#like when I write and I need it short it’ll be long but when I need it long it’ll be short

[burningembers91]

The Debt Collector - Choi Woo-Seok x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Choi Woo-Seok spends his days collecting money from people who can’t afford to pay. But when he meets you, he can’t help but bend the rules

A/N: the love I have for not only this character, but for the actor plays him in unbelievable. I love every character he plays and I adored his character in Squid Game. If you haven’t watched the Kdrama Kingdom, on Netflix I urge to immediately watch it. This man plays the most selfish, most cowardly, but most loveable person I have ever seen grace my screen.

Choi Woo-Seok had wanted to be a lot of things in his life. His parents had wanted him to be a doctor, but the sight of blood made him queasy. He’d thought about becoming a lawyer, but he was terrible at arguing. He’d trained as a chef for a short while, but that came to a swift end when he set the kitchen on fire just 2 weeks in. He loved photography, but there was no money in it, and if he was going to have a family of his own one day, he’d need a job that could support them. He wasn’t quite sure how he became a debt collector; he just sort of fell into it one day. What had started off as friendly conversation at a bar with a stranger had developed into a friendship, which developed into a job offer and before he knew it, Woo-Seok was knocking on the doors of those who owed his boss money. He wasn’t a violent man, he actively tried to avoid it at all costs. But, luckily for him his boss had plenty of hired muscle, so Woo-Seok could keep a happy distance from the beatings delivered to those who couldn’t pay.

It wasn’t the fanciest job in the world, but his boss was nice, the pay was good, and he didn’t haven’t to wear a stuffy suit to work. Being a debt collector didn’t give him much of a chance to meet women though. He had barely any free time, and when he did, he could never seem to land himself a date. Women tended to go for guys that didn’t look like him, that didn’t tell cheesey jokes, or trip over their own feet when walking. He longed to be a father and husband though, to be a provider for a family he hoped would cherish him as much as he cherished them.

When his boss gave him your name as the next person to visit, he hadn’t expected to be so taken aback by you. It was mostly men who owed money, but the few women who did were often just as violent and brash as their male counterparts, and Woo-Seok had been slapped more times that he’d like to admit by an angry woman who couldn’t afford to pay.

When he met you, you were so timid and shy. It was your husband who had borrowed money from his boss, who had gambled away every penny. When the money ran out, and he wasn’t able to borrow more he fled, leaving you to pick up the pieces. You didn’t deserve to pay for something you’d had no part in. You were already working 2 jobs, trying desperately to keep your head above water. You had no idea where your ex had fled to, and had no desire to find out. That man had been nothing but trouble from the moment you’d met him, but love made people blind, and you’d been no exception.

Woo-Seok pled your case for you. Begged his boss to write the debt off.

“You’re a softie,” his boss had sighed, but he chose to let the debt go. He had bigger fish to fry and he trusted Woo-Seok with his life. If he saw something in you, his boss wasn’t going to question it. “Don’t go trying to play the hero though,” he warned him. “It’ll only end in tears.”

But Woo-Seok couldn’t stay away. He’d only gone over to tell you the debt had been wiped clean, but when he found you scrambling to pick up the groceries that had fallen from your split carrier bag, he couldn’t help himself. He carried everything into your apartment for you, replaced the milk that had splattered all over the concrete, and bought you a coffee and a cake from his favourite cafe.

Woo-Seok made you laugh. You loved his cheesey jokes, his bashful smile, his selflessness. He was your knight in shining armour.

You made Woo-Seok smile so much his jaw ached. He was lighter on his feet, he whistled as he walked, he was so happy when he was with you it was like he was walking on a cloud.

He’d asked you out a few months after you met. There was a new open-air movie theatre coming to a park near your apartment. But you’d been left so broken by your ex, so fearful of letting someone in that you declined. You didn’t want to say no; you wanted to go on a date with the man who made your heart sing, but you couldn’t risk getting hurt. Not when you’d only begun to heal.

So the two of you stayed friends, Woo-Seok coming to check on you whenever he could. He didn’t know how to help you heal, didn’t know to take away the pain that was so evident in your eyes.

To Woo-Seok, you were perfect. And if he had to, he would spend every day for the rest of his life helping you to see what he did: a wonderful woman who he loved with every fibre of his being.

[toddtakefive]

thinking about todd and his resolve toward… not quite isolation, but being alone in a room full of people again. he goes along to the study room to sit on his own and do his homework, he sits at the poets table and follows along with what’s being said while keeping quiet, he goes to the meetings at all but doesn’t necessarily contribute (in fact, if you watch him when cameron is telling the story ‘from camp in sixth grade’, you can see that he recognizes it before any of the other poets but doesn’t voice it until they all have). he’s not alone, necessarily, if you want to get technical about it, he’s just lonely, and he’s generally okay with that. he doesn’t have friends and that’s fine, he doesn’t participate in class and that’s fine, he doesn’t have a relationship with his family and that’s fine—he could live without any real connection and he’d have been, more or less, fine.

the thing about when he says “i can take care of myself just fine!” is that he isn’t really wrong, you can infer that he’s been doing it his entire life anyway, it’s that ‘taking care of yourself’ isn’t the same thing as really living or being happy. todd’s an introvert, certainly, and even as he gets closer to the group he defaults to sitting quietly in the background, but he’s also denying himself community out of fear not introversion. todd isn’t friendless because he’s an introvert, although that definitely plays a part, he’s friendless because he pushes anyone that might want his company away. if anyone has every wanted for his attention in the first place. (neil’s unwavering interest in him is unique (even when it comes to the rest of the poets, who are fine with todd coming along and joining the group, but aren’t really hellbent on him being there in the beginning) and his refusal to accept it is a direct result of being so lonely growing up.)

there’s obviously something to be said about the implications of his parents neglect, and the more than likely fact that he grew up friendless, and how those both play a part in in him being so skilled at dodging social interaction/being so avoidant of it, but by the time we see him in the movie he’s all but accepted his fate as being alone his entire life. he’s already accepted being the family disappointment, and he’s already accepted he’ll never amount to anything, and he obviously doesn’t like it, but he’d have managed living with that knowledge without the confirmation that it was all wrong. would he have been miserable? almost certainly. but he’d have managed. he’d done it for that long already, anyhow.

[pastelpousay]

Hiya!!!

Just wanted to stop by and say that I hope you’re doing well and that I love Rina and your Hadina ship and your art so much!!! You’re super duper awesome and I love the fic you’ve been writing too!!! ☺️

Hihi!! :D

Thank you so much!! I’m doing just fine, I hope you’re doing good as well!! 💗

I Really appreciate your support for all my Hadina Shippy stuff and I’m glad you like my art as well!! Ik it may not seem like it but I really do appreciate it a lot it encourages me to keep going :3 so thank you smm again!! 💗

ALSO IM SO SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY FIC AS WELL 😭😭 ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING HOW THE WRITING IS. ik the writing isn’t exactly the best at some points but I try 😭 I’ll get better I promise and my updates take me a while but I’ll try and update again soon enough when I get the energy and time to. (Probably gonna get started on that today if I can)

I also really really like the fic you’ve been writing too!! You’ve done a really amazing job on it I can’t wait to see more from you!! 💗 I think you’re super duper awesome as well 😼‼️

[s-soulwriter]

Things Real People Do in Dialogue (For Your Next Story)

Okay, let’s be real—dialogue can make or break a scene. You want your characters to sound natural, like actual humans talking, not robots reading a script. So, how do you write dialogue that feels real without it turning into a mess of awkward pauses and “ums”? Here’s a little cheat sheet of what real people actually do when they talk (and you can totally steal these for your next story):

1. People Interrupt Each Other All the Time In real conversations, nobody waits for the perfect moment to speak. We interrupt, cut each other off, and finish each other's sentences. Throw in some overlaps or interruptions in your dialogue to make it feel more dynamic and less like a rehearsed play.

2. They Don’t Always Say What They Mean Real people are masters of dodging. They’ll say one thing but mean something totally different (hello, passive-aggressive banter). Or they’ll just avoid the question entirely. Let your characters be vague, sarcastic, or just plain evasive sometimes—it makes their conversations feel more layered.

3. People Trail Off... We don’t always finish our sentences. Sometimes we just... stop talking because we assume the other person gets what we’re trying to say. Use that in your dialogue! Let a sentence trail off into nothing. It adds realism and shows the comfort (or awkwardness) between characters.

4. Repeating Words Is Normal In real life, people repeat words when they’re excited, nervous, or trying to make a point. It’s not a sign of bad writing—it’s how we talk. Let your characters get a little repetitive now and then. It adds a rhythm to their speech that feels more genuine.

5. Fillers Are Your Friends People say "um," "uh," "like," "you know," all the time. Not every character needs to sound polished or poetic. Sprinkle in some filler words where it makes sense, especially if the character is nervous or thinking on their feet.

6. Not Everyone Speaks in Complete Sentences Sometimes, people just throw out fragments instead of complete sentences, especially when emotions are high. Short, choppy dialogue can convey tension or excitement. Instead of saying “I really think we need to talk about this,” try “We need to talk. Now.”

7. Body Language Is Part of the Conversation Real people don’t just communicate with words; they use facial expressions, gestures, and body language. When your characters are talking, think about what they’re doing—are they fidgeting? Smiling? Crossing their arms? Those little actions can add a lot of subtext to the dialogue without needing extra words.

8. Awkward Silences Are Golden People don’t talk non-stop. Sometimes, they stop mid-conversation to think, or because things just got weird. Don’t be afraid to add a beat of awkward silence, a long pause, or a meaningful look between characters. It can say more than words.

9. People Talk Over Themselves When They're Nervous When we’re anxious, we tend to talk too fast, go back to rephrase what we just said, or add unnecessary details. If your character’s nervous, let them ramble a bit or correct themselves. It’s a great way to show their internal state through dialogue.

10. Inside Jokes and Shared History Real people have history. Sometimes they reference something that happened off-page, or they share an inside joke only they get. This makes your dialogue feel lived-in and shows that your characters have a life beyond the scene. Throw in a callback to something earlier, or a joke only two characters understand.

11. No One Explains Everything People leave stuff out. We assume the person we’re talking to knows what we’re talking about, so we skip over background details. Instead of having your character explain everything for the reader’s benefit, let some things go unsaid. It’ll feel more natural—and trust your reader to keep up!

12. Characters Have Different Voices Real people don’t all talk the same way. Your characters shouldn’t either! Pay attention to their unique quirks—does one character use slang? Does another speak more formally? Maybe someone’s always cutting people off while another is super polite. Give them different voices and patterns of speech so their dialogue feels authentic to them.

13. People Change the Subject In real life, conversations don’t always stay on track. People get sidetracked, jump to random topics, or avoid certain subjects altogether. If your characters are uncomfortable or trying to dodge a question, let them awkwardly change the subject or ramble to fill the space.

14. Reactions Aren’t Always Immediate People don’t always respond right away. They pause, they think, they hesitate. Sometimes they don’t know what to say, and that delay can speak volumes. Give your characters a moment to process before they respond—it’ll make the conversation feel more natural.

Important note: Please don’t use all of these tips in one dialogue at once.

[that-sarcastic-writer]

A Touch of Madness

Logan Howlett X girlfriend!reader

Summary: Logan comes to you after being away, and all he wants is your touch, and he knows just how to get on your good side. This is just porn without plot.

Takes place in the same universe as Too Sweet but can be read as standalone

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), fingering, couch sex, soft rough sex, Logan talks you through it, the claws make an appearance (I have a thing for his claws okay), Logan is obsessed with his girl, fluffy relationship, established relationship

WC: 3.9k

A/N: how did I make this longer than too sweet when it was supposed to be a Drabble. Hello idk how to write short shit. But like hello yall are so awesome? I appreciate all the love yall have given my first Logan fic. I also have an older Logan fic in the works but that one has plot so it’ll be a minute before its out. For now here this <3

He couldn’t take it anymore. You were driving him mad. It’s not like he deserved your anger. Not fully anyway. It wasn’t his fault he was gone this long. He had been thinking about you all week, about your soft lips, about the warmth of your thighs, about your sweet moans only for his ears to hear. And all he wanted was to pull you into his arms and take you, over and over, until you begged him to stop. 

But no. 

You were being childish. That’s what he called it anyway. 

“Sweet girl,” he called after you, like a puppy following close behind you as you strided around your apartment. He knew you were doing it on purpose, the excuse of having to do chores so you could elongate his torture. The way you so innocently looked back at him made him clench his jaw. “C’mon.” 

“Don’t sweet girl me, Logan. I told you, I’m busy.” You sassed him, huffing as you kept walking, finding the most insignificant of chores to waste your time with. He rolled his eyes at you, eyebrows furrowed into this perpetual gaze of annoyance. 

The truth was, you were aching for him, your thighs warm and your skin tingling solely at the thought of him taking you to do as he pleased. But, if there was something in this world you could be, it was petty. And if you had to suffer a whole week without him, he could suffer for an hour, even if it was also at your expense. Truly, you almost enjoyed the annoyance in his face, the sharpness in his voice, him damn near groaning behind you every time you evaded him under the excuse of needing to get some dumb chore done. 

“You’re killin’ me here, sugar.” He actually groaned this time, his jaw set. You stopped in your tracks and turned your head to look at him, shooting him a pointed look. “I said I was sorry.”

“Serves you right. And I don’t care if you’re sorry. You haven’t called me in a week.” Your words were sharp with bitterness and it dawned on him. That was why you were upset. A slight bit of humor tugged at the corner of his lips and he breathed out a laugh. You stared at him with blank eyes, you weren’t laughing. 

“C’mon, is that seriously why you’re upset? You know I was out of the state.” He tried to reason with you. Charles had entrusted him and Storm with finding a certain mutant that was causing havoc, three states over. And Logan had very much underestimated how long this would take them. So here he was, after a whole week away, damn near begging you to let him touch you. “It wasn’t like I wanted to go anyway.”

No, he would much rather be with his sweet girl, one that was being particularly difficult and making him suffer when all he wanted to do was hold you, to feel the warmth of your soft skin. 

He stepped into your personal space, his intoxicating scent almost making you give in. You counted to five in your head, eyes closed to remind yourself that you were, indeed, angry at him. 

“So? You got a phone, don’t you? You could’ve called me.” You huffed, eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled into a small pout, Logan had to hold back the urge to laugh at you. “You can’t disappear for a week and expect to come here and do as you please.” 

You shot him a sharp glare, he just stared at you, eyebrows raised in surprise at your sudden shot of confidence. His sweet girl was talking back to him? Giving him attitude? He tilted his head at you, almost as if to dare you to walk away from him.  

There was a bit of malice in your eyes as you gave him one last look before you walked away, thinking of what other useless chore you could add to continue his torture. But Logan had other thoughts in his head. If you weren’t going to behave, he would happily put you in your place. 

“Hey, c’mere or I’m gonna bring you here myself.” He called after you, the strings of his sanity hanging on by a thread, just waiting for you to tug at the last strand. He knew you too well. You turned your head, eyes big in feign innocence and you tilted your head at him in defiance. 

“Make me then.” The words left your mouth before you could think them through. In hindsight you should have known better, but you also wanted to see just what could happen if you pushed him hard enough. You saw the way his eyes flashed with malice, he stared you down, and in that moment you remembered just how small you were compared to him. “Oh fuck.” 

Your heart pounded in your chest as adrenaline rushed through you, but it wasn’t like you could go outrun him, especially not in your tiny apartment. He caught you, though he did purposely chase you into your living room, simply because he wanted to get you going, pumped with adrenaline. You squealed as he wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you against his chest. His sharp canines nipped at that one spot on your neck that had you whimpering. 

“You goin’ somewhere, sugar?” He husked, his lips hot on your cheek. You couldn’t help but sigh in contentment, eyes closed. God, you missed him. 

“Mhm, still mad at you.” You mumbled, barely hanging on to your silly grudge. A chuckle rumbled in Logan’s chest. 

“That’s alright. I don’t need you to be happy with me to do what I want to do.” He inhaled, breathing your sweet scent, and he spoke as he threw you over his shoulder. “Just need you to look pretty while I do it.” 

You weren’t complaining about your position, you were in fact, bursting into giggles as he effortlessly carried you to the couch, though your giggles turned into another squeal when he smacked his hand flat against your ass. Logan had a grin on his lips as he tossed you on the couch, wasting no time in spreading your legs apart to settle between them.

He leaned down, gripping the armrest above your head, caging you in as he leaned down. He brushed his nose against yours, sighing softly.

“Don’t be such a brat. Kiss me.” The words rumbled in his chest with a groan, his primal needs overcoming his senses. He didn’t have to tell you twice. You laced your fingers in his hair, pulling into a hard and heated kiss.

His tongue slipped inside your mouth as he shrugged off his flannel, tossing it somewhere on the floor, his belt soon following the same fate. You tried to sit up against the armrest, but you quickly realized Logan had other plans deep in his perverted mind. With a hold of your ankle he dragged you down on the couch, your back flat on the surface as you looked up at him with big eyes.

“Stay just like that, pretty.” He spoke, pressing another heated kiss to your mouth before tugging off your sweatpants, followed by your panties. He tossed them somewhere over his shoulder, somewhere you would have to run around searching for later. But you couldn’t give a fuck about that. All you could focus on was the heat forming between your legs as Logan settled between them.

His eyes met with yours one last time before he was diving in between your warm thighs. His tongue licked long stripes from your hole up to your clit, circling around the sensitive nerve before going back down. Over and over until your soft gasps and sighs of pleasure turned into moans. His large hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open to do as he pleased. One leg hung over the back of the couch and the other was thrown over his shoulder, and he effortlessly held you down as he shoved his tongue into your cunt. He was like an animal, insatiable as he took you on his tongue.

“Oh fuck. Shit—Logan—” Your eyes rolled back, lips parted as you whined. You gripped the back of the couch, soft twitches taking over you each time his nose brushed your clit.

It was no secret that Logan found pleasure in giving you yours, and he ate you like it. Grunts and hums rumbled in his chest as his tongue found your clit again, and he reveled in the particularly high pitched cry you let out when he slipped two fingers into your wet core. 

“Needed to taste you so fuckin’ bad. I thought about it all week.” He spat into your clit, groaning at the way your tight walls squeezed his fingers. He could only imagine what you would do when it was his cock stretching your walls. 

“Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted, fingers lacing in his hair as he lapped at your clit. You wished you could hold your pleasure, rivet in it for just a little bit longer, but the way he curled his fingers against your most sensitive spot, the way his tongue was so relentless on your swollen clit, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Oh my—”

Your words never left your throat, chest pounding with sheer adrenaline as your release coated his face and fingers. It was sudden, it left you breathless as your thighs twitched with aftershock. Your eyes were wide and glossy in shock as you shuddered with the remnants of your orgasm. It wasn’t until you pathetically attempted to drag yourself away that Logan stopped. You were shaking, gasping softly when he pulled his fingers from you, but you all but cried when he licked at your wet pussy, getting a taste of you.

“Logan, please I can’t—” Your voice was shaky as you tried to move away from his face, he chuckled at you, pressing his face against your inner thigh before he crawled up to your face.

“‘Is okay. You did good.” He kissed your lips, his large hands holding your face as he let you taste yourself on his tongue. You moaned, clenching around nothing already in anticipation of him filling you. “You wanna stop?”

“No, no, no! Need you, please!” You were quick to protest, wrapping your legs around his waist to prevent him from going anywhere. You couldn’t really stop him from doing anything, but he found it endearing that you tried. He bumped his nose against yours, lips pulled up into a tiny smile.

“Need me where, hm?” He opened his eyes to look at you, and truly how he didn’t bend you over the nearest flat surface the second he saw you was beyond his comprehension. You looked so perfect like this, underneath him, clinging to him. His sweet girl. He didn’t know what it was about you, but from the moment he met you he was done for. You drove him absolutely mad and now he just couldn’t get enough of you.

“Inside me, Logan. Please.” You sighed out, face flushed with embarrassment. He smoothed out the frown lines on your forehead with a tiny kiss. A sweet gesture in comparison to what he was about to do to you.

In one swift motion he had you bent over the armrest, with your ass to him and your chest flat against the armrest. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip as you glanced over your shoulder to watch as he pulled off his white tank top. Your glazed eyes fawned over each perfect muscle in his body, taking particular interest in the veins that popped in his arm when he flexed them as he ridded himself of his jeans. How you ended up with a man so incredibly hot, you had no idea, but you were thanking the Gods for that.

“I need to be inside you, too.” He rasped into your ear, groaning in ecstasy as he sank himself into your needy cunt. Your jaw fell open he filled you, inch by inch. He pulled your t-shirt over your head, instantly attaching his lips to your shoulder as he rutted his hips against your ass. 

His pace was grueling from the start, grip tight on your hips, sure to leave bruises in the morning. A little reminder of his intoxicating presence. You braced yourself on the armrest, sounds of pleasure leaving your lips almost instantly. He pressed his forehead against your cheek, the thick hairs on his chest leaving a tingling sensation across your back as he held you flush against his chest. Heavy breaths filled your ears as you so desperately reached to touch him, any of him. Your trembling fingers found the sound of his face and he leaned his head to capture your parted lips into a messy kiss. He swallowed your sweet sounds as the sting of his cock had you squeezing the life out of him.

“This what you needed, hm? Maybe I should fuck sweet pussy more often? Give it more attention?” He grunted the words in your ears, lips pressed against your cheek as a sheen layer of sweat began to coat your soft skin. You whimpered and nodded weakly, your cunt clenching him with excitement. He smirked softly, his hand coming up to lace through your hair. “Yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweet girl?”

Logan held your face down as his hips drilled into you, each delicious drag of his cock bringing you closer and closer to your sweet release. God, you needed it. All you could do was moan in response.

“Y-yes! God, yes. Please Logan.” You whined out shamelessly, eyes rolled back into your head. Logan hummed, the sound rumbling in his chest as he pressed his lips to your temple, the gentle gesture ironic considering just what he was doing to you. He said nothing as he sneaked his free hand to the front of your body, rough fingers rubbing harsh circles on your sensitive clit. Your jaw fell open, your hand flying to grip his wrist. Your thighs clenched around his hand, whining as his cock  brushed that one spot that had you seeing white. “Logan—”

Your voice was a warning, but he welcomed it. He flicked his wrist without mercy as he rolled his hips, his words only encouraging you to fall apart for him.

“Come for me, pretty girl. You can do that, can’t you? I know you want to.” He let go of your hair to turn your head to meet his eager lips. He happily swallowed the pathetic sounds that left your mouth as he flicked at your clit, his cock hitting so impossibly deep you were left trembling as your release seeped around him. 

Logan held you down on his cock, his thumb playing with your clit until you were gasping and your nails dug into the skin of his wrist. He kissed along your jaw as his hips stilled for just a second, your body still shaking underneath him.

“You okay?” He asked softly, grabbing your face to look at him. You looked at him with hooded eyes and nodded weakly, barely lifting yourself off the couch.

“Yeah. ‘m okay.” 

Logan tilted his head at you, an eyebrow raised with amusement as he leaned down to leave a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

“Perfect.”

He grabbed your hips, pulling out his cock to manhandle you onto your back before he was sinking himself into you again. Your slick walls welcomed him perfectly, like this was the only place he belonged, but he wasn’t complaining. If he could die, he would die happily buried deep in your cunt.

“Oh, God, Logan.” You gasped, thighs twitching as you looked down to find where his thick cock is filling you, splitting you open over and over. Your jaw fell open as you watched him grab one of your ankles and he held it up by his shoulder, spreading you open for him to dig himself deeper and deeper within you tight walls. 

“Look at me, baby.” He groaned, chest heavy as a thin layer of sweat covered his muscled body. You did your best to comply, you looked up, eyes blurry with tears of pleasure as he damn near folded your body in half. Your knees were pressed against your chest as he leaned down to brush his nose against yours. “Yes, there she is. My pretty girl. I missed you.” 

You couldn’t help but moan at his words, and also at the sting of his cock rapidly bringing you to your third release. The way he brought your legs to his shoulders, he sunk himself so deep within your walls you swore you felt him in your stomach. It felt so good you wanted to cry.

“Missed you too, Logan.” You brought your lips up to his, eyebrows furrowed into an expression of pure arousal as you gripped his hair, clinging to him for dear life.

Your release was quick and sudden, hitting you without a warning the second Logan pressed his thumb to your swollen clit. You were just so sensitive, tears staining your cheeks as you sobbed. You clutched on to his large bicep as you spilled around his cock. The way your tight walls squeeze him made him groan, eyebrows furrowed as he focused on chasing his own release while fucking you through your own.

“Look at you, you’re just so good for me. Fuck it, I’ll just take you with me next time.” Groans fell freely from his soft lips as he braced himself on the back of the couch with one hand, and the other held the armrest above your head. He leaned down to press his forehead against yours as your sweet praises and chants of his name filled his ears. 

The sound that rumbled in Logan’s chest was animalistic, a deep growl as he coated your insides with his hot release. The metallic sound of sharp claws filled your ears once more as his claws unsheathed themselves from his knuckles, one on the back of the couch and the other just above your head, again. You gasped his name with a soft laugh, though you would be lying if you said it didn’t drive you feral when his claws accidentally came out. You brought a hand to his face as he pulled his claws out of your couch, the sharp metal once again hiding themselves within his knuckles with a sound. He held himself up on his forearm as his head fell to your neck.

“I’ll pay for it.” He muttered a chuckle into your neck, leaving a soft kiss to your jaw. You laughed, draping a hand over your forehead, breathing in deeply as you felt your mixed releases seep around his cock and drip onto the couch. He should just buy you a new couch, he thought.

“Wanna buy me a new body while you’re at it?” You teased him, already sensing you would have bruises and your thighs would ache for days.

“Did I hurt you?” Concern filled his voice as he lifted his head to scan your face for any discomfort as his hand came up to graze the thigh draped over his waist. You scrunched up your nose at him and shook your head.

“Of course not hun. Don’t be silly.” You traced your fingers over his face and gave him a lopsided smile.

“I did miss you, for the record.” 

You pressed a kiss to his lips. “I missed you too Logan.”

“Lemme clean you up sugar.” He sneaked a kiss to your cheek as he untangled himself from you, much to your protest.

You whined at the emptiness he left you as he stood up. Though you did quite enjoy the sight of his perfect ass he walked off to find something to clean his mess with. When he came back, he had a small towel and he cleaned you without protest, he left warm kisses on your face as you talked to him about your day. He ultimately tossed the towel aside and slipped on his boxers, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of his still hard cock, but you needed a break. You didn’t let him leave though, reaching to grab his wrist with soft eyes

“Wanna watch a movie? I miss watching movies with you.” You mumbled, voice soft as you looked at him with pleading eyes. He laughed softly at you, you made it sound like you hadn’t seen him in a month.

But, how could he ever say no to his sweet girl?

“Mhm, put on somethin’ .” He gently moved you so that he was lying behind you on the couch, his big arms wrapped around you as he held you against his chest. Though you were still completely naked, you paid no mind to it. It actually felt kinda nice to be so close to him and feel the warmth of his body in such an intimate way.

He covered you both with the throw blanket you always kept over the couch for days exactly like this, for those days you wanted to feel warm and close with him on the couch. He ignored the three holes where stuffing was coming out of the ripped fabric as he pulled the soft blanket up to your chest and as you happily settled in his arms, clicking away at the TV. He would buy you a new couch, just as he bought you new pillows, and new blankets. And anything you asked him to, really.

Logan wasn’t used to domestic, the soft touches, cuddling, but he liked doing it with you. He craved it actually, probably just as much as he craved the sex.

“Next time you’re away that long, just give me a call? Please? So that I’m not worried sick thinking you died.” You finally said, the whole reason for such intense feelings merely an hour ago finally surfacing. He laughed softly at how ridiculous you sounded. He technically can’t die, he thought.

“I wouldn’t.. I can’t…Y’know what? You’re right. I’m still getting used to this whole having a girl thing. But I'll do better, yeah? Don’t need you to be mad, sugar.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, settling his face on your neck as he attempted to pay attention to whatever horror movie you decided to watch today. “But if you’re gonna let me fuck you like that when you’re mad, get mad more often.” 

“Logan.” You scolded him, nudging his ribs softly as a warm blush coated your cheeks, knowing you wouldn’t hurt him, but it still made him chuckle. 

He had to admit, he lasted way longer than he did last time. He lasted almost halfway through the movie before the feeling of his cock sitting hot and heavy in his boxers became apparent to him again. He inhaled your scent softly, his lips ghosting over your neck as he rolled his hips softly against your ass. And while you did try to protest, whining that you wanted to get through one movie with him, the sting of his cock was better than any movie in this world. The credits rolled, the soundtrack now drowned out by the sound of your sweet moans. Logan would be damned if he let you leave the warmth of his body for even just one second tonight. Or maybe ever. 

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hiiii!! I love your writing for the batboys!

So my request is Jason and Dick with a s/o and their like cuddling exchanging kisses relaxing and one of their brothers get them for a mission and see their brother (Jason/Dick) with their s/o for the first time. (Maybe the other batboy didn't know Jason/Dick had a girlfriend)

Okieee! Have a great day!

Dick

Cuddled himself into your side, burying his head into your neck, on the verge of falling asleep but not quite there yet as he hummed whenever you ran your fingers through his hair.

‘You like it when I run my fingers through your hair, you might as well be purring.’ You told him while giggling as he tightened his grip on your waist when he felt you shift slightly beneath him. ‘You’d like that wouldn’t you.’ Dick said sluggishly as he pushed his head further into your hand, impatient as he waited for you to continue running your fingers through his hair whenever you stopped briefly.

‘I would but you already act more than enough like a puppy regardless. I guess what they say about dogs and owners looking alike is more true in your case but instead of looks it’s personality.’ You said as you gently tugged his hair, causing him to groan as he then retaliated by deliberately kissing under your jaw and down your neck slowly as he could.

‘You think you’re funny don’t you?’ Dick asks against your neck.

‘I think I’m hilarious when you’re concerned dickbird.’ You gasped when you felt him nibble on your skin, ‘but you love me for it really.’ You added as he raised his head to look at you with a cute little pout across his tired face. You hated how exhausted he looked and so you had decided earlier that day that he was scheduled for some much needed rest, even going so far as to drag him to bed when he was too stubborn to leave a case for a measly five minutes just to eat food.

‘I do, love you I mean.’ Dick said softly as he raised his head to kiss your lips as you hummed happily against him, just as the door to his room swung open.

‘Alright dickhead, time to-‘ Jason looked up to see that he had clearly instructed something and instead of leaving he decided to stand in the doorway awkwardly as he cleared his throat.

‘I didn’t know you had company in here.’ Jason then said.

‘What do you think I normally do?’ Dick asked his younger brother as he shrugged his shoulders.

‘Piss us about usually.’ Jason replied almost casually that you couldn’t help but chuckle at the sibling spat. ‘Now I’m sorry to cut your lovers embrace short but we need to go, preferably now because I don’t know how much longer Tim and Damian can remain together in awkward silence.’ Dick sighed and kissed your cheek as he begun to pull himself away from you begrudgingly.

‘Sorry peanut, I promise you I’ll cuddle you as soon as I get home.’ Dick said when he saw you pout, hand tugging at his shirt which only made him want to say fuck it and stay in your arms, but he knew he couldn’t leave Jason alone to deal with Damian and Tim the entire night without them unironically pissing the other off somehow. ‘For now I’ve got some siblings to keep away from killing each other, so keep the bed warm for me yeah?.’ He adds as he cups your face and kisses you on the lips, nose and forehead.

‘It’ll be cosy and warm when you come home, that and probably smelling of dog too.’ You said as you kissed the space between his brows, cussing dick to smile and relax beneath your lips, he didn’t want to leave, he really didn’t but he knew that when he did come back it’ll be all the more worth while.

‘That’s fine by me, sweetheart.’ Dick replied, completely ignoring Jason who was wondering how the fuck you managed to deal with his brother for as long as you have.

Jason had you cosied up to his side as he continued to read a book he has been meaning to catch up on for a long while but couldn’t in due to the random spikes in crime as of late.

Which unfortunately meant that quality time between yourself and Jason was short lived. So when you were finally able to have Jason by your side for longer then an a few brief moments, you were bound to leap at the opportunity to cling onto him and smother him in kisses, much like you were doing now across his jawline and down his neck.

‘Miss me that much chipmunk?’ Jason asked with a smile as he paused his reading to rear his head back, allowing you further access to his neck, smiling to himself as he felt your lips caress his skin pleasantly. Jason was very much in need for affection after going without it for far longer then he might’ve liked, especially when most days it seemed as though your affection was all that helped Jason in getting through the day; and being deprived of such was a different kind of torture for Jason when he had finally gotten accustomed to it since the start of your relationship.

‘I did,’ you admitted, kissing his pulse on his neck before pulling away to smile up at him, ‘but with how tightly your holding my waist, I’d say you’ve missed me just as much jaybird.’ You added cheekily as you gestured down to the hand that was gripping your waist almost protectively with a playful glint in your eyes.

Jason scoffed as he then tugged you closer to him, making sure to rest his forehead against your own as he spoke, ‘I did miss you chipmunk, I’m not ashamed to admit it because most days it seemed as though you were the only thing keeping me going most of the time.’ He smiles sweetly at you as he kissed your forehead, you closed your eyes and leant into his touch happily, finding bliss at long last.

Only for the door to Jason’s room to burst open. ‘Jason! Are you ready yet Damian’s- oh.’ Dick stoped mid sentence when he noticed you cuddling up to his brother’s side.

You and Jason looked at Dick, who seemed frozen on the spot with his sudden stillness and unblinking eyes, before looking at each other.

‘Is he…okay?’ You whispered to Jason, concerned.

‘He’s fine. Dick’s just being…well a dick.’ Jason replied as he picked up a pillow and threw it in Dick’s direction, ‘Paging dr dickhead.’ He adds as the pillow hit dick square in the face as you slapped Jason on the bicep. ‘Be nice to your friend? Brother? I don’t know-‘

‘I didn’t know you had a significant other Jason!’ Dick exclaimed, completely forgetting what he was doing there in the first place as he smiled widely at you both.

‘And there’s a good reason for that.’ Jason growled as his hand on your waist tightened.

‘So they’re the reason you didn’t want to come out on patrol tonight?’ Dick continued as he made himself comfortable on the edge of Jason’s bed. ‘Who knew my little bro Jay jay was in love.’ He teased and he tried to pinch Jason’s cheeks, only for Jason to smack it away with a grunt, dick shrugs as he played on his stomach and kicked his legs. ‘So tell me how you met, leave no detail out of it.’

Needless to say dick has to be dragged out of the room by the scruff of his neck by an agitated Jason as he dropped him off with Damian, who was sharping his sword, and said ‘he’s your problem now.’ And went back to his room to you to cuddle.

[luveline]

Hi Jade!! I love your writing so much! you wrote a few fics of postprison!reid with kinda shy!reader like the one where she faints and I loved that dynamic and that Reid, do you think you could write some more? pls pls pls <3333333

cw non-consensual drug use /reader is spiked 

Spencer is quite gorgeous. He has a great smile, soft and a little shy without teeth, exuberantly bright like a commercial with teeth. He’s smiling like he can read your mind now, fishing for your hand, and taking it into both of his. Your pinky in one hand and your index the other, he wriggles your hand back and forth and laughs softly. “You don’t handle inebriation well.” 

“What?” you ask, startled. You can’t believe he’s touching you like this, casual, like he’s your boyfriend. Your hot boyfriend.

“You think I’m hot?” 

You squint at him. “What?” you ask. 

He covers your hand gently with both of his. “Nevermind. Do you want something to eat now?” 

“No.” You’ll throw up. Chunks, probably, your breakfast. And it wasn’t even a healthy breakfast. It was waffles and whipped cream and then a donut on the way to the office, Spencer will be able to tell, he’s too smart, he’s too everything. 

“I’m not that smart,” he says kindly. 

That’s a straight up lie. 

He laughs heartily, at odds with his quiet talking, and you’re so confused because it’s like he’s reading your mind? Can he read your mind? There’s so much stuff about yourself you don’t want him to know, your chest hurts thinking about it, you don’t want to tell him anything—

“I think I’ll go find you a hot chocolate,” Spencer says, the sleeve of his shirt falling down unbuttoned to his wrist as he stands. He pushes it back up. He is surprisingly underdressed today and you’ve no idea why. “Does that sound nice?” 

“I don’t think you should leave.” 

“I don’t want you to tell me stuff you don’t want to tell me,” he says. 

“But if you leave I’ll be by myself.” You sound strange to your ears. Crackly, like a garden fire.

Spencer perches himself on the hospital bed next to you. You’re sitting cross-cross on the tight white and blue sheets, waiting for something? Something was supposed to happen, you know that. A doctor was going to take your blood. You look down at the crook of your elbow to find they already have, a cotton pad medical-taped to the skin. 

“I’m not going anywhere if you don’t want me to go,” he says, taking your arm into his hands with the same care he’d shown your fingers. He lifts the corner of the tape and begins to pull it away from the direction it had been stuck in, stretching it, and removing it from you without any pain. 

“Where did you learn that?” you ask. 

Spencer holds your arm in his hand now the cotton ball is done. “Learn what?” 

You’re not interested in asking him again. Weirdly, your throat feels dry, but you won’t tell him because he’ll offer hot chocolate again and you don’t want him to go. 

“Hey,” he says, “not going anywhere until it wears off. Not if you need me.” 

How does he always know what to say? 

“You know, why don’t you get into bed and lay down for a little bit? You must be tired, sitting up. It’s so late.” His voice is a sheet of silk. 

“I thought we were going home?” you ask. 

“We can’t, bub,” —that’s a new one— “not for now. But we will tonight, I promise.” 

“Why not now?” 

He smiles sadly. “‘Cos you’re coming down, Y/N.” 

You frown. “Oh.” 

“I know.” Spencer wraps and arm around your back. “But you’re not alone.” He ducks in until your faces are almost touching. “You know? It’ll go away soon.” 

You don’t know why you say it, but you say, “You’re so nice to me. Even when you’re scary.” 

“Am I scary?” he murmurs. 

You look at him long and hard, feeling the warm rub of his thumb as he smooths a short line into your back. Spencer is intimidating, maybe, because you hadn’t known him when he got out of prison, and he's pretty like a model, or a movie star. But he isn’t scary. That’s not the right word. 

“No,” you say. “I guess not.” You pause. “I feel weird.” 

He doesn’t laugh like you, just hugs you tighter. “It’ll get better.” 

[sun-kissy]

hii i love your writing!! can i please request a scarf 🧣 with james potter + "my hands are freezing, just let me warm them on you for a second," please? thank you!🩷

of course you can, thank you for your request!! here’s your scarf, angel <3

hot cocoa | j.p.

— "My hands are freezing, just let me warm them on you for a second."

james potter x reader

“Jamie! Look at how adorable this is!”

“Huh?” Your boyfriend trudges through the snow from a short distance away, wrapping an arm around your waist as soon as he gets close.

“Oh, yeah. This is really cute,” he grins, taking the miniature from you and examining it. It’s an acrylic-painted Santa Claus, riding a sleigh pulled by a couple of reindeers. “It’ll look perfect on the table in the hallway.”

You place the miniature in your basket, nudging him back towards the stall he was patronising with a peck on his cheek.

James and you were spending the evening at a Christmas market near your place, which he’d spotted during a morning run. 

Your day had started at an ungodly hour when he pounced on you and excitedly shook you awake, sweaty palmed and panting. You listened begrudgingly, half-asleep, as he rambled on and on about the numerous stalls and decorations being set up.

It was impossible to say no to his big, brown eyes and pouty pleading — so here you were a couple hours later. To his credit, you were having loads of fun. You’d managed to find gifts for all your friends. James had even bought a whole new tree, almost as tall as himself. Now, he was looking at ornaments for the tree while you scoured the stalls for decorations to brighten up the apartment.

“Hey, sweetheart. How about this set?” he calls out, waddling over to you with a huge box of shimmering golden baubles and ribbons hugged to his chest. You pull your scarf tighter around yourself, chilly wind nipping at your skin. He hands you the box, fingers brushing against yours.

You shake the box, peering at its contents. “Yeah, I think a gold theme would be nice —“

“Babe.”

“Hm?” You stick a hand in, pulling out a bauble and squinting as you examine it. “This one’s got little hearts —“

“Babe.”

“Yeah?” you look up, and James’ eyebrows are bunched together in a frown. He takes the box from you, half-mindedly closing it and setting it down.

“What’s wrong?”

He sighs and gently grabs your hands, gloved fingers brushing over your reddened knuckles and fraying skin. “You’re cold, sweetheart.”

You smile sheepishly, meeting his gaze. “I’m okay, really. I’m not that cold.”

“No, you are,” he mutters, teeth pressing into his gloves as he pulls them off. “Here, put ‘em on.”

James helps you pull the gloves on, lovingly berating you for not heeding him when he told you to dress warmer before leaving the house. You try to deny feeling the cold, but he’s right — your hands are shaking, teeth jittering when you speak.

He continues to rub your gloved hands between his, worry still contorting his features. “Better?”

You nod, grinning. “Yeah, thanks. You’re my hero.”

He rolls his eyes and tugs you closer to peck your forehead. “Yeah, yeah. Let's go get some hot cocoa to warm you up a bit. I can still feel you trembling.”

James goes to pay for the set of baubles and the trinkets you’ve collected in your basket. He comes back and wraps an arm around your shoulder, steering you towards the café nearby with a kiss to your frigid nose.

You can’t stop the widening smile on your lips as you enter the café, much-needed warm air instantly hitting you. James seats you down, asks you if you’d like a snack with the hot cocoa, tells you to sit tight and that he’d be right back after ordering.

You feel the love like a numbing ache in your chest, worse than the chill in your fingertips. You’d known James a long time. But this was your first year as a couple, first Christmas together. And in moments like this was when you knew how much he really loved you — not that there wasn’t an abundance of affection and kisses everyday, but it really was nice to know how much he cared about something as simple as your feeling cold. 

“What are you smiling at?” he asks with an arched eyebrow, returning to the table holding two mugs. He passes you one and you murmur a quiet, “Thank you,” shaking your head indulgently as you take a sip.

“Nothing. Just… I love you.”

He beams. “I love you too, sweetheart. But what’s this about? Did I win your affection by dramatically giving up my gloves?”

“No, of course not,” you laugh, reaching across the table to whack him. “You’re a jerk. My affection can’t be won.”

“Oh, really?” he chuckles, pulling his hands off the table before being met with your attack. “Fine, then. No more hugs for you.”

“Jamie!”

“What? You’re not feeling cold anyway, a hug wouldn’t do you any good. Your words, not mine.”

You sigh good-naturedly, rolling your eyes. “Actually, my hands are freezing.”

“Oh, are they?” he teases, gently easing your mug of hot cocoa out of your grasp. 

“Yes, they are! Just let me warm them on you for a second,” you laugh, making grabby hands towards him. He puts the two mugs where you can’t reach them, standing up and sliding into the booth seat next to you.

“If my best girl needs to be warmed up, what other choice do I have?” he sighs dramatically, bundling you up in his arms and stamping a kiss to your cheek as you giggle. “You’ve made a loser out of me, babe. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

san’s christmas sleepover

[readwritealldayallnight]

Hello, I love your writing and I'm so sorry to bother you but I'd like to request... it may sound stupid and feel free to ignore this, maybe I'm just venting. Could you do a ghost comforts reader about their hair. Went to the hair salon today and the hairdresser cut off 7inches of my hair 😭. I know it's been said many times before but I literally feel like someone clipped my angel wings. Haven't stopped crying ever since. Hope you're doing good :,)

You were meant to call Simon to come pick you up after your hair appointment was finished, but after the stylist finally spun you around in the chair to face the mirror, you decided you needed the almost 30 minute walk home to be alone with your thoughts

You didn’t want to make this into a big deal when you saw him, it was just hair after all, you could practically already hear his deep Manchester accent telling you that it would grow back in no time

But another part of you was feeling slightly heartbroken, having gone in to the salon for what you hoped would only be a trim, an inch or two off the ends, and instead walked out with an entirely new haircut, wondering if the hairdresser had even been paying attention when you specified you wanted just a small cut

You haven’t had hair this short in a long, long time. Long before you knew Simon. And while you doubt he would ever have anything negative to say about, especially once he sees how bothered you are by it, small part of you can’t help but to worry about what his reaction will be

You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, taking your mind off your pessimistic thoughts for a moment. Glancing at the screen, you see Simon has texted you

Si <3 : ‘Nearly done?’

You : ‘I’m almost home actually, decided to walk’

Si <3 : ‘???’

You : ‘You’ll see’

You : ‘:(‘

Turning the corner and spotting your building, you steady yourself with a deep breath, figuring it’ll be easier to just rip the bandaid off so to speak, and get this stupid reveal over with

Walking up to your front door with keys jingling in hand, you’re surprised when the door swings open before you even have a chance to find your right key, your mountain of a man evidently stood there waiting for you

“What are you doin’, walkin’ home for-” He cuts himself off when his eyes notice the change, irises darting from shoulder to shoulder, over your head again and again before landing on the sour expression on your face

“She took off so much more than I wanted.” You try not to literally whine as you squeeze past his hulking frame to slip into the flat, knowing he’ll be following right behind you. “It was only supposed to be a trim. Now I look-”

“Beautiful.” He cuts you off this time, your head whipping around to see if he’s truly making fun of you right now, but you find no trace of teasing or joking across his expression. Instead, you almost think you see the faintest tint of red creeping across his pale cheeks, his eyes constantly moving as they have trouble deciding where to land on you, taking in your new appearance in a way similar to someone admiring art work in a museum

“What?” You question, wondering if you’d misheard him. Or maybe the countless head injuries were finally catching up to him and he’d confused beautiful with horrendous

He takes a tentative step closer to you, reaching a hand out to slowly run his fingers across the newly cut ends of your hair

“You look beautiful, love. Don’t ya think?” He asks you, digits still gently playing with your locks

“I mean- not really, no. I didn’t want it this short.” You say, though your distaste for the cut is slowly diminishing as you witness just how much the man in front of you adores you

“Think it’s pretty.” He mutters, bringing his other hand up to join the exploration of your hair now. “Haven’t seen ya like this before.”

“You like it?” You ask timidly.

“Mhmm.” He hums in confirmation, stepping even closer to you now, coming around to stand behind you with his hands on your shoulders. “Makes it even easier to do this.” He adds, gently brushing your locks away from your neck before pressing a kiss as gentle as a butterfly below your ear, venturing his lips down tot he side of your neck, your collarbone, any skin his mouth can find

“I- I guess so.” You agree, slinking your own arm back to wrap around his neck, holding him closer to you. “Didn’t realize you’d like it. Was sure you were just gonna tell me ‘it’s hair, it grows back’.” He snorts at your weak attempt to mimic his voice, utterly butchering the accent. You can’t help but let out a small chuckle as well, feeling much lighter now than you did when the stylist first picked up their scissors.

“You’re a smart girl, lovey. Don’t need me tellin’ you that.” He replies, muscular arms coming to wrap around your middle, keeping you as close as he physically can. “You’ll need to show me how to write a review online though. They can’t have my girl coming home this sad and not expect consequences.”

First of all, thank you so much for the love and don’t you or anyone ever apologize for sending in requests or just ranting to me, I always love to hear from you

Second, I’m so sorry your haircut didn’t go the way you wanted :( that can be so tough, but hopefully this short lil drabble puts a smile on your face

Hope you’re doing well!

- M 🫶🏻

[k0yaz]

Hi love 💕 May I request comfort/fluff one shot Arlecchino x fem Reader who developed a terminal illness a few years back and is now often bedridden but is getting better however Arlecchino is still super overprotective of her

white light.

Pairings: arlecchino x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, terminally ill reader, angst, but there’s comfort yay I know yall love this, LOTS of mentions of death, like a ridiculous amount, dw reader doesn’t die but grim reaper bullies us every chance he gets like damn, or is the grim reaper a she, that means my friend is immortal since if death is a woman it’ll never come for them, sorry off topic, very soft arle, yes we love our soft king walskskfj, why is the shower so cold help me, not proofread.

A/N: THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE AND IT TURNED OUT SO NICE HOLY also, school is starting soon so I might have to go on break in couple months but no worries I can find some time to write and it’ll be a while into the year until i actually need a break yk <3 🕯️

The fluffy layered clouds hovering in the sky slowly parted themselves to reveal illuminating gleams of sunlight pouring into the room through the window curtains situated to the right of your bed. Slow gusts of wind began to join the warmth of the gold light, brushing along your skin and causing an array of goosebumps to bloom along your arm. You were lucky. Not too long back, your immobile body was enveloped into the same bed, a sickly hue painting your face as your pale tinged lips could only part to cough out a few strained noises.

Perhaps the gods had took pity on you? You supposed you’d never figure out the answer as to how your body curved back from a terminal illness in its final stage. It was supposed to be incurable, and your body back then seemed to agree with what should have been. You were dangerously dangling right above the realm of death, only a hair apart from succumbing to your imminent demise. The doctor who noted your worsening state only had a strike of pity in her voice whenever she’d inform Arlecchino of your current condition, shaking her head as the words: “she won’t make it.” muffled through the door seperating your room from the outside.

It hurt to hear. Not for you per say, but more to hear the emptiness in Arlecchino’s voice when she attempted to dismiss the doctor’s words coldly. She didn’t want to hear that. She didn’t want to hear that your condition was only drawing you closer and closer to death, she wanted to hear that you atleast had a small chance of surviving. As much as she tried to choke back the bitter pain in her unwavering voice, she always clung onto that small sliver of hope deep down, internally calling out to a sea of nothingness in hopes that something would come help you.

Sudden news of your recovery, or rather your condition suddenly improving one day was nothing short of a miracle. It shouldn’t have been possible at all. You were around the final month mark, your entire body burning with an agonizing rush of soreness as you wanted to plead for death to take you away from the unbearable discomfort searing every limb of your ghastly and thin form. That night you had gone to bed, hoping to escape the aching pain of your illness eating away at you. That was when you saw it. You dreamt of a faint glow of white light—or was it a slight pale yellow? The dream was vague and confusing, and held no meaning at all. The light simply danced in circles before you as your life trajectory seared across your eyes.

However, the dream must have meant something.

The next morning you had awoken, your body feeling much lighter all of a sudden, as you had the strength to now sit up completely. Hands carefully massaging the thick blanket draped over your lap, you blinked in confusion upon realizing that you were indeed alive and able to sit up. Sure, you were still incapable of moving around or sitting up for long, but originally, you weren’t even able to raise your body a quarter of the way up, as it would simply result in your spine slamming back into the sunken, comfortable mattress.

When the doctor made her way into the room, performing her checkups which she believed to be futile and tragic, her initial expression of sorrow shifted to one of quick shock. This shouldn’t have been even the slightest bit possible. Arlecchino’s reaction was all the more endearing the moment the newly discovered news made its way to her. You’d never forget the rare smile of pure relief and happiness crossing her usually stoic front, seeming as if Arlecchino was glowing in that moment.

She had attempted to clear her throat and position herself upright, concealing the internal delight bubbling in her mind at that moment. The door had softly creaked open, the sway of the old hinges on your bedroom door being the only noise, along with the quiet howls of wind, resounding within the cell of a room that held your life by a mere thread.

You simply sat there, your scrawny form nearly engulfed by the heavy blankets cascaded onto your lap as the light livened the hue of your face. And when that sweet smile made its way onto your lips weakly upon seeing the harbinger hover before your bed, Arlecchino had to suppress every urge of hers to hem you between her arms in a tight hug and never let go. She wanted to embrace you with every drop of love and affection lingering in her heart as her blackened hands tightened into your back, like a promise to never let you go. Since then, your condition had steadily improved. Months passed, and then years. At this very moment, you now had the ability to walk around and perform minor tasks adequately, yet you still remained bedridden for the majority of your time.

A light pain slowly overtook the side of your chest abruptly, drawing out a few heavy coughs from your throat as your palm pushed against your left breast in an attempt to soothe the throb pushing and pulling against your heart. Quiet ticks of the clock seemed to inch in sync with the rugged beats of your heart, both echoing throughout the room in a sort of twisted harmony. Although your condition had gotten better, storms of weakness and coughs would still persist through, as this was quite a serious illness you suffered from.

The silk white blankets enveloped your limp frame, cascading over your body and situated slightly below your chest, while the back of your head burrowed into the pillows to bask in the favorable comfort enshrouded around every outline of your lounged body. Your chest rhythmically rose and fell as you choked out a few labored breaths, still clenching your fingers against the fabric of your loose shirt covering your chest.

Your vision suddenly started a gradual spin, objects within your range slowly drawn out of focus, and not taking long for the spin to pick up the pace as your vision suddenly shifted to a bleary mess of the room. Head tilting back, you rasped out a line of shaky breaths as the frightening episode of dizziness quickly subsided as soon as it began, causing a sense of panic to rush through you briefly while your chest rose and fell in uneven motions from your initial fright. In that very moment, a small screech of wooden hinges caught your attention, your head carefully raising as to not incite any possible negative reaction from your sensitive body.

Swift and heavy clicks of heels prodded across the room, a sound you’d recognize anywhere even if you were miles away. You raised your head barely even level to the headboard, delivering Arlecchino a feeble smile as her eyes softened upon meeting yours. Slowly, you took her hand into yours, palm resting over the top of her defined knuckles as your thumb circled along the cursed gradient of her hands gently. She could only breathe out a grateful sigh, her head dropping in a restful state as she rested herself onto your shoulder affectionately.

“Are you feeling any better?” She almost immediately questioned, her usually composed eyes having a flicker of concern dashed across them. Her eyes wandered along your frail body, the hints of worry still subtly etched onto her face as her grasp on your hand below hers grew increasingly taut and stiff as she awaited your answer. As much as you wanted to chuckle and tell her you were okay, you clearly couldn’t even say that much.

“Hm. Same as usual. Can’t move my legs well today, but I’ll live.” You casually answered, not taking in the impact your words might have placed onto Arlecchino.

Live.

She was so glad you were able to live.

Arlecchino suddenly dragged her teeth along each other, her mouth remaining closed as the grit of her teeth quietly bounced off of her cheek into her eardrums. It took everything she had to swallow back that wretched feeling boiling up to her throat, her heart wrenching and flooding with discomfort upon hearing the way you threw your life around so casually in your words. She had always been extensively protective over you ever since your condition deteriorated, yet it grew exponentially once you began to recover over the years. She’d always tend to you, sometimes never leaving your side for hours on end as she’d just sit there, head lowered and lips pushed against your frail hand.

Her grip on your hand tensed noticeably, making you shift your eyes up to her lowered dark gaze, staring off into an endless abyss as her expression just seemed…soulless and empty at the mere thought of your passing away. She was afraid. Afraid that just when she believes that her beloved would live despite being in poor condition, she’d walk into your room one day to discover your heart dead still, body completely limp and deceased.

The thought of that made her hand noticeably quiver between yours, disturbing images of your possible sudden death plaguing her mind like a broken subliminal record trying to shatter her soul by tearing away the one person she loves most in this cruel world. It was indeed cruel, as this very world had targeted the reaper to loom over the side of your bed at all times, carefully awaiting the moment to take you away from Teyvat. Arlecchino internally cursed herself at the idea that perhaps this punishment was because of her. She wanted you to be spared. You weren’t the one with blood on your hands, she was.

Despite her agonizing thoughts gnawing at the back of her mind, your sudden firm grip on her hand made her head snap back up abruptly, eyes locking onto your thin fingers cupping her shaky hand in place. If she could, Arlecchino would cry at this very moment, allow herself to shed a couple tears. Yet she knew she couldn’t. She didn’t want to worry you any further, especially in your current state.

“Arle, I’m staying. Please, don’t worry about me. I am better now, right?”

“I know. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t around.”

It was evident that Arlecchino had a difficult time a few years ago, when you were announced to die in under a couple months. She had to mentally prepare herself to lose you soon. She was used to it, you were just another person in her life that slipped away too soon, right?

But she couldn’t.

She couldn’t bear losing you. It was too much even for her.

Arlecchino needed you in her life, and she’d wipe out the entirety of the world just to keep you safe.

Your hand reached up to graze along the skin of her cheek, smiling as she instinctively leaned into your touch. Her eyes fluttered shut as she held your hand in place against her cheek, opening her eyelids once more to gaze at you lovingly with red x-marked eyes.

“Hey Arle, I’m still not feeling the best today…so do you think you could-“

You didn’t even get a chance to finish your hesitant sentence as she lowered herself onto the side of your bed, squeezing herself next to you as her arms gently circled your torso and grasped you against her. You only hummed out a content sigh as you felt your slouched back press to her upright chest, the difference in your postures just making the moment oddly romantic and sweet. Arlecchino’s face buried into your shoulder, intaking a soft inhale as if she missed your scent clouding her senses every time she was close to you.

It didn’t take long for you to drift off to sleep in Arlecchino’s arms as you curled up into the warm blankets piled over both of you. Arlecchino, still awake, quietly shifted her weight onto her side to glance down at you, smiling softly upon seeing your peaceful rested expression. Maybe finally, she rinsed the lingering blood splattered on her hands that led you to this awful fate. She’d rinse it a thousand times if it meant that you would remain safe like this for as long as you lived.

However in this very moment? Arlecchino had forgotten every sense of dread clawing at her constantly, instead focusing on your huddled up form engulfed between her protective grasp.

She swore that she would never let you go again, and she would treasure every inch of you. Not even death can do you two part.

A/N: omg I kept switching between being proud of this and being not so proud bc I had to stop midway through and I lost my train of thought AUUUSHSHDBFN anyway yayayayashshdhd I loved writing this so much AND CALM DOWN ON THE ARLE REQUESTS HOLY SH-

ok bye I’m gonna go on character ai cause I can’t sleep to bed

[s-4pphics]

drenched in white. (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: after all your time alone, you’re finally not, but you’re definitely not prepared for your new life. [jackson AU]

WORD COUNT: 7.1K

WARNINGS: readers mute and taller than ellie, death, murder, blood, mentions of alcohol/starvation/hypothermia, a bit of gore, near death experience, trauma and sadness, brief girls kissing, some fluff because kids :)

A/N: tbh idk where this came from but i missed ellie so yeah prob wont write anymore of this but yeah 

—

Apocalypses are fucking stupid.

Humans are born into nothing, forced to run all their lives from blood-lustful beasts that can rewire their entire brain chemistry into one that sadistically matches theirs, and if that doesn’t happen, you die anyway with nothing but the clothes on your back and a horse with no rider. That’s fucking stupid. 

You weren’t alive when the world was thriving… presumably so — whatever the old world considered thriving. Those history books you stole in adolescence would argue otherwise, but there were some happy moments. On occasion. Maybe? Whatever. But you weren’t there, and you can only imagine how you would’ve turned out if you were. Would you be married? Have children? Own property? Businesses? Whatever other luxury the old world prioritized although it all seemed exhausting? 

Would you be an addict, a trainwreck, someone who had it all then nothing in the blink of an eye? That seems to be reoccurring in some of those biographies you found about people called celebrities. They have everything then die too young or way too old and eventually fade into a nobody, just like everyone else. History is so heartbreaking. Such cruel fate. 

You’ve been by yourself for a long time. Some would still consider you young, but you feel like a zombie that’s risen from the grave most of the time. You steal and live selfishly and waste your life reading because you can. You’re lucky enough to no longer have anyone you care about. Your recklessness doesn’t hinder anyone but yourself, so you read read read. Sometimes, you hunt for books more than you do for food. You’re not a fighter — it surprises you every day how you haven’t died yet — but a decent amount of people would consider you book smart. This one group you crossed paths with some years ago called you a genius because you’re self-taught in practically everything: reading and writing, starting fires, planting food, sewing, mapping plains. Whenever you’re harmed, you can heal yourself kinda. When you were 14, you stepped on a rusty nail and, instead of living the short remainder of your life as an amputee, you heroed through a disgusting infection that left you ill for 2 weeks, then sewed your own wound up. You couldn’t walk for days. 

That same group also called you mute. 

You don’t think you are, but rightfully so. There’s no one for you to talk to, so you don’t talk, simple as that. Everyone you knew died when you were a kid, maybe 7 or 8 — spending the majority of your life alone and in hiding doesn’t make for much conversation. Plus, the fucks that rule the Earth are nosy as hell. Being as quiet as possible is needed. 

Reading passes time. It’s the last phase of winter, but it’ll be Spring in no time, thanks to the bag you drag through snow: stuffed with one jacket, a rusted chef’s knife, and 46 different novels and counting. 

Your body’s gonna shut down on you. It’s so fucking cold and you’re barely layered but you haven’t finished The Cable Companies, One Hundred and One Best Songs. The pages filled with piano notes are almost enough to make you hear the songs… Or maybe the lack of nutrients is making you hallucinate. Guess you’ll find out when you finish. Just 22 more pages. 

No food, no water, no warmth, no antique piano. You’re fucked any direction you turn. 

There was a small cave somewhere around here. You used to sleep in it during the summer; the dark was always cooler. Maybe it’s buried underneath heaps of snow. You hope not. Fuck. 

The closer you get to the cavern, the grosser the air becomes. Death carries a certain mugginess. Why’d they have to die next to your one retreat? 

You drag and drag on like your legs weigh a ton all the way to the cave and… Great. 

Death and no entrance. Red coats the snow and it reminds you of the twisted tale of Snow White. The decaying carcass of a deer should alarm you, but you only sigh in defeat. Where the fuck are you supposed to read without disturbance? 

You only make it two more steps before you collapse face-first into ice. Your lungs wheeze in pain and you’re trying to get yourself up but you can’t. When you blink, you see colors. 

Is this death? Or karma? A squirrel runs past you just to rub it in. Furry little bitch. 

It’s only when your brain whispers for you to give up that you fully submerge into the snow. Small cries of pain are the only proof of your survival. 

Fuck everything. Fuck people, fuck people that turned into monsters, fuck all the stupid trivial shit that the other world loved so deeply. Call it jealousy. Everything’s for nothing nowadays. 

Your final thought before the world goes dark. 

—

Why is there annoying beeping in heaven? 

Maybe you’re naive in believing you made it there. Maybe this is hell. You thought it’d be more fucked up than this. The beeping is irritating though. Besides that, it’s peaceful. 

Is this an in between world? Half dead, half not. You remember being into paranormal shit in horror stories years ago. Ghostly entities and whatnot. Maybe you’re… that. There’s whispers in the background. Bleary and distant but you kinda hear them. Maybe someone’s conjuring you up. Why you of all people? 

“— ne… de…” 

Need? Your ears are failing. Why is everything suddenly hurting? Pain in your eyes and behind them and all the way down. It’s hurting everywhere. 

“—Jus… there… Not sure.” 

It’s hurts so bad everywhere make it stop make it stop —

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

White overtakes your vision. Too bright and too cold and you can’t stop heaving but you want to because it fucking hurts everywhere

“Hey! Hey! Calm—” 

The voices are clearer and so is the beeping and so is the pain. Gentle hands land on your shoulders and you thrash when faces, needles and medical equipment clear in your vision. There’s something sharp in your arm. Where the fuck when the fuck how —

“You needa calm down—“

You try to tell this blonde freak to go fuck herself but your voice is shot, coughing and spit flying everywhere. 

“The fuck is her probl—“

“Be quiet—“

A crackling scream ripples through you, tears streaming down your face because suddenly more hands are holding you down. Malicious intent or not it makes you fucking sick. The beeping only gets faster. 

“MY — my name’s Maria! Listen to me! My name’s Maria! Some of mine went out on patrol a few days ago and found you almost buried. We’re tryna help you!” 

You continue to sob but they’re a little less guttural. Her voice is nice. Very motherly. 

“You were halfway dead out there,” She huffs like it’s funny and you wanna throw a chair, “What’s your name? Gotta name?” 

All the hands are off you except Maria’s. Maybe because you’re not trying to kick her face in anymore. You’re trying to tell her you don’t fucking remember but nothing comes out. Just more coughing. 

“Take your time. Deep breaths, shhh, you’re alright.” 

You finally meet her eyes and they’re pretty. Pale blue like spring water. The beeping starts to slow bit by bit. It took you all this time to realize that’s your heart. You glimpse at the monitor and… those squiggly lines mean fuck all to you. Why couldn’t you just die?

Your eyes travel, albeit less frantically, but on high guard. Skeptical as ever. You couldn’t even defend yourself against these incredibly polite barbarians if you wanted to. Your bag’s gone. Everything that’s yours is gone. The beeps increase all over again. Maria must sense your anxiety. 

“Hey, hey, we have everything. We just had to make sure you were… alright to come in. No bites or nothing, ‘k?” 

… Fair. Whatever. Gimme my shit. 

“We were snoopin’,” Your vision follows the new voice. A man this time, average sized and bearded, “Ya like t’read?” 

You squint and nod. 

“‘S a good habit.” 

… Awkward. It’s quiet now. 

“How ya feelin’? Any pain?” Maria pries gently. You shrug. Not as bad as it was 2 minutes ago. You eye everyone in here, study as much of them as you can. Face, hands, guns latched around their thighs and shoved in their belts. They’re all threats while simultaneously being unthreatening. For now, at least. 

“Y’all can get on. I got it from here.” She waves the remaining people off and they leave with tense smiles. The door clicks behind them. The beeping is the slowest it’s been since you woke up. 

“Bout that name…” 

You only stare at her. 

“Don't remember?”

You scratch at your neck, and she sighs, “Not much of a talker, huh?” 

You mime writing in a notepad, and Maria quirks with interest. She searches the room before digging through a drawer on the farthest dresser. She returns with a small book and marker. 

The aches in your fingers don’t halt your scribbling. You turn the book towards her. 

ARE YOU GOING TO KILL ME? 

The corner of her mouth lifts, “No point in fixin’ ya up if that was the case. No offense, but you’re not threatening.” 

You snort. 

“You been by yourself for a while?” 

You ponder before scribbling. 

I WATCHED MY FAMILY DIE. PRETTY FUCKED UP CHILDHOOD. I’M ALWAYS ALONE. 

She stares sympathetically and shakes her head in apologies. All you can do is shrug. You’d be more surprised if a kid grew up in this world without experiencing mass destruction. Trauma practically raised you. 

“There’s not many people that can do what you do, y’know? You gotta gift.” She jerks her chin at the booklet. “Somebody taught’cha?” 

You point to yourself. 

“Don’t let that head get big now.” She smirks and you smile sorta. 

“We got kids…” Maria blindly points towards the door. 

“A lot of ‘em, and we’ve been tryna get them to read more but… I don’t know, some of these old bastards think it’s pointless and that discourages them.”

Oh. 

“I don’t know what you got goin’ on out there, but… If you choose to go back out there, I won’t fault you, but if you don’t…” 

Uh oh. 

“How do you feel ‘bout teaching toddlers their ABCs?” 

… Shit. 

You scowl. 

“I know it’s not the best… position to be in but, I don’t know, I just want something they can look forward to everyday. A new story, some new conversations… anything to get their little brains crankin’.” 

“They’re so sweet and I feel like they’d gain so much from someone who cares just as much as they do.” 

You don’t write anything. Her pupils shroud with dejection. 

“Think about it?” She’s quick to turn away, but not without one last look over her shoulder, “Rest up.” 

And the door closes. Your eyes shut in no time, and a comforting darkness overtakes you once more. 

—

Leave with nothing but your annotated novels or stay where you’re well fed and warm but surrounded by snotty nosed orphans. Something to think about. 

You’ve been in Jackson — you learned the town is called — for less than 48 hours, most of which you were recovering from a severe case of hypothermia. You don’t remember the last time you had a meal that hot. Maria had to reassure you that no one would take your plate. 

You still haven’t given Maria a clear answer for her teaching proposal, but she doesn’t bug you about it. She is very eager to show you the daycare though. She’s subtle. You respect it. 

Your books are still couped up in the infirmary because, frankly, you hate dragging them everywhere. Maria offered for you to keep them in the library, but you refused. They’re not up for grabs; You nearly died for every single one of those pages and you’ll be damned if someone touches them under your nose. They’re yours. It’s all you got right now. 

You might even leave with a horse if Maria still likes you after telling her no to teaching. Tomorrow morning will wrap up your little dead-then-alive journey. Couldn’t hurt to ask. 

It’s your first time back outside since your near-death experience. The sun is barely peeking from behind the clouds and your face is so cold it’s almost retraumatizing, but it’s pretty out. Maria was nice enough to give you new boots that weren’t hanging on by their laces. 

Jackson bustles like a real, non-apocalyptic town. Lights shine and pick-ups honk and people are fucking smiling? Maybe this is heaven. 

Those walls… They’re still high and barricaded. Scouts babysit those gates like clockwork. To think you were on the other side of their scrutiny just a day ago. The twinkling sound of joy confuses the fuck outta you. Laughter. Not only that, but from children. Not starving, nearly dead children, but well-fed, genuinely happy kids. Why does your stomach twist with jealousy? They deserve peace, of course, but so did you. So does every child. 

Your eyes search for them — curiosity overtakes your limbs and you step with determination, guided by your ears. The twinkles grow in volume — there must be at least 10 kids playing in the snow. 

“HEY! GET OFF, YOU FU—“

“Language!”

“HOW’S THIS FOR LANGU—“

“BOYS! ENOUGH! I’M SICK OF YOUR SHI—!”

“LANGUAGE, MS. DINA!”

“I CAN SAY THAT! YOU CAN’T!”

What a sight this is. Happy kids. Your heart swells. Slightly; you’re glad Maria isn’t here to catch your fondness. 

“Alright, vermins, get up, I’ll miss the party.” 

“5 more minutes, pleeease!”

“I’m not freezing for you. C’mon!” 

The kids seem to love Ms. Dina. They dangle off every single one of her limbs, begging her to throw at least 10 more snowballs. Maybe your ice-cold heart isn’t as frosty as you thought. The sight is disgustingly endearing. 

“Ms. Dina… Who’s that?” 

And the laughter stops. A bunch of eyes attached to tiny bodies all gawk at you, some with intrigue, others with fear as they cower behind their teacher… babysitter? Whoever she is. 

“Not sure, dove. You all have 10 minutes!” 

“20!”

“10 or freeze to death! Go!”

Excited screams filter through the wind when said vermins squabble in snow like puppies, pushing and shoving and chucking icy bullets at each other. You never had to worry about being the oddball out, but you sure do look like one now. 

“Hey. Maria told us about a scrounger.” 

Creases bunch in your forehead, and Dina raises her hands defensively, “Joking, relax. So, are you staying, or…?” You shrug unknowing, and Dina chuckles. 

“I think you should. If I had the option to stay here 24/7, I’d take it in a heartbeat. We could use an extra hand with the kids. Maria said you read?” 

You nod. “Cool. We have a decent amount of readers — more than most, but, uh… yeah. Our kids need help.”

Your lip twitches alongside your pondering. So many questions rest on your tongue but none can leave. Dina’s eyes are consoling. It shouldn’t spark irritation in your stomach but it does. 

“Do you sign?” 

You stare in confusion, and she elaborates, “Like… Sign language?” Her hands make a bunch of gestures you don’t understand and your head shakes. 

“Darn. No worries. If you’re ever interested in learning, just holler. We got some people that are hard of hearing so we all kinda use it occasionally. But, umm… yeah. I’m Dina.” She extends a polite hand but you don’t accept it. Your head jerks in greeting, and she smiles. 

She drops it back to her side, “What should we call you?” 

You don’t know. You don’t care. You’re not staying long. Your shoulders rise and fall nonchalantly. 

“Should I have them pick?” 

Before you can oppose, she’s hollering for— 

“DYLAN! COME HERE!”

A rascal with a beanie and bright red boots sprints towards the two of you. His cheeks are so plush and scarred. Dina fixes the color of his sweater, “Dylan, what’s a good name for a teacher?” 

“Ms. Dina, obviously—“

“Another name.” 

Chipmunk Boy ponders for a moment before snickering, “Mr. Octopus.” 

“Fucking hell—“

“Language, Ms. Dina! SWEAR JAR—“

“We don’t even do that here!”

“Okay, okay… just call them Dove or something! Don’t think we don’t notice you calling us that when you forget our names!” 

Dina’s eyes widen, “That’s not true! What the… freak!” 

Red-Boot-Ranger smirks when Dina catches herself before getting pelted at the back of the head with a snowball. 

“Little BITCH—“

Dina shouts, “HEY!—“

“MS. DINA, FRANKIE CURSED!”

“NO, I DIDN’T—“

Arguments break out between all 13 children, loud and boisterous and your head pounds. Too much for one day. 

“STOP— sorry, I gotta handle this, but it was nice meeting you! BOYS—“ 

Dina throws you one last wave before rushing off to scold Dylan and his… bully? You think that’s what they were called in some books you read. A kid messing with another kid or something like that. 

You take this last bit of alone time before you depart to explore. 

Despite your eagerness to disappear, Jackson is nice. You don’t know what Christmas entails, but it’s often described as festive: a day for togetherness and family and whatever the hell else ‘can’t be bought’ yet everyone buys. Jackson is visually festive. Celebratory scenery. What exactly they’re celebrating goes over your head. There’s nothing to be joyous over. Death traps Jackson at every corner. 

Loud music pulls you from your thoughtful stroll. One look through a very large window is enough to scare you shitless. A seemingly cozy space is filled to the brim with strangers who dance and drink and laugh their heads off; Their familiarity with one another makes you physically ill. The scene is like a bullet to the chest. Reminds you of what was once home.

Your nausea doesn’t overtake your curiosity, though. 

The moment you step into the bar, warmth suffocates you, heat sizzling through your legs as your face defrosts. The entire bar screams out lyrics to a song you never heard while cups get refilled with burning liquid and it’s overwhelming. There’s so much movement. Too much. 

Blonde hair swings out the corner of your eye and you’re instantly relieved. You hustle to where Maria chats with partygoers from across the bar. She’s shocked to see you. 

“Hey! You’re up’n moving!” 

You wave awkwardly. Gawk back at the people that gawk at you before Maria hands you a glass. 

“You drink?” You deny with a raised hand, and she smiles. 

“Probably not the best time to ask,” She hollers over the jukebox, “I’m hoping this is your initiation?” Her eyes are hopeful, and your throat dries a bit. Why are you hesitating to answer?

Maria’s nice enough… probably the nicest stranger you’ve ever met in your entire life, and it seems more comfortable in Jackson than anywhere you’ve been. It doesn’t seem so bad… but you don’t like children. You barely liked yourself at age 10; short and clumsy and vulnerable. Children are too exposed and trusting, even in this life. They get people killed because they’re not careful. It shocks you that a fortress like Jackson carries so many. 

A pen and paper get slid on wood and placed in front of you. You eye Maria, and she nods encouragingly. You waste no time. 

I DON’T THINK I’LL BE A GOOD TEACHER. DINA HAS MORE PATIENCE IN HER PINKY THAN I DO IN MY ENTIRE BODY. I’M SORRY. 

You meekly hold the note up for Maria, and you know she’s disappointed. You patiently wait for her to tell you to get your shit so she can kick you out herself. 

It never comes. 

“I hope that girl didn’t scare you,” In reference to Dina, and you deny, “I had a feeling you’d say no. It’s alright. Kids are… a lot.” 

You set the paper down in relief that she’s not angry. About that horse… 

“Doesn’t hurt to ask… You still wanna leave?” 

That stuns you. Oftentimes, large groups aren’t so welcoming to… scroungers, or whatever Dina made you out to be. The less mouths to feed, the better. If a newbie holds no purpose, they’re left out to die on their own. It’s happened to you countless times. Why does she care about a stranger so much?

Maria chuckles at your stunned expression, “It’s, um… it’s hard out there. We’ve all seen it, and we’re lucky to have found somewhere… stable. It doesn’t come often.” 

“The choice is still yours, stayin’ or goin’, but if you’re scared I’ll kick you out… don’t be. We got nothin’ but space.” 

Your mind races yet not one cohesive response comes through. Maria laughs at your slack jaw. “Here. Sleep on it tonight, and let me know in the mornin’. It’s a party! Let loose a little. Go mingle.“

You scribble on the last bit of remaining space. 

I’M NOT A PEOPLE PERSON. 

Maria huffs, “Neither’s my niece. She’s like a niece to me, that one, over there.” She points at the end of the bar to a woman, girl — looks around your age, babysitting a drink: tatted, hair pulled back, and sulking. She talks with a guy with a mullet that’s too movie-star ready. “You two’d get along, I think. Her name’s Ellie. Jesse’s the one next to her, he’s a sweetheart. Very helpful. If Dina was here, they’d be the Three Musketeers. She still with the kids?”

You nod, but your eyes are locked onto Ellie’s tattoo. You’ve never seen one in person. In romance books, people with tattoos are always trouble: good in bed with murderous tendencies. Maybe it’s wrong to assume, but Ellie doesn’t seem like that. No one that pouty would kill a fly. You wonder if her friend has tattoos. He’d fit the stereotype more.

“Wanna meet ‘em?” 

Fire bursts underneath your cheeks. You vehemently shake your head at Maria, and mischief glints in her eyes. 

“HEY, ELLIE, JES—“

You gawk at Maria, tugging at her wrist for her to stop, but she laughs, “Hey, you two!”

Your face falls into your palm. “Need somethin’, Maria?” A deep voice blares. Jesse, apparently. Fucking great.  

“No, hun. Just introducing a new friend,” Maria whispers loud enough for you to hear before tending to other patrons, “Convince her to stay?” 

Your eyes roll and your heart pulses. 

“… Hey.” 

You wave weakly. Annoyed, and Jesse laughs. “Yeah, she’s a lot sometimes. I’m Jesse.” You send him a thumbs up. 

“… Gotta name yourself?”

You shrug with agitation. If someone else asks you that, you’ll scream. 

“… Hm. Okay, then. I’m gonna get another drink. Want one?” You decline as politely as your attitude allows. 

“You, El?” 

“M’good.” 

“Alright,” He hums too uppity, “Enjoy the quiet.” He goofs before following Maria to the other end of the bar. Silence ensues between you and Ellie, and it’s fucking awkward. It wouldn’t be if you were by yourself. You pick at the piece of paper in front of you. 

Ellie adjusts her stance, attention on the dance that dominates the floor, her tatted arm propping her up against the bar. You can see the fine lines out the corner of your eye: leaves of a fern resting underneath a moth. A Polyphemus. Compulsive. A symbol of death, you once read somewhere. Regardless, it’s beautifully done. 

“Want a picture?” 

You stiffen and your gaze drops to the paper. Your eyelids squeeze shut in embarrassment. 

Ellie releases a hefty breath before sighing, “You read?” She asks, and you shrug. 

“You don’t talk?” You do nothing. 

She already sounds annoyed by you. You hope she notices you’re in the same boat. “It’s better if you don’t.” She mumbles to herself. You throw a glare in her direction, but she pays you no mind. She’s focused elsewhere, eyes much more delicate. You discreetly follow her line of vision. 

… Dina. Hilarious. Is she a god here? Good with children and the annoying and aloof? Everyone here claps and hoots at her being dipped by her partner like they’ve never seen dancing before. When did she even get here? Where are the kids? Maybe they’re all snowballed out and went to bed—

… What. What the fuck? You don’t care, what the hell. 

You turn back to Ellie when Dina waves at her, wide-eyed and princess-y, before waltzing towards Jesse to throw her arms around his neck, which he eagerly returns around her waist. Ellie’s expression goes from lovestruck to tense in an instant, jaw clenched and eyes burning through the floor. You try to hide a snicker. 

Ellie’s jealous. Adorable. 

“The fuck are you smiling for?” She grumbles at you, but her cheeks burn under the yellow light. Your laughter finally bubbles over. 

“Nothing’s funny. Shut the fuck—“

“Well, what’d I tell you! Two wallflowers hittin’ it off! Look at that smile!” 

Maria graciously interrupts Ellie’s angered mantra. Your hand hides your grin before a light hand brushes your back. You flinch away on instinct. No one notices except Ellie. 

Dina greets you first and you almost holler with joy, “Hey, Dove! Sorry I didn’t come over earlier! Had to get this circus goin’ since no one else did,” She casually takes Ellie’s glass and downs its contents with no problem, “Thank you.” 

“Such a dick.” Ellie says slowly, and Dina smiles. “You love me.” 

You pinch your smile away. 

“Dove?” Maria inquiries. 

Dina shrugs, “Better than Doe. Makes her sound like a corpse. Dove’s cute.”

“Cute for a bitch,” Ellie slips under her breath, and Dina slaps her arm in scolding. Tames her until she quiets like an actual bitch. This shit is hilarious. 

“I like that. Dove.” Maria approves. “It’s… fitting. Joel found her buried in white, so.” 

“Okay, Mrs. Poet—“

Maria’s married? Huh. 

She hushes Dina playfully. The dark-haired girl interlaces Ellie’s fingers with hers before yanking her off the bar and onto the dance floor. The music slows as if cued just for them. Dina pulls Ellie into her, and Ellie’s hands rest on her waist. 

Dina leads, surprisingly. 

Ellie’s expression doesn’t scream delight. She’s nerve wracked and her eyes flit over every body that surrounds her with anxiety. Even yours. 

Dina’s a good distraction. She's quite seductive when she brushes loose hair behind Ellie’s ear, caresses her cheek, touches her with tenderness that you’ve only seen described on paper. Only in your imagination was it real. 

Kisses her.

Oh. 

You turn away. Your skin’s hot. Maria’s distracted. Thank God. You’ve had enough mingling for tonight. You leave the bar without a trace, the pen and paper left on the stand the only evidence of your appearance. 

“Hey! HEY! Ms. Dina’s friend!”

“They’re not friends, she just got here—“

“Shut up! Ms. Dina always said respect your olders—“

“Elders, dumbfuck. And she doesn’t look old—“

Ah, the potty-mouthed bully. Although, he doesn’t seem so threatening in the darkness. Children are the bane of your existence. You’re nowhere near the infirmary. Why are they out in the cold by themselves? 

“Hey, Ms. Dina’s friend, how was the party! Ms. M said we aren’t allowed to go in because people are… drunk, whatever that means!” 

The same voice from earlier. Red-boot-Ranger. Dylan. 

“It means they’re alcoholics—“ A girl this time. Shorter than Dylan but just as expressive. 

“I thought alcohol made people happy?“

“Could be, but my aunt drank herself to death so I guess it’s different for everyone!” 

Goddamn. 

“What’s your name, miss! … Ma’am?” Dylan corrects shyly. 

“Ma'am means grandma—“

“Ruth, shut the hell up, Jesus!” 

“NO, YOU SHUT UP—“

Dylan waits expectantly while the other two kids attempt to rip each other’s heads off. You flap your hands like wings. 

“… Fly? Your name’s fly?” 

You shake your head and point upward. 

“OH! Sky!—“

You wave your hands in denial and flap your arms while squawking. 

“… Bird? Bald Eagle? Um…” 

You yank at your hair in exasperation before pointing down at untouched, white snow beneath your feet. 

“Snow? Snow bird? Uhh… Swan… Lake?”

Decent guess. This fucking sucks. 

“I don’t know what your name is, miss, I’m sorry.” Fucking Christ, the poor thing looks so upset. You’re suddenly the worst human being on the planet. “Are you mad at me?” Dylan asks, voice laced with insecurity, and something cracks in your chest. What the fuck. Your hands wave in denial apprehensively, and he exhales a held breath before smiling. 

“I like you! Why don’t you talk?” 

You sigh before scribbling on your palm like you did with Maria, and all three kids excitedly demand writing utensils from each other. 

“I DON’T HAVE A MARKER!” Frankie hisses when Ruth slaps him on the shoulder. 

“DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO BE SUCH AN ASS? FREAKO!”

“Freako! ARE YOU FIVE—“

“What are you kiddos still doin’ up?” 

“MR. JOEL!”

Ruth and Dylan practically jump onto this old man and he groans mockingly. Joel. Hm. 

“You’re all supposed to be sleep. Did Dina not tuck you in?”

“She did, but we snuck out. We’re bored! Please throw snowballs at us!” Frankie whines. 

Joel calmingly caters to the children and their hyperactivity; his voice is very soothing. Gentle enough for the kids to accept that he’s not chucking snowballs at them this late at night. 

Joel addresses you. “Maria decided to keep you ‘round?” 

It was him. His eyes are calm and welcoming, but there’s a hollowness behind them. It’s hardly noticeable, but he’s bothered by something. He masks it well enough for the kids. He must be a dad. Maybe one of them is his. You just shrug, and he chuckles; crackles like fire. Breaks a bit. His eyes grow sadder the longer he stares at you. Is this man about to cry? 

“I’ll, uh… I’ll walk ‘em back,” He nods at Dylan who’s already half asleep on his shoulder, and you nod. He gives you one last look before turning. You clutch onto his hand before he can go any further. He seems shocked by the gesture, but you squeeze it with all your might. You hope every clench reads as a thank you thank you thank you. 

He swallows before nodding down at you, returning your gentle squeezes. The last breath he takes before leading the kids home is unsteady. Who broke that poor man’s heart? 

You watch his back all the way down the trail until the door to the bar slams shut. It’s Ellie all bundled up and seemingly about to strangle somebody. You can see Dina and Jesse scrambling to follow her through the window, but Ellie’s determined to get the fuck outta range. 

You don’t know why, but you whistle loud enough to get her attention. Her cheeks are blazing and her eyes are pained and angry. 

“The fuck do you want?” Her breath frosts with each spit she throws. You’re not really sure, so you throw her a thumbs up. Two just in case she read it as good work instead of are you good? 

She scoffs a laugh that sounds like a sob, “Fuck off.” And she’s off again. The opposite direction from Joel. 

Alright. Fuck her too. 

—

The past 5 days have been a blur. 

The morning after the party, your brain wracked to put every single interaction together but came up short. So much happened that you can barely grasp it. You died, came back, met at least 100 people, experienced acute peer pressure, and got cussed out by some short, tattooed psychopath with an equivalent amount of people skills as you. 

You’ve met teachers, medical professionals, rambunctious kids with a hunger similar to rhinos, a potential dad with an insane amount of patience, but all you can think about is Ellie and her fucking tattoo. 

You think that same moth appeared in your dream last night, flapping around and pissing you off. 

Maria’s been in a good mood, at least. Maybe because you’re staying in Jackson until further notice. You’re glad she didn't make a big deal about it: the inquiry was short and over breakfast the morning after the party. You slid her note that read CAN I STAY?, she said yes, and now you have a two story home all to yourself, floor stacked to the ceiling with your books and some she lent you. 

The first thing you did after she left was scream bloody murder for no reason other than relief. After years of instability, you finally have something consistent. You don’t know how to react to that besides weeping. 

There’s only one downside. Ellie’s your neighbor. Life will always humble you. 

She’s the first person you see every morning and the last every night and you hate it. The only time you experience true peace is when she’s out on patrol. To think you assumed Ellie wasn’t violent. She returned one morning on her horse covered knee-high in blood as she wiped her switchblade on her dirtied jeans. Even Jesse seemed intimidated. 

Meanwhile, you’ve been everywhere: tending the garden, handing beers out to men twice your age, fixing lights. Joel even asked for assistance on a car repair even though you’ve never seen one in your life. You both finished, though. Drives good as new. 

You think Dylan’s grown attached. He’s very clingy and you hate it but he also has the chubbiest cheeks you’ve ever seen so you have no choice but to forgive him for his sins. Whenever he jumps on your back while you’re squatted in front of the garden, you just deal with it. He rambles enough for the both of you. 

Now you’re serving dinner with a homophobe. Yippee. 

Seth sucks gorilla balls. When Maria first introduced you both, he thought you were deaf and asked if you had to be put with him. When you glared at him, he went red in the face. You understand why Ellie hates him. Apparently he called her and Dina dykes at the party and she and Joel almost strangled him. The canteen’s already filled with people, but the patrol group hasn’t returned. They usually make it back before sunset, but it’s dark now. Seth’s set on closing the kitchen down, but you decline everytime. They’re probably starving wherever they are. 

It’s not until an hour, then 2 passes when you wrap all 12 of their individual plates. 

You’re scared shitless, but it’s time for Dylan’s bedtime story. 

—

You always have to remind Dylan to keep his volume down during story time so he doesn’t wake the other kids. 

“Why would anyone give up anything magical for a cow? Okay, sure, you’re betting that they actually are magic, but why on Earth? I’d never give away my magic! Am I wrong, Ms. Dove?” 

You smile and deny. 

“SEE! Exactly! Anyway,” He refocuses on the page. “You numbskull! I can’t eat! You ruined my appetite!” 

Dylan’s a great reader, but he loses his place very often. You showed him the follow-your-finger trick and it’s helped, but the poor thing always has to comment on everything. At least he’s entertained. 

You don’t realize you dozed off on the floor until you’re frantically awoken by a teary-eyed Dylan. The big and small babies cry while they barricade the door with blankets and dressers. Your heart sinks. 

“Ms. Dove…” Dylan whispers. 

Screams echo from outside and the windows have orange hues. Something’s burning. 

“Someone bad is outside.” 

The patrol group is back. 

—

You don't meet Clickers often. 

They come and go and kill as they please and you don’t bother them, simply take your plans in the opposite direction as stealthy as possible. Even with your avoidance, they somehow always find their way back to you. Back to everyone. 

You hear everything from the daycare; hollering, gunshots, Clickers wailing, but you can’t fucking see. Protocol for a daycare lockdown is fairly simple: turn off the lights and take all the brats up to the nursery. It’s the most child-safe section of the building while simultaneously having a locked drawer filled with glocks. Great. 

Now you’re locked up with whimpering toddlers with a weapon you barely know how to use. If Joel hadn’t done that runthrough with you yesterday, you’d be fucked and so would the kids. You rock Dylan who sits on your lap while hushing the toddlers. You’re doing whatever you can to keep them quiet, but they’re babies who cry a lot. You hum to them, braid their hair, roll scratched-up dice but nothings fucking working. You never thought you’d regret staying in Jackson this early on. 

The younger ones start wailing when pounding on wood echoes from downstairs. Dylan holds you closer. 

Protocol is simple. 

Don’t open the door. Maria told you that. Keep it locked and don’t open it. 

The thuds get louder and so do the children and panic bombards you. It’s starting to feel too familiar. Those bangs are so fucking loud. Toddlers to 13 year olds are looking to you for guidance while you’re crumbling. How do you make them stop crying why won’t they stop fucking crying— 

Someone’s trying to beat the door down. Dylan’s practically choking you with his little arms as he sobs quietly into your neck. You don’t realize you’re crying until a small hand wipes your face and tiny bodies snuggle closer to you. 

Are you going to die surrounded by children all over again? One time wasn’t enough, God? The best moment of your life turns to the worst in a matter of seconds. You’ll have to run away like you did the first time. You should’ve never slid the note asking for more time with the kids under Maria’s door, fuck fuck fuck—

3 deafening pops bang from outside, and then there’s silence. It sounds like wood is breaking and there’s footsteps rushing upstairs and the babies are screaming so loud. When the nursery door lock gets shot off, Dylan screams right in your ear. 

“EVERYBODY OUT, LET’S GO!” 

“Mr. Tommy!” Relief washes over your kids before they start hustling. 

“OUT, OUT, LET’S GO!” 

All the kids scramble to grab their coats and socks and boots before rushing out of the nursery. Your hands won’t stop shaking. You barely get onto your feet before Tommy shoves you against the wall with fire for pupils. 

“You never fuckin’ wait to die when there’s kids around, you understand me!” 

You’re nodding but you can’t hear because you’re still sobbing. “Whatever bullshit you learned outside is over with now. It don’t matter what happens, always give them a chance to live even if it means you’re done!”

Tommy doesn’t waste another second on you. He leaves with a tense back and a rifle and you allow yourself to break. You heave and sob because that’s all you could do when you were a child and your brothers and sister were all killed in front of you. 

—

You vacate the daycare hours later. The doors need fixing. 

Your head and eyes hurt terribly but nothing compares to the emptiness in your chest. Maria told you that the kids would be separated into different houses until the daycare is safe for them again. Even she stares at you with disapproval despite her indifferent tone.

You feel like a ghost on the walk back home. Your hands are clenched in fists and your breathings slow. Why didn’t you stay downstairs and check the windows to make sure there were no intruders? Why weren’t you holding the gun in preparation for battle? Why’d you allow the kids to believe you couldn’t protect them? 

Because you couldn’t. In that moment, you were a child all over again, just as lost and confused and scared as they were. It was all too familiar. 

Jackson’s asleep, minus the painful groaning coming from behind Ellie’s home. 

You’re immediately in defense. So many patrol members had to go to the infirmary after their arrival. Maria never mentioned anything about Ellie. 

Your concern carries your feet until you round the corner, and her gun’s already drawn and pointed at you. That barely shakes you; it’s what surrounds her thats confusing.

She’s leant back against the foundation of her home surrounded by towels, a large bottle of clear liquid, and her profusely bleeding, non-tattooed arm that wraps around her stomach. 

When you take a cautious step toward her, her gun clicks. Her eyes are vicious and untrustworthy, and you know she’d kill you in a second. She watches every move you make down to the ragged rise and fall of your chest. You’re unsure how long you stand there before she winces in pain. It’s slight but you catch it. You slowly point to the open wound on her forearm. 

“What.” She rasps. You mime wrapping a bandage on yourself. Her snicker is pained. 

“Get the fuck outta here. You done enough for tonight.” 

You swallow thickly, unmoving. 

“Fuck off before I blow your brains out.” 

You take 2 more steps. 

“GET THE FU—“

When your knees hit the snow in front of her, she’s stunned silent. You’re already reaching for the bandage and bottle of disinfectant. You can’t see her injury that well, but she might need stitches if it’s still that bloody. When you reach for her injured arm, she pushes you into the snow. You groan in frustration before getting up and trying again. 

Ellie swallows a pained noise and maneuvers her injury away the closer you get. You’re trying to help her! Why’s she being so difficult! You crack open the disinfectant and your nose instantly burns. You gasp before moving the bottle away from your face. 

“Just go the fuck home, goddamnit—“

That’s not disinfectant. It’s acid. 

Ellie’s gun is still on you, but she’s not as steady. There’s a tremor in her weapon and her bottom lip is pinched between her teeth. Any movement she makes seems to hurt her. 

You move closer, and Ellie wheezes like an injured gazelle. It’s not until you see the small indentation when you realize her bleeding isn’t from a knife or a gun. 

Those are teeth marks. 

Ellie got bit. Your heart thrashes and your legs beg you to run. 

You know, and she knows you know. It’s a misunderstanding, it has to be. A human or a dog or a bear bit her, not a Clicker, not one of them. 

She smirks but it’s sinister. 

“If you tell anyone, I’ll tear out your windpipe and feed it to one of those fuckers.” Her head jerks towards the gate, and as if on command, the lot of them squeal into the night like hyenas. 

[improbable-outset]

📂 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭.𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞

I did try to add both genitals here… but I’m used to writing fem reader, so there’s heavy emphasis on AFAB. Barely proof-read…my eyes are sore

𝐔𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

📄 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Kenji’s gentle side shines through after your first time together. His usual confidence sheds away and is replaced by his anxiousness about whether he has met your expectations. He genuinely cares about you and wants to make sure you're comfortable, worried that he might’ve hurt you even if he was taking it slow with you

His inexperience makes him a little clueless about the nuance of aftercare, and you��ll find him overthinking what he’s supposed to do next. He fumbles a bit when he asks if you need water, a towel, or anything. He’s trying but he doesn’t know the proper steps

You find it endearing how attentive he is and gently reassure him, asking for some water. Immediately he’s on his feet and fetches you a bottle of water. He returns with a look of relief on his face as he hands it to you

The rest of the night, he stays close and is eager to attend to any of your needs, wanting everything to be perfect for you. Later on in the night, he’s a lot calmer and his racing thoughts subside. He might not have all the answers, but he’s willing to learn for you

📄 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭.𝐝𝐨𝐜

One of Kenji’s favourite body parts is his arms, given his athletic build. He loves how easily he can carry you and seeing your surprised reaction when he suddenly scoops you up out of nowhere, or when he carries you to bed

This might sound out of place here, but Kenji really likes his hands. Not only so he could hold your hand or body while being intimate, but he could use his slender fingers in your hole to reach your sweet spot. It’s an ego boost for him when he could drive you up the walls just by curling his long fingers, feeling your slick walls sucking him in

Kenji is particularly fond of your lips, especially if they have a slightly heart-shaped curve. However, he isn’t picky about their appearance— he just loves sucking on the lower lip as he reaches his peak and stuffing you with his load. He also really likes latching his own lips on yours to muffle your moans

📄 𝐂𝐮𝐦.𝐝𝐨𝐜

As much as he loves the feeling of releasing inside of you, he can’t get enough of watching himself spray over your chest or your back when he’s doing it from behind

He’s addicted to watching how far his cumshots could go, despite the mess he has to clean up afterwards. But that won’t stop him from pulling out last minute when he’s in the mood

Judging by his athletic lifestyle and diet, his cum is slightly thick in consistency with a white precipitate (#FEFEFE in colour if we’re gonna be specific) and sweet in taste (healthy).

📄 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

One time during the early stages of your relationship, Kenji would always give you lessons on how to bat the ball — he would always be handsy during these sessions since he was touch starved and he loved to feel your skin

Whenever he would show you how to swing the bat, he would stand behind with his hands over yours as he guides you. However, it quickly dawned on him how close your rear was pressed up against his groin.

Before he could anticipate it, he felt his erection growing under his shorts. Though he didn’t pull himself away, afraid that it’ll raise suspicion. Throughout the whole time, he was trying to conceal himself and keep his cool so he wouldn’t accidentally jab with his hard cock through his pants

After that event, he never spoke about it for a while until you started being more intimate regularly. Now he would shamelessly press his hard-on against you while you were batting the ball. He loves how you would freeze up when you realise what was happening and immediately lose your composure

📄 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

While living in America, Kenji never had any real relationship experiences that lasted long enough for him to actually sleep with his partner. Though he’s not clueless when it comes to the details, given how exposed he was with everything

Even as he rose to more popularity and stardom with his baseball career, and he had the opportunity to have flings with no strings attached, he still refused.

I mentioned before that he is demisexual, so he needs to build an emotional connection with his partner before he’ll take the step further. The emotional connection you share makes the physical intimacy more meaningful for him

First time you do it together will probably be back in the Ultrabase, where there’s more space and privacy for both of you

If it is your first time too, he’ll be the one in control and make sure your needs are met as well as his. He will frequently check in with you to ensure you’re completely comfortable and enjoying the experiences. He values respect and open communication on both ends

If you’ve got more experience, he’ll probably let you talk him through it. He finds it attractive hearing you tell him what to do to please you, and even better when you tell him to sit back and take the lead

📄 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Missionary: Kenji loves any position where he could see your face, but he likes the traditional stuff more so. This position is pretty simple but still versatile. He loves it when you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him closer while still remaining eye contact with you.

Spooning: He usually does this when he engages in a quickie with you. This gives a lot more skin-to-skin contact while still giving you a quick fuck from behind. He could place his hand on your waist to increase the intensity of his thrusts if he wanted

Seashell: Only if you’re flexible or comfortable enough to raise your legs all the way up until your ankles cross behind your head. If you have a pussy, this could give you more stimulation with his pelvic bone rubbing against your clit

Cowgirl: He always finds it hot when you’re riding him and controlling the pace. He can’t help but losing himself in the bliss you give him as you roll your hips against him

He’s always open to experimenting with different positions with you, so long as you don’t strain yourself

📄 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

While Ken does tease you the most in your relationship, your first time together left him feeling a little stiff and unsure of what to do. You lighten the mood with your sense of humour— throwing in one-liners and playful remarks, making the situation less awkward. Kenji was grateful for that

While it was your first too, you both had fun during foreplay, experimenting with different erogenous zones and laughing about whether you were even doing it right

But when it finally came to penetrative sex, he was locked in and hyper focusing on your micro-expressions to see if you were experiencing any discomfort, taking things slow with you

📄 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I’ve talked about how Kenji takes great pride in his appearance so his grooming routine is no exception. We know he keeps his hair styled so he has a collection of hair products to ensure his hair looks perfect

He puts the same energy when it comes to his body hair too, keeping things well-maintained. Yes, the carpet does match the drapes. He has a regular shaving routine and takes time to groom himself thoroughly.

📄 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

As mentioned earlier, Kenji is demisexual so sex will be emotionally charged and he’ll only reach that step when there is a special connection with you. So it comes to no surprise that he’ll be extra sweet while making love to you

He will maintain eye contact with you, watching your facial expressions as he gives you pleasure. And if you think that’s sweet, he’ll go even softer and hold your hand while he goes down on you— he wants to hold onto you whenever possible

He really wants to hear sweet words from you too, telling him how much you love him and how good he looks. He really feeds off your praises and it gets him going

📄 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐟𝐟.𝐝𝐨𝐜

If there’s one thing I can confidently say about Kenji, it's that he wouldn’t please himself like that outside of a relationship. Even while he’s single and doesn’t have a partner, he wouldn’t resort to that, especially while watching any explicit content while doing it. He feels like it’s disrespectful to his future partner

The only time he’ll ever do it is when he’s alone with you, giving you a show to tease you, or when he’s alone and is pleasing himself with you in his mind. Even then, he’ll still feel some guilt. He’d rather do it when you’re there to watch him (voyeurism?). You were always infatuated by him, and he’ll never get enough of your reaction

When he is alone, his thoughts will be filled with nothing but you. He recalls your touch, your voice and the way you look at him. He yearns for your presence the deeper these thoughts go

His self-restraint is a testimony of his character and how much he values the physical and intimate connection he shares with you. And it makes the moment even more special when he’s finally with you

📄 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Breeding kink: It wasn’t just Emi that influenced him, though it was a big factor. But seeing how natural you were with kids left his mind wondering, and he couldn’t stop thinking about breeding you. From that point on, he’ll get you knocked up, feverishly filling your womb with his seeds in hopes that you’ll get pregnant with his child.

Praise kink: This man is a sucker when it comes to your validation. And since you are his first, nothing will get him going more than hearing you praise him as he takes you. It gives him the satisfying feeling that he’s doing something right while giving you pleasure. He loves hearing your sweet voice tell him that he’s doing so well and how he’s good to you— he gets the fluttery feeling in his stomach that he quickly gets addicted to

Shibari (Japanese style bondage): He stumbled upon it somewhere and he couldn’t stop thinking about it whenever he was around you. This isn’t like western rope bondage where it entails a more functional role (retraining) but it’s more for aesthetics. He was really into it for the visuals and wanted to see you tied up in the most beautiful way. You did tease him about it when he brought it up but you still agreed, curious to see how it works. He made sure to buy the softest ropes purposely used for this type of stuff so you wouldn’t get friction burns

📄 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I’ve mentioned before that when it comes to his relationship, Kenji values his privacy— especially with his sex life. So he likes to keeps things sensible with the location

His go-to place is the Ultrabase, specifically his bedroom. It’s the safest place for him, given that he lives alone. Mina rarely hovers around his room so you’ll have the whole night to yourselves

He doesn’t mind doing it at your place, especially if you live alone. But if you do live with family or with a roommate, you’ll have to be extra quiet. He’s not against it but he'd prefer it if the property was empty with only the two of you. If you live alone, he would have more confidence in initiating something with you that’s not just in the bedroom— he wants to experience taking you on different surfaces in your house

📄 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Kenji is incredibly responsive to your gentle touches and caresses. He loves it when you run your fingers through your hair or lightly trace patterns over his back. But the more handsy you get with him, the more stimulated he gets.

He gets more hot and bothered when he feels your soft kisses over his skin, particularly his neck where he’s more sensitive. That is when he’ll let you take the lead

Kenji also gets aroused by sensory details too. The scent of your perfume when he leans closer, especially when it’s one of his favourite delicious scents, makes him unable to keep his hands off you.

He appreciates visual stimuli— seeing you in an outfit that accentuates your features that he loves is enough to make his heart (and dick) throb

📄 𝐍𝐨.𝐝𝐨𝐜

He isn’t a fan of Dom/Sub with his partner. He has seen a lot about it online but the whole power dynamic is a turn off for him. He prefers to be equal— definitely a switch. The only time he’ll have the upper hand is when he’s teasing you, but even then he’ll still keep it lighthearted

Speaking of Dom/Sub, he isn’t a fan of hardcore kinks and BDSM. The most he’ll go is light bondage. He doesn’t understand the whole concept of being in control or hurting his partner that way during an intimate moment

📄 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐥.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Kenji loves receiving blowjobs from you. Though, the first time you did it, he came almost immediately. It’s embarrassing how fast he reaches close to the edge just by feeling the warmth of your mouth on his throbbing cock

Even after you reassure him that he doesn’t have to worry about it, he still wants the experience to last as long as his body could drag it out. It doesn’t help when he could hear you moaning with his dick in your mouth and the way you look up at him. It took him a while for him to adjust and hold himself back

I wouldn’t call him a munch when it comes to giving heads to his partner, however. Since you are his first, he is hesitant with his approach and how to use his mouth on you (if you have a dick though, he’ll try and replicate what you do on him so he’ll give you the same amount of pleasure)

It took him a few rounds for him to get used to the taste of you and the feeling of you in his mouth. The first time he held your hand with his fingers interlocking with yours as he ate you out/sucked you off, while focusing on your reaction and the sounds you were making. He wanted to make sure you reached your peak just as fast as he did

📄 𝐏𝐚𝐜𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Slow and rough is usually Ken’s default. He wants to savour the moment, memorising every inch of your body and discovering new sweet spots. He likes to be a little rough with you so he could watch your body move in sync with his thrusts

If he’s a bit more riled up, he’ll be a little faster and harder with his pace. It’ll either be because he’s pend up or frustrated, but he will still be mindful of your comfort

📄 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

If he’s pent up and horny enough, he might engage in a quickie with you, especially if it’s in the mornings before he has to get ready for a game. Though he would prefer to have a long thorough session with you.

But if you rile him up enough, he’ll cave in before he blows his load inside you. Though, he’ll definitely get you back afterwards when he’s back home, keeping you up all night :))

📄 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐤.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Since this is all new to him and he’s still experiencing this first hand, he wouldn’t resort to anything risky until he’s properly getting in the swing of things

However one time, you somehow managed to sneak a quickie in the nosebleeds after the game, don’t ask how you managed to pull that off without anyone catching you. As much as Kenji not being a fan of PDA, he had to admit, the experience was exhilarating. But he would’ve never caved into the idea if he wasn’t confident enough or if he didn’t have better control of when he releases

All fun and games until he made a mess on your hands while you gave him a handjob. You had to quickly clean yourself up without leaving any trails of your activities behind. He still teases you about it from time to time, watching you get all flustered at the memory

📄 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Physically, he’s fit enough to go for 3-4 rounds if he wanted to. However, unless it’s a quickie session, he’ll probably only do 2 maybe squeeze a third round if you’re lucky.

He wants every round to be thorough, so they last a while— he takes his time with foreplay. Don’t worry if you ask nicely and he’s not tired, he might do another since he loves you so much ;)

📄 𝐓𝐨𝐲𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

He didn’t own any toys in the beginning but later on in your intimate relationship, he did get curious about it and it has crossed his mind a few times. He’s very intrigued with how your body reacted with a vibrator. Watching your body squirm from the vibration was a turn on

Since he is new to this, he’s still learning about these toys and how they work. He won't admit how much he loves the feel of the cock ring you use on him though

Even if he is open to using toys sometimes, he prefers the feel of your hands for the raw experience

📄 𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫.𝐝𝐨𝐜

He is the biggest tease— argue with the wall. Even before you did anything physical in the bedroom, he would always throw you off with his witty comments that would leave you speechless— it mostly stems from his cockiness. So sex with him is no exception when it comes to his teasing

He wouldn’t go as far as denying your orgasm, he’s not that cruel— haha. But he’ll verbally prod lightly, especially when you’re desperate for his touches watching how quickly you get turned on by the smallest of things

Not only is it an ego boost, but it makes him feel desired and there is no other feeling that will match it

📄 𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Initially, Kenji was embarrassed of being too loud, so he would clamp on his lower lip with his teeth to suppress himself. But after a few rounds together, he would run his mouth with his vocals.

He would constantly tell you how beautiful you look and how he can’t get enough of you, especially during foreplay. While he’s thrusting, he lets out breathy moans against your neck

When he is holding back his own release, he might whimper a little but he’ll cover it up with low grunts before he lets out a broken cry of your name

📄 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I’ve mentioned before that Kenji gets aroused when you wear your perfume around him and has a heightened sensitivity to your pheromones. But I think your natural scent drives him wild and it acts like a powerful aphrodisiac.

Whenever he comes home to you, the first thing he would do is bury his face into your neck and take in your scent. During intimate moments, the blend of your natural pheromone along with your scent amplifies his attraction to you, (I don’t know if this counts as olphactophilia) It reminds him of home and his fulfilling relationship with you

📄 𝐗-𝐑𝐚𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

He averaged around 6.5-7 inches with a 1.5 inch width. Not too much girth but still enough for you to wrap your hands around it

#BF8888 for the tip colour with visible veins

Even if you are his first, he can make you see stars after learning how to use his dick right

📄 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Because of his baseball career and his demands for press conferences along with his Ultraman duties, it’s only natural that he’ll have a high sex drive and longs for your touch

Albeit, he won’t initiate anything until you’ve done a few rounds together, mostly because he’s still getting used to the new dynamic and he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable

Eventually, his hands will be all over you, sneakily hiking up your shirt as he kisses you passionately

📄 𝐙𝐳𝐳.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Kenji will not fall asleep straight away after sex, especially if there is a mess on the sheets. He’ll strip the bed and change to some fresh sheets

He will take a shower and will probably encourage you to join. He doesn’t want to be away from you, even while cleaning— he might even clean you off as well

After all that, he’ll finally tuck into bed, inviting you over to sleep on his chest before wrapping his arms around you. You’ll usually fall asleep before he does

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @magnificentmuffinfluff @strawberryshortcake20 @chertilla-uwu @nicorobinmylifesaver @schmirov

@despacito-uwu16 @kilometersz @h3artb3atttt @luneariaa

[nadvs]

Hey girl! I’m obsessed with basketball!rafe, your write him so well! On the night of readers first visit in basketball!rafes condo, you said they slept together. Can we have a blurb on that? I NEED to know how that went

thank you so much!! omg yessss. they’ve been long distance and it’s been hard but they miss each other so much so when she finally visits, it’s intense 🤭

based on this fic, mentioned in this blurb! 18+!

» au masterlist

at this point, they’ve been together for almost seven months. and a month and a half of that has been at a distance.

since rafe moved away, it feels like all they do is argue. most of their calls have been tense. they’ve gone days giving each other silent treatment too many times to count.

so when she’s stepping out of the airport gate that late afternoon, she’s more nervous than she is excited for her three-day stay, and she hates that she feels like that.

she finds rafe standing by a pillar, wearing a baseball hat and sunglasses. he’s gotten even bigger, his muscles bulging under his sleeveless shirt. now that he’s signed with the nba, he’s at practice every morning, hitting the gym twice a day, preparing for the season two months away. always busy. often too busy for her.

he doesn’t wait for her to reach him. he helps close the distance, meeting her in an open pocket in the crowd and wrapping her in his arms. he’s holding her so tightly that she can feel his heartbeat on her chest.

she didn’t know what to expect when he saw her, considering how rocky things have been. but this feels like the best possible way he could greet her. he seems happy. the chasm between them is still there, but it’s closing.

rafe nuzzles into her neck, smelling the mix of shampoo and perfume that makes her her, and is so overwhelmed that his throat feels thicker and tears start to form in his eyes. thank fuck he’s wearing shades.

“hey, baby,” he says, muffled.

“hi,” she says softly. “how are you?”

it’s a loaded question. he’s lonely. he didn’t realize how lonely until he held her. he’s stressed. he’s out of his depth. but he settles for, “not bad. you?”

“better now,” she says.

she knows her boyfriend’s life has changed. but it’s not until they’re walking out of the building and he gets stopped by a middle-aged man asking for a photo with him that she realizes just how much things have shifted. the man’s wife shakes her head, saying don’t bother them, but the man says please, it’ll be quick.

rafe obliges, once again grateful he’s wearing shades so nobody sees his teary eyes.

“you’ll take us to the final, won’t you?” the man says, clearly starstruck.

“i’ll try,” he replies. it’s clear to her that rafe’s a little uneasy, which surprises her. she thought he and his ego would love the attention.

“you’re like famous famous,” she teases once they walk far enough away.

“that’s only like, the second time that happened,” he says, not matching her playfulness.

she can tell that he’s trying to downplay it. but the season hasn’t even started and he’s already being recognized. it’s a big deal.

“is that why you’re all disguised?” she realizes.

“yeah,” he admits, seemingly embarrassed. he really didn’t want anyone to recognize him today.

they reach his car in an underground parking garage and she settles in the passenger seat as puts her suitcase in his backseat. he sits and starts the car.

“what have you done with my boyfriend?” she asks, trying to lighten the mood. “how are you not bragging about what just happened?”

“i don’t know,” he says. “you’re here. that’s what i’m focused on. and who knows… i could be one of those guys who gets one contract and then burns out. better not to get used to all that.”

her eyebrows knit together. he’s being short with her. and he’s never spoken like this. she’s seen him unsure about himself only a few times before. he was painfully nervous on draft night. but he never mentioned anything about his career burning out. this isn’t the man she knows.

“you’re a great player,” she tells him. “you won’t burn out.”

he nods unconvincingly and shifts the car into reverse, trying to avoid this heavy of a conversation right away. she knows him well enough to know what he’s doing. she puts her hand on his.

“hey,” she says softly. “wait a second.”

he sighs, his throat thickening again. he puts the car in park and turns it off.

“you good?” she asks.

he pinches the bridge of his nose. she realizes that his hand is trembling. he finally takes his sunglasses off and rubs his eyes, wiping at them.

“i’m tired,” he admits.

she stares at him through worried eyes.

“i’m sorry. we’ll take it easy tonight,” she tells him. “we can just order food and watch tv and go to bed early. it’s going to be okay.”

he nods, licking his lips nervously.

“it makes sense if you’re overwhelmed. it’s a lot of pressure. your life is so different now,” she says. “and i know i was part of the old one, but i want to be part of this new one, too, okay? i’m here for you.”

she’s not saying it solely to reassure him. she realizes she’s hoping he’ll reassure her back. things are still off between them. she can feel it. maybe it’s because she’s slowly drifting into the past to him. maybe he won’t carry her into his new life.

rafe is speechless. his chest hurts. he hates that she would insinuate that he doesn’t have a place for her. that she has any doubts at all. he’s the one who called her after their last big argument, following days of not talking to each other. he’s still bitter about it. he keeps putting up a fight, yet it’s like she thinks she’s the only one trying.

“the only way to fail is to give up, right?” she says.

rafe snorts.

“where’d you read that?” he says mockingly. cutting.

he regrets it immediately. she sits straighter, creating distance between them.

“i’m sorry,” he says. “i’m just... i want you here. i do. i’m already thinking about how you’re going to leave and it sucks. i’m just so… on edge.”

“so, your way to handle it is by being mean to me like, a minute after i get here?” she asks. his knee-jerk reaction to stress has always been to be rude and combative. it’s her least favorite thing about him.

“my head’s not right. i’m sorry.”

even though she’s hurt and bitter, she pushes past it and nods.

“let’s start over,” she says. “i can tell you all about my flight. real exciting stuff.”

he finally cracks a genuine smile.

when they make it to rafe’s penthouse, she’s shocked. she saw the view of the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows over their facetime calls, but the real thing doesn’t compare. it’s unreal, the way the setting sun is glistening over the skyline.

it’s crazy. she’s stayed right where she’s been since she met him, on the same campus doing the same things, but now he’s here. the stinging anxiety hits her again that maybe he’ll leave her in the past.

“this is really nice,” she says.

rafe gazes at her as she looks out the window. he’s felt out of place since he got here. the dynamic with his new team is nothing like it was back in college. this condo feels more like a hotel instead of his home.

but with her here, the most important piece of all he knows, the place doesn’t feel cold anymore.

he looks out at the view. it is nice. but it’s been hard to appreciate it since there’s been a weight living over him, blurring things.

“you can continue the tour now,” she says.

he offers her his hand. she takes it. his palm is rough and calloused from all his training.

as she paces through the condo, everything about the place is stunning. bare, but stunning.

“i can help you decorate if you want,” she offers as they travel down the hallway. “wanna go shopping tomorrow?”

“yeah,” he agrees. something as mundane as shopping for decor excites him simply because it’ll be with her.

they reach his bedroom. the california king bed is centered against the back wall. the room offers another beautiful view with a balcony.

“you ever sit out there in the morning? watch the sunrise?” she asks, stepping towards the open balcony door. she can hear the dull roar of cars zooming through the massive freeway laid out far below.

“nah, i go straight to practice,” rafe says. “and on days off, i just sleep in.”

“right,” she recalls. he gets up almost every morning before the sun rises. his schedule has been brutal. she feels guilty for fighting with him about how hard it’s been to schedule calls with him. she pictured him living a glamorous life, forgetting all about her. but he just seems isolated. exhausted.

she turns to face him again, gazing around the characterless room.

“would you want pictures in here? maybe some art on the walls?” she asks.

“i thought decorating started tomorrow?” rafe teases. she loves that he’s seeming to ease up a bit.

“can never be too prepared.” he smirks, looking down at her with a tired, but relaxed expression.

“i haven’t had time to do anything with the place,” he says. “and i wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“all good,” she says. “you stick to basketball, i’ll stick to making this place look like someone actually lives in it.”

“deal,” he says with a soft laugh.

she smiles. her eyes drift down, noticing faint white lines on his shoulders under his sleeveless shirt. she traces her fingers over the new stretch marks.

“they’re not working you too hard, are they?” she asks.

her tender touch makes rafe’s body go hot. she feels it immediately, how the tension between them has shifted.

“no,” he mumbles. “the trainer said i actually need to slow down on the lifting. i can’t get too heavy. i won’t be able to run as fast.”

“so, what i’m hearing is you need a few rest days,” she says with a cute shrug. “you need to relax. it’s for the good of your game.”

he chuckles. within minutes of getting home, his girl makes everything better.

“thank you for coming,” he says sincerely, his hands finding her hips. her heart feels ten times lighter.

“for getting on a flight you booked? in first class? to live in your penthouse?” she says. “you’re welcome. big sacrifice.”

rafe smirks at her again, leaning closer. their lips press in a slow, sweet, long kiss. he pulls back once he feels her hand on his cheek.

“you stressed out, baby?” she whispers. his eyes are still closed an he only nods, grimacing. she strokes his cheek with her thumb.

“you want me to help you relax?” she says. he leans lower, his forehead on hers. his stomach is numb. his boxers suddenly feel too tight.

“yeah.” rafe’s tone is low. needy.

“lie down,” she tells him. “i’ll make you feel better.”

his entire body is buzzing. once he’s on his back in his bed, they’re slowly pulling off each other’s clothes.

she thought when they’d inevitably get into bed, it’d be impatient and rushed, but every movement is careful. they want to savor each other. it’s so much better this way.

she leads him to lie on his pillow when he’s left in his boxers and she’s in her panties. she pulls down his boxers, watching him spring out, the coil in her body already tightened to its limit. she missed him so badly.

she holds him at his base, meeting his eyes as she slowly takes the tip in her mouth. she watches his toned body curve as he bucks his hips with a groan.

“fuck,” he whispers. “wait, wait.”

he shifts to his side, turning his nightstand lamp on so that he can see her better, instead of doing this in the dim of the sunset.

he lies back down, placing eager fingers at her roots, desperately guiding her back to where she was.

their eyes lock as she lowers again, her tongue hot against him, slowly sinking until she has all of him in her mouth. she softly gags and pulls back, leaving his length wet with her spit.

“you’ve been working so hard, hmm?” she asks, looking at him as she palms him slowly, dragging her hand over his slick hardness.

“yeah,” he says, voice strained. “fuck, i missed you so much.”

she feels better hearing his words. all the tension between them has dissipated, at least for now.

“i missed you, too,” she whispers. she wraps her lips around him again, feeling him twitch against the inside of her cheek.

rafe can’t take his eyes off of her. she moves slowly, carefully, her tongue flicking around him, her wrist twisting and stroking. his grip is tight at the roots of her hair as she starts to move faster.

he can feel himself getting closer. he doesn’t want to finish like this.

“come here,” he murmurs, cradling her head, leading her closer.

she obeys, hovering over him on her knees. his hands drag over her ass, running over the lace of her panties, squeezing hard as she lowers to press her lips on his.

they kiss hard and slow, over and over until she can’t anymore, breathless and grinding on him. his thumbs loop under the band of her underwear, pushing the fabric down.

she wriggles out of the lace and he grasps her waist to turn her onto her back, kissing her again, finding her wrists and pinning them tightly against his bed.

“i don’t think i’ll last long,” he rasps against her mouth.

“that’s okay,” she says. “i just want you to feel good.”

he so badly wants to tell her he loves her. but they’ve never taken that step, and if he does take it and she doesn’t follow, he might not survive the fall.

instead, he moves to rest his hand between her legs, inhaling sharply once he feels how wet she is.

“fucking dripping for me,” he praises. she spreads her legs wider and he trails up to her clit, starting to trace circles.

she arches her back, pushing against his hand, already getting close. her body is just as desperate and impatient for it as his is.

“i’m close,” she whispers within seconds, her eyes shut. he stares at her in awe, so damn pleased that he can do this to her and get her there so quickly.

“yeah? you gonna come on my hand?”

“yes, yes,” she breathes, her lips parted. “don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

rafe wants to kiss her, but seeing her pretty face twisting in pleasure is too good to miss. one hand keeps her wrist pinned above her head while the other works with fast, firm movements, bringing her closer.

“i can’t wait to be inside you,” he groans. “you’re all i think about, you know that?”

she dips her head back, a soft moan spilling out of her mouth as she unravels, her body weakening with her orgasm. it hits her so hard that she trembles more than ever before.

she takes a moment to collect herself, then finds the strength to sit up just enough to grip him, guiding him to press against her. he groans as he starts to sink in her and she links her legs around him, pulling him in.

she presses her free hand against the head of his bedframe to steady herself so he can slam into her without any recoil, promising him the best sensation she can give him.

with one hand on her jaw and the other on her palm, interlacing his fingers with hers, he bottoms out, grunting against her ear.

“as hard as you want,” she whispers. “you know i can take it.”

her words make him dizzy. he doesn’t build up to the pace. suddenly, their slow, patient movements are gone, and he starts to thrust in and out of her fast and rough, to the hilt every time because of the way she’s keeping herself anchored against his headboard.

it’s like he’s drowning in her. he doesn’t want to come up for air. his breaths grow more shallow, his skin gets clammier, his pulse speeds up.

his bed is shaking with every slam, hitting deep inside her, wrapped in her heat and never wanting it to end. he squeezes her hand, wishing she knew just how grateful he is for her. not just for this. for everything.

“you’re mine,” he rasps. she tightens her legs around him, looking up at him as his handsome, sharp features crease in pleasure. “you belong to me.”

“yes,” she whispers. “i do. i do.”

rafe leans down to kiss her, his body going tight. she feels him grow harder, the pressure outright perfect, and he groans into her mouth as he comes, filling her with his heat.

he collapses on her, heavier than he was the last time they slept together. but she keeps her legs linked around him, withstanding the weight, running her hand down the curve of his spine while the other stays interlaced with his.

he’s panting hard. and he can’t control it when tears sting his eyes. she notices him shuddering, and she squeezes him tighter, kissing his cheek over and over again, her heart breaking for him.

“you okay, baby?” she whispers.

“yeah,” he says, and for once, he’s being honest about it.

all of this has been so hard and discombobulating, but with her here, life feels easy. and finally, he’s confident in something again. he knows they’ll make it. there’s no way they can’t.

“yeah,” he repeats. “hungry.”

she softly laughs, moving to wrap both arms around him. he’s so big and hard and heavy, but she tries her best to hold him, to comfort him.

“let’s get dinner,” she says. she knows his diet has been strict. “cheat day?”

rafe smirks against her neck. he didn’t know how badly he needed a vacation, and that he didn’t even have to leave his house to feel like he’s on one. he just needs her.

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Sylus SFW/NSFW Headcanons

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

A/n: I wanna emphasize further headcanons for Sylus cause he got me in a chokehold, NSFW isn’t a lot cause I couldn’t think of much. I hope you like this one! Also, when I was writing this, Rafayel was on my screen saying “Babe don’t move, I wanna see if I can see myself in the reflection of your eyes” I am so sorry baby boy.

Also, I apologize for the separated posts, I, once again, reached the Tumblr limit. <( •̀ᴖ•́)>

Pairing: Sylus x AFAB Reader Warning: Toxic! Relationship, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapping, Forced Drug Usage, Exhibitionism, BDSM, Sadistic! Sylus, Cussing, Blood, SYLUS! (He gets his own warning) If there are warnings that I didn’t notice, please let me know, thank you!

Masterlist Sylus SFW/NSFW Headcanons (Part One)

Sylus SFW Headcanons (Part Two) ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ NSFW:

✄ He’s into manhandling. No matter what your size is, tall, short, chubby, or not, he will make sure that you know that even if you loom over him, you’ll be the one kneeling.

✄ He’s such a pussy man, he loves how pretty that part of you is, and while he finds you gorgeous in every way, he does have a certain infatuation with his girl down there.

✄ He’s the type to mating press you, he loves the way you whine about how your legs can’t hold out much longer, how you’re already sore, you think he’d give a shit? Your pussy is fluttering around his girth, he’ll stop when he gets to fill you up.

✄ He’s not really into cumming all over your body, he likes spilling it inside, the way your pussy twitches and tightens around his cock, that drives him wild.

✄ Sylus has demonic stamina, especially with how pent up he is, merely stalking you, watching you kiss other men, you think he wouldn’t bruise you up and make your body have the most mind-blowing orgasm? Spoiler alert! He would.

✄ While he has great control over himself, if you try to grind on him, or press your chest on his body, you’ll be bent over whatever counter was nearby and he’s going to breed you there. It’ll be unfortunate if you’re not into exhibitionism because he is.

✄ He doesn’t masturbate, he doesn’t see a need to, but if you insist on sucking him off, who’s he to say no? he’d let you roam your hands on his body if you’d like even.

✄ THIS MAN, IS INTO OVERSTIMULATION, he already loves seeing you cry, what more if it was cause you can’t cum anymore? Whether it’s on his mouth or dick, he’ll keep telling you that you can still cum. Heck, he’ll taunt you for it.

“Don’t tell me that’s all you can do? That’s disappointing, and here I thought that a renowned Hunter could take more.”

✄ He’s into BDSM. He already found you chained up arousing what more if he could tie you up further? Have your tits squished, and your stomach pressed on by ropes that could leave marks on your body? He loves that you’re sobbing cause of how tight it is, watch him fuck pleasure into your pain.

✄ Since he’s into BDSM, his favorite would be sensory deprivation, he likes covering your eyes, gagging you up, and making you guess which toy he’ll be using on you, it could be those round clit vibrators or the phallic-shaped ones. Either way, he uses all kinds of sex toys on you, as long as it gets you to sob underneath that blindfold, he’s satisfied.

✄  Not into quickies, he likes to edge you till you squirt on him, and he doesn’t like making you orgasm too fast, however, if he’s been too busy to give you attention when he wants to, he’ll have your recent outfit ripped off since he got a 20-minute break, and he needs some pent up energy to take out.

“It’s much better if you don’t wear anything whenever I go home pretty, taking off your outfit is troublesome.”

[chelseeebe]

and they said, speak now

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of cheating. femreader!xeddie. no use of y/n!

a little second chance romance story wherein eddie is invited to your wedding, though he’s hopeful that it’ll never actually happen.

a/n: wanted to get this finished so i could start writing a follow up for too sweet (bc i love it and i love mean asshole eddie) so i hope it bridges some sort of gap while i write :p switches pov a lil bit but it’s all marked out 4 ya.

“-gettin’ married to who?” eddie spits, barreling into the living room with a mouthful of cereal.

steve looks up from the paper invite and shrugs, “mark?” mouthing a quiet i don’t know as robin looks between the two.

“and i’m invited?”

“i mean.. it says all of us so..” he looks up at eddie, “do you even want to go?” dubious at eddie’s overly keen questioning.

eddie’s bewildered that he’d even ask, “‘course we’re fucking going,” shaking his head, still gripping onto his bowl of cereal, “i didn’t even know she was datin’ anybody else.. what the fuck.”

robin shares a look with her best friend, thinking eddie hasn’t seen. he knows exactly what they’re not saying. it doesn’t exactly need to be spelled out for him.

perhaps eddie hadn’t ever really gotten over it. it being you leaving to new york for college, breaking up with him in the process.

maybe they were justified in their judgemental glances, it’d been years since you’d left. he should be over it by now. evidently, you’ve moved on. why hadn’t he?

but he wasn’t and now he’s not sure if he’ll ever be.

-

the five of them shovel into jonathan’s car, robin squished between eddie and steve in the back with their bags piled high in the trunk.

eddie stares out of the window, he had started to regret agreeing to go. his ex-girlfriend, whom he wasn’t exactly over, was getting married to some fuckhead he’d never met and now he had to go and wear a suit and pretend to be happy about it all.

“i still can’t believe she’s getting fucking married,” he grumbles into his fist.

robin grins, nudging her elbow into steve’s ribcage, “oh this going to be so much fun,” elated at his misery.

jonathan sighs quietly, throwing his head back against the seat and slyly turning the volume up so as to not hear any more of eddie’s whining.

there’d been months of it, so he’s not surprised.

-

eddie is fucking elated to reach the hotel, gawping at the grand exterior as they get out of the car, stretching their legs after the long trip.

“jeez,” robin utters, staring at the tall building with her mouth hung open, “at least she’s marrying rich, hey?” wiggling her brows at eddie’s less than excited face.

he doesn’t rise to it, ignoring her obvious attempts to get him riled up.

it’s even nicer inside, gold plated ornaments decorate the walls, outdated paintings of old people he didn’t care to know, joining them.

they’re in the process of checking in when a familiar voice comes from behind, a small, meek, “hey guys!”

it’s you.

they spin, sharing tired smiles as you stand looking horrifically awkward. like somehow you hadn’t shared years and years of history with every single person here.

everyone else gets a short, half hug, exchanging niceties while eddie waits patiently for his turn. he doesn’t think you’ll even acknowledge him.

but your eyes lock, that same sinking feeling that he felt all those years ago as he watched your car pull out of hawkins plagues his stomach.

“hey,” you nod, tense as you open your arms for a hug.

it’s more than he’d ever expected, now finding himself stuck, unable to embrace the situation. you’re exactly the same and yet he feels like he doesn’t recognise you. barely touched by the graces of age, still the same girl he was sure he still loved.

eventually he pulls himself together, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you in.

fuck.

you even smell the same. the heavy vanilla scent of your shampoo wafts through the air, transporting him back in time to nights shared in his cramped room, talking about the future together and how you couldn’t wait to get out of hawkins.

it’s utterly ironic, and not to mention heartbreaking, to think about now.

“hi,” eddie musters, sounding as pathetic as he felt.

the others watch on in anticipation, expecting a screaming match only to be met with whatever the fuck this was. dancing around each other like two complete strangers.

“how.. uh, how was the drive?” you ask, fiddling with your fingers, the way you used to when you were nervous.

“long,” he smiles meekly.

there’s too much he wants to say, desperately wanting to just shake you and ask what the hell you’re doing getting married to someone who’s not him.

besides, four sets of eyes watch both of you eagerly, hoping for an argument or maybe the exact opposite.

“there you are!” a gruff voice bellows, coming out of the mouth of the most insufferable looking man eddie’s ever seen.

he walks over with his shit-eating grin, taking you away from eddie’s grasp, leaving an aching in his fingertips.

your brows shoot upward, sighing softly, “everyone, this is mark.. mark, these are my..” your eyes dip, unable to meet eddie’s gaze, “friends.”

mark’s hand extends towards eddie, grinning like a complete fool as he shakes it. “nice to meet you man! heard so much about you,” his grip tight, squeezing the tired bones in his hand.

eddie wonders if he’s asserting his dominance, if you’d told him who exactly he was. about all those years you spent as his girlfriend. about how he used to make you cum in two minutes. or perhaps all the times you swore that if you had to get married, it’d be to him.

eddie doesn’t count on it.

-

eddie waits. and he waits. and he waits.

pacing the floor of his room, contemplating if he truly had the nerve to stalk the halls to your room or if he’d have to sit here and regret it forever.

fuck it, he thinks. there’s no guarantee he’ll even knock on the door, he just needs to get out of here and at least try to.

eddie’s acutely aware that nothing he says to you will change your mind in fact, he thinks you’ll more than likely slam the door in his face.

but he’s gotta try.

- reader’s pov -

it’s a quiet knock, barely audible as you toss and turn.

you debate even answering, too caught up in your nerves to care about some bridesmaid complaining about her dress or your mother prattling on about the floral arrangements again.

but then they knock again, louder this time though it sounds more unsure, a hesitant wrap of the knuckles, pulling yourself from the comfort of your blanket to see what they wanted.

you hardly register who the person is before immediately wanting to slam the door in his face.

“what are you doing?” you hiss through the small gap in the door, noting that it was somewhere between 11 and midnight.

“i wanna talk,” eddie frowns, carefully wedging his foot between the door, as if you wouldn’t immediately notice.

“we don’t need to talk,” you refute, scowling at your batshit crazy ex.

he sighs, looking around the empty corridor, knowing he shouldn’t be here right now. “can we.. i just wanna talk.. that’s it,” his eyes wide and begging.

you take pity on him, you always did when he had that pathetic frown on his face. like a dejected puppy that needed you to cradle him.

something in your head screams out to just close the door, it’s a terrible idea and you know it.

alas, you pull it open a few more inches, giving him the chance to slide inside before it’s shut again, turning the lock immediately.

if anyone were to walk in, your relationship would be ruined, tomorrow would just be a waste of money and you’d be a social pariah in your circles.

“why didn’t you tell me that you were getting married?”

the nerve to ask that question like he deserved an explanation. you haven’t even seen the man in years and yet, he feels as if he’s owed something from you.

“i didn’t know i had to,” you shrug, standing a few feet away from him, hoping to keep the distance.

eddie scowls, brows knitted into a line across his forehead, “you don’t- i thought we were friends.. friends tell each other those things.”

“you haven’t seen me in years eddie!” raising your voice despite being surrounded by your friends and family. “what gives you the right to march in here and ask me that?” stepping closer with every word, taken aback by his sheer nerve.

his eyes harden, jaw tense, “you left me- you did that and then the next time i hear from you, it’s because you’re getting married? s’that not completely fucked up to you too?”

“i didn’t leave you! i went to college, like people our age are supposed to! it’s not my fault that you’d rather sit in jeff’s basement pretending to be a rockstar,” snarling your upper lip, hoping you’ll hit him right where it hurts.

if nothing else, it’s frustrating. eddie was always talking about his big dreams and how he was going to get out of hawkins once and for all, make something of himself and never look back.

but you got tired of waiting for that to happen. years and years of soon and i’m not ready’s had left you pretty hopeless for any kind of future with him.

he shakes his head, scoffing, “oh? so should i have followed you to new york? watched you change everything about yourself for some asshole?”

there’s a lump in your throat now and weirdly, not a speck of anger. at least not about his words for your fiancé. more so about his complete disregard of your feelings, the dreams you put on hold for him.

“i didn’t.. i didn’t change,” bottom lip trembling, “this is me eddie,” nostrils flaring as you skulk closer, “you just don’t know me anymore.”

“i know you better than he does,” he fires back, adams apple bobbing in his throat. a sincere, honest tone.

it only makes you more frustrated, the audacity to come here and act like this, the day before your wedding.

you laugh in his face, a maniacal cackle, “you’re deluded,” gathering all of your strength not to punch him in the face, “you should leave, before you embarrass yourself any more.”

he’s almost frantic now, grasping the air, “i’m not the one embarrassing myself here. the you i know would never want this.. what happened to that girl who promised to marry me? where’s she?”

“people change eddie! you clearly haven’t!” you hiss, prodding your finger into his chest, hoping you’ll somehow set him alight with your fingertip.

he grabs your hand, keeping it close to his heart as his frown sets in. “tell me- tell me that this is what you want, the big wedding and fucking mark and a coupl’a kids, tell me and i’ll leave,” downturned eyes, begging himself not to cry.

you want to scream, ferociously snatching your hand away from him before you turn away. sick to death of looking into his glossy chestnut eyes. loathing the feeling of your past flooding back into your brain.

a few years ago, you would’ve been certain that eddie was the one you were going to marry. marriage wasn’t something you were ever particularly interested in, your parents hadn’t been the best example. but if it had happened, it would’ve been nothing like this, maybe in the tiny chapel in hawkins, a couple years from now, a small, private ceremony with your friends and family. you’d be lying if you said you had never thought about it.

about what could’ve been.

somewhere, buried deep inside, you longed for it.

eddie doesn’t budge, hearing the sounds of his heavy breathing from behind. you can picture that stupid look on his face, pathetic and sullen as he waits for a fleck of hope.

you turn back, praying that you’ll have somehow found the strength to tell him to leave in the two seconds it takes to face him.

it doesn’t come, the lump in your throat dissipating only to be replaced with a fiery pit in your stomach.

and then a moment, where neither of you have the guts to speak any longer, in what feels like the most intense battle of eye contact you’d ever been a part of.

but it’s over as quickly as it started, both of you lurching forward at the same time, lips crashing together in a hungry kiss, finding the side of his head for leverage as his antsy hands grip your waist.

the rest is just a silent routine, one you two have been through a hundred times before.

your back crashes into the desk, pressed into the wood by his torso. a hand squeezing your thigh as you’re helped onto the surface.

the metal on your fourth finger aches, as if some higher power is attempting to intervene, to stop this mistake before it goes too far.

it’s dutifully ignored, spreading your legs to allow him between your soft thighs. the thin material of your shorts meant that you could feel everything. his cock jumping as it brushes against your heat, low grumbling into your mouth at the action.

his jacket slips from his shoulders and onto the floor, your soft hands running down the length of his arms, brushing against the tattoos you used to spend hours tracing.

eddie’s hands roam your body, between your thighs, tucking underneath the elastic of the shorts as your hips lift in unison, allowing him to pull them down.

his throat rumbles at your lack of underwear, rough denim pressed against your cunt, his erection demanding out of his jeans.

your fingers fumble with his jeans, hearing the low clink of his belt somewhere muddled between his grunting and your melodic pants.

the throbbing between your thighs becomes almost insatiable, finding your own release on the rough fabric of his jeans, sighing into his mouth, allowing his tongue to slip into yours instead.

cold fingers grip your thighs, lifting your legs so that they rest around his waist, clothed cock nudging against your heat, growling into your mouth.

your head jerks back, “my mom.. my mom’s next door..” you pant, fingers trailing over his lips, doing nothing to muffle his raspy groans.

“good,” eddie smirks, hurriedly tugging his boxers down beneath his balls, burying himself inside of your soaked cunt, “i never liked her.”

a strangled moan is all you manage in response, grabbing at the desk for a little leverage as his hips meet the back of your thighs. any anger you felt towards his insults towards your mother quickly float away, turning into static as he slides slowly in and out.

marvelling at the sight of your cunt once again envelopes around him. you’d missed that, his damn near infatuation with your pussy.

the wooden frame knocks against the wall, whatever shit you had compiled for the morning all comes tumbling down, clattering to the floor alongside your long mewls.

eddie near enough melts, fingers melding into one with your skin, filling your cunt to the hilt. a certain feeling that had never been replaced, only achieved by him and his undeniable love for your pussy.

your lips catch onto his, attempting to muffle his hoarse groans, hoping to to god that the walls were thick enough.

“missed you,” he murmurs, half into your mouth, the other vibrating against your chin as your lips connect in the most careless manner.

your eyes flutter shut, chest heaving, pressed to his as your fingers begin to loosen their grip on the desk. his pace unfaltering with utter desperation, an exhilaration he had chased for years, to no avail.

“fuck,” you whine, regretting the shaky word the second it slips out. one arm hooks around his neck, forehead resting against his as his hair begins to stick.

it’s so disgusting, so wracked with desire that you’re sure you’ll be thinking- feeling it for months.

eddie’s cock nudges against against the spot only he could ever find, his pubic bone catching against your clit. fuelling the inextinguishable fire in your stomach, only making it rise into your throat.

with every fervent thrust he’s grumbling something;

fuck, shit, love you, love you.

your legs tremble, exhausted as they sit around his zealous hips. naturally, they tighten, drawing him in closer, an incessant need to feel all of him all at once.

“you can’t.. not inside,” you pant, opening his eyes to meet his though they’re not on yours. staring starry eyed at the space between your bodies, watching as they collide in ways your heart had longed for.

he’s close, you can tell. choking on his breaths when you squeeze around him, signalling your own orgasm.

“fuck, i can’t-,” eddie howls, desperately pounding his cock into your quivering cunt, giving everything away for the last thirty seconds.

you cry out, toppling over the edge as your stomach all but bursts, the pleasure reaching every last nerve in your body. clinging to his neck with a white knuckle grip, clutching his clammy skin as your body turns to mush before him.

eddie just about manages to pull out, sliding between your slick folds before his stomach lurches, shooting thick ropes of cum onto your stomach, thighs and the desk.

your foreheads remain as one, gasping into the hot air that surrounds you.

finally, his eyes trail up toward yours, meeting with the most sorrowful look that a man who has just cum, could hold.

it’s as if reality sets in, untangling your legs to shove him away. harsh and untoward as he stumbles back, still reeling from his own orgasm.

“oh my god,” you mumble incoherently, “oh my god, i’m getting married tomorrow,” clenching your fist, shouting as if he were somehow unaware.

his silence is deafening, his release still clinging to your body as you jump from the wooden table, marching into the bathroom, swallowing the urge to cry.

eddie stands with his head hung low, belt still undone as you sanctimoniously barging back past him to redress yourself, muttering ferocious whispers to yourself.

“i’m getting married tomorrow,” you repeat, unwavering anger in your voice. undecided on whether you were telling him or yourself that fact.

“so you’re still gonna marry him?” eddie asks, a slight hint of optimism in his tone. he had reason to be, you suppose. anyone else would assume the same.

you swallow, “what else is there for me?”

getting married had been the next logical step. you had the job, the house, the sweet, timid guy that wouldn’t hurt a fly. why wouldn’t you marry him?

his face crumples, brows stitched together in confusion, “me?”

almost on instinct, your head shakes, smacking your palm into his shoulder, “no. not you. it’s not supposed to be you,” a certain sadness plaguing your tone, “it was never supposed to be you,” palm slapping into his chest.

eddie’s face falls, holding his jacket in his hands wishing you’d take it back, tell him you were lying and that you really did still love him.

buried somewhere under years of regret, you probably still did.

tears weep out of the corner of your eye, quickly wiped away with your trembling finger. “you need to leave,” eyes pointed to the floor, refusing to look at him any longer.

he sighs, hesitantly stepping around the mess you both had made and out of your peripheral view. slow steps, willing for your mouth to open and those three words to dance out of it.

the door clicks shut and you’re alone again. nauseous and wishing you had just let him stay, wanting nothing more than to be held in your insurmountable feelings of remorse.

-

you’ve barely slept, overwhelmed with a sense of guilt and indecision.

six years of work and making something of yourself had come horrifically crashing down in one night, one stupid, moronic mistake.

but was it really a mistake when your heart still aches and your lips still feel the traces of his.

a short knock breaks you from your trance, the noise you’d been dreading all night.

sarah. bright-eyed and stupidly excitable nature, ready for your wedding day.

“woah,” she remarks, eyes darting around the room you’re just now realising you forgot to clean, “crazy night?” she smirks, eyeing the bottles and pens that had fallen from the desk to the floor.

“oh,” you smile, bile rising in your throat, “i’m just..” clambering for an excuse, “clumsy.”

she scoffs, dumping her bag on the unmade bed, “you don’t have to lie to me,” smile growing, “if you and mark wanna.. break traditions then i’m all for it.”

her wilful innocence makes you feel all the more worse. you’re supposed best friend was none the wiser, bouncing around with a proud smile, ready for your wedding day.

- eddie’s pov -

steve notices something’s up immediately.

dark rings accompanying eddie’s eyes after he had gone missing for hours last night.

“you good?” steve’s hand thwacks against his back, assuming eddie’s manner was all to do with the fact that you were getting married and not that only a few hours ago, he was telling you that he still loved you while you were having sex.

the ride to the venue is quiet, which everyone appreciates, having prepared for a litany of complaints and whining.

the church is even more extravagant than the hotel, resembling one of those castles he’d seen in a fairytale book.

he wants that to make him feel better, that at least he wasn’t the one wasting all of this money on a stupid wedding, but it doesn’t.

because irregardless of how much money you were spending, you were still marrying someone else.

sure, it wouldn’t be a particularly honest nor holy marriage but it’d be a marriage nonetheless. something he would never have with you. no matter how hard he tried.

they file into the pew, sitting slumped against the varnished wood as everyone chatters around him.

concerned heads fly around, the groomsmen rushing up the aisle as they’re beckoned by your bridesmaids.

eddie sits up, looking around at the frantic bridesmaids who were desperately trying to get the pastor’s attention. something’s wrong. he can feel it in his bones.

he throws up a quick two with his fingers to steve before sliding out of the pew, ducking his head down the aisle as he searches for you.

slipping past the worried wedding party, opening a multitude of doors in search of you. hoping that you’d at least made it to the church, that you were okay.

he doesn’t expect to find you in here, holding onto your mouth, mascara stains dripping down your cheeks, curled into the corner with your shoulders shaking. eddie slips in, shoving the broom in between the door handle, ensuring that no one else could find the pair of you.

you spend a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes until you squeak, “what’re you doing?” the most soul crushing tone that makes his heart ache.

“i came to find you,” he says, simply.

because he would, he’d do it in every life.

your palm smears the black stains around your cheek, scoffing at his words. “you shouldn’t have.. i’m fine,” trying to convince yourself more than you were him.

“you don’t look fine.”

your bottom lip trembles, threatening to spill over again. evoking a harsh stab of guilt through his chest. eddie surges toward you, placing his palms over yours, “you don’t have to do this.. we can leave right now,” he assures, searching your eyes. he’d whisk you away in a heartbeat, you didn’t even have to ask. just give him that look.

your nostrils flare, a wail constricted to the back of your throat, trying hard not to alert the hundreds of wedding guests sat just a couple hundred meters away. the dark light of the closet does well to accentuate your tearful eyes, his heart aching with every sniffle, every quietened sob that falls from your lips.

then, you growl, rather forcefully slapping his chest, “this is your fault,” fingers grabbing onto his suit jacket, “why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” frustration seeping out of your words.

eddie doesn’t have an answer, at least not one that would make you feel better.

so he stands in silence, letting you treat him like your verbal punching bag.

“i can’t do it,” you cry, burying your face into his neck, “i can’t.. marry him.”

he nods, stood just before you in this cramped closet, “you don’t have to,” assuredly grabbing your sodden cheeks, streaks of black stain his palms, “we can go.. anywhere you want, right now.”

promising the world because really, it was all he had to offer.

he wasn’t rich, hadn’t figured out how to get the fuck out of hawkins yet but he did know that he loves you and he’d do anything to prove that.

you swallow, averting your eyes to the sparkling ring on your hand, curled into the fabric of his jacket. “okay,” flicking back to his eyes, it’s so simple and yet it knocks the breath from his lungs.

nothing really registers, eddie had planned for more bargaining, certain that regardless of his pleas, you’d still end up walking down that aisle, promising yourself to another man.

“really?” he asks, clarifying for both himself and for you. there was still time for you to pull yourself together and go get married, he wasn’t going to deny you that.

“really,” you nod frantically, “i’ll go anywhere,” tugging at the collar of his shirt, “anywhere with you.”

[bloodlineslut]

Conjugal Visit | Roman Reigns

Images/GIFs aren’t mine, credits to rightful owners.

Pairings: Roman Reigns x black! oc

Warnings: flashback of threatening assault, smut, oral (female receiving), slight (a little more than slight) daddy kink, fluff

Summary: Jada thinks she’s just going to visit her man while he’s doing his time in jail for assaulting this man who wouldn't leave her alone. Little does she know, he has a surprise when she gets there…

Word Count: 1.9k words

A/N: Hey my baes! This is my first story/one shot so please take it easy on me lmao. I’m sure as I keep writing, it’ll get better. I am so open to constructive criticism though. Yall PLEASE go easy on me abeg. okay enjoy!! please comment if you like it :))

As Jada drove down the road that seemed to never end, she could hardly contain the nerves and butterflies that were erupting in her stomach. Before leaving her apartment, she decided to put on her pink Skims Long Slip Dress, paired with a baby pink bolero, and a pair of platform UGGs.

Every day Jada wishes that it was the day Roman was coming home. She would always tell him that he needed to go to anger management counseling or something, but he constantly shrugged her off. Then one day at the grocery store, this creepy older white man kept hitting on Jada, so Roman stepped in.

“Aye man. Who are you?” Roman firmly asked the older man, and looking down at him as he was much shorter.

The man confidently looked up at Roman and even puffed his chest out a bit. Before he could even get a word out, Roman grabbed him by his shirt collar with both hands and roughed him up a little.

The older man’s eyes widened, now in fear of this huge Samoan man.

“She’s my woman. Now, I heard her tell you ‘bout three times that she wasn’t interested. Are you hard of hearing?” Roman was getting more irritated by the second, as Jada could tell by him scrunching his face.

“Sir, I- I didn’t know.” The man pleaded to Roman.

Roman pulled the man closer to his face and tightened his grip on his shirt. “Oh you didn’t know? You really wanna get yo’ ass beat huh?”

As Jada looked away, a bit embarrassed, she saw two police officers looking at them. This included Roman clearly threatening this old man. “Umm, Roman?” She gently tapped his shoulder.

“What baby?” He asked, still staring daggers into his victim.

Jada just pointed at the officers and her silence prompted Roman to follow her line of vision. A sudden realization hits Roman and he smacks his teeth and drops the creepy pervert.

Long story short, the man pressed charges and Roman was sentenced to 90 days in jail.

Thinking about the whole process that happened, Jada zoned out and arrived at the jail quicker than she realized. She quickly found a parking spot in the visitors lot and made sure to only grab her keychain that held her car/house keys and a little card holder, leaving her purse and phone under the passenger seat.

She stepped out of her car and made her way to the building to get searched and to check in for the visit.

Jada was actually nervous to see Roman. They usually talk on the phone more than physically seeing each other in person. In a lot of ways, hearing his voice made her miss him even more.

“Ms. Williams, you’re up next to visit inmate Reigns. Follow me.” A guard’s voice rang throughout the waiting room. Jada quickly got up and walked up to him, expecting to go the same route as usual.

The guard seemed to be going a different way than usual. She didn’t want to be rude, so she politely asked him if they were going the right way. It felt shady.

“Um, officer? Is this the way to visitation?” She asked from behind his moving figure. The officer led them to a part of the jail that seemed deserted.

“Oh yeah.” He said matter-of-factly. They finally came upon a silver steel door with no window and the officer knocked three times before opening the door for Jada. She was so confused that she didn’t even recognize the 6’3” man with tribal tattoos in a khaki uniform sitting with his back to her.

“Roman?” She softly said. The sound of her voice made him perk up and he stood up to physically take her in.

“Jada…” He breathed out her name in awe, walking up to her. He quickly dapped up the guard who helped him get the private, “conjugal” visit. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. You only got 1 hour though.” The guard said, then left and closed the door before locking it.

Roman focused his attention back on the beauty in front of him. He picked her up in a hug and spun her around before giving her a deep and slow kiss.

Roman slipped his tongue into Jada’s vulnerable mouth and walked them both over to the bunk bed in the corner of the room, laying her down on it.

When he pulled away from her soft lips, Jada slapped his arm. “Roman, how in the world did you set this up? Can’t you get in troub-”

“Shhh. Don’t worry about that, baby. I’m good with that officer.” He tucked some of her curly hair behind her ear. The gesture made her smile. She missed his touch so much.

Jada’s hand went to Roman’s face, caressing it, and he smiled, showing his dimples and beautiful smile. “Roman, I miss you so much.” He grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth and laid a kiss there.

“I miss you too princess. I think about you every day. Listen…when I get out of here, I’mma go to that anger management class. And I want you to be there with me.” He gently says to her.

Hearing Roman finally say that he would try to get help made Jada’s heart swell. Even though he was never violent towards her, she wanted to help him with controlling his anger towards other things and people.

“Babe…of course I’ll be there with you…” Jada says lovingly. Roman leans in for another kiss, their lips moving in sync. The kiss soon turned heated and sloppy. Roman’s lips left Jada’s and trailed to her jaw, then to her neck.

As Roman kissed her neck, his large hand went to her waist, feeling the curves he missed so much. He sucked on her neck, knowing there would be hickeys later.

Jada’s hands came to rest on his shoulder blades and tugged on his khaki shirt. He took this silent signal to take it off, leaving his white wife beater on, which seemed to amplify his tribal tattoo that ran up his arm and covered half of his chest.

She noticed that he seemed…bigger. She squeezed his arms, even more turned on and bit her lip. “Babe. Oh my-you’re so sexy.”

This made Roman chuckle. “Yeah? You want more?” His deep voice dropped an octave as he took off his wife beater, now completely bare up top. Jada ran her fingers over his well-defined abs that seemed to glisten even under the fluorescent lights.

His hands went to her feet and slid off her UGGs, placing them on the floor. Then he pressed kisses on her feet and saw that she had perfectly manicured white toenails. His hands went under her dress, sliding against her thighs, and scrunched her dress up to rest on her waist.

Jada spread her legs for him, feeling herself get more wet. Roman kissed up her thighs after placing each one to rest over his broad shoulders. He didn’t even take her panties off, just moved them to the side before licking a slow stripe up her wet pussy.

He sloppily made out with her pussy, mixing his spit with her juices. Jada was moaning, but Roman could tell she was holding back. He moved his mouth away from her core. “No, baby let it out. Lemme hear how good it feels.”

He placed his tongue back directly on her clit, flicking it tender and slow, then in long circles.

“Mmm…fuck Ro,” Jada moans out, louder this time as usual. Hearing her moans made his dick harder than steel. As he kept eating her out, he tugged the neckline of her dress down to expose her tits and kneaded them in his hands, rolling her hard nipples between his fingers.

She was so wet, it was seeping down her crack and onto the bed. Roman felt her legs start shaking a little. “Fuck, baby. Nut on my tongue, come on.” He told her then went right back to stimulating her clit, faster this time.

Jada chased her orgasm, feeling that knot about to burst in her lower abdomen. Her back arched and she sucked on her own fingers as she came undone on Roman’s tongue. He let her come down from her high, her juices all in his thick beard.

He kissed her, letting her taste herself from his mouth. Roman pulled his pants down just enough to free his throbbing, thick cock. One of his large hands went to it, slowly stroking himself as he looked at the love of his life.

“You gonna cum like that again on this dick?” His husky voice asked her. She wanted it so bad that it hurt.

“Yes Daddy..” She slyly said then giggled. Roman laughed and then rubbed the head of his dick up and down her pussy, and then forced out a long trail of spit that landed just in the right spot.

He slowly pushed into her tight, wet pussy, feeling her walls squeeze the life out of him damn near.

After Jada adjusted to his size again, there was no stopping them now.

She was now on all fours, back arched and her ass in the air. “Ooh Daddy, you fuck me so good!” She said in between moans.

Roman’s grunts didn’t go unnoticed. “Yeah? Tell me how good that dick feels in you baby.” He said and slapped her ass.

“Yesss! Fuck, it feels so good. It’s in my stomach,” Jada tells him, not ever wanting it to end. He changed the angle he was hitting it and found her G spot, stroking against it over and over with powerful thrusts.

Roman looked down at her ass that moved with each of his thrusts and saw her creaming on his girthy dick, and dripping down her thighs. “Damn. Yeah, cream on me just like that.” He threw his head back in never ending pleasure, trying not to bust too quick.

Jada started fucking him back, meeting his hips with her own, making her ass clap and the sound resonate through the empty room. There was an even bigger knot forming in her abdomen and she chased it again.

“Cum on Daddy’s dick, princess. Show me you want that nut.” Roman coaxed her and not even 2 seconds later, Jada’s legs were shaking, and she pressed her face into the bed.

That’s what Roman loved about Jada coming on his dick. She didn’t need a break. After her orgasm she was right back to taking his slow, meaningful thrusts.

“Mmm, Daddy please cum in me.” She looked at Roman over her shoulder. She silently applauded herself for taking her birth control before she drove here.

His hands tightened on her waist and ass while he focused on his pleasure. “That pussy gripping me so tight baby...” His moans got louder, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Oh fuck, I’m ‘bout to cum,” Jada feels his hot load inside of her and he moans in her ear. When he comes down, he slowly pulls out of her and flips Jada on her back. They were both glistening because of sweat. He gives her a tender kiss.

“I love you with all my heart, Jada.” He says, still trying to catch his breath.

“I love you, Roman.” She tells him and they cuddle, trying to enjoy what little time they have left before the guard comes knocking on the door to get them.