#like. read the fucking room would you. those are my pronouns too.

[fridayyy-13th]

still thinking about how my ex-best friend went on an entire conversation tangent about how they Just Couldn't Understand Why People Use Neopronouns, They Just Don't Make Sense literally right after i'd mentioned i use any and all pronouns, including neos. it wasn't sparked by my comment, but like, dude. what the hell.

[killerkillerkillher]

Bound to Fall in Love

Angel/Demon! 141 x reader

Tags: kidnapping, sacrifices, religious references, reader is too angry to die, reader commits murder lol, canon typical violence??, reader gets a kissy on the forehead, a tad crack-ish

Inclusivity tags: reader is referred to w he/him and they/them pronouns, no bodily description, no y/n

A/n: call my brain an apple w all the worms it's got. This was just a blurb at first, but I made room in there for me to potentially make it into... something I guess.

minors dni!

"Cole, I can't fucking focus while they're just... staring at us like that."

"Ignore it, Bess. We have to finish these candles."

You wish a bolt of lightening would come down and strike all three of you at once. Or maybe the building spontaneously combusting would be better. Anything, anything, would be better at this moment than watching your boyfriend and best friend work together to light a summoning circle after having tied you up in your sleep.

For a fraction of a second, you wonder if any gods are watching, if any of them would be willing to give you a boon and allow you one last chance to punch both of these betrayers in the face.

"Okay, okay, the book," Bess mutters, going to the pick up her ritual book from the coffee table you bought. Honestly, if they were going to try to sacrifice you somewhere, your living room is one of the most disrespectful places. Probably right under your bed room.

"I'm sorry," Cole has the gaul to look down at you with a face stricken with grief. Like you're dead already. "We didn't know what else to do. We're both in bad places and you've always been so good to us, so we figured-"

"You better hope this fucking kills me." You grunt. Cole's face melts into a glare. "Because if I'm still breathing, it's going to take more than Satan's intervention to save you from me. I swear on my mother." You jerk forward, making him jump back a step.

"Cole...?" Bess looks at you, then up at Cole with unease. Cole doesn't say anything for a second, sorting his feelings out with a leer before turning to her.

"Read the book."

He drags you into the middle of their pentagram while she sings Latin words off the old book pages. The candles flicker and waver before their flames grow twice as tall. Cole rolls you onto your back and pulls a knife from his back pocket.

"I meant it when I said I'm sorry," Cole mutters. You snarl, but don't jump at him like you want to.

"Yeah? Yeah, you're sorry? Kiss my ass!" You shout over Bess's reading. "If I'm still alive after this, I'm killing you and burying you in the fucking septic tank!" You crane your head up so you can see Bess as well. "Time to get some stuff off my chest, yeah? Bess, I fucked your older brother on the day we graduated."

Her eyes go wide, and she almost stops talking, but Cole shoots her a look that forces her to continue.

"And his friend Carl, the one you had a crush on. And Cole? I never. Fucking. Finished. Ever! You are the only person I've dated who couldn't get me off." Cole's hand's twitch around the blade.

"Are you serious?"

"Does now look like a time to- ack!" You don't get to finish because Bess finished the spell and it was time for your blood to fuel it. The blade buries in your gut, turning this way and that way at measured increments. You just lay there and twitch, breathy gasps falling from your gaping mouth, the pain only throwing fuel to the fires of your rage.

"Please, we call you here! Honor us with your presence!" Bess chants. Cole step away from you when the candles roar and your vision is filled with bright red and orange.

The ground beneath you rumbles. Whispers fill your ears, nothing you can ever imagine understanding, but something tells you they're other summoners. Or maybe little souls of those who were just where you are now, with a people sacrificing them.

It's odd, you think as blood soaks your back, your hair. You thought you'd be more scared in what could be your final moments. But there's only anguish where there should be fear. Only unfettered violent tension felt in your muscles, and a tongue hungering for iron and gore. You're jaw is wound tight enough to shatter your teeth.

If you could think straight, if you weren't about to die, you might be a little concerned. Never have you wanted to sink your fingers into someone's soft bits as much as you do now. This is normal, right? A normal amount of rage for the people taking your life.

Something in your gut tells you it's not.

In the fog of your rage, you missed the appearance of a pair of men above you. They hover, leathery plum colored wings sagging. One wears a leather strap harness across his chest, while the other favors an unbuttoned silk shirt. One of them looks at you curious as the fire dies, steam and copper colored smoke bellowing from his mouth. A thick cigar hangs on his lips.

"You came! There's... two of you?" Cole gawks, then falls to his knees beside Bess. You can't help but scoff at their sniveling forms.

"We did. There are." The one without the cigar brushes back his long mohawk to get a better look at the whimpering humans. They're nothing new to them, just another set of weak little things looking to get something without putting in the work for it.

Well, they might have had to put in the work to capture you, based on the way you still squirm and fight the rope keeping your arms together. So much blood has left you. You are going to die. Yet you spend your last moments doing what most humans find to be a waste of precious time. Being angry. It's interesting.

"What do you want?" The bearded one in the silk shirt grunts out around his cigar. Bess lifts her head just a bit to speak.

"We want to make a trade. A soul for a better life for us."

There's a moment of silence. You blink your heavy lids, growing too tired to do much else anymore. Both demons look back at you, then to the kneeling humans.

"They're not dead." They say at the same time.

Bess and Cole stiffen and finally chance a glance at you. You're bleeding, a glassy look to your eye and a smile on your face, but you're not dead.

"See, Bess?" You cough up blood only to swallow it back down, "what did I tell you? The cunt can't make me come and can't... can't even make me go."

The mohawked devil pops a wicked smile, not even hiding it from his would-be contractors.

Cole fumes. "I can finish the job. Fuck, am I going to finish the job." He stands, moving to step into the circle only to yelp, the invisible border around the summoning circle becoming visible if only to shock Cole back.

"Not so fast," the bearded one spawns a scroll in his hand. He's eyes glow a molten orange as he scans it. "Section 1, clause 3, part 19 states: executioner(s) must sacrifice one(1) human soul to contractee(s)... Let's see... Here it is: Sacrificee(s) must be dead upon arrival so that proper collection can be done. If sacrificee(s) is still soul bond upon arrival, then they are made the true contractor and all work will be conducted with them."

"In other words," the mohawked one grinned, "you should have went for the heart." He taps at his chest.

"Or the neck." The other devil offers.

"Or that vein in they're thigh."

"The sephenous, Johnny."

"Yeah, that."

"No, no!" Cole grabs at his hair as Bess looks like she's about to start crying. You want to laugh. They deserve the despair. They deserve the horror in their mistake. They were going to kill you!

"That means," the devils lean back to look at you. "You're our contractor. You get two requests at the price of one, human. I suggest one of those requests includes healing you." He flicks the ashes of his cigar on your leg. You don't even have to think of what you want most right now.

"I want you to untie me." You roll on your side. They wait for the rest. Cole and Bess look like they're going to shit themselves from the pale faced looks of terror they give you. Your eyes narrow. "And a hammer. A old fashioned iron and wood handled hammer."

Another beat of silence before the infernals bend over in laughter. The room shacks, sulfuric smoke pouring from their mouths to funk up the room. Cole tries to cox Bess to her feet while they're distracted. Their feet can't move though. It's like they're glued in placed and no amount of pulling and tugging could get them loose. Shame.

"Yer a funny one, love. I'll love having your soul for a few eternities." The one in leather floats over you, tilting his head this way and that way to get a good look at you. You settle him with a neutral look. "My name is Johnny. You sure that's what you want? I think you've only got a few minutes left in you."

"Then let's hurry this up a little, huh?"

"Ooh, you heard 'em." The cigared one snickers and snaps his claws. Two contracts appear in front of your face, both written in a language you can hardly comprehend. A pen appeared in front of your mouth. "Sign on the dotted line please."

You take the quill in your mouth, dip it in the blood beneath you.

"Rah 'ere?"

"Mhm."

You lean forward to dot the paper with your sloppy signature, but bizarrely enough, it seems like the powers that be have decided that they haven't made enough appearances. The floor trembles, and you worry about your poor infrastructure for a fraction of a second, when a set of gold doors spawn right behind you. You roll back onto your back to intake everything. You swear you're hallucinating when a pair of white winged angels step out, the clouded blue of heaven at their back.

"Hello?" You greet stupidly. You must be losing your mind, right? What the fuck is happening.

"Do not sign a thing." The bronzen angel instructs. "Human, we are here as messengers. God sees great things for you in your ascension. Please do not squander that to these demons." He shoots a sharp look at the demonic pair. The angel's counterpart wears a white cloak, obscuring all but his glowing golden eyes. You half expect him to sing "Be not afraid." despite you actively shitting bricks.

Oddly enough, their appearence seems to have some sort of healing property. Your lethargy starts to clear and the blade in your gut starts to get pushed out. Nothing hurts anymore.

"Oh, so we've got a big soul on our hands here, huh?" Johnny smirks. "Price, what's the plan?"

Price the devil throws his cigar to the ground and crushes it.

"Do what we do best. Bargain."

"Don't play with us, Price." The shrouded angel grunts. He's got a mind piercing voice that's got your head ringing, and you swear it echoes despite the room being well furnished. "We can provide them with just as much, if not more, at no cost of their soul." Those gold orbs land on you. "All we ask for is your faith."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You tug at your bonds with renewed vigor. The angels wince at the mention of their Lord, but only watch as you force yourself upright. "I could not give a rat's ass who gets what! How about this? First one to get me free and a hammer in hand gets my loyalty."

There's two resounding snaps from either side of you. The ropes disappear, a hammer is in your left and right hand. You don't think deeper on what that implies. You finally stand, dropping the hammer in your nondominant hand, and march over to the two people you thought you could trust. They kneel now, seemingly ready to beg for their souls.

"Come on, don't look scared now." You drop your hands on your hips. "What happened to you finishing the job?"

"I didn't want-"

"Say it with your chest." You poke his breast plate with the iron hammer head.

"I didn't want it to come to this!" Cole yells. The divine audience doesn't say anything about it. They watch you curiously as you bounce the hammer in hand. Your soul is visible to them. What should be a glowing ball of light is a red and white morning star, all sharp edges and pulsing like a heart. Your soul will certainly not end up with the others, that much is true.

"I just... I couldn't keep up with you! Your life style, the way you act, your job. I never left good enough. Bess expressed the same thing and we just... clicked. We would have just left, but we could have never lived without struggling, so we just..." He swallows. You can't look at him anymore, hands clenching at what he says next. "The book called for someone we cared for."

''That supposed to make me feel better?" You tilt your head. Cole winces, eyes falling on your feet. You look to Bess. "Thought you were better than this. You were going to kill me. Because what, I was happy? I loved both of you, you could have just talked to me."

"We're sorry! What more do you want?" Bess sobs. You straighten up, bouncing the hammer on your hip, acting like you next action is something to deliberate. You already know what they deserve, and a flash of sadness bubbles in your chest, but it quickly passes as a hot, searing emotion burns a hole into what little hesitation you had left.

"Reckon I want your souls after all the shit you've caused." You grin before swinging the hammer back and caving in Cole's chest.

"Fuck..." is all you can say after everything is done. Cole and Bess lay in a bloody heep, all recognizable features destroyed and crushed. You pant, hands trembling and nothing but white noise and static crunching around in your head. You just killed your best friend and boyfriend. For some reason, you've never felt so light.

Someone's whistle gets followed by a clap.

"Impressive. Done that before?" Johnny chuckles. He floats closer, hand running down your back as he moves past and pokes around the pulped organs. "Shite, did them right in. Can't tell which is which."

"I've never-" you start to answer, but hands are clapped onto your shoulders, shocking you into silence.

"Well, that was a good place to start, lad. Your swings were a bit sloppy, but we can fix that." Price squeezes at your trapezius, massaging the stiffness out of them. A throat clears, and Price sighs like he forgot there was other company.

"We aren't finished. The human is our ward now, Price." The uncloaked angel snaps his finger, pulling you from Price and making you spawn between the two angels. The bronzen angel smiles down at you with teeth so white you could damn near see your reflection.

"There you are. It's nicer to have you close. My friend here is Simon and I'm-"

"Come on, Kyle, you know he's ours!" Johnny spits, his wings flaring out. "We gave him the hammer first, so piss off."

"Uh...huh." Kyle's smile falls. "I think you're a bit mistaken. Look, after executing the human's request, I have his name here." A stone slab appears in front of your face. It's smells like sunshine and warm grass. What the fuck. "His pledge to the Lord has been set and his soul already has a place next to Their throne."

"Right, right, like we don't have documentation neither." Johnny huffs. The stone disappears as a scroll appears next to the devil. The smell of sulfur and smoke wafts over to you. "His name is right there, pretty boy. Getting yer fuckin' lookers on."

Kyle ignores the rude tone and does pull out a pair of reading glasses to go over the scroll. You stand there in the silence, a little too scared to speak up. What could you do anyway? In a blind anger, you didn't really have the mind to think any of this out. Angels and devils are fighting over you because you'd stupid ass was too blood hungry to think past murder. All that can be done is for them to figure this out amongst themselves, and for you to wait for the sentencing. Heaven, or Hell?

"...Simon." Kyle slowly pulls his glasses off. "This is legit. His soul is promised to all of us."

You glance up at Simon, the scary motherfucker. He blinks. Once. Twice. Then pinches the bridge of his nose with a hagard sigh.

"Shit."

That's not good.

Johnny laughs, Price grinning like a dog with a bone. Kyle marches over to you, patting your shoulders with an awkward smile. His demeanor reminds you of the way your mom acted when she said she was going to divorce your dad. And all you can think is "Not this again." Are you going to be spending your afterlife going between heaven and hell forever? Does God get weekends because Their day is Sunday or whatever?

"We need to go and talk this over with some superiors. We'll clean this up," Kyle snaps and the gore is gone, so is the ritual circle and candles. "And we'll get back to you in the morning." He places a feather light kiss on your forehead, and suddenly you're squeaky clean and in the softest set of pajamas you've ever worn. "Stay safe while we're gone and don't allow these two to influence you. Get some rest."

"Blah, blah, blah," Johnny mocks from the sidelines. Price tilts his head, and there's nothing but amusement behind those eyes. Yeah, this is exactly like your parents divorce.

"O-okay? I mean, I'll try." You shrug.

Simon nods. "That's all you can do." He steps back into the golden doorway and Kyle falls in stride. You make some distance, and with a final wave from a white toothed angel, the doors shut with a slam that shakes the house's foundation.

"Just you and us now, stud."

You turn with a comedic slowness to the devils. Price chuffs and floats forward. His assess you, takes you in in all your fluffy white pajama glory, and it seems he finds what he wants when he nods.

"Guess we've got to talk with top brass to see what's going on ourselves. Pity we couldn't stick around longer." The devil's eyes never meet yours, staying glued to various parts of your face. They hop from ears, to your eyebrows, down to your lips. Christ on a bike, is it getting hot in here? His blue, glowing cerulean eyes appear to flash with something.

"Shite, yer right." Johnny groans. "I hate going down there."

"Suck it up, love. You know how I feel about sharing." Price drops his interest in you like an old toy and takes Johnny close by his waist. You watch with a lead poisoned stare as their noses touch intimately, words you can't hear being exchanged. It's kinda of awkward to just stand there and watch but your brain isn't really functioning well enough to tell you to stop.

"Hey, stud." You blink, refocusing on the pair. Johnny seems to have climbed his partner, his legs on his waist and arms around his neck. Price makes busy opening a portal to hell in your livingroom with one hand, supporting Johnny under his ass with the other. "Sit pretty, yeah? 'll be back before those two arseholes, promise."

"Right... yeah." You nod. "Uh, be safe?"

"Be safe, he says." Price mutters. "Cute." Johnny waves until Price steps through the infernal hole and falls from view. The portal closes right behind him so you'd have no hopes of seeing anything but the red hue of smog and dust.

And here you are. A little dazed, a little sad, probably holding back a break down from the last hour of events. But you're alive and you're healed. There's no blood to clean, you're in comfortable pajamas. Could probably sleep right now if your brain would stop for a minute, but it doesn't look like that's in the plans.

So you look for something to do. Cole and Bess and moved around all your furniture to make the summoning circle. Guess you can start there, right?

[twistedfics]

𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔

Leona (twisted wonderland) x AFAB!reader (no pronouns mentioned) NSFW

2.3k+ words

~

hi! this story is 18+ and contains dark content. read at your own risk.

tags/warnings: ⚠️ non-con/dub-con, somno, biting, dacryphilia, breeding, possessive sex, mating, leona is in rut, licking, cum eating, kinda yandere ig?, leona is mean, maybe a bit ooc

~

summary: what if the night you stayed at savanaclaw went a little.... differently?

Leona had been acting strange. Or, at least, that’s what you thought. You couldn’t exactly say you knew the guy very well but something seemed off about him. 

But then again, maybe you were just majorly pissing him off. If you knew anything about him at all, it would probably be that he wouldn’t exactly want people (that he doesn’t seem to like, especially) all up in his business. And especially not in his bed. Whoops.

You’ll admit, it wasn’t the best arrangement, but given your current options, it was all you had. You had to stay somewhere right? It’s only temporary, you can live with him hating you for a night. 

Leona grumbled to himself, tail flinging around as you attempted to make yourself comfortable. He had thrown himself down in the middle of his bed in the midst of his little tantrum and you were forced to squeeze yourself into the bed the best you could. And as far away as you could manage. All those times you thought about Leona getting you into his bed, this wasn’t exactly what you had imagined.

“This is so fucking stupid. I should just throw you out and let you and that damn cat of yours find someone else to bother.” He spat in your direction, but you didn’t acknowledge it. Maybe if you just face the other way and pretend to sleep, he’ll calm down?

“You better not make a fucking sound tonight. If you wake me up, you’re dead, herbivore.” Guess not. 

You sighed and turned slightly in the bed, looking over your shoulder at him. You spoke softly, “Look, Leona. I’m sorry about this, really. but I really appreciate you letting us stay here. I’ll keep quiet, okay? You won’t even know I’m here.”

He didn’t look at you, but you heard a quiet “ugh” which you decided to take as a response. You knew you weren’t getting much more. 

“Goodnight, Leona,” you said as you turned back to face the wall, closing your eyes. You just needed some sleep, and then you’ll figure everything out in the morning.

~*~

You awoke to a room that was far too dark for it to be anywhere near morning. You felt hot. Way, way, way too hot. You attempted to move but found yourself constricted. What was going on? 

In your half-asleep state, you tried to kick away whatever it was that was holding you in place, and your heart nearly stopped when you were lucid enough to feel it. Something was pressed up against you from behind, holding your body against the mattress. Your eyes shot open when you felt something wet and hot against your neck. 

You tried to scream and were immediately silenced with a hand over your mouth. 

“Shh. I told you to be quiet.” A deep voice growled in your ear. Leona? That was definitely him. What in the seven was he doing?

“Leona, wha-” your voice was muffled, and he shushed you again. “You smell so good,” he mumbled, shifting against you. And that’s when you felt it. Something long and hard pressed against your ass. 

Panic shot through you as you began to struggle against him. You managed to turn yourself towards him before he got a hold of you again, removing his hand from your mouth in the process.

“Stop. Stop, Leona, please!” You cried trying desperately to pull yourself out of his grasp. This proved impossible, as he simply tightened his hold on you. It felt like he was trying to crush you to death.

“Maybe you should of thought of that earlier? You know, before you decided to invade my space all night.” He spoke low, way too casual for the situation you were in. His teeth pressed against your neck and you gasped.

This is apparently your fault to him??? You didn’t ask for this! You were only staying here out of necessity anyway. Sure he was hot, and you can’t lie that you haven’t thought of this before, but you never wanted it like this. Why now? Why you?! Violated just because a man can’t keep it in his pants? It’s sick!

Despite your constant struggling and protests though, Leona didn’t let up. His claws were digging into where he held you by your hips and you were sure your neck was probably bruised beyond belief. And to make matters worse, no amount of your crying was keeping him from pressing himself into your thigh. 

“Leona, please! You’re scaring me. Let me go right now!” Your pleas fell on deaf ears as he maneuvered himself on top of you. One of his hands held your wrists together above your head, the rest of his body pinning you against the mattress. Tears were falling down your cheeks now, sobs getting stuck in your throat. You were no match for his strength. You couldn’t see yourself getting out of this alone.

“Do you ever shut up?” He growled, attacking your neck with his teeth again. His claws started to work at tearing your shirt apart and his hips not so subtly ground against your thigh. You tried to thrash around one last time, but the groan that came from him at your movements stopped you in your tracks. This was a nightmare.

“W-why are you doing this?” Your voice was shaking now, sobs being ripped from your throat at every nip of his teeth against it.

“I let you sleep here out of the kindness of my heart, didn’t I? I should at least get something out of it.” He had completed his task of ripping your top to shreds, and he slowly moved himself down your body, biting and sucking at your skin the whole way.

You whimpered when he reached your chest, licking at one of your nipples while his hand came up to pinch at the other one. He teased you for a while, switching between your tits, sucking and licking at your nipples while massaging the other one. 

You could feel him each time he ground himself against your thigh. He was so hard, and you could almost swear he was growing harder- if that was even possible. Pre-cum dripped from his tip and soaked the front of his pants, so much so that you could feel it, sticky on your exposed skin.

His free hand moved down to toy at the waistband of your shorts and your breath hitched. He was really doing this. This was really happening. 

You tried to free your hands but found that he still had your wrists caught in an iron grasp. Tears were now pouring down your face, begging and pleading as you sobbed for him to stop, to just let you go. 

Why did this have to happen to you?

He came back up so he was level with you, his face just centimeters from yours. You searched his eyes for any kind of remorse at what he was doing, but there was nothing. His pupils were blown wide with lust as he smirked down at you.

His face moved closer towards you and you froze as you felt him lick at your face, wiping away your tears in the most disgusting way possible. You felt like you were going to vomit.

“You’re cute when you cry. Be a lot cuter if you were quiet though,” he whispered to you, nipping at your ear before moving back down your body. 

You had given up struggling, accepting your fate. You couldn’t get out of this. He was too strong, and there was no reasoning with him. Something was wrong. He wouldn’t listen, you knew that. 

You cried even harder as he finally ripped away the material of your shorts. You felt humiliated, left in just your panties as you cried and shook beneath him.

His hand slipped past your panties to toy with your cunt, and you watched in horror as he flashed you a predatory smile. 

His next words sent ice through your veins, “Would you look at that, herbivore? You’re soaked. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Freak.” He chuckled and you felt as if you weren’t even in your own body anymore.

Were you enjoying this? No! You can’t be. You’re scared out of your mind and you want it to stop. So why are you wet? Surely a natural reaction, right? There’s no way you could actually be into this kind of thing, right?

“Look at that pretty pussy. All f’ me.” While you were lost in thought, he had torn your underwear away completely. He spread you apart with two fingers, watching as your wetness dripped from your core between your thighs. You didn’t think you’ve ever been more embarrassed.

He pressed down harshly on your clit, closely watching your reaction as your whole body jerked. His stare had you pinned, you felt like prey being stalked. But the lion had already caught you. 

“I hope you’re ready, herbivore. I’m done waiting.” He let go of your wrists and swiftly flipped your body around. Your face was now pressed against the mattress, support from your arms taken from you as he once again pinned your wrists, this time holding them behind your back. 

With one hand he pulled your hips up, leaving you face down with your ass up, level with his hips as he kneeled behind you. He removed his hand for a moment, and you heard the rustling of clothes before you felt his hard cock pressing against your soaked entrance. 

His hand came back to grip your hip, claws digging in and leaving marks on your skin. Your body involuntarily tightened up as it anticipated what would come next.

Leona pushed his hips forward slowly, groaning softly as he forced the tip of his leaking cock into your little cunt. 

“If you don’t relax this is going to hurt a hell of a lot more than it would have,” he grunted and continued to press forward.

You whimpered as you tried to force yourself to relax, your body not wanting to welcome the intrusion. He was huge! It hurt like hell, but no matter what, he wasn’t stopping, and you cried out as his tip stretched you out more than you had ever felt before. 

“That’s it. Take it, you little brat.” You moaned as his cock continued to stretch you out, the feeling burning more with each inch that entered you.

After what felt like forever, he finally bottomed out. He sighed as his hips pressed against your ass and you took a deep breath to try and prepare for what came next. You could feel him inside of you, pressing against the walls of your pussy, hot and twitching.

Without warning he pulled back and quickly slammed his hips forward, pressing you hard against his bed. He gave you no time to adjust, starting out with a quick and brutal pace, abusing your pussy with each harsh thrust.

“Fuck! You’re so tight~ So perfect for me, herbivore.” He bent himself over you hammering his hips into you as he spoke into your ear. His words were interrupted by his own moans, matching the sounds you made as you cried and drooled into the pillows. 

He nipped and licked at the back of your neck, working his way over your shoulders as his cock hit that perfect spot inside of you. You gasped and felt him grin against your skin. You weren’t supposed to like this! So why did it feel so good?

“That feel good, huh?” He readjusted to continue hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars, fucking you impossibly harder. He let go of your wrists to get a better grip on your waist and your hands fell limply to the bed. You moaned loudly, losing yourself to the feeling of his cock deep inside of you, letting yourself enjoy the moment. He bent his body over you once more, licking at the shell of your ear, making you shudder. “Cum for me, baby,” he whispered to you, “Cum. For. Me.” 

Each word was punctuated with an insanely hard thrust, sending you hurtling over the edge. Your vision blacked and you screamed, falling completely limp in his arms as your orgasm hit you hard.

You tried to catch your breath, but Leona didn’t let up. He continued his harsh pace, fucking you into the mattress as he panted and moaned in your ear. The wet sounds of his hips slapping against your thighs echoed through the dark room. 

“Almost there, fuck!” he moaned loudly, his claws biting into your skin as he held you in a death grip. 

“Leona~ Leona, please, stop it hurts, please!” The sensation of overstimulation had you sobbing again, repeatedly chanting Leona’s name and begging for him to stop, to just give you a break.

“Shh, shh~ Shit! I'm almost there! Fuck, just a bit more baby,” He moaned directly in your ear, face pressed into the crook of your neck. “I’m gonna fill you up, yeah? Fuck you full of my cum, everyone’s gonna know you’re all mine- fuck! My own personal little fuck toy. My mate.”

His words sent you over the edge again, screaming out his name as you clenched down on his cock. He followed right after you, biting down hard on your shoulder, breaking the skin as he pumped you full of his hot cum. You could feel it inside you, hot and sticky as it filled you up while he rode out his high. 

When his hips finally stuttered to a stop, he collapsed on top of you, trapping you beneath him. You were both a sweaty, panting mess and it was a while before he finally lifted himself off you.

He slowly pulled out, watching as his and your cum gushed from your cunt, staining the sheets below. Using his fingers, he scooped some up and pulled your head back by your hair, shoving it into your open, panting mouth.

You closed your lips around his fingers and sucked and he sat back to watch as you licked his hand clean. He removed his fingers with a pop, drying them off on the sheets before giving you a quick pat on the head.

“You'll be a good little mate.”

hi there! if you made it this far, thank you! sorry if this was a little rocky, it was my first time writing smut/dark content. i'm a little rusty with my writing >_< but i tried my best!

if you enjoyed this, please like and/or reblog! interaction is very much appreciated! <3

[fadingdaggerr]

omfggg I just finished reading truth be told and it was so amazing and good and wonderful and wow wow wow you're so talented!!! can you please please consider writing a part 2 where r and Mel slowly start dating and Mel starts bringing them back around her family and introducing them to the Abbott crew and everyone is like 👀👀 and then Mel asks them to marry her and everyone is Mel's family is like FINALLY.

truth be lived

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: part two of truth be told, based on request above | 9.6k

includes: useless lesbian disease, fluff, more fluff bc the last part didn't have enough

warnings: they/them pronouns used for r, slight insecurity, kissing/making out

translation: peluche (italian - teddy bear)

italics are flashbacks

note: god this took me so long i’m sorry. my brain is an evil being. but N E ways how shocked are we that this is way fucking longer than part one? we aren’t? that’s what i thought. swear my dumbass can't make it easy on myself, but i just really wanted to grow the relationship and not just throw it out there yk?? excuses excuses, i know

It’s almost worse than when Barbara made her go a month without caffeine. Scratch that. It’s fifty times worse. It’s been a week that Melissa has gone without getting to see you. The week that will finally come to a close once the clock strikes seven and you show up at her door.

Saturdays, as of late, the two of you spent nearly three hours in a coffee shop, talking endlessly until your macchiatos went cold. Catching up on over a decade apart was slowly patching the dam that gave out all those years ago. A month of this gravitated to getting lunch together during the week, sitting together on a bench in the halfway point between your jobs. A couple more weeks, and you started going to the bar on Fridays to get your whiskey sours to celebrate the end of a hard week.

It was over stealing a cherry from your drink that Melissa got brave enough to ask you what had been on her mind since she saw you again. She knew it had to be her move, after all that had happened before.

“Next Friday night, you busy?” Melissa asks as she picks the stem off.

Your tongue ghosts over your lips, “not at all. And for you, I’m always free.”

“Would you wanna go out? With me?” An exhale rattles her chest, “Like a- like a date?”

Scanning her face, all you can see is sincerity in her question, and not a touch of restraint. The corners of your lips fly up, creases around your eyes deepening as you take in the sight of a nervous, but hopeful, Melissa. What you wouldn’t give to cradle those flushed, pink cheeks and kiss her right now.

“I would love to go on a date with you,” you answer, “name the time and place, and I’m there.”

A grin that’s equally dorky as yours appears on Melissa's face, her smile prevalent in her voice, “you worry about nothing. I’ll pick you up.”

Green eyes flick from the Tucci mug in front of her to the clock over the door. Only eleven hours and forty minutes, not that she’s counting. A sigh passes her lips at her own desperation. She went nearly a decade without you, half a week shouldn’t be this hard. By God, though, it is.

By lunch, it feels like another week passed her by. A sense of freedom fills Melissa, finally able to dig her phone out of the bottom drawer of her desk where she previously jailed it, too tempted to check for texts from you or send her own. For added proof of her restraint, she doesn’t allow herself to look at the screen until she sits at the table next to Barb.

The moment leather pants meet the hard plastic chair, her phone is ripped from her pocket, glasses perched on her nose. Glossy lips stretch into a smile immediately.

Peluche: any idea how to make 6.5 hours into 0?

Peluche: asking for a friend

Tell your ‘friend’ if I knew, I would have done it.

The little smirk on her face does not go unnoticed by the others in the room, though none are brave enough to ask about it. Jacob eyes his roommate from across the room. He’s seen the weight on her shoulders fly off within the last few weeks, the oven door hasn’t slammed once, she didn’t even make fun of his new kombucha. Early excuses to retire to her bedroom were becoming more frequent, and after a very brave snooping session, Jacob heard tiny bits of a phone call. Breathy giggles coming from his roommate made him step away, an act to save not only his room, but also his life.

The little grin that would appear on her face, before she scurried upstairs, was the same one that she wears at this very moment. It takes the willpower of a thousand Ava’s in a hookah bar to not jump up and down at the thought that Melissa may be seeing someone again, someone clearly better for her. With all of his self-control, held together with sheer desperation, he glances at Barbara. God’s number one soldier is smiling to herself, giving a little nod as she feels his gaze on her. Confirmation.

There’s a certain pep in her step the rest of the day. Not one eye roll as Janine breathlessly recounted her walk back from the deli, no pinching the bridge of her nose when a student asked a question she’d answered seven times already today, not even one occurrence of biting her tongue to save herself an elbow from Barbara. Blissfully happy Melissa is almost more terrifying than angry Melissa, her stiff walk replaced with a certain bounce that didn’t diminish.

“Alright, little eagles, it is go-time! Move it, move it! If you’re not out the door in ten seconds, you’re spending the night with the Abbott ghosts!” The kids all run past Melissa in a flock of giggles as she mentally counts each one, making sure everyone is accounted for before locking up her room. Giddiness grows in her chest, T-minus four hours, and she finds herself just as motivated as the children to run out the doors. Uncharacteristically, she tries to avoid Barbara on her way out, trying to get home as fast as humanly possible, knowing she would be in a frenzied overdrive once she starts getting ready to see you.

“Melissa!” She cringes as she hears her name at the end of the hall, stalling her in her place. Turning on her heel, the redhead faces the floor to hide the pained expression she wears, before looking back up. “Girl, where are you going in such a hurry? You’re moving like the devil is on your heels.”

“The devil couldn’t catch me if he tried,” Melissa snorts, “and I’m just tryna get home, I got plans tonight.”

Barbara raises a brow, “plans, you say? With whom?”

“No one,” she replies, but the sly grin and pink cheeks give her away.

The kindergarten teacher hums, “well, you have fun with no one. I expect a debrief Monday morning, maybe Saturday if you find some free time.” Pink cheeks go as red as Melissa’s hair at the insinuation, only managing a little huff and nod as a response before slinking off to her car.

—☽—

Melissa had given you only one direction for tonight, being that you should dress warm. As much as she knew the limited information would bother you, she hoped you trusted her enough to go along with it, and you did without question, but not without a half-second of hesitation. She could already picture the game of eenie-meenie you would likely play when you went to pick out a sweater or sweatshirt.

And she would be right. With an hour left before Melissa was to arrive, you stood half-naked in front of the closet on your fifth round of the game in trying to choose what to wear. Though every time you reject an option, you’d manage to find a potential reason to go with it, and the cycle keeps going. Deciding to let fate take its chance, you throw an arm over your eyes and blindly swing the other to randomly grab something to wear, at this point you don’t even care if it’s the matching Bluey sweatshirt you share with your nephew.

Fate is on your side it seems, the blind reach procuring a loose fitting, dark grey sweater, one you’d owned over half your life. One that Melissa had stolen many times before, that you had to steal back from her. Without a second thought, you put a longsleeve on before the sweater, just in case it finds a way to pass ownership.

Similarly to last week, you find yourself tense and jittery, waiting on the edge of your seat for the text that tells you that you’ll be able to see her again. Bosco nudges at your hands to be pet, clearly noticing your nerves, attempting to snuggle them away. He’s an expert, your shaky hands stilling as you scratch gently around his neck, dodging his wet nose before it meets your eye. Utterly in the zone petting the spaniel, your phone pinging pulls you from your trance.

pretty girl: Ready when you are.

i’ll be right down, just a sec

pretty girl: Take your time hon.

You, in fact, do not take your time, but what Melissa doesn’t see, she can’t possibly know. Panting at the bottom of the stairs, you take a spare few seconds to catch your breath before walking towards the only car in the lot with its lights on. Leaning against it was Melissa, picking at her nails with pursed lips, a tell-tale sign of her nerves. The closer you get, the more clearly you can see her. Her bright pink hoodie is clearer now, contrasting against a pair of leather pants that almost rip the air from your lungs.

The words leave your lips before you can really stop them, “you’re beautiful.”

Bright eyes look up from the pavement, wide with surprise from your seemingly sudden appearance in front of her. Heat spreads from down her face to her chest at the compliment, feeling every bit of it from head to toe, reveling in the warmth of your attention. It’s been years since you’ve looked at her like this, much less spoken.

“You-” she breathes, “you’re wow.” A second wave hits her when she sees what you’re wearing, that fucking sweater. She’d stolen it more times than she can count, straight from the closet or even directly off of your body, and now it was within arms reach again.

“Should’ve asked first, wearing your sweater and all,” you say lightheartedly, hoping that it will calm the nerves between you both.

“I guess I can let it slide this time,” Melissa chuckles, looking down bashfully. “You ready to get going?”

All you manage is a nod, far too excited to be in her presence to get anymore words out. Ever the gentlewoman, Melissa slides in front of you to open your door, closing it once you’ve slid into your seat. You knew better than to ask where you were going, the redhead already told you three times that she wasn’t spoiling anything for you.

The entirety of the twenty minute drive, it takes a god-like amount of effort to keep from staring at Melissa’s hand on the gear shift. Shimmering rings just beg to be fiddled with, hand asking to be held, but you refrain from crossing the line. The late time keeps the road relatively empty, though Philly streets are never silent, a cacophony of horns and yelling seems to linger regardless of the sun’s presence.

The car pulls into a lot of a building, only a small deli on the first level, the rest appears to be utterly vacant. Slowly, you turn to face Melissa, looking at her with pure confusion and a need for an answer.

She peeks over, sensing your gaze on her. Putting the car in park she simply says, “just trust me.”

“I do,” you reply without hesitation.

It takes very little persuading for you to begin following Melissa, in through the deli where she greeted the man at the front desk. From the little Italian you still remember from being around her family, you pick up something about a door and the two of you being allowed to do something. All the fishing for translation in your mind halts when a hand goes to the small of your back, guiding you to the back of the shop towards the stairs. At the top floor, Melissa reaches around you to put the code into the door, opening the roof access. Three thick blankets stacked on top of one another, with a cooler holding them down, greet you when you turn after watching the redhead prop the door open with a brick.

A sort of wonder takes over, just following her movements as she sits on the blankets, patting the spot next to her. Taking residence next to her, you scoot closer without even an attempt of subtlety. Glossy lips curve into a smile at your action, Melissa immediately trying to hide it by reaching into the orange cooler.

From the cooler, she pulls out a shaker and a bottle of whiskey, peeking at you with a mischievous look in her eye. Without breaking eye contact, she lifts out simple syrup and lemon juice. Simultaneously, both your noses scrunch, leaning into each other slightly as you snicker, feeling juvenile in the excitement of it all. 

Despite taking the time to garnish both your drinks with maraschinos, you pretend to not notice the sly reaches to pull them out of your drink. As far as you’re concerned, she can have whatever she wants if you get to hear that quiet, satisfied giggle.

Reaching into the cooler again, Melissa pulls out a small radio, checking her watch as she fiddles with the dials. After a few moments, you hear what sounds like the opening credits of a movie. Knocking her knee with your own to get your attention, she points to a screen a little ways away, a small drive-in theater that you didn’t even know was in the city. Squinting a little to see the title from the distance, you see that it’s Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, one of her father’s favorites. The thought alone makes you smile, he’d gotten you both into westerns once you were ‘old enough to appreciate them,’ meaning when you were well into your twenties.

It takes little time for the two of you to end up pressed against each other, everything packed away and forgotten off to the side. The two of you stay quiet as you listen to the movie, both mouthing lines you remember. Your eyes long to look at her, so you look down to grab your drink, shifting your eyes to look at Melissa.

Once you do, all you can do is watch her, her hands, her eyes, her lips, how content she is written on her face. It’s hard to take your eyes off her, it always has been, but right now it feels more difficult than ever. Yellow street lights barely illuminate her, everything you can see is because of the sheer closeness of your bodies. The warmth radiating off of her is grounding, the chill around you nonexistent.

Feeling your attention on her quickly has Melissa turning towards you. She’s met with a nose brushing against hers, both of your eyes widening at the newfound closeness. Neither of you even attempt to move away, completely engrossed in each other’s gaze; the closest you two had been in a decade, here and now.

“Can I-” She doesn’t get a chance to finish her sentence.

“Please.”

Lips rush to press against yours, moving quickly, but so carefully that you can’t help the whine that crawls out of your throat. It takes even less time for your hands to slide up to her face, holding her close as her own hands wander to hold your sides. Needy fingers weave into her hair, tugging lightly at soft copper. Melissa groans into your mouth, tongue swiping against your lips, being met with instant entry and a cross between a sigh and moan.

Any remaining gloss that wasn’t sticking to the plastic cups was spread across your lips, giving you a taste of cherry and lemon, whiskey shared between you. The feeling of her tongue is intoxicating, and all you can manage is to haul her closer, wanting her entirely against you. Catching on, Melissa pushes further into you, leaning you down onto the blankets. The change in position seems to bring a moment of pause to both of you, parting for a moment to catch your breaths.

Slowly, you open your eyes, meeting jade eyes with blown out pupils. Detangling your hands from her hair, you bring them back to hold her face. Stroking your thumb over her cheek, her eyes flutter shut as a deep breath leaves her chest. You gently pass over her cheekbone, following the slope to her lips, kiss-swollen and lovely. Brushing against her lips, you see her eyes open again, watching your attention on her skin. You can practically feel the nerves radiating off of her.

Tugging her down gently, you press a soft kiss to her lips, easy and slow. A silent reassurance that you weren’t going anywhere, that you want this just as much as she does.

The entire drive back to your building, Melissa keeps her hand in yours, enjoying the feeling of your grip tightening around hers every now and then. Uncharacteristically, she drives the speed limit through the streets, wanting to prolong her time with you as much as she can. Pulling into the lot, she lifts your hand to press a kiss to it before hopping out, rounding the car to open your door.

“What a charmer,” you joke, voice bubbly and light from pure adoration for the woman. Humming, Melissa’s fingers tangle with yours as she walks you to the door. Leaning against the cold brick of the building, you pull her in closer, wanting her in your orbit a little longer.

Her thumb glides over your knuckles, “thank you, for tonight.”

“Thank you. Next time, though, I’m planning everything,” an easy smile crosses your face as you fiddle with her rings. You watch a barely suppressed excitement cross her features, feeling your heart swell at the sight.

Subconsciously, you both lean into each other, no words spoken between you. Your eyes flick to her licks, catching her attention. With a barely there touch, Melissa presses a kiss to your lips, lingering as you just barely keen into her. As she pulls away, she forces herself to take a step back, knowing if she stays close that she’ll never leave.

“Can’t wait,” she says, a smile on her lips that never fades when she’s around you.

“Text me when you get home?” You have to keep a hand on the wall behind to keep you in place, too drawn to Melissa for your own good.

She chuckles, taking a step back, “it’s a five minute drive.”

“Just text me, please,” your head drops to the side, looking at her through your lashes.

The only you get is a little nod, reveling in her little smirk as she turns away. Your eyes stay on her, intent on seeing her safely to her car, but she seems to have other ideas. Before she even reaches the fence, Melissa turns on her heel and quickly walks back up to you. Without so much as a warning, she holds your face in her hands and plants one more solid kiss to your lips.

When she pulls away she sees your brows raised and a dumbfounded look on your face, it leaves her with a little spark of pride in her chest. Her thumb passes over your lip before she steps back, slowly walking backwards, “I’ll text you.”

—☽—

The trudging of Jacob coming upstairs shakes Melissa from her last minute indecisiveness about her choice of shirt, registering her open door, throwing the green shirt over her bra-clad form. Quick feet land her in front of her vanity, plopping in the seat to seem busy instead of fretful. Silent prayers that he leaves her alone go unanswered, peeking in as she unscrews the wand of her mascara.

“What’re you up to tonight?” Jacob asks, practically hopping up to her.

She purposely avoids looking at him, “noneya.”

“Oooh, come on Mel-Mel! Spill!”

“Stop calling me that,” she lets out shortly, carefully blinking on mascara. “I’m just going out, that’s all.” Melissa promised herself the second you came back into her life, she wouldn’t refer to you as just a friend. Not until you told her that’s all you want from her, she couldn’t blame you for that choice after all of her own.

You are beginning to run out of things to fill the time until Melissa arrives. The kitchen was wiped down and swept, the living room vacuumed, shit, you even wiped down the blinds. A nagging part of your mind keeps ringing that maybe you should change the blanket over the back of the couch, but the others don’t match the pillows and that will only make your skin crawl more.

A slammed door in the hall makes you startle out of the near catatonic state you’re in, eyes glazed over as they stare unfocused at the coffee table. Your eyes jump to the clock, the little hand getting closer and closer to the seven, only twenty minutes until she’s here. You let out a deep breath before it hits you, only twenty minutes.

Nearly crashing to the floor as your socks glide on the carpet, you rip the top drawer of your dresser open, brain rushing to figure out if the fluffy socks are a bad look or not. Eyes clenching, you sigh at the immaturity of your own thoughts, feeling like a middle schooler trying to get their crush to like them. It’s all frivolous, really. But, God, you want her to like you.

With five minutes left to wait, you find yourself sitting on the couch, staring at the dark TV screen as your leg bounces hard enough to cause a six-point magnitude earthquake.

Unbeknownst to you, Melissa has been sitting in the lot of your building for ten minutes, working up the courage to walk in. If she didn’t get here early, she is sure she would’ve been late walking inside. Melissa stretches out her hand from the tight clenched fists they had been, crescents in her palm from her pink acrylics. She has to reread her text about a million times before sending it.

Just pulled in.

Peluche: i’ll be right down, give me 30 seconds

Creaking of a heavy metal door takes Melissa out of her thoughts where she stands on the steps, turning to see your head just barely popping out of the door. Neither of you can help the little grins that come to your face, both of your attempts to hide them being useless against the other. Wordlessly, you wave her in, and Melissa is quick to obey. It’s quiet as you both climb the stairs, until you arrive at your front door.

The moment you press one number on the keypad, Bosco is barking up a storm on the other side of the door. When the door opens, he is just as quick to start jumping on Melissa, clearly remembering his friend that he hasn’t seen in almost three months.

“Bobo, dude,” you almost whine, trying to tug him away despite his excited hopping, “alright, enough. Bed, now, little freak.”

When you turn back to Melissa, her face is pink from laughter, the lines around her eyes deeper from the smile on her face. Slipping her jacket off her arms, she asks, “is he like that with everyone?”

“No, not everyone,” you answer, stepping forward to grab her jacket from her to hang up, “he’s usually only that excited when I get home or when my neighbor stops by, but he never jumps on him since the man’s like eight thousand years old.”

Melissa tries to ignore the shivers up her spine, “probably just remembers me, or I’m just that special.”

“Two things can be true at once,” you say sincerely, taking the bottle of wine with you as you search for the corkscrew. “I’ve only got stemless glasses, that okay?”

“Blasphemous,” she jokes, leaning against the counter, resting her weight on her elbows.

Lightheartedly, you roll your eyes, pouring her glass first. Melissa’s eyes light up as you swirl the wine in the glass before handing it to her, something she does before she starts any glass. It’s a pointless little thing she has done since Nonna began allowing her a small cup of wine at dinner when she was fifteen, she never thought you would remember something so miniscule.

It takes less than two minutes of sitting on the couch for Melissa to realize that she had made the biggest mistake telling you that she didn’t care what you watched tonight, that you had full reign of choosing. The Conjuring pops up on the screen, the ominous tree makes her groan. Dropping her chin to her shoulder, she stares at you. The pursing of your lips and strict avoidance of her eyes makes the stare turn to a glare.

“You’re fucking kidding,” she says with a facetious anger, “you’re fucking with me.”

Turning slowly, you put on a failing face of innocence, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit,” Melissa laughs through her words, “you’re trying to get me to walk outta here.”

“No! You said I could pick whatever I want,” you gesture towards the TV.

Melissa heads tilts down, but her eyes stay on you, lips turning up, “you tryna get me all scared like a cliche little movie date? Real sly.”

“So what if I am?” Your expression is playful, but there’s something in your voice that makes Melissa feel warm.

A deep breath leaves her lungs, “if this jump scares me, I’m hitting you with a pillow.”

“Thankfully, I have several,” you mumble, a sated smile on your lips as you press play. 

Two glasses of wine later, you find yourself relaxed into the arm of the couch, while Melissa sits curled into a ball, fully leaned into the back of the couch. For someone so confident and brave, it has always humored you that she was so easily scared of horror films. She nearly suffocated you when she came over one night all those years ago, Candyman left you with the redhead clinging to you like a baby koala.

A pitchy squeak pulls you from the reminiscing you can’t seem to escape, eyes scanning the screen, seeing the exorcism scene, before looking towards Melissa. With her hands over your eyes, you can see her mouth moving, quiet mutters of God dammit and mother fucker leaving glossy lips. It’s impossible to suppress the little chuckle that bubbles in your throat, and squinted green eyes stare you down.

“Shut up,” Melissa mumbles, looking at you rather than back at the movie.

“I didn’t say anything,” you can’t even say it with a straight face, “you’re the one that said I could pick the movie.”

Melissa throws the pillow in her lap at you with a weak arm, “you know I don’t like this scary shit. I’ll never get to sleep tonight.”

“I’ll put Fox and the Hound on after,” you offer. Olive eyes give you an unimpressed look, but the corners of her lips turn up before she gives a little nod in silent thanks.

Her eyes don’t leave you as your attention falls back on the screen, watching as you become fully engrossed in the happenings she refuses to acknowledge. Melissa’s mind churns over your earlier statement, how you might’ve just chosen this for her to get closer to you, and she wishes she could say your not-so-subtle plan wasn’t working. Yet, here she is, thinking that if you were holding her, this would feel like a Pixar film.

Slowly, as if you were the spooked one, she slowly shifts closer. After scanning for discomfort that she doesn’t find, Melissa leans closer, praying you’ll catch on.

“Get over here,” you mumble through a huffed laugh, shifting to rest your back against the arm, putting a leg down on the floor to open up space. Not wasting a second, Melissa lays down on top of you, tucking into you enough that only one eye is able to see the TV, but only if she strains to look up.

It takes zero time for your fingers to find the ends of her hair, the feeling only making Melissa settle in further. Your free hand gets a hold of the remote, turning off the movie before it’s even ended. While you’re looking for the cartoon, Melissa fishes her phone from her back pocket, not bothering to move as she checks her messages.

Jacob: sooo am i leaving the porchlight on or are u coming back in the morning

Put the light on, please.

Jacob: am i allowed to ask questions????

The redhead feels your laugh more than she hears it, peeking up she sees your smirking face. You tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, “you’re right, he’s nosy.”

“Told you. If we were at my place right now, we’d be getting interviewed until next week,” Melissa grumbles. Your only answer is a hum, attention moving to the annoying task of typing out the name of the movie.

You just did.

Your chest rumbles with silent laughter at her response, only holding her tighter when her phone drops on the table and her nose bumps against your neck. The meandering fingers that twirl loose curls around them are a constant distraction for Melissa, the voices of Copper and Tod not even reaching her ears as she settles into a comfort she’s been longing for for years. Nothing will ever quite match the feeling of your lips pressing to her temple.

—☽—

Melissa Schemmenti is picky. Name a topic, she’s got a steadfast opinion on it. The Seahawks? Wanna-be Eagles. Mashed potatoes? Better when a little lumpy. Sleeping? Her bed is the only place she can feel rested. She’d grown all too used to sleeping in her own bed alone, it feels foreign to wake up with someone beside her.Well, her opinion may have changed on that last one.

Curled under a thin blanket, Melissa wakes slowly as the little rays of sun work their way under the curtains. Attempting to stretch her legs, she tries to turn on her back, but is met with resistance. Her movement makes the arm around her tighten, a head nudging into her shoulder blades. Her fingers run up and down the expanse of your arm, quietly asking for you to loosen up. With newfound freedom, she turns to face you, meeting half open eyes and a dopey grin. Tucking yourself into her, you press a lingering kiss to the junction of her neck, mumbling into warm skin.

“What was that, baby?” Melissa rasps out.

“Phone went off,” you grumble a little louder, shuffling closer to her.

Blindly, the redhead reaches around for her phone. Huffing, she forces her eyes open enough to catch face unlock, but they immediately bulge out of her head.

Jacob: hey u coming home tonight?

Jacob: mel mel?

Jacob: barbs said u were fine but can u just answer

Jacob: melissa?

Melissa flies up, your arm dropping limply beside her. A high pitched whine climbs out of your throat as you sit up, leaning against her side with your head on her shoulder. Glancing at her screen, your eyes go as wide as hers.

“If you need to call him, go for it,” you say quietly.

She sighs, “I don’t like lying to him. I’m just…”

“I know,” you reach to hold her hand, “just do whatever feels right for now. We’ll figure everything out later.”

Melissa only gives a nod in response, clearly still in her head. Giving her space, you press a kiss to her shoulder before climbing out of bed. Green eyes follow as you walk out of the room, nearly stumbling into the door as you go. She gives herself another moment to watch you by the coffeemaker before glancing back down at her phone.

Once you’ve taste tested the coffee you made for Melissa, you carefully walk back into your room, trying to not spill a single drop. Glancing up from the mugs, you see that Melissa’s eyes are scrunched, clearly hating the conversation that was happening, but accepting the consequences. Opening one eye and seeing you, she presses a finger to her lips as she puts the call on speaker.

“-ad me worried! You could’ve been dead in a ditch, or worse! I’m happy that you’re happy and having a good time, but you need to be safe! Wait- that sounded weird, I meant physically safe. But that kinda safe too!” Her roommate’s, well warranted, rant continues, leaving you both struggling to breathe from the laughter you try to hide.

Melissa takes a deep breath to compose herself, “Jacob, again, I’m sorry. Wasn’t looking at my phone, but I’ll be better about it.”

“Cross your heart!” The sixth grade teacher was clearly not playing games.

Despite him not being able to see her, Melissa actually draws an X on her chest, “cross my heart.”

Laughing inwardly, you leave Melissa to speak with Jacob as you pad around the room, grabbing your clothes for the day. You feel eyes on you as you move, chest warming under her affection. Peeking over your shoulder as you go down the hall to the bathroom, you send her a wink that makes her grin.

When she finally hangs up with Jacob, Melissa flops back onto the bed, mulling things over in her mind. Telling her friends about you couldn’t be so bad, could it? Starting slow could help, but that means starting at home, and Jacob’s mouth is far too big to keep anything to himself. Telling Barbara will be easy, she already knows about you, just not current events.

She knows that Barbara will love you, that you will love Barbara. Deep down she knows the two of you would be two peas in a pod, and the thought of that alone makes Melissa want to throw caution to the wind. As much as she hates to admit it, acceptance of you from Jacob is something that weighs on her. He’ll probably be obsessed with you, and you don’t even have to say how much you want to meet him, she already knows. It could be so easy.

The spiral in her mind comes to a halt when she hears the bathroom door open. Suddenly feeling full of energy, a giddiness in her bones, she jumps out of bed to find you. Finding you in front of the microwave, reheating your coffee, she wraps her arms around your waist. The light squeeze you receive makes you smile, turning in her grasp to face her, arms encircling her neck.

“Hey, you,” you say, fingers twirling her hair.

“Hey, yourself,” she doesn’t even try to hide the lovesick look on her face, “I’ve got a proposition for ya.”

You snort, “you’re propositioning me?”

“Don’t even,” a hand playfully pinches your side, “it’s a serious question.” The little grin on your face drops, and Melissa can feel your hands freeze where they play with her curls. “Not super serious… just wondering if you’d wanna meet them? Barb, Jacob, maybe the others?

“You want that?” She nods immediately. “Are you sure?” She nods again. “Then, okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

—☽—

How on Earth was she ever nervous about this? Seriously, how?

Janine had invited most of Abbott to her shoebox of an apartment for an end of year party, cleverly inviting Melissa and Barbara over early to get them in a cleaning mood. Everyone else wasn’t supposed to arrive for another half hour, you included. Melissa asked you to come later, hoping that there was less of a chance you’d be grilled if you arrived when the party was more full.

Forty sardines with master’s degrees fill the apartment, and Melissa is still finding little things around the place that need to be dusted and wiped down, but her momentum entirely ends when her phone buzzes in her pocket. Nearly dropping the vase in her hands, she fishes her phone out.

Peluche: i think i’m here

Peluche: the bouncer?? won’t let me in

An amused sigh passes her lips as she swerves through the sea of bodies to get to the front door, seeing Mr. Johnson with his arm barring the door.

“Mr. J, let them in,” Melissa laughs out, patting the man’s shoulder. He turns to look at her with scrutinizing eyes, but lowers his arm to allow space for you.

An arm wraps itself around your waist, immediately pulling you into her space, filling your senses with honey and the distinct smell of foundation on her skin. Guiding you carefully, trying to keep anyone from getting too close to you, she brings you over to where Barbara is fussing over a bookshelf. With a tap on the shoulder, the kindergarten teacher turns to Melissa before brown eyes land on you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone so excited to see you in your entire life, and you don’t even know this woman.

“By the good lord’s graces,” she gasps at her own outburst, thrusting out her hand for you. “I’m sorry dear, it is lovely to meet you. I’m Barbara.”

Shaking her hand, you reply, “lovely to meet you, too. I’m-”

“Oh, I know exac-”

“Barb!” Melissa cuts in, pinching the bridge of her nose. Your hand rubs her arm, trying to keep her from blowing a gasket, even if you’re fighting giggles next to her. Her attention falls back on you, all annoyance fading, “you want a drink?”

You nod, feeling her already beginning to tug you away. Rushing your words, you speak to Barbara, “it was nice meeting you!”

“You too, sweetheart. I’ll see you at brunch next week, I’m sure,” Barbara chuckles warmly. Accepting that this was the closest thing she’ll get to an introduction with Melissa.

Staying behind you with hands on your hips to guide you, Melissa leads you towards the kitchen. Everything feels like it’s underwater, with her hands on you, protective and, dare you say, possessive. For someone who had been nervous for days about you meeting everyone, she sure had no care in the world now. Quietly, next to your ear, you hear her counting down from five. Just as she hits one, a squeal pierces your eardrums.

“Oh my gosh. Oh. My. Gosh!” The voice is immediately recognizable to the one that had been lecturing the redhead over the phone in your bedroom only a few weeks ago. “Hi, hi, I’m Jacob, I work with Melissa at Abbott.”

“Also lecture her, from what I heard,” you joke, making Jacob pause.

Without a chance to blink, Jacob jumps up and down, “so you’re where she’s been lately!” Both you and Melissa wince and the sheer volume of it, but recover quickly when he calms, suddenly quiet and scanning you over, “you better be careful, not for her sake, but yours.”

There’s no malice in his words, it’s a pure warning. From the look on his face, it’s entirely about what he’ll do if she gets hurt, not what Melissa would do to you. From behind you, the redhead’s brows scrunch, mostly out of confusion, ready to tell Jacob off for talking to you like that. She feels guilty, she’s the one who messed everything up before, she deserves the questioning of her worthiness.

You take Jacob’s words in stride, “I’m counting on you to set me straight then, if I ever dare to step out of line.”

Jacob’s entire demeanor goes back to normal at your words, looking at Melissa excitedly, “I like them.”

“Yeah, me too. You ain’t special,” she chuckles, hand on your hip tightening, pulling you imperceptibly closer.

Within an hour, most of the partygoers are on the dancefloor, the two of you included. Cups with rum and whatever chaser Janine had left were teetering on spilling, holding your weight against her is all that keeps you from teetering as well. Sea Barbara stays happily to herself with her cardboard cutout dance partner, content to slow dance to the fast paced music. Singing and cheering around you feels far away as your drunken attention refuses to stray from Melissa, her attention staying on you.

It’s increasingly more difficult to not kiss you when you’re this close, but with warm bodies against her at every side, it’s less than ideal. If it were, it would just be the two of you. She’s so close to just asking if you want to get out of here, but she’s interrupted just as she ducks to speak in your ear.

“Melissa! Barbara! You’re supposed to be cleaning!” Janine yells, hands on her hips. You can feel Melissa groan more than you can hear it, loud music almost deafening you in the small apartment. Barbara tries to shoo the shorter woman away, but her drunk state doesn’t hold the same level of authority that it typically does.

“Janine, it’s a party. We’re partying,” Melissa says dismissively. Not once does her hand leave your waist, keeping you from being jostled by other people.

Her speaking up has Janine’s attention back on her, who quickly recognizes your presence. Brown eyes go from your face, to the hands on you, and back to Melissa’s face. Realization and excitement washes over her face, and the chattering that comes from her is hardly heard or understood from the bass boosts and liquor. Flapping hands keep moving as you try your best to gather her words, but she’s running off excitedly before you can even introduce yourself. You watch Janine bounce towards a lanky man, pointing in your direction, clearly telling him that Melissa brought someone.

Chuckling to yourself, you look back to Melissa, whose eyes are already one you. The universe seems to be both with and against her, because just as she tries to speak, the lights go out and the music stops. Warm hands pull you closer in surprise, and you can’t even be upset about your almost empty cup dropping to the floor. Murmurs around you get louder as everyone sits in equal confusion, but Melissa feels her opportunity.

Feeling lips brush your ear, heat rises to your cheeks, “wanna get out of here?”

“God, yes,” you say, shifting your hand from her arm to her hand, interlocking your fingers. Pulling you with her, she quickly gets to Barbara to let her know you’re both leaving, sneakily passing your phone to text Gerald while she gets her friend some water.

By the end of the night, neither of you could even find the energy to change out of your clothes after walking home. Melissa’s apartment being closer was a blessing, you didn’t even register that this was the first time you’ve been there. Neither did Melissa.

Brushing her teeth next to you in the mirror, pulling back sheets on the other side of the bed, becoming your personal pillow the moment you lay on the mattress. It just felt right.

—☽—

Bobbing your head along to Deftones, you mentally map out the drawing you’re supposed to be starting. The measurements they gave you make no sense, especially with the materials they requested. It’s like they’re asking for the building to concave on itself, not to house people. You’d pressed about giving them a consultation, see the inner workings of the old medical office yourself, but they rejected it ‘for time,’ which really means money. Little do they know they’re going to end up costing themselves more.

The song switches from Shove It to Mascara as knocking raps against your door, but they go completely unnoticed to you. So does the voice trying to get your attention without having to tap your shoulder, knowing it sends ten feet in the air in surprise.

“Boss… Boss… Boss!” Terrence gets no response for the third time before looking to the woman on his left, “you’ll have to go get ‘em, I guess. Lunatic keeps the volume to ear bleeding levels so they don’t have to listen to us, I swear.”

Melissa chuckles, “well, thank you anyways, hon. I got it from here.” Moving into the room, she shuts the door behind her, leaning against it to watch you for just a moment.

What she first notices is your button up, or lack thereof, disregarded on a chair on the other side of the room. Selfishly, she lets herself look you up and down, savoring bare arms and the hard look on your face. Melissa finds herself frozen, mind racing with images of you, subconsciously biting her lip as her eyes rake over you. Only pulled out of her mind by a groan that leaves your lips, she wills herself to get closer to you.

With your back still to her, you’re unable to see her slow movements as she tries to sneak up on you. Hands trail up your sides, clutching slightly when she feels you jump at the sudden touch. Turning in her arms, your bewildered expression dies when you meet green eyes, crinkled around the edges in amusement. Catching your breath, you wrap your arms around her neck.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you say softly, “but this is a pleasant surprise.”

“Missed you. I’ve barely seen you all week,” her arms tighten around your waist.

You press your lips together, trying to hide the giddy feeling in your chest that’s spreading, “I’m sorry, they’ve got me practically chained to the desk until this draft is drawn up. Fuckers think it’s easy turning procedure suites into apartments, it’s not.”

“Not your fault, sweetheart,” her lips press to your cheek as she tugs you in, missing holding you, being held by you. “I have dinner with my family tomorrow night, though, so I won’t be around. Just wanted to get my time in with you before I go into withdrawals.”

You laugh at her words, “Withdrawal? Little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

“Me? Never,” she tries to keep a serious face, but her smile overtakes as she watches you roll your eyes lightheartedly.

A finger twirls a copper strand around, voice weary, “tell everyone I said hi?”

“Well…” Melissa’s face drops a little, knowing she hasn’t told her family that you’re back in her life. Her eyes scan your face, seeing the smallest hint of sadness, and hurries to correct it. “You can tell them yourself, if you want.”

The twirling stops, “you mean that? Because you can’t offer that if you don’t mean it.”

“I mean it, I promise,” her hands sit more firmly on you now, “they miss you, they just never mention it. But they do. Especially John Anthony. And Kristin Marie, but she’ll never admit that, even to herself.”

The only answer she received is a strong kiss pressing to her lip, her eyes immediately fluttering shut at the contact. The hand in her hair tightens as your entire body pushes into her, groaning at the feeling of her on you mixing with the emotions of it all. How easily she asked you to come with her, to see her family, to be by her side for real this time. It feels too early to say what you want to at this moment, so you just kiss her harder.

Melissa spent half the day and the entire drive to the house telling you that no, her parents don’t hate you, and that yes, they will be incredibly excited to see you again. She kept the knowledge of your attendance secret, not wanting to be slammed with questions, but mostly because she wanted to see the look on her mother’s face when she saw her favorite not-her-child from all those years ago.

“Are you sure you want me to go? I don’t want to if you only offered because you felt like you had to. If I’m impos-”

“You’re not imposing,” she almost whispers as she cradles your face, “I want you there. It hasn’t felt the same since you stopped coming.”

Pressing kissing to your knuckles every now and then, Melissa manages to take some of the anxiety off your shoulders. Turning onto the familiar street, you immediately sit up straighter in your seat, checking your outfit and fiddling with everything, desperate to pick off lint that isn’t even there. Melissa lets it go, knowing there’s no stopping this. Part of her feels guilty, knowing she’s the reason that you felt they could hate you, that they wouldn’t be happy to see you. All she ever told them was you had a mutual falling out, never that it was her fault, especially not that it was yours.

Pulling up in front of the house, Melissa’s fingers tighten around yours. Looking up at her, you see the silent question in her eyes, giving her a nod that tells her you’re fine. To prove yourself, you hop out of the car to jog to her side, opening the door for her with a grin. Shaking her head with a half-hidden smile on her lips, she takes your offered hand and pulls you into her, walking with you to the door.

No knocking required, Melissa steps in first, only letting go of your hand for a brief moment to shrug off your jackets before her hand is back in yours. Chattering in the kitchen leads you to where everyone stands or sits, sipping on beers and white wine. Clearing her throat, Melissa gets the attention of the room. Silence fills the previously loud air.

“Yooooo!” You hear someone yell, a voice that you recognize all too well. Without a moment’s notice, you’re immediately tackled, hand being ripped from Melissa’s. You hug the person back, still trying to figure out exactly who it is, but the exaggerated leaning side-to-side gives you everything. Little John Anthony isn’t so little anymore, not that he ever really was.

Feeling another body against you, one arm reaches behind to give some level of contact as acknowledgement. Slowly people let go of you while others come in, and all you can feel is glad that everything is so busy, no one will see the happy tears forming in your eyes. Annette’s noodle arms let go of you, moving as she feels a tap on her back. When she moves, Melissa’s mother stands before you.

“Finally,” she says, cradling your face in her soft hands, “I knew you’d be back.” Patting your cheek, she finally moves out of the way for others to get a hold of you. Melissa can barely see you most of the night, but the warmth in her chest grows every time she sees you talking with someone new, hugging someone else as you talk. Kristin Marie hides her excitement well, but not well enough, though you let her get away with hugging you tightly without saying anything about it.

By dinner time, everyone’s been reacquainted with your presence, and Melissa can finally get her hands on you again. Scooching her chair closer, she mumbles in your ear while the conversation carries around the table.

“Told you, nothing to worry about,” her hand squeezes your thigh reassuringly.

“I missed them,” you say, running your fingers up and down her arm, “I missed this.”

Family dinner ends the way it always does, with everyone talking in the living room, sipping coffee or the remainder of their drinks. You take your place next to Melissa on the couch, leaning your head on her shoulder as she talks to Toni about something you can’t remember. You haven’t felt this at peace in so long, you missed your family. Annette and Vinny fighting, music playing from the TV, chattering around you in a mix of Italian and English, it’s comforting.

Looking up from your perch on her shoulder, you keep your eyes on Melissa. Watching her hands move as she speaks, how happy she looks, how beautiful she is. Turning slightly to put her glass on the table, she catches your gaze, the corners of her lips going up as she catches the lovesick look on your face. Fully knowing she’s being watched, fully feeling the warmth in her cheeks, she leans in to press a soft kiss to your lips. Careful to not linger long, she pulls away and goes back to her conversation with her sister.

No more hiding.

—☽—

“Am I buying groceries for two people or three this week?” You ask as you walk into the kitchen, fidgeting with the pen in your hand,

“Mmm… Jacob mentioned maybe stopping by tomorrow night, so probably three,” Melissa answers, looking through the pantry, “and we need potatoes, I forgot to write that down.”

“Red ones?” You joke, coming up behind her to press your lips to the junction of her neck. Leaning her head back onto your shoulder, she lets you continue your path up her neck to her jaw, nipping at her ear. “I gotta get going before they close,” Melissa whines at the loss of contact, “I’ll be quick, might not even pay.”

She chuckles warmly, scrunching her nose, “right, sure you won’t, goodie-two-shoes.”

Pulling away, you jot down russets and give her another kiss, this one to her lips. “I love you,” you mumble as you part, “see you in a bit.”

The moment the front door shuts, the once cozy and nonchalant Melissa is replaced by a frenzied and excited one. Flying around the house, she begins to put her plan in place. Tealights are placed everywhere, the lighter checked for fuel, the small box from under her socks now buried in her pocket, she just had to open the bottle of Angel’s Envy. It took an embarrassing number of different liquor stores to find, but that was months ago, and this is now.

Melissa lights the last candle just as she hears your car door slam shut, then the trunk. Staying out of direct view, she watches you come in the door, looking at your feet as you walk. You’re in your own little world, completely walking through to the kitchen, dropping the bags off. Making your way into the living room, you almost drop the bouquet in your hands.

Candles all around the room, music playing softly from the record player, Melissa wearing your sweater. Your jaw drops, eyes wide as you stare at the redhead, utterly bewildered. She takes the chance to step a little closer, watery smile stretching across her face as you shakily hold out red chrysanthemums. Taking them carefully, she sets them on the table, grabbing your hand to pull you with her. Soft eyes watch her every movement, letting her move you around until you’re where she wants you.

“I love you,” Melissa says quietly, shifting from the couch to the floor, “I’ve loved you since the day I met you, and I haven’t stopped once. Even when I didn’t know, I loved you. When I wouldn’t listen to my own brain, I loved you. When I thought I couldn’t, I loved you.”

“Mel…” Your voice comes out cracked, a wobbly lip stuck between smiling and sobbing.

“Let me finish, baby,” she says softly, stroking the hand she holds in her own, “you are everything to me, and it took me too long to figure that out. But now, I’m not taking a single thing for granted, not you, never you.” Melissa reaches into her back pocket, pulling out a small, emerald box, “I wish I could’ve had you my whole life, but all I can ask you for is the rest of it.”

Tears spill down your cheeks at her words, fingers clinging to her hand like a life source. You so badly want to reach out, cup her face, and kiss her, her words playing the strings of your heart, but you refrain. Too much restraint goes into not pouncing on her the second she pulled out the ring box, your lips practically begging to be on hers already. You can’t help the frown on your face when Melissa’s hand leaves you, properly holding the ring to present it to you.

“Will you marry me?” The smile on her lips only grows as she asks, knowing what you’ll say just based on the look you give her.

What she doesn’t account for was that all your restraint would break, and she’s knocked to the floor as you pepper her face with kisses, lips smacking against her skin. Moving from her forehead, to her cheeks, and finally, to her lips. All love, all want, all devotion, all you.

“Yes, yes,” you answer quickly, lips barely parting from hers, “God, I love you. I love you so much.”

Chuckling at your overexcited babbling, she manages to sit you both up, keeping you in her lap. A warm hand pulls your left hand from her face, sliding the ring on without taking her eyes off of you. Your hand immediately goes back to her face, pulling her into your kiss once more.

Morning back pain be damned, neither of you leave the floor of the living room the rest of the night. Waking up with your heart beating under her ear is all the consolation she needs, your newly ringed hand in hers.

At the next family dinner, all the cousins take one peek at your hand, eyes widening. Melissa and you both brace for shouting and to be lifted in the air by one of her brothers, but you were wrong. Maria Christina groans as she passes a twenty over to Seamus, who was getting handed money by at least four other people. He peeks up to see a very shocked you and Melissa.

“What? We all saw it coming, I just picked the right week. Ma said tomorrow.”

note: time for sol’s monthly novel <3 hope you enjoyed

feedback appreciated as always

[thus-spoke-lo]

Dear Diary || Sanji x f!reader || NSFW [minors DNI]

CW: afab!reader (no pronouns used to describe reader), reader wears a skirt, masturbation (m), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, creampie

WC: 3.6k

Read on AO3

It was an accident. 

Or at the very least, that’s the story Sanji had hastily prepared as he sat perched on the edge of your bed, your diary held tightly in his grasp. 

It was an accident, he’d say if anyone wandered in while he perused its pages—it had fallen on the floor and he was merely trying to find out who it belonged to, that’s why it was splayed open in his hand. Really, you see, it was completely innocent. 

But Sanji already knew it was yours, having seen you with it on the deck, ardently scribbling away day after day. He could never quite get close enough or squint hard enough to see exactly what you were writing, but you certainly seemed alarmed when you’d catch him meandering by, quickly shutting the little blue book and squirreling it away in your knapsack before he could ever get near. 

And now here it was in his perspiration-slick hands. He wondered what he’d find, if it was even worth it to sneak into your room, carefully closing the door behind him, just to get a glimpse at the thoughts that pirouetted through your gorgeous mind. 

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before cracking open the little blue book, quickly looking over the pages for any mention of him: A recipe for medical ointment and a quick story about helping Chopper with a project. A sloppily-drawn chart and notes about a conversation with Nami. Musings on something Luffy said at dinner. 

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” he muttered as he flipped through more pages, seeing line after line of casual observations and droll anecdotes. He was, of course, deeply and truly interested in your reflections on life with the crew, and would delightedly read just about anything you had written with your precious hands, but he didn’t have the time to peruse every paragraph. He was unsure of precisely when you’d be back with the rest of the crew, and his only goal was to find even the smallest talk of him in your handwriting—it would be enough just to see his name scrawled in these pages, enough to see that you even deigned to give him any mention at all. 

He scanned page after page until finally—there it was. His name, in your writing. 

He paused before he continued, taking in a shaky breath, wondering if he should read on, fearing the worst but his heart yearning for the best. 

Sanji, you’d written, Sanji, Sanji, Sanji. Sat in the galley to watch him cook today. He didn’t seem to mind me there, and he was humming some song I didn’t know. He let me taste the soup he was making, and told me I was perfect because of my “refined palate.” What a man, haha. 

He grinned as he continued to read: 

I'm glad he doesn’t mind me hanging around him, I could watch him for hours. His hands are so elegant.

I know it’s terrible, but sometimes I wonder what those hands would feel like on me.

Sanji stopped, using his thumb to hold his place as he set the diary down in his lap, his heart thrumming in his chest. He shouldn’t keep reading, he tried to tell himself—he got what he wanted, confirmation that he at least occasionally swirled around in your mind like a ship caught in a whirlpool, and that should be the end of it.

Right?

“Okay. Just a little more,” he uttered as he opened the book again, his eyes drifting back to where he’d left off. “A little more won’t hurt.”

God I bet his hands are so soft. I bet they’d feel so nice on my skin. Running down my arms. Tickling my neck. He’d know just how to hold me, touch me carefully, so he doesn’t hurt me, just make me feel good.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath as he flipped the page to the next entry. More about him.

Sanji made me tea today and brought it to me in my room. Ugh, he’s so fucking handsome. Hard not to tell him to set the tea down and give me something else hot. I bet he would, too. I bet all I’d have to do is ask and he’d have me bent over my bed, moaning his name. 

He slid his hand down to the front of his pants, palming the growing hardness that strained against the fabric. God he wanted you, and there was a painful desire roiling inside him knowing you wanted him too. And you were right, he thought as he throbbed under his hand—all it would take is one look, one pout, one soft “Please, Sanji?” and he would have you undressed in a heartbeat, writhing under him as he filled you to the hilt with every throbbing inch of him.

His hands, his hands, I’m telling you. I want him to finger me so bad. Maybe under the table while we’re having dinner. Just slide his hand up my skirt, push my panties to the side, start teasing my clit. Maybe he’d whisper in my ear that I’d need to keep quiet so no one would know. I’d just have to wriggle in my seat while he uses his fingers to tease me, and grip his leg to keep myself from screaming. 

“This is wrong,” he whispered, the words hitching in his throat. “This is so wrong.”

It was as if you could read his mind, he thought as he closed his eyes for a moment, grinding into his palm. How many times had he thought about placing a hand on your leg as you sat next to him at dinner, running his fingers up and up and up your velvety skin to the apex of your thighs, placing his palm against your heated cunt. He wanted to tease you through your panties, press his fingers against your clit through the silken fabric, making soft circles over it until you started to squirm in your chair and quietly beg him to stop. But begging, no matter how sweet and polite, would do you no good; no, if you loved his hands so much, then he was going to make you come on them. You’d have to sit there and be good and still and smile and laugh like nothing was wrong while he shoved his long fingers inside of you and pumped them in and out until you clenched and fluttered around them, leaving him a drenched and slippery mess. He wondered how flustered you’d become as he dragged his soaked fingers out of you and across your bare thigh, wondered if you’d look at him with your exquisite eyes, blinking away the tears of pleasure forming at your lash line, as you tried to keep yourself from falling apart in front of everyone.

He paused for a moment, listening closely for any commotion on the ship; there was only the sound of blood rushing in his ears. He quickly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, freeing his hardening cock and sighing as he felt the cool air of your room on his burning hot skin. He gripped himself gently, delicately—like he imagined you might with your soft, perfect hands—as he continued to read. 

I just need him. I need his cock in me. I’m sure he’d fuck me, but really want him to want to fuck me, you know? Not just because I’m another pretty face. I want him to want to fuck me, to need to fuck me. 

Sanji groaned as he read, his hand slowly working up and down his shaft, using his thumb to gather the sticky precum dripping from the head as he did, pretending it was your luscious slick coating the length of him. Oh and how he did want to fuck you, and he did need to fuck you. Not because you were just any lovely thing with a gorgeous face—he wanted you, every last bit of you. He wanted to taste the salt of your skin, and inhale your intoxicating scent, and feel every part of you crash into him like waves; he wanted to consume you, to have every part of you to himself, to wrap himself around you and bury himself inside of you until you were practically one.

I want him to shove his cock in me, and tell me what a perfect little slut I am for him and only him. I want him to kiss my neck while he’s thrusting into me, long and slow strokes, and tell me how beautiful I am with his cock deep inside me. I want him to lose control of himself and feel him slam into me nice and hard, and hear how he moans when he finally fills me up wi—

“Sanji!”

He quickly slammed the diary shut and threw his hands over his lap, trying to cover the glaring evidence of his arousal; he glanced up to see you standing in the doorway, mouth agape, eyebrows raised to the heavens. 

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” you asked, eyes wide, your eyes drifting down to his lap. 

“Oh, I was—well you see—so here’s the thing my dear—” Sanji stammered and stuttered, his perfectly crafted excuse slowly unraveling in his mind like an old sweater as you placed your hands on your hips—your luscious, grabbable hips, perfectly draped in a black skirt—and dragged your teeth across your lower lip impatiently. How is it that you could look so deeply and fiercely irresistible even when you clearly wanted to throttle him? How is it that his cock still throbbed even when you were probably ten seconds away from killing him where he sat?

You quickly closed the gap between you and stood before him and the end of the bed. 

“Give me that,” you spat as you snatched your diary out of his hand. “What were you doing with this?”

“My darling, please, I only wanted to—well I just—”

“You just what?”

He tried to find an answer for you, one that might make him appear even the least bit less debased and depraved than he must have seemed to you just then, but he was coming up woefully short.

“I just wanted to know,” he finally sputtered after a beat. 

“And what did you want to know, Sanji?” you asked, drawing out his name teasingly. 

He shifted, trying ever more desperately to hide his unyielding hardness from your gaze. “I just wanted to know if you ever thought about me.”

“How so?” you smirked. 

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, the words sticking together in his throat as he tried to say them. “I wanted to know if you ever thought about me and you. Together.”

“Together?”

“My sweet, please don’t make me say it.”

“Aw come on,” you pouted. “Please?”

“I wanted to know if you ever thought about fucking me!” he exclaimed, his eyes clenched shut as the words burst forth from his lips. “There. Are you happy?”

“Oh Sanji,” you sighed, tilting your head to one side. You leaned forward and placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back onto the bed. He let his hands drift away from his pulsating cock, and you gasped a little at the sight of it, the head swollen and glistening with his arousal. You smiled and bit your lip as you straddled him, carefully placing your soft thighs on either side of his, too needy to bother even asking him to disrobe; Sanji felt his heart nearly crawl into his throat as he could feel the radiating warmth of your cunt, covered only in thin cotton panties, come to rest against his twitching cock. 

He choked out a gasp as you slowly started to grind against him, and he could feel the outline of your pussy lips through the soft fabric that barely covered them. You lowered your body onto him, your face hovering close to his, and moaned softly in his ear as you urgently pressed yourself into his lap; the sound you made, so melodic, so filled with yearning, made Sanji buck his hips up into you almost on instinct. He reached up and sunk his fingers into your plush hips, guiding your motions up and down his length, as he felt the precum that leaked out of his pulsing head start to coat your inner thigh. 

“Sanji, Sanji, Sanji,” you murmured, your lips so close to his he could almost taste your lusciousness. “If you wanted to know all the things I think about you—all the filthy, dirty things I think about when I lay in bed at night—why didn’t you just ask?”

Before he could answer, before words could even take form inside the lust-filled fog in his mind, your lips were engulfing his in a warm, honeyed kiss. He moaned into your mouth and parted your lips with his tongue, hungry and wanting to taste every bit of your deliciousness; it was better than he’d ever imagined, better than he could have dreamed, to have your pillowy lips against his, your tongues dancing. As he fed from the sweetness of your mouth, you reached down and pulled your panties to the side. You grasped his cock and dragged the head along the slickness of your pussy lips, as he groaned your name into the stillness of the room.

“Do you want me, Sanji?” you asked as you slid him past your lips, letting him feel your entrance pulse against his agonizingly sensitive tip, keeping the warmth of your wet walls just out of reach until he told you what you so badly need to hear.

“Yes, god yes, my sweet,” he answered frantically, his fingers grasping at your hips, trying to pull you down onto him, as he buried his face on your neck, his tongue tracing lines up and down your skin, his lips trying to kiss every inch of you that he could reach.

“How bad?” you continued, as you squeezed his cock, feeling it swell in your palm.

“I want you so much,” he whimpered, as his hips thrusted weakly upwards into your hand, so agonizingly close to being inside of you that he could practically feel your warmth surrounding his aching cock.  “I want all of you, every last beautiful bit of you. Now won’t you let me feel you, please?”

“Lay back,” you whispered, a drowsy smile on your lips, as you ran your fingertips down the sharp lines of his jaw. He reclined back onto the bed, and watched your eyes flutter shut and your mouth go slack as you lowered yourself onto him, and took his length into your waiting cunt.

Sanji gasped deliriously at the feeling, and the sounds of his bliss echoed in the room. You were better than he ever could have thought you’d be, better than he’d ever fantasized at night when he’d fuck his fist and wish so desperately it was you. Your velvet-soft pussy gripped him as you gyrated in soft, slow circles, and he slowly thrust up into you, matching your motions. He felt a deliriousness wash over him as he listened to you sigh his name over and over again, like a song he wanted to listen to forever, and he relished the weight of your body pressing into him as you placed your hands on his chest and took your pleasure from him.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he marveled, as his hands drifted upwards from your hips, exploring the expanse of your form.

“What, with your cock inside me?” you smiled.

“Exactly,” he grinned, his fingers tracing over every dip and curve of your body.

He reached under your shirt and caressed the contours of your breasts, gently kneading them in his palms. He brushed a thumb over your hardened nipple, and felt your pussy flutter around him as you whimpered in the most delectable way.

“Sanji,” you whispered as you rode him, your voice soft and wanting, “will you touch me? Make me come?”

“Yes, my darling,” he panted, running a hand down your body and slowly sliding it down your thigh. “Anything you want, anything you need.”

He pulled the dampened fabric of your panties to the side, spreading your puffy lips apart with his fingers, and found your swollen, tender clit with little effort. He tentatively pressed against it with the pad of his thumb and a needy moan escaped you; he made gentle circles over it, trying to match the speed of your gyrations.

“Like this, my dear?” he asked, his gaze fixed on you, watching every glorious expression you made as he set your core ablaze with his touch.

“Yes,” you answered through ragged gasps, “just like that. Just like that.”

“Good,” he panted as your breaths quickened and your motions began to slow as you focused on his ministrations. “That’s it, sweetheart, take what you need from me.”

He felt himself harder than he’d ever been, aching so much inside of you, as he started to feel you flutter around him.

“Sanji, I’m so close,” you keened. “Just don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“Never, my dearest,” he said, desperate. “Not until you come for me.”

“Oh Sanji,” you cried, your eyes clenching shut, “Sanji I’m gonna—”

Your words were cut short by a sharp cry as you clenched tightly around him, your walls spasming as you cried out for him, your shaking thighs pressed tightly to his and your hands gripping frantically at his shirt. He was stricken wordless by the splendor of seeing you abandon yourself to pleasure, watching you convulse unabashedly and utter some of the most exquisite moans he had ever heard.

“Why don’t you let me do the rest of the work, gorgeous?” he uttered softly, as you doubled over and rested your head on his chest, your breaths emerging in stutters and gasps.

You nodded, only able to muster a weak “Mm-hmm,” and he gathered you up and helped you lay back onto the bed. He stood up, quickly undressing, overcome with an insatiable need to bury himself inside you again as quickly as possible. As he lowered his trousers, he noticed the fly and waistband of them were drenched, your juices coating the stiff fabric; he felt his heart skip a beat at knowing he made you do that, that he made you come apart for him and soak his clothes in your wetness.

He stood at the end of the bed as he stripped his shirt off, and took in the sight before him: your body splayed across the bed, panties discarded to the side. Your shirt pulled up over your breasts and your skirt still clinging to your figure, pushed up over your hips. Your legs spread apart and your pussy exposed with your swollen, sensitive lips coated in your glistening slick.

“Are you read for more, my darling?” he asked, barely waiting for your whispered answer before plunging himself inside you, feeling your copious slick coating his length as your walls quivered around him, aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through you.

Sanji had wanted to take his time—wanted to make passionate love to you like someone as magnificent as you deserved, not just fuck you—but the way you clenched around him, the way you sighed so dreamily and so beautifully for him and only him—it was all but impossible to hold back.

He felt your legs wrapping around his muscled back, pulling him into you, as he thrust, driving him deeper into you.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his lips against your ear, “so beautiful. This is heaven.”

You moved together simultaneously, your hips lifting upward to his thrusting body, and you whimpered as his cock pulsed inside your needy cunt. You rocked against each other, bodies arching and colliding in perfect rhythm, his lithe frame almost elegantly hypnotic in his motions. He gazed down at you with adoration, watching your lips part to gasp with every stroke, and he found himself edging ever closer to his own release.

“Sanji,” you asked, your eyes glazed over and half-lidded, lips barely parted. “Will you cum in me?”

“Yeah? Want me to fill up that pretty pussy, baby?”

“Please, Sanji?”

“Anything for you,” he sighed. The sweetness of your voice, the way you said his name, was like a drug; it was all he needed, all he ever wanted to hear.

His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more erratic and frenzied, the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him becoming more and more euphoric with every stroke. At last, he groaned your name in blissful agony as his hips stuttered and he spilled himself into you, your greedy cunt pulling spasm after spasm from him, until he collapsed on top of you in exhausted bliss, your mingled juices slowly dripping out of you.

“Oh my darling, that was amazing,” he said through staccato breaths, his face buried in your neck, as he tried to regain his composure. “I don’t know how you’re even more perfect than in my dreams, but you are.”

“Was it everything you hoped for?” you asked, smiling as you ran your fingers through his damp mess of blonde hair.

“My sweet, you were spectacular,” he sighed, as he stroked your cheek gently with the pad of his thumb and planted a tender kiss on your forehead.

“Oh Sanji, you were incredible,” you grinned, tracing your fingers along the sinewy contours of his upper arms, before adding in a teasing whisper: “Can’t wait to tell my diary all about it.”

[sanspuppet]

my ultimate group is Ateez, so if it isn’t requested for others i’ll write generally about them

i also stan: stray kids, enhypen, svt, txt, p1h, bts, and boynextdoor (i obviously won’t write about the minor line of the members)

quick self introduction: 19 y/o, ♐️, names Valentine, i’m from Italy, ambivert, i love art music and foreign languages, hobbies are drawing, dancing and playing the bass

i really like supporting people and being kind to anyone who’s towards me, i also love talking and interacting so don’t be shy with me :3

Let’s stop talking about me! Here’s more about my blog

no violence (use of knives, guns and blood…)

the idol must be an adult

no hybrids

no they/ them pronouns for the reader (not because i don’t support LGBTQA+ but bcuz i’m not used to using those so i would probably mess up a lot, i’m saurry :( i think that many writers out there could do better than me)

- HONGJOONG: "Dominance practice" “Hongjoong as your perv boyfriend” “angry subbie”

- SEONGHWA: "Say my name" "More and more of that" “dom, dirty talk” “guided masturbation” “smut blurb”

- YUNHO: "Pretty little slut princess" "Yunho, who would..." "Dream Boss" “Big d!ick yunho” “What he would say during sex” “strangers to lovers” “gamer yunho”

- YEOSANG: "So in love" "sex tape" “Hard dom drabble”

- SAN: "Late night call" "short pov cuz im bored" "angst, rough sex" "tasty meal" "San as your boyfriend" "workout" “my horny thought” “dom husband” “him sending you a sexy pic” “daddy and breeding kink” “giving him a massage” “morning sex” “y/n getting horny from reading a book” “San fucking you in his arms” “take it like a good girl”

- MINGI: "Like a chair" "Mingi as your boyfriend" "Voice of temptation" "Burning tease" “dirty talk” “practice room” “almost getting caught by yunho” “professor mingi”

- WOOYOUNG: "Bad behavior" "short pov cuz he's too hot" "Fill her up good" "is this thing on?" “her good boy”

- JONGHO: "Addiction"

- OT8: "would you rather" "Ateez when you fuck them for the first time- hyung line - maknae line” “ateez type in bed” “reaction to your risky profile pic” “face sitting w ateez” “public sec with ateez” “cockwarming with ateez” “orgy in the practice room”

- UNITS: “4some with demon line” “3some with Matz” “3some with Seonghwa and Yeosang” “3some with Yungi” “morning 3some with Yungi”

- Masterlist: Smut prompts

[vitamin-cunt]

hiii im a new follower and can i request a dabi x fem!domme!reader

format is full fic but if you want can you also add some headcanons at the end

kinks to add

•sadisim (reader

•masochism (dabi)

•dumbification

•frotteurism (ok idk if you make your fics automatically match with your blog theme [hospital for horny mfs like me] but can you make it so that dabi is a paitient of a hospital for sub people and reader is his most favorite doctor so theres alot of intimacy)

•master and pet themes (reader makes dabi wear a collar, very very short maid dress with frilly black lingerie, cat ears and a cat tail butt plug)

and can you make it so that the reader has a genital type quirk were reader can give people the genitals of the opposite gender and do it to herself without removing their original genital (ex. reader gives dabi a vagina and clit while still having a dick)

A/N: anon I'm in love with you. I'm on one knee rn, you have no idea (Tired asf gonna go proofread this in the morning)

CW: As stated in the ask above, GN! Pronouns, cock mentioned (can be interpreted as a strap tho), Dabi has a pussy at some point (idc, idc there's the door), fingering said pussy

Making a broken man of Dabi

What the fuck was he doing here?

Like, seriously, why the fuck was he here???

It was a strange situation, really. A hospital for incredibly lewd individuals to seek treatment-

And he of all people was here?

He didn't have lewd desires, just-

Well, fuck, he couldn't have normal sex but that didn't require an intervention or whatever this was.

He ran his tongue over his teeth as he rolled over in his hospital bed. Even the uniform was weird-

He was in a maid outfit. A black, short-ass maid dress.

"Awww, look at him blush~ Let me have him, I think we're gonna like each other."

His face burned furiosuly at the memory. When he was first admitted, he'd been uncooperative with pretty much everyone. The "doctors,"(if that's what you could even call them), the nurses, even other patients, because he wasn't like them, dammit!

He wasn't some sex-obsessed lunatic that fucked any hole in sight, he just-

He liked certain things. A lot more than most people did, but that was fine. At least he thought it was fine.

He'd scared off all but one of the staff.

You.

He couldn't make you disappear and, for whatever reason, he'd come to appreciate your presence.

You treated him more human than anyone did in this God-forsaken hell-hole. You checked on him, catered to his needs, listened to his moans and groans about this place...

He swallowed down the excitement as he realized you would be coming in today.

The one thing that set you apart from the staff was that you knew what buttons to press with him.

"I think this thong will look so cute on you~"

"You did such a good job touching yourself for me!"

"Be a good boy and lift your ass up just a little higher for me."

It was like you could read his mind.

Yeah, that was Dabi's "problem." He liked being a toy.

Your toy.

He'd always known he had a thing for being treated like shit, but he tried to keep it on the down-low.

Too bad Daddy dearest found out.

A knock came at his door, and before he could even sit up, you were entering the room, an oddly wide grin on your face.

"How's my favorite patient?"

He narrows his eyes and rolls over in his bed to face you and the door. In your hands was a duffel bag of god knows what. "You're only this happy when you have shit to try on me," he says, eyeing the bag and trying to guess what was making those bulges from every angle in it.

You laugh and ignore him despite his bite of a response. "God, Dabi, what did I tell you about keeping these blinds open?" You walk over to his window blinds and sharply close them shut, leaving the room in the eerie purple glow of the lights above. "How are you going to masturbate with any privacy in this place?"

"What, you want me in the dark all the fucking time?" He hoists himself up on one elbow and follows you as you unpack your supplies. "Yeah, the one thing that gets me hard is a dank-ass hospital room."

"Mmm, just that? Not your favorite doctor?" You fake a pout, hand halfway in the duffel. "Even after I stretched that ass last night? Even after I played with those tits?"

He throws his head back, outwardly in exasperation and inwardly with a humming arousal in his chest. Even his low sigh could be confused for an excited groan.

And one wouldn't be wrong in thinking that.

"Why do you always..." he covers his hot face, trying to put into words what he wanted to say without sounding absolutely pathetic.

But, how could one get any more pathetic laying in a maid outfit in a rehabilitation hospital for the most debauched and depraved sex-addicts?

He swallowed and began again. "You're always describing my body like...like...you know I don't have those parts, right?"

After a moment of silence, he peeks between his hand to find you smiling down at the cat ears and cat butt-plug in your hands.

Your favorites.

When you look up, its with a craze in your eyes. And why should he be surprised?

Only the most depraved could work here.

"You're saying it would make more sense to use those words if you had those..."parts?" You tilt your head innocently. Well, as innocently as someone could with a bottle of lube in their hands now accompanying the lewd accessories.

"I guess," he muttered, his hand sliding down to his jaw and muffle his voice.

He was glad you couldn't see his cock twitching to life beneath his skirt. He loved that face. The look in your eyes right before you fuck him dumb.

"Can I show you a trick?" you ask, approaching his bed and laying your "materials" next to him. "You know the position, get in it, baby," you command, before he can answer your first question.

It always takes some time to follow your first order, but he always does it. Even now, with his head buried in his folded arms and his ass in the air, exposing his thong.

"Happy?" he bites, even through the muffle of his pillow.

He hears you donning your gloves and next came the sound of lube squirting from a bottle.

"We'll tell the insurance this was a prostate exam."

A cold finger pushes itself against the entrance of his hole and then inside him, sliding in easily.

He groans in arousal and discomfort. He guessed it wasn't entirely an entirely normal thing to prefer the feeling of surgical gloves to human fingers, but why give this hospital further justification to keep him here?

"Don't rock, baby, I've told you this before."

Right. He was already fucking himself back against your fingers despite only one being inside.

Your other gloved hand rubs his ass, lifting up the skirt to see the skin beneath it.

"You're still a little red from yesterday, so I'm not gonna spank you today."

He simply nods, hypnotized when you slip in a second finger. And then a third, and, fuck, even a fourth.

This couldn't even count as prepping when you were hitting his g-spot so earnestly that you had him moaning into his pillow. But he had, notably, reduced his writhing because, dammit, you made him want to be obedient.

And just like that, you'd slipped your fingers out, leaving him feeling empty.

"Fuck, if you're gonna prep, then fucking prep, don't..." he swallows as he realized he'd crossed a line.

Never back talk.

"I-I just mean...because it's like you're teasing..." he stutters out weak follow-up after weak follow-up, trying to backtrack from his outburst.

But, to his shock, you don't get angry at him. You laugh, in fact. Soon, something metal was pressing against him and after a moment, the metal plug end of the cattail slips inside him and slotted itself perfectly as he'd grown accustomed to.

Even then he arches his back and pants.

What were you playing at?

Any other day you would have punished him to senseless tears for the way he talked to you, but now?

He's pulled from his pondering when you adorn him with the cat ears.

"On your back, Kitty," you say, walking away to change your gloves. He obeys, wondering if you were going to come back with a cock ring like you'd had last night.

But, besides the fresh pair of gloves, you'd come back empty-handed.

He was really concerned now, especially as you mounted the bed with a grin that left his thighs trembling and his mind buzzing.

"Fuck's going on?" He growled, testing his luck with his mouthiness.

You don't answer, instead choosing to lean forward and press your lips to his. He'd kissed you before, but this...

Why was he suddenly hot? Like, burning, he...he hadn't activated his quirk, had he?

Suddenly, a buzzing emerged from between his legs. Then, a dampness in his thong. Finally, a sudden wave of inexplicable pleasure.

"Wh-what the fuck!? Why do I- mmmmh, it's not supposed to feel wet down there, what did you- ahhh- what did you do???"

He squirmed beneath you, the hospital bed creaking loudly as it usually did during your encounters. His face burned as a new warmth overtook his loins, one that he'd never felt before.

He rubbed his thighs together, trying to rid himself of the incessant ache, but you place your knees between them before he can really do anything.

"Why're you so freaked out?" You say above him, removing your scrub top. "It's just sex therapy!"

"Bullshit." His eyes scan your bare chest and abdomen, having seen it for the first time ever, really.

You laugh lightly through your nose. "Okay...Just sit still while your master plays with your little pussy, okay?"

"I told you, it's weird when- ah- haaah~ fuck!" His eyes went wide as your fingers slipped past his thong and inside him.

But not his ass.

All he heard was the slick squelch of your fingers penetrating him, and before he knew it, he was arched against his bed, gasping and reaching for the thin, cheap sheets above him.

He couldn't stop the moans, the uncharacteristic whines, the sounds coming from his- his-

"Your pussy's dripping for me, baby~" you laugh.

You gave him a pussy. What was worse was that you gave him a pussy and he liked it.

He could feel you scissoring in his walls, just like you did in his ass but it was different, this wasn't the same, it would never be the same-

He covered his face, you couldn't see him like this. Fine, make him wear the tail and the ears, keep him in the outfit, watch him roll his hips against your hand as you fold your fingers inside him-

But he'd be damned if he let you see the blissed tears running down his burning cheeks.

"Are you gonna cum, already?" You tease, noting his tells. His moans turning to breathless pants and a repeat of soft "uhn, uhn, uhn", his thighs trembling, his covering his face. "I didn't even get my dick inside you yet!"

You inside him? When he could feel every movement of your fingers, the aching of his- his clit-

He couldn't take it, even the idea of being filled-

"Not yet, Kitty." You removed your fingers from inside him, once again rendering him empty.

But it wasn't the same, this time, this time he felt as though he could cry. The tears fell faster now, he couldn't even hide them.

What were you doing to him?

He was crying because you wouldn't keep fingering his pussy!?

Furthermore, he was rejoicing when you'd slipped a bit of your cock inside him, his pussy clenching around nothing but air and your tip.

This is crazy, this is insane-

"Ohhh shitttt, ohhh shittt~ yes, fill me up, fill me up!"

He sounded insane-

"I know it's against protocol to directly penetrate your patients, but for you?" You whisper as you lean down and it let him get adjusted. "I couldn't let anyone else be the first person to use this pussy~"

You quickly grow impatient of letting him adjust and it shows because soon, light rocking turns to full-on thrusts in and out of him, fuck the slapping noise it made, fuck the squelching noise it made, fuck how loud he got-

Fuck, he was so loud-

He doesn't know what to do with himself but sit back and take it. Take getting pounded mercilessly like a little bitch.

"Seems like after tonight, you'll fit in with the other patients, hm?" You grab his jaw and turn his dissenting face back in your direction. "Think I trained my Kitty well, don't you?"

He could barely understand you, not with you grabbing the tops of his thighs and pulling his hips down into yours as you slam up into him.

"Tell me you deserve to be here, baby. Tell me you're just a depraved sex slut like the rest of the patients."

He wanted to reply, he really wanted to, but how could he when his tongue was sticking out of his mouth and his eyes were stuck in the back of his head?

"C'mon, baby, I know you can do it. Tell me you're no different, c'mon, let me hear it, baby."

"Haaaah, I'm n-no different! I-I'm the same! I deserve this!"

It wasn't much, but even you knew that he would cum before you could get more out of him, at least at the rate you were going. And, frankly, you didn't want to stop.

In fact, you wanted to take things a step further.

You grab his cock, the same cock that he'd barely registered still having, and began stroking.

And that was all that it took for Dabi, because seconds later he was clenching around you as tight as he could and cumming. It was almost like a double orgasm, what with his spurting white cum onto his black dress, and cumming clenched around you. White hot shocks sent his paralyzed body into brief jerking motions and the pleasure was immense beyond his understanding.

He would deal with the implications of this event when he wasn't still coming down from his high.

"Remember this the next time you complain about how I describe you, Dabi. Because you might just get what you wish for."

[wystiix]

talk to me, please

❥ pairing: venti x gn!reader ❥ synopsis: Venti anxiously waits for a text from you to the point where he overthinks and nearly spirals into madness—will you please just fucking reply already? ❥ cw: crack, attempt at humour (kms), fluff maybe?? not proof-read so some stuff may not make sense lmao ❥ additional tags: lowkey kinda revolves around texting, venti's perspective, no pronouns for reader, modern setting, venti is a humanities major cuz i said so, does this count as socmed??? idk someone tell me i need to sleep it's 2am ❥ word count: 955 ❥ notes: bonjour hi hello kumusta. my foot is fucking asleep and my leg feels numb and my back hurts and i'm tired an it's 2am i have school i need to stop. okay so for context i was texting this girl and she wasn't replying so i went crazy, and then i thought "wait i could write a fic about this" and here we are. it was actually kinda fun writing this HAHAHAHAHA but i had to rush it cuz i have other stuff to do so uh it may be a bit quick. (see end notes after reading cuz i said so /j)

The clock ticked. It had been three hours. Venti stared at his phone, impatiently waiting for you just please, please, please reply.

Try to distract yourself, one may say, and mark these fucking words, he did.

He tried everything. From listening to music to doing the dishes, to cleaning his room. Oh, but that was not all.

For the past few hours, he reorganised his notes, desk and playlist, walked at least twenty laps around his dorm, ate all his snacks from the pantry like a fatass, cleaned up his closet and planned what he was going to wear a week from now, learned a new song on his guitar and even counted every single one of his ceiling and wall tiles.

There were exactly 146 tiles in his dorm. That number now forever haunts him.

Practically exhausted from being way too productive than he usually was, he slumped down on his bed and opened the app he used to text you. There was still no reply.

Venti buried his face into his pillow, letting out a groan of frustration.

It was incredibly frustrating and it nearly drove him crazy. Were you seriously that busy? Normally you would respond within a span of seconds, a few to thirty minutes at the latest. But fucking three hours?

He couldn’t let this opportunity slip away. You both had been talking for over a week—he couldn’t afford to mess this up. 

But what if you suddenly lost interest? Oh, it felt far too early for that. Was he finally going to have that Mitski experience? Was he going to be those depressed poets who poured their hearts out through their ink on the paper when a single minor inconvenience happened to them? 

You were killing him. And it was not softly. Venti felt as if his heart was shattering into a million pieces.

Was this his destiny, his punishment for choosing to pursue such a depressing major in humanities?

How cruel the universe is.

He sighed in defeat, opening his notes app to write and exude a poetic, Shakespearean ballad about this before his phone suddenly buzzed.

Ding! You have received a new message from [Name]!

Holy shit has his fingers never moved so quickly before in his entire life, clicking on the notification faster than he could blink. Your sudden message almost gave him a heart attack, for fuck’s sake.

So much for living and breathing Shakespeare.

Oh, how his heart fluttered. A simple message, yet it had him forget about his lament just a few seconds prior and he found himself swooning, practically glazing your message as if it was the most fascinating piece of literature he had ever laid eyes on.

Venti paused, rereading your message 25 million times, unsure how to reply. Should he respond right away, or would that be too eager? He didn’t want to come off as desperate, but three hours of waiting had been excruciating. Perhaps he should wait a minute or two… No, that would be too long!

God he wanted to punch himself in the face for clicking that notification too fast, now he has to think of a response on the spot or else he’d look like an asshole.

He started to type out a response.

k, i see.

He paused, immediately deleting the message with a shake of his head. Too dry, he has to sound interested. I understand! Would you like to shift the conversation to a less taxing topic? Delete. Too formal. LMAOOO dw dw, what was it about anyway? Delete. ahh hope the essay didn’t stress u out too much!! Delete. i’m madly in love with u Delete. Had he sent that he would find the nearest cliff and leap off.

Venti sighed, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. Why was this so complicated? He wanted to sound interested, but not desperate; casual, but not indifferent. He ended up typing something simple and hitting send before he could second-guess himself again. Sometimes, being simple is the ultimate sophistication.

He fought the urge to chuck his phone across the room. Shit, was that too casual? How long were you going to reply this time?

There were immediate blinking dots.

The tension in his chest eased as he found himself giggling at your comment. He realised the way he was acting earlier was ridiculous, maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Venti felt the weight lift off his shoulders. The conversation was back on track, and he could breathe easy again. Just as he was about to put down his phone, the blinking dots appeared again, and he immediately reverted his attention back to it.

Another message.

What.

What the fuck. Was this real?

He put his phone face down, allowing everything to sink in.

What the fuck. Coffee? Tomorrow? With you? Did you just ask him out? Was this real? Was he real? Were you real?

The anxiety that lingered within slowly ebbed away as he stared at the ceiling tiles—the same tiles that haunted him earlier. However, they now seemed oddly comforting.

“Holy shit.”

Gods above, was this a blessing? Maybe his love life wasn’t so hopeless after all.

Venti’s gaze drifted to his closet, where he noticed that same outfit he intended to wear a week from now. A cozy, soft-beige sweater with a hint of cream peeked out from behind a row of neatly hung clothes, gently draping over a pair of charcoal chinos.

He grinned like an idiot, giggling and kicking his feet like a little child who just received their favourite toy. A string of “oh my god, oh my god” repeated endlessly in his head like a loop.

And for once, the silence didn’t feel so heavy.

❥ notes: hi so yes. yes i did what he did here. yes i counted my tiles, but it was my bathroom tiles instead. there are like 121 tiles in the bathroom, including the hidden ones. in this fic i just added the average number of tiles to that number which was like 25 tiles??? lowkey idk i just estimated. and yes i did plan my outfit a week from now, which is for church. yes i cleaned my room. yes i walked more than ten laps around my living room. i was restless. yes i was productive as hell. lmfao by the time i was done with the fic she replied to me so yay!! win!! also pls get the "you were killing him and it's not softly" reference i hope someone at least gets it or else i'm gonna cry myself to sleep. yeah anyways im gonna sleep gn <3

[gaysindistress]

Running from the Daylight - two

pairings: pirate!James “The Scourge of the Sea” Barnes x royal governor's daughter!reader 

Summary: based on this request

Warnings: reader uses She/her/hers pronouns and is AFAB, mentions of the female body/parts, cursing, suggestive sexual content, violence and mentions of death, sexual content (p in v), some dark shit (like I can’t tag it without spoiling it but people get freaky over someone who’s bleeding) I'm actually awful at tagging things but there's smut. for the love of all things holy, do not read if you are a minor.

Word count: 3.6k

part one | my master list

Tag list: @talesofreading

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif, found on google/Pinterest/tumblr. Credits to @boltlightning for the gif on the bottom left & @owenhcrper for the gif on the bottom right

Begging, pleading, and sucking him dry did nothing to convince James that I’ve been ready to take his cock since that first night.

He would be a monster and allow me to believe that he would finally take me only to stop right before it went too far. He would give me hollow reasons like “the sea is too rough,” “you are too tired,” “we don’t have a proper bed and I will not take your maiden hood without one.”

Useless excuse after useless excuse was all I received for months on end. A part of me wondered if he was growing bored but when I confessed this to him, he spent the following several hours between my legs. He lapped and sucked at my core until I was crying and shaking but kept pulling climaxes from me until I very nearly passed out.

I tried to tempt him by wearing thin nightdresses or simply nothing at all but it all failed. I even convinced Natasha to play along with a scheme in which James would just so happen to find us in the middle of fucking but nothing. All he did was sit in his captain’s chair and watch with sharp eyes, occasionally telling us what to do.

Months of pent up frustration finally came to head when we docked in New Providence to replenish our supplies. My father had been overjoyed to see me again but his happy mood was as soiled when he observed the way that James and I were.

“My darling please tell me that he has not ruined you,” my father harshly whispers to me as he pulls me aside.

I gasp in disbelief and rip my arm away from him.

“Excuse me! You are not allowed to ask me such a thing!”

“I am your father, Y/N Stark. It is well within my rights to know if my daughter has been abused by a pirate.”

I catch the watchful eye of James as he’s instructing his crew and he gives me a concerned look. I brush it off and look back to my father.

“Your daughter has not been abused,” I sneer as I spot the Commodore approaching us, “I’ve been kept safe and protected.”

Steve makes a face at my words as he stops beside us but my father seems satisfied. He backs away and nods goodbye to us before retreating back to his fortress.

“You may speak freely with me; has the pirate lord abused you?”

“The only abuse to be had is that what my throat endures from taking his cock every night,” I calmly state before also leaving to find my captain. I don’t wait to hear or see Steve’s reaction but I can feel his piercing stare on my back.

“You said you wouldn’t fuck me until we had a proper bed,” I say lowly as I drop myself onto the canopied bed behind me, “and I think this meets that requirement.”

James narrows his bright eyes at me but doesn’t move from his place leaning against the raging fireplace. It’s odd seeing him look…normal? He’s out of place in this world of luxury and refinement but here in the room that I once called my own, he looks like he belongs. A part of me wishes to pretend that our pasts were different and that he had been the man who proposed to me, yearning for me for years. I wish that time had been kind to him and that it hadn’t stolen his heart and soul. I wish that I could’ve been the one he fell in love with all those years ago so he wouldn’t have had to face that curse. I wish we could delight in being together alone in my room at my father’s estate, a situation I would’ve blushed to even think about a few months ago. I wish we could ignore the reality of who we are and wholly engulf ourselves in the opportunity that presents itself.

“I did say that, didn’t I love?” He muses for a moment, allowing his eyes to trail down my barely covered body. I’d found an even thinner and smaller nightdress to wear for tonight, hoping that it might finally be what breaks him.

Maybe my last wish would come true.

He pushes off the mantle and prowls towards me. As he gets closer, my body starts to burn with anticipation and I inch back to accommodate his imposing stature. James knocks my legs apart with his knee and slots between them as he leans over me. Both hands cup my face and my eyes flutter closed at his warm touch. He dips down to whisper in my ear and chuckles when my breath hitches.

“You need sleep my love.”

I let out a snort, “no I do not. What I need is…”

He interrupts me with a gentle peck and mutters against my lips, “I know what you need and that is sleep.”

James presses another kiss to my lips with a subtle roll of his hips into mine while wearing a wicked smirk. I stick my tongue out at him as he pulls away and waits for me to settle into bed. He finds his place in the huge and ugly arm chair that my mother insisted I needed in front of the fireplace. His hat is sat on the small table beside him and his feet are kicked out in front of himself. Crossing his arms over his chest, James settles himself into the chair as if he’s going to sleep there and I frown at him.

“I can feel you thinking, love,” he quips and although I can’t see his face, I know there’s a smirk.

“Is that where you intend to sleep? In my armchair that I know is most certainly the most uncomfortable piece of furniture in this house?”

His shoulder shrugs and he makes a show of making himself comfortable with a loud sigh.

“It’s perfectly comfortable to me, your highness,” the jab at my upbringing doesn’t go unnoticed, not with the way he elongates the word and lowers his voice.

Scoffing, I throw a pillow at him and he chuckles when it flies past, missing him.

“Remind me to work on your aim in the morning,” he teases me before adding that I need to be going to sleep.

“We’re not on your ship anymore so you’re not my captain,” I snipe and that catches his attention. He perks up and goes to say something smart back but the doors fly open, slamming against the poor walls.

James stays seated albeit ready to jump up if needed. Seeing as he’s playing it cool, I do the same and remain tucked into my bed.

The person who dared interrupt our night is none other than the Commodore. He stands at his full height with a scroll in his hand as he glares at James.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of being granted your presence so late at night, commodore?” James mocks as he watches Steve.

The wigged man says nothing but sends a death glare towards the pirate before looking at me. He takes a step towards me and James makes a clicking noise, telling him to stay put.

“Y/N,” Steve starts as he ignores the subtle warning, “your father has found a way to free you from your deal with this vile creature.”

I glance around him at James who’s smirking to himself and raises one dark brow at me. He’s no longer stretched out like a cat but instead is leaning back against the chair with his head resting on his fist as he watches us.

Turning my attention back to Steve, I ask him to elaborate and elaborate he does.

“You were under duress. You cannot be expected to uphold a deal that you made when you were in fear for your life. Your father and I handled everything, Y/N, all you need to do is say that you were afraid for your life and otherwise would not have made the deal.”

In another life the gut wrenching way that Steve is pleading with me would’ve worked. I would’ve jumped up and ran for him, falling into his arms as I sobbed that I was afraid. I would’ve taken his hand and begged him to save me for the sake of being free from a pirate even if it meant being in debt to him for life.

That is if I hadn’t met James; the man who’s shown my unconditional and undying affection. The man that has sworn to protect me and honor me as if I were his ruling goddess. The man that has seen parts of me that no other man has and the man that I want to know every inch of me, mental and physical.

“Steve, ever the gentleman,” I coo as I push the blankets from my lap and slide off my bed.

“There is but one fault in your proposal,” I state as I softly pad toward the two men, “I was not under duress. I was not afraid for my life by any stretch of the imagination. I was not afraid at all, in fact, I felt the safest I had in years in that moment.”

I can feel the heat of James’ stare on me as I come to stand beside him and continue to tear Steve apart.

“If anything, I was concerned for your life but not afraid. I knew that James would not harm or otherwise act in a way that would scare me. I knew that he would agree to my terms but you,” I point at him and allow my voice to become more harsh, “you were the one I was afraid of. You’ve always been a liability, never quite knowing when you’re going to lash out on those around you. You’ve always freighted me and that night at the bar only solidified my fears that you would cause me harm. Even if my life depended on it, I wouldn’t have agreed to marry you or went back with you that day on the Serpent’s Cry. Quite frankly, Steve, I’m perfectly content being bound to this vile creature.”

James snorts from behind me and wraps an arm around me, tugging me to sit on his lap. Steve is fuming, his face turning red with anger at my lecture and I know he’s plotting both of our demises.

The man beneath me grips my chin and tilts my head down so that he can capture my lips in a heated kiss. My hands fly to tangle into his hair as his tongue swipes at my bottom lip. A moan tumbles from me when the hand gripping my chin slides to cup the back of neck.

“Enough!” Steve’s voice rings out and he storms towards us to rip me away.

The familiar cock of a gun halts him and he frantically looks down to see a readied pistol pointing at him. It had been lying under James’ hat, hidden from plain sight so Steve had no chance to draw his open weapon.

James has the audacity to look bored as he holds the weapon and rubs small circles into my hip with his other hand.

“Out,” he orders in a low rumbling voice.

Steve, however, the oaf of a man takes another step forward and James rolls his eyes.

“Is pain the only way you learn, Commodore? Out before I shoot your cock off.”

Steve scoffs at the crude words and I stifle a giggle while tucking my face into James’ neck. He shudders slightly at the feeling and squeezes my hip.

“Y/N,” Steve tries to appeal to me but I’m not having any of it. I begin to plant wet kisses on James’ neck and nip at the soft skin occasionally. Steve calls to me again and I suck a deep red, nearly purple mark into the pirate’s neck which earns me a throaty groan.

A series of sounds ring out and I jolt away from my haven. First is the sound of Steve stepping forward, a gun shot, a cry of pain, and a thud as Steve falls to the ground. With wide eyes I try to look at him but James catches my face in a tight hold, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“Don't look at him, love. Eyes on me, understood?” He whispers, letting his lips dance over mine and holding my eye contact with a fierce look swirling in his blue eyes.

I manage a small nod and he smiles at me before addressing Steve who’s clutching his leg.

“I warned you and you did not listen. As far as I’m concerned, you are to blame for the state of your leg. Now I suggest you drag your cowardly self out of this room before I do depart your cock from your body as I promised."

Lost in the way his eyes captive me and his words cause a fire to ignite in my body, I don’t hear Steve’s protests that break through the cries of pain. It’s not until James breaks our trance and rolls his eyes that I realize our situation. I still obey James and don’t look by hiding my face in his neck once again. He coos to me to go to my bed and turn away from them as he helps me stand.

“Keep your eyes on the ground for me,” he tells me when my hand slips from his and I cautiously make my way to my bed.

From behind me, I hear James let out an exaggerated sigh and the crackling of leather from him bending down.

“You’ve shot my leg, how am I to be expected to leave?” Steve hisses through the agonizing pain.

“Drag yourself like the worm you are. It's none of my concern how you choose to obey my command."

“I will not leave her alone with such a demonic savage like yourself.”

There’s a pause, a tension filled pause as I assume James debates what to do. However his next words are not exactly what I was expecting.

“Pain doesn't seem to be a strong enough deterrent for you, Commodore. Remember; you are to blame for your current situation,” he huffs as he yanks Steve up and drops him into the chair we’d been sitting in.

“Love hand me the sheet,” he says to me without looking.

I quickly bundle up the item he’s asking for and toss it to him. I want to ask what he’s planning but it becomes clear when he starts to wrap it around Steve.

“Since you refuse to leave her alone with such a demonic savage, as you put it so beautifully, you’ll have to watch her damnation.”

Steve lets out a roar of protest and it met with a pistol pressed under his jaw.

“You were told to leave and you did not. Seeing her defiled and ravished as she deserves is a fitting punishment. I think this is preferable to death but I am not the true judge. Love?”

The nickname catches me off guard and my eyes dart between them but it’s the stormy eyes of James that are given my full attention.

“What do you think? Should I grant him mercy and kill him before you take my cock? Or should he watch as I take what he's desired for years?"

As I fail to answer, James adds, "I will only do this if this is what you want. If not, I’m more than happy to show him just how acquainted with the devil I am.”

Words escape me and I just nod.

Apparently that’s not good enough.

“Use your words love. Tell us what you want.”

“I…fuck,” I mumble under my breath and James’ smirk spreads across his face. He knows that I want this, that I want nothing more than for him to finally take me even if it means Steve is forced to watch.

“I don’t think the Commodore heard you. Louder.”

“Yes. I want this. I want you. I want you to take me.”

James cocks a brow at Steve with a sinister smirk, “it appears that your pure angel wants me to defile her while you watch.”

The tied up man jerks forward with a threat on his lips and james lets out a terrifying laugh. He ignores the protests and calls me over with the hook of his finger. My body is trembling as I let my feet touch the ground and nearly stumble as I try to walk. Steve must think it’s out of fear but my captain knows it’s due to anticipation.

I stop at his side and James draws away from the injured man to wrap an arm around me. Pulling me in front of him, my back is to his chest and I’m facing Steve. James keeps his gun pointed at him while bending his head to my ear and whispering to me.

“You tell me when you want to stop, understood?“ he tells me in a voice so low I almost don’t hear him. When I don’t acknowledge his statement, he squeezes my hip with his free hand and repeats it.

Breathlessly I agree, “Yes, please James. I need you.”

He nudges my legs apart and drifts his hand from my hip to my core, pulling up my night dress in the process. My head lolls back, falling onto his shoulder and he captures my lips in a searing kiss. Moans and sighs fall without hesitation as he begins to run firm but slow circles into the bundle of nerves that only he can seem to find. His name becomes a chorus that is caught between our lips as the pressure builds within my core. He releases my lips and lets me sing my song for Steve to hear clearly. I feel him smile against my temple as I grow louder and louder. Just as I’m about reach my climax, he pulls his hand away and I nearly cry. A few tears leak from my eyes and he coos sweetly to me.

“Shhhhh love, I promised to defile you and I intend to do that. Lean forward and put your hands on his shoulders.”

“James,” I whimper when I feel him back away.

“Do as you’re told.”

The sounds of his belt and pants dropping silences me. I lean forward and with hazy eyes, look Steve straight on as my hands grip his shoulders. There’s a fire burning in his light eyes and I’ve come to know what it truly is. He can try to deny it but we all know watching me is causing him to grow hard and angry.

“Y/N,” his voice breaks as he whispers my name and I blink hard trying to look at him.

The heavy heat of James behind me distracts me and I drop my head at the feeling of him rutting against me.

He taunts Steve with cruel words as he drags the head of his cock through my folds and pulls wanton moans from my swollen lips.

“James,” I plead, “please.”

He coos mockingly as he lines himself up.

“Louder, my love. I don’t think your fiancé heard you.”

“He’s not my fiancé,” I grit out angrily but it falls flat when he pushes his entire length inside of me. It turns into a wince and pained moan but he doesn’t pull out. He keeps it there, watching me struggle with the pain that morphs into blinding pleasure. Only when I push back against him does he withdraws a few inches but keeps most of his length inside me as he starts to rock his hips into me. He’s slow and deliberate at first, focusing on pulling the loudest and most embarrassing moans he can from me but as his own body betrays him, his hips increase their pace.

Below me Steve is a mess. His breathing is ragged and the color is draining from his face as the blood loss becomes too much. I can’t bare to look at him and James must see that in the way I keep my head bent down. A sharp tug on my hair forces my head up and I see the devastation written lines on his face. The cold barrel on a gun rubs against my scalp and it dawns on me that the hand that’s in my hair is holding the gun. He grunts as he pumps his dick into me and I cry out as pleasure washes over me. He keeps one hand coiled into my hair as the other slips to my core, rubbing me and drawing my climax from me.

James tugs me up against his chest and I tilt my head back to rest against his shoulder as we continue to move against each other. His cock drags against my walls in a nearly painful way but I don't care. I’m pulsing around him and pleading with him to let go with me. As my eyes flutter shut from the white hot pleasure, he tugs my hair again and demands I look at Steve.

“Look at the Commodore, love. Look at what just watching you does to him,” he mumbles against the skin of my neck. My eyes are heavy and it’s a struggle to do as I’m told but I do and it earns me my climax.

James thrusts up hard one final time and we’re both moaning as I finish. He’s not far behind and groans out my name as he releases his hot seed into me. We’re a panting mess as he slows and eventually stops. He loosens his grip on my hair with a sweet kiss to my temple and whispers praise into my ear.

Intertwined in those sweet phrases is a promise and at first I think it’s for me. Only when the second shot of the night rings out do I realize that it was intended for Steve.

“I hope for your sake that your false god takes pity on you and allows you to die before morning.”

With that he tucks himself back into his pants and lifts me into his arms. My final memory of commodore will be blurred in pleasure and blood but I don’t care. He can bleed out for all I care after he dared to lay a hand on me and insult the man I love.

[a-kaash-me-outside]

the walls are thin - epilogue

in which atsumu is your college neighbor with whom you share a wall. previous | epilogue [masterlist]

// proudly unpredictable and awestrukenly trusting ~ ᴀᴛsᴜᴍᴜ x ʙᴏᴋᴜᴛᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 12504 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter: 18+ minors dni omg even more smut, lots of fluff!, established relationships, seriously just a lot of fluff, we get to see all our favs, gatherings, party vibes, threesome, oral m!receive, throat fucking, oral f!receive, slight objectification but its hot?, afab she/her pronouns

a note from ♡ tori ♡: ah okay guys, i can't believe we're finally here. the END of twrt. i really didn't think that it would get this much love and all the interactions really just made me so happy and like would make my days, every week, all the time. tysm and ah, i can't wait for you guys to read THIS. it's like, ah, my fav. <3 <3 <3 can't wait to hear your guys' last thoughts on this silly little fic. ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

ever since you woke up 3 hours ago, you’ve been an anxious mess. productive, sure, but still uneasy. even now, you’re tidying, moving about the kitchen, wiping down the counters, putting away dishes, moving with purpose, quick, short movements from task to task. 

“can ya stop pacing? it’s making me nervous,” atsumu calls from the living room, clicking his tongue and shaking his head as he emerges in the archway.

“how are you not more nervous already?” you ask, not stopping a single bit, actually pacing more now. before it was a way of getting around between chores, now you’re heel to toe, heel to toe, heel to heel toe until you reach the edge of the invisible barrier between your kitchen and dining room and then you turn 180° and repeat the process again.

it’s much roomier here than the kitchen in your apartment. the distance between your 180s is much longer than you had the luxury of before. you’re grateful for that, more time to overthink before spinning around. 

you’re grateful for a lot of things in this kitchen compared to the last. the countertops are much nicer, shinier, easier to clean. the cupboards are roomier, don’t slam as loudly. the sink is big, spacious, with a spraying feature that actually gets the food off of the dishes. the stove has gas burners and there are two ovens instead of one really shitty one (though, those were a part of the non negotiable luxuries list you and atsumu came up with months ago). the fridge makes ice without having to fill the trays and the freezer has built-in shelves. 

you’re grateful for the little things scattered around the kitchen too, the things that make it feel like home. the electric kettle is a matte sage and it matches your tea green dishware. the two cacti on the window sill, the hanging flowers to the right of the sink. photos of you and atsumu and friends, stupid lovey notes, oikawa and iwaizumi’s save the date, all attached to the fridge with tasteful souvenir magnets. the notepad on the freezer door where you and atsumu write your meal plan for the week. a dry erase calendar sprinkled with events in both yours and atsumu’s handwriting. 

“hey, c’mon,” he says, walking over to you, reaching out his hand and wrapping it around your wrist gently to stop your repetitive motions. “makin’ me dizzy too.” he lets your hand fall as you stop, walking a few more steps away from him, deeper into the kitchen.

you huff, leaning your lower back against the cool countertop, heels digging into the tile floor as you cross your arms over your chest. “seriously, tsumu, how are you not nervous?”

he leans against the adjacent counter, palms gripping the edge, “what exactly are you worried about?”

“i don’t know,” you mumble, head tilting forward slowly, base leaving your spine, chin coming into soft contact with your chest as you take a deep breath. 

you can’t see atsumu as he moves towards you, too busy looking down at your feet, but his voice is close to you as he speaks, “yea you do.” it’s soft, knowing, but patient. 

“i just…,” you trail off. atsumu waits a few moments, trying to let you articulate whatever you’re feeling and wherever your worries are stemming from, but you look up at him and you’re not making any attempts to explain, so he tries to fill it in. 

“everyone will get along, i promise. i know it’s been awhile, but that doesn’t mean that-,” he starts explaining.

you cut him off, shaking your head, “no it’s not that…”

“then what, baby?” he asks, nudging your legs apart, stepping in between them until the outsides of his thighs are pressed against the insides of yours. he grips onto the counter on either side of your hips.

you speak, small and somewhat under your breath, “we haven’t seen everyone in too long, i just really want everything to go well so i can enjoy the night.”

“come here,” he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest, smoothing his hand over your hair as he presses a soft kiss onto the top. you let him move you, embrace you, wrapping your arms around his waist and finally taking a much needed deep breath. 

you’re already feeling so much better, but he keeps explaining, “we get to see friends, some that we haven’t seen in years, all in one place, under this roof, our roof,” he pulls you back gently, kissing your cheek and then your cheekbones, “we own this roof,” he says, kissing you again and you giggle, “and we get to just hang out and play stupid games and catch up with everyone.”

atsumu steps back from you, interlocking his fingers with yours and spinning you around until your back is pressed up against his chest, swaying with you. “and we will play terrible music and feel so weird when two obscure friends talk to each other and we don’t even have to worry about stupid downstairs neighbors,” he says, spinning you back so he can see your adorable face again, watch the worry melt right off of it as he often gets to do because he’s so good at the melting, “and everyone will give us gifts, some really cool and some really bad, and we get to just have a really great night with everyone all in exchange for hours of veggie prep and hundreds of dollars in sliced meats and days of setting up and coming days of cleaning up.”

well, fuck, you can’t even remember why you were so worried a second ago. 

“we still have so much work to do before everyone shows up at 6,” you note, no longer hurriedly anxious but still aware of how quickly time seems to pass when you’re being smothered in kisses by atsumu. your eyes flick to the clock above the stove that reads 10:15 am, but you don’t move an inch. even after all of this time, you’re still painfully aware of how difficult it is to unravel from a comforting atsumu.

bzz bzz. atsumu sits up, kisses your forehead quickly, and then walks back to the living room where his phone is buzzing. well, maybe it’s not so difficult for him. you almost yell out a pout, but realize that this sudden interruption should probably be welcomed, allowing you to actually focus on getting the house perfectly ready. 

“hey,” atsumu says into the phone, muffled by the distance of being two rooms over now. “yea.” … “great!” … “okay.” …. “alright.” …. “okay. see you then.” …. “love you too.”

you scan your list of things to do, open the fridge to truly take in the quantity of vegetables and amount of side prepping you have to do, put the last dishes from the dishwasher away, and make a tiny note to remind atsumu to grab the mini burners from the basement. “who was that?” you call out. 

“god, it’s a good thing we did all the shopping yesterday, or you’d be an even bigger mess today,” atsumu says, popping into the kitchen again, jumping up onto your freshly cleaned counter. 

you throw him a look, eyes narrowed and jaw open in faux shock. “i literally just cleaned that,” you say, gesturing to the counter he is now sitting on, “also, i probably would be a smaller mess if someone was a bit more helpful.” you can’t help your smile as he shrugs his shoulders, playing along. just as you spent the entire morning cleaning the kitchen, atsumu had spent the entire morning cleaning the living room. the two of you both knew this. 

you walk over to him. “can’t believe i’ve had to do everything today,” you shake your head at him, smile even wider as he leans forward and kisses it. “in return, i’d like you to go downstairs and find those stupid burners and also bring up the extra tables so i can set them.” 

even amidst the chaos, clock ticking down with your to-do list still impossibly full, atsumu has a way of pulling you into these small moments. he always has, your entire relationship. it doesn’t matter what you were worried about, how you were feeling, what you were doing, he always creates space for you and him to just enjoy each other. 

most of the time, just like this time, it comes in the form of teasing and poking fun. “y’know,” you tack on, leaning forward and kissing him back, “because you haven’t really done anything,” you explain.  

he wraps his arms around your waist, leans back pulling you with him, kissing the side of your face, “oh is that so?” 

you squirm to get out of his arms, but he holds tight, laughing now as he continues to press kiss after kiss after kiss wherever he can reach. “yes! it is so!!” you yell, laughter making it nearly unintelligible. 

“right, the living room cleaned itself?” he asks.

you can’t stop laughing as you quip back, “magic, maybe.” 

he lets you go completely now and shakes his head at you. “just like the table is going to magically find its way up here?” he asks, tilting his head. 

you place your hands on his knees. “nope. that’s all you,” you tease.

knock knock knock. the fear creeps up on you quickly, all rational thought leaving in an instant as you worry about how much time could have passed, wrong information you could’ve sent out, unexpected people that it could be. 

the crooked smile on atsumu’s face combats it instantly. “it’s a good thing i recruited back up then, huh?” atsumu says, nodding in the vague direction of your front door. your eyebrows knit together in confusion, but atsumu doesn’t say anything else, nods in the same direction again.

you make your way to the front door, tip toeing on perfectly cleaned hardwood floors and over brand new decorative rugs. just a week ago, this place was filled with boxes and disassembled furniture. now, in their places are the trinkets that filled them and the put together pieces.

the front door doesn’t even have a chance to open completely before you’re jumping into his arms, squeak of excitement leaving you, hanging off of his neck. whatever he was holding in his arms is set gently onto the ground so that he’s able to reciprocate the tightness of the hug. 

you pull back, eyes wide and smile even wider before wrapping your arms around him once more and hugging him even tighter. you’re so enveloped in his embrace that you don’t hear atsumu approach behind you, only notice that he’s there when he scoffs loudly.

“what was one of the first things i said when you learned that he existed?” atsumu jokingly scolds. you pull away from your hug, half turning to see atsumu’s smitten smile and teasing head shakes. “i said that you weren’t allowed to like my brother more than me.”

you take a step back from the doorway, allowing osamu to actually step into the house. osamu reaches down to pick up his bags, one neatly packaged reusable kitchen bag and a just as neatly packaged gift bag. “that is somethin’ he usually has to say,” osamu says, looking in your direction, “when people meet atsumu first, it sets the bar pretty low.”

atsumu reaches forward to hit the side of osamu’s head, but osamu ducks out of the way like he’s been anticipating it from the moment the thought popped into his head. “besides, most people can’t help it,” osamu loudly whispers to you, smirking, “i’m just the better twin.”

“never shoulda invited ya,” atsumu shakes his head.

“but i’m so much help,” osamu replies, leaving his shoes neatly to the right of the door. 

“yea, you’re just in time to go get stuff from the basement,” atsumu points out, nodding towards the basement door down the hallway.

“oh, absolutely not,” you step in front of atsumu’s nodding, blocking the view to the basement as if to prove a point. “samu’s gonna help me in the kitchen because duh and also so he can tell me all about the onigiri miya drama,” you explain to atsumu, shifting your weight forward onto the tips of your toes and smiling huge.

“god, i made a mistake inviting you over to help prep, didn’t i?” atsumu asks, but you’re already pulling osamu by the forearm into the kitchen, loudly excited to tell him every little detail about your new kitchen.

“you remember the old kitchen, right?” 

“yea, of course, was kinda shitty.”

“i know, i know, but look! look at this, samu, 2 ovens.”

“gas stove too?”

“yea! works much better with the pans you got tsumu and i last christmas.”

“oh! do ya wanna see the housewarming gift i got ya?”

“now?!”

“why not?”

“then, yea! duh!”

nope. definitely not a mistake.

atsumu peaks his head into the archway with every intention of telling you that he’s heading to the basement and asking you if you could think of anything else that was down there that he needed to bring up. instead, he gets to watch this scene unfold, doesn’t dare to interrupt as you tear the tissue paper out of the bag, throw it onto the floor that you were so worried about moments ago, dig your hand around inside to feel for the contents, and then pull out a wooden box. “no way,” you say under your breath, turning quickly to set it down on the counter with excessive care. “my own?”

“come on, yn, every time you and sumu were at my place when ya came to visit, ya wouldn’t stop talkin’ about it,” osamu says, beaming, watching you closely as you gently pop open the latch. 

“yea but then i went home and tsumu and i looked up how much it was and then we couldn’t stop randomly bringing up how much you spent on a fucking knife for 3 weeks straight,” you explain, shaking your head. you reach down into the box, running your fingers over the engraving on the side and it takes everything in you not to burst into tears as you read it. miya. 

“i heard ya had a lot of veggies to prep,” osamu says, shrugging, “you’ll get enough use out of it today alone, i bet.”

“this is insane, samu, fuck,” you say, turning towards him and hugging him for the third time today already. “thank you so much.”

“of course,” osamu says, hugging you back.

“not really a gift for tsumu, though, huh?” you ask.

“the gift for sumu was how happy it makes you,” he replies without missing a beat, as if he actually thought it all the way through when buying it, saw the price tag, and took into account how happy his brother would be if he bought it for you. you can’t stop smiling.

the food prep flies by, not just because of your incredible new knife, but also because of the company. it’s actually been hours by the time you get everything washed, chopped, prepped, and plated, but the entire time was spent catching up on months worth of onigiri miya drama and the trips that you and atsumu had recently taken.

the second that the door to the basement closes, you lean in close to osamu, “so how is it going with that girl who keeps coming in right before closing?” you don’t have to be as close as you are to osamu to notice how flustered he gets instantly. 

“i’m gonna switch jobs with sumu,” osamu threatens, shaking his head as he brings packages of vegetables to the sink.

you follow right along. “evading the question is just going to make it worse,” you explain.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies, evidently evading the question.

“the last you told me, she was still coming in and you were still staying open just to make her food,” you say, turning off the faucet so that he pays attention to you. “is that still happening?” he doesn’t respond. “you have to at least give me that!”

he sighs, turning his attention to you. “the second that atsumu walks up those stairs, you don’t say another word about this,” he says, finger in your face.

“deal! deal deal deal!” you say, nodding along. “is it still happening?”

“and,” he adds, “you let me wash the veggies while we talk about this.” you reach over and turn the faucet on again, smiling. he continues, “yes, it’s still happening.”

“have you told her that you like her?” you ask, not contributing a single bit to the prep that osamu is doing.

“well, i’m not 12, so, no?” he replies.

you hit his shoulder, “you don’t have to be 12 to have a crush on someone, samu. but, seriously, do you get that vibe?”

“probably just hungry after work or something,” osamu mumbles.

“so nothing has happened since we last talked that would make it seem like maybe she’s into you?” you ask, squinting at him despite the fact that his attention is solely on washing the bunches of broccoli.

you hear the sound of ascending steps from the basement, the door knob jiggle open, and you know osamu does too as he quickly says, “i mean, maybe the one time we were chatting until 4 am.” the door squeaks open and osamu raises his eyebrows at you and shakes his head. you will get this information out of him later. 

it’s not long until it’s just a few short hours of everyone arriving. the decorating is mostly done, the food is prepped in the fridge, the tables are mostly set up. you entrust the rest of the prep to the miya twins- which might be a terrible idea, you’ll have to see once you come back downstairs- as you go upstairs to get yourself ready.

“i will keep an eye on him,” osamu says, flinging his arm around atsumu.

atsumu instantly pushes osamu’s arm off of him, shaking his head and reaching to smack the side of his head again. “it’s my house!” atsumu yells, missing once again and then instantly trying to hit him again. when osamu keeps moving out of the way, atsumu jumps at osamu, sending the two of them flying backwards and into one of the tables that needs to be finished setting up. the table bumps against the wall and even from your place on the stairs, you can see the ding in the freshly painted wall.

atsumu and osamu look at the wall and then up at you, waiting to see how you’ll react and how much they should start blaming each other. you just laugh, “the first of many, i suppose.” and then you make your way upstairs. 

/++/

5:39pm and you walk downstairs, breath held because you’re not exactly sure what the state of the house is going to be in, but whatever expectations that you had are surpassed. everything looks exactly how you want it to look.

atsumu and osamu are standing side by side looking down at the large, mostly empty table where, in an hour’s time, your closest friends will be gathered, enjoying food and each other’s company. “i still think we should just set up the broths and vegetables,” atsumu says. 

your torn between pulling out the camera or committing this adorable scene to memory, atsumu and osamu in the same exact pose, arms folded across their chests, posture mimicked, head tilted to the same degree. you opt for the camera. it’s more replicable that way, more provable. 

it’s over all too soon, osamu bumping his shoulder into atsumu’s and shaking his head. “i told ya already, stupid,” osamu jeers, “if people aren’t eatin’ for another hour, there’s no need to bring em out yet. ya don’t even have to do anything, just hafta take the plastic wrap off of em.”

“yeah, but when we’re-,” atsumu starts to argue.

“yer wrong, just be wrong, sumu,” osamu interrupts. 

atsumu moves to hit him again, but you speak up, “we can just bring it out when everyone arrives and settles.” the two of them turn to face you and atsumu can’t help the smitten face that quickly takes over, doesn’t even have the heart to argue with you right now. “seriously, everything looks great, guys, thank you.”

osamu sends back a quick, not a problem that you don’t have a chance to reply to, because atsumu meets you in two quick strides, kissing the side of your cheek. “you look a lot less stressed,” he says against your skin and then moves to pull away. osamu, the most perfect man in the world who can read any room and react with impeccable timing, tells the two of you that he’s going to finish cleaning up the prep mess in the kitchen.

you place both of your hands on either side of atsumu’s face, pulling him to kiss you. “you’re really good to me, y’know that?” you ask.

“ya look really good tonight, y’know that?” he asks back.

you shake your head at his evaded question. you know that he knows that. you kiss him again. “don’t you have to get ready? people are going to walk through that door any minute.”

“yes,” he says quickly, kisses you once more, and is then bounding up the stairs, “i’ll be 10 minutes tops!” he yells from your bedroom. 

/++/

atsumu is the third person that shows up to your party and that’s not including you and osamu. the first person that shows up is maki at 5:58pm because, sure, he could’ve waited for those 2 minutes and shown up right on time, but that would’ve been 2 minutes that he could’ve been spending with you. he earns a hug just as hard as osamu, harder even, longer, despite the fact that you saw maki just last week when he helped you move in. 

“you’re early, y’know that?” you ask when you pull away. maki steps inside of your house as if he’s been there a million times, leaves his shoes right next to osamu’s and nods. 

“2 whole minutes,” maki replies, shrugging, “issei’s on his way and i’m sure oikawa and iwa will be late,” he informs you and you nod along. sure, maki had helped you move in, but he hadn’t gotten to see your house put together like it is now. he takes the liberty of exploring the rooms of the ground floor and you follow him around as you ask him how his drive was. 

when you make it into the kitchen, excited to start rattling off everything about it that you love, osamu is in there casually on his phone. osamu and maki had met before, several times. it was inevitable, really, the most important person in your life other than atsumu and the most important person in his life other than you knowing one another. and you’re grateful for the fact that you don’t need to introduce or entertain the two of them as they instantly start a conversation because someone is already at the door and atsumu is nowhere to be seen.

the second person that shows up at your party is kita at 6:00pm on the dot. you know everyone that’s coming to the party, but you know kita the least and yet, the second that he starts talking, you feel like you’ve known him forever. you’ve only really met one other time, but kita steps inside and tells you how gorgeous the entryway to your house is and hands you a small gift and you understand very quickly why atsumu and osamu have raved about this person for years. 

atsumu makes his way downstairs, quickly and haphazardly and almost falling on his ass, at 6:14pm. he just barely beats out sakusa and hinata who show up together at 6:15pm. in fact, he’s there to greet them at the door with you. they’re the first people that you greet as a couple and it, along with the soft chatter in the kitchen from osamu, maki, and kita, is making the night feel very real. 

sakusa and hinata don’t need any introductions or hand-holding. even though they have never been in your house, they make themselves feel at home, walking in and leaving the two of you in the doorway as they explore. “this is crazy, right?” you ask atsumu, unable to focus on one conversation that’s happening and it’s filling you with a joy that is unmatched. 

he answers by pressing a kiss into your forehead and nodding down the hall where hinata is touching something that he maybe shouldn’t be and sakusa is scolding him, something about how he’s so glad bo isn’t here yet. you can’t help but laugh, taking a single step in their direction before the next person is knocking on the door. 

issei shows up at 6:16pm. he’s the first person to say the word, congratulations! to the two of you and it feels warm on your mind and in your chest. “maki’s already here, right? he said he was coming early to see you,” issei says, peering down your hallway.

“two minutes, issei,” you say, shaking your head, “he was two minutes early and it’s a good thing too, because i haven’t been able to spare anything other than those two minutes.”

“ah, there’s that college you,” issei jokes, pulling you in for a hug, “i knew it was in there somewhere, that interesting mixture of super stressed and in love with atsumu.” you narrow your eyes at him, but can’t get a comeback out as he continues, “where’s kawa and hajime, anyway?”

“come on,” you check your imaginary watch, “it’s still practically six o’clock.”

“true, but iwa did say that he was really going to try to get oikawa here on time,” issei notes as you shut the door behind him.

“and i’m saying that even really trying, there’s no way oikawa shows up before 7pm,” you shoot back and pull issei into the direction of the kitchen. you make quick eye contact with atsumu who gives you a warm smile and gestures towards the living room, making his way over there as soon as you return an affirming nod. 

“i know you’re right, but sometimes i just want to have faith in them, y’know,” issei says, the two of you entering the kitchen. maki immediately (and politely) leaves his current conversation to join you guys when he sees you. 

“who?” maki asks, quickly and very nosy.

“hajime trying to get oikawa here early,” you reply.

“oh, there’s no way that oikawa shows up before 7pm,” maki says matter-of-factly.

you grab onto his shoulder, nodding with your whole body because it’s really nice to have someone in your life who understands you as much as maki does. “that’s what i said!!!!”

the three of you catch up as much as three people who are in four different group chats and who talk to each other every day can catch up with one another. it is different, though. you hadn’t seen issei in months and maki hadn’t seen him in almost as long as you and you feel like you’re back in college in the best way possible and you really wish oikawa and iwaizumi were here.

you’re so immersed in your conversation that you actually don’t hear the door open. instead, you hear the voices traveling from the foyer, through the halls, and to the kitchen at 6:43pm.

“i don’t think you’re supposed to just walk in, rin,” you hear a familiar voice at the front door. 

“well, then, maybe they should lock their door, aran,” you hear a different familiar voice reply.

you excuse yourself, walking to go greet the two people at the door. atsumu beats you to it, practically running down the hallway and pulling aran and then suna into a half hug. “yo, careful, atsumu, geez,” suna pokes, but hugs him right back. “you’re gonna break whatever this gift is.”

“how do you not know what it is?” atsumu asks, grabbing the large bag from him.

“because rin just asked if we could get something together so he wouldn’t have to go shopping,” aran says before suna could offer any sort of bullshit excuse. suna doesn’t deny it then, only lets a knowing, lazy smile creep onto his face. 

“yea, guilty,” suna shrugs, “but to be fair, it was really expensive, whatever it is.”

aran nods, “it was really expensive.”

atsumu shakes his head, “you guys really didn’t hafta get us anything.”

“i mean, if it was just you, we wouldn’t have,” suna explains, looking passed atsumu and walking towards you. “thanks for havin’ us.”

you are pulled into two more hugs. you should have been keeping count of the amount of hugs you’re giving out tonight because the number is definitely getting up there and you’re not sure that it’s going to stop anytime soon.

“of course,” you reply, “thank you for whatever this really expensive gift is.”

“yea, whatever it is,” suna laughs.

you rest your hand on aran’s shoulder, “kita’s already here and osamu’s been here all day.”

“what? where was our all day invite?” suna asks.

“we’re literally here 45 minutes late, rin,” aran says, face unphased but voice questioning.

“yea, and you wouldn’t have helped,” atsumu tacks on.

“alright, yea,” suna says and the four of you walk into the kitchen. you note in your head that another thing you’re very grateful for about this kitchen is how much bigger it is than your last one, the open connection to the dining area granting the ability to fit everyone without having to worry about being too cramped. 

you note the different groups of people forming, the different conversations that are taking place. you’re still playing host right now, walking from group to group and adding a few words or giving a side hug or asking if anyone wants a drink.

“who else is coming?” aran asks when you interrupt his conversation with kita and sakusa.

“oh, my friends, oikawa and iwaizumi, and then bo, i think, right?” you answer and ask atsumu across the room.

“yup,” atsumu nods, returning his attention to the conversation that he’s having with issei and suna. 

“oikawa and iwaizumi are usually this late, but i’m not sure why bo is so late,” you say, thoughtful, but then shrug your shoulders. as if on cue, there is a knock at the door. “oh! that’s probably him.”

you rush over to the door and are very surprised to see oikawa and iwaizumi at 7:02pm. “i’m sorry that we’re late. i really tried this time,” iwaizumi says, looking at oikawa with a death stare rather than you with an apologetic one. you laugh, shaking your head. you hug them both, one arm around each of their necks as you squeeze them tight.

you hadn’t seen them even longer than you hadn’t seen issei, almost an entire year. sure, you kept in contact all the time, but you hadn’t physically been able to hug them and see them in far too long. they had just been much too busy with life and travel and wedding plans and life. “‘ts fine, but you’re staying later to make up for it,” you reply, still not letting go.

“oh, we’re staying in town for a few days, actually,” oikawa smiles, “surprise?”

“oh my god!” you say, indeed surprised. “that’s incredible!”

“yeah, atsumu helped us set the whole thing up the second we even made a mention in passing,” oikawa explains. 

“guess that’s why kawa thought it would be okay to be the last people here?” iwaizumi says, evidently still playfully bitter about the fact that oikawa made them late again.

“actually,” you say, “not the last people to get here. somehow.”

“dammit! no way?” iwaizumi says in disbelief. you’re about to question why that’s such a bad thing, but oikawa’s sweet smile contorts into mischief and told ya so. 

“ha! pay up! i told you, hajime,” oikawa says, poking his finger into the side of iwaizumi’s cheek.

“ridiculous,” iwaizumi shakes his head, “who else?”

“oh, just bokuto. i’m still really not sure why he’s so late. i thought you guys were him,” you reply, shaking your head. “i’ll send him a text-.”

“hajime,” oikawa says monotonously, cutting you off, “pay. up.”

“what? not here?” iwaizumi says, shaking his head, eyebrows furrowed like oikawa has just asked for something he should not have. knowing oikawa, he probably did exactly that.

“yes, here. pay up!” oikawa says, nodding back in the direction that they came from. you tilt your head curiously, wanting to ask questions, but just letting whatever is happening unfold.

“absolutely not,” iwaizumi refuses.

“no, because i said that-,” oikawa starts, finger in iwaizumi’s face once again.

“okay, okay, fine,” iwaizumi gives in. you’ve known the two of them long enough to know exactly what’s going through iwaizumi’s brain. there were times before that he didn’t give in to oikawa as quickly as this, but all three of you know that when oikawa starts droning on about whatever he said, it never ends in iwaizumi getting his way. 

“it’s in the car,” oikawa smiles.

“i’ll be back,” iwaizumi grumbles, turning around and then he’s gone again. 

you choose not to ask any questions because oikawa is not responding to your very confused face and instead starts asking you about your new home. you only get halfway into a partial conversation when iwaizumi shows back up at the door, shaking his head, sighing heavily with a white t-shirt that reads oikawa was right. “perfect,” oikawa says, placing his palm against the words and patting softly. 

he walks down the hallway on his toes, swaying back and forth proudly, “issei, come look at this stupid fucking shirt that hajime’s wearing!” within seconds, issei appears in the hallway, attacking oikawa with a hug and then pointing at iwaizumi, shaking his head and laughing. maki follows behind with less force, but all of his composure vanishes the second he sees the shirt. 

“god, i can’t believe i get to marry that idiot,” iwaizumi says softly and you know that if anyone else were standing here with him, he wouldn’t have let it slip out into the air, but he knows that you get it more than anyone. 

once everyone is settled, back into small groups conversing, you take out your phone to shoot bokuto a text message to at least ask him where he’s at. he responds in seconds.

> bokkun ♡ /  7:14 pm> SORRY. walking up now ♡♡♡♡♡♡

“well, well, well,” you say, clicking your tongue as you open the door. you’re there before he’s even knocked. “you’re very late, bokuto.” 

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry,” he says, leaning down and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into an enveloping, warm, tight hug. “but i have a good reason?” he says as he steps back.

emerging from behind him is akaashi with an almost embarrassed, sheepish smile.

“oh my god! i haven’t seen you in so long! ah!” you say, greeting him with a hug as well. it’s less warm, more friendly than bokuto’s, and you can feel how nervous he is. you met akaashi a few times before and really hit it off. he was easily one of your favorite people even though you’ve known him much less than some of the other people at this party. but he didn’t live in the area and neither of you were very good at keeping up with each other.

“i’m sorry i dropped by uninvited, but bokuto said that it would be okay and-,” akaashi smiles apologetically. 

“of course it’s okay!” you say, pulling him inside. 

“well, okay, i didn’t bring kaashi so that you would ignore me,” bokuto says, stepping inside on your other side, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side.

“me? ignore you? come on, you’ve gotta be joking,” you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck, practically hanging off of him. “tsumu!” you yell excitedly, walking as quickly as you can with bokuto attached to your hip into the living room where everyone has migrated, “bo is here!” you emerge from the hallway. “and look who he brought!”

you’re so excited to start introducing anyone who doesn’t know akaashi to akaashi because everyone loves akaashi, but just as you’re about to start pointing everyone out and giving names to faces, akaashi speaks, soft and timid in this room of so many people, but clear nonetheless. “samu?”

osamu’s head swivels around quickly, following that voice that he evidently knows so well, because the word is already coming out of his mouth, before he’s even made eye contact with him. “keiji?” there are conversations still happening, people still chatting, but a few of them stop, and most importantly you hear it and notice it. 

“you two know each other?” bokuto asks, surprised and excited all in one.

for you, it’s more about figuring out what’s happening than being excited and happy that they already know each other. “you two know each other that well?” you question.

osamu turns away, tilts his head down to the floor and clears his throat, but akaashi isn’t that quick. you watch the blush spread across his nose and cheeks.

“yeah, i work near onigiri miya and i usually stop there after work,” akaashi explains, “samu- er, osamu is usually kind enough to let me stay and eat while he cleans up.” 

it all clicks.

you can’t stop the expression from creeping onto your face. the warning glance that osamu sends your way is just more proof of how heavily it’s showing. you have so many questions, need so many answers, at the very least want some sort of confirmation that you are as right about this as you feel and akaashi gives you just that.

he laughs, light and airy, and you can see the effects that it has on osamu. “just the other day he let me stay until like,” akaashi lowers his head, slightly embarrassed, “i had a really annoying day at work and he let me hang out in the restaurant until like 4 in the morning. and you had to be in at like 9 the next day, didn’t you?” he asks osamu.

“oh, even earlier, actually,” osamu teases back, “like 7 or something ridiculous.”

akaashi shakes his head, tucks a piece of hair behind his ear and exhales, “i’m not even going to make any promises that i won’t do it again.”

“well, i would never ask that of ya,” osamu says and you can feel how genuine it is and it’s not even pointed at you. 

atsumu shoots you a questioning look, very aware of the silent exchanges between you and osamu. you shoot him back a wide-eyed, excited expression and mouth the word, later to him. atsumu nods back at you, gives you a quick thumbs up, and then continues talking with hinata, sakusa, aran, and suna. 

osamu and akaashi practically don’t talk to anyone else that night, moving over to the quiet corner of the living room. osamu takes it upon himself to drag him into the kitchen, to grab him a drink, to ask him about work, and to tell him that he looks really nice tonight. 

“it’s just because i’m actually freshened up,” akaashi reasons.

“no way.”

“yes way. you usually see me after an 8 hour shift.”

“or maybe it’s just because i always think it, but we’re finally outside of my restaurant and so i can say things like that.”

a pause. “well, i think you look better in your onigiri miya shirt.”

“oh is that so, keiji?”

“yeah. you look good in black.”

“well, i’ll have to keep that in mind.”

now that everyone is here, you’re leaving host mode. everyone is settled. everyone is having their own conversations. everyone looks like they’re genuinely enjoying themselves. you scan the people, the different groups that everyone is forming and then reforming. it’s weird, but deeply moving, to see every single facet of your life come together like this. people that would have otherwise never have met, all together in the same room. interactions that you never could have predicted, going really well. and all within these walls, your walls. 

everyone eats and everyone laughs and you get to show off your new knife to everyone and halfway through the night, atsumu pulls you into his lap and wraps his arms around your waist, and you know that this night was meant to see everyone and mingle, but you’re not sure that you want to move from this very spot for the rest of the night and neither does he. in fact, he orders osamu around from his place at the table, telling osamu to clear the table and to grab the game that’s in the cabinet of the tv stand. 

osamu doesn’t want to listen, really, he doesn’t, but akaashi starts walking towards the tasks before osamu can refuse. akaashi helps clear the dishes and laughs when atsumu starts yelling at osamu for making akaashi do his work and before you know it, everyone is at the table and all of the dishes are in the sink and the food is put away and there is two stacks of cards in the middle of everyone.

“game’s real easy, even samu can play,” atsumu explains, nodding towards the colorful cards. osamu doesn’t even bite back, just seems happy to be sharing a bench with akaashi. “someone draws a question card and they have to answer it or drink unless someone at the table uses their veto card which they can accrue more of by doing the dares in the other card pile, got it?”

everyone nods. “honestly, we’ve never played with this many people or this many veto cards, so it should be interesting,” you say.

“so, basically, no one is getting out of not answering a question,” sakusa replies.

“that is definitely what that means,” aran agrees.

“alright, atsumu should go first,” osamu says, “it’s only fair.”

“fine, fine,” atsumu says, waving his hand, grabbing a card from the pile, “who is the worst dressed person in this room?” he reads. “okay, actually, a lot of them are like this and there are a lot of people here.”

“well, are you going to drink or answer it?” kita asks.

“you gotta answer it,” hinata says.

“well, someone would be stupid to use their veto on this anyway, because it’s obviously iwa,” atsumu answers quickly, shaking his head and throwing the card down. iwaizumi nods in agreement as oikawa stands up in his seat.

“hey! that shirt is the best piece of clothing hajime owns!” oikawa says.

plenty of insults fly across the table as the game continues. atsumu wasn’t lying. a lot of the cards are very similar in nature, just calling out people in the room for various things like being a bad kisser or still being caught up on an ex. no one even has to use a veto card. they’re all harmless enough, poking fun and joking around, or no one cares enough to force someone to answer.

until it’s your turn.

you reach forward, getting out of atsumu’s lap for just a second to draw the card before he’s pulling you back into him. you and atsumu read the question at the same time, but atsumu reacts much quicker than you do, laughing loudly. if he had been drinking something when you pulled the card, he would have made a huge mess.

“what does it say?” maki asks, nosy, trying to peer over your shoulder and at the card before you read it.

you move away from him, cheeks warm, hoping, praying, if there’s a god out there, that no one uses their veto. you move your hand, ready to drink already as you read, “if you could have sex with any of your partner’s friends, who would it be?”

the only people in the room that aren’t laughing are akaashi and kita and even they are giggling and wide eyed at the question. “i’m drinking,” you say, already bringing the cup to your lips.

“not so fast,” oikawa says, slamming his veto card down on the table, “i’m sure i’m not the only person who would have done this anyway. and besides, i can use hajime’s card later if i need it.”

“no, you will not,” iwaizumi scoffs.

“fine, then you want me to take my card back?” oikawa asks.

“no, obviously not, i want to know yn’s answer,” iwaizumi laughs, directing his attention back to you. in fact, everyone’s attention is on you.

“i don’t think this question was designed to be played when every one of my partner’s closest friends are in the same room?” you challenge.

“tough shit, answer the question,” suna says, pointing his finger in your direction.

“right, and to clarify, that doesn’t include people that used to just be your friends like iwa and maki,” issei says, “because then obviously we know your answer would be me.”

you shake your head, ignoring his comment and taking a deep breath, “this is so stupid.”

“come on, ya gotta play the game,” osamu jeers.

atsumu squeezes your waist, pressing a kiss into the back of your shoulder, “yea, babe, you gotta play the game.” you turn your head and narrow your eyes at him. 

“ridiculous that the first thing you two agree on is making me answer this in front of everyone right now,” you scold.

“just get it over with,” atsumu teases, “it’s not hard. even i know it.”

“no you don’t,” you scoff. 

“so there is someone on your mind right now?” maki says, leaning forward as if that will make the answer come faster.

“i-,” you start, but anything that you could think of saying would just dig this hole deeper. “well, i-.”

“come on, just say it,” sakusa pokes.

your eyes flick over to him quickly, face burning, absolutely radiating heat now, you’re sure. and you’re sure that everyone can tell how flustered you’re getting, because there is an obvious answer in your mind, one that’s been in your mind since the moment you met him.

“obviously, it’s bokkun,” you mumble and atsumu, true to his word, does know it. he says the name right alongside you, laughing at how perfectly the syllables align. you and atsumu seem to be the only two people at this table that are expecting this answer because the rest of the table is in an uproar now. symphonies of what?!?!?! and bokuto?!!?! and what about me?!?? arise in stereo. 

“me?” bokuto asks, floored and flustered in a way that affirms your answer perfectly. you’re feeling just as shy as before and everyone is screaming around you and at atsumu and each other and bokuto, but you offer a small nod to bokuto, just to bokuto, and you watch him attempt, and fail, to hide a smile.

after everything calms down, you’re able to play a few more rounds, thankfully not getting any other question that tops that one, not even when you get the question that reads, was your ex good in bed? and you answered a quick yes and then pushed forward. 

the clock is ticking down, the night is getting later and later and as the game is packed up and put back in its safe place beneath the tv, people start to trickle home. hinata and sakusa, issei, kita, aran and suna. you offer goodbyes and thank you for comings and when you walk oikawa, iwaizumi, and maki to the door, you say a very sincere, “i don’t want it to be this long until we do something like this again.”

“come on,” oikawa says, shaking his head, “hajime and i are getting married in less than two months.” oikawa lifts his hand, showing off his dainty ring as if you forgot that they were engaged. 

“shit, it’s already that close?” you ask.

“yea,” oikawa nods along, smiling, “most of those dumbasses are invited too, so, it won’t be long, i promise. it’ll be louder, and i’ll be the happiest i’ve ever been, but it won’t be too long.”

you nod, hugging oikawa tightly and then iwaizumi and then maki. “seriously, thank you guys for coming.”

“wouldn’t miss it for the world,” maki says, smiling, “i’m crashing your guys’ lunch tomorrow, so i’ll see you then.”

“obviously,” you reply, locking the door behind them once they’ve left.

the only people left in your living room that don’t live there are bokuto, akaashi, and osamu. before you can make your way back in there, atsumu grabs your forearm and pulls you into him, kissing you hard, hand cupping your cheek, fingers scratching over your jaw. 

“what was that for?” you ask when he finally pulls away.

“because i can,” he shrugs, and you take that as an okay to start to move again, but he holds you in place, “and because look at this house we own together, isn’t that crazy?”

you laugh, “yes, yes it is.” you wait to see if there’s anything else.

there is.

“and because i trust you more than anything in this world.”

you cock your head. “okay…,” you say, hesitant.

“and if you want to have sex with bokuto tonight, i would be okay with that,” atsumu finishes, proudly unpredictable and awestruckenly trusting. 

you physically have to jump back, unable to process that sentence any other way. “what?!” you ask, loudly, and atsumu can’t stop laughing, shushing you and shaking his head. “no! what?! why would you say that?”

“because i’ve known that you’ve wanted to fuck bokuto our entire relationship and if you want to ask him if he wants to spend the night with us, that would be okay with me,” atsumu says, calmly. way too calmly for what’s coming out of his mouth, you have to admit.

you don’t know what to say. you can barely think or understand what he’s saying, let alone how to respond. “with us?” you ask for clarification.

atsumu nods, “i’m sure he will not be difficult to convince if that’s what you want.”

you’re afraid to ask it because you’re afraid that all of this is just some elaborate joke. or, rather, you’re afraid for only a second after thinking it, because atsumu doesn’t surprise you anymore. he squeezes your forearm, looks you directly in the eyes as you ask, “and it’s something you want?”

“i offered, didn’t i?” he asks back and you nod.

“okay,” you say, nodding again. “i’ll ask him.”

it’s easy enough to pull bokuto aside with osamu and akaashi being as involved in their own conversation as they are. you don’t really know how to approach it, not completely. how do you just ask someone that? but the second that you pull him into the kitchen and away from the few people that are still in your house, he exhales and steps close to you. and it’s not anything that you’ve said all night, it’s just how he’s always acted around you. 

you lean against the counter and he follows, shaking his head and standing right in front of you. “you’ve got a lot of cool friends, y’know that?”

“oh, yea,” you nod, punching his shoulder and then poking your finger into the middle of his chest, “the coolest.” he laughs and you can feel it against the tip of your pointer finger. you can hear murmuring in the living room. it fills up the comfortable spaces of silence. you look up at bokuto, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “i don’t really know how to ask this,” you say back, softly enough so that the people in the other room can’t hear your murmur.

bokuto tilts his head, “what’s up? is everything okay?”

“no, yea, really great,” you say, nodding and then you take a deep breath. just say it, just say it, just say it, just say it, just say it. “would you,” you say, you curl your fingers against his chest, “want to spend the night?”

the first emotion to come to the surface is excitement and then quickly after that confusion hits bokuto’s face much harder, like his mind filled in the blanks, but didn’t let himself get his hopes up. “like…,” he trails off, hoping that you’ll explain further without him having to ask.

you reach forward and tug on his forearm, coaxing him closer to you. “like…,” you say, heart beating violently against your chest. you try to evade his gaze, head down, focusing on the feeling of his soft skin against yours, nails scraping against it eliciting a tiny shiver from bokuto. 

he reaches down, places his finger beneath your chin, and tilts your head upwards. “like?” he asks, eyes evidently flickering down to your lips. it couldn’t be helped, the way your tongue swipes against your lips and your breath catches in your throat. you just nod. 

before his lips meet yours, you both talk at the same time, overlapping one another, but hearing the other perfectly.

“is this okay with atsumu?”

“like, with atsumu too.”

you put both of your hands into bokuto’s hair and he reciprocates quickly, putting both of his hands on either sides of your face and pulling you towards him, lips crashing into his. it’s like he reads your mind, one arm around your waist, one hand bracing the back of your thigh as he props you up on the counter to get closer to you.

you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper into your lips, leaning forward as if there was any space for you to move into. large hands grip onto the fats of your hips, sliding you to the edge of the counter, stomach pressed up against his, arms sliding down his back, fingernails dragging against the fabric of his shirt. 

bokuto pulls away, laughing softly, “so this is why tsum tsum comes into practice complaining about his back.”

“it actually gets much worse than this,” you say back, low and airy, pressing your forehead against his and kissing him once more, quick.

atsumu appears in the archway, leaning against the wall, not an ounce of jealousy on his face, but rather, a very devilish smile. you feel warm regardless, but you don’t make a move to untangle from bo. “so, are you staying the night, bokkun?”

bokuto almost immediately says yes, but then hesitates. “god, yea, i’d really love that, but i-,” he sighs, “i have to make sure akaashi gets home and-”

“i can take akaashi home,” osamu calls from the living room. 

“oh, you don’t have to do that, i can just get an uber or something-,” akaashi dismisses.

“no way,” osamu says, shaking his head. from where atsumu is standing, he can peer around the corner and see his brother’s hand grasped around the back of akaashi’s elbow. “let me take you home, keiji.”

“whose home, samu?” akaashi says so quietly that if you were not actively listening for whatever akaashi’s response is, you would not have heard. you decide that that’s enough eavesdropping, actually, allowing them their private conversation and turning your attention back to bo, having your own private conversation as you repeat atsumu’s question.

“so, are you staying the night, bokkun?” you mimic exactly.

he nods, about to say something else maybe or try to kiss you again, but it’s interrupted very quickly as osamu calls out, “we’re out of here.” you barely have time for bo to help you hop off the counter before osamu and akaashi appear in the archway behind atsumu hand in hand. 

you look directly at their interlocked fingers and akaashi’s pinkish cheeks and you tilt your head at osamu. osamu looks at bokuto’s hand on your hip and your disheveled hair and he tilts his head at you. you decide to call it even. 

you contemplate letting them walk out on their own because there is nothing else in your mind right now than bokuto, atsumu, and a whole bunch of fantasies coming to realization. you don’t do that. you leave bokuto’s grasp, walking towards the front door with akaashi and osamu. atsumu offers a goodbye to akaashi and osamu, unbothered because he’s sure he’ll see osamu a few more times this weekend before he makes his way back home. atsumu is much more concerned with having a very quiet conversation with bokuto.

you only catch bokuto’s concerned, “are you sure about this?” as his head moving back and forth from you to atsumu. and atsumu’s assured, “i’m the one that brought it up.”

“have a safe drive home,” you say to osamu and akaashi at the doorstep. “and a fun rest of your night.”

“yn,” osamu warns, but you just feign ignorance.

“you also have a fun rest of your night, yn,” akaashi says in the same exact tone, tugging on osamu’s hand, placing the other on his bicep. 

“ha!” osamu laughs, turning around and pulling akaashi to the car. it’s like he can’t get out of here fast enough. “thanks for having us!” osamu calls from the car window and then they’re gone. 

when you shut the door, locking it for the last time, you realize how quiet the house is without the different areas of chatter. in fact, you can’t even hear the conversation that you know is happening in your dining room. 

except, there isn’t a conversation happening in your dining room. instead, there is atsumu, the love of your life, the most important person in the world to you making out with bokuto, your closest friend of atsumu’s, the one person you’ve wanted to fuck other than atsumu in the last 4 years. your voice is small, not because you’re timid or embarrassed, but because you think if you speak any louder, a whimper will come alongside it. “can you take me to bed?”

the whimper escapes you anyway as a tiny string of spit connects atsumu and bokuto’s lips and as atsumu looks like he’s trying to regain composure and as he leans over to bokuto and says, “i get to do it all the time, you go ahead.” your stomach is doing a million flips and as bokuto approaches you, your mind goes blank. not that you need it. 

because bokuto picks you up, same hold as before. his touch feels familiar and his grasp feels strong. “i don’t even know where i’m going,” bokuto admits as he reaches the top of the stairs. you gesture in the direction of your bedroom and open the door as he walks close enough to it. he leaves the door open, lays you down on the bed and as if he’s pictured this in his mind a million times, he quickly and assuredly kisses down your clothed chest, lifting up the bottom of your shirt to press kisses into your stomach before sinking onto the floor. 

everything is happening so fast and you cannot explain how grateful you are because you’ve wanted this for so long and you’re finally getting it. bokuto doesn’t waste a second in hooking his arms under your knees, pulling you to the edge of the bed, spreading your legs, and ducking under your skirt. your thighs squeeze the sides of his cheeks as you feel his warm breath between your legs. 

“enjoying yourself, pretty girl?” atsumu asks as he sinks into the bed beside your head, smoothing over your head and lifting your shirt. you can feel both pairs of hands on you independently, but somehow moving in perfect time with each other. it’s overwhelming in the best way. atsumu doesn’t even take your shirt off, just pulls it up far enough for your bra to show and then pulls your bra down enough for your tits to pop out and the way that you are so clothed, but so exposed all at the same time is making you grow warm between your legs. 

you whimper at the question, nodding as atsumu runs his hands down your sides and then back up to your tits and then off of you all at once. without them, you can feel bokuto’s completely, nothing to distract you from how big they feel on the inside of your thighs. with him under your skirt, you can’t see anything at all and you want to watch him, but the fact that you don’t know what’s happening, relying on touch alone, is causing you to flood.

he licks a strip into your panties, harsh enough to cause them to push between your lips, digging his tongue into your hole, slipping past the fabric, thick tongue pushing them out of the way with no help at all. you roll your hips into the sensation. “shit,” you breathe.

so focused on the feeling between your legs, you don’t notice atsumu’s cock until he’s pressing the spongy tip against your slightly parted lips. you turn your head for a better angle, parting your lips further, opening your jaw, and taking him in your mouth. atsumu puts his hands on the back of your head, pulling you onto his cock. you’ve had years and years of practice with this which means atsumu knows your limits and capabilities and he gets to move you however he wants as a result.

bokuto’s hand creeps up your inner thigh as he laps at your clothed pussy, sucking the fabric into his mouth and swallowing all of the accumulated juices before slipping his finger into you. your jaw opens further, moaning around atsumu’s cock involuntarily and atsumu needs to feel that again. “shit, bokkun, ‘m gonna need ya to do whatever ya just did again.”

he laughs against your pussy, adding another finger inside of you and you already feel so full. his fingers are so thick, they’re so fucking thick, like four of your tiny fingers are jammed inside of you in two motions, but they’re longer than your fingers too, can reach so much deeper. you’re squirming on his fingers, moving your hips to fuck yourself on bokuto’s fingers and you can’t help how much your hums and whimpers and whines are effecting atsumu. “holy fuck, don’t stop,” atsumu says, hips pressing forward, hands pulling you onto his cock to meet his thrust. 

the angle is still slightly awkward, hitting the back of your cheek rather than sliding down your perfect, tight throat like he loves so much, so he swings his leg overtop of you, both knees on either side of your head, balls resting on your chin as he lifts your head and places a pillow underneath. “fuck, that’s better, baby,” he says, barely giving you a warning before fucking into your mouth, letting you hollow your cheeks on his head, tiny movements of his hips pulling the tip in and out of your tight lips. 

“she’s close,” bokuto announces into the room, talking about you, not to you, and you tighten around his fingers even more. bokuto pushes his fingers inside of you completely, pulls them out to the tips, pushes inside of you completely, pulls them out to the tips, and then he curls them over and over again, and you come so fucking hard that you can’t even imagine the mess underneath your skirt. 

“so fucking wet,” bokuto says, mumbles against your cunt as he moves your panties to the side, pulls his thick fingers out of you and uses the tip of his tongue to coax the come out of your fluttering hole and down his throat. the lewd sounds are filling the room and your ears even more than the sound of atsumu whining and whimpering watching his cock disappear between your lips.

“shit, fuckin’ mouth feels so goddamn good, fuck,” atsumu growls, pulling you by your hair onto his cock and you can barely breathe, spit drooling out the sides of your mouth and down your chin and neck. his strokes are long and slow, relishing the feeling of his length being squeezed by your tight throat. “gonna fuck yer throat all fucking night. won’t even be able to talk tomorrow.”

“fuck,” bokuto says, “gotta- fuck-” all at once you feel even more fucking full. bokuto slips inside of you without a word, stretching your drenched hole around his huge cock. you can feel it in your fucking guts, so fucking deep, speared. you wrap your legs around his waist, holding him in place because you don’t want to not feel him so fucking deep in you. you need to feel him this deep in you forever. 

you feel the breeze on your stomach, on your sloppy clit, as bokuto pushes your skirt up and out of the way, not that you could see anything anyway with atsumu where he is and his cock destroying your throat how it is. bokuto reaches down, rubbing small circles into your sensitive, swollen, pretty clit with his thumb. “so pretty,” bokuto mumbles.

you pull bokuto closer with your legs, moving your hips to meet him and he understands perfectly, pulling his hips back and slamming into you. his moans are lower than atsumu’s, more grunts than whimpers, and the fact that you can hear them both is making your walls flutter around bokuto’s thick length. “god, so fucking tight,” bokuto praises, “shit.”

“i know,” atsumu replies, rolling his hips, sliding the underside of his cock against your tongue. “feels so fuckin’ good.” he presses forward, pulls your head onto him until his head hits the back of your throat and then he holds you there. you can’t breathe, gagging on his thick head in your throat, but the noises that are coming out of him are well worth it. they always are. you swallow around his length and something breaks in him.

bokuto starts fucking into you faster, harder, the inside of your thighs already sore and very reminiscent of another first time you had. his fingers are gripping into your waist and your fingers are gripping onto the sheets, unsure of where else to put this pure need, unable to reach atsumu’s back or arms. atsumu sees you, hands moving across the bed, looking for somewhere to root as you take all of the abuse that’s coming to you. 

he removes his grip from your hair for a moment, reaching over and grabbing your hand. “pretty girl, hey, baby, here,” he guides your hands to his thighs and tears are streaming from the corners of your eyes because your cunt is throbbing and your throat is burning and you can’t breathe and atsumu is still there to take care of you in ways that you don’t even understand. 

you curl your fingers around his toned thighs and everything feels right in the world, everything feels more manageable. it’s something for you to ground yourself on, the feeling of the soft, toned muscle in your hands, against your fingernails, scraping and digging. “shit, doll, feels good, harder, yea?” you nod, effectively shoving atsumu’s cock down your throat even further. you dig your fingernails into the skin harder, harder, not dragging across, but digging into. “fuck, baby.”

bokuto is fucked out of his mind with the feeling of how tight and perfect you are around him and the exchange that’s happening in front of him with you and atsumu. it’s all so fucking much. he can’t stop pounding into you, fucking as deep as he can, slamming the tops of his thighs against the insides of yours, holding you in place with his large hands spanning over your stomach. “fuck, gonna come,” bokuto breathes, stare not pulling away from the way that atsumu and him are making you feel so used, so good. 

atsumu answers for you because you couldn’t be expected to answer with your mouth as full as it is. “you can come inside,” atsumu says, looking down at your tear-pricked eyes and swollen lips as you hum an affirmative plea. “she wants you to come inside,” he corrects himself. 

“fuck,” bokuto says with a shaky exhale, because he wasn’t exactly expecting that, but it’s exactly what he wanted. 

“and where do you want me to come, pretty?” atsumu asks, relentlessly fucking into your throat. the only air that you’ve gotten is in tiny breaths between harsh strokes and inhales from your nose. you feel lightheaded, but the fact that it’s about to be over is much worse than your inability to get a proper breath. 

you can’t speak so you move your hand from his thigh, dragging your finger down your throat and fuck, if that wasn’t the cutest gesture atsumu had ever seen. there’s a lack of pressure on your chest as atsumu changes positions, leaning forward, bracing himself against the wall as he changes angles so that he can get even deeper in your throat, can fuck your throat like a pretty cunt. 

bokuto watches this unfold and he can’t fucking hold it any longer. it’s so much different than atsumu, the way that bokuto unloads inside of you. he doesn’t still, doesn’t stutter. his hips keep moving at an abusive pace, fucking you even harder than before as stream after stream of his thick come coats your gummy walls. you’re coming around his cock, sobs trying to escape you, but failing because of atsumu’s cock crammed down your throat, heavy balls slapping against your chin with every quick stroke inside of you. 

bokuto’s come is spilling out of you. it was inevitable with how fast he was still fucking you and how much he was coming inside of you. it feels like it’s never ending, coupled right along with the noises that are leaving bokuto, low and needy. even after he’s finished filling you, he stays completely inside of you, breath catching, not ready to pull out just yet. 

atsumu’s cock is throbbing against your tongue, pulsing, leaking, and he shoves it as far as he can fit it and you’re so sure that he’s going to pump his come directly down your throat, but then he pulls out, opening your mouth with his thumb, letting his tongue fall open in hopes that you mimic it and you do. “needa see it all pretty on yer tongue, baby, open, yea, fuck.”

he doesn’t even stroke himself, comes at the sight of you with your tongue out and messy eyes and swollen lips and gasping for air. his thick come doesn’t spray in ropes against the inside of your mouth, it drools onto your tongue. it leaks out of the tip lazily, pooling and collecting on the dip in your tongue until there’s too much to fit and a part of the fat glob slips down the back of your tongue and he grunts, replacing whatever disappeared down your throat. “all of it, baby, suck,” he directs, tilting your head, placing the tip between your lips and coaxing you to suck whatever’s left from his sensitive slit. you do exactly as you're told and as a reward, you get to hear the sob tear from his throat and watch him wipe away the tiny tears that threaten to fall. 

everything is quiet. no one moves for at least two minutes. it takes the entire time for you to catch your breath.

“fuck, shit, i’m sorry i didn’t savor that more,” bokuto breaks the silence, shaking his head, inhale and exhale heavy as he stands up completely, putting his boxers back on.

atsumu takes this as a cue to move as well, getting off of you maybe as he should’ve from the very beginning to help you recover faster. though, you’re actually certain that lack of immediate movement is what allowed you to feel as okay as you do this quickly.

“next time,” you say, or try to say, because it hurts and it comes out shaky and hoarse. atsumu leans down and presses a kiss into your neck and then the side of your face and then your lips. he would be more phased by this if it wasn’t a weekly occurrence. 

“yea, maybe come to town more often,” atsumu says, confirming. 

“don’t say that,” bokuto says, shaking his head, “because i really will.”

“then, maybe come to town more often,” atsumu repeats, a tiny smirk forming on his lips.

“alright,” boktuo affirms. 

atsumu leans down, places a kiss on your forehead. “c’mon, let's get you cleaned up,” he says, helping you up. you don’t try for a thank you or a yes, just give a small nod and move towards the attached bathroom. 

“do you have a guest room or something in this cool big house?” bokuto asks, clearly feeling like he’s invading. 

“we do, but,” atsumu says, walking out of the bathroom, over to the dresser and pulling out a big t-shirt. he disappears into the bathroom again, water running, clothes shuffling, and emerges with your clothes in hand. he throws them into the laundry hamper in the corner of the room. “you’re welcome to spend the night here.”

“oh! no, no, i wouldn’t want to-,” bokuto starts, but is interrupted by the sink running again, teeth brushing, and now he really feels like he’s invading. but then you walk out of the bathroom, as fresh and clean as you can be without having taken a shower, and you wrap your arms around bo’s bicep. the feeling of displacement fades pretty quickly then.

“yea,” atsumu says, hand on the back of his neck, “someone gets a bit clingy after sex.” atsumu nods towards you and you playfully scowl back at him even though you know it is very true. “just until she falls asleep though. in the morning, she’s usually like, tsumu, fuck off, i’m trying to sleep. it’s weird, really.”

“i mean, if you- yea, i’ll stay if you want me to,” bokuto says and looks down at you nodding very convincingly. you walk over to the bed, pulling bokuto along by the arm and you crawl under the covers, laying perfectly in the middle of the bed. this wasn’t the exact use that you thought you would get out of your king size bed, but you can add it to the list of splurge items that are turning out to be very worth it. 

“didja need anything before ya go to bed?” atsumu asks because he knows it’s something that you would ask if you weren’t so unable to ask. bokuto shakes his head no. he can’t imagine needing anything at this moment. “cool.” atsumu shuts the light off and the room goes very dark. 

it’s awkward first, weird for only a few moments, figuring out your place in all of this, and then it just kinda works out. 

huh, reminds you of something.

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[midnightsunnyday]

With Good Intentions (Chapter Three) ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

(Chapter One) (Chapter Two) Masterlist A03

➥pairings: MC & Everyone, MC/Everyone ➥content warnings: Not Beta Read, We Cook Our Stories Like Solomon, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Some Humor, Explicit Language, Not Canon Compliant, Though Sometimes It Is, Fighting, Family Drama, Family Bonding, Emotional Manipulation, Reader-Insert, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Lesson 016 Spoilers, Post Lesson 016, Other Additional Tags To Be Added. ➥summary: after the events of chapter 16, MC learns three important lessons: one, that Diavolo is an asshole. Two, as it turns out, being immortal doesn't make you smarter, wiser, or mature, it just gives you a thousand more chances to be a fuck up and not learn and damn thing from it. And three, that there are no therapists in hell. Though they could really all use one. Or in which MC suffers an existential breakdown and Diavolo and the brothers learn that maybe throwing a party wasn't the best response to someone dying. ➥A/N: hello everyone, it's good to see you again. I hope everyone is doing well and whether you're a return reader or just getting started, thank you for your interest in my story. Work has been kicking my ass, but still we persevere! Anyway, until next time, take care and enjoy this very long chapter.

He could tell his brothers grew tired of it. That whenever the topic of their sister was brought up, Belphegor always felt an underlining exasperation, as if they’d all been over the subject for some time and were only waiting for him to do the same, as if she were nothing more than a ghost who’d overstayed her welcome in the rebuilding of their lives.

Or maybe they were just tired of him. Tired of his whining about her. Tired of his disgust for Diavolo’s ideals. Tired of his hatred of all things human. He barely smiled, barely ate, and slept for most of the day. He wasn’t the “sweet, innocent Belphie” they knew and loved. The one who found wonder in everything around him and whose laugh, though rare now, lit entire rooms. No, something within Belphegor was broken and they’d have to accept that it would never be whole again. Not without Lilith.

But who said death was pleasant? That it was something one should simply get over? Loss never leaves one gentle. It doesn’t decide to remove itself after a month, a year, or centuries after. It stays with you, becoming part of you. Some days it gives you the illusion of respite and on those days you go through life barely noticing the quiet, emptiness of it all.

Yet on other days, it breaks you, leaves you shaking and crying, wishing for your thoughts to cease so you can finally be “normal” again. Grief, also like loss, never comes when the moment is decent, does not give you warning. Grief strikes when it chooses to, replaying the moment of your loss ad nauseam, until the whole of you becomes nothing but a shell of memories, wading away to the tides of time.

Most days Belphegor remembered Lilith. Sometimes it seemed he was the only one who did. He remembered her in lunchrooms when the desserts were particularly sweet. He remembered her in corridors, the kind they’d both raced down as fast as they could. He remembered her in dreams, luring him into the forests they used to play in, with trees as high as the sky and where the wind swept through and made waves of shimmering sunshine. In the distance would be Lilith, the years waning upon her memory, yet she waved as she always did, an insult to every petal, every ray of sun. He would run to her, feel the tears wetting his cheeks, his tongue tripping over her name over and over again: Lilith. Lilith. I’m here. Please.

He remembered blood. Too much of it. The kind that no matter how much you scrubbed yourself raw, the stench would remain clung to you like death. The fall was not a pleasant one; they did not streak across the skies like beautiful jewels, they were burning, dying. The landing nearly killed them, sent the earth running each and which way in disgust of them.

How through it all even the Father, no matter how hard they prayed, was always silent. Maybe he too, saw what was to become of them, and closed his heart and ears to it. It was easier, at least for Belphegor, to believe that he’d simply abandoned them, rather than knowingly allow the pain that would scar them for centuries to come.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

The Celestial Realm had no seasons, but on days when the light was mild and winds smooth for flight, Belphegor and Lilith would sneak amongst the forests, finding shelter under the tall, dense trees. For Raphael, who’d come to search for them in time, the siblings were abandoning their duties, but for Belphegor and Lilith, it was simply a break, albeit a long one.

“Oh, Belphie, he’s simply divine."

Divine. An odd choice of words for a mortal, yet Lilith thought otherwise, not that Belphegor knew enough to object. After all, he’d just learned of the man’s existence a few moons ago, and what he knew was only through her words of him. He wasn’t rich by any means. His family tended animals and sold what they could in the town market. There was a time when the family lived well, but some of the animals were stricken with disease or killed by wolves, and they suffered greatly for it. Even so, this man had “a spirit worth more than all the wealth in the world,” she exclaimed. That despite his awful predicament, he made a way for his family, taking on various forms of labor to keep them fed.

"He's very skilled with his hands." Lilith winked, to which Belphegor pretended to gag. Relations between humans and angels were not unheard of, but ones with the image of his sister he'd rather scrub from memory.

In any case, this man could "literally do anything" and Belphegor sat in awe of this. If all this were true, then Lilith found someone beyond any human he could think of.

Belphegor watched as she twirled about, nearly skipping in her joy, her long hair unfretted and chasing the wind. She was led by a tune only she could hear, her dress gathering at the thick of her sun-kissed legs.

“He’s so polite, a true gentleman,” said Lilith. “He picks me flowers, opens doors, and by Father is he handsome.” She sighed lovingly and clasped her hands against her flushing cheeks. “He could give Lucifer a run for his money, you know?

Belphegor snorted. "A man as beautiful as Lucifer is surely a sight to behold."

"It's true, you know," she said, ignoring his skepticism. "That and he’s strong. Can tend a whole field before sundown without breaking a sweat. Why, I saw him raise two goats on each shoulder and…”

Belphegor rolled his eyes. Though he had no reason to doubt her, his sister found ways to bolster the human past the point of believability, at times. Extravagant. Amazing. Beguiling. Was it even possible that so many adjectives could describe one person? Yet Lilith went on, singing the praises of this fabled man she’d found such importance in.

“He’s just so…so…you understand, don’t you Belphie? How interesting and unique they can be?”

He did. Belphegor loved humans. He found them special, more than most creatures. It was their mundane everyday ways. It was the way they sought purpose from them. It was how they loved and celebrated and burned away life until none was left. Compared to angels, who were created and bound to fates unchanging, mortals were born with the blessing of choice, and it fascinated Belphegor what they did with it. So he watched and soon enough, went to gather in their joy. However, it wasn’t long until his curiosity prompted Lilith’s own, and the young angel began to visit the human realm of her own volition.

While Belphegor didn't fully understand his sister’s ways, he couldn’t help but be drawn into her joy. She’d been struck by Cupid’s arrow, trapped in an endless spring. It’d been beautiful to witness, and while such things didn’t strike him as important before, Belphegor couldn’t help but think of his love, whenever or wherever that might be.

“Belphie, are you even listening to me?”

“Hmm?” He said, led from his thoughts. “What was that?”

“I said Lucifer plans to meet him.”

Belphegor shrugged. “Well, so much for that.”

“I’m serious, Belphie!” She stamped her foot, pouting. “You know how big brother is.”

“Maybe he’ll like him,” Belphegor assured, swallowing his lie. Lucifer wasn’t the best at being impartial, especially when it came to Lilith. She was the youngest, barely new to the world, and he’d sooner have her wrapped up and tucked away than allow any harm to come to her. This man she’d found, without his or any of her sibling's knowledge, was an anomaly, a blind spot in Lucifer’s ever-watchful eye.

“Honestly, he’s always so worried. I told him there was no need, but he insisted.” Lilith’s face fell, eyes widening to some unfounded fate. “What if he doesn’t like him? What if he forbids me from seeing him? Tries to lock me away, key and all? Then what am I to do? I’d have to change my name, hide amongst the humans. We’d be outlaws. Fugitives!"

“Lilly!” Belphegor laughed. She always had a flare for the dramatics. “It’s ok. Lucifer is strict, but I’m sure he’ll come to see him as you do.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I’m sure of it…probably.”

“Oh, you!” she swatted at the air between them. “But you know, maybe you’re right. After all, Lucifer would never do anything to upset me, considering I’m his favorite and all,” she said in a snobbish tone. Lucifer spoiled her. They all spoiled her, really, and it seemed to be rubbing off.

But there was one question Belphegor failed to ask. The most important of them all. “Does he have a name?”

Lilith smiled. “Of course he does, silly. H̵̸̷̶̸̨̡̘̯͇̾̀͋̓̍i̶̴̷̶̷̥̠̬̖͖̋͐̄̎͆s̵̶̷̵̵̢͈̟͕̝̊̌̅̾͒ ̷̵̶̸̵̱͕̦͕͕͑̓̀̍͠n̴̸̸̴̶͈͍͍̯̳̎͛͂̄̏à̵̷̷̷̴͚̟͈̲̃̑̍̾͜m̷̵̵̶̷͉̗̜̗̻̓̀̽̀͝e̴̶̸̷̵͔̻̜̳̣̽̃̋͑͠ ̴̷̵̶̸̧̰̲͙̺̀̃̐͗͑i̶̷̴̷̴͎̪̳̫̬̔́͐̈́͝ş̵̴̴̶̵̠͕̰͕͗̅̅͋̕…̴̷̸̶̵̯͚̲̯̺͐͌̑̔͠

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

“Lucifer! Please, tell them. Tell them they can’t do this!”

Belphegor turned to his brother, who looked as if the world was ending and there was no way to prevent it.

The Father spoke through Michael: Lilith had committed the unpardonable sin, one in which there was no forgiveness. She would be wiped from the face of existence, never to be a part of the cycle of creation again. All this for stealing a fruit, though it was said a simple apple led to Eve’s downfall; what difference would there be for his sister?

Belphegor dug his nails into his palms, neck burning with heat. The Father had refused them council, choosing to lay His judgment through the only other angel he abused more than Lucifer. Did He truly not care for them? Was fighting His battles and upholding His will all they were good for?

“The Father’s word is final,” Michael’s voice was calm, yet short. “Lucifer knows this as well as I do.”

“So you expect us to stand aside and allow our sister to face a fate so cruel?”

“Belphie, please,” Lilith cried, shaking. “It does not matter my end—“

“—But it does matter. You matter.” Belphegor pointed at her with angered assertion. “Not some mortal who was fated to die sooner than you are to blink.”

“Our brother is right, Lilith.” Leviathan shook his head as if trying to unravel what was happening. “Your actions…they make no sense.”

“No,” Lilith spoke, “what makes no sense is a Father who would sit and watch while death and sickness run rampant throughout his creation while having the power to prevent it.”

“How dare she’s” and “heresies” spiraled into the air, forming a tornado of indignation that grew louder and more violent with the need for retribution. Belphegor sneered at the angels who formed a ring of judgment around his sister. It was hard to believe that at one time any of them could be called his brothers and sisters.

“Enough.” It was Raphael, who, unlike Michael, held little reservations in his approach to an otherwise dire situation. “You stand amongst the divine court. Your blasphemy will not be tolerated.”

“Ah, can it,” yelled out Mammon. Someone gasped from the crowd. “You threaten the life of our sister. You better believe we’re gonna cause more than just a ruckus.”

Belphegor looked to Lilith, his eyes imploring her, though there was no answer she could give that would make any sense to him. “Even if he didn’t die today,” he said, “he would’ve died regardless. What then? Why risk your eternity for something so finite?”

Lilith parted her lips as if to form some half-uttered verb. Then she began again, though her mouth did not quiver. She stilled her face, hardened her lips, and spoke her words simply, “For the life of the one I love, I would do anything.”

Belphegor winced, his sister’s words a slap in the face. He would be angry if only there wasn’t so much to go around. What about their love? As if theirs hadn’t outlived kingdoms for her. What love could a being of such little potential possibly give?

It was Beelzebub’s turn to speak, pain shaking his voice. “But…what about us? How could you be so willing to leave us here to grieve you?”

Lilith was quiet, her face turned to some far, distant place. Belphegor wanted to shake her, to wake her from this eternal dream of love that did nothing but harm her.

“There has to be something we can do,” Asmodeus spoke, looking desperately at Michael. “It can’t end like this.”

“And just what do you plan to do to avoid her judgment?” Raphael’s eyebrow rose with his question. “Are any of you willing to take her place?”

They all looked at each other. Not in fear of Raphael’s words, but because neither of them could see themselves as the Father’s children, the remains of their allegiance shattered and pooled in the pit of their stomachs. In the end, what they gained for their loyalty was death, but they would not go without a fight. Finally, Lucifer stepped forward. It was clear to Belphegor that something inside his brother shattered, too. Not broken, but free.

“If the father’s word is law,” he said, “then maybe such laws should be challenged.”

“Be mindful of your next words, brother.” Michael stood with all the caution of a vigilant lion. “Think of the lives of your siblings. Of what you’re sacrificing.”

Lucifer stood, clearly battling himself. Belphegor only wished to know what his brother and Michael were thinking then. Both were close, so much so that they could be mistaken for twins. Maybe they both wanted to see something in the other that was no longer there. By then, Belphegor and his brothers gathered beside the morning star, unwavering. It was clear where their loyalties lay and always would.

As if in understanding, Michael sighed, and drew his blade as if the entire issue were a mere inconvenience. “Don’t make us do this, Lucifer.” Raphael, however, had already summoned his spears.

“You all still have the chance to repent in front of the Father. This will not go without punishment, however.”

“And Lilith?” Asmodeus said, his voice almost hopeful.

“She will leave this plane in peace.”

The once favored son of morning yanked his blade from his sheath and with it t̸̵̵̵̵͙̼̫̗̥̉́̇̈́̈́h̸̶̸̴̴͚͖̥̗̖̊̾̄̒̕e̶̶̸̸̸̻͈͍̗̱͒̆͊̋̒ ̸̵̶̵̵̜̥̭͎̝̑̓̓̀̾h̷̸̶̴̸͓̠͙̹̤͌̄̈́̂̚ḙ̷̸̷̷̸̢̯͖̄̂͂̾̾͜ȧ̴̶̷̴̷̩̯͓̤͋̄͊̍͜v̶̷̸̶̷̧͙̺͇͔̓̇̽̆̔e̴̴̸̴̶̢̖͍̰̫͊̍̔̉̉ņ̶̶̷̴̵̻̣̹͗͊̉͆̎ͅs̴̵̴̵̴̝̻͚̟̖̆́̇̇͠ ̶̸̵̸̶̨̩̞̗̖͒̊̀́̓c̸̴̶̶̶̬̼͎̱͔̈́̏̑͂̑r̶̷̷̴̵̯͚̫͕̳̓̽͂͐͝ĩ̶̶̸̶̷̺̙̠̰͖̏́͆͘e̸̴̸̵̷̹̰͉̫̠̓͌̆̃͂d̸̴̶̶̵̨̻͉̮͕́̈́̈̽̈́.̷̷̵̸̴͓̱̲̘͖̑̓͒̾̕ ̴̸̸̷̴̙̬͉̱͗̉͂̀͂ͅ

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Not once had Belphegor known the smell of blood until that day. It ranked of rusted metal, and it took all within him not to vomit in the middle of battle. An angel he once played with amongst the lilacs of the Celestial Garden fell limp, a sword thrust through his chest. Mammon had done so without hesitation and proceeded to chop the head of another, his strokes quick like thunder strikes.

A scream, this time from his right. It was Beel caked in a thick carnage of blood and feathers. He’d torn through their attempt at a flank, their weapons barely grazing him as he ripped wings from flesh, bodies spiraling towards the earth.

“Look out!” Asmodeus yelled, his shield snapping against metal. Belphegor leaped to the side, a beam of light zipping downward where his body would’ve been, leaving a hole of ozone in its wake. Belphegor raised his bow in return, his arm unsteady. Shakily, he aimed, barely managing to wound the angel who’d gunned for his head.

The realm was drowned in chaos. A frenzy of limbs and wings dancing to the tune of annihilation. He’d only seen Lucifer once, his body burning white as he bathed the battlefield with righteous fury, sending angel after angel toward their doom. Belphegor had only heard stories of Leviathan’s skills in battle; it was another thing to see him flay a throne alive.

“Lilith,” he heard Mammon cry.

“I’m ok,” she called back. A twang of metal after. “Just focus on yourself.”

So many voices, Belphegor thought. It was hard to keep his bearings. He was nowhere near a child of war. He’d never honed a weapon or raised it against another. His purpose was that of a virtue, to spread the word that with faith and hard work, one would gain ever closer to what was promised. But his life had been so easily tossed aside, his diligence made nothing. And now that one was threatened and the other gone, what then would become of him? Of his brothers? For a moment, he stilled, unable to focus on the battle at hand. It was as if all the air had left him, his breaths jagged and choking.

“Belphie!” Beelzebub’s voice rumbled. Belphegor squinted his eyes toward the sky. It was hard to make them out at first, little glints of sunshine that they were, yet as they drew closer, Belphegor saw the sharpened hatred of a thousand arrows bearing down towards him. He turned.

“Lilith,” Belphegor wailed. She’d been near him, maybe trying to call out to him, for that he’d never know. By then the first arrow struck her wing, then another, piercing through her flesh as her body flailed unnaturally. Beelzebub leaped towards him, tucking him deep into his grasp as they fell downward.

From above them rang a cry so loud that it shattered the noise. Lucifer broke through the sky like a roaring flame, barreling downward towards his sister. It was then Mammon who fell after him, then Leviathan, then finally, Asmodeus. Belphegor’s ears filled with a humming static, the world becoming focused and pin-like. He willed his head to gaze at Lilith. She hurdled downward, specks of ash trailing the air as her wings caught flame. With arm outstretched, he reached for her, ţ̴̶̸̷̶̨̛̠̖̤̈́̔̋̌ḫ̸̷̶̴̵̬͉̞̗͑͋̈́̅͝e̵̶̵̷̷̼̮̝̿̀͑̓͗͜͜ ̶̶̶̶̴͓̘͓͎̼̾̋͒̏͝w̸̸̴̷̵̨͈̼̯̞̉̆͆̒̌ơ̶̵̸̷̶͖̠̬͈̻̈́̓̎̽r̴̸̸̴̵͕̘͚̬̩̾̍̑͒̕l̷̵̷̶̸͕̱̜̯̙̑̈̂̎͠d̵̴̶̶̷̡̰̼͇̊̑́̒̾͜ ̵̸̶̷̸̳͙̭̱̂̍͋̓͘͜f̵̶̶̸̷̙̪̘̟̙̊̽͂̾̕ǎ̵̴̸̴̶̪̰̣̳̫̌̓͛̚d̸̶̸̴̴̻̪̘͇̻̒̅͆̀͛ḯ̷̶̴̴̵͙͇̞̲̜̽̈́͆̔n̶̶̴̵̶͇̲̭̰̻̍̾̑͂͘ǧ̷̶̷̶̶̡̺̪̻̦̃̃͌͝ ̶̵̶̶̴͇̗̠͉̣̍̀̆̂̐

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

“What?”

"̸͓͛W̴̻̒ẖ̵͝a̴̖̓t̴͔͝?̸̢̓"̵̢̒ 

“Come again?”

“I said have you calmed down yet?”

Calmed down. As if he were a child who’d thrown a tantrum and was placed in time-out.

“What do you mean?” Belphegor gazed at Lucifer through hair-draped eyes, annoyed at being interrupted by what would’ve been a critical moment of his performance. He’d begun talking to himself. Wasn’t sure when it started, yet if only to break the monotony of his current tenure. In his mind, Belphegor was the sole performer on a brightly lit stage. In front of him, his audience, cheering for his one-night, one-man show.

Ladies and Gentlemen, he’d say, on behalf of the entire circus troupe, I welcome you to one of the most astounding shows you will ever see! I promise you, it will be something truly special, like a wonderful, fleeting vision—“

“--Belphie?” Lucifer called to him.

Oh, right. This asshole. “What?”

“What is it with you in needing things repeated?” Lucifer said. “I told you to use your time in here to calm down and rethink what you said earlier.”

Belphegor spat, rolling his eyes to some corner of the room. If one were to ask his brother, locking Belphegor away was done for his protection. That it was love, not pride or sick devotion, which forced his hand that day. If not by Lucifer, then Diavolo, and if the rumors regarding the castle’s torture dungeon were true, therein lied the many ways of subjecting the seventh born to a fate worse than boredom. If anything, he should be grateful that the only current threat to his health was the admitted lack of ventilation and an idle mind.

Yet if one were to ask Belphegor, he would’ve gladly accepted torture just to spite him, the unyielding screams of the forsaken a welcomed company compared to the horrid solitude of being trapped in a fucking attic.

“In that case, I’m going to be stuck in here forever,” Belphegor said. “Because there’s no way I’m ever going to take back what I said. No way am I ever going to change my mind.”

He was adamant then, on his hatred of humans. The day he learned of Lilith’s death, from Diavolo of all people, was the day any ounce of empathy he had died with him. Once again, the prince would prove to be a never-ending red stain on his sister’s life. Even after death, he found ways to dishonor her memory, if not through the subjugation of his brothers, then through the announcement of his shitty exchange program, one that Belphegor vehemently denounced. Yet Lucifer, being the boot licker he was, had other plans. It was hard to tell how many days passed since then, let alone how long Lucifer planned to keep him here.

Lucifer sighed and gazed over at the canopied bed. Belphegor had found a few Christmas ornaments packed amongst the attic’s boxes--a nutcracker, a gingerbread man, and a tiny reindeer--to act as his makeshift audience. In noticing Lucifer’s quizzical look, Belphegor hissed, literally hissed, at him in embarrassment.

“Oh, calm yourself,” Lucifer said, stifling his amusement with a cough, remembering that the moment was supposed to be serious. Hell forbid it was anything less. “Regardless, we’ve gone ahead and chosen the second student from the human world.”

“Really…Well, that’s awful news,” Belphegor said, stomping over to his bed and smothering his audience with gathered sheets, his skin heated.

“This time it’s not a powerful, elite sorcerer like Solomon, but a regular, average human.” “And why are you telling me this? I’m not interested in hearing about any hu…”

Belphegor’s smile was wide. “Actually, wait. Maybe that’s not true. Bring that human to me right away, Lucifer. I’ll tear them to shreds so tiny that there won’t be anything left of the body or soul when I’m done.”

Maybe being tucked away inside that large castle of his made the prince a bit dull-minded. Solomon was deemed one of the most powerful magic users in the world, one who—without even raising a hand—could turn even the strongest demon to ash.

But a regular human with no power and no way to defend themselves? It was as if the universe simply hated this human, one that would surely shit themselves after being summoned out of thin air to a realm, as far as they knew, should not exist and amongst beings that only lived amongst the pages of their various religions and stories. It was a tragedy waiting to happen and one Belphegor, with quivering hands, planned to bring forward.

“If this precious student from the human world were to meet an end like that,” Belphegor went on, “it would bring this little exchange program to a screeching halt, wouldn’t it? And what’s more, there’s no telling what it might do to Diavolo’s reputation.”

Lucifer observed him with a sort of veiled heatedness. It was clear his tantrum held little weight, but would end it if needed.

“Oh, I know. If you refuse to bring that human to me, then I’ll call them here myself,” Belphegor clasped his hands together, pleased with his plan. “I may not be able to get out of here, but I can certainly lure a single human half-wit to me without much trouble.”

“Impossible,” Lucifer spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.

“And why’s that?” Belphegor raised his brow, his unease growing.

“The door to this room can only be seen by demons. It’s invisible to humans. Also, I put a curse on the stairs leading up here so that no demon other than me can climb them. No one will ever find you, and no one will ever know you’re here, be they human, or demon, or any other creature.”

Of course. Leave it to Mr. Kill Joy to take the fun out of homicide.

Belphegor’s face slumped, sucking his teeth. “You’ve taken quite the precautions, haven’t you? I’m touched that you’d go to such lengths for me, your good for nothing brother.” Lucifer was taller, about a few inches so, but Belphegor met his gaze all the same. “What exactly are you so afraid of Lucifer?”

“I’m afraid of losing my brother,” Lucifer said, quickly and without a hint of dishonesty.

“No, I don’t think that’s it,” Belphegor said. He wouldn’t allow it. To feel sympathy for the devil. Not after losing what mattered most, and what may’ve been his only chance to correct it. He needed to be the one hurting in this situation and needed Lucifer to be as one-dimensional as possible. “What scares you is the thought of disappointing Diavolo, isn’t it?”

Lucifer was…silent. For what, Belphegor wasn’t sure. Was the answer truly that complicated? Maybe there wasn’t anything more to his brother. Maybe he had become nothing more than a loyal lap dog.

Belphegor pounded his foot against the attic’s ancient floorboards, them rattling as if to collapse. “Say something Lucifer,” he yelled. “The old Lucifer wasn’t like this. He wasn’t afraid of what someone else thought of him. He wasn’t pathetic like that.”

“You’re free to think whatever you want, Belphegor. Also…” Lucifer turned towards the attic door, his voice low and solemn, “I’d say you changed as well.”

“Lucifer!” Yet Lucifer would never turn. Never question any part of himself that held weakness.

As the bars to the attic room clanked shut, Belphegor heard his brother’s footsteps trek down the towering staircase and into the house. Once again, he was left alone, spiraling into the silence of the attic.

He wouldn’t mind being tortured at all. Not at the glint of the blade as it sliced his flesh. Not at the blood that pooled from his wounds. Not even as his limbs were torn from his body or flayed alive. The rush of pain and paranoia would keep him, startlingly, sound. At least then he could see what harmed him. Give it a name, his fury. Tell himself that logically, it was ok to cry, scream, and lash about as he was now, smashing mirrors and ripping pillows to shreds.

But in this attic, this fucking horrible attic, there was no one to blame, and it left Belphegor with only his thoughts, screaming over and over: It’s your fault. It’s always been

your fault

YOUR FAULT

It’s always been

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Not my fault. It’s not my fault!

It was a lie, of course. Your death was in motion the moment you appeared in front of him, doe-eyed and disturbingly lax for someone in your position. For all Lucifer’s scheming, he’d forgotten one fine detail: that idleness didn’t weaken sloth, but enabled it.

But it is, Belphie. It's what you did.

He didn't think you were dumb enough to believe his story. A human "just like you" who'd been captured and trapped by Lucifer, yet you proved otherwise. Even when his true identity was revealed, you continued to help him as if the threat hadn't shown itself. Things were moving about too easily; the universe truly did hate you.

No that's not...I did it for you. For us.

Admittedly, he'd wrestled in the corners of his mind about it. Argued until there was nothing left to argue. A part of him had grown to like you, strange, dull-headed thing that you were, but if he weren't to kill you, what then? Would he live his life, seeing you coddle up to his brothers? Eat from their plates and take part in their celebrations? Would you somehow charm Diavolo and have the rest of your ilk invade here? Hell forbid the fools began to fall in love with you, then he’d have to bear witness to some half-assed love story, and that he couldn't live with. So he stilled it down. Beat back the part of him that doubted his conviction. This was for Lilith, always for Lilith, and nothing more.

Oh Belphie, you knew I never wanted this. This was always about you. This was your revenge.

How he killed you was deliberate, too. Strangulation was one of the more intimate forms of death one could give. To do so was to be conscious of your victim’s suffering and to take pleasure in it, having the power of life and death weighted within one’s grip. Humans were fragile. Anything more than disembowelment would be too quick and he needed you to feel it. To know how little your life meant as he wrung every inch of it from you.

Please, I'm sorry. I didn’t know. Didn’t know what they were to you.

He admits enjoying it, laughing as the confusion mangled your face. It didn’t take much to knock you on your back, even less to pin you down. You were so weak. How you managed to survive this long was merely incompetence on his brother’s part. They were fools, too cowardly to do what needed to be done. But not him. He’d end your life and soon any hope of continuing this miserable sham of a program.

It’s not about what they were to me, Belphie. You took a life. And you can never take that back.

You withered and flailed beneath him, trying to lift yourself to no avail. A numbing high swept over Belphegor as he took it all in. The beating of your heart, the sound of wheezing lungs, the sweat that drenched your brow, the bright red of your blood. All the colors and sounds bled into a final point until he was overcome with it, twisting, clenching, enamored in the hues of your dying face. Your eyes bulged and the quakes of your death throes rumbled the floorboards. You clung to him, nails scraping the skin of his wrists. When that didn’t work, you clawed for his eyes. The desperation. The fury. He could laugh, so he does, slamming your head into the floor when you attempt to swipe at his face. Your head bounces forward, then goes limp, throat giving way to a sick crunch. He squeezes tighter, breaking through bone, through artery.

Finally, you stilled and so does he.

He assumed your death would be less monotonous, the fires of euphoria dwindling into barely an ember. A cold realization sweeps over him, sending his body to chill and his empathy to reanimate. No, he won't allow weakness. Not a moment for remorse or sorrow. He shakes them from his mind, putting it up to shock and nothing more.

He gazed at his hands, flexing them, feeling like an outsider in his own body. He sits in silence. The attic does not answer with its usual hum of wood. The house does not creak. Instead, it engulfs him in a sea of quiet, and for a moment he wades in it. Hearing his heart, his breathing, the tiny hiss of air that escapes you. For some reason, he cannot will himself to look at you longer. Your face is uncannily calm, though your neck is twisted into unrecognition, the flesh bruised and mangled.

Now, there was nothing left, but still so much to be done. He wrings you by the collar of your shirt, and it seems an eternity before he reaches the attic door. The attic steps feel smaller and out of focus, the house halls a labyrinth. He’d almost forgotten where the main entrance lay until he heard his brothers, their voices joined in a chorus of "where are they?" and "They should be" and "could be." It's the only time he smiles. Not for his brothers, though it was Beel he missed most, but because he finally, finally would have his audience.

Slowly, as he reaches the landing of the stairway, a thought inches forward. Yet this one he couldn’t shake away. Over and over it repeats itself, almost pleading:

Oh, Belphie.

Belphie.

J̸̸̷̷̴͔̪̗̱̊͑͋̈̚͜ J̸̗͑u̸̼̎s̴̬̔t̴̗͌ ̵̅͜w̵̪͘h̸̥̀a̶̮̓t̵͕̅ ̷̱͊h̸̼͝a̴̛̪v̶͕͆e̷̫̍ ̵̩̈́y̶̲͝o̶̫̕u̷̞̍ ̷͉͌d̵̦̐ọ̸́n̸̪̽e̷̫̓?̸̡́

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Belphegor lurched forward, sweat chilling him to the bone. His dreams were becoming too vivid for his liking. In the corner of his eye sat a large figure, blanketed in the cover of darkness. He blinked. Was he still dreaming?

“What...I...Beel?” He spoke, gasping for breath. How long had he been sitting there?

“It's ok,” Beelzebub said. He sat on the edge of Belphegor’s bed, stroking his shoulder as if to still the chills away. “You had a bad dream.”

“It wasn’t a dream,” Belphegor choked, words rushing from his mouth,” I did it I did all of it I killed Lilith and then I killed them and I…I…“

“Just breathe, Belphie.” But there was nothing Beelzebub could say or do, only wait until the torturous spell was over.

Belphegor placed his hand to his chest, heart beating as if it were going to burst from him and go running off into the world.

In and out. In and out. It didn't help his breathing much, but it made him focus on something other than the panic. Everything felt so heavy like the sky had fallen upon his shoulders.

"It's all...my fault," Belphegor heaved, “my fault.”

In a way, he should be grateful. Lilith lived a long, happy life and that’s all he could ask for. Still, it all felt like a dream and in that moment, he’d forgotten where he was. That the Devildom, despite its idiosyncrasies, was a punishment. That they were damned and whatever fate held for them was often cruel and rarely giving. He knew they were uncomfortable at the party, could feel their quickened breaths rising in an off-tune chorus of sheltered panic. He should’ve helped them, walked them through their spell. Instead, he froze, feeling the judgment heavy in the room, the waves of anger and disappointment hitting him in a heated haze. He watched you run away and with it, his redemption.

“That’s not true, Belphie. Don't blame yourself. If anything...” Beelzebub paused, and Belphegor listened between breaths for the words that never came.

He was about to blame himself again, he thought, yet he could not will himself to assure him otherwise, his breaths still too quick and sharp. Instead, Belphegor buried himself into his twin. If he could not use words, he’d use his actions. Surely Beel, who wrapped his brother in a tight hug, would understand him. Beelzebub, after all, was but a wall to Belphegor’s emotions. Allowing his tears and agony to fall upon him, but never breaking himself. Instead, Beelzebub sat in silence, and together, they rocked each other through the darkness, waiting on the morning hours to break the curse that was Belphegor’s anguish.

Surely, you’d forgive him, he thought. That night at the party meant nothing. That disgusted look you gave him meant nothing.  

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔏𝔞𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢𝔰

Derek Danforth X gn reader

Summary: You were sprawled on opposite sides of the long, luxurious couch, with a beer bottle dangling from his fingers, you in a half-reclined position with one leg bent on the cushion and the other stretched to the floor. The air was thick with boredom, a rare lull in the otherwise frenetic life you both led. To fight it off, you start to respond online to all the annoying messages you receive online on social media. The situation escalated from there on.

Warnings: no pronouns used towards the reader so everyone can read. You and Derek are both high. Lots of curses. Inappropriate photos taken. Fluff. Smut. The parts written like this are comments and replies.

Words count: 4000 words

This can also be found on wattpad and ao3

The flickering light from the TV cast a dim glow in Derek Danforth's opulent living room. You were sprawled on opposite sides of the long, luxurious couch, he with a beer bottle dangling from his fingers, you in a half-reclined position with one leg bent on the cushion and the other stretched to the floor. The air was thick with boredom, a rare lull in the otherwise frenetic life you both led.

Your mind feels foggy, your limbs heavy, as you sink deeper into the couch. Derek, sprawled on the other end, lazily swirls the remaining beer in his bottle. His eyes, usually sharp with cunning, are now half-lidded, reflecting the same clouded haze that envelops you. The drugs have softened the world, and for a moment, the constant pressure of Derek's cutthroat lifestyle is distant and insignificant.

"Is it just me, or does everything feel incredibly dull?" Derek drawls, his words slurring slightly. His voice cuts through the comfortable silence, tinged with the kind of boredom that only comes with too much money and too much time.

You chuckle softly, nodding in agreement. "You'd think with all the money and power you have, things would be more exciting," you reply, your voice carrying a dreamy quality. The world feels both larger and smaller, possibilities seeming endless yet out of reach.

He snorts, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he props his head on his hand. "Right? Here we are, in the middle of everything, and still bored out of our minds."

"Hey, why don't we head to the bedroom? Find something a bit more fun to do?" you suggest, the monotony starting to wear you down. He makes no effort to hide his gaze as it trails down your legs, unabashed. A noticeable tent forms in his pants.

A slow grin spreading across his face as he raises his hand, gesturing for you to come closer. But just as you start to rise, your phone buzzes, breaking the moment.

You groan in exasperation, rolling your eyes. Derek's curiosity is piqued. "Who is it?" he asks, his voice tinged with irritation and a hint of jealousy.

"It's just another one of those idiots who won't stop messaging me on social media," you reply, rolling your eyes.

His interest deepens, and he leans forward slightly. "Let's see them," he says, the command clear in his tone.

You crawl towards him on the couch, moving into a sitting position against him while you show your phone to him.

You open your message requests, and together, you start to sift through the chaos.

The first message that catches your eye is from a persistent guy who begs for money.

Opening the chat, you see how the messages where sent every day at the same hour.

"Look at this one," you say, holding your phone out for Derek to see.

“Every. Single. Day. This guy, wakes up, and he knows he has to come at the same fucking hour to bust my balls with those stupid messages,” you said with a tone that mixed amusement and annoyance.

Derek laughed while his left hand held you tightly around the waist.

"Look at this," you say, showing Derek the message.

Please, can you send me some money? I really need it!

Hey, can you send me $100? I really need it. Promise I'll pay you back!

Hey! I need $3 to buy a new skin in my game. Help a friend out?

My cat needs a new toy. Can you send $7?

"Those are for sure some dumb teenager doing it for laughs with his friends."

"Let's mess with him, reply with something ridiculous.” he says, his eyes gleaming. You start typing something, glad you were capable to entertain Derek.

Sure, I'll send you a cent for every brain cell you're missing. Should be enough for a candy bar.

Derek laughs harder, his amusement growing. "Perfect. Hit send."

The next chat you had in the list was just a video sent by someone. It was all black and it still needed to be download.

Derek has placed his head on your shoulder, deeply invested on your phone’s screen. One of his legs bouncing up and down while his dirty blonde hair lightly tickled your face.

You clicked on the video and it started to load.

Only 20 seconds long.

A car was moving down a hill, the road engulfed in green-

Oh fuck! Not this video.

Derek hasn’t reacted the slightest.

Has he really never watched this video online? No friends of his pranked him with this?

He watches intently, and when the screaming monster appears, he jumps, curses, and pushes you slightly on the arm.

You laugh heartily, resting your head on his shoulder, the shared moment of amusement breaking the tedium.

"You're such an ass," he chuckles, his tone a mix of annoyance and amusement.

“I couldn’t resist! Your reaction was priceless!” With a playful grin you then gently nudge him with the back of your arm. “Look at those pests!”

You come across several messages from people judging your relationship with Derek.

You're only with Derek for his money. Admit it.

"What should we say to these jealous losers?" Derek asks, his tone dripping with disdain.

“Let me handle this” you said confidently, slowly tilting your head to one side, feeling the gentle pull along the opposite side of your neck.

You rolled your head forward, chin tucking into their chest, and continue the motion to the other side, creating a smooth, circular movement. A series of soft, crunchy sounds followed your actions. The muscles and tendons in their neck elongate and contract with each motion, providing a sense of relief.

Absolutely! Do you think he could buy me a yacht next? I'm running out of closet space for my shoes

Derek laughs, "I'd totally get you a yacht if you asked. Just say the word."

You grin back at him, "I know, but then I'd need a matching island. Can you manage that too, Mr. CEO?"

Derek looks at you with a mocking grin. "So it is true that you’re with me just for the money?"

You play along, nodding exaggeratedly.

"Absolutely. I'm just here to drain your bank account and live a life of luxury"

You and Derek burst into uncontrollable laughter, the kind that makes your stomach ache and your cheeks hurt.

Derek’s eyes are watering as he tries to catch his breath. “I can’t believe what we are doing,” he manages to gasp between fits of laughter.

You clutch your sides, trying to calm down. “People are going to think we’re insane.” Your eyes are watering, and your stomach muscles are starting to ache from the constant convulsions.

Derek wipes a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “If they can’t take a joke, that’s their problem.”

You both take a moment to breathe deeply, the laughter slowly subsiding. “Okay, okay,” you say, finally regaining some composure.

“Let’s see what other gems people have sent us.”

Derek nods, still grinning. “Bring it on. I’m ready for anything now.”

You're just another pretty face with no brains. Bet your boyfriend gets bored of you quickly.

Your brain almost instantly created a reply for this douche, your fingers dancing on the keyboard of your phone.

Brains? Who needs them when you have a face like mine? Oh wait, I've got both. Lucky me

Derek grins, "And lucky me. Beauty and brains in one package."

You laugh at Derek’s comment, feeling a warm blush spread across your cheeks. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” you tease, nudging him playfully.

Derek chuckles, “Just speaking the truth. Now, let’s see what else we’ve got here.”

You blocked this person, your fingers now memorized the series of buttons to press as you rapidly exit the chat and scroll through the messages, spotting another one that caught your eye.

You're nothing but Derek's plaything. Hope you enjoy being used.

You and Derek exchange a glance, and then both burst into uncontrollable laughter. The absurdity of the message, combined with the haze of your high, makes it impossible to take seriously.

Derek, still chuckling, says, “Wow, someone really thinks they’re clever, huh? What a joke.”

You giggle, wiping tears from your eyes. “Seriously, do they think we’re going to be offended by this? It’s just sad.”

Derek nods, his grin widening. “Yeah, it’s like, ‘Oh no, someone on the internet doesn’t like us!’ Whatever will we do?”

You both dissolve into laughter again, the ridiculousness of the situation making it even funnier. “I mean, if being your ‘plaything’ means getting to hang out with you, then sign me up,” you say, still giggling.

Derek smirks, “And if being ‘used’ means having a great time together, then I’m guilty as charged.”

“Watch this” you nudged him playfully while you started to type a perfect reply.

I do! He's quite generous with his toys. Ever tried a private jet or a penthouse suite? Didn't think so

The sound of your laughter is infectious, you could feel your cheeks beginning to burn and tighten from the sheer effort of smiling and laughing so hard.

“I’m just astonished by how people can’t mind their own fucking business”

Your facial muscles protest against the prolonged workout.

Derek roars with laughter, clearly enjoying the banter.

Despite the discomfort, you can’t stop laughing, and every time you try to catch your breath, something funny happens again, reigniting the laughter.

Derek's curiosity gets the better of him, and he starts fumbling for his own phone, struggling slightly due to his inebriated state.

“Your phone is always glued to your hands, how you did you even lost it?” You giggled while looking around on the couch.

“it got jealous of how much attention I gave you.”

You help him locate his phone, and he starts scrolling through his own inbox.

"I bet I have some of these idiots messaging me too," he says, struggling because he's a bit high. He mumbles, his fingers clumsy on the screen.

Sure enough, Derek finds a treasure trove of messages from people trying to get his attention. He reads a few aloud, his eyes widening with disbelief and amusement. "Listen to this one," he says, his voice dripping with disdain.

*I desperately need your help to pay my rent. Please, sir*

You burst out laughing again. “Oh my god, do people really think that’s going to work?” you say, clutching your stomach.

Derek shakes his head, still chuckling.

“Apparently. I mean, come on, at least be creative if you’re going to beg for money.”

You giggle, “Yeah, like, ‘Hey, I need money to fund my dream of becoming a professional couch potato.’”

Derek laughs even harder, nearly dropping his phone and spilling his beer. “Exactly! At least that would be entertaining.”

What do they think I am, a charity?

Together, you navigate his inbox, finding messages from people trying to ingratiate themselves with him or begging for favors. His responses are curt and scornful, reflecting his disdain for those he considers beneath him. Each sarcastic reply and biting remark from Derek sends you both into fits of laughter, the absurdity of the situation providing endless entertainment.

It was absurd the amount of people who texted him for some money.

One message catches Derek's attention. A request for money, predictably coming from someone with a flimsy excuse and a generic sob story. Derek's eyes light up with mischief, and he suddenly leaps off the couch with surprising agility.

"I've got an idea!" he exclaims, his voice slightly slurred but full of energy. You watch as he disappears momentarily into another room.

He returns with a wad of cash, a manic grin on his face. "Let's show them what it's like to ask Derek Danforth for money!"

He throws open the large windows overlooking the sprawling city below. You follow eagerly, a mix of excitement and bewilderment coursing through you as you realize what he's about to do.

"Are you serious?" you ask, giggling uncontrollably, the absurdity of the situation heightened by the substances in your system.

"Watch this," he says, still grinning. He holds up his phone, recording himself in selfie mode. "To all you lovely people asking for my money, here you go!" With a dramatic gesture, he begins tossing bills out the window, the wind catching them and scattering them across the cityscape below.

The two of you burst into laughter, your sides aching as you double over, watching the spectacle unfold. Derek can't hold back a huge grin, his laughter infectious and carefree.

"Consider it a donation to the air fund!" He shouts into the camera, tears of laughter streaming down your cheeks. "And to whoever finds it first!"

He sits back on the couch, gesturing with a lazy wave of his hand for you to join him. You slide over, nestling close to him, feeling his warmth as he pulls you tight against his side. His hand rubs your waist gently, a comforting and familiar gesture that makes you feel lightheaded and content, the substances in your system amplifying the sensation.

Derek ends the recording grinning widely. You can feel the vibrations of his laughter as it rumbles through his chest, his amusement infectious.

Sitting there, enveloped by Derek's warmth and the shared hilarity of the moment, you feel a profound sense of camaraderie. The laughter you're sharing becomes a highlight of your evening, a memory you know you'li treasure.

"You know," he says, still chuckling, "this is the most fun l've had in weeks. Maybe we should make this a regular thing."

"Reading and mocking my messages?" you ask, amused by the idea.

"Why not?" he replies with a mischievous grin. "It's better than dealing with all the idiots at work. Let’s see if we missed any important messages while we were having fun.”

You and Derek kept scrolling through the endless messages on your phone, one particularly haughty comment catches your eye. "Look at this one, the final boss" you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you read aloud.

It's so unprofessional to sleep with your boss, especially with those photos that you take with him. People like you give hard-working people a bad name.

Derek snorts, his expression a mix of amusement and disdain.

"Unprofessional, huh? Who does this guy think he is?" He leans closer, his stumble scratching your cheek. "What photo is he even talking about?"

You both rack your brains, trying to recall what could have sparked such a message. Derek's eyes narrow as he tries to remember. "Was it the photo of you sitting on my lap at that party?" he asks, his brow furrowing in thought.

You shake your head, recalling the night in question. Those damn paparazzi. "Nah, it was of two months ago and it one got deleted almost instantly by your mother. Maybe he saw the one where you put me on top of that table and we were making out?"

Derek's eyes light up with mischief, a slow grin spreading across his face. "You still have that photo?"

"Of course I do," you reply, smirking as you scroll through your gallery.

"Send it to me now," he orders, the command clear in his voice. You begin to follow his instructions, but Derek suddenly grabs your phone from your hands, his eyes sparkling with a new idea. "And about this asshole, I have an idea."

"What are you planning?" you ask, intrigued.

"Just follow my lead," Derek says with a devilish smile. He pulls you closer, and you think he's about to take a selfie of the two of you kissing. But as his rough hand cups your chin, guiding you into a kiss, you feel his other hand taking your wrist and placing it on his clothed dick.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you realize he's lowered his phone just enough to capture the provocative scene.

He snaps the photo, his middle finger prominently displayed alongside your shocked expression. Derek laughs loudly at your reaction, his amusement filling the room. You can't help but join in, the absurdity of the situation breaking any remaining tension.

"You're insane," you say between fits of laughter, leaning against him.

Derek grins, a wicked gleam in his eye. "Insane, but effective. Let's send this to that arrogant prick."

You both wheeze with laughter as you attach the photo to the message and hit send. Without missing a beat, you block the guy permanently, your chuckles filling the room.

The camaraderie in your shared mischief is palpable, a stark contrast to the dark and twisted world you both inhabit.

Derek then tosses your phone to the other side of the couch. "Hey!" you protest, but your words are cut off as he pulls you into a quick, hungry kiss.

His lips are demanding, his hands possessive, as if he's claiming you all over again.

Derek shifts, pulling you into his lap so you're straddling him, your knees pressing into the couch on either side of his hips. The new position brings you even closer, and you can feel the heat of his body through your clothes. His hands roam your back, pulling you tighter against him as the kiss becomes a battle for dominance.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. "So, about that fun you proposed earlier..." His voice is a low growl, sending shivers down your spine. The playful banter and shared mockery have only intensified the chemistry between you.

The room is filled with a charged silence, the soft hum of the city outside barely penetrating the intimate bubble you and Derek have created on the couch. The air between you crackles with a palpable electricity, every breath, every touch, every shared glance a spark that ignites the flames of your desire.

Derek's hands, warm and confident, trail over your skin with a possessive tenderness that sends shivers down your spine. His fingers trace the curve of your waist, the dip of your back, exploring you with a reverence that speaks volumes of the depth of his feelings. You respond in kind, your hands mapping the hard planes of his chest, the sinews of his arms, committing every inch of him to memory.

As your lips meet again, the kiss deepens, growing more fervent, more insistent.

Derek's mouth moves with a hunger that mirrors your own, his tongue dancing with yours in a passionate ballet. The taste of him- whiskey, smoke, and something uniquely Derek-intoxicates you, pulling you deeper into the vortex of your shared passion.

With a sudden, fluid motion, Derek flips you from his lap, pinning you beneath him on the couch. The shift is so seamless, so graceful, it leaves you breathless. He hovers above you, his eyes dark with a mix of lust and something deeper, more profound. The weight of his body presses down on you, grounding you, anchoring you in this moment of intense connection.

"Can you believe the things people send us?" you murmur, a laugh bubbling up even as your breath quickens with anticipation.

Derek grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "People are ridiculous," he agrees, his voice a low rumble. "Jealousy and stupidity seem to be in endless supply."

You giggle, the sound light and carefree, a sharp contrast to the intensity of your physical connection. "All those messages, people thinking they can get to us."

His hands find your legs, lifting them and wrapping them around his waist.

The movement pulls him closer, your bodies aligning perfectly, the heat between you a tangible force, You cling to him, your arms encircling his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you draw him even nearer.

He shakes his head, lowering his lips to your neck, kissing a line of fire down to your collarbone. "They're jealous because they see what we have and want it for themselves," he says between kisses.

"Let them be jealous," you whisper, arching your back as his mouth continues its journey. "We only need each other."

Derek's gaze locks onto yours, and in that moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. The raw emotion in his eyes is mirrored in your own, a silent exchange that speaks of the depth of your bond. He lowers his head, his lips brushing against your neck, your collarbone, each kiss a brand that sears his presence into your very soul.

The rhythm of your breathing synchronizes, the rise and fall of your chests a harmonious dance. Derek's hands roam your body with a slow, deliberate purpose, exploring every inch of you with a reverent hunger. His touch is both a question and an answer, a promise and a plea, as he seeks to merge not just your bodies but your very beings.

You arch against him, your body responding instinctively to his, every nerve ending aflame with desire. The couch beneath you seems to melt away, leaving you suspended in a world of pure sensation, where nothing exists but the exquisite pleasure of being with him. Your movements are a symphony of passion, each touch, each kiss, each whispered word a note in the melody of your love.

As Derek enters you, the world seems to hold its breath, the moment stretching into eternity. The sensation is overwhelming, a rush of heat and light that engulfs you, binding you together in a way that transcends the physical. You gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you cling to him, your bodies moving in perfect harmony.

The rhythm of your lovemaking is a primal, instinctive dance, a perfect union of flesh and spirit. Every thrust, every caress, every shared breath brings you closer, your bodies melding together in an ecstasy that defies description. The intensity of your connection is almost too much to bear, a bright, burning star that consumes you both in its fiery embrace.

"You know what's funny?" he asks, his voice a husky whisper as he moves within you.

"What?" you manage to gasp out, each word a struggle against the rising tide of pleasure.

"That they think they can touch this," he says, his lips curving into a wicked smile. "As if they could ever come between us."

You laugh, the sound blending with a moan as his movements bring you closer to the edge. "They have no idea."

"Exactly," he agrees, his pace quickening, driving you both higher. "They can't even imagine."

"And those comments about you and me," you say, your breath hitching as a

particularly deep thrust sends waves of pleasure through you, "like they know anything about us."

Derek chuckles, a low, throaty sound that reverberates through your body. "They're just envious. They see us together and want what we have, but they don't understand it. They never will."

You nod, your fingers clutching at his back, your nails leaving crescents in his skin. "They don't know the half of it," you manage, your voice a mix of laughter and breathless need.

Derek's eyes soften, a rare vulnerability shining through. "We've been through so much," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "And look at us now. Stronger than ever."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, not from sadness, but from the overwhelming emotion of the moment. "I love you," you whisper, your voice trembling with the sincerity of your words.

You arch against him, your body responding instinctively to his, every nerve ending aflame with desire. The couch beneath you seems to melt away, leaving you suspended in a world of pure sensation, where nothing exists but the exquisite pleasure of being with him. Your movements are a symphony of passion, each touch, each kiss, each whispered word a note in the melody of your love.

As you reach the peak of your pleasure, the world around you dissolves into a blinding white light, a symphony of sensation that leaves you trembling in its wake. Derek's name escapes your lips in a breathless whisper, a prayer, a benediction, as you shatter in his arms. He follows you moments later, his own release a powerful surge that leaves you both spent and breathless.

For a long moment, you lie there, entangled in each other, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of your shared climax. The room around you is silent, the only sound is the soft, mingled breaths of two souls who have become one. Derek's weight is a comforting presence above you, his warmth seeping into your skin, his heartbeat a steady rhythm that lulls you into a state of blissful contentment.

Slowly, reality begins to seep back in, the edges of the world sharpening into focus. Derek lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours with a look of tender amazement. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

"I love you," he whispers, the words a sacred vow.

"I love you too," you reply, your voice trembling with the depth of your emotions.

Derek smiles, a soft, genuine smile that transforms his usually hardened features. He leans down, capturing your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss that seals your bond. As he pulls back, you see the promise in his eyes, the unspoken commitment to face whatever comes next together.

The night stretches on, and as you lie there, wrapped in the warmth of Derek's embrace, you know that you've found something truly extraordinary.

Derek's arm is draped over you, his breathing steady and relaxed as he dozes beside you. You find yourself staring at the ceiling, your mind drifting to the aftermath of the evening's antics. The reckless messages, the bold selfie, the outrageous video-all flashing through your mind like a highlight reel of rebellion.

A small smile tugs at your lips as you think about the chaos you and Derek unleashed online. You know that if his mother, President Jessica Danforth, were to discover what the two of you had done, she would be far from pleased. The thought of her disapproving gaze and the inevitable lecture about responsibility and propriety flits through your mind.

But lying here, wrapped in Derek's embrace, you can't bring yourself to regret any of it. There's a thrill in the defiance, a sense of freedom that comes with throwing caution to the wind and living in the moment. The laughter you shared, makes it all worthwhile.

Derek stirs slightly, pulling you closer. You nestle against him, savoring the warmth and the closeness.

Whatever consequences might come, they seem distant and unimportant in the face of the connection you share with him.

[denzelhart]

His delighted star (2)

Summary: You couldn't sleep due to the last mission. To make it even worse, you had a training session in the morning, after a while you tried to go back to sleep. You have given up, which leads you to making coffee to stay away. That's when you meet Ghost and Soap there. Feels nice to have some company, right?

Warning: Swearing, some fluff?, mentions of death, Soap being the matchmaker (maybe), kinda rush, You have a friend name Tobas, Reader has no pronouns.

- C/n: Code name.

- L/n: Last name.

Wordcount: 1.6k

Note: This is a male reader fic but can be read as gender neutral! There might be some error grammar because English isn't my first language and this is my first time writing fic! Hope you enjoy!

Thank you for reading the last fic! I didn't think you guys would enjoyed that much ( ；∀；)

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Male!reader

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

How much time has passed? You don’t even know anymore. 

It's now three in the morning, you couldn't have a good sleep or nap since that long ass mission, perhaps that's what you pay for sitting goddamn too long even though it weren't your fault.

To make it even worse, you have a training session with the team in the morning. Yet you're still here, eyes wide open, don't know when the sun will rise. You can try or even force yourself to go back to sleep so you won't fall asleep while doing the training, rolling back and forth or maybe counting to hundred will make you fall asleep, yeah it's a good idea. It's not.

What time is it now? Four fifteen, what have you been doing? You might be counted to a thousand or more. Even now, you can't sleep or even rest a bit. Although, your sleep schedule is so little, it didn't bother you much but it became a habit. 

A habit that isn't good for your health.

You got up from the bed after giving up on falling back to sleep, you decided to make coffee or tea to keep your eyes open while you can, maybe find some food in case you're hungry or just want something to chew in your mouth. Put on your hoodie since it'll be cold in the hallway at this time, begin to walk out your room along with go down the hallway in the base to find the kitchen in the darkness. 

Usually it'll always be packed with people walking around, chatting,.. That's only at noon, sometimes in the evening when they have finished their training, now it's only an empty hallway with a little light left turn on for anyone going to the bathroom.

Only a few more steps before you reach the kitchen, little walks like this calm your mind a bit. After a full week, stress out the amount of paperwork that you have to deal with, which has been given the last week. You wanted to finish for so long but you were uninterested in doing those, especially when you hated those boring papers the most. You just kept delaying until the deadline started coming. It always fuck up at the last moment but you already done with it. 

Kind of?

Price doesn't like it when you work half-heartedly. However, you still get your paper stuff done and that's out of the way. You're already in the kitchen while lost in those thoughts about paper works. You hate them, that's fine no one likes it anyways. 

Or maybe it's just you who hated doing paper stuff.

Walk over to the cabinets to find some coffee since it's already run out of tea bags. When you're busy making coffee, you don't notice another silhouette already in the room, looking at you. "Making coffee this early?" You startled, turn around only to see him.

Ghost.

"Ghost, you scared me." You smile and complain a bit, holding onto your cup while waiting for the kettle to boil. Seems like you aren't the only one who is awake. "Can't sleep?" His tired eyes looking at your figure. You shake your head. "No." Silent covers the whole kitchen, the only sound you can hear is the boiling kettle. "You want some coffee?" Didn't look at his direction, hand grabbing another cup knowing what the answer is but still asked him. "Sure." he said.

Hand move quickly making some coffee for the both of you, until you startle a bit by a hand on your back moving slowly up and down through the fabric of your hoodie like trying to give you some comfort after having trouble going back to sleep.

His hand was warm, it felt nice, relaxed and safe. Feeling someone's presence was there, giving you some or little affection after a hard time sleeping. Not just anyone can do that to you. Well, sometimes the team gives you some feeling of a loving family. Ghost sure is something else, the mysterious man with a skull face. You didn't expect him, the one who gives you these types of feelings is him, Simon. 

To get used to his affection and physical contact, it takes you a lot of time and effort to not get startled from Ghost's affection. Eventually you begin to like them, even it took you long enough to finally catch some feelings for your Lieutenant. No warning or a sign, it just calmly came to you.

But it wasn't any feelings, it was love.

The ways he shows you his affection make you feel like home. That’s why you love him, when he was around, you couldn't help yourself by looking at Ghost until he started catching your gaze. It's kinda funny how you try to grab his attention by staring at him.

Tobas was right, you do love him and it's bullshit to keep denying your feelings. Loving someone was hard and loving someone who has a job like you and him was even harder, especially when you both don't know when you're going to die in war. Maybe today the two of you still talk to each other normally, the next day the only thing left behind was a dog tag on the battlefield. It makes you afraid of opening for a new relationship.

Does someone like you deserve to be loved? You don’t know, maybe your father was right, maybe you didn’t deserve to be loved.

Pushing the feelings down is the only way to forget what he has done to you and the feelings you shouldn't have in order to maintain the relationship of a Lieutenant and a Sergeant.

"C/n, you good? You're awfully quiet today."

The voice just snaps you out of your thoughts, your hand still holding two cups of coffee, the warm hand still on your back to close off your distance between you and Ghost. "It's nothing, I just got tired, that's all." You gave him a smile. "Got something in your mind?" he asked, eyes still on the figure next to him. "Nah, maybe a bunch of numbers I counted just to go back to sleep." You lied but it seemed like it worked when you heard him chuckle.

Handing him the cup of coffee you just made, while taking a sip of your cup. "Here's your coffee." You looked at him. "Thanks" He takes a sip of the cup then takes his hand off your back. You kinda miss that warmth.

"No problem." You smile at him.

Other silence covers the room. "I'll be in my room if you need me anything." "Alright, see you at the training." You added, all you got back was the nod from the skull mask guy. Watching him walk out the kitchen, left you alone enjoying your coffee. Just when you think you're alone, a voice comes up.

"Enjoying morning coffee together?" Soap chuckled at the figure taking a sip of the cup. You didn't know Soap would get up this early in the morning so the first you greeted him was startled, again. "Gosh, you and Ghost are always startling me." You scolded at Soap. "Why me? you two always hang out with each other." He chuckled while checking on the refrigerator to look for some food. Feeling comfortable in each other's presence until..

"Everyone starts thinking you two were dating." He looks at you, closing the refrigerator after finding nothing inside. "Really? I thought these rumors already started a few months ago." You said while laughing a bit. "Yes it does, but you two can make the rumors come true tho." the Scottish teased. "I don't think so. If he does, it's just a temporary feeling or he might just be confused." You denied even though there is a smile on your face, stare down the cup that almost got empty.

"You do know that he already passed that kind of age, right?" He sighed. "Yes, I'm just looking for an excuse, am I..?" You blurted, feeling dumb for using that excuse to defend your feelings about him. "Yes, you are. And that's the dumbest excuse I have ever heard of." the other man laughed which made you embarrassed about it. Knowing you can't be denied anymore.

"Alright alright, I know you have feelings for Ghost. You don't have to hide it." Soap responded after laughing for a while. "What, how did you know?" You look at the Scottish man with a confused face. “Maybe the other didn’t notice but I saw the way you two look at each other. It's kinda obvious, C/n.” He said “And I might have asked your friend Tobas about how you feel with Ghost." He added. Goddamn it that fucker, always snitching on you "That fucker.." You mumbled. "But hey! Maybe you can ask him out for some drink." looking at the other figure putting down the cup on the counter.

"Don't know, mate. He might rejected me." You then turn around and wash the cup you just made coffee out of. "C'mon, I know him. I bet he won't turn down that sweet offer of yours." Soap pat on your shoulder and chuckled. While you're trying to wash the damn cup. "I'll consider it." You said jokingly "That's our mate!" he nudged your shoulder with a laugh. You just stand there, drying your hand. 

"Let's see how it goes, well I'll better get ready for the training. See ya later, Sergeant L/n." All you did was give him nod and the Scottish man left you with chuckled, walked out of the kitchen and leaving you alone. Again.

It's already five, still early for training so might as well get ready. Walking out of the kitchen to your room, knowing what you should do in the morning and Soap advice about Ghost making you more nervous then ever.

Until then, you need to do something with that fucker Tobas for snitching on you.

Let's see how it goes then.

To be continued..

[ghouligancentral]

But I'm a Monster

Rain x reader rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Summary: Rain struggles to see himself as anything other than a monster. He is terrified of what you would think of him if he ever got rough with you. However, you know that Rain is not a monster and you are determined to prove it to him.

AFAB-Reader They/them pronouns

A/N-

Ghouligans-

Oh boy. This one was originally supposed to be a short little smutty story but it turned into something different. Just prepare yourselves, this one gets kinda sad. This one is a little longer than my usual but it is worth it. Smut is in between the *********. So please enjoy and as always feel free to leave any comments or future work ideas.

(also this touches on some body image issues ( rain has issues accepting himself), so if this really bothers you (or you are just here for the smut) you can skip to the *******. It's not really bad but I know it bothers some people. ) Please do not read if you are under 18 or do not want to read NSFW content. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN CONTENT CONSUMPTION. I do not tag my word as nsfw because I don't like how tumblr's tags work.

You walk out into the main area of the ghoul dens to find Rain and Dewdrop talking on the couch. You can already tell Dewdrop is teasing Rain from the smug look on his face. 

“Oh hey babe!” Dewdrop calls to you while motioning for you to come over to them. You can tell something is up by the rising blush on Rain’s face. 

“What’s up you two?” You inquire as you plop yourself down beside Rain on the plush couch. 

“Well we were just talking about—-“ Dew begins.

“Dew stop it!” Rain interjects, giving Dew’s shoulder a smack. 

”how this guy right here,” Dew says grabbing Rain’s shoulders,” is a fucking beast in the bedroom.  And how you haven’t gotten to experience ‘the beast’ yet.” Dew lets out a sly grin as Rain groans and hides his face in his hands. You can see the blush spreading up to his ears. 

“Oh really?” You ask, eyeing a very embarrassed Rain. While you had been with all of the ghouls before, you had never had any rough encounters with Rain. When the two of you were together there was always at least one other ghoul present, and he always treated you gently, almost too gently. Rain peaks through his fingers to look at you.

“No. Ignore everything he says,” Rain mutters out. 

“Ha! That’s where you’re wrong,” Dew counters,” and I’ve got the marks to prove it.” With this Dewdrop pulls his shirt collar to the side showing off a series of bruises and bite marks ( all apparently there courtesy of Rain). Rain’s blush deepens as he sinks lower into the couch. Seeing these marks sent a spark of arousal through your body. While you enjoyed being the dominant one in the bedroom as much as the next person, you had to admit that there was something about the thought of letting this seemingly shy ghoul having you on your knees for him that got your blood pumping. 

“So you make all those pretty marks on Dew’s neck?” You coo out to Rain. Rain nods without removing his hands from his face. 

“Maybe I’ll just have to get you to do that to me,” you smile. Rain lifts his head out of his hands and looks up at you with a small spark of hope in his eyes. 

“If he won’t do it then I will,” Dew grins and he crawls over Rain to get to you. Dewdrop’s lower  is half laying over Rain while his torso is smashed up next to yours. He lets out a low growl as he begins to nip at your ear lobe. 

“Stop it Dew!” You giggle as you playfully smack him with one of the throw pillows. Dew backs off a little and stares at you incredulously giving you time to wiggle out of his grasp and stand up. 

“You’ll have to make me,” Dew taunts as stands to chase you. With a playful jump you run out of the room giggling with a now very horny Dewdrop chasing after you. 

Rain, who has been watching the whole show, sits up and hisses as he feels his boner rub against the fabric of his trousers. He just lets out a small sigh and thinks about what you had said to him. 

“Maybe I’ll let you do that to me sometime.” 

Rain lets out a small moan at the thought. He really wanted to be rough with you, but always restrained himself. He wants to bring you to that thin line that lies between ecstasy and pain. He wants to tear you apart just to be able to put you back together.  He wants to make you wear his marks for days. Rain quickly shakes those thoughts from his head. He didn’t want to truly hurt you, he was terrified of the thought. 

A shiver runs down his body as he imagines the look you would give him. The mix of fear, horror, and mistrust. You would see him as a monster. A soulless being from the depths of hell. Rain had always struggled to accept parts of himself, such as his claws and fangs. To think of you viewing him as he views himself is just too much. Tears begin to well up in his eyes and he quickly moves his sleeve to wipe them away. His previous arousal is gone, leaving him with a sinking feeling.

Dew told Rain that he got rough with you, but he wasn’t like Dew. Dew was always a little feral but he had more experience with humans. He knew their breaking point, he knew when to stop. Rain sighs sadly as he gets up to leave. He knows he is letting his mind spiral, maybe a walk around the Abby pond will clear up his mind. 

You bounce back into the main room just in time to see Rain slink out the door with his tail dragging behind him. For all the time you had known the ghouls, which was quite a while now, you knew that this meant something was wrong. Usually ghouls’ tails have minds of their own. They wag vigorously when a ghoul is happy and just wave around absentmindedly when a ghoul is content or thinking. But when a ghoul is sad or something is really bothering them their tail just hangs limply next to their body. 

“Gotcha!” Dew announces as he grabs you by the waist making you jump. 

“Hey where’s Rain?” Dew asks as he peers around the living room. 

“I thought you were going to ask him to join us,” Dew continues. 

“I was but when I got here he was leaving and it looked like something was really bothering him,” you murmur as you turn to face Dew. The smile falls from Dew’s face and he lessens his grip on your waist. 

“Oh…. I think I might know what’s bothering him,” Dew explains with his tone turning serious. “Let’s go sit down and I’ll explain it to you” 

Panic floods your body upon hearing how serious Dew has become. You and Dew make your way to the couch once more and sit down. 

“Dew what’s wrong with Rain? Is he okay? Did I say something wrong?” You question Dew with obvious concern plastered on your face. 

“No. Yes,” Dew begins, “ what I mean to say is that no you didn’t say anything wrong and yes Rain is okay.” 

Dew watches as you let out a relieved sigh. 

“So what’s wrong? Does he not want me that way?” You question looking expectantly at Dew. Come to think of it, it had never just been you and Rain alone. Maybe he was just too shy to tell you he didn’t want you in that way, you think to yourself. 

“He just… he just… man I shouldn’t have teased him like that,” Dew admits sheepishly while rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. 

“ It’s not that he doesn’t want you like that. I mean he’d walk barefoot through all nine circles of hell to fuck you. And to be able to get rough with you, he’d do it twice.” 

You giggle as you feel your cheeks heat up. 

“What’s the issue then?” 

“He’s terrified,” Dew sighs as he looks towards the door. At this you let out a little laugh. “What do you mean he’s terrified? Are you trying to say that I am so frightening that I can scare a creature from hell?” You say with a laugh. 

“What? No,” Dew replies, letting a grin creep onto his face before he lets it fall and returns to the topic at hand. 

“He’s scared of hurting you,” Dew utters,” he’s scared that you’ll view him as a monster.” 

“Oh Dew, you know I would never view Rain as a monster!” You gasp.

Dew nods in agreement. “You know it, I know it, but Rain just doesn’t see it that way.” Dew continues,” Rain has always had a problem accepting himself as a ghoul. Hell, I mean we all have had issues accepting our ghoul form. It took me a long while to accept mine. But Rain still sees himself as a monster.” 

You let out a soft “oh” as the two of you sit, letting the silence surround the two of you. Dew looks away from you to stare at the floor, obviously a little embarrassed by his openness with you. He always prided himself on being the confident ghoul who isn’t afraid to take what he wants when he wants without caring what the opinions of others were, but now he just felt vulnerable.  You feel a wave of sadness rush over your heart. You know the feeling all too well. You know what it is like to question every part of yourself and end up feeling hollow.  You take Dew’s hand in yours and he slowly looks up at you. You offer him a smile, “ well I think you’re wonderful just the way you are now.” 

“Thanks,” he replies, sitting back up and letting his normally boisterous self return. Dew watches as you turn away from him to stare off into space. He watches as the smile falls from your face and is replaced with sadness. 

You let your thoughts take over and you can’t stop thinking about Rain. Your heart aches for him. You want to go to him and tell him how much you care for him, tell him how perfect you think he is and how you could never view him as a monster. Your thoughts are interrupted by Dew. 

“So… um yeah that’s about it. I just don’t know how to get Rain to see that he isn’t a monster and that his liking to get rough isn’t some weird monster trait,” Dew mutters. You focus your eyes back on Dew. 

“Do you think I should talk to him?” You ask hoping that you can help Rain. 

“Yes! I think that would be great,” Dew responds with excitement. 

“Great!” You announce as you hop up from the couch. 

“Do you have any idea where he might have gone?” you inquire as you make your way to leave the ghoul dens. 

“Hmm,” Dew hums as he thinks,” he probably went for a swim in the pond. He usually goes there when he is feeling overwhelmed. You nod back at Dew and exit the room. You mull over what you are going to say to Rain as you walk to the pond. 

______________________

Maybe [Y/N] will just forget about the whole conversation  Rain thinks as he pulls himself out of the water and onto the dock. Maybe we can all just forget this and things can go back to normal.  Normal, like that would be any better. Rain sighs. After his walk he decided to go for a swim. He does feel a little better as he lets the sun dry him off. 

Rain grabs his shirt and bunches it up into a makeshift pillow. He positions the pillow under his face as he lays on his stomach. 

Thoughts remain swirling around your head as you walk along the winding path that leads to the pond. Upon reaching the pond, you scan the area in search of Rain. You spy him laying out on the dock wearing nothing but a smile. Well it could be a smile but you can’t tell given that his face is buried in a shirt. 

You walk quietly over to the dock and stand a few feet away before letting out a small hum to announce your presence to Rain. Rain was so caught up in his own thoughts that he had not heard you walking up. He quickly pops his head up and looks up to see you standing there smiling at him. Shuffling, he quickly sits up and tries to cover himself up with his shirt. You avert your eyes allowing him some privacy to get redressed. 

“Oh hey [Y/N]. I..uh..I was just,” Rain blabbers trying to arrange his thoughts as he pulls his trousers back on. Once the sounds of fabric and zippers end and you believe that enough time has passed, you turn back to see a fully dressed, if not slightly disheveled, Rain. 

“Do you mind if I join you?” You ask with a smile as you begin to lay down next to him on the dock. 

“Sure.” Rain replies. You can hear the confusion in his words. He knows hardly anyone ever comes to the pond. 

You hum in response as you close your eyes and enjoy the feeling of the sun warming your skin. The two of you sit in silence as you relax and Rain just lays wide eyed beside you. 

“Why did you come looking for me?” Rain breaks the silence with his question. You open one of your eyes to see him sitting up and looking down at you. 

You thought about leasing him and asking what makes him think you came here for him, but you think it would be better for you just to get to the point. 

“I wanted to talk to you about a conversation Dew and I had this morning,” You explain sitting up and pulling your knees closer towards your torso. Rain lets out a groan. 

“Listen [Y/N] about this morning. Don’t listen to Dew, I really don’t like to get that rough. Dew’s skin just bruises really easily,” Rain mumbles out looking off towards the pond. 

“Rain,” You coo, taking his hand in yours. This causes his eyes to meet yours and you can see the storm inside him. 

“Dew told me about how you are scared of me seeing you as a monster,” you continue. You see a flash of fear pass over Rain’s eyes. “And I want you to know that I could never see you as a monster or anything of the sort.”

You watch as the fear in Rain’s eyes shifts to something else. Something much darker. 

“How dare he!” Rain growls out as his brows furrow. 

You are taken back by this sudden outburst. You had never seen Rain angry, hell you had never even heard him raise his voice. “He shouldn’t have told you. Maybe it’s my fault I should not even have talked to him in the first place!” Rain yells out. His body shakes with anger as he unconsciously grips your wrist tighter, causing his claws to prick your skin. The unexpected pain causes you to let out a small groan. This sound catches his attention and he looks down at your hands. His eyes widen in horror as he watches the blood leak out around the tips of his claws. Rain feels his heart shatter as he realizes what he did. He rips his hand from yours and recoils back. On instinct you cover your wound with your other hand in an attempt to stop the bleeding. 

Rain quickly looks back up at your face. He can't read your expression so his brain just inserts one. Fear. 

“See you’re scared of me aren’t you! Who would blame you! I’m a monster and I always will be!” Rain shouts as tears well up in his eyes. He usually hates crying in front of others but right now he just doesn’t care. His heart feels hollow. He just hurts the person he loves the most and nothing matters any more. Rain watches as tears begin to fill your eyes. 

“Rain,” you squeak out. You feel lost and you can’t bear to hear him talk about himself in such a way. Rain stands up and you follow in suit. You watch as his rage turns to despair. 

“I’m…I’m sorry [Y/N],” Rain mutters out through a choked sob. He turns to face away from you in an attempt to hide the tears streaming down his face. In his mind you already think of him as a monster and he is not very keen on adding cry-baby to the list. 

“Rain,” you start again, “you’re not a monster.” 

“I hurt you [Y/N]! Can’t you see that I hurt you! You! I never thought I would truly be able to do it, but I guess that makes me more of a monster than I thought. I hate being a monster. I hate myself,” Rain screams out. 

With this Rain begins to walk away but is stopped when you grab his wrist. He whips around to tell you to let go but is met with an unexpected sight. Anger. Why are you angry? I thought you were scared. Rain barely has time to think before you are roughly pulling him closer to you. Now it is your turn to be angry.

“Rain listen to me,” you demand as you grab his chin and force him to look into your eyes. 

“Never say those things about yourself ever again.” 

Rain can tell from your tone that you are serious. He gives a small nod in response and you watch as the tears continue to stream down his cheeks. Your anger settles as you feel your heart ache for the ghoul in front of you. You take your thumb and gently wipe away some of his tears. 

“Rain, you didn’t hurt me. I’ve given myself papercuts that hurt worse than this,” you explain as you motion to the pricks on your arm. 

“Really?” Rain sniffles as his tears begin to slow. 

“Yes really. You are not a monster Rain, you have to believe me. A monster would not care if they hurt someone. You being so upset over supposedly hurting me just proves that you are not one. Oh Rain,” you say as you pull him in closer for a hug. You can feel his tense body relax into the warmth of your hug. 

“I love you,” Rain mumbles as he buries his face in your hair. You think you heard what he said but you're not sure  so you pull your head back and look up at him. 

“What?” You inquire as you look up at him with soft eyes. 

“I love you [Y/N],” Rain blushes, “ there I said it. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.” Rain pulls you back into the hug and squeezes you harder. 

“I love you too, Rain,” you admit as you listen to his heart beat rapidly in his chest. 

*********************************************************

After a few moments the two of you separate and just stand there staring at each other.

“Are you sure that I didn’t hurt you?” Rain inquires as he lifts your wrist to inspect the puncture wounds on your forearm. 

“Yes I’m sure,” You giggle out as you watch Rain apply small kisses to the area. “Actually,” you continue with a blush,” I kinda liked it.” 

Rain stops his administration to look up at you with a spark in his eye, his tail gives a slight swish of excitement. 

“Oh really?” Rain smirks. You give a little nod in response and he begins making his way up your arm leaving behind a trail of kisses and nips. 

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Rain smirks as he reaches your collar bone. 

“Well I didn’t think that the middle of an emotional conversation was an appropriate time to reveal my pain kink,” you moan out, feeling him nip lightly at your neck. You hear Rain purr in response to your words. He feels his cock twitch in excitement at the thought of your body willingly submitting to him. You hum happily as he continues his assault on your neck. Suddenly Rain pulls back and looks you in the eyes. 

“Do you want this?” Rain asks, searching your eyes for any hesitation. 

“Yes Rain. I want you to take me and be rough with me,” You admit as you once again throw your head back as an invitation for him to resume his attack on your neck. 

“Promise me that you will tell me to stop if it gets to be too much for you. Just say ‘red’ and I will stop immediately.” 

“Red. Got it. I promise Rain. Now just fuck me already” you huff out. 

“With pleasure,” Rain smiles. Rain’s bites on your neck get deeper as his hands roam desperately over your body. You let out a small scream of surprise as Rain rips the front of your dress open. 

“I’ll get you another one,” Rain growls in your ear as his hands go to cup your chest. Rain grins when he sees that you are going braless today. A wanton moan escapes your lips as he circles his calloused thumbs over your hardened nipples. 

“Were you expecting this?” Rain teases as he continues to rub you. 

“Actually no,” you explain through gasps, “ Dew stole it earlier today.” 

Rain chuckles in response. Of course he did, Rain thinks to himself.  Rain runs his claws down your back leaving small scrapes. He is encouraged by your moans and whimpers. You are sure that your neck and shoulders will be covered in his marks for days. You reach out your hands and begin tugging at the hem of Rain’s shirt, indicating that you want him to take it off. Rain obliges you and pulls back to remove the article of clothing. This gives you the time to shed the remains of your dress and cast it aside. 

Rain pulls up back against him and goes in for a kiss. Hands roam as the kiss deepens. You can feel his fangs prick at your lips as you let his tongue explore your mouth. With his body pressed against yours, you can feel the bulge in his trousers rub against your naked thigh. You moan out at the sensation and feel yourself becoming wetter. You have to pull away from the kiss to catch your breath. 

“I want it rough Rain,” you plead looking up at him with doe eyes. 

“If that’s what you want,” Rain mumbles out as he shoves you to your knees, but not before carefully moving his shirt under your knees so they won’t be bruised by the hard wood of the dock. 

“Let’s give that pretty mouth of yours something to do,” Rain smirks as he begins unlacing his trousers. He lets out a grunt when he manages to free himself from the confines of his pants. You open your mouth and lean forward to taste him. Without much warning, Rain shoves himself into your mouth and sets a brutal pace, giving you no time to adjust. When you gag on him, Rain slows and looks down at you with his eyebrow cocked. You give him a thumbs up to signal to him that you’re fine. With that Rain begins ramming himself back down your throat. 

You can feel spit leaking out from around your mouth as his hips brush against your nose. The noises that Rain lets out above you makes your core grow wetter. Rain runs his hands through your hair and grips onto your skull tightly. You attempt to swirl your tongue around him but his pace is making that difficult so you just settle on letting him use your mouth as his own personal fuck toy. Your nails dig into his hips leaving a trail of red marks in their wake. 

“Fuck. You are the perfect little slut with your.. Uh … slutty mouth?,” Rain grunts as he continues to piston his hips into you. You cock one of your eyebrows and look up at him questioningly. Rain doesn’t usually talk like that. 

“Yeah I’m not going to try that again. I’ll leave the dirty talk up to Swiss,” Rain apologizes as he uses your mouth. Rain continues his brutal pace for a few more minutes before pulling you off himself roughly. 

“You’re turn, princess,” Rain smiles as he yanks you by your hair until you are standing. You let out a mewl as you feel him place a harsh smack on your rear. Rain pulls you over to a tree before shoving you against it. You whimper as you feel the bark dig into your skin. Rain grabs your face in his large hands as he makes out with you shoving you harder into the tree. His crotch grinds into your core, causing you to gasp out in pleasure. Rain pulls back from the kiss to give you a wide grin before he takes his tongue and licks up the side of your face.  He kicks your legs apart before kneeling before you and shoving his face against your center. His tail wags excitedly as he takes a deep inhale of your scent. A rumbling groan escapes him as sneaks his hand up onto your thighs. The ferocity with which he rips your underwear off causes you to try and squeak your legs closed. 

“No,” Rain growls as his hands move to spread you open once more. His claws prick into the soft skin of your inner thighs as he sinks his teeth into your flesh. He doesn’t break the skin, only leaving an imprint. He hums as you mewl above him. Rain continues to tease you by licking and nipping at your thighs and stomach avoiding the place you want him the most. 

“Please, Rain,” you beg almost in tears from how desperate you are now. Rain chuckles as he places his mouth on you. His long tongue explores you as you throw your head back and let out a pitiful whimper. He brings one of his hands over to your clit and begins to rub it furiously. 

“Ah! Ah!” you scream at the pressure he is putting on your clit. This only causes him to dive deeper into you, lapping more vigorously. Your orgasm hits you like a wave causing your eyes to roll back. Rain smiles as he continues to work you through your orgasm. Your whole body shakes as Rain supports some of your weight. A tinge of overstimulation interrupts your pleasure as you realize Rain is still going to town on you. 

“Too much,” you hiss as Rain continues to rub you. Rain listens for you to say red but it never happens so he just continues. 

“Rain!” You shout as you feel another orgasm coming. 

“You said you wanted it rough,” Rain teases as he bites your thigh. This sends you over the edge once more. You squeeze your eyes shut as you ride out your second high. You release a sigh of relief when you feel Rain pull away from you. Rain pulls you back into a rough kiss biting at your lips. You whimper into his mouth and feel him grin in response. 

“Are you still good? Not too rough for you?” Rain questions. 

“I’m great,” you announce with a blissed out expression. 

With this Rain spins you around so that your chest is pressed up against the tree. Rain spanks your rear a couple of times before positioning your hips so that they are sticking out a little. 

“You like that?” Rain coos in your ear. All you can do is pant in response as you feel Rain rub himself on your ass. Rain reaches around your body and starts to pinch your nipples as he nibbles at your ear. You squeal as you feel something poking at your core and you feel Rain push one of his fingers into you. Rain thrusts his long finger into you roughly as you gasp out. 

“Actually,” Rain muses and removes his finger from you. You whine at the loss and try to push back onto him. 

“Oh fuck!” You scream when Rain suddenly rams himself into you. The stretch is intense, you feel your insides burning as he sets a punishing pace. Once again giving you no time to adjust. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Rain growls out in pleasure as he grasps your waist tightly as he shoves you onto him. The sound of the back of your thighs hitting the front of his sounds like thunder. You know you’ll be sore for days to come. You hear Rain pant with exertion. You feel your front scrape against the tree bark but you don’t care. All you care about is how Rain is taking you and how wonderful it feels. Rain hisses as he pulls out of you before spinning you around to face him. 

He roughly shoves your back against the tree before thrusting up into you once more. Rain releases a feral growl when he enters you. He brings one of your legs up so that it can wrap around his hips. You cry out as Rain bites at your already bruised jaw. Rain uses his other hand to brace himself against the try. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Rain pants in your ear as his thrusts become more erratic and you can tell he is getting close. Rain sneaks his tail up to begin rubbing your clit. Rain brings your wrist up to his mouth and bites at the puncture marks he made earlier. You call out as you cum once more. You clamp down onto him causing him to groan. He is close behind you. One, two, three, four more thrusts until Rain’s cum splashes into you and he cries out. 

You both remain there panting before Rain moves to pull out. You hiss in pain as he removes himself from your abused core. Rain looks down to watch his cum leak out of you and run down your thighs. He is mesmerized by the site before he sinks to his knees. 

“Rain what are you— Ahhh” you cry out as you feel him licking at you once more. Now it is more pain than pleasure. You grab at his hair trying to get him to stop. This only makes him dive in harder. You whimper out as you feel another orgasm building. All you can think is that this will be the one that kills you. Your gravestone will read ‘ [y/n] died doing what they loved’. Your thoughts are interrupted by Rain’s thumb circling your clit. 

“No,” you whimper. 

“Come on. Give me one more, I know you can,” Rain coos. You have a deep breath and search around for something to hold onto. One of your hands finds its way to Rain’s shoulder and the other grabs the closest thing to it, Rain’s tail. Rain moans when you squeeze his tail and doubles down on his efforts. He feels you nails digging into the meat of his shoulder. 

“I need——,” you begin. Rain looks up to meet your eyes. He gazes at you and instantly understands what you need. Rain digs his claws into you rear and places a bite into your thigh. You scream out once more. Relishing the feeling of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. 

You collapse with the feeling of your final orgasm rolling over you. Rain catches you and lowers you slowly the rest of the way to the ground. 

“So good,” Rain purrs in your ear as he offers you a series of pats on your head. When your body finally stops shaking you open your eyes to see Rain smiling at you. You smile back at him and your hand makes its way to caress his face. 

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“I love you,” Rain murmurs as he nuzzles into you palm. 

“I love you,” you respond with a breathy voice. Once you have regained the strength Rain helps you to stand. The both of you begin to search around the area for your clothes. 

As Rain pulls up his trousers he hears you groan behind him. 

“What’s wrong-,” Rain starts as he turns to face you.

“Oh,” Rain utters upon seeing you holding up your shredded dress. 

“Sorry,” Rain blushes as he offers you his shirt. 

“Thanks,” you say as you take his shirt. The bottom of your dress is somewhat passable so you slide it on and then pull his shirt over that. Rain snuggles up next to you as you both begin the journey back to the ghoul dens. 

The two of you walk back in silence, throwing each other a smile or two along the way. Rain makes a show of opening the door for you, bowing as you walk through. 

“Santanas, Rain! What have you done?!” Dew stares at you in disbelief. With Your dress in tatters and your neck covered in bruises and bite marks you must look a mess.. 

“Nothing,” Rain answers with a blush. You smile upon seeing his blush, he is still your little shy ghoul. 

“This,” Dew states motioning up and down your body,” doesn’t look like nothing.” 

“I’m fine Dew. Rain didn’t do anything I didn’t ask him to,” you explain, causing Dew’s eyes to widen in surprise. Once Dew recovers from the shock he lets a smirk creep onto his face. 

“Well When I said you should be rough I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Dew continues as he inspects you. 

“What do you mean?” Rain questions, cocking his head to the side. 

“Well I thought [y/n] was going to go to you, convince you that you are not a monster and tell you that it was my idea. That the two of you would come back and show your thanks by worshiping my body.” 

You giggle at Dew’s words as makes a show of slumping  his shoulders in feigned disappointment. 

“Really Dew?” Rain rolls his eyes and begins to pull you towards his bedroom. 

“I’m just kidding,” Dew calls before he begins to follow you. 

“Can I come too?” Dew asks as you reach Rain’s room. 

“Dew we aren’t having sex,” Rain explains as he opens his door. 

“Well I know that. I mean I’m pretty sure that fucking [y/n] after whatever you did to them would be considered a cruel and unusual punishment. I just want to cuddle,” Dew purrs throwing his cheesiest smile at Rain. 

“Oh come on Rain. Let Dew come,” you plead as you put on your biggest doe eyes. 

“Fine. Get in there you two,” Rain consents. You and Dew give each other little smirks before heading into Rain’s room. Rain closes the door behind the three of you. 

“Let’s get you taken care of,” he grins. Both he and Dew help you get undressed. While Dew leads you to the bed and sets you down, Rain goes to his bathroom to get a few items. Dew sits with you, rubbing your back softly. You lean over and place your head on his shoulder suddenly realizing just how exhausted you are. 

Rain walks out of the bathroom carrying a few things. 

“Here,” Rain says as he places the items on his bedside table. Rain cleans you up with a warm cloth and swipes an alcohol wipe over any bite marks he finds. The sting of the alcohol causes you to hiss. 

“Sorry sweetheart,” Rain apologizes as Dewdrop holds you tighter. One you have been fully inspected by Rain, he gives you a clean t-shirt of his to put on. Dew slides the shirt down over your torso as Rain pulls back the covers on the bed and motions for you to get under them. 

You let out a happy sigh as you snuggle into the bed and you feel Dew slip under the covers with you. 

“Take this,” Rain orders, holding out two aspirin and a glass of water. You follow his directions before settling back into the bed. Rain pulls you closer to him once he lays down. Dew gives an annoyed huff before sliding closer to you and wrapping his arms around your waist once more. You the vibrations of Rain’s purr deep in his chest as the three of you lay there in silence. 

You let out a yawn as you feel your eyelids getting heavier. 

“You know,” you yawn out,” I don’t think either of you are monsters.” 

Rain hums happily in response. 

“We aren’t…. Until you ask us to be,” Dew smirks as he nuzzles his face into your hair. With that you let yourself fall asleep snuggled between two of your favorite ghouls. 

[pascalscoffin]

Away from the Devil pt. VI

Full Pedro Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Pt. VII coming soon

Warning: Minors Go Away I Will Kick You In The Forehead. I just don’t want kiddos here. Yeah it’s all rewritten with the reader added in if ya don’t like it don’t read it. Reader is female and uses she/her pronouns. Reader is around 24, Joel is 56. Reader is obsessed with Murder!Joel. Cursing. Typical tlou violence. Reader has… issues. One use of y/n

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You woke up in a hospital room with a throbbing in your head. “Fuck..” you mumbled, jumping when you saw movement from the corner of your eye. “Jesus!” You slip back on the bed. “Who the fuck are you?” She was… attractive, you could give her that, a nice looking woman for an apocalypse anyway. Which isn’t to say she looks nice cause she looks fucking rude. “Where are Joel and Ellie?” She squinted at you and crossed her arms. “You tell me who you are first. Then we’ll talk.”

You scoffed. “Fuck off. My head still fucking hurts by the way.” You rubbed the back of your skull. “They didn’t know who you were.” “Oh geez well that makes my headache completely go away. Look at that.” You scoffed and clenched your jaw. “My names y/n. Now. Where. Are. They?” The woman sighed heavily. “Marlene. Get up. Come on.” She shook her head and guided you out of your room.

You glared at the soldiers surrounding you as you followed her, trying not to rush to Joel’s side too fast. “Joel.” You took a deep breath, fighting the urge to check him over and make sure he was okay. “… where’s Ellie?” You looked over towards Marlene.

“She wasn’t hurt. Not even a scratch. She’s mostly worried about you two.” “Where is she?” Joel repeated. “We lost half our crew crossing the country. I had five men whose only job was to protect me and I still almost got killed.” “Hm. Maybe they weren’t very good.” “Stop.” Joel grunted beside you.

“How’d you do it? Is my point.” Joel took a deep breath and shook his head. “It was all her. She fought like hell to get here.” “She would’ve been dead on day one. You are the one person I never wanted to be in debt to. But I owe you. We all owe you.” “Just take us to her.”

“I can’t. She’s being prepped for surgery.” You and Joel looked at eachother before Joel looked at Marlene while you looked down. “What surgery?” Marlene took a breath before speaking.

“Our doctor.. he thinks the Cordyceps in Ellie has grown with her since birth.” “Why is she in surgery?” “It produces a kind of chemical messenger, it makes normal Cordyceps think that she’s Cordyceps too, that’s why she’s immune. He’s gonna remove it from her, multiply the cells in a lab, produce those chemical messenger, and then we can give it to everyone. He thinks it can be a cure, Joel. A cure.”

Joel sat back a little and took a while to speak. “… Cordyceps grows inside the brain.” You immediately felt sick to your stomach. Jesus fuck… “it does.” You looked up slowly as you saw her feet move towards the door. “Find someone else.” “There is so no one else. We didn’t tell her, we didn’t cause her any fear. There won’t be any pain.”

“No. No you take me to her. You take me to her right now!” Joel stood up and took a step and was immediately hit in the stomach with one of Marlene’s little Firefly soldiers’ guns. “Hey!” You stood up but when he took a step towards you, you growled lowly and knelt down to check on Joel, who nodded and put his hand up towards you before looking at the floor.

“Please… you don’t understand.” “I do. I was there when she was born, Joel. I promised her mother that I would save her child. I promised. So I do understand.” “Bullshit.” You looked up at her, your jaw clenched. “You understand? You made a promise to save her. Big fucking whoop. You’re sending her to her death without even fucking telling her. You’re a shitty friend and a shitty person.” You growled. “All for what? A maybe? Some fucking loser who THINKS it’s going to be a cure? Someone’s dying fucking wish and you’re stepping on it and rubbing it into the sand. Fuck you.”

Marlene’s jaw clenched tightly. “I’m sorry.” She looked at Joel. “I have no other choice.” “I do.” Joel responded, looking at you when you turned your head towards him. Marlene looked at him for a moment before nodding a little. “Take them out to the highway. Leave them there with their packs.” She pulled a knife- Ellie’s knife- from her belt and handed it to the soldier next to her. “Give him this.”

“He tries anything. Kill them. Both of them.” Marlene held her eye contact with Joel before looking at you as one of the soldiers yanked Joel to his feet and the other pushed you forward as Marlene left the room.

As you were being lead down the stairs your jaw was clenched so tight you almost thought your teeth were going to crack under the pressure when Joel slowed to a stop, you took one step before stopping and turning to him.

“What the fuck are you two doing? Keep walking.” One of them pushed Joel, causing him to bump you and knock you down a couple steps with him, not making you fall but causing you to stumble slightly onto the platform. “I said keep walk-“ his sentence was cut off with a groan as Joel slammed his elbow into his nose, knocking him into the other soldier before slamming him into the wall.

Joel pinned him to the wall with his body and angled his gun towards the other soldier, shooting him before he could get himself upright, then standing up and aiming at the other soldier. “Where is she?” “Fuck you.” “I don’t have time for this.” Joel shot him and turned away from him. Shots fired! shots fired! You heard over the radio.

You were pressed back against the wall, eyes wide as you watched Joel put Ellie’s knife into his pocket and then shove one pistol into your hand, and the other into his waistband before searching them for more ammo, splitting it between the two of you.

“Joel I don’t think-“ “shut up.” He turned to you and grabbed your shoulder, angling himself to look you in the eye. “You got this. I just need you to get my back, make sure I don’t get crept up on or nothin’ like that.” You looked down at the gun, then the guys on the ground and thought about how fast he’d handled that… “alright. Okay.” You looked back up into his eyes and immediately regretted it when you saw that furrowed brow thing he did when he looked at Ellie sometimes.

And then it melted into something else, something ravenous, dangerous.. and then he was turning around, holding the gun in his hands up and heading back up the stairs as he put his pack on. Jesus that shouldn’t have been as hot as it was… but god it was.

You followed him up the stairs quickly, putting your own pack on, and stuck close behind him, gun up as you peered behind him and into rooms you passed just in case, even making sure he got everyone in front of him. Of course, he did, and if he didn’t you didn’t need to catch them cause he would immediately turn and make sure he was the one that shot them in the head.

Until, as you were passing by a room someone ran out of the one on the opposite wall and tackled Joel to the ground, you flinched back and watched them wrestle with eachother before you got an angle to shoot him.

Only when you squeeze the trigger instead of that loud pop you heard a soft click. You looked down at the gun in your hands and then back up at them as Joel’s eyes widened a bit. The fucking fun was empty! You watched as Joel reached for the knife in his pocket, only for it to be slapped out of his hand before the gun was throwing him onto the ground.

You ran over to the knife quickly, your hands shaking as you opened it up before running over to the two of them and stabbing the guy in the neck, shoving him off of Joel as Joel let out a loud gasp as he drew in air, the man’s hands falling from around his neck. You let the knife slide out as the man fell to the ground, grasping at his throat.

You stumbled back a little as Joel got to his feet, your eyes locked onto the bleeding man as you swallowed thickly, your hand and Ellie’s knife covered in his blood, some had even gotten on your shirt and face when the knife had come out.

Joel’s voice faded in slowly as you watched the man bleed out, thinking back to the man that had almost killed you all those years ago, how his eyes had looked the same, full of light and then… dull, empty, and lifeless.

And then Joel was stepping in front of you and grabbing your face. “Hey.” You blinked rapidly, tears flooding your vision as you looked at him slowly, your eyes looking at the blood that had poured onto him, feeling a twist in your stomach you’d hadn’t felt since you were hiding out in the shed with one of the boys from Silver Lake, scared to be caught by David but in the throes of young passion.

Well that was new.

“We have to get Ellie before they start. Come on.” He took Ellie’s knife from you, cleaning it off as he started walking, grabbing the gun off the guy you’d just killed. You followed him slowly, your eyes glued to his lifeless ones. You thought killing a man would different, worse regardless of the situation, but you felt… lighter, relieved. It was nothing like killing a Cordyceps and that scratched at the back of your head as you and Joel made your way to Pediatrics.

After a while you got to the pediatric surgery ward, straightening up and tightening your grip on your gun as you walked through the door into the room behind Joel. A doctor and two nurses were standing over Ellie, the nurses pulling the oxygen mask off while the doctor stood and waited.

“Unhook her.” You stood behind Joel, silent as you looked at all the wires and needles stuck in her, swallowing thickly. “How did you get in here?” Joel raised his gun as the doctor stepped towards him. “I said unhook her.” He motioned to Ellie with it.

“I won’t let you take her.” He looked over and picked up a scalpel, pointing it at Joel. You couldn’t help but flinch at way the gunshot echoed when he shot the doctor in the head, causing the nurses to all but scream. “Unhook her.” He looked at the nurses, gun aimed towards them now. They looked at eachother, hesitant.

“MOVE!” Joel shouted. Now that was… a different kind of flinch. But this wasn’t the time to think about that. Joel just killed… so many people. And you, your first. Now is the worst time to think that way. The nurses sobbed and muttered please as they started unhooking her. “Cover her arm. Fast.” The nurse reached behind her quickly and taped a cotton ball to the pin prick before she raised her hands again. “Turn around.”

They spun around quickly as Joel reached down and picked up Ellie, you watched him, looked at the nurses, and then turned around and followed him out, swallowing thickly. You stepped onto the elevator with him and pressed the button he told you to press, hesitantly looking over at him. “… we couldn’t let them do it.” You whispered softly into the quiet of the elevator.

Joel shook his head slowly. “You were right. I couldn’t go through with it anyway. But her dying over a maybe… it’s not worth it.” He looked at you, and then looked forward as the elevator doors opened.

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You stepped out and when you saw an SUV with the hood up you headed towards it with Joel, stopping when you heard Marlene’s voice. “You can’t keep her safe forever.” You spun around and took a step towards her as Joel turned around, stopping when she pointed the gun towards you.

“No matter how hard you try, no matter how many people you kill, she’s going to grow up, Joel. And then you’ll die, she’ll leave. Then what?” She looked at you and then Joel. “How long till she’s torn apart by infected or murdered by raiders? Because she lives in a broken world that you could have saved.”

“Maybe. But it isn’t for you to decide.” Joel responded. “Or you. So what would she decide, huh? Cause I think she’d wanna do what’s right. And you know it.” Joel looked like he was starting to give in. “It’s not too late. Even now… even after what you’ve done.” Marlene started to lower her gun. “We can still find a way.” For a moment you started to believe the conflicted look on Joel’s face. How’d he gone from completely emotionless a moment ago and now seemed to be flooded with them completely flabbergasted you.

And then the shot rang out and Marlene fell to the ground with a yell, clutching her stomach. You looked at Joel quickly and saw that emotionless look back on his face again. Was he..? You looked at Marlene as you backed away, following Joel to the car as he put Ellie in, stopping halfway in when you heard Marlene groaning.

You watched as Joel closed Ellie’s door and walked around the SUV and over to her. You settled your foot back on the ground, watching him closely. You couldn’t stop watching him, it was like watching an accident or fire. You knew you should look away but there was some twisted part of you that found it… beautiful.

“No, wait. Wait, wait, wait. Please.” Marlene begged, her hand outstretched towards Joel. “Let me go.” She breathed heavily, wheezing. “You’d just come after her.” Joel pulled the trigger and turned around, holding eye contact with you as he came back to the suv, closed the hood, and finally tearing his eyes away when he climbed into the drivers seat. You got into the passenger seat beside him and slowly buckled your seatbelt.

The car was silent as Joel started it and then left the hospital parking garage. You were quiet for the drive, partially because you didn’t know what to say, and partially because you were scared of saying the wrong thing and sounding stupid, and then, you said the first thing that came to mind.

“I… so probably a shitty time for this but I… I wanted to ask about Sarah.” You said softly, looking over at Joel slowly. It took Joel a while but he hesitantly looked over at you and took a deep breath. “Sarah.. was my daughter. Before this.” He cleared his throat. “What happened..? You don’t have to tell me but.. if you want to I’m listening.”

Joel nodded and looked forward. He was quiet for a while and you figured maybe he didn’t wanna talk about it, and then you heard him start talking. “It was the first day. My brother Tommy… got himself arrested, called me about.. midnight or so to bail him out. Took me about two hours to make it back, had to kill our neighbor in front of her.” He sighed heavily. “We were driving through town, trying to find a way out, military was blocking main exists so we had to figure something else out.. anyway a plane crashed in town and the truck flipped…” he was quiet for another minute or so, likely thinking back to that night.

“She hurt her ankle so I had to carry her while we ran from an infected.” He reached up and rubbed his face. “Soldier shot it but… kept his gun on us. I kept… I kept telling him we weren’t sick, that she just hurt her ankle.” He cleared his throat. “His.. commander or whatever… told him to shoot us. I.. I tried to get her away from it but I just.. I didn’t turn in time.. and he got her.” He shook his head. “I held her in my arms while she died.” He mumbled, staring at the road ahead of him, his fist curled tight on the console between you.

You hesitated before reaching out and curling your hand over his fist, looking up at him. “I’m so sorry.” You whispered softly. Joel didn’t look at you, watching the road with a tight jaw, but slowly his hand relaxed under yours and turned over, your fingers winding together even if it was for just a second. Then it was like his brain caught up with his hand and he glanced at your hands before slowly pulling his away to drive with both hands. “You should sleep.” He cleared his throat. “Might need you to drive at some point.”

You were a little embarrassed to tell him you didn’t actually know how to drive, so you just nodded and shifted to try and get comfortable. “Okay.” You mumbled before pulling your legs up into your seat and closing your eyes.

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Taglist:

@romanarose @orcasoul @caitlynsixxx @shotgun-shelby

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

What is UP moonlight and ire nation, Im being tormented by intrusive thoughts rn, so I have decided to read a chapter of A Court of Mist and Fury and hope they stop when Im done with this. Last time on the Flames and Darkness Liveblog we had Lucien finally finding Feyre and Feyre being needlessly cruel to him until he left again. also, Feyre used her Tamlin-powers to shapeshift herself a pair of wings and I think that was pretty much it, I feel like not a lot happens in these chapters tbh. And yet I always have so much to say to say about them... Whatever, lets get into this

Chapter 48

Is Feyre smelling the other people at this inn having sex? what kinda smells and noises is she talking about

Theyre in a village that consists of just the inn theyre staying at, a tailor, a grocery store and a brothel? I mean presumably theres actual houses there too but that doest seem right. Also, if its as in-the-middle-of-nowhere as Feyre claims, where the hell are they getting groceries and what kind of groceries are they selling

of course theres only ONE BED and its soooooo small oh noooo do you guys think theyre gonna have sex or what

Oh and of course Feyre cant demand that Rhysand sleep on the floor because its too small to even do that theyre gonna have the wildest sex, and by wildest sex I mean theyre both gonna squeeze each other into the bed under the comically small ceiling of this broomcloset of a room and lay on top of each other without moving like a sandwhch made out of just faemeat

I feel like a cape thats cut to fit around these bigass illyrian wings would lose a lot of its functionality tbh, unless it was like, a wrapping for the wings to protect them from the cold, but I dont think thats the case with Rhysand's cape, i think it either just has holes or is some kind of weird shape, but I feel like if your in these harsh winter winds, having a cape fluttering around your wings would be pretty distracting considering how sensitive supposedly they are

WAIT. do we count this cape as a new Rhys-outfit or do we not. Im on the fence because on one hand, he's just wearing it with his usual illyrian leathers and its really just an accessoire, like I wouldnt count what he wore in the CoN as a new outfit just because he wore a crown with his black tunic, but on the other hand, I feel like a cape can really drastically alter the look of an outfit in a way most other acessoires cant. let me know what you think

of COURSE feyre would call the hypothetical painting she would make of Rhysand 'Death on Fast Wings' im gonna commit a crime

'"I love it when you look at me like that. [...] Like there's no reason to run away from my power. Like you're looking at me."' Does this imply that Rhysand identifies with the descriptor 'death on fast wings' because idk that seems weird. then again, he is a weirdo

Rhysand's pronouns are death/incarnate <- thought that popped into my head while I was writing the previous bullet point

By far the worst part about this book are all the sections where Feyre will just suck Rhysand off for a paragraph, she would not fucking say that

'"No, [you weren't afraid of me]. You were nervous, but you weren't afraid. I've felt pure fear often enough that I know the difference. Maybe that's why I couldn't leave you alone."' god, rhysand is such a creepy little freak. and not the good kind either

Feyre is being all like "oh, sure, the bed isnt small but we couldnt possibly both sleep in it without completely getting into each other's personal space, especially with his wings" girl??? tell him to put those thangs away???

god this paragraph is so annoying 'Fae-men were possessive, dominant and arrogant but the men of the Spring Court had a certain disregard [for my wishes] laying beneath the the surface' my brother in christ you have been in two and a half (2 1/2) courts and you know seven (7) fae-men personally

Also, this part where Feyre is like "if I was wasting away and Rhysand just stood by without doing anything about it, Cassian and Azriel would've gotten involved and given him a piece of their minds" is so funny knowing whats gonna happen in acosf, like no they fucking wouldnt! what are you talking about!

Oh man it just occurred to me. this is the chapter where Feyre finds out theyre mates isnt it. Or like, this part whre theyre at this inn is when she finds out, Im pretty sure itll last for multiple chapters

"[Rhysand] saw right through Ianthe the moment he met her." yeah because she broke into his bedroom and sexually harassed him and just outright told him that she wanted to have his children for the sake of power ?? I would hope he would see through that

I feel like theres been this pattern in this book of Feyre only being able to compliment Rhys in contrast with Tamlin and its very strange because you would think that after speedrunning their relationship development and spending about 500 pages worth of time with him, she would be able to point out some of his positives without immediately connecting them to her ex's negatives, but I guess thats too much to ask of this ROMANCE

Like, I forgot if this was something Feyre already said or if this is still coming up but I know theres a point in this book where she's like "I think I just loved Tamlin pre-UTM because I was so broken and traumatized from my shitty homelife that I fell for the first person to show me some kindness" and that is not how their relationship felt in ACOTAR at all atleast in my opinion, but that definitely is how Feysand feels in this book

I really hate it when male characters are described as having "hard muscles" it sounds so unpleasant. im saying this primarily as someone who likes to read about characters cuddling and prefers it when theyre soft for that, but even if we're just talking smut, does having sex with a "hard" guy sound pleasant to you? or, well. you know what i mean

!! NEW RHYS-OUTFIT DROPPED !! hes wearing wide thin pants (even though theyre sleeping in an ice cold broom closet) and a tight cotton shirt, both of unspecified color

Oh yeah, Rhysand is just sooooooo powerful you guys, he needs to constantly use his magic otherwise itll just take him over and turn him into the joker

'Everyone at his Court had a use, some kind of great ability. And here I was, a strange, unpredictable hybrid that was more trouble than it's worth.' girl you are literally fae jesus what the hell are you talking about

Maybe Im just in a bad mood but this part where Rhys n Feyre are telling each other about how they would tear the world apart if they were ever forcefully seperated is so deeply annoying to me

Im not gonna translate the shit Rhysand just said to Feyre, tldr he thinks shes hot and wants to fuck her but the room is too small for that woe is him, and ughhhh. Im struggling to explain this in a way that doesnt make me sound puritanical, but something about the horniness of their relationship makes it feel really gross to me, its not just the fact that this relationship is horny because I can very much enjoy a horny fictional relationship sometimes, but the horny relationships that I usually enjoy are like, warm and pleasant from the eroticism of it all, Feysand is just kinda gross and sticky to me

Feyre's negative self-talk in regards to her feelings for Rhysand and Tamlin feels so forced, like cmon man, you keep talking about how much Tamlin sucks ass and how much better Rhys is for you how are you still experiencing any kind of inner conflict about this

Also, Feyre talking about how she was constantly thinking about Rhysand even before she left the spring court is just, a lie. does SJM not expect her readers to remember anything

Now theyre spooning and Feyre is stroking his wings and Rhysand is humping her and its like, this isnt sexy to me this is just kinda weird

bro how come Ive never seen anyone talk about Rhysand being like "I love your boobs so much, oh, you dont even know how much I love them" thats so funny

The rest of this chapter was just Rhysand fingering Feyre and honestly, it wasnt too bad, with the extreme proximity and him warming her up I can see why some people would find it hot but idk. its still a sjm smut scene and its german which makes it pretty unpleasant for me