utterly unbothered by the frustration in her voice. “Ah, come on! You’ve got to admit, I’m a natural at this,” he said, gesturing to himself with a grand flourish. “I’m just looking out for you two. Can’t have you wandering off without a little supervision, can I?” He gave Y/N a knowing look, as if to say he was protecting his precious little sister. “And for my baby sister, of course.”

Viktor rubbed his forehead, a deep sigh escaping his lips. The air around them seemed to grow heavier with the weight of this latest intrusion. His cane clicked gently on the cobbled pathway as he shifted his weight, trying to muster enough patience to deal with this. "Why are you always... everywhere?" he asked, incredulous, his voice carrying the faintest traces of a chuckle despite the obvious frustration.

Jayce only shrugged, a grin spreading across his face. “Because, my dear Viktor,” he said, as though imparting some deeply profound wisdom, “I am your eternal shadow. A shadow that must constantly supervise and ensure your safety. What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t protect you from... well, everything? Can’t let you two have too much fun without me. I’ll just be here—keeping an eye on things.”

Y/N exchanged a look with Viktor, one of sheer exasperation. There was no point in arguing, not when Jayce was in full “protective big brother” mode. Viktor, already exasperated, mumbled under his breath, “I need to start carrying a spare disguise kit for these occasions.”

Y/N gave up entirely on the idea of having a peaceful afternoon. “Let’s just go somewhere more secluded,” she muttered, her voice tinged with resignation. She grabbed Viktor’s hand and began leading him down the path, away from Jayce’s prying eyes. But as they walked, they couldn’t help but feel that heavy presence still trailing them.

No matter where they went, Jayce followed.

At first, it was just a few steps behind. But as they made their way deeper into the park, Jayce didn’t even try to disguise the fact that he was shadowing them, maintaining an almost comical distance that felt just close enough to be uncomfortable. Every time they paused to take in the view or simply enjoy the serenity of the park, Jayce’s voice would inevitably ring out from behind them with some unsolicited commentary, often loudly enough for others nearby to hear. He would casually remark on the weather or offer unsolicited advice about how they should be careful not to get too close to the edge of the lake, as if they hadn’t known how to safely enjoy a walk in a park before.

Viktor’s patience was wearing thinner with each passing minute. He glanced at Y/N, who looked like she was about to pull her hair out, and without a word, he quickened his pace. But Jayce was relentless. He kept up, easily matching their speed, his fake beard swaying with each step like some kind of absurdly dramatic prop.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Viktor asked after a while, his tone sharp and almost pleading. He had to make his voice carry, over the sound of Jayce’s increasingly loud steps behind them.

“Nope!” Jayce replied enthusiastically, as though this was the greatest adventure of his life. “I’ve got nothing but time. I’m just here to make sure no one tries anything funny.”

Y/N sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping further. “You’re insufferable.”

“I know,” Jayce said with a proud grin. “It’s my superpower.” He gave a mock bow, only to straighten and puff out his chest again. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

As they approached a small grove of trees, Y/N glanced at Viktor, the plan already forming in her mind. A quiet, mischievous smile spread across her face. She could see the trees and shrubbery up ahead, a perfect spot to escape from Jayce’s prying eyes for a moment. “You know what?” she said softly, her voice practically dripping with sweetness. “Let’s take a break. Just for a minute.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “You’re not actually thinking of...”

“Watch me,” Y/N replied with a wink, her hand gripping Viktor’s arm as they veered off the main path and into the grove.

Jayce, of course, followed. But this time, when he approached the grove, his footsteps slowed. He peered cautiously around the corner, expecting to catch them in the act of whatever “fun” they might be having. What he found instead were two people calmly sitting on a bench, sharing a quiet moment of peace.

But in the distance, hidden from Jayce’s view, Viktor and Y/N exchanged a knowing glance, their plan unfolding. They couldn’t escape him for long, but they could certainly have a bit of fun with his over-the-top surveillance.

"Viktor," Y/N whispered with a small grin, "I think we’ve lost him for now."

For a moment, everything felt quiet. But of course, as expected, Jayce's voice soon echoed from somewhere in the distance.

"Not so fast!"

The day Viktor had been planning for months had finally arrived. Every single detail had been thought through, from the perfect location to the exact timing of the sunset. The spot atop the hill was secluded, the perfect little retreat for just the two of them. The sky was bathed in soft shades of pink and purple as the sun sank lower, painting the landscape with a golden hue. The cool air carried the scent of fresh earth and leaves, a quiet stillness that felt like a moment out of time.

Viktor had poured so much of himself into this day, ensuring everything was just right. The ring, a delicate and beautiful thing he’d spent days designing, sat safely in his pocket, its precious weight a reminder of the significance of the moment. His heart was racing in anticipation, but as he looked at Y/N, he felt a calmness wash over him. This was the moment he’d been waiting for—the moment to ask the woman he loved to be with him forever.

His fingers brushed against hers, the warmth of her skin grounding him. He turned towards her, gazing into her eyes.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice thick with emotion, “You’ve become my world, and every day with you feels like a gift. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You make me a better person, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. To laugh with you, love you, and grow old with you.”

He could feel the gravity of the words in his chest, the sincerity of everything he was about to say. He reached for her hands, squeezing them gently.

“Will you—”

Before he could finish the sentence, a voice shattered the moment.

“Y/N! Viktor! What’s up?”

Y/N’s heart sank into her stomach as she slowly turned, knowing exactly who it was before even seeing him. Viktor, too, let out a groan, frustration and disbelief flooding him.

There, standing under a tree not far from them, was Jayce. He was decked out in full hiking gear, binoculars hanging from his neck like some kind of adventure-ready explorer, his mischievous grin shining through.

“Just wanted to see how the proposal was going!” Jayce shouted, his voice echoing across the hill. “Did you pop the question yet? I’m here for moral support! And, of course, to make sure no one’s pulling a fast one on my baby sister!”

Y/N’s mouth dropped open in pure disbelief. She immediately buried her face in her hands, groaning deeply. Viktor, despite the absurdity of the situation, tried to stay calm. His lips twitched, the corners pulling upward in a thin, controlled smile, though his patience was clearly thinning.

“Jayce…” Viktor started, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was no hiding the frustration creeping into his words. “You do realise we’re in the middle of something important, right? Like… a moment?”

Jayce just grinned wider, unaffected. “Eh, moments are overrated,” he said with a shrug, as if this interruption was a trivial inconvenience. He stepped closer, clearly determined to make his presence known in the most dramatic way possible. “But hey, I’m here to make this unforgettable! You know, wingman duties and all. Gotta make sure everything’s going smoothly for my baby sister, right?”

Viktor exhaled slowly, trying to maintain his composure, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. The beautiful moment he’d planned with such care was slipping away, the words he’d prepared now hanging uselessly in the air. It felt like the world was conspiring against him.

Y/N, still standing with her face hidden in her hands, muttered a defeated, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Viktor looked at Jayce again, his patience fraying. He couldn’t hold back the frustration any longer. “I—” he started, but the words stuck in his throat. The proposal had been completely derailed, the intimate atmosphere lost to Jayce’s absurd antics. What had been a carefully orchestrated moment was now reduced to a chaotic mess.

Jayce, blissfully unaware of the awkwardness he’d caused, just stood there, grinning. “C’mon, Viktor, you’re not gonna leave me hanging, are you? I came all the way out here to see this!” His voice was loud and cheery, like a child excited for a school play. “Gotta make sure it’s all good! No one’s messing with my sister!”

Viktor exchanged a glance with Y/N. She looked back at him, her eyes apologetic and resigned. She knew her brother was a force of nature, and there was no escaping him. The two of them shared a silent understanding: Jayce was always going to be around, no matter how much they might try to carve out private moments.

Y/N sighed, rubbing her forehead in exasperation. “You know, I think I’m just about ready to throw him off a cliff.”

Viktor chuckled, despite the situation. “Trust me, I considered it. I’m just glad you didn’t suggest it before I made it up this damn hill,” he said, gesturing with a little nod to the incline they had just climbed. Despite his cane, which helped him walk, he’d still pushed himself harder than usual to make this proposal perfect for Y/N. The pain in his legs had been worth it, but now Jayce’s antics had all but ruined the effort. Still, he wasn’t going to let that take away from the seriousness of his feelings.

Y/N let out a half-laugh, shaking her head. “You’d never catch me throwing him off, though I’m sorely tempted.”

Viktor smiled, his expression softening as he looked at her. He reached for her hands once more, his tone quiet and sincere as he continued, despite everything. “Fine, Jayce, you’ve ruined my moment. But I’m going to do this anyway.” He met Y/N’s eyes, that same warmth in his gaze, the love never faltering. “Will you marry me, Y/N?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at his words. In that moment, despite the chaos, everything felt right. The sky, the landscape, Viktor—nothing else mattered. She smiled softly, the weight of his question finally sinking in. “Yes, Viktor. Yes, I will marry you.”

Behind them, Jayce let out a dramatic cheer. “Now THAT’s what I’m talking about!”

Viktor chuckled softly, his face lighting up with relief and joy. “You’re impossible, Jayce,” he muttered under his breath, but his tone was fond, resigned to the fact that his best friend—and Y/N’s older brother—would always be a part of the picture, no matter how chaotic.

And Y/N, her smile growing wider, whispered to Viktor, “You know, this isn’t quite how I imagined it, but it’s perfect.”

Viktor leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, the overwhelming feeling of love flooding over him. “It’s perfect because it’s ours.”

The day Viktor and Y/N had long awaited had finally arrived—their wedding day. Every detail had been meticulously planned to perfection, from the delicate flowers that adorned the church to the soft, soulful music that filled the air. The sun shone brightly outside, casting its golden rays through the stained glass windows, creating a warm, ethereal glow inside. It was supposed to be the most perfect day of their lives, the culmination of years of love, struggle, and unwavering devotion.

Y/N stood in the back room of the church, a vision in her white dress, the delicate lace and flowing fabric hugging her figure with an elegance that took Viktor’s breath away every time he saw her. Her heart pounded with excitement, joy, and a touch of nerves, swirling within her as she took in the moment. This was it—the moment she would marry Viktor, the man who had captured her heart in ways she hadn’t even known were possible.

Viktor stood at the altar, looking every bit the handsome groom. He was tall, his posture straight as always, though there was a quiet tension in his stance. He adjusted his tie nervously, his fingers brushing against the polished cane that helped him steady himself. There was a quiet strength in him, but today, as he awaited his bride, even Viktor seemed a little more vulnerable than usual. His gaze flicked to the door, eagerly waiting to see her, to finally hold her, and to promise to spend the rest of his life with her.

=

The soft murmur of the congregation drifted through the air as Y/N stood just outside the church doors, her heart pounding in her chest. She could hear the music begin to swell, the sweet notes of the strings filling the space with their soft, lilting sound. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Today was the day she would marry Viktor, the man she had loved for so long, the one who had captured her heart in ways she never thought possible.

Her dress felt like a dream, the delicate lace and silk flowing around her as she stood still in the vestibule, waiting for the moment when she would step out and into the life she had chosen. It was surreal, standing here on the precipice of forever, her life about to change in ways she could hardly comprehend.

And then, she heard it—the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching.

Y/N looked up just in time to see Jayce emerge from around the corner. His expression was unreadable for a moment, but as his eyes met hers, it softened, and she could see the familiar mix of pride, love, and a tinge of sadness in his gaze. He paused in front of her, his hand resting briefly on the doorframe as he took her in.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly, his voice betraying a slight tremor, though he did his best to mask it.

Y/N smiled gently, her eyes glistening. “I think so. But I can’t believe it’s actually happening. It feels like we’ve been planning this for forever.”

Jayce chuckled, but it was a bittersweet sound. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” He stepped closer, the usual confident, protective older brother posture replaced by something more vulnerable. “You’re really going through with it, huh?” he teased lightly, though the jest was strained.

Y/N let out a soft laugh, the sound a mixture of joy and nervousness. “Yes, I am. I can’t believe it, either. I’m about to marry Viktor.”

Jayce blinked, clearly struggling with the weight of the moment. His eyes dropped for a moment, but when they met hers again, the intensity was unmistakable. “You know, Y/N…” His voice faltered slightly as he reached for her hand, his fingers trembling with emotion. “I’m really proud of you.”

Y/N squeezed his hand gently. “I know. And I’m proud of you, too, Jayce. You’ve always been there for me. No matter what.”

Jayce cleared his throat, blinking rapidly as he fought to keep his composure. He looked at her with a mixture of pride and something else—something almost painful. “I just… I never thought this day would come, you know? I’ve always looked out for you, always protected you. But now…” His voice trailed off, and he swallowed thickly.

Y/N’s heart ached for him. She could see the rawness in his eyes, the way he struggled to let go of the little sister he had always protected. She reached up to gently touch his cheek, offering him a soft smile. “I’m not going anywhere, Jayce. You’ll always be my brother. You’ll always have my back, and I’ll always have yours. That won’t change.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Jayce’s lips, but it was laced with bittersweet emotion. “I know. I guess I’m just not ready for you to go yet. But you’re right. You’re still my sister. And I’ll always be there for you.”

Y/N leaned in and kissed his cheek softly, her voice low and tender. “I’ll always need you, Jayce. Even if I’m married. You’re not losing me.”

Jayce’s hand gripped hers tightly, and for a long moment, neither of them said anything. They simply stood there in the quiet space before the ceremony, the weight of the moment settling around them like a heavy fog.

But then, just as quickly, Jayce let out a small, shaky breath, trying to steady himself. “Alright,” he said, his tone returning to something more familiar, though there was still a tenderness in his words. “I’ve got to let you go, don’t I?”

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart full. “I’m still here. And always will be.”

Jayce took a deep breath, standing up straighter, the vulnerability slowly giving way to a more confident stance. He nodded, wiping his eyes quickly with the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Alright. Let’s do this then.”

As Y/N turned to walk toward the doors, Jayce stepped beside her, offering his arm with a look of quiet pride in his eyes. “Ready?” he asked, his voice stronger now.

Y/N took his arm, squeezing it gently, and nodded. “Ready.”

=

With one final deep breath, they both turned toward the doors. As they swung open, the light from the outside world flooded in, bathing them both in its warmth. The congregation fell silent as Y/N, arm in arm with Jayce, took her first step into the church. The soft rustle of her dress, the faint click of her heels on the polished floor, and the quiet murmur of the music surrounded them as they made their way down the aisle, all eyes on them.

Jayce kept his gaze straight ahead, but his grip on her arm was firm, a silent reassurance that he was right there beside her, as he always had been. Y/N’s heart raced with anticipation, each step feeling like a dance between the past and the future. She looked ahead at Viktor, standing at the altar, his face a mix of emotion—love, pride, and a hint of nervousness as he awaited her arrival.

Jayce gave her arm a gentle squeeze, his voice barely above a whisper. “You look stunning,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N turned her head toward him with a soft smile. “Thank you, Jayce. I’m glad you’re here with me.”

He nodded, his expression softening before it returned to the task at hand. As they neared the altar, Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, and she felt a flutter in her chest. Viktor’s gaze was unwavering, his eyes locked on hers with a mixture of adoration and something deeper, more meaningful.

When they reached the altar, Jayce gently placed Y/N’s hand into Viktor’s, his fingers brushing against Viktor’s for the briefest of moments. He met Viktor’s gaze with a look that was both intense and sincere, the years of sibling protection and love woven into the unspoken words that passed between them. There was no need for further explanation—just a single, resolute nod.

Jayce’s voice, low but unwavering, was the final unspoken seal on the moment. “Take care of her,” he said, his words carrying the weight of years spent watching over his little sister. His eyes softened as he added, “She’s yours now, Viktor. I trust you with her.”

Viktor’s grip on Y/N’s hand tightened just slightly as he returned the gaze, his own voice filled with a promise that could not be broken. “I will, Jayce. I will love her, protect her, and be there for her always.”

Jayce gave a final nod, his eyes flickering between Viktor and Y/N, as if absorbing the enormity of what was happening. He stepped back with a soft sigh, his usual bravado replaced with a quiet solemnity that came with the knowledge that his little sister was stepping into a new chapter of her life.

As Jayce moved to the side, he gave Y/N one last look, a mixture of pride, sadness, and love in his eyes. She offered him a small, reassuring smile, a silent promise that no matter where life took them, they would always have each other.

The ceremony continued, but for that brief moment, the only thing that mattered was the passing of the torch—Jayce’s silent recognition that Y/N was no longer just his sister, but Viktor’s partner, his responsibility to love and protect. Jayce’s role was shifting, but he would always be there, watching over them, a silent protector from the wings.

Viktor, now holding Y/N’s hand, looked down at her, his eyes filled with tenderness. “I’m so honoured to be here with you,” he whispered, his voice just for her.

Y/N smiled softly, her heart overflowing with love. “And I’m so glad to be here with you,” she replied, squeezing his hand in return.

As the ceremony unfolded around them, their hearts beat in unison, knowing that this was the beginning of a new chapter, not just for Y/N and Viktor, but for all of them. The ties of family, love, and protection had woven their way into this moment, and Jayce’s role, though changing, would always be part of the fabric that bound them all together.

And when the vows were exchanged, when Viktor kissed Y/N, sealing their promises, Jayce, standing quietly at the back, allowed himself a small, content smile. He wasn’t losing his sister, he realised. He was gaining a brother in Viktor, and that thought brought him peace as he watched them begin their life together.

[cutiecusp]

Finally.

BF! Graves x reader.

Now I know, Graves isn't our fave CoD operator, in fact every time I play as him I get hell in the lobbies still xD but I wanted to explore a best mate drabble I've been thinking of. We all know him as cocky, arrogant... and what if he is, but not to us? And we ask him for help with a problem... warning, this is a LONG one!

(tw. Virginity loss, best friend, hidden feelings, revealed feelings, kissing,teeny blood mention, smut, PinV. So MDNI!!)

"You want me to what?" Came the loud reply from your best friend.

Flinching at the volume, you press a finger to your lips, hoping no one else heard him.

"You know what I'm asking. You've probably done it a hundred times over." You hiss, eyes darting around the canteen.

"Darlin' you know I love you. We've been friends forever, but this, this I can't help you with, I'm sorry." Phillip backs off in his chair, his arms raised in mock surrender, his jaw tightly wound, as if he was going to say something further, but held himself back.

Your cheeks redden. You knew asking was probably the biggest risk in your friendship, but you trusted no one else, and you harboured feelings for Phillip ever since you both enlisted years ago, but always dampened it down due to his cocky demeanor.

"It's just a few minutes of your time, no feelings involved..." You bargain, leaning into the table.

"A few- a few minutes?" He splutters, gaining attention from the other table. He leans into your space, watching the blush flush from your cheeks.

"Sweet thing, the guy who takes your gift should be someone special. Someone you trust to make you feel good. Not a few stolen minutes on base. What's brought this on?"

"I think I'm defective." You admit softly.

"Defective how?" He presses, scooting in his chair, closing the gap between you two.

"No one else I know is a virgin at our age." You state, your cheeks stained pink.

"You go around talking about it with everyone?" He teases, hoping to break the mood.

"This isn't funny, Phillip. Why does no one want me?" You say, near tears.

What you fail to notice is that from the minute you both enlisted together, you've always been Graves' girl. He practically growls at any suitor interested in you, and the grapevine is adamant that you two are a thing. He's just too chicken to act on it.

"You'll find someone, doll." He says easily, like he's not worried about your status.

"Maybe I'll ask Ghost, he seems nice enough." You say, sliding your tray across the table, and standing up, dismissing the conversation.

"I'll catch you later." You call out as you follow Ghost into the corridor. You fail to see a pair of jealous eyes trailing your body as you leave.

A few hours go by, and curfew is approaching. You change into your pyjamas and grab your book, settling in for the night when you hear a brisk knock in the door.

Pulling it open, you find Graves, all dishevelled and mad.

"Tell me you didn't do it, doll." You smell a hint of bourbon on his breath, as he steps into your room.

You step back, shaking your head.

"D-do what?" You ask, but you already know the answer.

"Tell me you didn't give Ghost your body, baby. Tell. Me." He commands, eyes glossy with dutch courage.

"No, I didn't." You admit. You knew he wasn't the one when he turned you down gently and pointed out that someone else may want you and your gift. The very someone barging into your room.

You scoffed at Ghost, but it turns out his premonition was right.

"I.. i couldnt." You admit. Your eyes searching his for the unspoken question you were asking.

He steps into your space, his body close enough to yours that you could smell his cologne you brought him for Christmas. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, and back up to his eyes.

Involuntarily, your tongue darts out to wet your lip, soliciting a deep groan from Graves.

His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close to him, your bodies pressed against each other.

"You know, for the longest time, doll..." He pauses, his fingers tracing patterns over your hips.

"For the longest time. I've never felt like I deserved you. I've watched you from afar take on challenges even I've flinched at. You've taken every deployment, successful in most. You are faster, stronger and far more deadly than most of the team. You are smart, funny, kind.. Your laugh makes me laugh, your heart is.. your heart is generous, and I'm glad to call you a friend."

He pauses, and cups your chin with one hand, while brushing the hair out of your face with rhe other.

"But. I'd be lying if I said that's all I want to be. Your eyes are like pools, that I could stare into for hours, your body fits into my hands perfectly... I just want to dip my feet in and taste you, to see if you taste of heaven."

"I should be the one honoured to take your gift. To pleasure you until you see stars, to give you my body as much as you give me yours. I want to own every godamn moan that comes out of that mouth. I want you." He concludes, his breath ragged in his chest.

"Please." He asks. And one word is all it takes for you to melt in his arms as he swipes his lips over yours gently, his tongue opening your mouth further.

You moan in the back of your throat as he leads you to the bed, barely stopping kissing to lay down on the sheets.

"Tell me you want this, and I'll give you all you want." Phillip whispers.

You nod, and you see him shake his head.

"Words, baby. Tell me." He insists.

"I want this, Phillip, probably have for the longest time. I want you." You admit.

Pulling back, so his body is half over you, he pulls his t shirt over his head, and you observe his body with a smile. Your fingers trace over his shoulders, down his chest and to his waistband.

"Not yet, darlin'" He admonishes gently, undoing the buttons to the top of your pyjamas, exposing the soft skin bare underneath.

He lets out a breath, his eyes darkened with desire.

"Fuck, baby. You are so beautiful." He slides the fabric off your shoulders, the cool air pebbling your nipples, as you take a shuddering breath.

"It's okay, I got you." He says, bending down to place kisses along your soft skin, before taking a nipple into his mouth, and swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud, his hand playing similarly with its pair.

With the other hand, he brings his fingers up and holds your hand flush to your head, effectively trapping you against him.

A whimper tears from your throat as you feel warmth lick your lower belly, combined with the weight of him on you, and the pleasure he was pulling from you, you thought you could burst.

"Phillip, please." You beg, although you aren't sure what you want entirely.

He chuckles against your body, his hand moving from your breast to your pyjama shorts.

"Please, what, darlin'" He asks gruffly, his fingers playing with your waistband.

"I need.. I need more." You admit, eyes wide with lust.

You see Phillip pull back on his heels, and whimper at the loss of contact. He smirks, his lip lifting at the side.

"God, darlin' you look amazing right now." He says softly, almost fully devoted.

He looks at you for permission before he wriggles your shorts down your legs, the moisture between your legs sticking to the soft fabric.

"Fuck, baby. No underwear?" He asks, surprise evident in his tone.

You shake your head shyly as he opens your legs, baring yourself to him.

"Oh, she's gorgeous." He whispers, more to himself than anything but you blush regardless.

"And so wet for me, doll." His voice thick with need, his eyes darker than coal.

You watch as he swipes his fingers through your folds firmly, collecting your nectar on his fingertips. He brings it to his mouth and sucks them clean.

You hold your breath as he closes his eyes before noticing the bulge in his jeans. You smirk a little, satisfied you weren't the only one affected.

He leans down, hooking your legs over his shoulders as he licks a heavy stripe from your clit down, pulling a delicious sound out from your lips. He suckles on your sensitive flesh until you pull his hair, guiding him to where you want him. His tongue flat, he takes his time licking building you up to your first orgasm.

It hits you out of nowhere, your eyes tightly shut, your toes curled as wave after wave hits you, you try to talk, but no sound comes out of your mouth, just a flash of bright light behind your eyes.

Phillip straightens up, and kisses you, combining your taste in your lips as you return the kiss deeply.

"You OK, darlin'" He asks, a little cockily.

"You look proud of yourself." You retort.

"I just got the prettiest girl in the world to come on my face, I'd say I'm pretty proud of myself." He replies easily.

You choke on a breath you had been holding.

"Phillip!" You chastise, mock scandalised

He grins, and heads back down between your legs.

"Phillip, I can't." You protest, your thighs a little sore.

"Gotta prep you, baby. Don't wanna hurt you." He explains, kissing your inner thighs before returning to your sensitive folds. His tongue painting masterpieces over the skin.

You gasp as you feel his finger slowly work his way inside you, the feeling intrusive, but not painful.

"There you go baby, think you could take more for me?" He asks between licks.

You nod, and you shudder as you feel a second finger match the first, but this time pressing down on a sensitive spot.

"God, Phillip.. please!" You pant as he strokes the spot over and over, that familiar warmth in your lower belly as you tighten around his fingers.

"Come for me darlin', come on my fingers." Phllip insists, picking up the pace to match your hips bucking against his fingers.

You squeal as you come, your pussy clenching around his fingers, eyes rolled in the back of your head.

"Fuck." You hear him whisper, opening your eyes, you lock your gaze with his, and find nothing but admiration and pride.

"You looked so sexy, coming on my fingers like that darlin'" He chuckles.

"Almost came in my jeans."

You look down and you could see a dark patch on his jeans, he catches you looking and raises an eyebrow.

"Off. Now." You command, your hands going to his belt.

He shucks off the denim and fabric underneath, leaving him naked in front of you.

"Do you want me to?" You swallow, unable to look away.

Phillip shakes his head.

"Won't last long if you do, darlin' and I'd rather come in that pretty cunt of yours. I assume you are on the pill?"

You nod and wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him to you, your lips pressed against his as he leads you both back down on the bed.

Your legs spread open as he settles between them, his soft gaze on yours.

"You ready, doll? We can always stop here."

You throw him a look, and rock your hips against his.

"Not a fucking chance." You say firmly.

He chuckles as he slides home, his length stretching you out deliciously. You gasp, and squeeze your eyes shut, and he pauses.

"You okay, baby?" He asks, concern written on his features.

"I'm good, just... adjusting." You admit, opening your eyes.

He slowly rocks his hips against yours, and any discomfort melts away as the pleasure takes over you both. You trail your hands over his shoulders and chest, feeling his skin under your touch.

"Phillip." You whisper, afraid to break the moment.

He looks down at you, your body underneath his.

"Yeah, darlin'?"

"I'm not gonna break, go faster." You urge, wrapping your ankles around his lower back.

He picks up the pace, leaning back a little, knelt at your hips as he watches where you two meet. He watches the creamy ring around the bottom of his cock, tinged with a little pink.

You are his is all Phillip can think of as he rocks against you, your body fitting against his perfectly. You pull his closer for another kiss, changing the position of your hips, taking him deeper.

You both groan at the sensation, the feeling of fullness for yourself, and the tight vice of your pussy clamping down on his cock as he guides you to another orgasm.

He brushes your hair away from your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, and glossy eyes.

"You feel so good, baby." He admits softly, his hips snapping against yours as he feels you building up to a third orgasm. His fingers softly pinching your nipples, sending a shock wave of pleasure down your spine.

"You gonna come for me, come on this cock?" He asks, smiling at the way you nod.

"Words, doll." He reminds you.

"Fuck, yes, Phillip, I'm gonna come.." You pant, your hips matching his pace as you chase your high.

You feel like you are floating as another orgasm rips through you, you didn't care how loud you were being as pleasure burst through your body.

Phillip snaps his hips to yours, following closely, his spend deep inside you. He pulls you into his body, slowly pulling himself out as he wraps his arms around you.

Sweaty and satisfied, you look up at Phillip, who places a kiss on your forehead.

"I'll run you a bath, thank fuck we have the bigger barracks." He laughs. He pulls himself from you, as your phone chimes.

'Fucking finally. Can you hear you both down the hall.' 👻

You blush and hand your phone to Phillip, who laughs.

"He's right, darlin'... fucking finally.."

...................................

A/N this turned out to be the longest drabble ever. I know some of you are here due to the Matchmaker series, which will be resumed ASAP, but I hope this appeases the writers block Gods! I appreciate everyone's likes, comments, asks, reblogs, it all means so much. ♥️

@xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @livingoutsidethetardis @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @azxulaa @yesornowaitidontknow @enjisbf @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @evie-119

[ijwrsmff]

Hey, i hope ur having a good dayy...heard yu wanted some yandere arcane asks...how about vi(romantic) with a naïve piltover darling (generally soft and clumsy as well) fem reader please!!💖💕

Thank you so much that's so sweet!!! I'm getting to requests really late, but I'm doing my best XD thank you for requesting and your patience! Even though it's really late, I hope you enjoy ^^

Soooo glad the second season is coming out soon, I crave it so bad XD

Words: 1,642

Vi was in Piltover, doing what she joked was a small heist. It was just her this time, Vander having cracked down on them all not returning to top side in fear of their safety. She made sure Powder was safe first, and left her in the boy’s care. She had received word there was an event going on, a series of stalls and shops along the road. It was the perfect opportunity to blend in and steal from all the rich assholes who could buy out the whole street if they wanted to. 

…That was her plan anyway. 

It started off simple enough, showing up right in the middle of the day when it was the most busy. She paid close attention to the people who looked like they had more money than others…and with how idiotic people could be, it wasn’t hard to tell who could afford the most. Starting off, she took small items they had purchased that she thought could go for more underground. She didn’t expect to be bumped into as a girl fell to the ground. 

As it were, you only wanted to go to see what the shops had to offer. You weren’t paying much attention though, and bumped into something…or someone. Both you and the person fell to the ground, and you looked up at her from the ground as you whined and rubbed the spot on your leg you just knew would be bruised later. She was laying next to you, and you caught sight of her snarl. You jumped up looking her over. 

“Crud! Are you okay? I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you! Did I damage anything you’d bought? I can’t believe I did that again! Gah!” You whined and looked at her as if seeking forgiveness. She looked baffled, and raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I can pay for anything I broke! Here, let me buy you something, too!” You took her hand, and she accepted it. You couldn’t tell what expression was on her face, but you were terrified you’d made a bad impression on this woman. 

“Uh…you don’t have to. I have what I need.” Vi spoke, and she seemed guarded. It was almost as if she thought you were tricking her, not believing you were really being this nice to a stranger. “You hurt, cupcake?” She said, seemingly coming to a conclusion in her mind. She brushed off your shoulders, touch lingering only briefly. Her touch was rough, but it didn’t seem to phase you. 

“I’m not hurt! Not any more hurt than I usually am when I fall anyway…” You mumbled the last bit, and shook your head. “And it’s okay! I insist, it’s the least I could do!” Your smile was wide and bright, and somehow contagious. As soon as you locked eyes with her, she smiled back at you, though her smile was much more akin to a smirk. 

She leaned forward so your faces were near each other, and her eyes glazed over yours and she continued to smirk as she pulled back. “If you really insist, I have something in mind.” Her original mission had subsided in her mind, and it seemed she had a new plan she wanted to see through. She was still being cautious, but she would play along for now. This could prove to be entertaining, afterall. 

You yapped away, Vi barely getting any words in since giving you her name. She didn’t seem to mind though, and listened closely to everything you had to say. It didn’t take long to learn all about you, considering the fact that you told her basically all the important information. It was fun! You got to tell her all about your job, your close group of friends, and your favorite hobbies and pastimes. Vi even asked questions to learn more, despite you not picking up on her prodding more into your personal life. 

She had tried to justify it as gathering intel for her next trip with Powder and the boys, but she was growing more intrigued by the second. Though as you reached the stall she had escorted you to, you looked at her. “Oh! A flower stall! Are you getting flowers for someone? That’s so thoughtful!” You giggled, and looked at the wide array of different flowers local to your home and even exported from further off. 

Vi smirked, before putting on a small act. She sighed deeply, and looked deep in thought. “I’d love to get her flowers, but I’m not sure what kind she likes. There’s too many to choose from, it’s overwhelming…what kind do you like?” She looked over to you, eyes full of mischief. She only smiled wider when it seemed like you didn’t gather the implications. 

“I think these one’s here are the prettiest, and the bouquet has a good variety of flowers! So no matter the room, you can probably make the flowers suit it perfectly!” You thought carefully about your answer, wanting to make sure she could get the best possible ones for the girl she wanted to get them for. It was no trouble, you did bump into her, so it only seemed fitting to help out however you could. 

“I see…” She said, and picked up the bouquet you chose. “I hope she’ll like these.” As she said it in a thoughtful but playful tone, before handing them to you. “So, do you like them?” Her hand was outstretched, and you looked at the flowers in confusion. She could practically see the gears turning in your head, and tried to wait to see if you’d understand. 

“THEY’RE FOR ME?!” You said, way louder than you meant to. It brought a light blush to your cheeks and you pouted at her. “But I’m the one that bumped into you! I should be getting you a gift!” You looked around the booth, and quickly picked up a bouquet of flowers you thought would suit her. Paying quickly, you copied her motion of giving her the flowers. 

“These are for you then! They have colors that remind me of you and your hair, so I guess it’s…a trade?” You thought carefully, trying to decide if you’d be satisfied with a trade rather than providing something to her from your stumble into her. The flowers weren’t very expensive, so it didn’t really seem fair. 

“How sweet of you…” Vi said, a glimmer of something in her eyes that you couldn’t place. “I’ll happily accept these flowers from you, cupcake.” She gave a wink, but by now she knew you wouldn’t understand the undertones of her words and meaning. She’d have to be more direct to get through to you. Stepping up her game seemed in order, but not just yet. 

“Let me at least buy you something else!” You pleaded, wide eyes as you looked around the stalls to find something else you could give her for her troubles. But Vi looked to the sky, cursing under her breath. At the noise, you tilted your head and asked, “Is something wrong?” You sounded worried, and it only made her heart swell further. 

“My sister is waiting for me at home, I have to go.” She seemed reluctant to say it, but started walking away with a glance to you over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll meet again.” To you, the words were reassuring…whereas most people would have seen it as ominous. You barely knew her, but you welcomed her regardless. There’s no way in hell this would be the last time she saw you. 

“But! I have to buy you something else!” You called, jogging the few steps to catch up with her. She had the flowers you had bought her in her arms, and the other items she’d “bought” within her carry pack. She stopped as you approached, you putting a hand on her shoulder. 

She hummed, turning to look fully at you before smirking with a dark glint in her eyes. “Then…” She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek, before playfully breathing into your ear, “We’ll make it a date. Next time, you can take me out on the condition I get to take you out after.” She pulled back, and could have burst out laughing from the shocked look on your face as you blushed. 

It only made you smile wide, “Okay! It’s a promise then! Do I get to pick what we do for our date?” You hopped once in place and waited eagerly for her response.

“Of course, cupcake. Anything you wanna do.” With her final words, she turned, as you lost her in the crowd of people. It only then occurred to you that she had no way of knowing where you lived. What if she got lost and never saw you again? Or even worse, what if you never saw her again? It had crushed your spirit a little, and your eyes cast down as you pouted, walking back to your house. 

Though from the shadows, Vi loomed. She watched you walk all the way home, making note of any recognizable locations and landmarks so she would remember exactly how to get to you. You were a new form of intoxication she’d never experienced. You were pure, innocent. You didn’t pick up on her flirting until she made sure you did, and you never once questioned her attire or why you’d never seen her before. It made her let out a chuckle, as she watched you, almost hungrily. 

You’d see her again, sooner than you’d think…and she’d make sure you could never forget her. She knew it was just a matter of time before she corrupted that innocence of yours, making you hers in any way she wanted…any way she desired. 

You should have run when you had the chance, cupcake. 

[honkytonk-hangman]

How It's Done – Oneshot Version

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Aviator!Reader

Originally posted by unicornships

Summary: “Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean. “Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–” “–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by.

Warnings: erm maybe just some references to sex? jake being jake? language? minions. big warning for minions xD

Notes: Originally I intended this to be a two-parter series, but I wanted to change how it went, so I rewrote the parts I didn't like and made the entire thing into a oneshot instead!!! This fic will replace the 'part one' already on my blog, but I will keep this part up, linked at the very bottom of my masterlist! thank you everyone for being so patient! Thank you @hangmanssunnies, my love my biggest support <3

Words: 11.6k!

“Well, I’ll be damned…”

You pinch your eyes shut and steel yourself at the sound of the all too familiar Texan drawl, hanging on to the hope that perhaps he isn’t talking to you. You’re out of luck though, and moments later Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin slides into the open space next to you at the bar, already posed in a casual lean as he looks you up and down appraisingly.

It makes your teeth grind.

It makes your face hot.

“If it isn’t Mirage. Would have invited you to play with us if I’d known you were here earlier…” Hangman cocks his head, and his lips tip up in an infuriatingly perfect smile. “But one can never really be sure if you’re around or not… and that's before you get in a cockpit,” he grins, but when you meet his eye at last, he looks away from you, toward Penny who seems to approach in the nick of time, saving you from needing to respond.

You blink down at your drink, and finish it quickly, unnerved by what you think might have just been a compliment of sorts from Hangman. You’d been stationed together previously, though you weren’t friends, so you’d been expecting something a little more acidic in nature. You’d heard him interact with other aviators, knew he liked to push and poke them, usually got away with it too. For some reason though, he’d never really gone there with you and frankly you’ve always just chalked it up to not being worth his time. In fact, you’re pretty sure the only times you’d ever actually spoken had been in the sky. To be completely honest, you’re more than a little surprised that he remembers you at all.

You didn’t exactly go out of your way to stand out…

You were naturally quiet, which wasn’t helped by your social anxiety, resulting in most people describing you as extremely shy. They wouldn’t be wrong, you suppose, you did tend to keep to yourself, the idea of having too many eyes on you all but unbearable to you. But if you’d thought a roomful of people singing happy birthday to you was bad, somehow being under the unwavering stare of Hangman is approximately one thousand times worse.

“Penny, my dear… I’ll have,” he stops to glance pointedly down at your now finished beer, adjusts his stance to lean even more and unwittingly makes the muscles in his bicep bulge.

“Five more on the Old Timer,” Hangman says, nodding to the man who sits on the other side of the bar.

Internally you blanch, but externally, you say nothing and give even less away, feeling a little ping of satisfaction that apparently, you know something Hangman doesn’t. Before he’d come along, you’d been carefully watching the interaction between Penny and Captain Mitchell. You’d never met the man before, but you knew how to read military insignia, which at this point, was more than you could say for Hangman, who dismisses him quickly.

You wonder if Monday morning you’ll be able to work up the nerve to tease him about it.

You’re distracted from your thoughts when Penny returns with the requested drinks. You had no real intentions of going and hanging out with Hangman and the others, but before you can excuse yourself, your empty beer is smoothly plucked from your hands, replaced quickly with a brand new one.

“Help me carry these back?” Hangman asks then, jerking his head in the vague direction of the pool table. You frown when he immediately takes off walking, not actually letting you help him at all, all four beers still slotted between his fingers. You find yourself following him anyway, as if he’d placed some kind of spell over you.

Hangman stops ahead of you at the ancient jukebox, looking back over his shoulder at you, nodding in a pleased manner when he sees you trailing behind. He waits for you, gaze never leaving your form, even as he nods to the space next to him. You awkwardly step up to the spot opposite to him, and look past the glass and at the selection inside. Hangman, once more, takes up a lean, this time against the rickety machine.

“Would you be so kind as to select track number…” he trails off as he checks the list of songs, but quickly flicks his gaze back to you, and smiles bright, tauntingly, again. “Eighty-Six?” he asks, but it's barely a question. You nod, and swallow, shifting from holding your beer with two hands to holding it with just one. You carefully tap the chunky ‘eight’ and ‘six’ keys as he watches. The machine’s little analogue screen confirms that your song is next up, and nervously, you look back up at Hangman, horrified to find he’s just been staring at your face for the past however long.

“S’been a while, Mirage.” He drawls, making you blink rapidly and look away.

“Has it?” Is all you can manage meekly in reply, surprised when he lets out a genuine sounding laugh. He hums warmly, and you practically feel it in your chest.

“And yet,” he lifts hand, two beers held expertly between his fingers, but he extends it to tap your nose, almost making you almost flinch.

“You haven’t changed at all.” Hangman grins Cheshire-like down at you, before his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and he leans in even closer while flicking his eyes up and down your form again.

“I don’t bite you know,” he tells you, his voice sounding serious, but his somberness lasts mere seconds.

“Well, not unless you ask me to first, sweetheart,” he winks and his smile grows large as your eyes grow wide and you splutter, flustered.

Your face grows hot with slight embarrassment, a wave of inner resentment at his teasing washing through you.

Hangman laughs, seemingly bored with you now, and he turns to walk back toward the pool tables. Without even looking, he beckons you to follow with one finger on his still occupied hands. For a moment your pique prevents you from doing so, certain that if you were to dip into the crowd now, he’d not care enough to seek you out again, let alone notice you were missing.

You know he didn’t mean it, you know his flirting is just to get a rise, but you also know that he’d never do it to Phoenix, or Halo, and a little bit of you hates yourself for being such a marked pushover. You make the decision now that you won’t let him do it again, if you can help it.

Your eyes travel past Hangman then, towards the pool tables where you can now see another figure has joined the other gathered aviators, and for the first time all evening, you don’t feel nervous to go join them.

You follow after Hangman, but quickly diverge from his path, cutting around a gathered group of Navy personnel to get there faster. As you approach, you take a moment to shake off any lingering anxiety, before gently laying a hand on the faded Hawaiian shirt in front of you, doing your best to keep yourself from bouncing on your heels.

Rooster half looks ready to wave off whoever is trying to get his attention, but when his shaded eyes land on you, he spins his whole body to face you, grinning widely in unguarded excitement as he gathers you up in his arms.

“Miri!” he exclaims warmly, and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you when he briefly lifts you off the ground.

“I was just about to ask Phoenix if she’d seen you yet.” Rooster informs you. 

“Seen who?” Phoenix steps around him, frowning as she quickly glances you over, though it disappears quickly.

“Yeah, that about tracks…” Rooster mutters mostly to himself.

“Nat, this is Mirage, you know her right?” Rooster introduces the two of you, and while neither of you make to shake hands, you only feel friendly energy radiate off the other woman, even as she openly looks you over now, nodding at Rooster’s words.

“Right, I have heard about you… I guess there's no real mystery behind your callsign… I didn’t even realise you were here… Sorry,” she tells you bluntly, but you appreciate her straightforwardness.

“They said ‘Wallflower’ was too long.” You joke lightly, and the other woman smiles. A moment passes between you, and you get the distinct feeling that Phoenix has become determined to never let you go unnoticed in her presence again.

You aren’t sure just yet if you appreciate that, but you are sure that you’ve just made a friend.

“Mirage?” Another voice joins then and you look to your left, smiling again when you see another familiar face.

“Bob!” you move to embrace him too, not seeing the look shared between Phoenix and Payback who watch you in surprise.

“Huh. Figures.”

-

Neither you or Hangman have moved since Rooster and Mav went down. The rest of Dagger had returned an hour ago, mission complete. There was no reason for either of you to be on standby.

And yet.

When the call came through that Dagger Two had been hit, both you and Hangman had separately requested to be launched, to help, but you’d been denied.

As a rule, you made yourself easy to work with, even if those around you were less compliant, and you’d experienced plenty of that, flying alongside Hangman the past few weeks. Whether it was him leaving you to get shot down in training, or refusing to fly as a team during simulations. And yet, despite his habit of ‘hanging you out to dry’ being the reason behind his callsign, deep down, you’ve never once doubted flying alongside him in the real thing like the others seemed to.

You’re glad for that lack of hesitation now, glad that it only takes a single moment of eye contact from across the tarmac for the two of you to understand one another perfectly. Glad that when you got word that somehow, Rooster was supersonic again, you already know his answer before you even ask.

“Hangman? Hondo’s cleared us for take off with the ground crew, against orders. You with me?” you ask quietly, looking over at your wingman, knowing that when you return you’ll most certainly be court marshalled, but unable to sit and do nothing any longer.

“To hell and back, Mirage,” comes his immediate reply.

You see him move in sync with you, both of your canopy’s lowering at the same time.

You ignore the panicked voices ordering you to stand down, long enough for Hondo and the others to get you on the catapult, and by then it’s too late.

In two seconds you’re propelled from zero to over a hundred and sixty, and in your ears you hear Hangman right behind you.

-

“Do you want to get a coffee with me?” The question makes you jump, your drink almost sloshing everywhere. The sudden voice, as well as the person it belonged to, takes you completely by surprise, but you’re thankful he doesn’t draw attention to your startling.

Up until moments ago, you’d been peacefully watching the ocean toss and turn, burying your feet in the damp sand and thinking about what you were going to do with your upcoming two weeks of post-mission leave.

Most of Dagger were a little further up the shore, a bonfire crackling away, although you weren’t the only one to have splintered off. Mav and Rooster were currently standing in the shallows talking, and you think Halo and Phoenix have moved to sit apart from the others as well. You had managed to sneak away easily enough, content to just sit on your own for a while, though your efforts appear to have been mostly in vain, if the man now plopped in the sand beside you is any indicator.

You blink at each other.

“What?!” you blurt out dumbly, not completely certain you really understood what he’d said. Hangman’s lips press into a thin line, and he looks away from you, linking his hands together around his knees, and staring out at the rolling waves.

“Coffee. Would you like to get one with me?” He repeats, sounding only a smidge impatient, but it still doesn't clear up much for you.

“I… No, I heard you the first time… I… I just don’t understand… why?”

Over the past three weeks you’ve been forced more out of your shell than you ever have before. It was torture. It was wonderful.

Part of you pats yourself on the back for being able to ask him so starightly, but another part of you slaps yourself in the face for questioning him.

Hangman turns to look at you apprehensively.

“Are you asking why coffee or why am I asking you?” He speaks slowly and carefully, his face blank and devoid of any hint he was teasing, though you think he might be anyway.

“Why… Why are you asking me?” You push, shuffling your feet in the sand, drawing his attention for a moment. He looks back at your face and frowns slightly, cocking his head.

“Because I like you? And that is usually what somebody does when they like someone. Ask them.” He answers, and this time you definitely get the impression he’s politely trying not to laugh, but for once, you don’t feel like you’re on the outside of the joke.

Still, you find yourself taken somewhat aback at his confession, admitted so easily and freely, as if it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, which confuses you.

“Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean.

“Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–”

“–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by. Especially when for the past three weeks you haven't been able to get rid of the odd heart skips you got whenever Hangman acknowledged your presence at all.

And besides, you weren’t blind.

Hangman was ridiculously pretty, and not anywhere near as much of an asshole as he wanted people to believe.

He looks at you blankly for a moment, processing your words, before his face breaks out in a smile. It isn’t one of his usual smirks or tauntingly pearly grins, though. It’s softer, sweeter, and you stare mesmerised as he looks away from you again quickly, and down at his linked hands, nodding.

Two days pass, and even when you’re sitting across from him in a small, niche little coffee shop you had no idea existed, you feel like you’re in a dream.

You’ve never seen Hangman out of uniform, you realise, and it’s a whole new experience you’re forced quickly to process when he stands to go get your drinks.

Dark jeans, white shirt, casual jacket. It’s a simple outfit, but goddamn does he make it look good. Nervously you have to wonder if your white and blue sundress, sneakers and bomber jacket were having the same effect on him, though you highly doubt it.

He returns quickly, attentively, placing both your coffees down, before folding himself into his chair once more. You both look at each other awkwardly before you distract yourself by taking a sip of your coffee. Hangman seems to do the same, but instead of drinking, he begins tearing into several little sugar packets, and emptying them into his coffee foam.

You huff out a tiny laugh before you can stop yourself, and his eyes quickly snap to you.

“What?” he asks defensively, but the corners of his mouth twitch.

“I just… I guess I never figured you for a sweet coffee kinda guy…”

“Oh, and why is that?” his twitching lips turn into a full smirk, but it isn’t his usual Hangman smirk. You chew on the inside of your lip, and sip your coffee once more before answering.

“I’m not sure. I guess you just don’t seem like the type of guy who…” you trail off, unsure of what exactly you’re trying to say and even more; how to say it.

“Listen, I may have rippling, glistening abdominals, but I have a sweet tooth,” he says, putting on the defensiveness now, leaning toward you and pointing at himself. You pinch your brows together and purse your lips, nodding vehemently.

“I know how to have fun,” he tells you, tipping a third sugar into his coffee.

“Of that I don’t really doubt, Hangman,” you say, but his gaze snaps back to you again, almost sharply this time.

“Jake.” he corrects you.

You pause.

Of course, you knew his first name, but you’re fairly certain you’ve never once used it. Hangman has just always been, well, Hangman. But you weren’t in a cockpit right now, he’d asked you out, this wasn’t the time and place for callsigns. He wasn’t Hangman, and you weren’t Mirage.

“Jake,” you say slowly, carefully, as if he’ll tell you any moment he’s just kidding around. But he doesn’t.

“Miri,” he replies, slow like you, but softer, and it’s silly, but it sounds so nice coming from him. You shake your head and swallow.

“Jake, if you don’t like coffee, why did you ask me out for one?” you ask him, watching as he blinks slowly at you, before his gaze slowly drops to the latte in front of him.

“If I asked you for a drink, you might’ve got the wrong idea,” he starts, speaking carefully. “If I asked you for dinner, it could be too formal, too awkward–”

“–It’s already awkward,” you point out, making him grimace slightly, so you shrug.

“Coffee just seemed like– I just wanted to–” he cuts himself off and drops both hands to the table.

“Look– I just didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding about what this was. I like you. I know you like coffee.” Jake admits all in a flurry, his voice quiet, and his eyes flickering around as he speaks.

For as long as you’ve known him, you’ve never seen Jake unable to maintain eye contact, actually it seemed to be something he took immense pride in, and it always made you slightly uncomfortable, but right now he appears completely incapable, and it's not a side of Hangman you’ve ever seen before. You realise you might be meeting Jake properly for the first time.

You decide to let him off easy, with all the newfound courage Dagger had been feeding into you the past few weeks, and you change the subject.

“You know, when you came up to me at the Hard Deck that first night, I was kinda surprised you remembered me at all,” you say slowly, sipping your coffee and eying him evenly. Jake frowns then, but it smooths out into a cool grin, and he leans back in his chair, cocking his head.

“Are you kidding? I’m always clocking possible threats.” he tells you, making you cough lightly.

“How am I a threat to you?!” you ask in disbelief.

“Oh, I could name a few,” Jake teases, nodding at you, but flicking his eyes away, almost making a show of clocking an incoming group of customers behind you.

You weren’t clueless, you knew you were a part of Dagger for a reason. You were damn good at your job, but still, Jake was Hangman, not only was he an aviator you respected, he was an aviator with very high personal standards, and for him to see you as comparable to him… well truthfully, you find yourself rather humbled.

And then flustered, at his clear unabashed flirting.

“I always thought you flirting was just you messing with me,” you admit, and he grins wider.

“Can’t it be both?” he asks, leaning forward again, and clasping his hands together. He seems to have no problem maintaining eye contact now, you note. When you cold-stare him, he simply shrugs.

“You’re cute when you get all flustered and nervous, what can I say?”

“Literally anything else.” You grumble back.

You finish your coffee and push the cup to the side, crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward like he was. Jake mimics you, pushing his own coffee away, clearly with no intention to start, let alone finish it. You aren’t as good as him with eye contact though, no matter how much you’d come out of your shell, so you take the opportunity to glance sideways out the window, only for your gaze to catch on something.

Your heart thumps loudly for a moment in your ears, and you wonder briefly if you should act on the thoughts popping around your brain right now, or if you should just stay put.

You lean forward even more, and flick your eyes back to Jake who is staring at you curiously.

“Hey, I have an idea…” you start, chewing on the inside of your lip, before standing up. You only hesitate a little before offering your hand.

“You with me?” you ask without thinking, the words the same as the ones you ask time and again to your wingmen while in flight manoeuvres. Jake stares up at you for a moment, before he too stands, your heart skipping when he takes your hand. With a tiny squeeze you almost don’t notice, Jake grins, and nods.

-

“Oh, hey! Stop! That’s not fair!” You elbow Jake in the side, but it’s already too late. The hand he’d shot out to block your light gun had done its job, and where you’d previously been neck in neck for score on the dual Time Crisis cabinet, Jake’s character was now cheering in victory, while your screen was asking you to insert more coins and try again.

Jake chortles and you both slot your plastic guns back into their plastic holsters at the front of the machine.

“We never agreed to no interference,” he says proudly, and you sock him in the arm only half as hard as you can.

“I didn’t think it needed to be said!” you exclaim pointedly. Jake grins down at you, and collects his tickets.

“Quit complaining, all these are gonna go towards whatever stuffed bear or whatever the hell you want anyway.” He rolls his eyes, and gestures to the shoddy ‘rewards’ counter of the arcade you’d spotted from the coffee shop.

“I want the Minion.” You state firmly after glancing at the redemption counter for three seconds, and spotting the big ugly yellow creature on the top shelf. Jake sighs in a put-upon manner and shakes his head.

“See, this is how you know I really like you. I’m willing to ignore that,” he says, and you actually think he might be serious this time. You grin up at him as he takes your elbow, and begins leading you toward the back of the room.

“What are you going to cheat me out of kicking your ass at this time?” you glance around you, goosebumps trailing up and down your arm as Jake lets his hand slide from around your elbow, down your forearm and into your hand, which he squeezes as if in warning.

“I didn’t cheat, I simply used black ops tactics,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. You purse your lips at him and narrow your own eyes back.

“Cheat.” you say again, pronouncing each syllable deliberately.

You come to a stop then, and you look up at the old photo booth machine. Jake pulls out a fistfull of tickets, squinting his eyes at the label with instructions, before looking back over at the redemption counter. He seems to run some numbers before he looks back down at you with a grin, and waves the strings of crumpled tickets.

“My cheating means we can use the booth, and still have enough for a Kevin plush, so I don’t wanna hear no more complaining outta you,” he waggles a finger in front of your nose, and you blink up at him sheepishly.

“Jake– I don’t really want the Minion…” you say, before your voice turns suspicious. “Anyway, how do you know which one is Kevin?!” you lift an eyebrow, only for Jake to roll his eyes and push you into the curtained booth.

You orient yourself in the tiny enclosed space, looking around you as Jake takes a moment to feed several lines of win-tickets into the machine before he follows you. He’s forced to duck down real low, making the space even smaller, and you both stare for a moment at the small seat barely big enough for one person, let alone two.

“Well, either you can sit on my lap, or I can sit on yours, darlin’, but I know which one I’d prefer.” Jake intones lowly, and for the first time in an hour or so, you feel yourself get all flustered again. Honestly, you’d kind of forgotten about the explicitly romantic tone of this meeting until now, and more than that, your stomach begins to flip and flop like the first time you’d gotten in a jet when he eases past you and drops himself onto the bench before patting his thighs.

“Jake, maybe if you just move over a litt–”

“No can do, honey,” and he’s not even trying to tease you, he demonstrates the spread of his legs, and the tight fit into the booth, before looking back up at you expectantly again.

“Okay… Okay…” you say more for your own sanity than anything else, and turn, quickly perching yourself on his leg before you can really think too hard about what you're doing.

Your efforts are for naught though, because the moment you’re sat down, Jake’s hands are tugging you against him further, sitting you more comfortably on the thick expanse of his thigh, and you barely repress the noise that nearly escapes you at the feeling of his fingers digging into your hips.

“There we go, sweetheart,” he says softly, almost to himself, and moves his hands to wrap around you completely. If he notices your little noise, which by his self satisfied smirk he definitely has, he thankfully chooses not to say anything. Your face grows warm, not only at the hold he has on you but at the pet name too.

“Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?” you ask, sounding half bewildered, half incredulous, forgetting for a moment where exactly you were and why. As you look over your shoulder at the man behind you, Jake stares back, his smirk still in place even as his eyes seem to search your face, his own expression mostly unreadable.

“Would you prefer ‘honey’?” he almost purrs, his voice distinctly amused, but you notice that he doesn’t back down, doesn’t apologise or step back.

It makes your stomach twist up in knots. It makes your heartbeat skip like a record.

You turn away from him, shake your head.

“It’s fine,” you tell him bashfully, wanting to grumble slightly when against your back you sense what you think is him puffing his chest a little. Quickly, you add: “Not at work, though…”

Jake chortles, but as you peek over your shoulder to look at him again, he’s relenting, his smirk gone and replaced with a far softer smile as he nods.

“Not at work, though.” he repeats lowly in confirmation, almost making you jump when he shifts one hand to steady you around the waist, his other reaching out to begin fiddling with the controls on the lit up screen in front of you.

“Alright, let's get this show on the road shall we?”

By the time you’re exiting the tiny cubicle, Jake’s hands still attached to your hips as he follows you out, you’re both laughing quietly to yourselves. You’re amazed to find just how much Jake can affect you, either setting you at complete ease or sending you into a tizzy, depending on what he’s said or done. Usually you wouldn’t be surprised by other people’s effects on you, you were jumpy and anxious by nature, but it was rare that somebody who put you on edge as much as Jake did, could also give you such comfort.

When he detaches his hands from your sides at last to survey the sheets of photos spat out by the booth, you marvel at how much you start to miss the contact. With all the subtlety you can muster, you inch closer to him, under the guise of getting a look at the photos as well, though really, you’re only hoping that you might prompt him into reaching out for you again.

Jake chortles and points at a set of two pictures. In one, you’re both grinning madly, pulling silly faces, and in the other, you’re wearing softer smiles, and you notice now, that Jake had pushed his face a little closer to yours. It makes heat rise in your cheeks, not just at the seeming intimacy of the photo, but truthfully, of how much you like seeing the two of you like that.

“You won’t mind if I keep these, will ya?” Jake asks, looking over at you. You simply shake your head, and he grins a little wider, carefully tearing off the two pictures before pulling out his wallet and tucking them inside, for sake keeping, you assume.

Jake lets you keep the rest, and absently, you fold them into the zipper in your purse, too distracted by the fact that he does indeed take your hand again, before quickly releasing it to instead wrap his arm over your shoulder. You can’t stop yourself from smiling a little as you blink dumbly up at him, and he grins down at you, ducking his face even closer to yours.

“Now sweetheart, I believe I was instructed to win you a minion plush.”

-

You try to avoid Phoenix’s hard stare, and focus on wiping down your helmet.

“You’re acting weird,” she finally announces, still managing to make you jump despite your anticipation. You then immediately proceed to do yourself exactly zero favours, proving her point by refusing to look up at her, choosing to instead hurriedly continue with your current task.

“What? No I’m not. I’m fine. You’re being weird,” you argue, wincing at your clearly abysmal attempts at behaving like a normal adult human. You start re-cleaning the pristine surface of your helmet, your nerves conjuring imperfections you logically know don’t exit.

Just before you completely lose yourself down the spiral of unhealthy compulsive behaviours, A hand, Nat’s hand, stops your own. Tugging the cloth out of your hands and taking your helmet away from you, she places it down on the workbench you stand on opposite sides of. Chewing your lip, you at last meet her eye.

“Miri, it’s okay to have a crush–”

“–I don’t have a crush!” You blurt out both far too quickly to be believable, as well as in sheer panic. Your face grows immediately hot, and you can tell Phoenix is trying not to laugh at the show you’re putting on so poorly. Her lips twitch, but her expression softens from amusement into something softer, mixed with traces of pity. Just when you’re starting to debate the pros and cons of sprinting out of the room, getting in your jet, and then flying away never to be seen again, she relents, releasing you from her eye contact and making herself busy as she tidies up bits and bobs littering the workbench.

You swallow thickly, and stay watching her, your heart rate only spiking higher as your anxiety builds once more at her sudden apparent indifference. You follow her movements without moving an inch, sharply aware that not only was she still very much focused solely on scrutinising you, but even more mortifyingly, that this conversation was far from being over.

“Nat,” you say with surprisingly more strudiness than you believed possible, pausing to swallow the dryness in your mouth. “I don’t have a crush, okay?” You wait for her to look back over at you, nothing but disbelief rolling off of her faux-casualty, giving you a bullshit shrug and a smile.

“Okay.” she says. You had hoped that would be enough, but you should have known better. You clear your throat again.

“Nat,” you say, only making yourself louder, as if that was a sign of nothing going on. She looks up at you somewhat blankly. You know you’re totally screwed already as her eyes dip to watch your finger begin quickly tapping on the bench before you with barely any acknowledgement from yourself. “There’s nothing weird going on,” you say, pleading with your voice and face and every atom of your being that she drops it.

She drops something, unfortunately it’s not the subject though, but you still feel some semblance of stress leaving your body as her fake lack of care dissolves, and she leans back to rest against the cabinet behind her. She crosses her arms and shrugs again while letting out a soft, pitying sigh, which this time doesn’t raise your non-existent heckles as much as it had when it first showed its face.

You stare at one another, at what you think is an impasse and wordless agreement to now never talk of this episode in your friendship ever again, but once again, you should have known better.

“If it’s any consolation, I think he has a crush on you too, so it's not like it’s a total waste of energy… despite all evidence to the contrary,” She says conversationally at first, before muttering out the last part under her breath.

“He doesn’t,” you state with so much certainty you almost forget for a moment that it’s not even a little bit true. Instead, crossing your arms too, you feel like a middle schooler having a much too serious fight with her friend at lunch. “We’ve just become closer, like all of the squad have. You’re just noticing it cause you want to!” you’re a little taken aback by the sound logic of your own reasoning, all points earned to your side then immediately becoming forfeit when you can’t help yourself from stupidly continuing to speak. “Why? Has he said something?!”

Your outburst of near-giddy excitement destroys all chances of you walking this back, and you find yourself with only one option left available. But your prior readiness to exit out of this failed interaction at roughly 300 kts/min becomes soberingly not so fun to fantasise about when you sheepishly remember the current charges against you, for the theft of the $70 million dollar military aircraft you’d technically stolen when you and Jake had taken a joy ride to pick up Mav and Rooster.

You're snapped back into the present as Natasha Trace regards you unreadably and slowly lifts one perfect eyebrow at you. You cover your face and hang your head, you reason with your now permanently mortified brain that if you just admitted to the thing she already believed to be true, she’d stop looking any closer, possibly finding out something actually secret.

It helps that your embarrassment for the flurry of extremely obvious questions is very real, and you groan into your palms. You hear before you see Phoenix laugh, listening to her chortle at your outing yourself, but you notice that he demeanour is warmer now, and she pushes herself up to sit on the top of the bench between you, crossing her legs.

“He’s not said a thing, but he doesn’t need to,” she tells you, seemingly glad to just be able to share her findings and observations, which you uncomfortably realise have been going on for a lot longer than you realised.

“It's what he’s not saying,” she explains, and you blink up at her in genuine curiosity.

“Huh?”

Phoenix turns her gaze upward as she thinks.

“He doesn’t make fun of you… or snipe at you, not really,” she begins, resting her head in her hand. “To be honest when we first met, I was expecting to defend you. You’re a good pilot, a great one, but Hangman isn’t exactly known for recognising that in others…”

You frown up at her, unsure of anything to say to abate her suspicions.

She’s not exactly wrong, even when the two of you were first stationed together, he’d never poked fun at you, never really called you out. To be fair, he hadn’t really acknowledged your presence at all, but these days you knew that was more to do with the fact that all this time, Hangman had liked you, had seen you were shy, and didn’t like crowds, and as you’d found out recently, often made more of a spectacle of himself to draw attention away from you.

You have to stop yourself from smiling dreamily at the thought of him.

“And I mean, he disobeyed direct orders for you, he knew what you were doing, and he went with you anyway… I’m just saying Miri, I don’t think you’d be disappointed if you were to say something–”

You quickly cut her off.

“I’m not saying anything to him!”

At last, given your already clear admittance of your supposed ‘crush’, Phoenix relents, holding up her hands and shrugging.

“Just think about it alright? It’s even sort of… cute, in a weird, Hangman-y way.”

You grumble at her, but thankfully she doesn’t bring it up again for the rest of the afternoon. Still, you leave the workshop with a sparkling helmet, cleaner than you think it ever has been, and with a pressing matter to relay to your boyfriend, most of which involves playing it much, much cooler in front of Phoenix the next time you all hang out.

-

You know you’ve made some personal growth when you answer the door in your matching Star Wars X-Wing PJ’s and slippers, and aren’t immediately mortified.

Jake stands there, already grinning back at you, and looking like a greek god sent to earth in his dark jeans and plain white shirt.

“Red Leader Mirage, your rescuer has arrived!” he announces, doing what you judge to be a surprising spot-on impression of Lt. Porkins from Star Wars, shooting a lazily salute down at slippers

Unfortunately, you aren’t given the chance to ask him more about his perfect Red Six however, as he’s almost immediately pushing away from where he’d been leaning against the side of your door, posing for your perusal you assume, and holds out a brown paper bag for you to take. You swipe it, and shoot him a thankful smile.

“Thank you, Jake, really…” you side-step his self-congratulatory jokes, but he doesn’t seem phased, simply shrugging, and taking a step closer to you, letting one hand rest gently on your shoulder, before he hooks it and tugs you into him.

You’d started getting all-too familiar with just how physically attentive Jake seemed to be, something you would never have guessed about him several weeks ago, but had come to terms with now. Clingy was never a word you would have used to describe him before. He hugs you briefly, then pulls back to look down at you, his brow furrowed and his expression filled with genuine concern, another thing you’d been getting more familiar with.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, inviting himself in by walking you backwards and kicking your door closed lightly behind him. You’d come not to mind this sort of thing either, but mostly because you know if you asked him to leave again, he would, no questions asked. That was another new thing you’d been learning about Jake Seresin.

In comparison to how Hangman could be up in the sky, Jake was entirely understanding, one hundred percent supportive, and almost a little too observant when it came to your particular anxieties. It meant he often knew without you saying when to push you, and when to not, and on the occasion that you did need to say, he always respected those boundaries.

It was starting to make you nervous, how much you were growing to like him.

“Cramps are kicking my ass, but other than that, mostly fine. Thank you for these,” you try again, hoping that he really understands just how much you appreciate him coming over for you tonight. Never in your life would you have imagined feeling comfortable enough to ask Hangman to stop by the pharmacy and pick you up sanitary products, and never would you have imagined he’d make no issue of it.

“Sure,” he says, again with a shrug. “You want me to head out?” he asks then, tipping his head back at your door, even as he inches his face closer to yours, brushing his nose tip against yours. Your lips quirk, then break out into a full smile when he grins before dipping low enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your stomach somersaults and pulls at least ten G’s for sure as he continues to brush his lips against yours teasingly.

This hadn’t taken much getting used to at all. Jake was a good kisser, and had proved it after your second date, almost in the exact place you were now, both his hands cupping your cheeks and his lips full on yours, hungry and insistent. That had been almost four weeks ago now, but after his hands had tugged your hips flush to his, you’d quickly put the breaks on.

You were still slightly uncertain about going further with Jake so soon. The fact was, you worked together in a high impact, high stress job, and if anything should happen between you, it would be easier to keep things professional if you took it slow

Jake had, to your slight surprise, though you aren't sure exactly what you were expecting, nodded slowly and taken a step back. He’d told you that the only thing he wanted more than you, was for you to want him too. You’d had to explain that your position wasn’t because you didn’t want him, which had led to more making out, but he hadn’t pushed to go further and he’d left that night with the affirmation that however long you wanted to wait was alright by him.

“No, you can stay,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his neck to stop him from pulling away too much as you try not to full-on pout. Jake smiles against your lips and presses into you further, moving to push you against the wall, where he crowds your space entirely and stops teasing you, capturing your lips with his at last.

You’re about to experimentally slide your hand up his shirt, a thought that had been lingering in your mind more and more these past few days, but your kiss is over too soon, and he pulls back, leaving you breathless.

“Weren’t you waiting for me, so you could do chores?” he prompts, nearly making you grumble. Instead you nod, and gently push back against him, heading towards your bedroom just down the main hall.

“You can wait in here if you like,” you suggest, feeling a little nervous about the idea, but it was something you’d been thinking about for a while now. Even if you and Jake weren’t sleeping together, that didn’t mean the two of you couldn’t sleep together, did it? It was something you’d wanted, specifically with him, but not really something you’d ever experienced before. You were ready to move out of these early stages of your relationship, eager to push yourself and your limits just a little, so you could settle into something more comfortable with Jake, something where you weren’t always a little surprised when he touched you, or called you by one of his innumerable pet names.

Jake shoves his hands in his pockets and nods, clearly thinking through what this invitation could mean as he follows you quietly.

“Um, I feel like I should say ‘excuse the mess’, but you know–” you cut yourself off and gesture around your bedroom when you both have entered. Jake snorts.

“Well that’s what being in the Navy gets you. I won’t judge if you say it anyway,” he tells you lightly, and you scoff.

“Yes you will!” you insist, and are met with a confident, familiar cheshire-grin.

“Mhm, but only a little. Have you changed your mind, honey?” he steps toward you again then, almost closing the distance in one stride, his hands still shoved in his pockets, but his gaze locked intently on you in a way you haven’t felt since that second date. Your heart beats so loudly you’re sure he must be able to hear, but he doesn’t mention it, just waits for you, crowding your space again.

“Oh, I– No… not… I didn’t… I’m sorry…”

The moment you speak Jake is stepping back, pulling his hands from his pockets to hold them up, his expression losing the intensity again.

“No need to apologise, my mistake.” Jake’s words are sincere, but he looks away from you.

You let out a little sigh.

“It’s just so soon, and with the trial–”

“–You don’t have to explain yourself, honey,” Jake pulls his hands from his pockets at last and places them at your waist, drawing you in. You fall quiet as he lowers his face to yours, though he teases you again by not kissing you, simply looking you over, and then smirking when you pout. “You want it when you want it, and that’s when I want it, okay?”

He makes you nod, before he at last lowers his lips to meet yours and kisses you, slow and sweet. You finally get the chance to test the waters a little, easing your hand carefully underneath the back of his shirt, making you giggle against his mouth when he jumps slightly at the feel of your skin on his. Jake doesn’t say or do anything about it though, thankfully just letting you explore a little as he tips your head back further to deepen your kiss, and you brush your fingers up his spine.

After a short while of this, he must feel the urge to tease you again, because with little to no hesitation at all, unlike you, he slips his hands beneath your shirt, his warm palms gripping onto the bare skin just above your PJ shorts, almost making you moan. You’re glad you’re able to hold back the sound, mostly, but your own surprise doesn’t go unnoticed by the blond currently kissing you.

He only continues doing so for a short minute longer, before he’s eventually pulling back, lips pink and kiss swollen. You can’t help but frown at the parting. He squeezes your waist, and nudges your nose with his own.

“What do you want to do, honey?”

You groan at the apparent lack of making out in your future, not because you don’t think he’d agree, but mostly because you’re not quite ready to ask him for more, though a part of you senses he’s not willing to let you off the hook for those chores you’d told him about earlier.

“I need to fold this laundry,” you point past him, to your walk-in wardrobe and the basket that lies within. Jake looks over at it and lifts an eyebrow, which you choose to ignore. He nods then, and takes a step away from you, making you frown even more when his hands fall from your body.

“I’ll help,” he says, making your eyes widen, and you quickly step around him to block his path, where he is clearly about to make for your basket.

“No! Um… It’s okay, It’ll be easier if I just do it…” you trail off, wondering if you sound insane and neurotic, but Jake simply raises his hands again and nods.

“Well, what do you want me to do?” he prods, and you realise, he’s come inside thinking you want him to help with your chores.

“I was thinking… I was thinking it might just be nice for you to just… be here?” You cringe, and narrowly avoid making a face at yourself. Jake blinks at you as if he doesn’t understand.

“You want me to… sit around while you do laundry?” he asks, tone confused, but equally unimpressed. You nod. Jake shifts, then clicks his tongue. “I was not raised to let somebody work while I sit and watch, especially not my girl. My mother would tan my hide.”

You’re a little surprised by the seriousness on his face, despite the humorous inflection in his voice. You suck in a breath, mulling over how to explain to him what you had been thinking when he came inside. Jake’s eyes flicker over you for a moment before he shifts again, crossing his arms and lifting his chin at you.

“Alright sweetheart, just say what you gotta say, I can hear those cogs turning from here…”

“I… I like that you want to help me, I think that’s really sweet…”

“But…?” Jake prompts.

“I find this kinda thing hard, and I was hoping we could just try and do something… domestic…? Together?” your face goes hot at your admission, and when Jake doesn’t immediately respond you wonder if using the word ‘domestic’ was too much, too soon.

“What is ‘this kind of thing’? I get the other part honey,” again, his voice is playful, but you see the seriousness behind his eyes and it lends you even more comfort. How is he so good at this? It’s almost like he’d read your teenage diary entry all about your perfect guy… it's the sort of attention, care, and behaviour that you’ve never actually gotten from a guy you were seeing before, so you aren’t really sure how to compose yourself.

“This kind of thing,” you gesture between you and him, before clearing your throat. “I don't know what to call it– us, but–”

“–a relationship.” Jake cuts in firmly, and you pause, heart thumping. You hadn't actually had this discussion yet, but you guess you’re having it now.

“Right. I mean, I’ve been in relationships before, but they’ve never really worked out and I feel like I never get to the point with boyfriends where I feel fully comfortable, so I–” you clamp your mouth shut, both at the use of ‘boyfriend’, and at the fact you were rambling, and you’re pretty sure it's too early to start telling him about how all your prior relationships failed.

“Right. So, let me get this straight; you were going to come back in here and put your laundry away, regardless of me being here?” Jake holds up a hand as he repeats back the information.

“Yeah…”

“And you just want me to keep you company?”

You nod, and clear your throat.

“Yeah.”

Jake stares at you, a level of understanding crossing his face, before his eyes flick to your laundry behind you, then back to your face.

“... And you’re sure I can’t help you?” His resolve sounds weak, and you think he’s already made up his mind to do as you asked, but his upbringing requires him to triple check. You smile, and this time step toward him, gingerly resting your hand on his arm, which he immediately raises, and flips, sliding it so now you’re holding his hand.

Again, you can’t fathom how he got so good at this sort of thing. Your knees go wobbly.

“I have a bunch of lacy unmentionables in there, so…” you try to lighten things, but it's not a lie. Jake picks up what you’re putting down, and gives your hand a squeeze. He tips his chin at you and lifts an eyebrow.

“Now why’d you have to go and say that honey? You sure you’re certain I can’t help?” his hands slip from yours to rest at your hips again, completely bypassing your top this time and your heart stutters.

You bite your lip, and nod your head, trying not to laugh him off fully, because while that may be your instinctual nervous reaction, you didn’t want to discourage him entirely. You liked that Jake acted as if you were a pretty girl, like you were desirable, and not like the awkward dork you actually were. You didn't want him to stop doing that.

His expression turns a little softer, and he leans down, moving slowly as to give you time to process, and he presses his lips to your cheek, lingering for just a moment before he taps your sides with his fingers, then steps away.

You’re still catching your breath when he looks back at you, pointing at what looks like one corner of your bed.

“Can I?”

You nod, and gesture at the whole mattress.

“Make yourself comfortable!”

–

You can feel the pounding music of the club in your whole body. The lights flashing and dancing in different colourways in time with the music give everything around you an ever changing aura, and maybe it’s all the drinks you’ve had tonight, but in front of you, Natasha seems to glow.

Her hands grasp your forearm firmly and you giggle, uncharacteristically carefree as you almost slip again.

“Alright! Okay, let's get you seated!” she says. She’s had a few too, but not nearly as many as you, and you’re glad for it now as she steers you toward the bar and grabs a paper cup to fill with water from the nearby water station toward the end. You find yourself drinking it without prompting, but miss the taste of the fruity cocktails you’d been downing all night. “I’ll call us a cab,” she says, beginning to pull out her phone, but you hastily stop her, placing a hand on her arm and shaking your head rapidly, making the colours spin even more.

“No! My boyfriend said he’d pick us up!” you insist, ignoring the way her eyebrows shoot up, then stitch together.

“You boyfriend?” she asks, but you miss the real question behind her words, instead you simply nod, and begin to fumble around in your own purse until you find your phone. Nat watches you expectantly as you open your messages, quickly tapping ‘call' on the top icon, and pressing the phone to one ear, and your finger to the other.

It rings less than once before it connects.

“Heeyy!” you sigh in relief down the line, happy to even just hear his voice after all night going without. “Yeah, no, everything’s alright, you just said to call you when we were done!” you say in reply to his amused questioning. You look up at Nat briefly, and if you were more sober, you might’ve been able to tell that she was leaning in slightly to try and hear the voice on the other end, but you aren’t, so you don’t.

“Okay, I’ll meet you out front!” you tell him excitedly, before adding on; “Is it okay if we give Nat a ride home too?” there's a short reply, and at last you’re smiling wide and nodding, even though he can’t see you. “Okay, we’ll see you soooon!”

You hang up and stare back up at Natasha, who's giving you a funny look that you ignore. “He said he’ll be here in ten, he’s been at the sports bar in town waiting!” you tell her dreamily, like she might understand what it means to you that Jake would choose to remain only a short distance away in case you needed anything, in the knowledge that you didn’t always enjoy nights out like this.

Nat simply nods and after making you drink one more glass of water, you begin making your way through the crowds and out of the club.

The air outside is warm, but refreshing and you take in as much of it as you can, not realising how stuffy the air inside the club had been until now. It was getting late, and bars and restaurants around the club are lit up and busy, the streets all around full of people either on their way to their destination, or lingering as they talk.

It doesn’t take long for you to spot Jake’s car and he pulls up close to the curb, allowing you to beeline for the passengers side door, not realising that Natasha follows with more confusion and trepidation. Jake jumps out of the car to greet you, rounding it to quickly steady your wobbly walk with a hand on your hip, and with the other, he pulls open the car door and helps you inside, leaning in to help you buckle in, grinning even as he murmurs quietly.

“You had a good night, sweetheart?” he asks, clicking your seatbelt into place for you, making you giggle at him. You lean forward for a kiss, but he dodges you, somewhat more aware than you are of your present company, and instead rests his hand so he can squeeze your knee. Your good mood isn’t spoiled and you barely notice the dodged kiss, so you simply nod your assent to his question vehemently.

“I had a lot to drink!” you tell him, before bursting out into giggles again, the soft, sweet smile Jake gives you going unnoticed as he squeezes your leg again.

“Yes you did,” he says with clear, fond amusement, and at last moves back so he can shut your door.

Unlike you, on the other hand, Natasha may as well be sober as a judge, and she eyes Jake somewhat distrustfully as she steps closer, lifting her chin up at him as she talks.

“What’re you doing here?” she asks accusingly, making Jake cock his head at her, only half as annoyingly as he can. He gestures back at you in the front seat of his car.

“Miri called, sounded pretty hammered,” he tells her as if that explained it. Natasha narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

“Yeah, but she said she was calling her boyfriend, what’re you doing here?” She dares him to reply with anything but the truth, however luckily for Jake, unlike most men caught in her crossfire, he’s able to brush her off with an infuriating grin.

“I guess she dialled the wrong number, do you want a lift home or not?”

At his ultimatum (however hollow it really is, he wouldn’t leave her on her own in the middle of the night), Natasha frowns darker at him, but accepts the door he opens, waiting for her to get settled before he closes it behind her and returns to the driver's side.

When Jake checks his rearview he notes in amusement that Nat has situated herself in the middle seat, giving herself a perfect view of the two of you in the front. You don’t, nor do you seem to have any weariness in the bloodhound you’ve just set upon the both of you, but if he’s honest, Jake had known from day one that the second Natasha Trace suspected anything, your little secret was over.

He drives back as normally as he can, but it's strange to him now to have you sitting right there in his passenger's seat, and not have his hand in yours, or on your thigh. It’s strange to him to be in this space where the two of you are usually so open with your affection, and have to suppress it. Jake does not like it.

The car ride home is quiet, you seem content to look out the window, the tiredness hitting you now, but every so often he and Nat make small talk about whatever football scores interested them in the past week or two, and before too long, he’s pulling up outside her home.

Looking over at you to find that you’re slumped over asleep on his window, Jake follows Natasha out of the car with a simple offer of making sure she gets in alright. The congeniality doesn’t last very long, and once they’re standing on her porch she turns to him with a frown.

“You don’t really think I’m that stupid, do you?” she asks, for once not sounding angry or scolding, but seemingly subdued, maybe even a little upset. Jake sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Looking back to his car to make sure you’re still alright, he levels his squadmate with a serious expression.

“No, I do not,” he tells her sincerely. “But it’s Miri’s choice to not want to be public yet, all I’m asking is that you respect that,” he goes on after a moment. He doesn’t really believe she would say anything, but he feels the need to get her agreement, if only for your peace of mind in the morning.

Nat hums to herself and briefly looks away to fish out her keys. Once she has them in hand, she looks up at him again, a little grin on her face this time.

“How long?” she asks. Jake rolls his eyes and can’t resist the urge to mess with her just a little.

“Few years,” he states matter of factly, waiting for her eyes to pop wide before he lets out a victorious laugh and shakes his head. “A month or two,” he admits truthfully, accepting the hard sock in the arm as Nat scoffs at him and moves to unlock her front door.

“Something, something, I’ll kick your ass if you hurt her,” she grumbles as she steps inside, immediately kicking off her shoes. Jake straightens up and gives her a mock salute.

“Yes Ma’am,” he says, chortling to himself as he receives a middle finger for his efforts and the door is closed and locked again.

Jake feels a little lighter on his walk back to his car, and when he climbs in, he leans over to carefully adjust your crooked neck and make sure your belt is still strapped properly. You wake a little, confused at first, and blink up at him in happy wonderment.

“Hey!” you mumble, like it's the first time you’ve seen him tonight. Jake chuckles and leans closer to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s get you home baby.”

–

You awake the next morning with nowhere near the headache you’re expecting, but with an array of distinct memories that cause a pit to open up in your stomach. The pit then begins to growl as you register the warm, homey smell of food, and with little effort, you force yourself up and into the kitchen, where you immediately attach yourself to Jake’s bare back.

His skin is warm and feels so comfy against your cheek, and the soft little laugh he gives makes your belly flop around. He lets you stay like that for a few moments more, moving slowly but smoothly so you can move with him, and at last when whatever he’s doing with his hands is finished, he reaches around for you and rests his hands where he can.

“Did I really call you last night? While with Nat?” you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping you’d just imagined it all, but another soft chuckle lets you know you hadn’t.

“Never thought you’d be the one to let our little secret slip first. I underestimated you baby.”

You groan into his back, and try to hide your face, but before you can complain or dodge him, Jake has turned himself around, letting you instead smoosh your face in between his gloriously golden pecs, and you think things may not be so bad.

He wraps his arms around you properly, and for a moment you just stay like that. You wonder if you can convince him to come around shirtless more often, the warmth radiating off his skin feeling heavenly, not to mention he looked almost as delicious as the food he’d made. You wonder if he’d already worked out this morning, or if you can join him after breakfast.

One of Jake’s hands moves away from your back and cups the back of your head tenderly, making you mewl slightly, and you look up at him to give the attention you know he’s asking for. Jake stares down at you with a soft little grin, and readjusts himself slightly, so he’s able to drop his lips to meet yours briefly.

One kiss becomes two kisses, becoming three kisses and after that any semblance of chastity is given up on and he kisses you full and sweet, deliberately slow like he’s teasing you to ask for more, but for now you’re simply content to wash away all of last nights worries like this.

Coming up for air, Jake barely breaks apart from you, his lips still brushing yours when he speaks.

“I asked Nat not to say anything, she respects you enough to do that I think,” he says, dropping a few more soft kisses to your mouth when you crane your neck up for more. He goes no further this time, though, and leans back from you to gauge your reaction after several moments, and you force yourself to open your eyes and pout.

“It’s not that I think she’ll tell anyone…” you say to him, scrunching up your features as you recall your lack of playing it cool the first time she had brought Jake up to you. The memory makes you grumble to yourself, and you once more attempt to hide your face in his chest. Jake laughs, and makes you jump when he pokes your side.

“What is it?” he asks, like he already knows. You tell him, voice muffled in his skin, but clear enough for the details of your embarrassing inability to throw the scent off to be heard. Jake’s body shakes with more laughter as you relay the information, but instead of trying to make you stop hiding away, he simply cups the back of your head again, and holds it nearer, allowing you to wither your embarrassment away in the safety of him.

“I think we both know that the minute that woman suspected anything, it was game over,” he tells you once you’re done, still holding you close, but you feel his lips press to the top of your head sweetly, and you do your best to snuggle yourself closer.

After the bulk of your mortification has eased away, Jake makes you detach from him, but only so the two of you can eat your breakfast while it’s still hot.

“You know I don’t want to keep it quiet, like, forever, right?” you ask out of nowhere, your memories of last night replaying over in your head while you ate. Jake looks up at you and cocks his head.

“I’m happy to do whatever you’d like to do, for as long as you’d like to do it,” he says matter of factly, but despite the sweetness of his words, you can’t help but frown at him.

“No you’re not, and we both know it,” you push back, grateful for his always tender manner of going at your pace, but you’d likely never have been with him in the first place if he hadn’t thrown you out of your comfort zone that first time.

The only difference is, now you are with Jake, and you understood these things about yourself, and how they weren’t always as scary as your mind might make them seem. Jake frowns back at you, clearly ready to protest.

“I know you pretty well too, you know,” you cut him off. “I know you like PDA, and that you wish you were able to be more open when we’re out with people. I know you like to show off, and part of that includes me,” you tell him adamantly, because you know you’re right.

Jake huffs out a sigh and leans back in his chair, looking at you dead on, you know him well enough to know he’s a little annoyed at you calling him out, but you aren’t doing it to annoy him or just for the sake of starting an argument.

“Okay, so what if I do? That doesn’t change the fact that until you want something, I’m not gonna go for it,” he says, still frowning at you like he doesn’t understand what the point of talking this through is even about.

You change tack and, with your heart beat thumping a little wildly, get up from your seat and move toward him. Even in his annoyance, Jake makes room for you, pushes out his chair and wraps his arms around your waist when you seat yourself on his thigh, your own arms linking around his neck.

“Well maybe I’m giving you permission to go for it,” you say softly, quietly, because the idea still does make you incredibly nervous. But you like Jake, no scratch that, you think you’re in love with Jake, and you think he’s in love with you too, and something about that feeling for once in your life makes you want the same things he does too, including the PDA. You want him to sling his arm around your neck, you want to be able to kiss his cheek or hold his hand or whatever it is you two want to do, not just in the comfort of your own homes, but out at the Hard Deck with your friends, too.

Jake blinks up at you, like at first your words don’t even register, but then he’s tightening his hold around your waist, and grinning wolfishly up at you, all cocky and infuriating if you didn’t find it utterly charming. If you didn’t completely adore him, even this part.

“Permission granted, Lieutenant?” he asks mischievously, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling, like you’re drunk all over again.

“Permission granted, Lieutenant!”

[vincinnamontoast]

what remains

YELLOWJACKETS!AU vi x reader

synopsis: love, loss, and hunger intertwine in the unforgiving wilderness

words: 1.9k

contains: NO SPOILERS!, blood, grief/mourning, death, cannibalism, violence, survival themes, repetition, lowkey not proofread oops

a/n: spent like so long writing this and actually sobbing while doing it hehe XD

the hunger is a living thing inside you.

It slithers in your gut, curls around your ribs, sharp and gnawing, whispering in the back of your mind like a lover calling you home. It never stops. It never sleeps. you wake up with it. you fall asleep with it. It presses against your skull, drumming like fingers against glass.

vi is the only thing that quiets it.

she is warmth in a world of cold, breath in a place where everything is dying. when her lips find yours, when her hands thread through your hair, the hunger dulls—just for a moment. just long enough to pretend.

and then—

then it comes roaring back.

you’re tangled together, limbs desperate, mouths feverish, bodies pressed so close it feels like you might merge into one. vi tastes like smoke and salt, like the blood dried on her cracked lips, like something you were always meant to consume.

your hands clutch at her, skimming over sharp ribs, the jut of her collarbone, the flesh stretched too thin over bone. you can feel the way her body trembles—not from the cold, not from fear, nor from the hunger but from want.

she knows.

she feels it too.

your stomach twists, and suddenly it’s too much—your mouth tears away from hers, gasping for air like you’ve been drowning.

vi watches you, her pupils blown wide, lips slick with spit and blood. there’s something dark in her gaze. something knowing.

she lifts a hand and cups your cheek, thumb brushing over the bone, slow and gentle. “you’re starving,” she murmurs.

you squeeze your eyes shut. “don’t—”

her grip tightens. “you are.”

your throat tightens. your hands shake.

“I won’t survive this winter,” she says, like it’s a fact. like it’s already written. “neither will you.”

you shake your head. “stop, vi.”

“I want you to have me.” vi’s fingers found your jaw, tilting your face toward her with a firm but gentle touch, forcing you to meet her eyes. “I want to be with you.”

the words slam into you like a knife to the gut. your breath catches, eyes burning.

“no,” you whisper. “do not ask me that.”

she leans in, presses her forehead against yours. “do you love me?”

“you know I do.”

“then take me.” her lips ghost over yours, warm and soft. “let me be apart of you.”

the hunger roars, louder than your grief, louder than your love, louder than anything else.

you sob. your fingers dig into her skin.

“I can’t.”

“you can.”

she reaches for your hands, guiding them to the knife she had tucked in the hip of her pants. the metal is cold in your grip, quivering as if it, too, recoils from what you are about to do.

you are trembling, your breath coming in sharp gasps. “vi…”

she smiles. soft, aching. she cups your face, her calloused fingers gentle against your cheek. “I love you.”

you want to scream. you want to rip the sky apart, to demand the wilderness give her back to you, to undo everything. but the forest does not listen. It only takes. nature has decided. her fate was here.

vi presses her lips to your forehead. “before they find me,” she murmurs. “before they take me away from you.”

the blade glints in the low light, silver against the fragile stretch of her throat. you press it there, hesitant, hands shaking so violently that she has to wrap her own around yours to steady them.

she does not flinch.

she only looks at you—like you’re the last thing she’ll ever see, like she wants to carve your face into her memory, trace every curve and scar and freckle with her eyes so she can take you with her wherever she’s going. like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered. like you’re the only thing that ever will.

and she smiles.

and then she kisses you.

It’s slow at first, reverent—her lips soft and warm against yours, her breath trembling as she exhales into you. she cradles your face in her bloodied hands, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones with a gentleness that shatters you. she’s savoring you, drinking you in like she’s memorizing the shape of your mouth, the way you taste, the way you sigh into her.

then, something in her shifts.

her fingers tighten in your hair, and she pulls you deeper into her, pressing, claiming, giving. the kiss turns desperate, aching, her lips parting against yours, her teeth grazing your bottom lip like she wants to sink into you, like she wants you to feel her in your bones. she kisses you like she’s not afraid. like she’s ready. like she’s waiting for you to take her into you, to make her part of you, to never be without her again.

and you let her.

you let her pour every last ounce of herself into you, let her whisper through the press of her mouth that this is love, that this is forever. you taste the salt of her tears, of your own, the iron of her blood, the warmth of everything she is and was and will never be again. you taste her, and you know—this is the last kiss you will ever share.

vi cups your face with trembling hands, her thumbs smoothing away the tears spilling down your cheeks. her touch is warm— grounding, even as everything inside you splinters apart. she leans in, pressing her forehead against yours, her breath shallow but steady. her eyes—blue and endless, hold you with something softer than fear, something deeper than pain. love. unyielding, all-consuming love.

“I’m here,” she whispers, voice frayed at the edges but certain. “I’ll always be here.”

and with a final, gentle nod, she gives herself to you.

you sob as you press the blade in.

It is a kiss. a whisper. a parting.

her blood spills in thick, glistening ribbons, dark against the snow. red poppies blooming in a field of white. a painting so violent, so tender. she stains the world with her love, a bright, aching thing that will never be erased.

she has always been beautiful—soft in a world that was anything but. and now, even in death, she remains the same—something gentle, something radiant, something worth looking at in a place that takes and takes and takes.

her body collapses into you. you cradle her against your chest, rocking her as you weep into her cooling skin. your fingers thread through her hair, your lips press to her temple, and you whisper her name, over and over, as if it might call her back.

but she is gone.

and you will never—never—see her again.

you will never see the way her freckles spread farther across her face when she smiled, the way her cheeks puffed up like she was trying to hold all that light inside her. you will never hear her laugh, that ridiculous, loud, squealing cackle she tried to muffle but never could.

you will never feel her overprotectiveness again, the way she would always step in front of you first, a hand at your back, muscles tight, prepared to take on the world. you will never see her pout, that exaggerated, childlike thing she did when she wanted something from you. you will never hear her voice again—the rasped edges of it, rough like stone yet warm like sunlight. the way it could crash against you like a storm or settle over you like a lullaby. how it heightened in pitch when she whispered your name, soft and reverent, like a prayer only meant for you.

you will never hear her gasp when you touch her, feel the way her body melted into yours, the way her soft lips molded into yours so perfectly, plush and gentle one moment, insistent and claiming the next.

you will never worship her body again. never press your lips to the curve of her shoulder, never run your fingers through her hair, never whisper prayers into her skin as she trembled beneath you.

You will never see her big blue eyes again—the way they’d go wide and glisten when she looked at you, shimmering like the sky after rain. the way she always looked at you, like you were the thing that kept her going.

and her stupid jokes—the ones she tended to make at the worst times. you would give anything to hear them again. to roll your eyes at her, to swat at her arm, to pretend to be annoyed while she grinned at you like you were the best thing she had ever seen.

and the nights when it was just the two of you and you didn’t have to hear the girls bickering and squabbling over who had to fetch pails of water next. when the others were sleeping, when the fire had burned low and the world was nothing but you and her, desperate, wild, wanting. you would press against each other, mouths searching, fingers grasping, licking at each other’s skin like you could crawl inside and never be apart again. like love was something that could be consumed, something that could be devoured until there was nothing left to hunger for.

she would whisper your name against your throat, her breath hot, hands shaking, and you would breathe her in, deeper and deeper, as if you could fill your lungs with her and live on it forever.

but there was never enough.

not then. not now.

her body cools in your arms, and the hunger is still there.

It gnaws at you, slithers up your throat, digs its claws into your ribs and hollows you out.

vi was the only thing that silenced it. vi was the only thing that made it stop. and now her light is faded, her warmth stolen, her body limp, and oh god, you can’t do this without her.

she told you to take her. eat her. be one with her.

she wanted you to.

the forest is cruel. It is selfish. It steals and steals and never gives back. but this time, it has spared you something.

It has given her to you.

she will not rot in the earth. she will not be picked apart by scavengers, her bones left to be buried beneath ice.

she will live.

In you.

your hands shake as they move to her wrist, to the softness of her forearm, to the flesh that once burned beneath your fingertips when she held you at night.

“I love you,” you whisper.

and then you take.

—

that night, when the wind howls through the trees, you feel her fingers ghost over your skin—light as a breath, fleeting as a dying ember. vi. the touch you memorized, the warmth you’ll never feel again. It lingers just long enough to shatter you, to make you turn, desperate, aching—only to meet the cruel, hollow dark.

you caress her bones that lace around your neck like a rosary, draped over your throat, clicking softly with every breath—a devotion, a confession, a love that does not end. and her hair, her wild, burning fuchsia hair, you keep bound tight around your wrist, woven into your own, pressed to your lips when the nights stretch too long.

you hear her whisper your name in the dead of night.

soft. close.

vi is within you and you are whole now. full.

but wholeness does not mean peace. It does not quiet the longing. the yearning. you will carry her forever, feel her in every breath, in every heartbeat—but you will never touch her again. never hold her. never press your forehead to hers and breathe her in. and no matter how deeply she lingers within you, you will ache for her until the wilderness takes you too.

because it will take, and it will claim lives that were never meant to be lost. It will snatch lively souls that were never meant to be swallowed by the dark.

a/n: finishing up my caitvi x reader hcs, so hopefully I’ll be able to post that within a couple hours ! <3