#might as well start tagging him since he's in multiple posts now

[forter-from-meteos]

painting! i forgot how much i love painting

[rowarn]

PLEASE, LOVE ME. PT2

simon riley / reader

FIND PART ONE || read the full thing on ao3

tags: childhood friends, friends2lovers, virgin!reader, soft!simon, protective!simon, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, MDNI

cw: reader is over 20, pining, masturbation (reader), loss of virginity, explicit workplace sexual harassment/assault, so much crying, one-sided love, not-really-unrequited love, vomiting, panic attacks, depression, crying, sex related shame, PTSD (reader), codependency but cute, self-deprecating thoughts, slut shaming, wet dream, dry humping, simon fucks up tho, reference to suicide & suicidal ideation, really nasty argument, reader hits simon sorry, apologizes tho!!!, reader struggles to orgasm, drinking, fooling around while drunk (no sex), breast play, fingering, orgasm denial, simon's a tease, p-in-v, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, creampie, mating press, missionary, simon's dirty mouth, dirty talk, wet&messy, big cock, uncut simon bc i said so, reassurance & encouragement, some pain upon penetration, clit spanking, post-coital crying!!!!!!, aftercare, briefly edited so apologies for any lingering mistakes

note: this is part two and contains the gratuitous smut portion ur all looking forward to <3

you've loved him since you were children. after a confession when you were 14 went rejected, you vowed to never let your feelings be known again. but after an incident that left you hurt and fragile, you find it hard to keep that promise.

PART 2: 17.9k total: 35.8k

Things seem to get much better between you. Your anger and resentment towards Simon diminishes significantly and you can finally say you feel comfortable around him again. You wouldn’t say you’ve forgotten everything that happened, you fear that the entire ordeal has left its scar on you. 

But you finally feel ready to truly begin to work on yourself and get to a better place mentally. 

You’re humming to yourself as you dust the surfaces in your living room, cringing in disgust when you see how dusty a particular shelf was. 

Just as you go to give it another swipe, your front door opens and Simon stumbles in, huffing from effort as he carries two armfuls of groceries. 

“Simon!” you cry out, watching with wide eyes from the stepstool you stood on as he ungracefully dropped them on the floor, “Why did you bring them all up here like that?”

“Didn’t wanna make another trip,” he explained lamely, flexing his hands as he looked over all the bags.

“Okay, I guess,” you chuckle softly. 

Simon finally looks up at you, “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning,” you shrug, waving the duster at him, “I haven’t felt like doing it until now so might as well get it done when I feel like it!”

He’s quiet for a moment before he steps over the bags of groceries.His boots thunk heavily on the floor as he approaches you. Suddenly, he wraps an arm around your middle. You squeak in surprise when he very carefully and gently pulls you off of the stool and places you back onto your feet. 

Then he walks away like nothing happened, snatching up a couple groceries up from the floor to take to the kitchen. 

You decide not to comment on his behavior and simply choose to grab a couple of bags and help him out. When you get inside the kitchen, he’s already stuffing things into the refrigerator. You place the bags down and go back to pick some more up, transferring all the bags of groceries near him so he can easily put them away. 

You notice one of the bags has some piping, lightbulbs, wires, and other things you can’t identify. 

“What’s all this?” you ask, holding the bag out to him when he turns to look.

He grunts, closing the fridge, “Gonna fix some shit around here.”

“Why?” you ask, scrunching your nose up as you place the bag on the counter.

“Shithole needs it,” he mumbles, moving to start opening the cabinets, “Since you refuse to let me move you out of this place, I’m gonna make sure it at least functions.”

You hum and nod your head. Simon had attempted to convince you to move out and into an apartment of his own choosing but you flat out refused. He was already paying the rent on this place, you weren’t going to let him spend more money for a different place – because you know Simon would choose somewhere that would cost a lot more than your current flat. 

But you couldn’t deny, the idea of Simon doing a little manual labor around the apartment made your heart flutter in your chest. The way he took care of you and was willing to get his hands dirty just to make sure you were comfortable. The little domestic tasks you could imagine him doing. 

It almost felt like something a husband would do. 

You felt your cheeks flush immediately at the train of thought. How embarrassing and juvenile to think something like that

“I can cook dinner!” you mumble after clearing your throat. 

Simon actually has the audacity to laugh. You frown as he shakes his head, closing the cabinet before turning to you. 

“Absolutely not,” he says.

Your jaw drops, “Why?!”

“Because,” he steps closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before breezing past you, “You’re a terrible cook, love.”

You open your mouth to retort but can only huff. Because he’s right. The last time you tried to make dinner for the two of you, you had confused cayenne with cinnamon and made the most diabolical stew known to man. He vowed to never let you cook anything that required more than boiling water since. 

You pout your way back to the living room, mumbling a petulant, “Fine…” as you went.

You didn’t catch the broad grin on Simon’s face as he watched you sulk away. He was just happy to see your vibrance returning before his very eyes.

True to his word, however, he began to do some random odd jobs around the apartment. He changed that damn leaky faucet in the kitchen first. He would never admit it but it was beginning to drive him completely mad. He swore he could hear it dripping into the metal sink basin in his dreams.

Then he fixed the piping in the bathroom so they would stop all that god-awful clanking that practically woke up the entire complex. But after that, he figured he might as well fix the piping under the sinks as well.

That’s when you saw him. On his back, big body sprawled out as he worked underneath the cabinet, wrench in hand and soft grunts of effort coming from him. His t-shirt rose up just a bit, exposing a small stretch of tummy and his happy trail. Every once in a while, you could see his muscles flex and it made your mouth go completely dry. 

You felt like a Victorian man seeing his first ankle on a woman. Ridiculous. 

Sure, you’d seen Simon shirtless countless times – hell, you walked in on him completely naked once or twice. But there was something particularly…delicious about him like this. Unaware, casual, just doing work. 

It made a swell of heat settle in your abdomen. You squeezed your thighs together as you watched him. His biceps flexed and bulged, making the sleeve of his t-shirt grow taut around his skin. His muscles moved underneath the tattoos inked into his skin. 

You dragged your eyes down his body, past his pecs, past the sliver of tummy. You imagined yourself crawling between those thick thighs and unbuckling his belt, tugging at the button of his jeans. You imagined getting to see his cock chub up inside his boxers before you would pull it out and wrap your lips around the leaking tip. 

Salty, you imagine. You’ve always heard that men’s cum and pre-cum would be salty. Would Simon’s taste as bad as some of your friends had told you back in highschool? You hoped not. You couldn’t imagine not enjoying every part of him – even his cum.

You wanted him to shoot in your mouth, let you taste it. You wanted to milk it out of him, give him no choice but to cum down your throat.

“Are you just going to stand there or do you need something?” his voice startled you out of your thoughts.

Wide eyed, you looked to meet his gaze but you found he wasn’t even looking at you, still staring at the piped overhead.

“Um,” you cleared your throat, floundering for an excuse as to why you were ogling him like a piece of meat, “I didn’t want to interrupt you. I-I was just wanting to make sure the shower was okay to use?”

He grunts, letting out a soft sigh  before pushing himself out from under the sink, closing the cabinet before wiping his brow with the back of his hand, “Yeah, go ahead and shower, love.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile, casting one last glance to see that his t-shirt had fallen back into place. Disappointing. 

You trudge out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. Softly, you close the door and turn on the shower. The pipes don’t clang when the water shoots through them. It brings a smile to your face.

Once you’re stripped and standing under the warm spray, you let your hands wander your body. First, you cup your breasts, watching your nipples harden under your own touch before you slide one hand between your thighs. There’s a slickness between your folds that's distinctly different from the water, it’s slippery and sticky. But it makes your touch against your clit easy. 

You bite your lips to keep quiet, scared to death that Simon could hear you from under the sound of the water. You make quick, tight little circles against your clit. The bud is hard and twitches under your fingers. It makes the breath stutter out of your chest. 

You need more room, you realize, hiking your foot up onto a shelf. It spreads you open just a little more, gives you a little more access for your fingers to play. You sigh, head tipping forward to watch as you circle your own clit. 

But the more you touch yourself, the faster that tingling, warm sensation dissipates. You huff through your clenched teeth, frustrated. 

Usually, you could at least feel the beginning of that peak forming but this time…not even close. So you shamefully close your legs and go about your shower as if nothing happened, taking care to wash the slick from between your thighs especially.

As you lay in bed that night, Simon breathing deeply beside you as he slept, you were lost in thought. 

Surely, you were in the wrong for thinking about Simon like that – for getting wet at the sight of him. And then sleeping soundly next to him as if you weren’t some kind of pervert. Maybe you should just confess and apologize to him. 

No. You quickly admonish that thought, glancing over at his prone form. You couldn’t bear to see him be disgusted by you. He’d already rejected you years ago, finalized it and put the nail in the coffin so you would never be dumb enough to do it again. 

What would he do if he found out about your…attraction to him? He practically lived with you now, after everything happened. He was in your flat more than he was on base now. It was only a matter of time before he caught you with your hands dancing in your pants. 

Your cheeks flushed at the idea. Part of you thought it hot – for him to find you needy like that, desperately playing with your clit as you try to make yourself cum. 

But on the other hand, you could see the wrinkle of disgust in his brow and sneer on his face as he walked away. That outcome was not worth it, you decided. 

With a sigh, you rolled over so your back faced Simon and closed your eyes for the night. 

You both should have known better that the fragile peacefulness between the two of you was just that – fragile, balancing on a delicate precipice that could shatter at any moment. 

The ring of his phone was the break. 

“Answer that for me, love!” he called from the kitchen where he was busy preparing dinner. 

You leaned forward to check the number. It wasn’t in his contacts but Simon never got calls from people unless he knew them. So you slowly slid the button over and accepted the call. 

“Hello?” you mumbled into the phone.

There was a beat of silence before a woman’s voice responded in kind, “Hello?”

“Um…” you swallowed down the apprehension that settled in your chest, casting a glance towards Simon’s back as he stood over the stove, “Who may I ask is calling?”

“I’m looking for Simon,” she said, sounding much more coy than a second ago. She knew his real name and that irked you. People from work always referred to him as Ghost, only those he considered trustworthy or friends were privy to calling him Simon. 

“Um, he’s busy at the moment, can I take a message?” you ask, loud enough for Simon to hear in the kitchen if he was interested in intervening. But he didn’t move. 

“Sure!” she giggled, “Tell him that Victoria really wants to see him again and to call me so we can!”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, “Y-Yeah, sure. I’ll let him know…”

“Thank you,” she cooed in a sultry tone, “Oh! And tell him I really had a great time last time we were together and that I’m looking forward to a repeat performance.”

“Yeah. I’ll do that,” you assured, hoping you didn’t sound as tense as you felt. 

She giggled before the call disconnected and you were left glaring at his stupid stock phone wallpaper.

“Who was it?” Simon comes to the archway of the kitchen, leaning against the wall. You can’t hear anything cooking anymore so you assume he’s finished dinner.

“Victoria,” you spit the name out like it’s poisonous, “Says she wants to see you again and she had a fantastic time with you last time.”

Simon shifts where he stands, looking down at his feet before looking back up to you, “Alright. I’ll call her back later.”

That sends knives straight through your heart. It aches so badly that you want to bite your own tongue off to make it stop. 

Jealousy, you realize. You’re fucking jealous. Some girl calls and asks for his dick and he just says okay? 

He’s not yours, you tell yourself. He can fuck whoever he wants. 

But that does nothing to quell the inferno raging inside you. 

There’s other feelings brewing inside you; rejection, fear, loss.

You feel bitter that you’re right there and he would still never choose you. He’ll always choose someone else because he doesn’t see you like that. It feels like he’s throwing it in your face, just spitting at you to show you that he doesn’t love you like you love him. He never has and he never will. You’ll never be an option to him because he doesn’t want you.

Then you’re scared he’s going to leave you. He’s going to go to this Victoria chick and leave you all alone so he can get his dick wet again. Just like last time. Maybe he’ll like it so much he wants to stay with her. Maybe he’s going to leave you behind so he can start a new, happy life without having to worry about the dead weight that’s been dragging him down since he was 8. You. His responsibility. His problem. 

You’re so scared that he’s going to be ripped from your grasp. That you’re going to lose him to someone else and it’s going to be you and your pathetic one-sided love for the rest of your life. Fuck, you’ve loved him since you were 4. You’ve loved him for so long that it makes you nauseous to think about. How many people loved one person for this long? 

Please, you wanted to cry to him, please love me. 

Please, just love me back.

“So you’re gonna go then?’ you finally find your voice, bitterness and resentment thick in your tone, “You’re gonna leave me to go to a booty call again?”

He stands up straight at that. Arms cross over his chest, he watches that way you glare at him, heated and teary-eyed. Hurt. 

He knew you still weren’t over the way he left you that time – when you needed him the most. You’d been ignoring the residual hurt that lingered, intent on pretending that everything was fine. He had been doing his best to make up for it but it always felt like one step forward and two steps back with you. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures softly, “I’ll call her back to tell her that it won’t happen.”

He tries his best to remain level-headed and soft, to be reassuring like he knows you need. But your expression doesn’t change. You continue to glare at him with that furious, hurt look in your eyes. 

Suddenly, you stand. 

“I don’t believe you,” you hiss, turning your back to him, storming down the hallway. 

He almost winces when he hears how hard you slam the bedroom door. He thinks about going back there to talk to you but decides against it. You need some space to calm yourself down. 

He eats the dinner he made for both of you alone, putting your half in the fridge for later. He goes about the apartment, locking the door and turning out all the lights. Then he gets to the bedroom door and goes to turn the knob and it doesn’t budge. 

Despite himself, he laughs. He jiggles the knob, jerks the door a little harder like it’ll open with a bit of force. And it might, it’s a flimsy ass door if he’s being honest – he’s forced bigger and heavier doors open before. 

He snaps your name, humor gone from his voice. You don’t answer. 

“Open the damn door,” he snaps, trying the knob again. He gets silence in return so he slams his fist against the surface. The sound is loud enough that it makes his own ears ring, “I said open the door. I’m not playin’ this game with you, sweetheart.”

“Sleep on the couch, Simon!” he hears your wobbly voice call back. Of course you’re in there crying, he thinks.

“I’m not sleepin’ on the fuckin’ couch,” he hisses, leaning his forearm against the door, resting his head against it with a sigh, “Open the door and let’s talk.”

“Don’t wanna talk to you,” you whine, bratty as all hell. He would have laughed if he wasn’t so damn pissed, “Why don’t you go sleep with Victoria since you like her so much.”

You don’t know why you say that last part. You don’t want him to go to her, you don’t want him to go anywhere. The thought of it brings more tears to your eyes. 

Simon is silent on the other side of the door for a long while. You almost think he walked away and succumbed to the couch. You wouldn’t actually let him sleep on that awful thing, of course. You just…you don’t know what the end goal here is, if you’re honest.

“Fine,” he finally spits, “If that’s what you want, I’ll fuck off and find Victoria.”

You hear the floorboards creak under his weight as he walks away. You sit up straight in bed at that, eyes wide as you listen to him stalk through the house. You swear you hear the jingle of his keys and that’s what has you lurching out of bed in a panic.

You almost trip over the sheets as they tangle around your legs but you manage to free yourself and wrench the door open.

“Simon!” you practically shriek, rounding the corner of the hallway to find him standing with his back to you, facing the door.

He’s got his hoodie and mask on, boots firmly on his feet and keys in hand. He stands still, back straight as his shoulders rise and fall with his breathing. But he waits.

“Don’t go,” you find yourself whimpering, “‘M sorry. Come to bed, okay?”

He doesn’t move and that makes your heart pound in your chest. You know he’s pissed, can see it in the way his fists stay clenched at his sides. His fingers twitch and he makes a move for the doorknob and you surge forward, wrapping yourself around his other arm, yanking him away from the door as hard as you can. 

He lets your weight knock him off balance, lets you drag him away from the door. He lets you tug him down the hallway, sniffling and crying as you do. 

“J-Just…” you find yourself frantically tugging his mask off, tossing it away before you rip the hem of his hoodie up. He doesn’t help you or fight you as you try to take it off of him. He just stares blankly at you, like he’s assessing you. You hate it. “G-Get ready for bed, okay? Just…we can go to sleep.”

“Why do you make this so fuckin’ hard for me?” he finally breaks his silence, the question cold and calculating. Like he’s tired. Exhausted, “I keep tryin’ to make it up to you. But every time something goes wrong, you throw everything back in my face and you act like you hate me again. I can’t keep…” he trails off, shaking his head before he sits at the foot of the bed, hands clasped together and head hanging between his shoulders.

“I love you,” you blurt out, a sob breaking out of your lips as you do. Simon doesn’t move. Your hands cover your eyes, as if being blind to his reaction will make the rejection hurt less, “I love you and i-it just keeps messing me up inside. I’m sorry.”

“You love me?” he asks, still no emotion in his voice. 

When you peek at him, he’s in the same position as before, hands clasped, elbows on his knees, head bowed. You have no idea what expression he’s wearing and you’re scared to find out.

“Yes,” you hiccup, sniffling softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” he asks softly, almost solemnly.

“I promised,” you cry, another choked sob escaping you. 

“Promised..?” he doesn’t sound cold anymore, just confused, “The fuck’re you talkin’ about?”

“W-When I was 14,” you whimper, shame filling you as you recall your now-broken promise, “I-I told you I liked you and you said you didn’t feel the same. You told me to never bring it up again and I promised I wouldn’t. B-But…” you sobbed again, stopping yourself from finishing the sentence.

“Fuckin’ hell…” he breathes, bringing his hands to his face, scrubbing them up and down vigorously in a way that looks like it hurts. Then he laughs. 

He fucking laughs. 

It’s like your worst fears come to light. He’s laughing at you, at your confession. At your feelings. A fresh wave of tears fill your eyes and fall down your cheeks. You bite your lips to keep from making your sobs audible anymore. You didn’t want him to laugh at that too. You hang your head, wringing your hands together behind your back anxiously as Simon quiets down. 

“Shit,” he breathes, getting to his feet. He stands before you, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. He frowns when he sees the utter despair on your face, the heartbreak in your eyes, “No, baby. No, no. I wasn’t laughin’ at you.”

Baby. You catch onto it. He’s never called you that before. 

You dash the spark of hope that it causes. 

He rubs his thumbs under your eyes, wiping the tears away. 

Then, he leans forward and slots his lips against yours. 

It’s like fireworks explode in your chest. Your heart races so fast that you feel lightheaded. You can’t even respond to the kiss in time before he pulls away, your mind is moving too fast for you to process any meaningful thought. But he kissed you. 

Simon kissed you.

“What?” you finally manage to whisper, looking up with wide, shocked eyes, “Why did you..?”

He looks confused for a second, still cupping your cheeks as he looks into your watery eyes, “You really have no idea?” Your brows furrow immediately and you shake your head, “How I feel about you?”

“You feel..?” you dumbly repeat. 

He smiles softly, thumb rubbing softly over your cheekbone, “You really think I don’t feel the same?”

“B-But when…when we were kids I…” you stumble over your words, the truth you’ve believed this entire time seemingly false, “You s-said you didn’t feel the same.”

“Jesus, love,” he huffs softly in disbelief, “You were fourteen. I was seventeen. You were way too fuckin’ young for me, it wouldn’t have been right.”

“B-But then…” you stutter, reaching up to wipe your cheek, “When did you..?”

He shrugs, “Not sure exactly. Suppose sometime after you turned 20 was when I realized I felt somethin’ for you.”

“So you really…” you whisper, snagging your hands into his hoodie to pull him close, “You really…I mean…”

“Love you?” he smiles softly, “Of course I do.”

You lean forward and press your lips to his. He hums, wrapping one strong arm around your middle to pull you even closer. His lips work magically over yours, taking control of the kiss with ease. You easily melt into it, following his lead. It’s not as easy as you thought it would be and you hope Simon doesn’t notice. 

But he does, of course he does. 

He pulls away and smooths the palm of his hand down your cheek before it comes to rest on your jaw. His thumb slides over your bottom lip and he hums.

“You ever kissed before?” he asks, voice calm and level with no teasing to it at all.

Still, heat explodes all over your face. Embarrassment overrides the euphoria of your requited feelings. You try to pull away but Simon’s much stronger and he won’t let go unless he wants to. 

“Hey, don’t run,” he coos softly, turning your face to look back up at him, “I was just askin’.”

“No,” you mumble, still burning with embarrassment, “I-I’ve only ever liked you so…”

“Fuckin’ hell…” he whispers, letting you step back just a bit so he can look over you, “Is that right?”

“You should know that,” you mumble, feeling small under his scrutiny, “You know everything about me.”

“Didn’t think datin’ history was somethin’ you felt like sharin’,” he shrugged off.

“Well, now you know,” you mutter, your gaze glued to the floor.

“That I do,” he hums in agreement, reaching out to brush a hand down the length of your arm. 

A soft, quietness falls over the two of you. You’re not sure what to do and it seems he’s content where he is. He’s watching you, tracking every little shift and fidget you make until he finally seems to take pity on you.

“Let’s get to bed,” he says softly, giving you a soft nudge towards the bed. 

You take the opportunity to dive into bed, yanking the blanket over you as Simon strips himself out of his boots and hoodie. You go to look away as he yanks his belt free with practiced hands but you can’t seem to. He slips the belt out of the loops and drops it on the dresser before unbuttoning his jeans and slipping them off. 

Your mouth waters at the sight of him in a tight pair of navy boxer-briefs slung low on his hips. You can make out the shape of his–

“Enjoyin’ the view?” he mumbles half-heartedly as he turns to root through the dresser to find some sweatpants. 

“Sorry…” you mutter shamefully at being caught. 

He chuckles under his breath, pulling the sweats on before he rounds to his side of the bed and drops onto the mattress, “Nothin’ to be sorry about.”

He leans over you and turns out the tableside lamp. Then he settles into his pillow with a soft sigh.

“Si..?” you whisper.

“Yeah?” you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Are we um…” you clear your throat, “I mean like…are we…together now..?”

You feel him roll over and toss his arms around you. You squeak when he tugs you towards him roughly, securing you against his chest before he kisses the top of your head.

“Do you want to be together?” he asks, muffled by his lips pressed against you. 

“Yes,” you whisper quickly, wrapping yourself around him almost possessively.

He tilts your head up and carefully slots his mouth over yours again. You sigh happily at the feeling. 

You notice that he keeps it a lot slower than he had before, moving his lips carefully against yours. Like he’s trying to make it easier for you to keep up. It makes your cheeks flush again but you sink into the pillow and let him kiss all he wants as you do your best to match his movements. 

His body shifts, torso hovering over you as he rests his weight on his elbows on either side of your head. Your hands rest against his shoulders and simply get lost in the kiss. 

After a moment, he deepens the kiss, sinking into you with his chest pressed against yours. You whimper and wrap your arms around his neck, carding your fingers through his cropped hair. 

One of his hands moves, coming to grip your waist, fingers sliding up the hem of your shirt. It’s like a dream come true. Literally. 

All those nights you spent with your hand between your thighs, thinking of him. Thinking of him touching you like this – with his hand sliding your shirt up a little further every second. You even feel that familiar wetness soaking your panties.

Then why was your heart racing from anxiety instead of excitement? Why did you feel a fearful tremble setting in your thighs, as if your knees would be knocking together if you were standing. Why were you scared?

Before you can stop yourself, you’re shoving your hands against his chest with a weak, “No!”

Simon is off of you in seconds but you can feel his gaze on you in the darkness. You struggle to catch your breath as you lay there, heart pounding in your ears. Your head hurts, you realize with a wince.

“Um…” you find yourself attempting to appease him, “I-I don’t…I’m sorry, I…”

“It’s alright,” he whispers sincerely, settling down into bed with a content hum, “Nothin’ to worry about, love.”

You scoot closer to him and hesitantly place your head on his chest. Simon’s arm wraps around your back and tucks you even more snug against him. You close your eyes and will yourself to relax and sleep as you feel Simon’s comforting hand rubbing your back. 

Neither of you talk about it in the morning. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. You don’t bring it up, even though you want to, and Simon doesn’t try touching you like that again. Part of you wants him to, you’ve been dreaming about his touch for years but once you finally get it, you freak out?

You can’t stop beating yourself up over it. 

But then you think about the anxiety that it had caused. The apprehension. How uncomfortable it felt – how you wanted his hands off of you. 

You sighed, flopping onto your side on the couch where you sat. Your mind was buzzing annoyingly from your thoughts. 

Regardless of your problems, you were happier than ever with him. He was finally yours. Wholly and truly yours. It was bliss. 

“Got a call,” Simon says, snapping you out of your daze, “Gotta leave.”

That makes you sit up, “Leave?”

You finally notice that he’s got his bag packed – the one he only takes when he’s getting deployed. You’re on your feet in seconds, following him to the door. He’s wearing his skull balaclava so all you can see are his eyes – sad, apologetic.

“H-How long?” you ask, unable to ignore the ache in your chest as you watch him.

“Few weeks, probably,” he mutters, placing the bag down so he can tuck his feet into his boots.

He straightens up with a grunt before turning to you. He sighs, gloved hands cupping your cheeks when he sees how sad you look – like a kicked puppy. You wish you could feel his bare hands on you but can’t find it in you to ask. 

“I don’t want you to go,” you find yourself mumbling.

It’s selfish and even a bit cruel of you to voice that desire. Simon’s thumb strokes your cheek in that sweet way he always does and you melt into him. He lets you thump your head against his chest as you suppress your cries, biting your lip so you can keep your tears at bay. 

“I know,” he softly whispers, stroking your back as you cling to him, “I know, but I have to.”

“I know,” you mumble, finally looking up at him. You know your eyes are glassy and you make sure to blink back the tears so they never overflow, “Just be safe and come home, okay?”

He lifts his mask up just enough to expose his lips before he leans down to kiss you. It’s a whole body experience this time. He clutches you against him like his life depends on it, gloved hands fiercely gripping the back of your t-shirt. His lips move smoothly against yours, hand coming up to cup your jaw so he can tilt your head and pull you even deeper into his kiss. He pulls away when he needs to breathe, smiling when he sees the dazed, lovesick expression on your face. He tugs his mask down and lets you go but you stay as close to him as possible. 

“Make sure you stay warm,” he coos, “Gonna start gettin’ real cold in a couple days.”

“I will, Si,” you assure him.

“Left some cash for you to do your shoppin’,” he adds, “I know you’re a shit cook but I left a list of some easy recipes. Don’t burn the flat down.”

You snort and playfully smack his shoulder, “I’ll just buy some cup noodles in that case.”

He rolls his eyes, pinching your side to make you gasp from the ticklish feeling, “Don’t even think about it.”

Your grin falters when his phone makes that obnoxious beeping noise that lets you know it’s something urgent. He sighs, the tranquil happiness between you two broken immediately. He kisses your forehead through his mask and pulls the front door open.

“Keep this locked,” he mutters, stepping past the threshold, “I’ll be home soon.”

He closes the door and you’re left with an emptiness that overcomes you. You’ve always been scared for him when he has to go off on missions – you know that his job is extremely dangerous and he could lose his life at any moment. That thought alone makes a nauseous pit settle in your stomach. You push down the feeling of bile rising in the back of your throat and click the lock on the door with a sigh before you go about your day, trying your best to keep your mind off of him and where he might be in the world. 

True to his word, however, the temperature drops bitterly cold within 2 days after he leaves. There had already been a chill in the air that drove you to turn the heating on just a bit but now it was full blast. But now, it was dipping to freezing and you were anticipating the arrival of snow soon enough as well. 

You wake up one morning, however, and your apartment is bitterly cold. You sit up, confused before climbing out of bed. Your feet are immediately freezing as you step onto the floor. You hiss, wrapping your arms around yourself as you stumble over to the radiator in your room. You touch it and find absolutely no heat emanating from it. 

All the radiators are the same. Absolutely no heat. 

You curse, realizing you have no idea what you’re supposed to do. You curl up on the couch under a heavy throw blanket as you type with bitterly cold fingers into Google, looking for anything that can help you. But it’s to no avail. You can’t understand a thing. 

Your next thought is to call the building manager but you know that’s pointless. The useless man never actually helps with any work for his tenants. 

There’s no way in hell that you can afford to call someone to come and fix the problem. You have money for groceries but if you spent that you wouldn’t have anything to eat. You sigh, resolving yourself to bundling up and trying to stay as warm as you can. 

You pile all the blankets you have into bed and pick out only your thickest, warmest sweaters. 

This is going to be miserable, you think. 

The snow comes just a short week later and it feels even colder. You venture out of your flat to go to the grocery store, picking up ingredients for the dishes Simon wrote down for you and also some cans of soup that you can cook to stay warm. You also throw some boxes of tea and some hot chocolate in with it, figuring why not. Warm drinks will help. 

It’s almost 3 weeks of living like that. It’s miserable and makes your bones ache from how stiff the cold makes you feel. You make sure to eat nice, hot food to keep yourself warm and make frequent cups of warm drinks so you can keep your hands warm for as long as you can. You do your best. 

The worst is showers, though. When you’re standing under the blisteringly hot spray, it’s bliss. But the second you step out and your wet body is hit with the freezing air, you couldn’t have felt more miserable. 

The night Simon walks through the door, he finds you bundled up on the couch sipping a cup of hot chocolate. 

“Simon!” you gasp excitedly, tossing the blankets off to take a running leap at him. 

He huffs contentedly when he catches you in his arms, letting you embrace him for as long as you need. He strips his mask off and brings you in for a delicate kiss.

“Let me wash up,” he mumbles, stalking through the apartment.

“Um, before you do, Si,” you catch him at the entrance to the hallway. He turns to you and looks at you with a brow raised, “The um…heating is broken so…just letting you know when you come out of the shower it’s gonna suck.”

“Ain’t nothin’ I haven’t dealt with before,” he mutters and pauses, “The fuck you mean it’s broken?”

“Heating cut off a few weeks ago…” you shrug, wrapping your arms around yourself as you start to feel the cold creep in again.

“A few weeks ago?” he hisses, running a stressed hand through his hair, “Fuckin’ hell. You didn’t call someone to fix it?”

You pout as he raises his voice, clearly frustrated, “I couldn’t afford it, Si! I had the money you gave me for food but I wasn’t gonna spend that to get the heating fixed. You know the building manager is a piece of shit, not like he was gonna call someone.”

He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, seemingly thinking something over. Then he turns on his heel and storms into the bathroom, slamming the door.

“I’m sorry, Simon!” you call through the door, “I didn’t know what else to do! Please, don’t be mad.”

The shower turns on and all you can do is look up and sigh in exasperation. The second he’s home and he’s already pissed at you. 

You sulk over to the couch and flop down, tossing your blankets over you as you grab your mug. The hot chocolate is still warm but not as hot as it was. It’ll have to do.

Simon comes out of the shower, gets dressed warmly, and joins you in the living room. He doesn’t even look at you as he makes a move for his bag that he left by the door. You almost think he’s going to scoop the bag up and storm out the door. You sit up, ready to stop him but instead, he stoops down and zips it open. He pulls out his wallet and approaches you. 

“What are you doing?” you mumble, watching him flip the thing open.

It’s old and worn, a simple black leather wallet. He’s had it for as long as you could remember and you’ve put the poor thing through the washer and dryer so many times that you’re shocked it's still intact. 

He pulls out a bank card and promptly hands it to you. Your brain stutters to a stop as you look at it.

“Take it, fuck sake,” he mutters. He sounds annoyed but the way he looks away and his ears turn pink you can tell he’s…shy. 

Simon Riley is fucking shy right now.

You take the bank card out of his hand and look at it, flipping over in your hands, “Why are you giving this to me?”

“So you can use it,” he mumbles, slamming his wallet shut and tossing it onto the table, “That way, in case anything happens you can withdraw from my account for what you need. If an emergency happens and I’m not around, use it.”

“Simon…” you mumble, looking up at him, “Are you sure..?”

“Course I’m sure,” he scoffs, taking a seat beside you before softly rattling off four digits.

“Huh?” you dumbly ask.

“It’s my pin,” he responds, grabbing one of the blankets you have piled on the couch and tossing it on his lap.

“That’s my birthday…” you say softly as you repeat the numbers over and over in your head, “Your bank pin is my birthday?”

He snatches the remote up from the table and turns the TV on without another word. But you can see how pink the tips of his ears are. It makes you beam and before you know it, you’re curling snugly into his side. 

“Love you, Si,” you whisper, earning a kiss to the top of your head in response.

Simon calls the next morning to have someone come by and fix the damn heating. You listen to the man rattle off some information to Simon about what the problem was but it makes virtually no sense to you so you resolve yourself to sitting on the couch and waiting until it’s warm again. 

But even when it’s nice and toasty inside, you still plaster yourself to Simon’s side, snuggling as close to him as you possibly can.

“I want you to meet my team,” Simon says one morning while he’s making some eggs. 

You’re standing by the toaster, waiting for it to pop up but his words make you turn to him, “You mean 141?”

“Who else?” he huffs, flipping one of the eggs. It sizzles loudly in the pan, “They wanted me to go out with them tonight. Thought you could join us.”

“Really?” you realize how incredulous you sound and then try again, “I mean really? That’s okay with you?”

He nods, plating the eggs, “I think it’s time they met you.”

“I-I’d love to,” you say, unable to hide the excitement you feel. 

You catch a slip of a smile on Simon’s face before the toast pops up and distracts you. 

You have to dig into your closet that evening, after a shower, to find something nice to wear. You figure an occasion like this calls for something a little nicer than just jeans and a t-shirt like you usually wear. But you can’t find much of anything. 

“What’re you huffin’ about in  here?” Simon asks when he walks in, towel wrapped around his waist. He’s still dripping wet from the shower and you can feel the way your mouth fills with saliva at the sight. 

“I uh…don’t know what to wear…” you respond, turning your back to him just as he slips the towel off. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, imagining Simon completely naked behind you.

“Wear those nice jeans you got,” he mumbles, grunting as he gets himself dressed, “And that little blue top you got.”

“The cropped one?” you ask incredulously, a brow raised as you turn to him. He’s got some jeans on now and he’s meticulously unfolding a black t-shirt so he can put it on, “I haven’t worn that in a while, how’d you even remember it?”

He shrugs, the muscles in his back rippling with his movement before he tosses the shirt over his head and pulls it down, covering his skin once again, “It’s cute. We’re just goin’ to the pub, love.”

“Okay,” you mumble, reaching into the back of your closet to pull the little shirt out, “If you’re sure this will be okay.”

“I’m sure,” he chuckles softly, grabbing his balaclava off the dresser. But he doesn’t put it on yet. Instead, he sits on the bed and watches you change.

You’re acutely aware of his eyes on you as you strip your shirt off. You keep your back to him, trying to ignore your racing heart. You don’t feel uncomfortable at all, instead you feel…excited. 

Your mind runs wild, imagining him stepping up behind you, kissing your neck and cupping your bare breasts in his big hands. They’re a little rough from his line of work and you wonder what they’d feel like against the sensitive skin of your tits, thumbing your nipples and pinching them a little meanly. 

“C-Can you hand me a bra?” you find yourself asking.

He grunts in acknowledgement and the bed creaks when his weight moves off it. He opens one of the drawers and is behind you in a second. His body heat permeates through his shirt as he presses his chest against your back. 

He slings your bra over your shoulder, holding it with one finger by the strap. You can’t help but tilt your head back to look up at him. He’s towering over you, pretty, brown eyes looking down his nose at you. 

You realize in this position, he could clearly see your breasts but he keeps his eyes on yours. You take the bra from him and he lets you, simply staring into your eyes with that stern silence he has about him.

“T-Thanks…” you find yourself whispering, mouth feeling particularly dry.

He grunts, lips quirked up just a bit before he turns his back and walks back to the bed. You let out a quiet, slow breath, willing your heart rate to go back to normal.

Simon was so exhilarating. Just being around him sets your heart racing and fingers trembling. 

You put your bra on and slip your top over your head, ignoring the sticky feeling in your panties as you do. 

“I don’t know, Si,” you mutter, turning to face him, “I-It’s a little tight on me now.”

The fabric once hugged you nicely but now it was snug. It molded around your breasts, even showing the lines of your bra. The neckline was low, giving a good show of cleavage – it didn’t help that Simon picked one of your more well padded bras. 

Simon looks up, his eyes immediately falling to your breasts. He sucks in a quick breath and looks away, licking his lips.

“Looks fine,” he mutters, standing to pull one of the drawers open again. He searches for a second, brows furrowed until he pulls out the jeans he was talking about. The ‘nice jeans’ as he called them, were just some low rise jeans you’d only worn about 4 times.

You look dumbly at them as he drops them into your hands.

“These?” you scoff, “Simon, I can’t–”

He quiets you with a kiss to your forehead, “Trust me, love.”

He steps out of the room after that, leaving you to your own devices. You’re thankful that you can change your panties without him seeing how saturated and sticky they’ve become because of him. You bury them in the laundry basket and remind yourself that you should do the laundry before he does because you’d be mortified if he found them. 

You don’t even look at yourself in the mirror, afraid you’ll feel too self-conscious if you see what you look like. But you trust Simon’s judgment on what he thinks would look good on you – and you can’t deny that dressing up how he likes feels nice. 

You step into the living room, intent on pulling your shoes on when Simon catches you with an arm around your waist. You gasp as he turns you to face him.

“You look lovely,” he whispers, smoothing his hands up your sides, thumbs slipping under the hem of your shirt to stroke your skin.

You swallow thickly as your heart starts racing in your chest again. He leans down and pecks your lips but pulls back before you have the chance to kiss back. 

“Let’s go,” is all he adds before walking away, leaving you no choice but to follow like the lovesick puppy you are. 

Walking into the bar, your heart pounds painfully in your chest from pure anxiety. Your hand is clasped tightly in Simon’s as he easily moves through the crowd. You suppose his height makes it easy to see over people. 

“You alright?” he asks, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Haven’t been in a bar since I worked at…” you trail off, giving him a half-hearted shrug.

“If you wanna leave, just say the word,” he mutters, giving your hand a squeeze.

“N-No,” you shake your head, shooting him a wobbly smile,”I wanna meet your team at least.”

He smiles reassuringly and gives your hand a tug to encourage you to follow him. He leads you right to a table situated in a corner, three men laughing and drinking. 

“There he is!” the one with the mohawk cheeks, holding up his pint in celebration.

“Shut up, Soap,” Simon grumbles petulantly as he pulls out a chair for you.

Soap, you note to yourself. You know them by name but you’ve never actually seen the faces to put to them. Soap looks like you imagined, a broad grin and pretty, bright eyes – you imagined them green but they’re blue. 

“And who is this lovely companion of yours, Simon?” an older man with a hat and mutton chops asks with a kind smile, eyes on you.

Simon says your name before he sits down with a grunt beside you.

“Price,” your boyfriend supplies when you look curiously at him.

The man in question holds out a hand which you take and softly shake, “Nice to meet you.”

“Had no idea Lt. had someone waitin’ for him at home,” Soap says, a teasing lilt in his voice. 

So you’ve met Soap, Price, and that leaves; your eyes land on the quiet guy sitting back in his chair, a cool smile on his lips. He meets your gaze and his smile broadens – not teasing like Soap’s but purely kind.

“You can call me Kyle,” he gives you a polite nod.

“Gaz, then?” you question, tilting your head to the side. Kyle looks surprised, eyes flicking to Simon who shifts uncomfortably in his chair, “He’s talked about all of you before. I only know your call signs though.”

“John will do fine if you’d like,” Price says, tipping his beer back to take a chug.

“Simon calls me Johnny,” Soap adds, “You’re welcome to as well. Anyone important to the Lieutenant is important to us.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Simon roll his eyes. It makes you smile. He leans over, nudging you with his knee, “You want anything to drink? I need one.”

“No thank you, Si,” you reply, intent on having a clear head for the night. You’ve never been much of a drinker anyway. 

When Simon’s gone from the table, you suddenly feel incredibly out of place. Price and Kyle have the decency to not stare you down but Soap seems keen on keeping his baby blue’s right on you and a goofy little smile on his face.

“Um…” you shift uncomfortably as you look back at him.

“We’ve never gotten to meet anyone from Ghost’s private life before,” Soap says, saving you from having to think of what to say, “Just shocked s’all.” 

“You’re gonna start giving the poor thing the creeps with your ugly mug,” Kyle chuckles which also makes Soap laugh.

“Sorry about that,” Soap lifts his glass and cheers to you before tipping it back. 

He grimaces slightly as it goes down before slamming his glass back on the table.

“It’s alright,” you respond, “Si’s not really the open book kind. So I understand.”

“How long have the two of you known each other?” Kyle asks.

You find yourself wondering where the hell Simon even is but answer regardless, “Since we were kids. Um, we lived next door. His mom and mine were friends, I guess.”

Soap nods his head, elbows on the table as he gives you his full attention, “You guess?”

You hum, “I’m 3 years younger than Simon. The way it was told to me by my mom is that…his mom came over and,” you couldn’t fight back the smile as you recalled the story.

“Oh this has got to be good,” Soap nudged Kyle excitedly at your grin.

“Told my mom that Simon didn’t have any friends and that he was a…soft-hearted boy and she wanted him to have some friends,” you giggle, holding a hand in front of your face to hide your laughter, “So she wanted to set up playdates with me even though I was still a baby. My mom didn’t have the heart to tell her no.”

Soap tosses his head back and laughs, “No fuckin’ way.”

“I’m shocked to say it but that actually makes him sound cute,” Kyle adds, unable to hide the laughter in his voice either.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Price says, but there’s a smile on his face, “Simon’ll knock you out cold on this table.”

“So you and Simon have been together since?” Kyle asks, glass cupped in both hands.

You nod, “Only time we’ve been apart is when he enlisted and had to go off for a few years to train.”

Soap opens his mouth to say something but a large figure finally drops down into the seat next to you. Simon has a glass of bourbon and a glass that he slides over to Soap who catches it with ease.

“Thanks, Lt,” he nods, taking a sip before making that disgusted face again.

“What are you lot talkin’ about?” Simon asks, drumming his fingers against his glass.

“We were discussin’ all your dirty secrets,” Kyle teases with a charming grin.

“Nothin’ too damning I hope,” Simon huffs before he takes a large gulp of his drink. 

The other three men all hide their grins behind their glasses. 

The anxiety you had felt at the beginning of the night is long gone. The task force is full of jokes and laughs and even Simon seems like a different person. 

With you, he’s kind and even soft. He’s by no means gentle or patient. 

But this side of Simon is so jovial and comfortable that it warms your heart to see. He drinks a few glasses and by the end of the night, he’s got a relaxed, lidded look in his eyes that lets you know he’s got a bit of a buzz going on. 

“It was lovely to meet you,” Price says when you all walk out of the bar.

“I really enjoyed meeting all of you as well,” you smile, letting Simon tuck you into his side with an arm wrapped around your waist.

“Get him home safe,” Soap teases, your smile only widening when you hear Simon huff in annoyance. 

You bid goodbye to the three of them and make your way to the car with Simon, plucking his keys out of his hand and forcing him into the passenger seat despite his grumbled protests of how ‘he’s not that drunk’.

When the two of you finally get into your apartment, you let him lock up and turn out the lights while you go to the bedroom and get ready for bed. 

“You looked really nice tonight,” Simon mutters when he finally walks in as you crawl into bed, “I’m glad you liked them.”

“I’m glad they liked me,” you huff, leaning back into the pillows, “They were all really nice guys.”

“Yeah,” Simon hums, tugging his shirt off of his head, taking his mask with it, “They’re good people.”

You nod your head and tuck your knees to your chest while he gets undressed. He slips on a plaid pair of pajama pants and shoves the drawer closed with his hip before yanking the blanket back to make room for his large body. 

You bounce a little on the bed when he drops his weight onto it. He smacks his pillow a couple times before he lays back and sighs. It’s clear he’s still a little buzzed from the way he fights to keep his eyes open.

“Simon?” you ask, turning to face him. 

That makes his eyes open back up before he looks at you, “What?”

“Can I kiss you?” you ask. 

He snorts and it makes you smile. He reaches out and wraps his hand around the back of your head. You let him tug you down, pressing your hands against his firm chest as you kiss him. 

His hand travels down your back as he sighs into your mouth. You pull away briefly to look into his eyes before you kiss him again, this time deepening it as much as you’re able. Simon sighs contentedly, his other hand coming up to caress your arm. 

“I like kissin’ you…” you find yourself whispering against his lips.

He groans at that, the sound going straight to your core. You feel yourself clench around nothing, already starting to leak into your panties. 

“Yeah?” he coos, cupping your cheek, thumbing over your lips, “You can kiss me all you want, love.”

You whimper, surging down to kiss him again. His hands grip your waist, intermittently squeezing you, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. 

Suddenly, you feel the warm, slick slide of his tongue against your lips. You whimper and pull back, brows furrowed.

“Shh, love,” he coos, pulling you close again, “Jus’ relax and let me…”

You huff, struggling to catch your breath as he urges you to meet his lips again. You feel his tongue again and eagerly open your mouth, letting him taste the inside of your mouth. You shyly meet his tongue with yours and feel his grip on your waist tighten as he groans in his throat. 

You’re sure you’ve soaked well through your panties by now. There’s an ache in your clit that you long to reach down and relieve – or better yet, have Simon relieve. 

You bet his fingers would feel so damn good against you. You find yourself whimpering into the kiss at the thought alone. Simon lets out a husky laugh into your mouth before pulling away. 

A string of spit connects your lips before it breaks and vanishes. 

With a surge of confidence, you toss your leg over his waist. He grunts when your weight settles on his hips, on his cock. It’s chubbed up against his thigh from kissing you and he knows you can feel it. 

“What’re you doin’, baby?” he huffs, unable to stop his hands from traveling up the front of your body. 

You grab his wrist and boldly slide it under the hem of your shirt. He bites his lip to keep from moaning when he feels your bare breast fill his palm. You see the way his eyes start to roll back before he looks at you again. It makes you throb in your panties and you can’t resist grinding against him a little before he grabs your waist and stops you.

“Si…” you whimper, pressing your hands against his chest, “‘S wrong?”

“Can’t,” he clears his throat and sinks into the bed, “Can’t do this, love.”

“Why not?” you ask, feeling a pit of disappointment in your gut, “You don’t want to? I just thought…”

You feel your face burn with humiliation as you slide off of his lap. Simon lets you, simply laying there on his back, eyes closed and a knit between his brows, as he evens his breathing out. You fight back tears as you sit there, biting the inside of your lip anxiously. 

“Not…not tonight, sweetheart,” he finally says, reaching over to pet your hair, “Been drinkin’ ‘nd I want to be sober for it, yeah?”

It would have been a solid excuse if it didn’t sound so flimsy coming from his lips. Like he doesn’t even believe it himself. 

“Yeah…” you offer, giving him a wobbly smile before turning out the light. 

You’re too embarrassed to cuddle into him that night. 

“Can I ask you something?” you find yourself muttering as you relax on the couch with him, watching some old movie he picked out, “As long as you promise not to get mad.”

He snorts, taking a sip of his tea, “Won’t get mad.”

“I just want to know…” you clear your throat and sit up straight a little more, going over the question in your head, “Why did you leave that night…leave like that, just to have sex?”

He tenses up immediately, you can feel it. He shifts where he sits, spreading his legs just a little wider so he can sink deeper into the couch, “We already talked about this.”

You wince at his clipped tone, knowing you’re stepping into dangerous territory, “I know but…I want to know the real reason.”

He catches his bottom lip between his teeth and sighs, keeping his eyes trained on the TV, “You think I was lyin’ to you?”

Now he sounds mad. You quickly shake your head, “No, Si. I-I’m not trying to start a fight, I swear. I don’t think you were lying. I just think you…weren’t telling me everything.”

He sighs. You can see the way his jaw ticks when he clenches it, “Is that right?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, scooting a little closer to him, placing your hands on his chest, smoothing his shirt down a bit, “It was just…out of character for you, Si. I was really upset and you knew that. It wasn’t like you to just…leave. Just to get laid.”

He finally looks at you, just out of the corner of his eye. You meet the look, offering him an encouraging smile to show that you’re not upset or anything. 

“All night,” he finally mutters, “You’d been kickin’ in your sleep. Kept wakin’ me up.”

You nodded, a look of confusion on your face. You had no idea where this was going.

“You started sayin’ my name,'' he continued, “Moanin’ my name. Fuck, it was drivin’ me crazy.”

Your face flushes hot when you hear that. It all suddenly comes rushing back to you – what you’d been dreaming about. 

“You threw your leg over mine and I could–” he cuts himself off, his throat moving with how hard he swallows.

“Could what?” your voice comes out shockingly breathy. 

He catches it, looking at you. You can see the way his pupils widen immediately when he meets your gaze. It’s like he can see right through you, see the fact you’re dripping into your panties again. Just from this conversation alone. 

“I could feel how fuckin’ wet you were,” he brings a shaky hand up and runs it through his hair before he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Couldn’t fuckin’ deal with it. I had to…let it out somehow.”

“So you knew that I wanted you…like that?” you find yourself asking.

He scoffs and shakes his head, “Didn’t think about it like that. Figured it was just a dream and that’s all it was.”

“Wasn’t just a dream,” you assure, scooting closer to him.

Simon’s breath catches in his throat when you lean over him, resting your hand on the arm rest on his other side, letting it support your weight. You stand on your knees, making you just a little taller than him before you lean down and kiss him. 

He remains completely still, like he’s processing. His hands flounder in the air for a second before he’s carefully pushing you to sit back down. You slump against your heels and look at him, perturbed.

“Why..?”

“I need to make dinner,” he says lamely. 

“Simon…” you admonish, knowing he’s lying. 

He gets up, knees cracking as he does. He winces a little bit before he bends down to pick up the blanket that fell to the floor when he stood. You kept your eyes on him, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. You almost let him go but before you can stop him, you grab his arm. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Simon,” you mutter, “I keep trying to make things go further with you but I just keep making a fool of myself and I–”

“‘S not you,” he assures softly, taking your hand in his, “‘S all me, baby.”

“So why…” you frown, “I want you.”

He shakes his head, “Night you told me how you felt. You sounded scared.” 

You remember, the way his touch had made anxiety fill you. You had wanted him, of course, but for some reason it had just been so damn awful at the same time. You hadn’t really dwelled on why that was. 

“It wasn’t ‘cause of you, Si,” you assured, shifting so your feet were on the floor rather than under you, “I promise. I-I was just nervous, I think. That’s all.”

“I don’t want…” he licks his lips, seemingly thinking over his next words carefully before he says them slowly, “I don’t to hear you sound like that with me again. ‘S why I’ve been avoidin’ it. ‘Cause I don’t want you to get scared again.”

You shake your head, rising to your feet, stepping in front of him. You take his hands in yours and squeeze them, “I don’t want to make a fool of myself with you, Simon.”

He frowns, “You know I would never think poorly of you.”

You smile and shrug, “I know that. I think…that time was just…too soon. After that night at the bar and everything that happened. And then the fact I’m so inexperienced that it’s laughable. I think…I just wasn’t ready for it. I needed to go at my own pace and I have been.”

“I don’t want you to push yourself,” he hums, “I know that night at the bar was terrifying,” he brings a hand up to brush over your cheek, “I understand if you’re not goin’ to be ready for a long time. It’s normal to not be ready after what happened to you.”

You huff, “I’ve been trying to show you that I’ve been ready for a while now, Si. I was anxious at first, yes. But now it’s…like a good kind of nervous.”

“A good kind of nervous?” he mutters, hands moving to your hips to pull you closer. Your breath hitches in your throat and you nod dumbly, “Tell me all about it.”

“L-Like my heart races,” you breathe, “And I feel scared that I’m gonna do something silly and embarrassing but like I want to learn and…and I want to do good for you.”

“Fuck,” Simon groans, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder, “Can’t say shit like that to a man like me, love.”

“Why not?” you whimper, feeling your knees tremble in excitement when you feel his hands start to wander.

“‘Cause…” he whispers, running his hands up your sides, “Makes me think some nasty shit, sweetheart.”

You swallow thickly at the promise in his voice, “Simon…” 

You sound so wrecked already and it makes him moan softly in your ear, “Tell me about it, baby.”

Just like that, you’re spilling your guts to him, “Get so wet for you, Si, all the time. I want you so bad that it hurts.”

“Yeah?” he breathes, finally pulling his head from where he was hiding in your shoulder, tilting your chin up, “Where’s it hurt, baby? Hm? Right in that needy little cunt?”

You whimper immediately, looking up at him with wide, hazy eyes and nod, “T-Tried to touch myself. Thinkin’ about you made it hurt so I couldn’t help myself. Thought about you when I did.”

He hums as you babble to him but his mind latches onto one particular word, “Tried, baby? What do you mean "tried?”

Your cheeks burn hot at the slip up. Would he think you were silly for it?

“C-Can’t do it right,” you confess softly, hoping he doesn’t see how embarrassed you are, “Try so hard but n-nothin’ ever happens.”

Simon moans at that. Loud and unbridled, “What’re you sayin’, baby? That you can’t make yourself cum, s’that it?” You shake your head bashfully, “Fuckin’ hell. That’s adorable.”

“D-Don’t tease me, Si,” you whimper but the seat of your panties is so fucking wet that it’s sticking to you. 

He hums, a predatory smile spreads across his face, “Am I bein’ mean, love?” You nod your head, tearfully staring up at him. It only makes his smile widen, canines popping out, “‘M sorry. Can’t help myself when you tell me ‘bout how you touch your pretty little pussy and just can’t make yourself cum like you need. Think I can do it for you, hm? Want me to try and make you cum?”

You vigorously nod your head, uncaring how fucking needy you look to him. He’s offering to give you what you’ve wanted for years – to give you a real, honest to God orgasm. And you weren’t going to let this chance slip away. 

“Want you on the bed,” he suddenly whispers, “On your back, lose the pants but keep everything else on.”

With a jerk of his head in the direction of the bedroom, you take off. You hear him chuckle behind you at your excitement. He makes sure the door is locked before he heads back to the bedroom. 

You’re there just like he asked, pants pooled on the floor, leaving you in nothing but an old t-shirt of his and a pair of the cutest little lilac colored panties he’s seen. You’ve got your knees pinned together, clenching your thighs but laying perfectly still in waiting for him. 

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he praises, grinning when you whimper and tremble at his words, “Oh, sweet thing likes to be praised, huh?”

You nod your head, “Wanna be good for you, Si.”

“That’s sweet, baby,” he coos, reaching to the back of his collar so he can tug his shirt off of his head. 

Your heart hammers away in your chest when he crawls onto the bed, hands on either side of your head. He looks so big like this, on top of you, completely blocking any view you had of your ceiling and instead filling your viewline with just him. He leans down and kisses you, humming contentedly when you eagerly kiss back. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders as he uses one hand to tug your legs open so he can slot himself between them. 

You cry out when he presses himself against your core. He’s wearing nothing but his jeans but you can feel the heat radiating through the thick material. 

“Shit, look at that,” he whispers, leaning back on his heels to admire the nice little wet patch that has stained your panties, “You already this wet, baby?”

“Kissin’ you always makes me this wet, Si,” you sweetly confess and oh, you are just so precious. 

His hands slide up your stomach, moving your t-shirt up and up until it sits crumpled under your chin. Your tits are bare and move with every gasping breath that you take. 

Simon’s hands are just as rough and warm as you’d expect them to be. His thumbs come up and glide over your nipples until they harden into stiff little peaks for him. 

Then his mouth is wrapping around one, swirling his tongue around it before pulling off with a lewd pop. His hand pinches the other nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he listens to you whimper and sigh. 

“Please, Si,” you whine, “I-It hurts, please.”

“It hurts?” he hums, leaving a fleeting kiss against the nipple his tongue was torturing just a moment ago, “Where? Hm?”

His hand travels down your body, cupping your cunt through your panties. You gasp, arching your hips just a bit to grind against his palm. He lets you, before he meanly pins your hips down with his other hand. 

“Where, love?” he smooths the pad of his thumb over the seam of your cunt through your panties. The fabric is saturated with your slick, letting him see every part of you through shape alone. His thumb finds your clit, the little bud poking out through the fabric from how hard and swollen it's become, “Here? ‘S it your pretty clit that hurts, love?”

You nod, eyes rolling back in your head when he presses his thumb against the bud, trapping it under his finger so he can roll mean little circles over it. You’d be mindlessly rutting your hips by now if he didn’t have his other arm slung over your hips to keep you pinned nice and still like he wants. 

It already feels so different than when you touched yourself. Maybe because it’s him or maybe because he’s so experienced. 

That thought makes you equal parts jealous and equal parts turned on. He’d slept with plenty of people but now he was using that expertise to make you feel good. 

“Can you take them off, please?” you whine, pitchy and sweet from arousal. 

“Asked so sweetly for me,” he coos, hitching his thumbs into the band of your panties before giving them a firm tug. 

You quickly lift your hips, letting him tug them down and off of your feet. You expect him to toss them away but instead he holds them up, thumbing over the slickness in the crotch. You watch him with wide eyes as he analyzes it. Your  breath hitches when he suddenly brings them towards his face and licks a wide stripe of the fabric, moaning when he gets a good laste of your syrupy sweet slick.

“Simon!” you gasp – admonish, leaning up to snatch them out of his grasp. 

His eyes open, he hadn’t even realized he’d closed them, to look at you. He licks his lips like a dog licking its chops when it tastes something real delicious. 

He doesn’t even comment on what he just did or the pure embarrassment that is written all over your face. Instead, he grips underneath your knees and yanks you down the bed towards him so your hips are situated in his lap. 

“Jus’ let me touch you, love,” he whispers, “I’ll work a nice little orgasm out of you in no time, yeah?”

You nod your head because you trust him. You know he’s going to be able to give you what you need so badly. You don’t even question it – especially when you feel how good it feels when he uses his thumbs to spread your folds open for him. He groans when he sees the sticky strings of slick that display just how turned on you are. 

Pretty little hole clenching sporadically around nothing, dribbling more creamy arousal that makes his tongue feel like lead in his mouth. A pretty clit that twitches and throbs under his scrutinizing gaze. But you make no move to cover yourself and hide from his gaze. 

He finally touches the bud directly and it’s like electricity strikes through you. You lose control of your body as your back arches and your thighs violently twitch. Your cheeks burn when you hear him chuckle softly at your reaction.

“Sensitive,” he huffs, a crooked little grin on his face as he brushes his thumb over your clit again, garnering the same reaction as before from you, “Fuck, can’t believe you’re this sensitive and can’t make yourself cum.”

“‘S cause it’s you, Si,” you sweetly confess.

And it’s true. Having him touch you like this directly – feeling his callused skin over the most sensitive little part of you is euphoric. It doesn’t feel anything like when you touch yourself at all. It feels magnified, you feel like a live wire and everything feels like too much. But you don’t do anything to impede him because you trust him more than anything – especially like this, with your body. 

He replaced his thumb with his middle finger, prodding at your entrance. You almost think he’s going to press inside you but he doesn’t – instead, he gathers your slick up on his finger and drags it up to your clit. He softly circles the bud, cock kicking against his thigh when you sigh and croon so sweetly for him. 

Your cunt makes sticky noises as he continues doing this, gathering your arousal and lathering your precious bud up with it so he can so softly play with it. His touches aren’t enough to actually work you to the edge, it’s much too slow and soft but it feels good. He waits for you to relax against the bed, lashes fluttering as you whimper and twitch on the bed for him.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss against your trembling thigh, “Relax f’me. Want you nice and soft for me so I can get my fingers in this tight little cunt.”

You gasp at that, partly in excitement and also in apprehension. You’ve never actually put anything inside yourself before – except once, you put your finger in and it burned so you never tried it again. 

“D-Dont…” you find yourself muttering, making him freeze. He thinks you’ve changed your mind, anxiety getting the better of you and he’s fully prepared to propel himself away from you at a moment's notice, “Be gentle, okay?”

His gaze softens when he looks at you, “Won’t hurt you, love. I promise.”

You remain relaxed for him when he carefully prods you with his middle finger. He keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, not rubbing it or anything, just keeping a nice pressure that keeps you sagged against the pillows. 

It doesn’t feel anything like when you tried that one time with yourself. Everything is so much wetter and more pliant. It’s like your walls just suck the digit in, even though it’s so much bigger than your own finger. 

You sigh softly when you finally have something to clench around. Simon gives you a sweet kiss to the spot right underneath your belly button in silent praise. He keeps his lidded, brown eyes on your face, watching every little expression you make with rapt attention. 

He slowly and carefully fucks his middle finger into you, feeling the way you slowly relax around him, soaking his skin with your arousal. He smooths his free hand up the length of your body, abandoning your clit to wrap his palm around your breast. You place your own hand over his, encouraging him to squeeze harder. 

“How’s that feel, love?” he asks, still sliding his finger in and out of you.

“Okay…” you reply, keeping your hand over his on your chest, “But it…um…”

“What?” he urges, “Tell me what you feel.”

“I-It feels nice but…” you trail off and he hums, nodding his head.

“Doesn’t feel good?” he finishes for you. You nod your head and he laughs softly, “I know, baby. Jus’ tryin’ to get you used to the feeling and then I’ll make it feel real good, alright?”

“Okay,” you whisper but he can tell you’re not too convinced that it’s going to feel much better.

You’re worried that the same thing is going to happen – it’ll feel really good and then you’re never going to be able to climb over that wall. You hate to imagine disappointing him, failing to get off. You’d hate for him to put all this work in and you just can’t cum in the end. 

“Hey,” he coos, “Get out of your head, pretty. Don’t worry about a thing, alright?”

You take a deep breath and slowly let it out, allowing yourself to relax against the bed again. Simon waits for you to be nice and pliant around his finger before he starts to fit his ring finger alongside it. He catches sight of the furrow in your brow when he stretches you around two of his fingers. It burns but when Simon brings his thumb back to your clit, tapping against the bud, it vanishes. Your thighs twitch and you whimper, walls clenching in time with the little taps until the burning vanishes completely.

“There we are,” he praises, “Knew you could do it, sweetheart.”

“A-Are you gonna add another?” you find yourself asking.

“Later,” he responds, scissoring the two fingers he has snug inside your cunt, “‘M a big man, love. Gonna need you nice and stretched for me.”

You whimper at that, walls clenching around his fingers as he slowly begins to fuck them in and out of you. Your cheeks burn when you hear the loud, squishing noises your hole makes every time he stuffs them back inside. 

After a moment of just getting you used to being stretched on two of his thick digits, he suddenly crooks them up and hits something inside you that makes your back arch. It causes a tingling feeling that you’ve never experienced to heat your tummy every time he touches it.

“Simon!” you squeal, trying to clench your thighs closed but his broad shoulders keep them open, “Th-That feels-!”

“I know, baby,” he coos cockily, grinding his fingertips against that little spot that makes you so gooey and creamy around his fingers, “Feels real good right there, I know.”

Your back arches and your jaw drops. You can’t do anything but moan and cry out as he fucks against that spot. He’s urged on by your sounds of pure pleasure, eyes flicking between where he’s got your pretty cunt spread open and the euphoric expressions you can’t do anything to hide.

It’s so precious, seeing you so open and loud for him. You don’t do anything to hide your sounds of pleasure nor do you even think of faking any of them for his sake. Every little thing you’re feeling, you express, and you can’t help yourself because it’s all so new and so much.

That hot, tingling feeling in your core only intensifies with every experienced stroke of his fingers. Your eyes are rolling back every time he touches that magnificent spot inside you, abusing it with his fingers until your walls are soft and malleable for him again.

And then he brings his index finger into it. He’s even more slow and careful as he fits it in beside the other two fingers. It doesn’t burn like when he had given you his second finger but it’s a certain stretch that simply feels strange. 

He gets you stuffed open on his three fingers, up to the third knuckle. You’re spread so wide and squeeze his fingers so tight that it makes him moan when he thinks about what it will feel like around his cock. 

If you’re this tight around just his fingers then you’re going to feel positively euphoric around him. 

“Simon…” you coo, reaching down to card your fingers through his hair. 

He grunts in acknowledgement, but is unwilling to part his gaze from the sight of the creamy mess you’ve begun to leave on his fingers. Your pretty clit is twitching and so swollen, glistening from your juices and he suddenly has the inescapable desire to wrap his mouth around it. 

You’re not even looking when he decides to do it. It’s like he can’t stop himself. 

All you feel is something wet and hot wrap around the little bud. You practically wail at the feeling of his tongue sliding against it. Your feet kick aimlessly, hitting his back and shoulders as you flail beneath his body. 

You sob his name, yanking harshly on his hair in a way that hurts but he’s not going to stop you. He knows it’s mean to do this, not even warning you or easing you into the feeling before he’s suckling your clit. His tongue slips in circles around it, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. His ears practically ring from how loud you’re crying out for him. 

His three fingers remain buried inside you but he’s hardly able to move them from how tight you’re squeezing them. All he can do is grind his fingers against your g-spot but it only makes your pretty body more twitchy and makes you squirm even more beneath him. He has to hold you down so you can’t get away. 

He doesn’t want your precious pussy to be ripped away from him, your juices are making his taste buds tingle – you taste so damn good. 

That familiar heat begins to grow in your core – one you’ve experienced many times before by yourself. You cry and wail for him, sobbing his name and gripping his hair. 

“S-Si, don’t stop, please, please, please–” you choke on your own cries, slamming your head into the pillows as your back arches painfully hard. 

He grunts lowly, blonde lashes fluttering as he watches your body’s pure, unfiltered reactions to this pleasure. He knows you’re getting close, can feel you clenching around him and your clit pulsing on his tongue in time with your heartbeat. 

You feel yourself reaching that wall, the one you can never overcome. But it feels different this time, the pleasure isn’t slowing. It’s not fading like it always does when you’ve got your own fingers on your bud. 

It always seems to slip out of your grasp by this point.

This is it, you think. You’re going to cum. You’re finally going to fucking cum. 

Then everything stops.

His tongue is gone from your clit and his fingers are nowhere to be found. Simon’s shoulders rise and fall as he watches your face flicker through a range of emotions before your eyes fill with tears and you look at him – utterly pitiful and hopeless.

“Wh-Why…” you finally whisper, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. 

Your cunt pulses and throbs around nothing, the heat of your orgasm quickly dissipating, leaving that horribly empty and unsatisfying feeling in its wake. 

“Sorry, baby,” he coos, genuine and soft as he leans up to kiss your face, “That was mean, huh? ‘M sorry. Jus’ want you to have your first orgasm on a cock, love.”

That doesn’t do anything to quell your disappointment but you nod anyway, wiping away some stray tears that trickle from your eyes. 

“Please,” you breathlessly whisper, “Please, Simon. Want your cock, please. I-I was so close. It felt so good,” you start babbling, eyes falling to the hard outline of his cock in his jeans, “I wanna cum so bad, Si. Y-You promised. Please, just give me your cock. Please? Please? Simon!”

Simon’s mouth goes dry as he hears your babbled begging. Fuck, you’re absolutely aching for it. All you can think about is cumming. He never thought he’d get to hear you beg for him like this, so pathetically. You should be embarrassed, begging for cock like this when you’ve only just now gotten your first taste of being stretched open. Yet here you are fuckin’ crying for it.

His cock drools pre down his thigh, he can feel how wet his boxers have become from how much he’s leaking it. He’s aching in his jeans – he can’t pretend he doesn’t want it just as badly as you do.

“Shit, alright!” he snarls, wrapping a hand around your throat to force you to look at him. You gasp at the rough treatment, “Jus’ shut up and I’ll give it to you, yeah?”

You obediently nod your head, still staring up at him with those wide, teary eyes. He tries to act like his hands aren’t fucking trembling when he yanks his belt off. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this needy – this excited to get his cock inside a pussy. 

But it’s you. You’re special. 

He loves you. This isn’t like the one night stands and hookups he’s had in the past. This is different. 

He feels like a fumbling teenager the way he clumsily yanks his belt out of the loops and shoves his jeans down his thighs along with his underwear. His cock, big and heavy, hangs under its own weight – it never slaps up against his stomach. He wasn’t just chatting shit when he said he was a big guy. 

He wrapped his hand around himself, giving it a few, firm tugs. He feels your eyes on him, watching the way he touches himself and it sends heat through him. He scoots closer to you again, pulling back his foreskin to show the fat, leaky head that he meanly taps against your clit. 

You gasp a cute little ‘ah!’ when he does that brings a smile to his face. He can’t say he’s the best lay for a virgin because he’s so big and he’s a brute – it’s in his nature. But he’s trying his best for you. 

“Alright, baby,” he coos, leaning on one forearm above your head, draping his big body over yours. He easily manhandles you into position, caging your knees against your chest and wrapping himself around you, “Just relax for me, hm? Can you do that f’me?”

You nod your head and shakily put your hands on his shoulders, cupping his jaw to bring him down to kiss you. He sighs into your lips, using his free hang to grip the base of his cock, prodding against your hole. You’re so slippery that it slides out of you and slips up your clit. You whimper at the feeling, thighs twitching at the stimulation. 

When he finally starts to press inside, your nails bite into his shoulders. It stings – it hurts. He’s so big, making your poor little cunt burn the deeper he presses himself. The head pops in and your hips jump at the feeling, his cock slipping back out. 

He huffs, dropping his forehead against your shoulder, “Fuck, sit still.”

“S-Sorry!” you whimper, “I’m sorry!”

“Shh,” he sighs, kissing your cheek, “‘S okay, baby. Hurts, huh?”

“A little,” you whimper, trying to downplay it so he won’t stop.

He hums and presses a kiss against the corner of your mouth. He knows that working an orgasm out of you before making you take his cock would be the nice thing to do but he’s selfish. He wants to feel your orgasm around his cock – where you deserve to have it. 

It’s your very first orgasm after all. It needs to be good and he knows he can make it real good once he can get you speared on his cock. 

So he grips himself again, sitting up for just a moment to lewdly spit on your pussy. It hits your clit and trickles down where he catches it with the head of his cock. He leans over your body and starts to push in again. This time he tucks his arms under your shoulders and pins you impossibly against him, leaving you with nowhere to run when he starts to press into you. 

You whimper, feet kicking against his back when he pushes deeper than before – past the head. He knows it hurts, you’re stretched beyond your limit and he waits with bated breath for you to say the word and tell him to stop. 

But you don’t. 

You just grapple your arms around his waist and dig your nails in. His skin is sweaty by now and it makes getting any purchase on him difficult. You let out a watery little whimper that has him freezing. You’re speared on half his cock when he finally looks at you. 

Your eyes are teary and they slowly drip down your cheeks.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks, brushing some away with his thumb.

You immediately shake your head, no hesitation, “No! K-Keep goin’, Si.”

“Don’t cry, pretty,” he shushes, keeping his grip under your shoulders and his hips pinned firmly against yours so you can’t squirm when he starts pressing in again. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp, eyes fluttering from the ache that settles where he’s stretching you wide, “‘S okay, just take a deep breath. ‘M almost in, love, you’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me. Takin’ all of my cock so deep, just like you deserve. Hear me? This cock s’all yours now, yeah? Can have it whenever you need it.”

Your walls spasm around his cock as he talks, making him groan low in his chest. He’s almost there, can feel his balls starting to tap against you the deeper he gets until finally, his hips meet yours and you wail. 

He prods painfully against your cervix and he knows that it’s uncomfortable but he’s not willing to pull back just yet. He needs you to get used to being stretched and stuffed full of every inch of him. He takes care to do slow, gentle grinds, his pelvis catching your clit that eventually makes you relax. 

“That’s it,” he praises, “Just relax and let me make you feel good.”

He finally eases off of you, balancing his weight on his forearms on either side of your head, hovering over you. He slowly pulls his hips back, watching you slump against the bed when he finally stops pressing on your cervix. 

He finally starts fucking you, sliding his cock out just a bit before rolling his hips forward again. It's slow and soft, just testing the waters and getting you used to this new stimulation. 

It feels entirely different from his fingers. His cock is bigger, fills you so much more, touches deeper. 

His cock reaches spots deep inside you that his fingers didn’t even reach. But he’s permanently pressing against that spot his fingers were torturing. It feels so fucking good. 

Simon can see the way your eyes roll back as he carefully fucks you. Your first cock and you’re taking it so damn well. It makes him want to see how much more you can take but he knows he needs to ease you into it, he doesn't want to overwhelm you.

“Si…” you sigh softly, blinking as you struggle not to float off and become drunk with pleasure. 

“I know, pretty,” he coos, kissing your cheek before leaning back on his heels, fastening the thrusts of his hips. 

You can’t keep quiet now, mouth falling open to let out the most precious sounds of pure pleasure. You’re staring at him with wide eyes, like he’s hung the moon and stars in the sky just for you. His cock fucking throbs at the look of wonder that crosses your face. He knows you’re getting close, can feel how tight you’re clamping around him and he can see how much you’re creaming around him – making a mess at the base of his cock and in the thatch of curls there. 

“You gonna cum?” he coos, grinning when you shake your head, “Of course you are. I can fuckin’ feel it, baby. Know you got one for me, go ahead. Cum on my cock real nice, c’mon.”

“C-Can’t,” you whimper. It’s too much. You’re so wet. It’s fucking messy but you feel yourself at that damn wall, hanging on a thread and waiting for euphoria to come but it doesn’t, “Please! Simon! Please, I-I can’t! Please, please, please…”

“Fuck,” his hisses when he hears you begging to cum on his cock, “Come on then, baby. You can do it. Just let it go, let me fuck it outta you.”

You toss your head back into the pillows as a sob is ripped from your chest. As if he can sense how much you’re struggling, he brings his thumb down to press against your clit. Your eyes fucking roll, only the whites of them visible. You clench down around him like a vice and it only takes a couple little swipes of his thumb for you to tumble over the edge. 

It feels unlike anything you could have ever imagined. Pleasure soars through you and your hearing cuts out. It feels like you lose control of your body, unable to do anything but thrash and twitch as he fucks you through it. You’re not sure if you would prefer him to stop or keep going because it’s all so fucking much that it hurts. 

You’re gushing around him, drenching his cock in sticky, creamy cum that drips in thick strings down his balls. Holy fuck.

It feels like hours that you’re speared on his cock, cumming and cumming before it finally leaves you and you collapse against the bed. You’re still twitching, entire body shivering until he finally slows his thrusts to soft little rolls of his hips. He takes his thumb off of your clit and you’re thankful because it was starting to become unpleasant. 

You swallow despite how dry your mouth is, eyes finally focusing on him. His brows are furrowed and his bottom lip is tucked into his mouth. Pretty, brown eyes are locked on you and you suddenly feel shy. 

Had he been watching you the whole time? You hoped you didn’t make any ugly faces or embarrassing noises. 

“Fuck,” he coos, seemingly sensing your shame, “That was a fuckin’ orgasm, love.”

You’re panting, you realize. And you’re tired. You’ve never felt more relaxed in your life. 

All you can think is that you’ve been missing out on that your whole life? Now you’re not sure you’ll be able to even live without it ever again. 

Simon’s hands cup under your knees and pin them to your chest. You gasp as he bends you as he sees fit. You’re limp, so completely drunk on the pleasure you just experienced that you simply let him. 

But you realize he’s even deeper like this – and it doesn’t hurt like it did before. He’s pressing against your back wall and it actually feels good. You feel so sensitive inside, like you can feel every twitch of his cock. 

He’s still languidly dragging his cock in and out of you. It’s a fucking mess between your legs, you’ve cum so fucking much that it’s everywhere. He’s never been covered like this before and it’s fucking hot. 

Your cum sticks between the two of you in little strings that break and reform every time his hips meet and leave yours. Your little clit is puffy and swollen from your orgasm and he wants to press his thumb against it again but he knows the poor little thing is much too sensitive still. 

Your legs flop uselessly as he fucks you, eases you past overstimulation until you’re sweetly cooing for him again. He takes that chance to fuck you properly again, intent on finding his own orgasm deep in your cunt. 

His heavy balls slap against your ass. He wants to cum. He plans to make himself cum like this, just using your pretty pussy. But then he sees your eyes widen again and your lips part almost curiously and his eyes narrow.

“You feel it again, huh, sweetheart?” he goads, shifting his weight on his knees so his hips are pressed even closer to yours. 

“C-Can’t,” you whisper, the same thing you had before. But it’s different now, “W-Won’t be able to, Si.”

“S that a challenge, love?” he teases, a crooked little smile on his face. You sleepily shake your head, “Hmm, I think I can fuck another one out of you. One orgasm won’t be enough, two is a good number for now. Until I train this little cunt to cum for me all night long.”

You whimper, reaching out the claw at his forearms where he pins your knees to your chest. You’re held so uselessly open, cunt completely vulnerable to his fat cock stuffing you full. His pelvis hits your clit in a way that makes the little bud tingle and your cunt clenches pathetically around him with every thrust he gives you. 

Sweet little ‘ah, ah, ah’s’ are punched from your lungs every time he sinks completely inside. He’s gripping your knees harshly, squeezing where he has a grip as his own orgasm starts to creep up on him but he’s going to give you another orgasm. He has to make you cum again, to see you lost in pleasure like that once more. He knows that will push him over the edge, give him what he needs. He wants to cum with you, fill you up while you’re in the throes of pure pleasure that only he has ever given you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps, fighting the feeling of his own eyes rolling back in favor of watching you. 

He loves the way you wear everything you feel on your face. From the looks of wonder when it feels really good to the little rolls of your eyes when he makes it hurt just a bit. It’s so cute. 

Makes him want to play around with that little part of you – be a little mean to you. 

“Cum,” he growls, fighting his own orgasm down, “Fuckin’ cum right now.”

“I can’t!” you wail, kicking against his hold on your knees, pressing down to spread you open even further. 

His hips slam against yours, loud slaps and slick noises of your gooey cunt filling his ears, “You can. You will. Cum, sweetheart. You better fuckin’ cum.”

But you shake your head. It’s so close, you can feel it. It’s creeping up on you and you want it so bad. You want to feel that pleasure again. But you’re not even sure you’re going to be able to cum again, it feels so much more sensitive than before. It’s too much. 

Simon bares his teeth, letting go of one of your legs to drift between your thighs. Your eyes widen, you think he’s going to rub it again – it’s so sensitive that you’re not sure you’ll be able to take it. 

But instead, he does something else.

You hear it before you feel it, a soft little slap followed by the feeling of being electrocuted. Simon watches you with lidded eyes to see how you react. Just like he expected, you wail and your body gives a mean twitch at the impact. 

So he does it again. 

And again. 

And again.

Not too hard, just enough for it to hurt a little bit. A sting against a terribly sensitive little bud. It’s mean – he’s mean. But he can’t fucking help it. 

He needs you to cum for him again.

“Cum,” he snarls, giving your clit another slap.

As if on command, it sends you over the edge. Your legs kick out and he has to abandon your clit to hold you down, pinning you harshly to the bed as he uses all his weight to fuck down into your spasming little cunt. You’re cumming so hard around him that you stop breathing. He hears the hitch of breath and doesn’t hear the exhale. All you do is lay there, cry for him and cum.

He finds his end just as violently, tossing his head back to moan into the room as cum erupts from his cock. His thrusts grow sloppy as he milks the orgasm out of himself, voice breaking as he whimpers from how fucking good it feels. 

Like no orgasm he’s ever experienced. It’s like he can’t stop cumming, filling you up so much that it oozes out from around his cock. 

You’re trembling underneath him when he finally comes down, tearfully gazing up at him with your mouth agape, struggling to catch your breath.

“N-No more,” you pathetically whimper, legs twitching from the aftershocks, “C-Can’t take anymore, Si.”

“Shh,” he shushes, letting your legs go so you can relax comfortably as he pulls his cock from your pussy.

It’s twitching and clenching sporadically, still coming down from your orgasm. It makes his cum drip out of your cunt, a mess that spreads to the already messy sheets. Your cum and his mix together to make a sticky, gooey mess that makes his mouth water. He wants to eat it up, stuff his tongue into your tight little hole and swallow it all down. 

But he can’t. Maybe next time, he vows.

His cock gives a valiant kick at the thought of getting to do this again. He sits on his heels, gazing at his messy cock as if softens. He feels dazed, almost drunk. 

Then he hears the softest little sniffle from you and his eyes snap up to your face to find your crumpled expression and tears falling down your face. You cover your face with your hands and earnestly begin to cry.

“Hey, it’s alright, love,” he coos, laying beside you to tuck you into his chest.

“I-I don’t know why I’m crying,” you sob, wrapping your arms around his waist as you cry into him. 

“It happens,” he assures, “It was a lot and you’re just a little overwhelmed s’all. Just let it out, baby.”

And you do, weakly sobbing into his chest until it feels like you can’t cry anymore. He holds you through it all, rubbing your back and cooing sweet nothings in your ear until you grow silent. 

“Alright, love?” he asks.

“S-Sorry, Si,” you sniffle, finally pulling out of the spot in his arms you were hiding in, “I-I don’t want you to think I didn’t want it or that it was bad. I just…”

He gives you a soft smile, leaning forward to kiss you. It’s short and sweet, “I don’t think that. Like I said, it happens. Sometimes people just cry after sex, nothin’ to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” you sniffle, wiping your cheeks dry when the tears finally stop.

“Positive,” he sits up, “Let’s get cleaned up, alright? We need to change the damn sheets, fuckin’ hell.”

You giggle as you look down at the sheets where a very visible dark spot is sitting where you once laid. You don’t even have time to be embarrassed before he’s swooping you off of the bed and escorting you to the bathroom.

It’s too small for both of you to fit but you make it work. He wipes you down with a warm cloth before hopping into the shower to rinse and clean himself before he gets out and lets you do the same. While you do that, he changes the bedding completely and replaces it with new sheets and blankets for the two of you to sleep in together. 

When you finally stumble into the bedroom, he wraps his arms around you and urges you onto the bed. You giggle as you flop onto the bed before he crawls in after you and covers the both of you up, wrapping himself around you until you’re tucked securely against him. 

“I take it you liked it?” he finally whispers.

You shyly nod, “I-It was um…fun.”

“Felt real good, huh?” he teases, grinning wolfishly when you whimper.

“Y-Yeah,” you whisper, “It felt really good. I already want to do it again.”

Simon groans, hugging you tightly before shaking his head, “You’re gonna be insatiable. Gonna give my cock a run for its money.”

You giggle, affectionately petting his hair before he looks at you with the softest expression you’ve ever seen. It’s like his eyes are sparkling in the low light of the bedroom. He leans forward and ever so softly kisses your forehead, then your nose, before he reaches your lips. He pecks them softly, pulling back for just a second before he kisses you again. 

“I love you,” he whispers, so soft that you almost miss it. 

And your heart begins to race. You almost struggle to find the words to reciprocate. But when you do, he smiles and tucks you against him again, big arms wrapped around you like a bear hug.

It’s almost surreal. You can’t believe you’re here after everything – with him. 

Like you’ve dreamed your whole life, he loves you just like you love him. 

PART ONE.

do not modify, translate, or repost

[steveseddie]

outside looking in

for @steddie-week day one “secret relationship”

rated: t | cw: none | wc: 4,8k | tags: max’s pov, post vol. 4, 3+1 things, secret relationship, friendship, max & steve, max & eddie

click here to read on ao3

1.

Max is sitting on the front steps of her house, adjusting the wheels of her skateboard when the screen door of the Munson’s trailer swings open.

The noise it makes as it slams against the side of the trailer makes her jump. It’s only been a few weeks since Spring Break and she’s still on high alert after everything that happened.

Looking up from her skateboard, she expects to see Eddie or his uncle. She’s used to it- catching them on their way in or out of the trailer or sitting on the old ratty couch that they keep on the front porch. She’s used to waving at them and them waving back. Sometimes, if it’s Eddie, she’ll stick her middle finger out just to make him crow with laughter so loud she can hear it from across the gravel path. 

What Max doesn’t expect is to see someone else stumbling out of the Munson’s trailer. 

She certainly doesn’t expect to see Steve. 

It can’t be Steve, Max thinks. She remembers one of the doctors at the hospital telling her that her eyesight suffered some damage from being trapped in Vecna’s mind prison for too long and now she thinks that he must’ve been right. Maybe she does need glasses. 

But even if she squints her eyes, she still sees Steve. More importantly, she sees what Steve is wearing, and even from a distance despite whatever eyesight problems she might have, she can see that the clothes Steve is wearing aren’t his. Well, the jeans probably are, but the shirt is black and the logo plastered on the front is a big skull surrounded by flames, and while she can’t make out the words that are written in big bold letters, she’s willing to bet it’s the name of one of Eddie’s metal bands. Which would make that Eddie’s shirt.  

And it looks wrinkled, slept in.

Huh.

Jogging down the front steps, Steve makes his way to his BMW, parked out front and sticking out like a shiny sore thumb. Max is surprised she didn’t notice it sooner. 

She watches as he runs a hand through his hair, his messy hair- another sign pointing to the fact that Steve spent the night in Eddie’s trailer.

And the thing is Max didn’t even know they were friends. 

She’s seen them talk- or more like bicker when the party hangs out, but she had no idea that they sometimes hang out just the two or that they spend the night at each other’s places, or that they share clothes. 

She thinks she’s not supposed to know, based on the way Steve stops in his tracks with his hand frozen mid-air as he reaches for the car door handle when he spots Max across the road. 

His eyes go wide and his jaw drops a little, the dopey smile that was plastered on his face disappearing as he stands there, staring at her for several seconds. 

Max raises her hand in an awkward wave, which seems to snap him out of his reverie. He offers a small finger wiggle in return. 

Max doesn’t know how clearly he can see her. Just like her, Steve was advised by one of the doctors to wear glasses- his own eyesight showing signs of damage after the multiple concussions that he’s suffered over the years. And just like her, Steve didn’t listen.

Still, she raises an eyebrow at him while staring pointedly at the shirt he’s wearing.

And despite his own shitty eyesight, Steve must be able to see her face clearly enough because he ducks his head, realizes what Max is staring at, and his eyes widen even more. Then, without looking at her again, he hurriedly slides into the driver’s seat and starts the car, backing it up and driving it away.

Once the car disappears, Max jumps to her feet, and tucking her skateboard under her arm, she walks over to Eddie’s trailer. 

Her knuckles rap on the door and she hears movement behind it- the couch squeaking, a loud thud, and a heartfelt “son of a bitch!” coming from Eddie as he, most likely, trips over something.

Eddie starts talking before he opens the door enough to see Max, rubbing at his eyes. “Did you forget something, Stevie-” He pauses when he finally sees Max, whose eyebrows are knit together in a frown. Stevie? She’s only ever heard Eddie call Steve by his last name or by some mocking title before. “Oh. Hey Red, I thought- I thought you were someone else,” he tacks on with an awkward laugh, a hand hanging from his neck. 

Max studies him for a moment. He’s in boxers and a shirt that could very well be the same one that Steve was wearing, equally slept in. They both must’ve woken up recently- Eddie’s hair is even more of a mess than Steve’s was. 

“Who? Steve?” She asks, and Eddie makes a noncommittal sound. “Nah, he left already.” 

Eddie bites his lip. “You- you saw him?” 

“I was fixing my skateboard outside when he came out.” She narrows her eyes at him. “Wearing your shirt.”

“Um,” Eddie says dumbly, scratching the back of his neck. “He, uh, he spilled something on his shirt last night. If you ask me, it was an act of divine intervention, no one should own that many polo shirts.” He chuckles, but it sounds a little strained. 

“So he was here last night?” Max asks and Eddie grimaces, mentally face-palming himself.

“Um, yeah.” 

“Since when do you guys hang out?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.

Eddie shrugs. “Since we found ourselves as the only two adults in a group of children, I guess.” 

Max rolls her eyes. “We’re hardly children.”

“Sorry, teenagers,” he says with a smirk. “But you know, same shit. Sometimes it’s nice to hang out with someone your age who also understands, you know- everything that happened.”

“I guess,” Max concedes. Maybe in a universe without the Upside Down, Eddie and Steve never would’ve become friends, but it makes sense that they did. After everything they went through. 

Eddie reaches over and flicks Max’s forehead, sniggering when Max bats his hand away with a huff. “So, milady, is there a reason you visited me on this fine morning?” 

There isn’t. Truth is, she was curious and wanted to ask about Steve and she did that already, so she might as well just leave. But she also has nothing to do all day and she was hoping to practice with her skateboard anyway-

“Can you give me a ride to the skate park?” She asks and when Eddie glances down at himself and raises an eyebrow, Max scrunches up her nose and adds, “After you take a shower or something?”

Eddie snorts. “Yeah, sure. Come in, you can wait here while I get ready.” He steps to the side and sweeps his arm with a flourish.

“Nerd,” Max mutters but steps in any way, leaving her skateboard on the porch. 

“You can watch something or if you want to grab some breakfast, we have Cocoa Puffs and Honeycomb.” He scrunches up his nose. “But the milk might’ve gone bad, so. Careful with that.” 

Max snorts. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass,” She says. She had breakfast at home anyway. 

“Suit yourself,” Eddie says, throwing some finger guns her way. “Be right back.” And then he disappears down the hallway.

Max has been inside the trailer a few times, but she’s never been left alone so naturally she decides to snoop around a little while she waits. There’s not a lot that she finds interesting- worn furniture, old newspapers, Eddie’s uncle’s mug collection and-

Steve’s polo shirt that somehow ended up on top of the TV like it was tossed haphazardly by someone. 

She picks it up and inspects it.

There’s not a single stain on it.  

And well, Eddie’s excuse sounded flimsy at best, but this is confirmation that it was actually a lie. It makes Max wonder why Eddie would lie about it. Friends can share clothes and if Steve spent the night it would make sense that he would borrow one of Eddie’s shirts-

But why would his shirt end up on top of the TV if that was the case? 

Before Max can answer her own question, she hears footsteps approaching. Putting the shirt back where it was for Eddie to find later, she makes herself seem busy by staring at the mugs lining up the walls just as Eddie appears. 

“Ready to go?” He asks, oblivious to Max finding the shirt and discovering he was lying about the stain. When she nods, Eddie gestures at the door with another flourish and a, “Ladies first.” 

Sending one last glance at Steve’s shirt, Max steps outside, still wondering what it could mean. 

2. 

Max doesn’t expect it to happen again, but just one week later she sees Steve leaving Eddie’s trailer again.

This time she doesn’t need to squint to notice there’s something off with Steve’s clothes. She’s on her way to Eddie’s trailer when Steve walks out and jogs down the steps, not paying attention to where he’s going, almost knocking Max over. 

“Dude!” She says, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Christ! Where did you come from?” He hisses, stumbling a few steps back, clutching at his chest. 

It makes Max’s eyes dart down to it and she raises an eyebrow. “Why is your shirt inside out?” 

Steve’s eyes nearly bulge out his face as he looks down and notices that his baby blue polo shirt is, in fact, inside out. 

“Uh.” 

Max can see him trying to come up with an explanation, she can almost hear the gears turning in his head, but he seems to be coming up blank. She narrows her eyes further. 

“There was- uh, there was a spider! It ended up caught under my shirt and I had to take it off to- to get it off me and I must’ve put it on the wrong way,” he stammers out with a strained laugh.

“A spider?” Max asks slowly, her eyebrow arched. 

“Uh-huh.” 

Max doesn’t buy it. Just like she didn’t buy Eddie’s excuse about Steve’s shirt having a stain. But since she doesn’t know the real reason why Steve was wearing Eddie’s shirt or why his own is inside out after leaving Eddie’s trailer, she doesn’t confront him about it, just filing the information for later. 

“Okay.” 

Steve awkwardly shuffles from one foot to the other for a second, eyeing his car like he wants to duck inside it and drive away from the trailer park and Max as fast as he can.

At that moment, the trailer door opens and they both whirl around to see Eddie lighting the cigarette dangling from his lips as he walks out. He freezes when he sees them, his eyes darting between the two.

“Oh, you’re still here,” he mumbles through the cigarette. “And so is Max, hey Red.” 

Max gives him a wave.

“What are you two talking about?” He asks, taking a drag from the cigarette.

“I was telling Steve that his shirt is inside out,” Max says, her lips twitching into a smirk. 

Eddie’s eyes widen the same way Steve’s did as he clocks in the inside-out shirt. “Right, that’s- that’s because, um.”

Max waits for him to come up with an excuse of his own, wondering if he’ll come up with the same one that Steve did. But before he can say anything else, Steve intervenes. “There was a spider, right, Eds?” 

Eds? Steve calls him Eds now?

Eddie claps his hands together and points a finger at Steve. “A spider! Right! Nasty little crawler!” 

Max rolls her eyes, wondering if they think she’s stupid. Idiots.

“Whatever.” She turns to Eddie. “My mom made lasagna and she told me to invite you over for lunch,” she says. That was the reason she came over in the first place.

Eddie grins around his cigarette. “Hell yeah, your mom’s lasagna is the shit.” 

Max turns to Steve. “You can come too if you want. She made plenty.” 

The corners of his mouth twitch up for a second before he frowns. “Crap, I’d love to but I have a shift in,” he pauses and glances down at his watch, “twenty minutes. Sorry.”

“Another time.”

“Definitely,” Steve says, ruffling Max’s hair and ducking out of the way before Max can punch his arm. “But for now, I gotta go!” He starts jogging towards his car.

“Don’t forget to fix your shirt!” Max calls and Steve makes a face as he opens the door. 

“And beware of spiders!” Eddie yells right before he climbs inside. Max still catches a glimpse of the fond smile teasing at Steve’s lips. 

When the car disappears, she turns to Eddie again. “You coming or what?”

“Well, when you ask so nicely,” Eddie says with a grin, walking down the steps. 

As soon as he’s within reach, Max snatches the cigarette from his lips and drops it on the ground, snuffing it out with her foot. 

“Hey!” 

“Smoking kills, you know?” She says, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“My dear Red,” Eddie says, throwing an arm over her shoulders as he steers them towards her house. “I defied death once, and I shall do it again!” He says in a silly voice. 

Max bites her lip around a smile. “Yeah, yeah, you can defy it where I don’t have to smell it. Come on, Mom’s waiting.” 

He withdraws his arm and jogs a few steps forward, crouching down in front of Max. “Hop on, milady.” 

Max rolls her eyes, but she grabs Eddie’s shoulders for balance and jumps on his back. Eddie laughs, hoists Max up by her legs, and yells, “Onwards!” before he starts running towards her house. 

Max can’t help but laugh along with him. 

3. 

The next time Max sees Steve outside Eddie’s trailer he’s not leaving but arriving instead. 

She’s sitting down on the porch with her Walkman, waiting for her mother to pick her up. She doesn’t just listen to Kate Bush these days, but she still keeps one of her tapes with her at all times. Right now, she’s listening to a mixtape Lucas made for her. 

It comes to an end just as Steve’s car rolls into the trailer park, stopping in front of Eddie’s trailer. 

As she rewinds the tape, she expects Steve to step out of the car and head inside, but he doesn’t. Eddie doesn’t come out of the trailer either. Steve just sits in his car with his hands on the steering wheel for seemingly no reason.

After ten minutes, he still hasn’t come out and since Max has nothing better to do until her mother gets here, she decides to walk over there to find out what’s going on with Steve. 

She opens the passenger door and slides into the seat without announcing herself, making Steve jump and hit his head with the roof of the car.

“Jesus Christ! Ouch! Fuck!” He glances at Max with wide crazy eyes. “Goddammit, Max, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” 

Max ignores the question in favor of asking one herself. “You’ve been sitting here for ten minutes, dude, what gives?” 

The hand that Steve is rubbing his head with stops abruptly. “Um.” 

“Well?” Max gives him an exasperated look. Her mom is going to be home any second and she would like to get an answer before she does.

Steve bites his lip, watching Max closely. “Can- Can I ask you something?” 

He seems nervous and that’s the only reason why Max lets him ignore her question. “Okay?” 

“You and Lucas-” he starts and Max raises an eyebrow. She wasn’t expecting Steve to ask about them. “You’re together again, right?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Did he- when he asked you to-” He waves his hand in a vague gesture. “You know- be his girlfriend, how did he- what did he do?” 

She bites down on the why? that’s at the tip of her tongue. “He gave me this. A mixtape,” she says, holding her Walkman for Steve to see. “And he- he just asked me. He said that after Vecna he didn’t want to waste any more time. He wanted to be with me.” 

Steve smiles softly. “Smart kid.” 

“It wasn’t terribly romantic but-” Max trails off with a shrug. She hadn’t cared about that. Vecna made her realize she wanted to be with Lucas too, and that’s all that mattered. 

“He probably knew you wouldn’t want a big romantic gesture,” Steve says and Max nods.

She narrows her eyes at him- at the way Steve bites his lip while glancing at Eddie’s trailer, thinking.

That’s when it clicks. The shared clothes, the inside-out shirt, Steve asking about her and Lucas, how nervous he is to go inside-

“Is that something Eddie would want? A big romantic gesture?” She asks and Steve snaps his head in her direction so fast she thinks she hears his neck crack. 

“What- what do you- how do you-” 

Max scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Dude, I saw you leaving Eddie’s trailer wearing his clothes and then with your shirt on inside out. And don’t give me that bullshit about the spider! You were obviously- you know.” She gestures vaguely but Steve gets it. His cheeks go pink which is enough confirmation. “And now you’re asking me about Lucas and how he asked me to be his girlfriend like- like you’re thinking about doing that so- is that it? Are you gonna ask Eddie?” 

Steve sighs heavily, slumping back against his seat. “Yeah, that’s- yeah. I want to ask him,” he admits, gripping the steering wheel. He glances at Max out of the corner of his eye. “Is that- is that okay?” 

Max snorts. “You know you don’t need my permission, right? But if you’re asking if I think you and Eddie being together is okay? Yeah, of course it is.” 

Steve relaxes slightly. “Thanks. I- we- this thing between us is new. We haven’t told anyone. Not that we had to tell you,” he chuckles. “Of course, you figured it out, but we haven’t, you know, made it official, but I want to. I just don’t know how.” 

“I thought you were supposed to be some kind of ladies’ man?” 

Steve lets out an undignified squawk. “I- that’s not- I mean I was, but my game kind of went downhill after high school and Eddie- he makes me nervous.”

“Is that why you’ve been freaking out here for ten minutes?”

A high-pitched laughter tumbles out of Steve’s lips. “Yeah, that’s- yeah.” 

Max rolls her eyes. “Steve, just tell Eddie how you feel! How you really feel.”

“Easier said than done, Mayfield.” 

She turns sideways in her seat to face him. “Look, Eddie likes you, that’s obvious, and you like him so just tell him that. Tell him that you want to be together. Officially.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath.

“And stop doing that!” Max chatises, slapping his hand away. “You don’t want to look like a bird built a nest in your head when you ask Eddie to be your boyfriend.”

He drops his hand to his lap. “No, I don’t,” He concedes. Then he takes a deep breath. “Yeah, okay, I’m doing this.”

Max waits for him to move and get out of the car, but he just sits there. “Dude, you’re still in the car-”

Steve throws his arms up. “I know! I know, I’m going!” 

And then finally, he gets out of the car. Max follows his lead, leaning her crossed arms on the roof to narrow her eyes at Steve. 

“Now you gotta walk over there-”

Steve groans. “Yeah, I know that. You,” he points at her with one finger while the other one settles on his hip, “you gotta scram. I’m not doing this in front of you.”

Max rolls her eyes. “Whatever. My mom will be here soon anyway.”

She starts walking back to her house but before she gets too far, Steve calls her name. She turns around with a raised eyebrow. 

Steve is smiling softly at her. “Thanks.”

Max smiles back. “Good luck!”

Her mom’s car appears then and she waves at Steve before running towards it. She gets in, and as her mom drives away, she sees Steve fix his hair one last time in the car window before finally walking towards the trailer. 

She faces forward in her seat, convinced that the next time she sees Steve leaving Eddie’s trailer, he’ll be doing it as Eddie’s boyfriend. 

+1. 

The next time he sees Steve, however, it’s not outside Eddie’s trailer, but rather inside it.

She’s sitting down at the Munson’s table, watching Eddie putter around the small kitchen as he cooks them pasta for dinner while she works on her History homework. 

Eddie has music on- loud, heavy metal music that Max rolled her eyes at when she walked in. But the truth is that she’s used to it by now and she prefers this to the silence back at her house when her mom is at work. 

Because of the loud music though they don’t hear the car that parks outside or the person that walks up the front steps. It’s only when the door flings open that both Max and Eddie jump and glance at it, both of them relaxing when Steve walks in carrying a six-pack.

“Honey, I’m home!” He announces, shrugging off his jacket. 

Max watches as Eddie’s eyes widen comically before darting between her and Steve, who still hasn’t noticed her. Steve must’ve forgotten to tell him that Max knows about them- probably too embarrassed to admit he asked a fifteen-year-old for advice on boys. 

“Uh, Stevie-” Eddie starts, but Steve, whose back is still turned towards them as he hangs his jacket on the coat rack, ignores him and keeps talking.

“It smells great in here, Eds! I’m starving. Robin ate the last of my sandwich at work and then she wouldn’t let me steal anything from the candy display. I thought we could order pizza, but thank God my boyfriend decided to surprise me with a home-cooked meal. Oh hey, Max.” He wiggles his fingers at Max, finally noticing her, and she waves back. 

Eddie’s jaw hangs open as he stares at Max. “Shit, I guess- I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” he chuckles, nervously tugging some of his hair in front of his face.

“Dude, the cat’s been out of the bag since I saw Steve leave in one of your shirts after spending the night here,” Max says with a snort. 

Eddie splutters. “What?”

She smirks. “Yeah. And that time Steve walked out with his shirt inside out? Did you really expect me to believe it was because of a spider?”

Steve’s face twists into a grimace. Eddie shrugs, hanging a hand from his neck. Yeah, they should be embarrassed about that one. 

“Also, who do you think was the one who gave Steve a pep talk before he asked you to be his boyfriend?” 

At that, Eddie’s head snaps towards Steve, whose cheeks have turned pink. “She- what?”

“Okay, it wasn’t a pep talk, come on! I was just- I was a little nervous!” 

“Aw baby,” Eddie says gleefully, leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter and resting his chin on his hands. “You were nervous?” 

Max sniggers. “He was. He sat in the car for like ten minutes.”

Steve squeaks. “Shut up!” He tells her. Then when Eddie coos, Steve points a menacing finger at him. “You shut up too!” 

Still giggling, Max watches as Eddie walks around the kitchen counter until he’s standing in front of Steve and cups both sides of his face while Steve pouts at him with his own hands resting on his hips. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I think it’s cute that you were nervous,” Eddie tells him before swooping in to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Even if you had no reason to be.”

Steve visibly melts, his hands falling from his hips like a puppet with his strings cut, his pout turning into a dopey smile.

Ew.

“If you guys start making out, I’ll leave. I swear,” Max announces, and both their heads snap in her direction, looking like they forgot she was there. 

Their cheeks turn pink, but while Steve does look a little embarrassed, Eddie looks pleased. 

“Apologies, my lady,” he says with a flourish. “Here, sweetheart, let me take this,” he tells Steve, grabbing the six-pack and walking around the counter to put it inside the fridge before going back to making dinner. Max finds the pet names very cheesy and gross too, but she doesn’t tease them about that. She has the feeling that this is the first time that they can act like a couple in front of someone from the party and she doesn’t want them to think they have to hold back- not unless it comes to kissing. 

Steve joins her on the table, twisting one of the chairs around and straddling it, resting his chin in his arms. “If I’d known you’d be here, I would’ve brought you something to drink too.” 

“That’s okay.” Max shrugs innocently. “I can have a beer.” 

From the kitchen, Eddie cackles, and Steve’s eyes turn into cartoon-like hearts as he glances at him for a second before turning back to Max and speaking in that bitchy tone of his. “Yeah, that’s a no. Nice try. Maybe in a couple of years.” 

Max rolls her eyes as hard as she can. 

“What are you working on?” Steve asks, glancing at her notebook. 

“History homework, I’m almost done.” Then she makes her voice a little louder so Eddie hears it when she says, “I would be done by now if Eddie didn’t listen to his music so loud it makes it hard to think!” 

“You know, Red, music is supposed to improve cognitive performance,” Eddie says in a snarky tone. 

“Yours isn’t music, it’s just noise.”

Steve sniggers and offers his hand for a fist bump that Max accepts. From the kitchen, Eddie sticks his tongue out at her. 

“Whatever, your homework is gonna have to wait anyway. Dinner’s ready.”

Max closes her book and her notebook and moves them both to the coffee table while Steve clears out some old mail and flips his chair forward again. Then he helps Eddie with one of the three pasta bowls and Max grabs a soda from the fridge and two beers for them, carrying it all to the table. 

Steve wasn’t lying when he said it smelled good. Max’s mouth waters the moment she sits down in front of her bowl, wasting no time before she digs in. 

They eat in silence for no more than two minutes which is how long it takes for Eddie to start telling them about his latest study session with Nancy through mouthfuls of pasta. Max scrunches her nose every time she catches a glimpse of Eddie’s half-chewed food, but the whole time, Steve watches him with a dopey smile. Halfway through his story, Steve reaches for one of Eddie’s hands, holding it over the table. Eddie stutters in the middle of complaining about Nancy not believing in breaks (“That woman is a machine! It doesn’t matter if she’s facing off against a dark wizard or an English final!”), his eyes darting to their joined hands and then to Max’s bored expression before relaxing and flipping his hand over so that their fingers intertwine.

They don’t let go for the rest of their dinner- not while the three of them bicker and tease each other or while Steve tells them about his shift at Family Video or while Max tells them about El coming to visit during summer. They don’t let go when Eddie lets Max have a sip of his beer and both he and Steve double over with laughter when she scrunches up her face and gags at the taste. 

They let go only when they move to the couch to watch a movie, but then they cuddle up to each other almost immediately. 

Max gags again, but it’s just for show. She doesn’t mind any of it- the pet names, the cuddling, the hand-holding. She’ll draw the line at seeing them kiss because gross but she’s happy to see them relax and act like this in front of her. Someday, they might tell the rest of the party, maybe even the rest of the world. 

For now, they seem happy to let her be the only one who knows. The only one who gets to see them like this. 

And Max, well, she’s happy too. 

[valkyrayn]

Ride Your King // Marius x Fem!Reader

Tags: light bondage, filthy talking, pussy eating, squirting, blowjob, cock riding, fingering, marking, scratching, praise kink, loud sex, rough fucking, huge cock, breeding kink, multiple rounds, fucking on the: floor, table, wall, bathtub, morning sex, fluff at the end--filthy self-indulgent porn

posted on ao3 if you wanna leave comments there

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“…how long are you going to keep me tied up?” He raises an eyebrow at you, a seductive smirk playing on his lips—oh, he’s absolutely loving this. You watch your fiance with a matching smirk, he’s sat on the floor with his legs spread in front of him, wrists bound behind his back by a silk scarf, his white shirt unbuttoned, damp with his sweat. He looks sinful, like a devil brought solely into your presence to seduce and pleasure you. 

And for that reason alone, he needs to be restrained. You want to be in control this time.

“Until you make me cum,” you reply, sporting a confidence that you never knew you had but that’s what being with Marius does to you. 

You hear him chuckle, his eyes dark with lust as he takes a full view of your body from top to bottom—clad in see-through lingerie, courtesy of him, with its lacy hem resting high above your knees. It’s so revealing you might as well not be wearing anything. He takes a deep breath, satisfied with your choice of clothing and looks up at you with a grin on his face. 

“With my cock or with my mouth…which one do you want first?” He asks so casually. He tilts his head slightly to the side to get a better view of you. “Your choice, my Queen.”

A small whimper escapes you, feeling your cunt throb at his words, immediately providing images in your head on how this is going to end later—with you writhing under him and begging for more… 

Marius’ eyes widen when you suddenly get on all fours on the floor, crawling towards him with a playful smirk on your lips. For someone so confident just a few seconds ago, he’s immediately flustered. “Jiejie…”

You can see his cock twitch behind his pants without you even touching him yet. The sight of him looking so desperate and needy for you makes you wet; feeling yourself begin to soak through the material of the lingerie that he’s bought for you. 

Mustering all the confidence you have, you lean down and start unzipping his pants with your teeth, all while keeping your eyes locked with his. 

He hisses through his teeth, lifting his hips off the floor, desperately trying to get closer to you only for you to push him back down by putting your weight on him. 

“Don’t be rude, Marius…good boys must be patient. Are you a good boy?”

He inhaled deeply. “Only if you want me to be…”

You click your tongue as you slowly slip your hand down his pants, earning another hiss from him the second your fingers make contact with his cock. “Babe…shit…” He curses under his breath when you finally pull his cock out, hot and heavy in your hand—the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen. Your small fingers can’t even wrap fully around him, swearing it has gotten bigger since the last time you saw it. 

You look at it with fascination, tracing the vein on the underside with your thumb, up to the tip, pink and leaking with precum. You latch onto the head with your lips before it could drip, licking it off with your tongue, relishing in the sweet salty taste of him while he’s struggling to keep himself composed. 

You release him with a pop but keep your hand around him as you stroke him gently. 

“Be a good boy and don’t cum until I say so…” His hips jerk upwards when you once again wrap your lips around him, taking him in inch by inch until your jaw hurts. His girth is simply too much for your small mouth—no amount of practice could get you to take him in whole, not without his help. So you settle for sealing your lips tightly around him, as deep as you can and swirl your tongue around him to stimulate him even further. You know how desperately he wants to grab you by the hair right now, to push you down even deeper, to fuck your throat until you gag—and heaven knows how much you want it too but you can’t give in just yet. 

You lift your head slightly to look at him and gods above, the sight of him alone can make you cum. His whole shirt is now unbuttoned–you can see the blush blooming on his cheeks up to his ears and despite the blasting air conditioner, he is sweating, covering his beautifully sculpted body with a thin sheen of perspiration. Your eyes follow that one droplet of sweat trailing down his neck, disappearing between his heaving chest—the expensive material of his white shirt is now sticking to his skin.

“Nngh…jiejie please…” You hear him say in between grunts.

Locking eyes with him, you give an inward lick before pulling your mouth off only to immediately go back in, sealing your lips around the head of his cock and licking between the slit to swallow more of his leaking precum. “Fuck, baby–!”

Fuck is right. His cock feels so fucking good in your mouth, you can’t help but moan as you swallow more of him, feeling it twitch when it finally touches the back of your throat. You only manage to keep him in there for a few seconds before yanking your head off to breathe, leaving a trail of saliva hanging between you and his tip. 

Marius’ eyes are rolled to the back of his skull, teeth biting his lower lip and nails sinking into his palms, willing himself not to cum even when he so desperately wants to. Knowing him, he’s already planning a hundred ways to get back at you after this and honestly, you’re excited for what’s to come. 

Releasing your grip around his dick, you smile at him innocently before standing up, leaving him flustered and breathless. Marius struggles with his restraints, trying to free himself, the regret finally sinking in for letting you tie him up in the first place because all he wants is to fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked. To bury his cock so deep inside all your holes and have you begging for more like you always do.

“Babe…what did I say about being patient?”

You seductively lift the hem of your lingerie dress, showing your soaking cunt, putting on a small show for him by rubbing your clit with one hand. The erotic display is making his cock even harder and you watch as it twitches, begging to be sat on. You pull away your fingers, showing him how wet you are before leaning down to smear it against his pecs. “Behave or I’m not letting you fuck me…” 

Like an obedient pet, Marius immediately stops struggling, looking up at you with dark eyes slightly covered by his hair. You can sense his frustration but you know he’s just as turned on as you.

You step closer to him, bending down to whisper next to his ear. “Will you make me cum with your mouth, Marius?” 

He smirks. “You ask as if I don’t already do that for you every morning, babe.”

Smart mouth; time to put it to good use. You roll your eyes and stand up, positioning your cunt in front of him, slowly pushing yourself against his mouth as you thread your fingers through his hair below you. He doesn’t waste any time, immediately latching onto your pussy before you can even prepare yourself, causing you to fall forward then grabbing onto the door of the wardrobe to keep yourself upright. 

“Oh my fucking god, Marius—” Your fingers tighten around him to keep yourself steady as you push your hips closer to him. 

He pulls back to spit on your cunt before diving back in—pushing his tongue in and out of your hole, feeling your walls clench around him, filling your ears with wet schlicking sound of him eating out your pussy sloppily. He licks a stripe in between your folds, relishing at the taste of your creamy cunt. And then he wraps his lips around your little nub, suckling on it gently and swirling his tongue around it—sending waves of intense pleasure throughout your body. 

Marius knows all your sweet spots. The spot behind your ear he likes to caress that makes you sigh his name breathlessly. The spot inside your pussy that he likes to ram into with his cock because every time without fail, it makes your knees buckle as you come undone with a scream. 

The little nub of your cunt that he loves to tease with his tongue because it gives you such an intense pleasure you end up squirting all over him like a fountain. 

“God…Marius I’m cumming—”

He shoves his tongue back inside even deeper—the sudden intrusion pushes you instantly to the edge, making you gush uncontrollably into his mouth. 

His tongue is caught in between your quivering walls, so he proceeds to swirl it around inside you, savouring your taste and prolonging your orgasm until he’s all but drenched in your release. 

When you’re done, you step back with your barely stable legs and look down at him. His shirt is completely drenched now, your juices dripping from his chin and down his neck travelling all the way down his abs, flexing as he begins to move again to adjust his hands behind him.

The realisation finally sunk in that he had made you cum with his mouth alone, without the help of his fingers. Almost as if he could read your mind, “What’s wrong, babe? Missing my fingers already?” he laughs as he flips his hair back to keep it out of his face. 

“No…”

“Let me go and I’ll show you how good my fingers feel inside you? Remember you need to prep before you can take me…”

A small noise came out of you at the thought. He’s right, it takes a lot of prep and foreplay for you to be able to fully take him in, and he always makes sure that you are ready before he even sheathes it inside you. 

But no, you’ve decided that today, you will finally get used to his size. You want to feel the stretch of your pussy as it accommodates him. 

“Mmmm…you’ve done enough. Just sit tight and enjoy…”

Marius’ eyes widened at that, but immediately followed by a proud smile. His cock stands stiff between his legs, his balls heavy with cum waiting to unload inside you. He relaxes his shoulders and leans back against the wardrobe behind him, cocking his eyebrow at you as an invitation to sit on him.

“Well then. Why don’t you come here and ride your King.”

His deep voice reignites the fire deep within your womb, making your cunt throb with the desperate need to be filled by him.

And so you position yourself above him, lifting the hem of your skirt just slightly so you can press the tip of his cock against your dripping entrance. He watches you intently, fighting the voice inside his head telling him to just push his hips up so he can finally be inside you. 

Set in a squatting position above him, you finally, slowly push yourself down on him. “Oh fuck—” you curse under your breath at the feeling of his cock stretching your tight cunt, feeling every ridge and vein against your walls. You’re grateful for the foreplay because at least you’re lubricated enough to help him slide his way through and finally, finally—with a long satisfied moan, his cock is now fully inside you.

You lean forward and grab both sides of his face with your hands before kissing him, licking and biting as you slowly move your hips. He moans against your mouth, his impatience kicking in and then he’s suddenly pushing his hips up to meet you halfway—making you scream.

“Marius!” 

“Fuck baby—I need you to move…please…”

Grabbing onto his shoulders, you pull yourself up slowly, leaving only his tip inside you just so you can hear him groan in frustration. Leaning down, you gently kiss him on the lips. “So impatient…” 

And then you slam your hips back down, taking him in fully, mind reeling at how big he feels inside you. “Oh my god…” You start moving your hips faster, bouncing yourself on his cock, filling the room with the sound of your ass smacking against his thighs. String of curses leave his lips when you start grinding even harder, taking him in deeper. 

“Touch yourself…let me see you play with that pussy while you ride me.” 

As if entranced, you lift the hem of your skirt with one hand and start rubbing your clit with the other—making you gasp upon contact, the sensation sending electric throughout your body. But it doesn’t feel the same as having his fingers inside you. His long slender fingers, the way they would skillfully play with your clit and slide into you…you need his hands. 

Just as you’re about to reach out behind him to untie his bounds, you suddenly feel his large hands on your hips, making you snap your head up to look at him with eyes wide in surprise that he’s escaped from the restraints. With a shit-eating grin, he slides his body down to lie flat on his back and with his hands still tightly gripping onto your hips he then starts fucking up into you with no mercy. 

“Shit—Marius! Ah—too deep!” You scream, planting your palms against his chest as you fall forward from his rough thrusting. One of his hands move from your hips to rip the top of your lingerie off to fully expose your breasts to him so he can watch them bounce as he begins to fuck you even faster. “Marius what the fuck—”

He latches onto one of your nipples and starts suckling while his right hand starts kneading the other, so plump and soft in his grasp. Loud moans leave you with abandon, the perks of finally moving in together, isolated from the rest of the world, away from the ears of people. There isn’t a need for soundproof walls because you two are the only residents in this entire floor.

A high-pitched scream is ripped out of you when his cock presses against that sweet spot inside your pussy, sending you gushing around him as if a dam has been broken.

“That’s it…baby. Cum for me…drench me just like that…” 

“Fuck oh my god—Mar…” Your whole body twitches and trembles on top of him as you ride the wave of your orgasm, leaving your whole body sensitive even to the slightest brush of wind against your skin. 

His abs and thighs are drenched with your release so he wipes them with his shirt before they could drip onto the floor. While he waits for you to fully regain your strength, he makes a move to remove his entire pants before carrying you off the floor—with his cock still plugged inside you. 

You wrap your arms around him and bury your face against the crook of his neck as you let yourself be carried onto the corner of the room, before he slowly places you down onto the desk, right on top of the floor plan layout that he had drawn just this morning. 

Marius presses his hands against the underside of your thighs to keep your legs apart as he tantalisingly slides his stiff cock in and out of you. Meanwhile, you’re still drunk and incoherent, yet to fully recover from your release. 

“You’re creaming so much around my cock, jiejie…so fucking wet for me…” 

He watches with fascination at the way your cream is smeared on his dick every time he pulls out. He runs his fingers through your hair before yanking your head back, rough enough to make you gasp—and then he’s leaving open mouth kisses up your neck towards the back of your ear. “Mmmngghh…babe…” you sigh when he licks the spot behind your ear, his breath hot against your skin. 

“Am I allowed to cum now? I’ve been a very good boy…”

Suddenly he’s pushing his fingers inside your mouth and you wrap your tongue around them instinctively, sighing as he slowly pulls them out and drags them down your body—leaving wet trails of your saliva down between the valley of your breasts and towards your waiting pussy. He pulls his cock out of you, leaving you empty and lets it stand erect between you. And before you can whine in frustration, your body jerks when his fingers suddenly make contact with your clit, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. 

Marius flicks your nub with his thumb as he sinks two of his long slender fingers inside you—the sensation of having your hole stretched makes your eyes roll back. 

“Will you let me fill you up, baby? Hmm?” He pushes in deeper, spreading them apart inside you. “Can you feel that? Your pretty little pussy is begging for my cum—it’s clenching around my fingers…” He hooks his fingers upwards making your body jerk against him, scrunching the paper beneath you. No words come out of you, just moans and pathetic whimpers, willing your body at his mercy. 

“Yes please…want—”

“Mmm you want to be fucked so bad don’t you…To fill you up…” He starts pumping his fingers, in—and out. “...with load after load…” A third finger goes in, stretching your walls even wider. “...until you’re leaking…and dripping…all over the floor with my cum…”

“Marius…please…”

Without warning, he suddenly pulls out his fingers from you and immediately sheathes his stiff cock inside you—ripping out a scream from your lungs. Marius pushes your thighs apart even wider, holding tight onto your ankles as he starts fucking your wet heat with abandon. You grab onto the sides of the table, nails sinking into the wood to hold yourself steady as you take his rough fucking like a champ. 

“My god…your pussy feels so fucking good…so fucking good…” He growls, somehow going even harder and faster, making your tits bounce wildly at every slam of his hips against your ass. He’s watching you through the curtains of his unkempt hair, damp with sweat and your release—eyes dark and blown with lust, promising a night full of hard, nasty and obscene fucking until your body is begging for respite.

Goosebumps rise all over your arms, nearing your edge as you begin to clench around his cock even tighter. The table moves and screeches against the tiles beneath you, knocking everything else off the table at the same time—pencils and papers rolling onto the floor. The sound of your squelching pussy and the wet smack of skin against skin fills your ear, stimulating you even further towards insanity. 

Whimpers turn into moans and moans turn into screams. Marius grabs you by the hair again and pulls your body up before crashing his lips against yours, kissing you roughly, sucking and biting your lips—only releasing you when you start gasping for air. Occasionally his necklace would brush against your skin, pulling you back into a state of awareness every time your vision starts turning white.

Your arms are wrapped around him, fingers sinking into his back, leaving scratches deep enough to mark him. Meanwhile, he’s sucking into the skin above your collarbones, branding you with several angry red marks.

His cock begins to twitch erratically within your walls, signalling that he’s close to release. 

“Watch me fuck my load inside you—” He folds your body forward so you can look at where your body is connected, his huge cock pumping in and out in quick rough thrusts, jamming himself so deep until he finally explodes inside you, spraying your walls with his scalding hot spend. Immediately after, you start gushing around him. 

Your body convulses against him, the wave of orgasm comes crashing on you like a ton of bricks, so intense to a point of blacking out. Marius is not doing any better but he manages to hold onto your weight with one arm, pumping his cock with his other hand ensuring every single drop of his cum ends up inside you. Your gushing release is not helping in the matter, causing everything to overflow out of you, dripping between the crack of your ass and onto the paper beneath you. 

The floor plan drawing is now ruined with splotches of wet marks, a combination of both of your fluids, seeped into the paper. 

“Marius…the floor plan—“

He pulls you off the table and pushes your body against the wall beside you, tits and cheek pressed against the cold surface. Marius’ huge body pins you from behind, cock heavy and resting against your ass, twitching and ready for more. He slides his hand towards your pussy so he can splay your folds with his fingers, teasing your clit as he slowly eases his cock back inside you from behind, dragging out the most salacious moan out of you. 

With your forearms on either side of your head against the wall, you stick your ass out instinctively to meet his thrusts, hips steadied by his large hands as he begins to jam himself even deeper. Your combined fluids fall freely down your thighs, both your ass and his hips completely soaked with slick. 

The sight of your cunt creaming around him pushes him to the brink almost instantly and with stuttering hips and one particularly hard slam of his hips against your ass, he explodes again deep within you. You whimper breathlessly in pleasure, drooling on yourself as you relish at the feeling of his hot semen filling your womb. 

“Nnnghh babe…we’re making such a mess.” You hear him say, keeping your hips in place as he pulls out of you suddenly to watch his spend leak out of you. There’s so much of it, and you feel so full of him—feeling it exit your body profusely, dripping messily onto the, thankfully, marbled floor. 

Still, he’s nowhere near done with you. 

“Time to clean up!” He chuckles lightly and then he’s throwing you over his shoulder, making you yelp in surprise but make no effort to resist. You’re just grateful that it’s finally time to clean up and rest. 

Unfortunately for you, you thought wrong. 

After stripping you both completely naked, Marius bends you over the bathtub and starts fucking you once again, sliding in so easily with the help of his previous loads inside you. The sound of the water running filling up the tub is drowned out by the obscene wet sound of his balls slapping against your pussy. Your tits bounce heavily from the force of his hard fucking, nipples grazing against the cold porcelain, making them even more erect and swollen, overstimulating you to the point of crying in extreme pleasure. 

“Marius…oh my god…so good…please…want…” You look so debauched, with tears streaming down your face as you breathe with your mouth open almost as if the oxygen isn’t getting to your lungs fast enough. 

Your delirious ramblings made him chuckle. He’s completely fucked you dumb that words fail you and yet all you want is more of him inside you. You’ll never have enough of him and him of you. He’s practically sex on legs, his mere presence and voice can make you come untouched. Most days when he makes love to you, it’s gentle and romantic, pampering and spoiling you with pleasure like a Queen. On some particularly unhinged days like today, he’ll fuck you like a whore, unforgiving and rough, until the sun is up and until you’re filled to the absolute brim with his cum and then maybe, he’ll stop. 

The man’s stamina is something that needs to be studied, because what the fuck. 

Marius pulls your body upright, lifting up your right leg and then starts fucking you where you stand, penetrating you even deeper with his cock in that position. He circles his hand around your neck, pulling your body taut against him so he can nibble on your earlobe. “Can you take more, jiejie…hmm?”

His hand moves from your neck to massage your breast, pinching and pulling on your nipple and then doing the same to the other one. You mewl under his touch, every movement pushing you closer to the edge. 

“...please, yes. I can…want…more…”

“Fuck…” He growls against your ear, his movements quickly becoming more aggressive, determined to fuck you until your cunt remembers his shape. He lifts your leg up even higher, thankful for your flexibility because at this angle he gets to penetrate you even deeper, until the tip of his dick touches the opening of your womb. His large hand presses onto the spot just below your stomach, squeezing it slightly, mind going feral at the prospect of filling you up again for the nth time that night. Maybe you’re going insane but you swear your belly feels slightly distended every time he thrusts inside you. 

Feeling the pressure growing in the pit of your stomach, you turn your head slightly and watch him through half lidded eyes; his brows furrowed, eyes focused on his cock going in and out of you, his hair damp with sweat, cheeks red and sweat dripping down his chin from the heat—he looks so fucking sexy, especially when he’s reduced to that because of you. 

He notices you looking at him, and winks at you—but immediately throws his head back when your walls start to clamp tighter around him. His jaw clenches, pecs tightening as he will himself not to come undone just yet but you’re not making it easier for him as you deliberately begin to push your ass towards him, sliding him even deeper inside your tight walls. 

“Shit…you little minx…”

“The bathtub is filling up…” 

“Mmmm…you know what else is filling up?” He grins, rotating his hips to adjust himself in an angle before spearing straight into that sweet spot inside you, reaching a depth that makes your heart stop for a split second. You both moan loudly, coming undone together in explosive orgasms—your voice pitching to a hoarse scream as your cunt squeezes around him, coaxing every drop of cum from his balls. 

You’re so sickeningly full of him that every plunge pushes more and more of his cum out, past your joined flesh until it drips onto the floor. Some of it leaks down the inside of your thigh so he pulls out, scoops it up with the tip of his cock and pushes it back inside you, not letting any more go to waste. “Mmm…let’s keep it all inside yeah? Good girl…” He slumps against you, grinning against your neck. 

It’s difficult to think straight when you’re still in the midst of your orgasm so you nod lightly and rest your head against him, your body weak and trembling. 

Still plugged inside you, he wraps his arms around you from the back and kisses the top of your head before leaning over to turn off the tap, just in time before the water overflows. 

When he finally pulls out of you, you turn around and slide down his body, trailing your nails down his abs as you sink to your knees in front of him before wrapping your fingers around his cock. His eyes roll to the back of his skull and you hear him hiss the moment your tongue wraps around his cock. You begin to suck him off sloppily, his hips stuttering as he cums again at record speed, spurting semen inside the hot caverns of your mouth to which you swallow obediently. You moan happily around him, sending vibrations throughout his body, making him moan your name to the ceiling in pleasure. 

You pull him out of your mouth and continue stroking him with your small hand, watching his cock twitch as it shoots more cum onto your face and bare tits, drenching you with his scent. The smell of sex hangs heavily in the air, absolutely not helping at calming down your libido.

When he’s done, and you’ve drained every single drop of cum out of him, or so you thought, you lightly tap his cock against your breasts, smearing the fluids all over your skin just to get a reaction out of him. 

“You know babe…it’s almost as if you don’t want me to stop fucking you—” He laughs before scooping you off the floor and then gently places you inside the tub. Your body is welcomed by the warm temperature of the water, rewarding a brief respite that your body desperately needs after the sex marathon it went through. 

Marius slides in behind you, adjusting you to sit in between his legs so you can lean back against him. He runs his fingers through your hair and starts gently massaging your head before moving down to the same to your shoulders. You hum contentedly as you relax under his touch, soft and gentle, a huge contrast from all the manhandling previously. 

He lifts your arm and entwines his fingers with yours, his hand so big compared to yours. He brings your hand towards his lips and kisses your ring before dipping in to kiss the side of your head. “My wife…”

You chuckle softly. “Nuh-uh, not yet…”

He laughs and pokes your cheek playfully. “I just did things to you that are exclusively husband and wife things…”

You turn around and give him a look. “But you’ve been doing those ‘things’ to me even before you put this ring on my finger so—” 

“Okay fine, you don’t have to call me out like that…” He whines and buries his face against the crook of your neck, nuzzling like a cat. “I guess I’ve always considered you my wife…mine and mine only…” His voice is muffled but you hear him clearly. He’s so sweet it makes your heart clench. 

You pull away from him and crane your neck to plant a soft kiss on his pouty lips. Big baby. 

“I’m yours, Marius. And you’re mine. My big giant baby…” You kiss him on the cheek. “Always so needy…’ And then the tip of his nose. “Who just so happens to be very handsome…” Between his brows. “...and extremely sexy...” 

“Just like you.”

“Shhh…this is about you.”

“Mmmm yes please, praise me more.”

You clear your throat. “With an extremely big…giant…”

“...cock.” 

“...heart.”

Your eyes widen with surprise, feeling his stiff cock pressing against your back. His hands start kneading your breasts, causing your body to burn with desire once more almost instantly. 

“Marius…”

“I love you…need you…again…” He breathes against your skin, his touches making you melt against him willingly, ready for pleasure. He lifts your hips up, positions his cock against your hole and then gently sinks you down on him—stretching your cunt so deliciously. 

The warm water sloshes around you, threatening to flow over the bathtub as he begins to bounce you on his cock. You grip onto the sides of the tub to hold yourself steady as he pistons into you from below, the position allowing him to reach deeper inside you and it feels so fucking good.

It’s only an hour later and when your fingers have turned into prunes did you finally finish bathing, for real. 

In the comfort of your bed, you snuggle against the heat of his body, cheek pressed on his chest as you listen to his steady heartbeat. Soon after, with the exhaustion finally creeping in, you are both lulled into a deep slumber, safe and comfy in each other's arms.

When the gentle ray of sunshine hits your eye in the morning, you are stirred awake by Marius’ large hand squeezing onto the fat of your thigh. His eyes are still closed so he’s either still asleep or at least pretending to be. You reach up slowly to flick his eyelashes, too long for his own good as if he even needs them—and then poke his nose playfully. 

“Good morning…” You whisper softly, in a sing-songy tone and then watch as his mouth curls into a smirk. 

“Morning babe…” He responds, his morning voice husky and deep. He wraps his strong arm around you and pulls you close, pressing his morning erection against your clothed pussy. You mewl involuntarily, noticing how he’s already pulled his cock out of his briefs because you feel how hot and heavy he is against you. 

This is mornings with Marius. You’re either stirred awake by him eating your pussy or with his erection pressed against you, twitching and begging for attention. You have no complaints though, since you’re as needy as he is—your libidos are never fully satiated. So mornings like these help you to at least get it out of your system so you can go to work without thinking about wanting to get railed in the middle of typing a report. 

Marius moves closer to you and pulls your panties aside then starts rubbing his tip in between your folds, smearing them with precum. You wrap your arms around his neck and push yourself against him, so he can sink his cock inside you, joining your flesh once again. 

The morning sex is always gentle, as he will rock his hips against you, fucking you slowly while he wraps you in a tight embrace. It does however turn into something hot and heavy a few minutes later, with you gripping onto the sheet as you are washed over with back arching, toe curling orgasms, yes plural, because Marius is just too fucking good at using his cock to let you leave the bed with just one. 

It finally ends with him unloading inside you, filling your womb with a copious amount of cum until you leak messily onto the sheets, staining it white. Luckily for you, he’s learned how to do laundry and he promises to be the one to wash it whenever this happens.

On a hilarious note, you can imagine Payton jumping with joy at the thought of not having to wash whatever suspicious stains on Marius’ sheets ever again ever since you both decide to move out of the mansion. Bless the old man. 

——

a/n: are yall breathing cus i most certainly am not lmao dm me with your thoughts and share me more brainrot 💜

[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller's ff) - chapter 5

chapter 4 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 6

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. (it's actually 2004 now)

summary: after what happened a couple of months ago, you are ready to move forward. joel? not so much. he might need a little... prodding.

warnings: 18+, mdni. internal and verbal discussions of feelings, trauma and past relationships. some jealousy (if you squint very hard). porn with plot or plot with porn (however you wanna look at it). again, absolutely filthy smut because i don’t know any better (sorry not sorry). fluff. voyeurism (you spy on joel). masturbation (f and m). oral (f and m receiving). finger sucking. unprotected piv. praise kink. sir kink. size kink. cum eating. a bit of cum play. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. squirting. dirty talk. you are very needy in this one and joel is very possessive over you. soft!dom!joel. aftercare. pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, baby, honey). i'm sure i'm forgetting something lol. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 36. no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov.

a/n: hiya! first i want to thank you all for the positive feedback this series has gotten! [: i started writing this for myself mainly, and decided to post it here thinking that if a couple of people liked it, it'd make my heart happy. also, i have taken some licenses with joel's past, as neither the game nor the tv show gives many details (you'll understand what i mean). anyways! after the last chapter, our two protagonists (you!) deserve a bit of calm, peace and quiet... right? 😈 as always, thank you all for engaging. i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! even asks/requests/side stories if you want to! take care lovelies <3 x

w/c: ~6.3k (sorry?).

tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981

August came around relatively quickly. Tommy had proposed you got closer to civilisation, which meant long trekking trips while the sunlight was still up. Joel agreed reluctantly, as he still thought that was dangerous. You just went along with it, letting them decide ― you didn’t really care where you ended up as long as the Millers were by your side.

Well, one of them especially.

At daytime you barely had time to yourself. However, the story was completely different at nighttime. The second you closed your eyes, snippets of what had happened two months ago flooded your memory. For the first few weeks, the nightmares were unbearable. You would wake up in the dead of night, sweaty and shaking.

And every time you woke up, Joel was by your side. He would hug you while you both laid on improvised beds, no matter how uncomfortable it was. Neither of you would talk, you would just cry in silence while your panic attack subsided ― Joel holding you throughout the whole episode. He had truly been a rock you could hold onto in the middle of a sea storm.

It got to the point where Tommy had started to realise that something was up between you two. Neither you nor Joel denied nor confirmed anything, although Tommy never asked. He would just look away when his brother would attend to you if you fell behind or would offer to do the first night shifts so Joel could be by your side at bedtime.

You were somewhat sure that Joel really cared about you. The way he would look at you… it sent shivers down your spine. The intensity in his eyes was hypnotising ― sometimes you would find yourself lost in his brown orbs, unable to look away. You also really cared about him.

You didn’t want to put a label to your feelings, mainly because you were not sure how Joel would react. You had come to understand that the man was prone to evade any topic about his feelings in general ― physical, emotional or otherwise. You could still not get him to tell you whenever he felt off. Since the blow to his head a couple of months back, Joel had been suffering with horrible headaches, to the point where he had fainted in a couple of instances.

The man was such a closed book you found out about his deceased wife the same way you knew about Sarah ― through Tommy. You assumed he had one or at least a partner at some point in time before the outbreak. The younger brother didn’t give you many details though, not that you asked either ― some wounds were better left untouched.

You liked Tommy a lot. He was a godsend ― so very different to Joel, but so similar in many ways. He was talkative and filled in long silences with stories about how they would cause mayhem at home when they were kids. You didn’t know if they were true or not, but they were entertaining nonetheless. You were under the impression that Tommy was the one who got into sticky situations and Joel was the one who had to fix them.

“I’m gonna go to the lake for a bit”, Joel told you, derailing your train of thought.

“No worries, I’ll get the fire going. Poor Tommy is always the one setting up camp”, you replied with a slight smile.

“Yeah, poor me, relegated to such unsignificant tasks”, said Tommy with a chuckle.

You smiled back and then looked in Joel’s direction. He was frowning at both of you, but quickly controlled his face expression.

“I’ll be back soon”, Joel crouched to look through his backpack, grabbing a couple of towels.

Something inside of you twisted. But you pushed the thought to the back of your head. You had already volunteered to start the fire.

You really tried to focus on the bonfire. And after a few attempts, you finally got it going. Joel had not come back yet from the lake ― it had only been ten minutes, but you were slightly worried in case he had lost consciousness again while no one was around.

“I’ll go check on him”, you told Tommy.

He looked at you with a sarcastic smile.

“Sure thing”, he replied while he started to skin a rabbit.

You rolled your eyes before you left in the direction Joel had gone.

You walked the hundred metres that separated the camp and the lake. The brothers had ensured the area was completely devoid of human existence before they decided to settle there for the night. You were now in Mark Twain National Forest, near St. Louis. You had checked out Kansas City a week ago, but both Tommy and Joel had deemed it too unsafe. So Chicago was your final destination. None of you knew what you would encounter there, but it was worth a try. The wilderness had not proven to be any safer.

Before you got to the bank of the lake, you spotted Joel in the water. He had his back towards you, your eager eyes checking out his broad shoulders, the water level up to his hips. He ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it back.

You stopped walking, somewhat mesmerised, your head slightly tilted to one side with curiosity. In the last two months, you had discovered a new side to Joel you didn’t know he had.

You guessed that what happened that night also affected him in a different way it did you. After he almost decapitated that man, you saw guilt in his eyes when he looked at you ― you still sometimes caught a glimpse of it to this day. As you found out later, that culpability was because he felt responsible for what those men did to you ― he really thought he could have done more. And he did in a sense, because for the next couple of days he hunted down every man in that group until there was no one left to hurt you. Apparently, that was not enough in his eyes, although it was in yours. But as much as you tried to explain that to him, it just wouldn’t sink in. He was so stubborn it made you go crazy sometimes.

Although Joel had been there for you emotionally, he had not touched you for the last two months. You managed to steal a few kisses from him and that was it. He had been extremely cautious with you in that respect. You were relieved he was as you tried to come to terms with what had happened, but after a few weeks it started to feel… frustrating. You were not broken and despite what he thought, you still had needs.

He suddenly looked over his right shoulder, offering you his side profile ― to you, he was gorgeous. Feeling like a child caught causing mischief, you quickly hid behind a tree. Joel looked around, eyebrows touching in confusion, but then he shook his head as if he was imagining things and proceeded to cup his hands in the water to wet his face.

You couldn’t not watch. You instantly realised that was the first time you saw him naked. The last ―and, regrettably, the only― time you two had sex, he was fully clothed. There was something very intimate about seeing him washing up.

You were so transfixed on the picture in front of you it was like the world had disappeared around you. Joel rubbed his skin with a hand towel ― his strong arms, his chest, his back, his lower stomach… Your breath quickened a bit, your heart picking up a pace. Everything about him invited you in ― it wasn’t only his rugged appearance that appealed to you, but also his character.

You started to feel hot. Had the temperature suddenly gone up? It seemed like it. Joel put the hand towel on his left shoulder. When you saw his right hand disappear below the water in front of him, your mouth went dry wishing it was your hand. You wanted to help him clean his manhood so badly ― memories of his delightful cock rocking you into a trance short-circuited your brain.

Before you could stop yourself, you placed one hand on your belly, biting your bottom lip. You finally gave in to temptation, pushing past the edge of your panties. You dipped two fingers in your slit, doing circular movements around your clit. Your eyes, albeit halfway closed in pleasure, could not leave Joel as he kept on freshening up. You pushed down your fingers a bit more, sliding one of them in your needy hole.

You closed your eyes, a half-smile showing on the corner of your lips. That felt so good. If Joel was going to do nothing about it ― fine, you would. Still behind the tree, out of sight, you held on to the bark with your free hand, upping the rhythm of your wet fingers, your thumb rubbing that tight knot in your fold. Then you slightly opened your eyes again ― you wanted to stare at Joel while you came.

But he wasn’t there anymore. You frowned, confused, but you were too busy to worry about that right now. So you closed your eyes again to fully focus on the task at hand. You leaned your forehead against the tree, feeling your orgasm wash over you with intensity. You pressed your lips, suppressing a moan as to not alert Joel of your presence.

“Am I interrupting?”, his soft voice forced you to glance in his direction with starry eyes.

He was on your righthand side, just half a metre away from you. Entirely naked in all his glory, an erection creeping up on him. You were speechless, partially because you had been caught spying on him and partially because you were still feeling the last remnants of your climax, your inner walls crying for something to choke.

“I―I…”, you really tried to excuse yourself, but your voice faltered when your eyes checked him out from top to bottom.

His body was chiselled, his muscles somewhat defined, especially around his waist. He had a pronounced V line with a hairy, happy trail which you avidly followed with your eyes until you were gifted with the sight of his veiny cock. You unconsciously licked your bottom lip.

Your fingers were still dunked in your warm pussy. Joel grabbed your wrist and took your hand out of your underwear, raising it to eye level. Your digits were sticky, covered in your own cum. You should feel ashamed, but you definitely didn’t. Not with him. Joel looked into your eyes, and, without breaking visual contact, he brought your slick fingers closer to his face. With no hesitation, he opened his mouth and pushed them into it, licking them clean. You felt your cunt gushing, eyelids half closed. You could have easily come again for him, but he released your fingers far too quickly for your liking.

“You naughty girl”, he whispered as he pulled you from the wrist to get you closer to his chest. “You taste even better than what I imagined”.

“I didn’t think you were…”

“Aware of your presence? Always, darlin’”, he finished for you.

Your cheeks blushed when he freed your wrist and lifted your chin up. His thumb caressed your bottom lip, his mouth just an inch away from yours. You bowed to kiss him, but he backed up a little, denying you.

“Are you sure you wanna do this, sweetheart?”, he asked, you could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

You nodded vehemently.

“Yes, please, Joel, I really need to feel you, to have you fuck me senseless”, you emphasized, short-breathed.

He seemed to consider your words for longer than what was acceptable. You saw his eyes flying between yours and your lips.

“Please?”, you begged.

Your prayers might have been heard, because he leaned forward, brushing your mouth with his.

“Then go down on your knees, darlin’”, he whispered against your lips.

You silently gasped as your clit pulsed at his words. You were delighted to follow his command, and so you kneeled compliantly.

When your knees touched the grass, his cock was at eye level. You couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. His dick was as big as you remembered, the memory of it filling you up still haunted you. It was so erected now that the tip touched his belly button. Joel looked so strained you thought he had to be in pain. And you were more than willing to help him alleviate it.

You moved your hand forward, but before you could try to wrap your fingers around him, Joel stopped you.

“No, with your mouth”, was his order.

You intertwined your fingers on your lower back and inclined your heard towards him. You gazed up at him, his jawline very tense. You let your tongue out and shyly tapped his glans with the tip. Joel closed his eyes immediately and grumbled loudly as his cock twitched in front of you.

That was all you needed to spur you on. You widely opened your mouth to house his manhood and sealed your lips around the head, the tip of your tongue trying to push open the slit on his foreskin. You played with him for a bit while your jaw relaxed. Then you started to push him in further and further down your mouth, as far as you could take him. His glans pushed past your uvula, you could barely breathe, just as you had imagined a few months ago ― a dream come true. You bobbed your head back and forth, feeling him in your throat, your eyes watering. But you were still not close to have his dick entirely in your mouth ― he was so damn big.

Joel growled in ecstasy as he looked down to you. The sight of you on your knees with your mouth stuffed, bright beautiful eyes, your tongue maliciously inciting him… He just couldn’t believe how giving you were.

“Look at you with your mouth so full”, he said placing one of his hands under your chin. He could feel his own cock expanding your throat. “You look so damn pretty, baby”.

You leaned back a bit, releasing most of his erection except for the tip. With the help of one hand you started pumping his shaft, the other gently massaging his balls. Joel eyed you intensely while you ate him up like a lollypop. His salty flavour inundated all your senses, your eyes pinned on his.

His fingers clenched in frustration.

“Shit, stop, I’m gonna come”, he mumbled as he pushed back to free his dick from your wicked lips.

No way in hell, you thought. He was not about to deny you that. You had been thinking about this moment for fucking months, you wouldn’t let him take that pleasure away from you.

You grasped him by his ass, your palms firmly pressing on his buttocks to take his cock even deeper. You then gave him head as best as you knew how, fastening the rhythm when you felt the pulsation coming from him.

“Fuck, baby―”, he moaned your name as he came in your hot, wet cavity.

You felt his spent hit the back of your throat. It was so tangy and musky. You swallowed all of it. Ah, delicious, you thought gleefully. You let go of his ass and released his dick from the prison of your lips.

You placed the palms of your hands on your knees, still on the ground, and glanced up at him innocently with a sweet smile painting your face. You then opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show Joel you had eaten all his cum ― a bridge of spit connecting the tip of your tongue to his glans.

He dropped one hand to break off the arch of saliva between you and him with his index, and fed it to you ― you gladly accepted, sucking his finger clean.

“Did I do good, sir?”, you asked with a small voice, looking for praise.

“Good? You did fucking splendid, sweetheart”, you beamed with the compliment and got up to your feet when he offered you a hand.

He took your hand, walking behind him as he headed towards the lake. He turned around to face you and kissed you slowly, his tongue caressing your palate. He then took a step back. The sun was setting on his back, the orange and red lighting reflecting off the waterbed. His brown eyes, bearded jaw, hooked nose, his hair curling at the nape of his neck… He looked like a roman God ― Mars, you thought. Joel looked like a man about to fight for his life and yours on the battlefield.

He sat down on a massive flat rock one metre away from the bank of the lake, which was approximately two metres wide in both directions.

“Now undress for me, baby”, he instructed.

You did not hesitate ― all your clothing fell to your feet, piece by piece, while Joel eagerly watched the show you put on. He wetted his bottom lip while he readjusted his cock on his lap. You stood there with dreamy eyes, awaiting. He motioned one hand towards the rock he was sat on, an invitation for you to join him.

Once you were sat on his right, he placed his left hand around the front of your neck ― a very slight touch that forced you to flatten your back against the rock while he positioned himself on top of you. He bit your chin while his left hand put a sweet amount of pressure on your throat. You could tell he was controlling himself.

“My turn”, he whispered, coming off you.

He got off the rock, kneeling on the ground in front of you. You put your elbows down on the rock to lift your torso and be able to look at him, your knees bent, the sole of your feet against the cold surface of the rocky platform. Joel grabbed you by the hips and scooted your ass over to the edge of the rock. Your legs were firmly pressed against each other, trying to hide your quivering cunt ― suddenly you felt shy.

“Spread your legs open for me, darlin’, lemme see”, he commended you with his hands on your knees.

You couldn’t say no to him, you didn’t want to. So you obeyed, dropping your legs to the sides, offering him your dripping fold. He traced your slit with his index, and you moaned.

“You’re so fucking wet already. So receptive, aren’t you?”, he asked looking at you dead in the eye, his finger sinking in between your legs, looking for the entrance. “Who gets your pussy so wet?”, he pushed his fingertip in your hole, and you groaned loudly. “Who, darlin’? Use your words”.

“You, only you, sir”, you gasped.

“This is mine”. He pushed in the second phalange.

You closed your eyes, trying to control your breathing.

“All yours, yes”.

His finger got completely sucked in down to his knuckle, stroking your g-spot. You harshly pressed your lips.

“Exactly, don’t you dare forget that”, his tone was so serious you looked at him enigmatically, not really understanding where that sudden possessiveness came from, but you loved every bit of it. And you were more than happy to put his doubts to rest.

You nodded frantically.

“I would never, sir, I swear my pussy is all yours”, you really meant it.

“As it should be”, he added a second finger as he leaned forward and kissed your mound.

You sighed, eyes teary, and flattened your back against the rock again, as Joel made out with the fatty skin above your clit. He introduced a third finger, all of them rubbing your anterior wall. Then his mouth dropped and sucked in your clit. Your knees trembled while you held both of your breasts, playing with your nipples and biting down your lip to stop your wanton screams. He insisted with his kissing until your wet cunt started fluttering around his fingers, a clear tell you were about to come. He stroked your clit with his teeth, very lightly, sending shivers up your spine. Your legs pressed against his head, tension building up. And then, finally, sweet release. You came so hard on his mouth, and he drank it all.

He unburied his head from in between your legs and glanced at you with a sufficient smile.

“You taste even better directly from your creamy cunt, baby”, you were glad he was so talkative during sex, especially if it was to praise you.

Joel placed the palm of his hand over your mound, his fingers covering your damp pussy, and rubbed with just the right amount of friction. You exhaled slowly.

“I’m gonna make you come again”, he promised.

You pursed your lips, your cunt palpitating at the prospect.

“I don’t know if I can―”, you uttered under your breath.

He raised an eyebrow, almost as if he was offended. Joel grabbed your thighs and pulled towards him; the back of your knees placed on his shoulders.

“Don’t doubt me, of course you can. I said I’ll make you”, his mouth was so close to your moist pussy you felt his cool breath on your damp skin.

You whimpered when his tongue swept your entire slit unhurriedly, from your perineum to your clit, his hand climbing up your body to squeeze one of your breasts firmly. Joel repeated that move a few times ― and your brain chemistry would be changed forever after that. He briefly pinched your nipple while he paid special attention to the core of your pleasure. Joel smothered your clit with his lips ― you closed your eyes while placing a hand over his on your boob.

Joel’s tongue stopped torturing you for a second. He nudged your clit with the tip of his hooked nose and then inhaled your sweet smell. That scent was making him go wild with lust to the point where he started fisting his cock, the tip already leaking with precum. He flattened his tongue against your swollen lips, wiggling it through the slit to touch your needy hole. He could not believe you were this wet for him ― if he had the chance, he would drink from your seeping fold every single day. This was how ambrosia tasted like ― he was damn sure of it.

He placed his hands to each side of your puffy flaps to spread your pussy open, while the tip of his tongue slipped inside of you. Your free hand flew to his head, fisting a handful of hair. Your toes clenched as he started to fuck your hole with his tongue. You felt your whole uterus contracting so hard it was almost painful. Your cum started to ooze out as a new orgasm hit you with full force, yelling his name. Joel did not waste any of it, licking it off you shamelessly.

What just happened ― that felt like sin, the most beautiful sin you had ever experienced. Your breathing was so irregular you thought you were going to have a heart attack. Then you heard Joel snickering as he got back up to his feet.

“See? Told ya”, he said smugly as you placed the elbows on the rock to lift your chest and glance at him.

He was jerking off, his cock ready for you again. You sat back up and leaned forward, your hands on his muscular thighs as you kissed the slippery tip, the shaft, then his balls. You showered pecks all over his manhood, worshipping it.

“S-sorry, sir, can I ask? Is your cock only mine? P-please?”, you asked in between smooches, almost panting, looking at him with puppy eyes.

Joel’s irises were swirling with desire, his hips slightly slanted forward towards your mouth, his dick visibly spasming while he caressed your cheek.

“All yours, yes”, he replicated your exact words, your heart fluttering with contempt.

You smiled at him before licking his testicles again ― your hand pushing his shaft against his lower belly to give you better access. Your eyes never abandoned his as your saliva covered his soft ball sacks.

This time he did step back, and you let him.

“I need you inside me, please”, you murmured.

His jaw was so tight he didn’t dare to speak. Joel could feel his heartbeat on his cock, all because of you and your wanton mouth. You looked so damn beautiful ― on your knees, staring at him through your eyelashes, patiently waiting. He knew you very well by now, fully conscious that as sweet as you were acting now, that was it ― an act. And he loved every bit of it. He liked the way you replied to him when sex wasn’t involved, taking no shit from anyone, your snarky remarks driving him crazy.

Joel sat down on the rock and motioned for you to join him on his lap. You joyfully obliged, sitting atop of him. Your knees to each side of his waist, your bust against his, skin to skin. Your nipples grazed his chest, becoming harder at the electric contact. He cupped both of your boobs and pushed them up, so he could kiss them tenderly. You sighed, your mouth against his ear. Still holding your breasts, he unattached his lips from your nipples to peck your chin.

“Fuck me, darlin’”.

You looked down between you two. His erection was so prominent you knew it was hurting him. And you could ease that pain for him. Heaving, you lifted your hips up and grabbed his dick. It was hard but soft at the same time, velvety, very warm and beating. So sensitive to the touch he groaned ― music to your ears. You hugged his neck with your free arm as you guided his tip to your leaking entrance.

With a sudden drop of your hips, you impaled yourself harshly ― his bollocks kissing your tumid lips. You circled your hips against his, very slowly, which made you both moan in unison. Then you raised your body, his cock slipping out completely. Holding him from the base, you came down on him sharply again.

Joel was close to losing his mind. If you did that one more time, he wasn’t going to be able to hold it for much longer. You seemed to understand that, because you started to rock your hips back and forth, up and down. He kneaded your ass, feeling your rhythm, spurring you on. His fingers squeezed the skin under them while he kissed your collarbone. His mind was completely blank ― he could only focus on your sweet pussy hugging him, choking him. His dick felt so wet, so hot, throbbing for release… You kept on riding him, your movements growing erratic as you both were close to climax.

You surrounded Joel’s neck with both arms, pressing your breasts against his handsome face, your hips flushed with his, as your cunt angrily convulsed around his erection in blissful liberation. Joel held it together while you recovered, his hands still on your ass cheeks, fingers so clutched they were close to dislocating.

“Baby, if you don’t get off, I’m―”, pain smeared his tone. He was really fighting for his life right there and then.

“Oh, sorry”, you said with a small voice, still feeling your own pleasure. You elevated your hips, so his manhood popped out with a squelching sound.

You were not going to leave him hanging, obviously. So you kneeled before him, in between his strong legs, and kissed his tip. Joel sighed loudly when you closed off your lips around him for the second time today and pumped his shaft fast and strong, milking him dry. A minute later, your throat was clogged with his spent. A drop of it trickled down the corner of your mouth.

Joel leaned forward and caught the cum off the corner of your mouth with his thumb before rubbing it on your lips. Then he kissed you wetly, devouring you. He could never have enough of you.

“Thank you, sir”, you whispered with a smile when he was done assaulting your mouth.

He just smiled back. A genuine smile, the first you had seen from him. It tugged at your heart a little.

You were still feeling restless. Although you had orgasmed four times already, your pussy lips were so inflamed you thought you were on your way down to hell. Still on your knees in front of him, you softly massaged your sensitive clit. It was burning ― you suppressed a sob as you glanced up at him, lips slightly parted.

“What is it? Is your tight pussy still gushing, sweetheart?”, he asked you, cupping your chin.

You nodded, tears of frustration blurring your vision.

“I need more, I can’t ― my pussy is on fire, sir”, you muttered, feeling sorry for yourself. You were in a heightened state of sensory overload.

“Let me help you with that then”, you almost cried of relief at his words.

You quickly got up and kneeled on top of his lap again. He slipped a hand in between your bodies to caress your core. Your flesh trembled at the touch. Suddenly you realised you desperately needed to find your own rhythm ― you didn’t have to communicate it, Joel understood it in a second. He stopped and let you do what you had to do. You placed the palm of your hands on his shoulders and started rubbing your pussy against the side of his still hand. You slid your cunt further up to his elbow, and then returned back to his wrist. Your clit greedily welcomed the tingling sensation of the hair on his forearm against your wet slit.

You kept on rocking your hips back and forth on his forearm, pressing hard against it, sliding, rubbing and causing as much friction as you could, the heat in your belly flowing down to your crotch. You buried your fingers in his wet hair and tilted his head backwards so you could rest your forehead against his. Your inner walls contracted extremely hard and then you let go, squirting plentifully for a few never-ending seconds on Joel’s forearm. Your overstimulated cunt was leaking on top of him as if someone had opened the tap of your pleasure and couldn’t close it. When the last wave of your climax abandoned you, you looked down to see how it all trickled down from his forearm onto his lap.

You closed your eyes, content, when he gently tapped your pussy a few times. You breathed in deeply, feeling completely satisfied, finally at peace. Then you pecked his lips with gratitude.

“Better now, baby?”.

“Yes, infinitely better. I―I’m sorry I made a mess”.

“Don’t you apologise for that”.

You both remained in that position for a few minutes ― his now relaxed, wet cock warmly lodged between the flaps of your still dribbling cunt. He hugged your waist to bring you closer to him, his mouth brushing yours in a moment of calmness you had not experienced with him yet.

When his lips released yours, you placed your cheek against his right shoulder, your fingertips tracing the scar on it. Silence ensued, neither of you felt the need to fill it with words.

As much as you fought against yourself, you had feelings for Joel. Although you probably didn’t know all his faces, you knew enough about him to love him. The way he would have you on your tiptoes with his sarcastic comments, his bluntness, his rudeness, the way he would snap back at you when you pressed his buttons ― but also his kindness, his caring side, his softness, how he worried about you making sure you were okay, his demanding sexual needs, the way he made you feel when his hands mapped out your skin.

But you were not sure what he thought about all of this. In some respects, his mind was inscrutable. It was part of his charming personality, you guessed. You kissed the scar on his shoulder as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent.

“I love how you smell”, he murmured.

“Is that the only thing you love about me?”, you couldn’t resist, the words just slipped out of your mouth. You wished you could take them back, but it was too late for that.

Joel slightly froze in place at your question. He couldn’t deny that he had started to develop feelings for you. The way you looked at him made him want to be a better person. Although you drove him crazy sometimes, you made his days bearable, a shining beautiful light amongst so much darkness. You were his lighthouse, guiding him to shore. He just needed to learn how to surf through the violent waves before he could safely approach the coast.

Knowing how close he had been to losing you had opened his eyes to a new, unknown reality. He would literally kill for you if he had to ― he had already done it and would do it all over again without blinking. No regrets whatsoever.

But he had some unresolved trust issues when it came to romantic relationships. Joel married Sarah’s mother, Charlotte, when they were both twenty-one years old, as soon as they knew they were expecting. The first two years were very hard on them both, parenthood was not a piece of cake. Resentment had grown between them, to the point where Charlotte had accused him of robbing her of her fun years, which led her to cheat on him. They tried to salvage their marriage for the sake of Sarah, but they never did ― Charlotte died in a car accident while on a heated, angry phone call with Joel.

He locked away those thoughts ― it wasn’t the time nor the place to dwell on the past. Not when he had you with him.

“I… well, no. I love everything about you, sweetheart”, he conceded.

Your heart skipped a beat with joy. No, it wasn’t a love confession, but it was much more than what you were expecting of him. You turned your face against his neck and placed a kiss on his Adam’s apple.

“C’mon, let’s freshen up, I want to clean my mess off you, I do feel a bit bad”, you said with a chuckle.

You got off his lap, the cool breeze touching your sweaty skin. You offered him a hand, which he took, standing up behind you. Without letting go of his fingers interlaced with yours, you guided him to the water. It was cold, but you ventured inside with Joel following you. When the level was up to your waist, you turned around in Joel’s embrace.

You proceeded to wash off your cum and his off his cock, his lap, his forearm. When you were done, he kissed the top of your head. His left hand did the same to you, his fingers caressing your pussy, cleaning the proof of your shared pleasure. He did so not in a sexual way, but in a caring, intimate way. A minute later, you both disappeared beneath the water to emerge a second later, to wash off all the sweat. You found yourself in his arms again, your cheek against his chest ― you could hear his heart beating loudly but steadily.

“Joel, I―”, you didn’t know where to start. There were thoughts you had been wanting to put into words for a while now. “What happened to me sucks and I still die a bit inside when the memories come back at night. But none of it was your fault, nor mine. I do not want those bastards to win, to ruin my life. And my life with you. And I know it will take time to heal that part of me, or maybe it will never heal, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want you. I want you so badly, Joel, but what I do not want is you walking on eggshells around me. I’m not broken, I want to move forward, not get stuck in the past. Do you understand what I mean?”, you asked, your cheek still against his chest, looking up at him.

His eyes were focused on yours. His heart shrunk a bit, sharing your pain. If he could, he would take it away, all of it ― the fear, the panic attacks, the agony, the memories, the nightmares. But he couldn’t change the past. So, he nodded.

“I do, honey”, he whispered as he bowed down to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

You both stood there for a few more minutes, hugging each other in silence. Then Joel grumpily ended the embrace.

“We should get back, Tommy is going to kill us”.

You laughed because it was so true. You both got out of the lake, towelled down and got dressed. You started walking towards the campsite besides him ― your hand in his, fingers entangled. When you saw the tent and Tommy’s outline against the fire, you got ready to release his hand. But he didn’t let go when Tommy turned around to look at both of you.

You tried to hide a soft smile ― and failed.

The younger Miller noticed you holding hands but made no comment about it. But he did smile. A very wide smile.

“Well, about damn time, dinner is almost ready”, he said with amusement, pointing to the rabbit impaled with a stick roasting on top of the fire. “If you took any longer, the rabbit was going to come back to life and run away”.

“Always so theatrical, Tommy”, you chuckled.

[sigmasemen]

WHEN THEY GIVE YOU THEIR COAT. (2/2)

multiple blue lock characters x reader

tags: established relationships, tooth rotting fluff, short headcanons

taglist: n/a currently.

characters: jingo raichi, meguru bachira, yo hiori, kurona ranze, sae itoshi, gin gagamaru, michael kaiser, kenyu yukimiya, alexis ness, gender neutral!reader.

word count: 2348

extra notes: reposted from my wattpad ^- ^ !! older work... you cannot get me to read this shit. had to post it in multiple parts sorry y'all!!

MICHAEL KAISER:

- Dating Kaiser was an entire rollercoaster, so getting around wasn't too hard. He had the money to afford limousine after limousine for you two, except when you two chose to go out on a hiking trip. "Good for training!" He said. He lied.

- Now here you two were, dashing home in the rain as makeup dripped down both of your faces. Kaiser had attempted to carry you, yet nearly slipped so you refused to get back in his arms.

- Around 10 minutes of moving, you realized how deep in this trail you were. It seemed Kaiser noticed too, as he sighed and finally paused.

- "Follow me!" He grasped your hand and ran you to a small cave. It was the sort of thing you saw in those stereotypical movies. It even made you wonder if Kaiser had purposefully planned this. Still, you got in.

- "Seriously? A cave?"

- He laughed, "Well, I'm not sure we have much of a choice, now do we?" He reached towards his own front and quickly unzipped his jacket to put around your shoulders. 

- "For you."

- You pause and softly laugh, "I'm not some damsel in distress. Besides, this is soaked too."

- Kaiser just shrugged, getting closer to your warmth and leaning his head against your's. His arms soon wrapped around you as well. "Well, I might as well warm you up with my body."

- It wasn't like you had any complaints with that.

KENYU YUKIMIYA:

- You weren't aware of who Yukimiya was beyond Blue Lock before this. He was one of the top 6 to you, one of the people who had been an essential part to the U20 match. Honestly? You hadn't ran into anyone from Blue Lock since this break had started.

- However, you had chosen to go outside now of all times in a brightly lit street with gleaming lights hitting your eyes. Even so, it was raining. It dropped off the signs and right onto your faces. You were one of the few people that didn't have an umbrella and didn't see any holders in sight.

- So, for 10 minutes, you walked through the freezing cold rain. You allowed the rain to make your shirt stick to your skin and make you shiver. The dissatisfactory feeling haunted you as you walked past a bowling place.

- Your eyes eventually landed on Yukimiya. You didn't expect to see him of all people out here, but it wasn't the best time for you. You didn't look good at all.

- But, of course, he had to notice you. His eyes narrowed as he saw you, giving a short chuckle and walking over to pull off his bright orange scarf over your head and dark grey coat over your shoulders without a word.

- He paused, "You shouldn't get yourself like this, you might not be able to face off against everyone in Blue Lock."

- "Wouldn't that be better for you?"

- "It would, I would just hate to see you like this." He reached up and pushed through your wet hair, "You should focus on getting home. It's getting dark."

- You paused to stare at him, before nodding, "Right, thank you Kenyu."

- "It's my pleasure. I'll see you tomorrow?" He smiled, starting to walk off yet looking over his shoulder to wave.

- And you matched that, tightening the coat around you to make a dash for your place once more.

ALEXIS NESS:

- Oh how Ness is so doting over you. Every little thing, he wants to make sure you're perfectly pampered and feel special during the entire date! He's planned it out in his head for months, researched this festival multiple times, he won't let anything go wrong!

- Until it rains.

- You remembered being under one of the tents as it started to pour down. You just sighed and looked at your boyfriend. Yet he seemed pissed. He was biting his lip, staring at the ground and having issues with calming himself. 

- You take his hand and laugh. For a second, he doesn't notice. Until you slip his jacket off his shoulders and pull it onto your head, covering yourself from the rain.

- Ness then notices, he seems confused until you speak again. "Oh my! Thank you Alexis for giving me your jacket."

- He pauses, softening his bite as his eyes light up. "Of course!" He adjusts it, holding it on your head and wrapped his upper body around you. "Let's make a run for it to our car, alright?"

- And minutes later, Ness is running and getting soaked while you're comfortable underneath his jacket. "Thank you..." 

- "For what?"

- "For saving my perfect date." He smiled and pressed a kiss onto your forehead.

[rarastmblr]

“I'll wait. I'll always wait.”

#Pairing? Teru Minamoto x FEM!Reader

#Sypnosis. Your boyfriend finds out you've been keeping a secret from him, how does he react?

#Tags. The overused trope of three (in this case, two) of the boy's fangirls bullying his girlfriend lmao, Akane Aoi and Aoi Akane is here‼️

—This post was requested by anon. Thank you for requesting! 💕 I don't think this is exactly how you wanted Teru to find out, so I apologize for that! 😅

When you had confessed to Teru you thought you would be rejected too, just like the girls who had poured their hearts out when they wrote their love letters for him.

You expected to have your heart broken as you prepared for the words that would shatter your heart as if it was just a fragile plate.

Getting rejected by the handsome prince isn't the worst that you expect; it was the sheer embarrassment that you'd have to deal with as you walk down the halls of the school.

You could only wonder what had happened to the girls that had gotten rejected by him, were they able to quickly move on?

Unfortunately, unlike them, you surely aren't someone who is able to handle rejection lightly, especially if it's from him.

But— Thank the heavens! The result was much more fruitful than you thought it would be. Pushing the negative thoughts of what people would think aside, Teru accepted your confession.

The both of you had agreed to keep the relationship on the low because Teru had many fangirls— and you know what would possibly happen if they found out.

Teru is worried about what would happen to you. Some girls are driven by love to the point they take it too far if they heard news about their crush having a significant other.

That's what led to this — apparently, a certain someone found out about your relationship between Teru and spread the news to the girls, particularly the ones who were known to be obsessed over him.

“Are you seriously Minamoto-senpai's girlfriend?” Kyoko doubted, right after hitting you multiple times earlier along with her best friend Mayu.

“Oh gosh, he must've been out of his mind!” Mayu snorted. No, their parents must've been out of their minds for giving them names that contradicted their personalities. Though, you suppose it wasn't their parents fault their daughters grew up to be bitches a pain in the neck.

“Minamoto-senpai is too good for you, y'know? He's like a prince charming and you..” Right after finishing her sentence, Mayu grimaced: showing a face of disgust. “Don't let the rumours get into your head..”

Well, that's true.. No. You weren't going to be gullible with all the stanky comments Mayu and Kyoko were throwing at you. But it still does bring some tears into your eyes — not enough for them to roll down your face though.

Oh come on, Teru had just comforted you over your insecurities 2 days ago and just plain words from two girls were already melting down the wall of confidence that Teru built up.

“Augh, come on.. is the crybaby gonna cry again? This is just a routine now” Kyoko sneered, annoyed at the routine she herself made. If she thought bullying you was such a chore then why doesn't she just stop? She might as well just be sadistic.

Crybaby. That was the nickname they gave you when they started this mess; ever since they noticed that you were awfully close with Teru. Way before you and him started dating.

You stood up. Well, at least tried to. The bruises Kyoko and Mayu left on your legs didn't really do you any good. Mayu had already beat you into pushing you against the wall before you could stand up.

Just as the two girls were gonna start berrating you again, a cough was heard from behind. The two turned around to see the one and only Akane Aoi. The two froze in fright, wondering what she was going to do.

Her petite figure walked up to the three of you, her indigo hair tied up into two circle sections behind her head as usual. Aoi stared at you with an expression Kyoko and Mayu couldn't read.

Kyoko and Mayu's next move proved that they were idiots. “Akane-san! The princess of the school! Wanna join us over here?” Kyoko suggested, earning a confused look from the indigo-haired girl.

“This little minx sitting on the dirty floor over here is supposedly dating the one and only Teru Minamoto. Could you believe how absurd that rumour is!? Especially since you and Minamoto-kun dated before..” Mayu babbled. Where did she get that information from? As far as you knew, Teru and Aoi never felt any romantic feelings towards each other. Akane would fume at the thought of that.

“What are you talking about?” Aoi looked like she was gonna burst at any moment, well, at least she looked like she was in your perspective. Because of Kyoko and Mayu not being one of Aoi's close friends, the two bullies in front of you wouldn't be able to relate with you being able to read Aoi and her expressions.

“I heard—” “Whatever you're gonna babble next, just shut up. This bathroom is already reeking because of the stank you and Kyoko are emitting. It'd stink more if you open your mouth again.” Aoi shut Mayu up, already fed up with the two girls in front of her.

“It's best you leave (name)-chan alone, unless you want this audio tape sent to the supreme student council office, where Minamoto-senpai would hear it.”

Hearing Teru's name and seeing Aoi shoving a videotape into their faces — repeating everything they said to you, the two girls quickly dashed out of the area.

It was just you and Aoi now. You stared at her as if she hung up the stars, bowing and thanking her profusely again and again for saving you from them. Aoi only crouched down and helped you to stand up. She then put your arm around her shoulder, guiding you as you two walk together towards the nurse's office.

The nurse's office wasn't far. Lucky day for you. It wasn't like you were dreading the time you were walking with Aoi anyway, while you were walking earlier, she had wiped off your tears and helped bring back a smile on your face. She joked about how the two girls didn't have any room to talk to you even — they literally are in the lowest ranks in the class when it comes to intelligence, while you and Aoi are in the top 10.

The nurse was generous (she always is) to have you excused to any of last the classes you had, and with Aoi's help, the teacher agreed to just sign you as ‘excused’.

When it was time to go home, the bruises on your legs have already healed a lot more than you expected. You thanked the nurse and grabbed your back (that Aoi dropped off earlier) so that you can head back home.

Unexpectedly, Aoi was there just as you opened the door of the nurse's office to leave. She said that she'd walk with you on the way home, as the both of your houses were close to each other.

“Where's Nene-chan?” You asked her.

“Hmm.. I don't know either. She's been spending a lot of time in the bathroom lately, do you think my story about Hanako-san took a toll on her?” Aoi responded. The thought of a ghost in the girl's bathroom sent chills down your spine — At least Hanako-san is a girl though, well, rumoured to be.

“AO-CHAN~!!” Ah, you knew that voice. Turning around in sync with Aoi, Akane walked up to you guys with a smile on his face. Though you felt like you were third wheeling..

A conversation started with Akane and Aoi as the three of you were walking. Akane invited himself to walk the both of you home (by both he definitely just meant Aoi, you didn't really care though).

Aoi didn't see a way to escape from this, the three of your houses were close and there wasn't an excuse she could make up except for “We're gonna have a girl's night. Only girls are allowed” and Akane would just unknowingly counter her by saying “I'm only walking with you until you arrive at your house, it'll be fine!”

The walk back home ended with Akane trying to have a long conversation with Aoi, only for it to be a short conversation. He'd try over and over again while you are just there; observing the two of them. Sometimes you'd often see Aoi's eyes light up more than they usually do, so you didn't bother to include yourself into their conversations.

Though, you really did want to ask what Aoi was going to be doing tomorrow. Tomorrow's Saturday after all, meaning no school to stress about.

*Audio file sent* ...What the hell?

Teru didn't know what to say or feel at the moment. He was just cooking for his siblings earlier right now and they are eating joyfully like a happy family. (Cue Kou excusing himself to go to the bathroom to barf)

A single audio file ruined his evening — even worse that what happened in the audio file had something to do with his girlfriend.

He messaged you, not to ask if the audio was real, he already had enough evidence. But to ask you if you were okay. You replied once he greeted you, but left him on read as soon as he typed the message: ‘Akane and Akane-san informed me about what happened to you today. Can we talk about it? Please?’ He spammed you with messages. He was worried.

After a while, his messages were left on sent. ‘..I'll be visiting you tomorrow.’ That was his last messaged before Teru had turned off his phone. As he looked up, expecting to see Kou and Tiara, he realized he was sthe only one sitting in the dinner table. Where did they go?

You were nervous. It was the crack of dawn and you checked to see Teru's messages again, only to be left frightened because of the news that he'll be visiting you.

No. It wasn't like your parents had any issues with your boyfriend or anything, they loved him. What you were nervous about was the inevitable conversation that is going to happen today.

You weren't very much of a productive person during the weekdays, so you opted to take a bath later instead of right now in the early morning. Not like Teru would mind anyway.

It wasn't long before 7:47 AM, exactly the time Teru arrived at the doorstep of your home. Your mom, though surprised that your boyfriend unexpectedly visited so early, welcomed him warmly.

Before your mom could lead him to the living room so he could sit down while she goes to your room to call for you, he already saw you taking a sneak peak of him from the stairs. Immediately, as if in a emergency, Teru excused himself and hurriedly walked upstairs to your room almost tripping halfway.

“..Young love~” You mother sighed in happiness for her daughter.

“I don't know, it kind of looks like they're gonna break up.” Your father broke your mom from her dream of you getting married to Teru.

“Don't say that!” She hissed at him, grabbing her slipper—

“Please let me in sweetheart,” Teru begged in a soft tone, not wanting to overwhelm you with everything that was happening.

You cracked the door open slightly. You saw him smile reassuringly. You then opened it enough for Teru to walk in, as Teru is finally inside he waited for you to close your door. He knew you liked it best when conversations between you and him were in private.

“You could've just called.. you didn't have to come here.” You told him, only to be countered by his next words.

“I knew you wouldn't reply anyway when you hear my voice from the phone.” Teru responded, only to get a playful hit from you.

“So..” The room was silent as you locked your door for privacy, fearing that one of you're parents would possibly walk in.

“How long has this bullying been going on for?” Teru asked as he walked closer to you, holding your hand in his and rubbing his thumb across your knuckles.

“..Way before you and I started dating.” You answered truthfully, it was better to speed up this conversation than to slower it down and tell lies.

At that, Teru froze. “Why didn't you tell me?” Almost immediately, Teru used his other hand (the one not holding yours) to wipe away the tears that were starting to brim in your eyes.

Teru knew you like he knew his own mind. He knew that you were getting overwhelmed and we're crying because of it. He could almost predict every move that you were gonna do.

Teru smiled at you softly, then gently held the back of your head. Sobs that came out of your mouth turned muffled as he gently pushed your face into his t-shirt. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling a sense of comfort.

“If you don't want to talk about it now, then that's okay. There's no use dwelling on the past.” Teru muttered as he kissed the top of your head. “I'll deal with those girls at school. You won't have anything to worry about.”

Teru continues to comfort you through your muffled sobs, you hear a series of “shh” and words of encouragement throughout the whole ordeal.

Teru tilted your head up to meat his eyes and wiped away any tears still on your face. Also, he used his shirt to wipe of your snot too — much to your embarrassment.

After that he peppered your face with kisses, resulting into the two of you cuddling in your bed the rest of the morning. But your mom called the two of you down stairs when she noticed you haven't eaten breakfast yet.

The rest of the day ended with Teru hanging out with you and your family. Teru invited you to go on a date tomorrow — his treat ofcourse (nothing changed, he was always the one who pays). Tiara decided to come along that day, not that you minded.

Sunday passed, and the walk to school with Aoi was peaceful if you just ignore Akane in the background. The bruises have healed, thanks to your mom and Teru. Dad was the one stressing over the many things he had to buy from the store and pharmacy.

“You look better now. Guessing the talk between you and Minamoto-senpai went well?” Aoi asked as the two of you were at the school gate. Akane got called by the other student council's to hurry up because of an urgent early meeting.

“It went very well.” I answered, giving her a thankful smile. “Thanks again, for protecting me that day..”

“No need.” The two of you walked towards the classroom. “Oh! Nene-chan is finally here!” Aoi chimed, delighted to see her friend. Her absence in classes made her seem like she went missing.

You followed Aoi as she went to converse with Nene. You also gave out some opinions and thoughts about the topic the three of you were conversing about, but only like once or six times since you really didn't know a lot about supernaturals.

The teacher finally arrived, students immediately went to go sit down on their seats. Akane was still busy with the student council meeting you suppose. But what was weird is Kyoko and Mayu not being there chattering, judging everyone in their field of view as if they had any room to talk.

[astonmartinii]

hi, i was wondering if you could do one of y/n dating carlos but people start realizing she flirting with charles in the comments, at the beginning in a very discreet way, but after a while she and carlos break up and when the new season starts she’s with charles

all is fair in love and war | charles leclerc instagram au

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

y/n is happy in her relationship with carlos but all that time in the ferrari garage might have her eye wandering

(obvs no intentions to demonise anyone, this is a work of fiction and purely for entertainment purposes)

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 55,607 others

tagged: yourbff1, yourbff2

yourusername: no one i'd rather play mermaids with than you two xx

view all 9,231 comments

yourbff1 always the best time with you guys <3

yourbff2 platonic soulmates for real

carlossainz55 my pretty lady

yourusername thank you baby

charles_leclerc i thought i was your baby ?

yourusername just cause you act like a baby doesn't make you mine x

user5 what is going on here lol

user12 not them flirting under her own boyfriend's comment i can't

user34 god i wish i was her

carlossainz55

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 112,309 others

carlossainz55: let's go spa - the second half of the season is a go!

view all 13,405 comments

scuderiaferrari let's go smooth operator

yourusername good luck baby

charles_leclerc where's my good luck

yourusername i'm literally sat with you right now

user33 the hair routine is a need not a want

user19 charles and y/n once again flirting in the comments - am i the only one who finds it weird?

uer13 i mean a bit? but also like the comments are clearly jokes

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 452,091 others

charles_leclerc: monza ready 🇮🇹

view all 14,562 comments

pierregasly you clean up well calmar

yourusername part time driver, full time model

charles_leclerc you'd know all about being a model

user48 i know there's weird vibes with carlos and y/n but like as far as we know they're still together so ^^^ that is still weird

user20 call me a bad person but i want charles and y/n to get togetehr

user1 no cause their vibes have always seemed much more suited than hers and carlos

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbff1 and 60,076 others

yourusername: the only man i'll ever need is mauricio (even if his hair has ruined 50% of my wardrobe)

view all 11,066 comments

user47 this caption... something is off

user60 carlos hasn't liked either and he just posted on his story so he's been active on the app

charles_leclerc but does mauricio have a boat?

yourusername you got him there

user8 okay but like at this point does she just come with the ferrari seat?

user3 tbf i wish i could be with both carlos and charles

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 223,098 others

carlossainz55: time well spent with family ❤️

view all 15,203 comments

user44 okay i'm going full conspiracy mode, but y/n has always visited carlos' family with him and the fact she's not been seen at a race since she was left at the airport... i think they've broken up

user11 noooo they were my faves but i think you might be right :(

scuderiaferrari can't wait to see them back in the garage

landonorris where was my invite?

user2 y/n rn^

f1wagsupdates

liked by user1, user2 and 220 others

tagged: yourusername, charles_leclerc

f1wagsupdates: charles and y/n y/ln seen together in abu dhabi - this comes just weeks after her and carlos' break up... do we think that all those flirty comments mean they did actually cheat?

view all 13 comments

user35 they defo cheated but it's also charles so like i'd also be tempted

yourusername people can just be friends you know

user45 so true !! also like carlos has already been spotted with a new girl multiple times all the way back to when he left her at the airport, but for some reason he's the victim ???

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbff1 and 61,207 others

tagged: yourbff1

yourusername: despite popular belief i am a single woman

view all 10,455 comments

charles_leclerc doesn't have to be for long

pierregasly man, you're playing a dangerous game

yourusername maybe we like a bit of danger

user32 yep i'm officially on the charles and y/n train

user10 i know we've said they're probably just joking but i genuinely hope they get together, they seem like they're good for each other

carlossainz55

liked by scuderiaferrari, landonorris and 429,561 others

carlossainz55: no better way to do winter break

view all 14,034 comments

user13 they're so so cute

user55 omg maybe carlos might actually have a girlfriend who doesn't constantly flirt with his teammate

user30 the way that she's still be demonised for harmless comments when he was seen with isa way before carlos and y/n broke up and got with her officially within a week of the breakup

comments have been limited on this post

yourusername added to their story

[caption: pasta day is my favourite day]

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 709,822 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: all is fair in love and war

view all 94,034 comments

user56 HOLY SHIT

user21 AHHHHHHHHHHHH

yourusername i'd fight this war all over again to end up with you

user48 I KNEW THEY WOULD BE CUTE

user88 okay now i don't feel so bad for rooting for them

f1wagsupdates

liked by user5, user9 and 330 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, yourusername

f1wagsupdates: though controversial in the way it came about, i for one love this relationship - what do you guys think?

view all 14 comments

user11 carlos did this and way sooner so i am defo a fan of this relationship

user49 they slay i don't care what anyone says

user2 i love it and she's a smart queen cause she doesn't even need to buy any more new merchandise

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 98,134 others

yourusername: made the super long journey to the garage next door

view all 17,560 comments

user31 she's so so pretty

charles_leclerc thank you for making such selfless sacrifices

yourusername good thing you're worth it

user41 i need to meet her

user10 the shady hand covering the other one

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 1,023,671 others

tagged: yourusername, scuderiaferrari

view all 21,067 comments

user46 SLAY CHARLES

yourusername pretty boy with a pretty trophy - i'm so so proud of you xx

charles_leclerc you're much prettier than my trophy baby

user90 parents

carlossainz55 happy for both of you

charles_leclerc thanks bro

yourusername it was unorthodox but we're both happy now and that's all that matters

note" hope you enjoyed, this ended up so much longer than expected but i had a lot of fun writing this !! my asks are still open for any other requests xx

[groovyfrog420]

SV Redeemed AU

INTRODUCTION / DISCLAIMER

First things first, these designs for Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla are FAR into the future. Quite literally end game phase of the story, the “they grow old together and live happily ever after”. There's a long way to get there, and while I will write some of my thoughts about their journey, I'm a shitty writer. There's no single thought-out plot, it's just bits and pieces of my thoughts in one place. 

I don't think I'd be making a tag or naming this AU anything specific. I'm still calling it an AU because there is a bit of canon divergence, but I don’t have a start-to-finish story. (EDIT: wellp that lasted long. new name is #False-Truth AU because I like the oxymoron. I still don't think I'll do much - maybe a few short comics, which you'll be able to find under that tag on my profile)

Keep in mind that these are just my own interpretations, if you imagine these cookies acting differently, that's ok! This is just my own made-up alternate version

LONG POST UNDER THE CUT - don't say I didn't warn ya

I’ve tried to divide it into sections, so if you are looking for just smth specific / only care about one of the characters, you can skip right to it!

Prepare for the ramblings. 

PURE VANILLA'S DESIGN 

more relaxed now - doesn’t need to keep up perfect appearances and the image of a hero, so he can lay back a bit more. (messier, less perfectly styled hair - more like his younger years. comfier clothes.) 

focusing on herbology - with less power now (why explained below) and trying to not overwork himself, he’s taken to different healing methods, as well as taking on gardening as a hobby

slightly more open eyes - (heavily elaborated on bellow) 

different staff - due to being able to use his own eyes more now, as well as staying more on the low, he’d decided to retire the famous staff. Since it’s a flower, it was planted somewhere and allowed to blossom and grow freely - fitting symbolism for a new beginning, I think. The lantern light glowing blue makes it easier on his eyes.

PV STORY BITS 

In this AU Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla retire together. I think PV would still like to teach, but would focus more on the medical and practical side of things, like herbs and healing practices. (He’ll leave telling tales about the past  to Shadow Milk, though he might throw in his own comments from time to time…) He mostly offers advice and shares every-day methods for protection of different kinds with those who ask, but may take on an apprentice or few to fully pass down his healing knowledge to. He uses magic sparingly now. 

This way with not focusing on a variety of subjects and many, many students, he’s able to rest more and doesn’t have to split himself between multiple worries. He can focus properly and give his students more individual attention, to make sure his knowledge will be retained for the future. 

Eyes

(don't jump me pls read the footnote) 

I've decided to take the closed/covered eyes motif PV has in a bit more symbolic way *. I want to interpret it as PV being blind (=ignorant) to the world around him, choosing to see the world and his own actions in an idealized light, and to look away from anything that doesn't fit that idea. Light sensitivity would be very ironic yet fitting - since his own powers are very light-based, by using them to help others he’d be blindinding/hurting himself in the process... 

Over time, he realizes how futile it is. Even if he turns his eyes away from the wrongdoing in the world, from his own mistakes and imperfections, they will still continue to happen. He begins to understand that he has to accept that neither he nor the world is perfect, to stop wallowing over the past and start fixing the present. To keep moving forward and keep working on himself, not hide his imperfections under literal and figurative wraps. 

With the help of Shadow Milk, he begins to open his eyes more and more and accept the real truth, no matter how imperfect it is. 

*I’m not sure how confirmed it was in canon that he’s blind (from what I’ve seen it was mostly implied, but still). I'm not erasing that - for the sake of this AU, I'd like to say that he has partial issues with sight (including the mentioned light sensitivity), but now he learns to accommodate them rather than ignore them and hurt himself more for the sake of others. No, he doesn't magically gain full sight now, but he's more comfortable, healthier, and more honest about the world around him with all of its imperfections. 

Burnout

I believe SM and PV complete each other so perfectly because they can help each other grow in areas where the other is lacking/struggling. With PV, I’d like to focus on burnout, false ideas, and how the pressure he’s constantly under has affected him. He was very much just a normal guy before receiving his Soul Jam. Years beyond a normal cookie’s lifespan of hard work and trying to be the perfect leader, to always ensure the happiness of all his people (whether that be as king or otherwise) are bound to take a toll on anyone. Obviously he'd never admit that, always putting everyone else before his own needs, and he’d likely run himself into the grave. That's where I think Shadow Milk would be helpful - he’d make him realize how unsustainable what he’s doing really is. He wasn’t built for handling immense power for all of eternity, he’s just a single cookie and whether he likes it or not, he can’t save everyone or make every single one of his people happy... Being selfish isn’t entirely wrong, sometimes might even be necessary. 

Onto the idea of false truth - Pure Vanilla has a very idealized view of a lot of things and people. He’s trying to see everyone in the best light, but he also holds a high standard for himself - that he must be the ideal, shining and caring hero and a beacon of perfection . Shadow Milk is likely to pick that image apart - probably not in the kindest way, saying that in trying to be perfectly selfless, PV is putting himself on the pedestal above everyone else while still being just a single cookie with limited capabilities. He’d likely call this image egoistical, and while PV would argue that he’s doing it for the good of others (he is helping after all, right?), Shadow Milk wouldn’t be entirely wrong - this way of thinking, that he’s the one who must take care of everyone else, is harmful for both him and the ones he’s trying to protect. 

Shadow Milk would show him that truth is relative, that “pure truth” doesn’t exist, for anyone could interpret it differently. That PV isn’t (and doesn't have to be) the perfect blameless hero. That his people aren’t as good or pure as he’d like to give them credit for, but neither are they helpless. 

Shadow Milk metaphorically and literally helps him open his eyes - he slowly learns to lay back, to accept the reality and “truth”, whatever it may be, and is no longer blinding and burning himself out by trying to help everyone at once. With a new mindset and outlook of the world, he can allow himself to retire, and leave a calmer, out-of-the-spotlight life. 

Retirement

Ok, controversial idea, but I think the ancients will have to one day retire and pass down their SoulJams. Yes, I played Cookie Odyssey, I know how important it is to them, but hear me out. As I said above (which is shown in the game btw, but correct me if I'm wrong), they were just normal cookies before taking on the roles of the Ancient Heros. Cookies with high achievements, yes, but still. They aren’t The Beasts, baked specifically for the purpose of handling the Soul Jams, and even then, The Beasts weren’t perfect. I’m not saying they’re bound to get corrupted like their predecessors did, but I am saying that this role is bound to take a toll on them. Not even just from the perspective of power, even just handling so many responsibilities with running their kingdoms is going to be extremely draining mentally. (Physically likely too, even if they’re said to stay “always young” thanks to the Soul Jams - many stories teach that you can’t mess with nature and that nothing lasts forever...)

I don’t know who they’d pass the Soul Jams along too - whether that’d be Gingerbrave and his friends, or a new batch of heroes, that is to be decided. The point is, they have served their purpose, they have (from the perspective of this AU) defeated Dark Enchantress, and deserve to now leave the rest of  their lives in peace.

SHADOW MILK'S DESIGN 

“mellowed out” a bit - continues to be eccentric and dramatic, but less manic

still unsettling - most level-headed cookies upon meeting him immediately get a feeling that there's something.. off about him, even if they can't put their finger on it. (I purposefully left some of his corrupted design elements or callbacks to them, like the marking over his eye, for that reason) 

vibrant, colorful, very extra in both behavior and looks, everything he does he does with drama and flourish 

quiets down when out of the eyes of the public, or alone with Pure Vanilla 

peacock elements - fitting for someone with such a vibrant personality. also the eye connection is perfect - if you look closely at the feather he's wearing, you might even notice a familiar symbol in its “eye”

a playful bard - (elaborated heavily bellow) - an identity allows him to enjoy his favorite activities, while also being a slight callback to his academic past 

SM STORY BITS

The bard 

While spending more time with Pure Vanilla, PV encouraged him to pursue his creative interests. Partly to have smth to get SM’s mind off of causing chaos, and partly because they let him indulge and express himself without causing any serious damage. Now he’s joined PV in retirement, though still not fully stepping down from the stage.

Being a bard allows Shadow Milk to indulge in everything he likes most: being the center of attention, dramatics, theatrics, mischief, a tasteful dose of lies and half-truths, but also, in a way, calling back to his past self: for while a lot of his stories are made-up tales, he can also share the history of Earthbread that he’s witnessed. Yes, he may do so through over-dramatic performances or behind caricatural characters, but every tale holds a grain of truth, does it not? Whether his audience chooses to believe him or not is their choice to make.

Referencing the fact that a big part of human history survived through word of mouth, and how storytellers play an important role in preserving it, I think it’s only fitting to make him a bard.

About visual choices

I made his redeemed design less chaotic and asymmetrical, but still vibrant and based mostly on his current color palette, rather than the one from Blueberry Academy. That's because while he may be rediscovering his interests from the past, he’s not the person he was before corruption and never will be again. Instead, he too is learning to rediscover the world in a new light, with a new identity. 

Visually I’ve tried to keep some elements from his current design, if slightly toned down: a wide collar, puffy sleeves, a flowy cape. Elements of his corruption are also still there: different colored sclera (= his one eye being black), the sharp teeth. He may have settled down and calmed down slightly, but he remains as playful as ever :)) 

He still causes local chaos once in a while or resorts to pranking unsuspecting cookies nearby (the slight charring at the bottom of PV’s robe is a result of one of such pranks getting out of hand), and PV has accepted that he'll never be a calm, put-together cookie he once might have been. However, SM's learned to not be a danger to others for the sake of the one he cares about the most, and that's enough for the both of them. 

And that's all for now! If you've managed to get this far, thank you SO much for your patience, I hope you've enjoyed my thoughts and brainworms <3

[unpredictable-probabilities]

The Pleasures of Dreaming and Waking

Summary:

Hob spends time with Dream after a long week at work. As they chat over their usual table, they grow more comfortable in expressing their fantasies and endeavour to explore them.

Notes:

Inspired by this fic written by @delta-pavonis <3

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4,716

Square/Prompt: B3 - Somnophilia |  @dreamlingbingo

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Kissing, Neck Kissing, Making Out, Nipple Play, Smut, Eldritch Sex, Light Bondage, Consensual Somnophilia, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Orgasm Edging, Multiple Orgasms, Sweet, Sweet/Hot, Cuddling & Snuggling, Naked Cuddling, Post-Coital Cuddling, Porn Without Plot, Porn With Feelings

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59931001

———

The sounds of conversations combined with the clinking of cutlery and soft footsteps is making Hob sleepy.

He had a long week at work and only managed to catch a break now that it's Friday; he stifles a yawn behind his hand and mumbles thanks to the waiter that just brought their order to their table.

“Are you well, my love? You seem exhausted.” A frown creases Dream’s forehead, and Hob still marvels at how Dream is more comfortable with expressing his emotions now, especially since they started dating three months ago; a fact that Hob still has trouble believing if he thinks about it too hard.

Hob nods and straightens up in his seat, trying to blink the fatigue out of his eyes. “I'm alright, love, don't worry. Just pretty knackered with finals week coming up. Been up late catching up on grading papers and all that.”

“You should have informed me sooner. We could always meet in my realm while your physical body rests.”

“Yeah, but I'm quite fond of this place,” Hob admits. “This table is where I was sitting when you first came back. I like talking with you here.”

“You are stubbornly sentimental,” Dream chides, though there's an unmistakable smile on his lips.

“You love it,” Hob says pointedly, taking some chips from the basket.

Dream makes a sound that might have been a chuckle. “Very well. What woes did you experience in the world of academia today? I have heard it is part of unwinding to talk about how one’s day has gone.”

“You learned that in one of those relationship books you read in your library?” He walked in on Dream reading that sort of book once in the Dreaming during their first month of dating. Dream vanished the book in an instant when he saw Hob, but Hob had been so endeared that he had pushed Dream against the shelf and kissed him senseless.

“Perhaps.” Dream drinks from his mug of hot chocolate to hide his face, but not before Hob sees the subtle pink on his cheeks.

Hob grins and reaches for Dream’s hand resting on the table, fiddling idly with the cuff of his sleeve. “Nothing remarkable happened, at this point even the students were just waiting for the weekend so classes were rather quiet. Then afterwards I went with some of my colleagues to that pub near the university, and we just traded mindless gossip to purge our brains of essays and staff meetings.”

Dream turns his hand so his palm is facing up, and he brushes his thumb back and forth on Hob's wrist as he speaks. “I am sure the other patrons enjoyed hearing gossip from academics.”

“I'm not so sure I did, honestly. My mate Nick runs his mouth after a few pints, and I didn't need to hear that he had a wet dream about our colleague from the Arts department. Does that fall under your jurisdiction, by the way? You just know whenever someone's fantasising in their dream?” Hob has already asked a lot of questions about Dream and his function, which Dream always answers with some degree of amusement, but Hob still feels like there's so much more to learn.

“I am able to see into someone's dreams should I wish, but unless a nightmare is crossing a line in troubling them or other similar concerns, I have no obligation nor desire to do so. And any fantasies they might have are created by their own minds.” Dream pauses and tilts his head slightly to the side. “Do you wish for us to do the same? To share such intimacies in my realm?”

Hob feels his face warm and he chuckles. He still gets caught off-guard by how direct Dream can be nowadays. “I thought you said you can't read minds?”

“I can sense daydreams. And yours are often loud.” The corner of his lips tilts up in a smirk.

“Well, can you blame me? People dream about that kind of stuff all the time, but for you and me, it would be real. It would actually be you.”

Dream’s smile disappears and he seems to hesitate, his face becoming guarded.

“Hey,” Hob says gently, stroking Dream’s arm with his fingers. “We don't have to, okay? All the sex we have here in the Waking is already perfectly amazing.”

“Crude.” Dream's eyes twinkle in amusement and he seems to relax. He pauses for a moment before continuing. “You have seen my form in my realm. How… different. I look.”

Hob raises an eyebrow. “You mean being paler and taller than an average human and having galaxies for eyes? And wearing that sinful robe that would be considered indecent in the streets of London?”

Dream lowers his gaze and is obviously trying to suppress a smile. “I am trying to be serious, Hob.”

“Oh I'm perfectly serious. I'm surprised you didn't sense my daydreams whenever we walked around your realm with you wearing that thing.”

“I… did. But.” Dream trails off, his fingers tapping restlessly on the inside of Hob’s arm.

“What's wrong?” Hob rarely sees Dream be so hesitant.

“I am… afraid. To hurt you, in my realm. If we engage in physical intimacy.”

Hob’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “Hurt me? You could never hurt me, love.”

“I might.” Dream’s voice sounds strained with worry. “In my realm I am… more. In the throes of passion I might lose control of my humanoid form.” He looks right at Hob. “You inspire such greed in me, Hob Gadling. I will have you for as long as it takes until I am sated.”

Hob swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. If Dream intends to discourage him by what he just said, he's spectacularly failing. “So exactly as we always do it, then?” he manages to say lightly.

Dream huffs out a chuckle. “You are not daunted at all.” He sounds almost impressed.

“‘Course not,” Hob says easily. “Is it something that you want, though?”

Dream nods slowly. “I have thought of it. More than once. I should like to have you in my bed, at the heart of my palace. So the very essence of our ardour seeps into each fibre of my realm, that none may doubt my affections for you.”

Hob takes a shaky breath, unable to look away from Dream. They should probably be talking about this somewhere more private, but right now the most prominent thought in Hob's mind is if Dream wants it just as much as he does then why haven't they done it yet.

“Okay, okay,” Hob says mainly to calm himself. “Since we both want the same thing, is there any way I can make you more comfortable with the idea? We can use safe words, and I bet you can sense anyway if I feel like something’s too much for me.”

“I am uncertain about that. I have never been able to sense your discomfort in any of our couplings.”

“That's because I've never felt any discomfort, love. Like I said, everything we've done has been amazing, and I think you know by now that you're not the only one who can get greedy,” Hob says cheekily.

A smile curves Dream’s lips. “That is a fair point.”

“I know. So then. Um…” Hob looks around at the pub. “D’you wanna go upstairs and talk about it?”

“You are not too tired?”

“Oh believe me, I'm more awake now than I've been all week.” Hob calls over one of the waiters and tells him that they're taking their food to go.

“Eager, beloved?” Dream raises an eyebrow playfully after the waiter leaves.

“No more than you, Your Majesty.”

Dream makes a low humming noise in his chest that might have been a purr or a growl. Either way, it's definitely a sound of approval and that's all Hob needs to practically drag Dream upstairs as soon as they get their takeout bag.

Hob takes a shower first because he's not sleeping with his boyfriend while carrying the grime of public transport, nevermind that it's the quickest shower he's ever taken in his life.

When he gets out of the bathroom wearing a fresh shirt and sweatpants, he sees Dream on his bed wearing black silk pyjamas, sitting up against a pillow and reading Lord of the Rings. The whole image is so soft that it makes Hob’s chest ache.

“I like seeing you like this,” Hob says as he sits next to Dream.

“On your bed?”

“Relaxed.” Hob kisses the tip of Dream's nose. “Do you still want to talk about it?”

Dream nods. “Do you?”

“Yeah. Thanks for waiting while I showered.”

“You were not gone long. I had not even finished the chapter I was reading.” Dream closes the book and puts it on the nightstand. “I still do not know what happens after Frodo and Sam meet Merry and Pippin.”

“Oh, should I shower for longer then so you can continue reading?”

“If you step in that shower again I should be inclined to join you.”

“Talk first,” Hob says firmly, rather proud of himself for declining such a tempting offer. Granted, he declined in favour of a much more tempting one. “How'd you feel about safe words?” he turns to his side to more comfortably face Dream, folding a knee under him.

“They could prove to be useful, yes. What words do you recommend?”

“We can use the traffic light system. Green means continue, yellow means slow down, red means stop immediately.”

Dream considers for a moment. “And you promise to use them with no hesitation?”

“Yeah,” Hob nods. “And you should too.”

Dream slowly blinks at him, looking surprised.

“You can use them too,” Hob clarifies. “You're allowed to say if you're uncomfortable, yeah?”

Dream is silent for a few moments, forehead creased in thought. Then he slowly nods. “Alright. And I should like to give you control to shape the Dreaming.”

“What?” Now it's Hob's turn to be surprised.

“My realm is tied to my temperament. I may cause a storm without meaning to. Or an earthquake. While you might not be powerful enough to stop these things entirely, you will have the ability to shape the environment to conjure whatever shelter best suits your comfort.”

The first thought in Hob's mind is how utterly sweet Dream is to even think of granting him that much power over his realm; Hob is aware that that much trust given to him is not to be taken lightly.

The second thought following closely after is that Hob wants to see just how much he can make Dream lose control while sharing his bed. He wonders if he can pleasure Dream enough for him to make actual fireworks appear.

Dream chuckles and rests his forehead against Hob’s. “Your priorities continue to fascinate me, Hob Gadling.”

“Shall I show you how fascinating I can be, then?” Hob reaches up to run his fingers along the collar of Dream's silk shirt.

Dream purrs low in his chest and holds the back of Hob’s neck to slot their lips together.

Hob groans softly and clenches his fist into the fabric of Dream's shirt, pulling him down to lie on top of him.

“I thought you wished to do this in my realm,” Dream says playfully against his lips, pupils already blown.

“Still do. Take me there then, my lord.”

There’s sand and the familiar feeling of drifting off to sleep, and then all at once Hob feels a different bed under him, smooth as satin and softer than goosefeathers.

Dream is looming over him, his black robe nearly slipping off a pale shoulder. His blue eyes flicker down to Hob’s clothes, running over them with a curious gaze.

Hob looks down and realises that he’s wearing a bottle-green robe, loosely tied at the waist and with nothing else underneath. “I owned something like this back then,” he recalls. “In the 1500s, I think. It was always comfortable.”

Dream nods in approval and noses along the line of Hob’s jaw. “Good. Here you shall have every comfort.” He sinks his teeth in the skin beneath Hob’s ear with just enough pressure to make him shiver.

“I wish I could carry your marks with me to the Waking,” Hob says breathlessly.

Dream pulls back to meet his eyes, and for a second Hob wonders if had said something wrong.

“If you truly wish it, I can extend my consciousness to my physical form currently sleeping beside yours. I will make love to you in the Waking as I do here. And you will have my marks until your body heals them away.”

Hob feels his eyes widen, his heart thumping in his chest. And once again he wonders why they’d never done this before. “Will I be able to feel what you do to my physical body? Even here?”

Dream considers it. “I can put your consciousness in the liminal space between sleeping and waking, just enough for you to feel my touch in your realm. Is this what you wish?”

“Yes,” Hob whispers, absently realising that he has his hands clenched into fists on Dream’s robe.

“Very well.”

Dream closes his eyes, and suddenly Hob feels smooth hands trail slowly up his thighs, even when Dream hasn’t moved at all. Cool fingers wrap around his cock and he gasps, hips jerking up against Dream’s thigh.

“Did you vanish my clothes?”

“I did not think you would need them.” There’s an edge to Dream’s smile, and when he opens his eyes the blue has vanished too, replaced by pools of black with brilliant stars at the center.

Hob pulls him down for a kiss, and Dream opens up immediately. Hob loses himself in the feeling of their tongues against each other and Dream’s body undulating above him. They both still have their robes on, but Hob can feel a hand slowly stroking his cock, a mouth around his nipple. He hears a whimper that might have been his but never felt it leave his throat.

“Dream,” Hob gasps, hips stuttering against Dream’s thigh. The sensations in the Waking haven’t stopped, but with most of his consciousness here in the Dreaming they all feel distant, like a vivid memory that can never live up to the real thing. “Touch me. Here.”

“As my love commands.” Dream unties Hob’s robe with one hand before pressing their lips together again.

Hob sighs against the kiss as he feels Dream’s hand caress his torso, gliding lower and kneading the flesh of his thigh. He wraps his arms around Dream’s neck, runs his fingers through soft midnight hair that seems constantly ruffled by wind despite the lack of any breeze.

The sensations in the Waking stop abruptly, and before Hob could begin to wonder why, he feels teeth sink into the inside of his thigh.

“Ah!” Hob arches his back, breaking the kiss and pulling Dream’s hair. His cock twitches and he feels the heat of Dream’s mouth wrap around him—in the Waking. Hob moans in frustration, his cock hanging heavy and neglected in the open air. “Do you even have plans to fuck me here?”

“I am marking you in the Waking. That is what you wish, is it not?” Dream rakes his nails lightly across Hob’s chest, scraping a nipple and making Hob twitch.

“Just in the Waking? What happened to being greedy?” Hob quickly bunches up Dream’s robes, thrilled to find that there’s not a stitch of clothing underneath. He grabs Dream’s bare arse and pulls him flush against his groin.

Dream throws his head back with a shaky gasp, his eyes fluttering close.

Hob pulls him down and mouths at pale clavicles, licks at Dream’s icy throat and nips at his jawline.

Dream surges down to kiss him, and at the same time Hob feels his thighs being spread open in the Waking.

Dream's tongue reaches into him from both ends, soft and slick and far longer than any human tongue should be.

Hob squirms as he feels Dream’s tongue move inside him in the Waking, feeling full and empty all at once. He grips the back of Dream's neck, ruts against his cock.

Dream makes a wounded noise and returns the enthusiasm, grinding down hard until Hob’s sure they're carving a dent into the plush cushions.

Hob feels precome on his belly, and he needs Dream inside him now but he also needs him to never stop moving.

And then Dream does stop, even his movements in the Waking.

Hob opens his eyes, mind clouded in a haze of confusion and lust. He sees Dream looking around their surroundings and blinking.

Hob begins to realise that even though they're still on the same cushions, they're no longer in Dream’s bedroom.

The ceiling made of a starry night sky is replaced with an elaborate mosaic of figures that might be deities, and the marble walls are now stained glass windows letting in colorful sunlight that dapples on the steps leading down from where he and Dream are.

Dream shifts to his side to give Hob room to sit up and look around. He realises that they're on a raised platform overlooking a great hall with long tables and tall double doors at the far end. They're the only ones here, and the vastness of the place has a solemn quiet to it.

“Where are we?” Hob’s voice echoes softly.

“You brought us here, beloved.”

“What?” Hob frowns and looks around again, paying more attention to the details.

The wall behind them is painted with doves and bells so intricately that Hob can almost hear them, and he suddenly recognises that the deities depicted on the ceiling are who the townspeople considered the gods of marriage from about six centuries ago.

“This is a wedding hall,” Hob breathes. I brought us here to shag on the altar.

Dream blinks at him slowly. “Why did you choose this place?”

“I didn't mean to,” Hob scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “I guess, um…” he feels his face warm up. He looks down and fidgets with the sheets. “I'm not proposing or anything, I don't even know what that would mean for you but… I s’pose I liked the symbolism of it. Us getting married…” He trails off and hesitantly meets Dream’s gaze again.

Dream is looking at him in bewilderment, and Hob feels panic rise in his throat, images of a rainy night and a black figure storming off flashing in his mind.

“Look, I can't control what my brain thinks,” he hurriedly says. “You can whisk us back to your room—”

Dream moves and pins him down on the cushions, claiming his lips with teeth and tongue and the intensity of the birth of a star.

Hob’s body quickly gets back with the program, whatever he was feeling before they got interrupted by the location change has come back in full force, and then some.

He grunts when he feels Dream slip a finger inside him, the sensation so vivid that it takes him a second to realise that it's happening in the Waking. Dream adds another finger, slick with the lube that Hob keeps in his nightstand drawer, or possibly dreamstuff, Hob doesn't really care. He grinds down on empty air here in the Dreaming, a moan of pleasure and need escaping him.

“You wish to be united with me in this manner?” Dream is actually breathless, and his form is starting to blur at the edges like a freshly made oil painting hanging on a lord’s wall.

He has a subtle glow about him, and Hob can believe that it's coming from the stars in his eyes that seem to burn brighter now. His dark hair ripples softly as if underwater. It's as if one of the gods from the mosaic came to life just to loom over Hob and look at him with utter adoration, as if Hob is the one worthy of worship.

“Of course I do.” Hob threads his fingers through Dream’s hair, caresses his face, his shoulders. Marvelling at how he's allowed to touch a being such as this. “I'll have you in all the ways you would allow,” he says quietly, reverently.

Dream presses their foreheads together. “Hob.” The syllable drops from his lips like a prayer and then he's kissing Hob again, their robes vanishing in an instant.

Hob cups Dream’s face in his hands, his eyes falling close as he inhales the scent of rain and ozone and fresh ink on paper.

He feels Dream's fingers pull out of him in the Waking, and his stomach clenches in anticipation.

The familiar shape of Dream's cock teases at his rim, and Hob realises with a gasp that it's here in the Dreaming. 

Dream tenderly takes his hands and pins them beside his head on the pillow, their fingers lacing together.

Hob is already slick and soft and open, and his eyes roll back in his head when Dream slips in, filling him up inch by delicious inch as Dream’s lips move down to his neck. Their fingers remain intertwined, but Hob feels soft touches up and down his body, becoming more insistent as Dream thrusts deeper into him.

Hob’s eyes flutter open to see that shadows seem to be bleeding from Dream’s form, shaping into tendrils that act as his limbs. Hob doesn't even bother to try counting them, especially not when one tendril touches his nipple, flicking and rolling the hard nub until Hob is squirming and jerking his hips up to meet Dream’s thrusts.

The teeth that scrape and nip at his neck are definitely sharper than usual, and a shiver runs down Hob’s spine, prickling his skin with goosebumps and making his toes curl.

Dream tightens his grip on Hob's hands and slowly pulls out before slamming into him in both realms.

“AH–!” Hob arches his back, or tries to, but finds that the shadow tendrils are pinning him to the bed; wrapped around his waist, his arms, holding his thighs open as Dream continues to thrust into him.

Dream's face is pressed in the crook of Hob’s neck, making growling noises that could never come from a human throat.

Hob’s weeping cock twitches from what little friction Dream’s body is giving, unable to get any more of it no matter how much he strains against the tendrils. Dream slams into his prostate and Hob cries out a sob, tears forming in his eyes.

Dream slows down and pulls back to look at him, the tendrils loosening their hold. “Colour, my love?” His voice sounds wrecked.

“Green,” Hob whines, taking advantage of his mobility to raise his hips and take Dream deeper into him. “Green— Fuck, Please…”

Dream captures his lips in a searing kiss. The tendrils wrap around Hob once more, but this time they help him move, raising his hips to meet Dream each time, faster than what Hob would have been capable of on his own.

He can feel Dream's teeth on him in the Waking while he's being fucked into his own mattress; on his chest, his jawline, his neck, oh his neck, Dream is making good on his promise to mark him, sucking bruises onto the skin and soothing them with his tongue. When that tongue moves down to his nipples, Hob feels so keyed up that he can almost feel it in the Dreaming as well.

A tendril wraps around Hob’s cock and strokes him quickly while another one teases at the slit, and it's all too much and not nearly enough. Hob doesn't quite remember how to breathe, and he tightens his grip on Dream's hands as the tendrils manhandle him to buck and rut against his lover.

The air feels charged, like the moment before a lightning strike, and Dream is panting in Hob's ear as a sudden wind whistles through the wedding hall, the light from the stained glass windows changing colours rapidly as if the sun is moving erratically outside.

Seeing Dream so affected is what hurls Hob over the edge, and he comes with a roar that might have broken the windows but he can't hear anything else above his own voice and the pleasure lighting up his spine.

Dream speaks against his ear, soft lips almost caressing. “This dream is over.”

Hob slams back into the Waking with a strangled cry, frustration crashing over him when he realises that Dream has a hand wrapped around the base of his cock, stopping his release even as Dream repeatedly fucks into him, his other hand bracing himself on the bed for leverage.

The whiplash of going from a mind-shattering orgasm to his cock heavy with wanting has Hob going half-mad.

“Dream–!” he digs his nails into Dream’s back, squirming as he tries to get free of Dream's iron grip, only succeeding in deepening the angle of Dream inside him.

“Shall I fuck you into unconsciousness, my lover?” Dream is in his human form again but his blue eyes are no less piercing. “I can take you here, and in my realm, going back and forth until you can no longer distinguish between Dreaming and Waking. Giving you endless pleasure in my realm where you will not tire, and holding back your release here until I decide that I am done with you.”

A full-body shiver runs through Hob; Dream's voice only stokes the fire already burning Hob from the inside, his words making Hob’s cock ache and twitch in desperation.

“You are mine, Hob Gadling,” Dream's hips stutter out of rhythm before speeding up. “Not to capture nor possess. But to adore and—ah—cherish. Mine to care for. Mine to love.” His eyelids flutter and his breaths are coming in pants. “Just as I am yours. To do with as you please.”

He thrusts deep and Hob cries out, his nails raking red lines across Dream's back.

A flash of concern appears on Dream's face as he looks down at him.

“Green, green!” Hob screams before Dream could even think to slow down. “Dream, my love, please…” he whimpers.

“Yes,” Dream says breathlessly, leaning down to kiss him. “Your love. Yours,” he says against Hob’s lips. He deepens the kiss as he strokes Hob’s cock in time with his thrusts.

Hob clenches his hands into Dream's hair, moaning wantonly in his mouth as his hips buck up and down of their own accord.

“With me, my love,” Dream gasps. He slams into Hob’s prostate and twists his hand.

Hob's vision goes white and he screams, his body thrashing under Dream as he spills and spills between them. He hears Dream’s guttural cry in his ear and it only flings him higher into his peak, where nothing else exists except the two of them and Dream’s spend filling him up more than he thought possible.

Their embrace tightens as they shake and tremble, listening to the sound of each other’s breaths as they begin to calm down, their chests heaving.

Dream gently slips out of him and they both groan at the sensation. “Have I fulfilled your expectations, my love?” he asks quietly, brushing away a lock of hair that had stuck to the sweat on Hob’s forehead.

Hob’s brain takes a few moments to understand the question. “Have… What…” he tries to form a coherent sentence while still catching his breath. “I only ever expect for both of us to feel good, and I think we'd been pretty vocal about that just now.”

Dream smiles, a soft thing that brightens up his face. “Indeed. And now, you must sleep,” he brushes a thumb across Hob's cheekbone. “You have been exhausted this week, and even immortal bodies need rest.”

Hob just hums. Given how his eyelids are already feeling heavy, he doesn't have much room to argue.

“Cuddle?” he manages, sleepily running his fingers through Dream's hair.

Dream leans into his touch. “Both here and in the Dreaming.”

Hob vaguely registers Dream waving his hand to clean them up, and then Dream is lying down beside him and snuggling close, tucking his head under Hob’s chin.

Hob wraps his arms around Dream, drifting off to sleep and smiling at what a lucky bastard he is.

———

(Dreamling Bingo Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

[chugging-bleach]

"EVEN IF YOU DON'T LOVE ME BACK, I LOVE YOU" - love confessions with the gintama men.

✩ ⋅ ⋅✩ ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ⋅✩ ⋅ ⋅✩ ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ⋅✩ ⋅ ⋅✩ ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ⋅ ✩ ⋅

includes. Gintoki, Hijikata, Katsura x gn!reader

summary. the way you fell head over heels for the idiot, confessed your love and where you got a confession back, much to your surprise.

tags. love confessions, fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort, being confessed back to, rejection, love at first sight, unrequited feelings

a/n. this is the first reader insert tumblr post i have attempted. if you don't want to read the rejection of the confession part it has been marked as 'alternate// rejection,' so feel free to skip it. thank you and please let me know how you like it <3 feel free to request other gintama characters! i plan to write for ayame and tsukuyo next so stay tuned for that :) i hope you have as much fun reading as i had writing this!

also shameless plug but consider checking out my <y/n> fic on AO3 about drunken shenanigans with the entire gintama gang <3 - The Baby Daddy deserves to suffer as much as the Baby Mommy to birth an abomination

SAKATA GINTOKI.

how you fall in love.

you were facing a large dilemma and had nowhere to go for a solution and are directed to the Yorozuya's doorstep

you are in denial about it but it was love at first sight, you know you have gone insane when a man guzzling down strawberry milk is attractive to you

maybe you just need to get laid

or maybe just maybe you can't look away from his neck, they way his adam's apple bobs as he gulps it down like water and how you can see his chest exposed a little with his shabby yukata

or the way he says "i'll handle it" knowing full well he won't but you can't help but trust him

your confession.

"the jobs over. you can get rid of me now."

that's the problem. you don't want to leave. you're on the back of his scooter since he offered to drop you home

after all, he caused more trouble than the job was in the first place, where your main job split off into mini jobs which you had to tackle along with the main job???

honestly, you're just happy that you spent more time with him before you had to part ways

"i didn't know you were that scared of scooters." you were gripping tightly as if you never wanted to let go of him

"your scooter might just break down. better to take you down with me"

is what you meant to say but instead you said

"i like you, Yorozuya-san. i like you a lot."

he actually falls off the scooter and both of you tumble in a heap together, thankfully uninjured apart from the pain of the intense silence that descends

you're both panting loudly and are too afraid to break the silence

"i'll...walk the rest of the way" more than him, you want to save yourself the ache

with a heavy heart you scramble to your feet, ready to wallow and drag yourself back to your house

"wait up. if you think this is going to be payment i need to correct you! you need to pay real money, tricks won't work..."

his voice falters. your eyes are clear and barely containing the emotion brimming in them.

he has to answer you

his confession.

"don't look at me like that. help me up."

you snap out of your trance and reach a hand out with your heart beating rapidly

he grasps your hand, wrapping his fingers around you. you try not to linger too much on the touch, tighten your grip and pull.

the opposite force pulls you forward and you fall to the floor and are being pulled into his lap

not pushed away not at all

"now then, there's a lot of strawberry milk you owe me for all this trouble."

that's as much as a confession as you will get from him and it's more than enough, more than you ever thought you would get. he holds you as tears stream down your face silently.

alternate// rejection.

he falters starting and stopping his sentence multiple times, struggling to find the right words.

you want to snap at him in frustration, that he just cut to the chase and be done with it

you remind yourself that this is difficult for him too

he brushes the dust from his soft, white hair that you won't even get to sink your hands into nor wind around your fingers

when he looks you in the eye, you know his answer and you know what he'll say

"i will always accept you as a prized customer, -sama!"

you give a shaky smile, hoping that the darkness of the night is enough to hide the tears falling down your face and you walk away with a taste like rotten strawberries on your lips

HIJIKATA TOSHIRO

how you fall in love.

your boss is relentless, sending you out on random errands all day, thinking of you as his personal maid more than an employee

today you're on your fifth cigarette run of the day, buying for the entire office

the usual vending machine is out-of-service so you go to the trashy one which is a long walk away

once you get there, you see the rusty exterior and sigh, thinking of how many dimes the machine will eat before actually spitting out the cigarette box

you also see a man, casually leaning on the other side of the machine smoking. a man you recognise as the demon vice captain of the shensengumi.

you freeze in your steps, scared as if you committed a crime, when in fact you are innocent

he stubs out his cigarette on the side of the machine and tosses it. it lands on your arm and you yelp in pain. he looks startled and slowly realises what happened.

"ahh, i... miss...um..."

why is the police officer scared in this situation? you speak up, clutching your slightly stinging hand "it's not a bother, officer. i was wondering if you can help me with this machine? the one i frequent is out of service and my boss needs me to buy some. how many coins will this machine eat?"

your simple request with easy instructions activates 'officer helping civilian mode' and he goes ahead and shakes the machine violently. a box of the worst brand that your boss will curse you for, Mayoboros with the mayonnaise filter falls out.

you stare at him as he hands you the box. your voice catches in your throat and you're instantly smitten. he's devilishly handsome. you notice his face has a shallow cut on it.

"here," you remove the backing from a bandage in your bag and place it on his cheek. you're on your tip toes and his breath fans your forehead. "thank you for the cigarettes, officer."

"hijikata toshiro at your service miss, your boss will appreciate those cigarettes."

your boss, in fact did not appreciate them. you tune out the yelling by recalling how close you were to him.

your confession.

you frequent this rusty vending machine even though the previous good one is back in service. you just want to see him again and again. without fail, he's always there and you wonder whether is it because he's just a nicotine fiend or because he wants to see you too

immediately you banish that thought out of your head.

you arrive again and as usual he's leaning against the side of the machine but this time he has bigger bandages covering his face, neck and body

he moves to shake the machine like he does but you stop him, stilling him by placing your hands on his shoulder. he moves away from the vending machine, quietly looking at you and waiting, a cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth.

you show him the box of cigarettes sticking out of your pocket and gulp the lump in your throat. it is now or never. you have to, need to know his answer.

"i like being around you. i like being around you a little too much." the smoke from his cigarette is fanning your face making you feel more light-headed. "i want to be around you more."

your sentences are awkward and you couldn't look him in the eye while you could feel his eyes on you the entire time.

his confession.

he takes a puff of his cigarette. you watch the smoke curl up in the air, bracing yourself for the worst. he shifts around uncomfortably, awkwardly closing the distance between you and then just as quickly moving away.

you dare to look at his face to see the calmness is gone. pink is dusting his cheeks under the bandages and the image of the cool police officer cracks. he looks so adorable trying to bid for time by smoking slower.

"i need to leave for the office soon."

hijikata was always a man of few words. he placed his hand on the top of your head and ruffled your hair gently, sighing the entire time. words were escaping him.

"would you want to get dinner with me after work?"

you expected a lot of responses but this one exceeded your expectations and was the best one

"absolutely!" you beam and he gives you a small smile in response to your big toothy grin

in another unexpected moment, he presses a kiss to the top of your head and you just melt on the spot, now it's your turn to be a blushing mess

"see you tonight"

alternate// rejection.

hijikata and you maintain eye contact. you can see he feels the same way. but something is holding him back.

he swings his shenshingumi jacket over his shoulder, never moving his gaze away from your face.

"i get into a lot of trouble. wouldn't want a pretty thing like you to worry over me."

you don't want to understand how he can reciprocate the same feelings and yet still flat out reject you. you don't want to understand his reasons.

you especially do not want to think about how this might be the last time he decides to see you since you decided to reveal your feelings. you knew the risk this carried and it blew up all over your face. a strong wave of self-hatred washes over you. if only you hadn't confessed, you would have been able to see him everyday. maybe if you confessed at a later day, things might have turned out differently.

he snaps you out of the loop, placing the jacket around your shoulders. you didn't realise you were shuddering from the weight of the situation, from the effort of reeling back the strong wave of negative emotions being set off inside you

you pull it close to you absently. hiijikata closes the gap between the two of you, lightly, barely brushing his lips against yours. before he could get carried away, he pressed a few chaste kisses on your forehead and temples

there was another reason to him ending it and you respect him enough to watch him walk away just as quickly as he had closed the distance

he left his jacket behind and sure enough there's a cigarette and lighter in the pocket. you light your first and last cigarette of the time being and wonder as you cough loudly, the smoke which is the only reason there are fat tears on your cheeks and your throat is scratchy

will you wait?

KATSURA KOTARO

how you fell in love.

someone left their kasa hat at your store so you decide to give it to the local lost and found when the owner doesn't come to pick it up from your store for over a month now

all you remember is the man rushing into the store, taking his hat off, letting long black hair down which mesmerised you, wearing a ridiculous plastic moustache disguise and pretending to peruse your goods. you were planning to kick him out despite how pretty he was since this eye candy was just being a nuisance.

before you could say anything he said "stay calm."

a bunch of dangerous street samurai swarmed your shop and you couldn't in fact "stay calm," looking at their swords, thinking of the damage they could do. this shop took a lot of money to make and keep running and you didn't want it ripped to shreds

thankfully, there were no other customers so you played dumb and said "welcome! how may i help you gentlemen?" hoping that your fear didn't show

they looked directly at the only other person in the store the "stay calm" man and you knew a fight would break out. bracing for the worst and calculating the damages bill (more scary than all these men combined), they said "that man did not have a moustache. he's managed to escape!"

you are dumbfounded that the disguise worked. once they all left, the man took the hat and 'disguise' off. "do you want to buy anything?" you ask. "no but i owe you a favour."

"then get out! don't bring trouble to my shop!”

since then, you haven't seen him and thought he would come back for his hat. on the way to the lost and found, you unexpectedly bump into him again.

this time he is wearing an afro. on top of his long hair.

"your hat, sir. you left it in my shop." he takes it from you and bows deeply, walking you back to the shop. "stay safe," you want to scream that he's the shadiest character ever but smile.

after that, you keep meeting him in random 'disguises,' which have a 100% success rate of working.

your confession.

you don't enjoy the brief meetings and clashes. you want to know more about him. "remember you said that you owe me a favour?" you say, heat rising to your cheeks.

this time, he's only wearing sunglasses and his signature hat. you have seen his posters everywhere KATSURA THE TERRORIST. well, he makes a pretty shitty runaway criminal but there must be some magic in those disguises.

"yes, in fact you can ask me two things. you gave my hat back to me."

you didn't want to bring up the fact that he should owe you more since you saved him from being found multiple times by swallowing your pride and playing the hysterical woman card

there are, more important things you want to ask him

"one should be enough. can we get ramen?"

you thought he would be dense and not understand what you were getting at, so then you would have used the second favour

his confession.

you flick the end of his hat, startling him and knocking it sideways. he totally was hiding being flustered under the hat and worrying at the edge of his lips.

"i...don't exactly know about timings. it's always random."

"i can wait, then you can pay me back again for waiting. my shop can be your home."

blush colours your cheeks as you realise what you just said. you want to spontaneously combust. you move your head, hoping your hair falls and covers you enough.

katsura moves the hair out of the way and beams at her. “i know of a good ramen place. why wait let’s go now.”

alternate// rejection.

no he didn’t get it.

he considers your offer way too seriously. he didn’t get the underlying message.

“sure. let’s go now. there’s a place around here.”

you didn’t get your answer but you might say something at some point during the ramen eating.

he stops you in front of ‘Hokuto Shinken ramen shop’ with the sign falling off. a blonde lady comes outside, throwing a pan at katsura, who promptly dodges.

“i brought a customer here! this doesn’t bode well for you!” the lady looks annoyed and you can’t blame her. it is annoying to have katsura in your shop with all sorts of people looking for him all the time.

“that doesn’t mean you bring yourself too!”

you’re glad katsura didn’t get what you were trying to say. you didn’t know there already was someone else since you barely knew anything about him. you start walking away, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest.

“wait up! forget this fool! i’m nishiki and i’ll bring you the best ramen you’ve ever had!”

“the soba is much better,” katsura said only to get hit in the head. you think about slithering away and making an excuse but instead you decide to stay.

“a bowl of ramen sounds divine.”

[loregoddess]

A continuation of my observations of the Octo2 traveler's weaknesses from here, now with fun visual diagrams! The above diagram shows each character's "base kit" (the weapons and elements they have access to w/out a secondary job) on the top row, and their weaknesses from the Dolcinaea fight on the bottom row.

Note that Agnea can't be charmed in this fight, so we don't actually know what her weaknesses are, but given that she has wind as her main element and how the elemental weaknesses tend to work (fire and ice are strong against each other, wind and lightning are strong against each other, and light and dark are strong against each other--based on the other Octo2 cast's weaknesses, and on how CotC usually handles elemental weaknesses, and using Tressa's weaknesses for reference), we can assume Agnea has at least a weakness to lightning. (CotC specifically seems to support this, since one of Agnea's passive skills gives her a buff to her lightning defense, and most characters in CotC who have access to only one element tend to get passive skills that buff their defense against their element's weakness, so I feel confident in saying Agnea should have a weakness to lightning).

As I observed in my first post, all the characters' weapon weaknesses tend to be the "opposite" of whatever their base kit weapon is (in type, i.e. long-range weapon users tend to be weak to close-range weapons and vice versa). The sort of exception to this is daggers, which get treated as both a long- and close-range weapon (the dagger attack animation has a character throwing a dagger--ranged--but it can also be used to stab someone, which we see multiple times in various cutscenes across Octo1, Octo2, and CotC). This means it's hard to figure out what sort of weapon weakness Agnea might have because she only uses a dagger as her base kit weapon.

Now I already discussed patterns in weaknesses and other observations in my first post, so I won't reiterate anything here (although I will quickly add some very astute people noted in their tags that Hikari being the only one we know for sure is weak to lightning is probably a reference to the thing with Rai Mei, which I missed initially but makes so much sense). But I wanted to take a look at who could break who in the party to see if the battle mechanics tied in with characterization, and set up the following diagrams for each character, so I could really dig into weird details.

(Under the cut bc this entire post is so very long, and there are more diagrams; ALSO SPOILERS, I do talk about a few endgame spoilers)

We'll start with Ochette who's actually capable of breaking the most other travelers at six. The only person she can't seem to hit (by herself) is Partitio, which is an interesting detail.

It makes a lot of sense that Ochette is the best at breaking other characters, given that she's a hunter (needs to be able to find critical weak points as part of her job). I've also written in the past how I think Ochette is actually one of the most emotionally intelligent characters in the group, and that she's probably way more aware of what's going on with the other travelers than she lets on--and way more in-tune with them than even they realize--but her ability to break most of them actually seems to support that as well.

I feel this gets reflected in her interactions with the other travelers, since Ochette is one of the few characters Throne and Osvald are pretty open with from the get-go, despite both being a bit closed off to the other travelers at first; the same goes for Temenos, although he tends to mask the fact that he's closed off, so it isn't as obvious at first glance.

Ochette is also the only traveler who ever comes close to finding out about Hikari's Shadow, since she can smell it "in" him. Likewise for Castti, in their second crossed paths the Shadow is able to capture and almost kill Castti, but not Ochette--Castii has a connection to the Shadow due to her exposure to Trousseau's rain (and a mental weak spot from the trauma of loosing patients in the past), and therefore is weak to the Shadow, so it seems fitting that Ochette is the one to "break" Castti free from the Shadow's trap.

As for Agnea, there is the sense that the two are opposites in their athletic abilities, given that Ochette is a very athletic and sure-footed hunter, whereas Agnea, while certainly athletic, still stumbles on occasion despite her years of work.

It also makes sense that Partitio is the only one Ochette can't break, since Partitio's name is also the only name Ochette struggles with, and she doesn't ever use his full name. Despite having a nickname for every traveler except Temenos, in battle Ochette uses their full names after they break an enemy, with the exception of Partitio. After Partitio breaks an enemy, Ochette uses the nickname she gives him ("Good hunting Pardy!") which is, if I recall correctly, unique to Paritio. His job and the entire concept of money is also baffling to Ochette, despite Partitio's best efforts to explain it to her.

It's interesting to note as well that even Ochette's two starting partners, Akala and Mahina, can each break 6 of the other travelers on their own (Akala can break everyone--assuming Agnea does have a weapon weakness we don't know about yet--but Akala can't break Hikari, who's a master of combat; Mahina can break everyone except Osvald, who's a master of magic). By the end of Ochette's story when she has the creatures of legend, she can actually break everyone (Akala + Tera and Glacis who each have elemental attacks that Hikari's weak to), and while Mahina + Tera and Glacis can't break Osvald still, if Ochette were fighting alongside them rather than just provoking with them, she herself would be able to break Osvald.

Given that Ochette is one of the best characters for breaking enemies just from a game mechanics standpoint, it's neat that this is reflected in her ability to apparently break nearly all the other travelers.

Castti can only break four of the other travelers, which is on the lower end (although not the lowest), but this seems to fit since story-wise she's a healer first, a fighter second (despite making an excellent damage-dealer).

The characters she can't break are people she treats like kids (Ochette and Agnea), and Osvald, who's one of the characters to tell Castti to take care of herself. Osvald's also arguably her peer, in that he's the oldest of the group and occasionally a parental figure to the others in some sense, the same way Castti takes on a pseudo-parental role on occasion, so she can't really "parent" him because Osvald is both literally a parent and, to some degree, figuratively the group's parent.

Likewise, all the characters she can break are characters who either get into lots of fights (Paritio and Hikari), or characters who would probably pretend they're not as hurt as they actually are when they do get hurt, or otherwise mask their pain a lot (Throne and Temenos). We see this in some of Castti's banters where she chides Partitio for getting into fights (she also tends to tease him relentlessly, and he's one of the only characters she teases), or how she worries after Throne, giving her check-ups out of the blue in one of their banters. Castti also has a banter with Temenos after the events of his Stormhail chapter where she checks in on his wellbeing, and while he sort of manages to redirect her attention away from him by complementing how well she looks after people, the fact remains that she did know he needed to be checked in on.

Castti really said none of you are getting away with not getting treated for your hurts or so help her.

Throne, surprisingly, only can only break four of the other travelers. Despite being raised and trained as a deadly assassin, the low number of travelers she can break might reflect her narrative "aversion to blood and killing". Throne is, after all, able to non-lethally knock people out as her nighttime path action, so her unwillingness, and inability, to hurt her allies does make sense for her characterization.

The people she can't break make a lot of sense--Throne's unable to sneak up on Ochette in their banters, and is always open and kind with Ochette. She and Hikari share shadowy ancestry, and he's a skilled warrior, so it might be harder for her to find and opening and get the drop on him (esp. considering how his Shadow might react to their shared blood ties to D'arqest).

Agnea's entire character arc is more or less centered around trying to inspire hope in everyone she meets, and Throne herself hopes to be free, so it'd make sense for Throne to follow after Agnea's hope rather than trying to fight against her.

The people Throne can break are interesting as well, especially since she is the most effective against Temenos, covering 3/4 of his weaknesses with her base kit. Temenos really isn't able to hide any of his weaknesses against Throne, which makes sense given their interactions and teamwork in their crossed path story arc.

She's also one of the only characters to throw Castti off a few times (i.e. the banter where Throne almost talks Castti into letter her steal stuff from Timberain's royal family bc Throne thinks Castti would look pretty in the jewelry).

Throne also has a banter with Partitio where she gets him to realize how over-trusting he can be by talking him into letting her take the check from Alrond--which she doesn't do, but she definitely exploited a few of his social weaknesses and could have stolen the check from him easily, in front of his face no less. (Although if I recall correctly, Partitio then has her hold onto the check for safekeeping anyhow, just because he trusts her that much).

Osvald is a bit of a surprise, given how few weaknesses he has and how vigilant he seems to be, but Throne is a professional and given that Osvald was unable to escape prison without Emerald's help (who also seems to be a thief, given that he uses a dagger when playable), it makes sense that Throne could potentially get the better of him. There's also the fact that she's the granddaughter of D'arqest, and Osvald has spent his life investigating the source of D'arqest's magic, the answer to which eludes him till the very end of his story.

Osvald can break five of the other travelers, which is the second-most after Ochette. This matches well with his ability to scrutinize people, and his general observant nature.

He can't break Throne, which as noted previously, may be due to how close her blood-ties are to D'arqest. Studying the Pit of D'arqest and trying to figure out what the source of his magic was is Osvald's life study, the answer to which eludes him most of the story, so it does make sense that Throne, the granddaughter of D'arqest, would also elude him (esp. considering that while Osvald does learn about the Shadow, the answer he finds to the One True Magic is entirely separate and opposite to the Shadow). Hikari has the same blood-ties, but it's strongly implied he is a much further descendant of D'arqest than Throne is, so even though Hikari literally has the Shadow living in him, he's not tied to D'arqest the same way Throne is (as she's the daughter of Vide's "perfect vessel" and was raised in hopes that she could succeed as a vessel instead, even if this ultimately fails).

Osvald also can't break Temenos, which actually does reflect their general relationship well. In one of their banters, Osvald makes a note of how much Temenos talks without ever saying what his point is, and generally seems to find Temenos's whimsical façade to be a hassle to deal with on occasion. It's funny, in a way, that Temenos is one of the few people Osvald can't seem to figure out, but also speaks to each of their personalities--Osvald is honest bordering on rudeness, and always straightforward with how he speaks, whereas Temenos keeps a great deal of his inner thoughts and feelings to himself while speaking in a roundabout way, hiding what he actually wants to say behind stories from the scriptures or lighthearted jabs.

That Osvald can break everyone else reflects his observant nature, for sure, but it's also interesting that he can break characters like Agnea and Ochette, both of whom he treats as surrogate daughters to some level or another...though perhaps the fact that he can break them reflects his parenting style, wherein he wouldn't want to hold back any important lessons, even if they were somewhat unpleasant.

As noted before, Osvald's one of the few characters who points out how reckless Castti can be with her own health, so it makes sense he'd be able to break her. Hikari makes sense, given that he's trained in martial arts rather than magical arts, so Osvald and Hikari are strong in what the other is weak in. And, Partitio is open and honest, almost to a fault, which, like how Throne can get a good read on Partitio, probably makes Partitio fairly easy for Osvald to get a read on as well.

Like Osvald, Partitio can break five of the other travelers. This, paired with his distinct lack of weaknesses, does seem to reflect the fact that, despite being sincere and a starting off untraveled, Partitio is wicked smart and very aware of what's going on around him, skills he needs to be a successful merchant.

Partitio can't break Agnea as far as we know, which seems to reflect their banter where Partitio nearly gives her his money after she explains how she raised enough money to start traveling (Angea notably has enough money for her travels, it's Paritio who needs to come up with more money, but here he is trying to give her more money anyhow).

Partitio being unable to break Temenos may have to do with Partitio truly not being able to get a good read on Temenos because of how Temenos is (re: puts up a façade, keeps his feelings to himself, etc.), but there's also the shared banter between Castti, Partitio, Temenos, and Agnea where, a bit drunk and therefore letting his guard slip a bit, we see that Temenos can be rather cynical, as he shoots down the idea of new paper plays about their travels rather quickly. This puts his personality at odds with both Partitio and Agnea, who are unfailingly optimistic (and optimistic enough they eventually convince Temenos their idea isn't that naïve).

The fact that Partitio can break the rest of the party is just testament to his astuteness and flexibility as a merchant, since he can break more stoic characters like Osvald and Throne (Partitio hits it off pretty quickly with both, not even giving Throne a hard time for her thieving habits and instead bonding over their shared love of fashion, as any merchant good at networking might do), while also finding a way past Hikari's defenses (although Hikari's usually pretty straightforward on matters not related to his Shadow, so Partitio's able to connect with him pretty easily as well). As noted earlier, Partitio is the only character Ochette cannot break without one of her partners, and his name is the only one that really trips her up.

Partitio being able to break Castti comes as a bit of a surprise, given that the majority of their banters have Castti teasing Partitio or chiding him for his reckless behavior. There is the sense that Partitio respects Castti a great deal and is still paying attention to what she does, as seen in their banter during her Timberain chapter, where Paritio reminds Castti that her ability to convince the soldiers to get the people indoors to safety was due to her hard work, and that while it's true there's more for her to do, she shouldn't undersell the worth of all that she has already managed to achieve. From this, we get the sense that teasing and chiding aside, Partitio is still keeping tabs on Castti and is clearly able to get a read on her, even if he doesn't intervene as often in her personal affairs.

Despite being the only one whose weaknesses we don't know for certain, Agnea can break five other travelers as well. This makes sense from a game mechanics standpoint, since Dolcinaea is Agnea's boss fight and Agnea can't be charmed during the fight, so she ideally has to have a chance to break whoever Dolcinaea does charm. But this also reflects well how Agnea is able to win over so many people throughout her travels, as her pursuit of hope and desire to bring joy to people never wavers and inspires others.

The only two she can't break are Partitio and Throne. Given the infamous peaches banter, it makes sense Agnea can't break Partitio, since she didn't realize he was talking about the basket of peaches she was literally holding until the very end of the banter, and by then was too flustered to stick around (Partitio is, notably, clueless to the fact that Agnea thought he was talking about some entirely different peaches).

Throne makes sense as well because she's a slightly older, and definitely more experienced, woman than Agnea. As a country girl coming to the city, Agnea is ignorant to all of the dark things a city could hold, while Throne is a city girl who grew up literally in the shadows of all the wicked things in a city. Agnea's general ignorance puts her at a slight disadvantage to Throne's knowledge, although it should be noted that Throne is also inspired by Agnea's kindness and hope, and supports Agnea rather than looking down on her ignorance and naivety.

While we can assume that Agnea can break most of the other travelers for battle mechanics purposes, and to make sure the player has a chance to retrieve the charmed character even if Agnea is the only character they have to do that, it is interesting that she can break most of the characters from a narrative standpoint.

Characters like Osvald and Castti treat Agnea like a kid (Agnea seems to be a surrogate daughter to Osvald specifically), so it could be she's able to get to both of them because they want to dote on her a bit like a parent might (although for Castti, the resident healer, the fact that Agnea can break her might be due to Agnea's habit of occassionally rushing into things that causes some vexation to Castti).

Temenos notably has a difficult time communicating with Agnea, so Agnea's ability to break him could have something to do with the fact that Temenos is never able to get his point across to Agnea in a few of their banters (i.e. when Agnea forgets that he's the inquisitor and thinks his job is that of a detective or a paper play artist, and all of Temenos's attempts to correct her fail; likewise his attempt to get Agnea to take care of herself--before helping Laila get new shoes--via a story of Aelfric goes right over Agnea's head). It's not so much that Agnea is that naïve, but rather Temenos's roundabout way of doing things seems to make it more difficult for him to communicate clearly with her.

Agnea being able to break Hikari could be explained as well by her unwavering optimism and journey for hope. Compared to Hikari's childhood, Agnea hasn't experienced the same hardships, so her belief in bringing joy and happiness to people may seem naïve at first. But Hikari's entire end-goal for Ku isn't that different, as he wishes for peace and prosperity and an end to the bloodshed and war that's plagued his country and torn asunder his family and the families of his people. So despite the fact that Agnea's coming from an entirely different set of life experiences, her desire to bring about a more hopeful, brighter future aligns with Hikari's own desire for a better future, so it makes sense then that Agnea could break through to Hikari because he believes deeply in her vision even before he meets her. (This is also somewhat reflected in Mikka and Pala's side story in the postgame, as it's Pala who's able to break through to Mikka).

Ochette's the most surprising, although Agnea is one of the first travelers to share cooked food with Ochette in one of their early banters, so in the realm of food at least Agnea knows ways to prepare it that Ochette loves (even though Castti also later cooks for Ochette but can't break her). There's also the banter in Agnea's final chapter where Ochette talks about how much she loves Gil's piano playing, and she mentions several times how much she enjoys Agnea's dances and singing, so it could be that Ochette is weak to the performing arts.

Temenos has the fewest number of travelers that he can break, making him the opposite of Ochette. Now, technically he could break every traveler with his latent ability, but without putting in the extra effort he's not able to break most of the others. This is interesting considering his entire thing is being able to get information by talking with people (the coerce nighttime path action, despite being a battle, is probably supposed to be a metaphor for the "mental battle" waged when trying to get information from someone). Despite his acuity with detective work and unravelling mysteries, he has quite the difficult time unravelling his traveling companions. It's possible that, like Castti, this actually reflects the fact that he is a healer technically (even if, in Temenos's shared banter with Castti and Partitio, Partitio suggests that Temenos's "healing" style focuses more on the spirit, rather than physical wounds the way Castti's healing does).

Who he can break are interesting choices. Throne is the least surprising, since the two are opposites while being quite alike, although Temenos notably can only hit one of Throne's weaknesses while she can hit most of his.

Meanwhile, Ochette is probably one of the least deceptive travelers, never hiding much of anything, so it could be Temenos has an easier time reading her because she's straightforward with her thoughts and feelings pretty much all the time. This might explain why Temenos can break Partitio as well, since while Partitio is capable of using his merchant's gift of rhetoric to inspire people to his cause, he is incredibly honest, straightforward, and open about himself as well, and very trusting of other people (the opposite of Temenos's innate doubt).

If we work off the idea that Temenos has an easier time reading Ochette and Partitio because of their openness, then most of the characters Temenos can't break make sense. Hikari, while not outright deceptive, never tells any of the other party members about his struggles with his Shadow (although he comes close and talks about it indirectly with Temenos and Castti in one of their banters), and therefore we can say that Hikari is somewhat secretive and very good at keeping his secrets.

Castti likewise, while she's not trying to keep secrets intentionally and also isn't deceptive, suffers amnesia and can't remember much of anything of her past at the start of her story (Temenos can't inquire about something someone doesn't know). Even after she regains her memories, it's hard to say how openly Castti would discuss her experiences or not, since we don't see them brought up in detail during her travel banters often.

Osvald doesn't keep anything secret, on purpose or accident, and is very straightforward when he speaks, but he's also taciturn and prefers not to chat, so it makes sense Temenos would have a hard time breaking him since Temenos can't learn something from someone who won't talk to him, and there's the general impression that even Osvald's body language is a bit withdrawn (I say "general impression" bc despite the limits of sprite art, Osvald doesn't move around as expressively or actively as other characters like Ochette or Angea, and even his unique Bewildering Grace dance is the most restrained of the eight).

As noted earlier Temenos also has a difficult time communicating his point to Agnea in several of their shared banters. It should be noted as well that Agnea is the youngest character in the group, and Temenos tends to be "weak" to children, with how he lets Ochette talk him into reading Acta a story because Acta is a baby, or with the children of his church teasing him for his mistakes in his paper plays (although I think his mistakes are intentional, as I explained in this post here, but Temenos does seem to have something of a soft spot for children, possibly because they tend to be more honest or possibly because he takes his duties teaching/guiding them more seriously than he lets on).

Surprisingly, despite his martial prowess, Hikari can only break four other travelers. Like we see with Throne, this could speak to his nature, as Hikari is very kindhearted and values his friends dearly, and his desire not to hurt anyone but especially the people he cares about is what allows Hikari to stave off, and eventually defeat, his Shadow. Indeed, like how Castti is a healer first, fighter second, there's the impression that Hikari--despite being a warrior--is a protector first, and a warrior second.

Hikari can't break Castti, which is interesting, because Castti was "infected" by Trousseau's poison rain and carried a bit of the Shadow around with her, it's possible Hikari couldn't break her even if he wanted due to his blood curse. Likewise Hikari can't break Throne, just as she can't break him, and with their shared blood ties to D'arqest and Vide, and I wonder how much of the Shadow being something of an offshoot, or "servant", to Vide, alongside Throne being the daughter of Vide's intended perfect vessel, potentially has to do with this.

Hikari's Shadow, and Castti and Throne's connections to it, don't explain why he can't break Agnea, but it could be that Agnea's earnest journey for hope and continual optimism even in the face of darkness is something he respects enough that he would never and could never bring himself to harm her, since he believes deeply in her vision of hope.

It's interesting then that he can break Ochette, who is canonically the character who seems to be closest to the Flame, but at the same time both are warriors of a sort, so it could be more of a friendly sparring thing. Osvald makes some sense, in that Hikari is a master of physical combat and Osvald is not, so naturally they're both weak to what the other is skilled in.

Partitio is a bit surprising, but if we take into considering that it's implied Partitio gets into fights on impulse due to being a bit hot-blooded, it does make sense that Hikari, who's always cool and calm under a fight (when he isn't staving off the Shadow) could get the upper hand on Paritio if they sparred.

Hikari being able to break Temenos makes sense in regards to his shared banter with Temenos and Throne, where the three play poker and try to needle each other into giving up, with Throne and Temenos failing to throw each other off, before Hikari ultimately gets them both to give up the game, potentially getting Temenos to cry in the process (which is an incredible feat on Hikari's part, given that Temenos is never shown or implied to cry during the events of his story despite two people he cared deeply about being murdered, and just how careful Temenos is in general with keeping up a certain façade around others).

One last thing I'd like to talk about is the number of other travelers each traveler is weak to, which I think has more to do with game mechanics than with characterization. Every character is weak to five other characters, with the exception of Throne and Partitio who are only weak to four. This is really excellent in terms of mechanics balancing, since the only reason these weaknesses exist is because characters can be charmed during the Dolcinaea fight, so it makes sense that the player should be given a fair shot to break the charmed character with whichever team setup they went into the battle with, especially so for players who go in blind.

Agnea obviously is the major exception to this, being unable to be charmed means we can at best guess at her weaknesses. Which is fitting because the player wouldn't have to worry about losing Agnea in the battle (and generally speaking, in my experience Agnea's usually able to output enough damage by this point in the game that she can retrieve the charmed character with a fully boosted attack without even needing to break them, meaning I, as the player, didn't even have to really worry about who Dolcinaea charmed in terms of strategy). In theory if she could have been charmed, I imagine she would have had 4-5 characters who could break her with their base kit, just for gameplay balancing purposes.

Aaand, that's...all I think I wanted to jot down for my continued observations. With the bonus battle updates to Octo2, I plan to put together a similar post (or two) for the Octo1 travelers, since we now have access to their weaknesses as well. I'm still not trying to make any point per se, just rambling on things I observed and how the game mechanics seem to tie in with story characterization, which I always think is a neat thing when it occurs in games. Thanks for reading if you made it this far, bc this got way longer than I was expecting!

[thatfreshi]

"Undeserving"

Hi! This was an expedited request by @mosshugs who asked that I go more into my headcanon of Astarion having ED behaviors. I want to preface this by saying I have limited experience with ED behaviors, and most of my experience and knowledge is from people I know with eating disorders, and I apologize if something I've written here doesn't feel correct for the experience.

So, BIG TW for eating disorder talk on this one.

If you'd like to have an expedited request, please check out the pinned post on my blog! (The masterlist can now be found under the tag freshimasterlist.)

When it comes to survival, it is difficult to foster nurturement, to find the strength to nourish even the smallest part of yourself. It is especially difficult for those who never had a nurturer, those who grew up without the protection of a mama bear, those who were ripped away from safety and forced into survival primarily, to find the strength to care, even if it's for themselves. While it seems like common sense, some part of you couldn’t ever fully understand the phenomena of nourishment and survival. That is, until you were faced with the conundrum head-on.

Astarion had somewhat perfected survival at this point, despite the fact that it was mostly not his choice. A more proper word choice might be endurance, the ability to persevere through torture despite your undying presence. Even now, he had endured all the way to the city, all the way to the legendary ‘Baldur’s Gate’ that you had been fighting towards for weeks. The two of you understood each other quickly, smoothly, reading each other like tea leaves. But, just like premonitions, not all of the details unfold as quickly as others. 

Your vampiric lover had been feeding on you almost every evening since you found out about his little ‘secret,’ that he didn’t quite hide as well as he thought he did. Of course, it started when you were merely aquaintances, continued on when you were friends, and then turned into something more. Now, feeding on you is a romantic ritual of sorts, a sign of trust, a moment of recluse and safety. Safety is a word that Astarion is unfamiliar with, the feeling at least. But those moments he has drank from you, he has finally started to understand what exactly it means to be safe. That is, until he suddenly stopped. 

You were waiting to face Cazador, a being who had now become one of multiple banes of your existence. Sadly, things on a wild adventure don’t necessarily schedule themselves neatly, which was making both you and Astarion jittery, anxious.

“We should rest soon you know. Plenty more villains to get around to.”

He isn’t fully listening, something you’re quite used to dealing with. 

“I know.”

He’s more exhausted these days, moreso than usual. Everyone is tired obviously, but you’re more tuned into his energy than the others.

“Have you fed recently? It’s been a while since you’ve asked me.”

“Of course. How many people have I killed just today? Plenty of blood has been going around.”

He stands in the opening of the tent, staring off into nothing while you sit on the ground.

“You and I both know you don’t stop for long enough to get enough out of any of those fools.”

“And you take me for a liar?”

Astarion’s tongue is sharp, and he finally turns to face you.

“I take you for a liar, but not usually a liar to me. Now, come, drink some.”

You’ve had plenty of banters like this, where he has been difficult with you, but the night air doesn’t sit peacefully like on those nights. He’s not staring at nothing, but at the past, the future. He doesn’t bend to your whim. 

“Really, my darling Tav, I am alright. Perhaps you should go to bed without me, I might be up for a while.”

Distant. He’s only distant when something is truly bothering him, just like he was in the beginning, just like he was when you met him on the beach.

“Astarion, why don’t you want to feed on me?”

Out of the myriad of things he doesn’t like, he doesn’t like direct confrontation from you. When it comes to safety, survival, nourishment, he likes to be elusive. He likes to hide from you, because sometimes you let him. He wasn’t allowed to hide before, when he was still living at the palace. Sometimes though, you can’t let him hide.

“Who said I don’t want to feed on you? Why, your blood is delightful! Delectable even.”

And there he goes, that slight seduction in his tone, a distraction.

“Then why haven’t you drank from me in days? Over a week at this point?”

Now comes the moment when he realizes there is no way out, that you’re onto him, that he can’t dance around it with his words any longer. He makes his way to be next to you.

“I… I’m not really sure Tav.”

A very rare occurrence, where Astarion sounds entirely clueless.

“What do you mean?”

“I, I mean I do want to. I’ve told you so many times before how much I delight at our feedings, I just-”

You give him a moment.

“I feel, wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Wrong. Like it wouldn’t be right to feed from you.”

“Aster, I’ve told you how many times that I’m okay with you feeding on me. It’s even enjoyable at times! And besides, it’s good for you, and it strengthens our bond-”

“I don’t think any of that is what this is. And I do hear you, but this… this is different. Maybe it’s because we’re so close to confronting, him.”

Both of your faces change slightly at the thought of Cazador.

“Are you nervous? Because that seems entirely natural.”

“Well, yes. Of course I’m nervous, not that I would tell anyone else that. I think this though, is perhaps a feeling of being undeserving of something.”

“Like what?”

“Freedom, love, more than rats. I have wanted to feed on you numerous times, but I find myself being held back by this feeling of being… undeserving.”

“My dear, you are entirely deserving of feeding, especially on me.”

You move to comfort him, a light touching arm.

“I suppose it doesn’t feel that way right now. You know what I was forced to drink from before: flies, rats, other vermin. And of course, when you first offered for me to feed from you, I was so incredibly taken away by a luxury I was never given. Now though, I simply wonder if I should’ve ever had that luxury at all, or if I should have that luxury even now.”

“You are deserving though.”

“I don’t think that will fix it my love. I don’t know if anything that you say can fix this.”

One of the hardest truths of love, that your words cannot always fix their wounds. That sometimes, there are things you will never be able to heal by yourself. 

“Then… how do we fix it? How do we make you feel deserving of feeding?”

He fumbles with his hands.

“Time? Patience? I don’t honestly know darling.”

You move a hand over to his wandering ones, hoping to ground him a little.

“Maybe, now that I know, we could at least try? Even just a little?”

There’s a hint of optimism in his demeanor, something you’ve seen more of over time.

“Alright then, we can try. But that’s all I can promise, an attempt.”

And so, he moves to prepare as you lie down, a much easier way to get your life’s essence taken. It’s a little more tense than usual, which makes sense following a conversation like that. There’s a moment where his teeth pierce your skin, and a piece of time where he does feed, and then there’s a sharp pull away. He seems almost nauseous when you sit back up. You cover the rip he just made on your neck with a nearby piece of cloth.

“I’m sorry, I just… I can’t tonight. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you tried. That’s all I said right, that we should try?”

You move back over to him and wipe at a tear, one made from an apology he never should’ve had to give. 

“Right. And maybe we can try again tomorrow?”

“Of course my love, of course.”

When the two of you lie down finally, there isn’t much said for the rest of the evening. You’ll never quite know exactly what he felt in that moment, what tasting your blood was like, how it made him ill and scared. One thing you do know is that you’ll be there again the next evening, and the evenings later, even if it takes a lifetime to repair that relationship with feeding from you. And maybe eventually, there won’t be that feeling of being undeserving anymore. Maybe one day, there will be nourishment instead of survival, but for now, you can try and make survival as nurturing as you can.

[dollya-robinprotector]

Giggling because I love making post with multiple character tags and then wait for the wrong face to be featured on all the tags ksksksks

This sydney looks soooo sillyyyy

Anw I just thought about my past so story time under the cut.

When I was in secondary school, I once knew a friend who was bullied.

For the context, it was a decent school, with 4 grades, each had 4 classes: A for lower-perform and naughty students, B for normal, C for better than average, and D for the Elites who will most definitely have bright future ahead. We are Asian children, study means EVERYTHING for us. Our worth are defined by how well we perform in school, how many awards we have and how good our grades are.

That friend was in class C. I was in class B. Normally we don't make friends outside of the class, but I once saw him being poured water on in the hallway, defended him and we became friends. Or something like that. Let's call him Z because I forgor his name now.

My parents didn't do well with the fact that I failed my entrance test and was stuck in normal class. They didn't have money to upgrade me to class C either, so they made me study extra hard. Back since I started going to school, I was being teased and harassed a lot too cuz I love to draw (what's the problem of kids being mean to artistic kids btw???). But since I was one of the best performers in study, I soon gained some respect and the soft bully subside. (I was terrible in math, but everything else were straight A okay??)

Z wasn't so lucky. I learned that his grades were terrible eventhough he was in class C. He stuttered a lot, always looks down when talking to people, never dare to engage in any conversation, etc... His appearance did not help, and he had some funny smell when I stood close to him. One thing though, he loved drawing too (urgh artistic kids again) and really admired my skill. The only times he would smile are when we talked about our fav anime. Looking back, I think maybe he had something to do with autism? I can't be sure though, but I know his parents spent a LOT to keep him in that better-than-average-class.

The bully was not too terrible, at least from what I saw and heard. He often got splashed by water, threw dirty rag or left-over food at, made fun of, laughed at, his belongings often went missing and be found somewhere dirty, etc... I used to went through all that too, so I helped him to somehow deal with them. Those sort of soft-physical bully were nothing scary once you got used to them. Just a little annoying. He got used to it too, I think, and we didn't mention those when we talk. I admit I might had some savior complex, and that friendship is not entirely friendly. It was more like I thought he would be helpless without me so I can't leave him alone.

And then one day when I was going home from school, Z approached me and asked if I want to go to his house. He said he has a very big greenhouse, and there were some pretty blooming flowers he wanted to show me. I never saw a greenhouse before and I love flowers, of course I said yes!

We rode our bicycles to his house. I've never been to his house before nor meet his parents. I didn't even ask my mom for permission to go but well, I was excited.

We went for a long time, and I started to realize he was leading me into the forest. I still went with him for maybe half an hour more, before I said I was tired and you didn't tell me your house would be this far. Then I look around and truly there was nothing bu trees surrounded the two of us. He looked back at me, clearly exhausted too, and said nothing. I started to realize the situation I was in: a 12 years old, in a forest, with no directions and a strange friend who I didn't really know. Yeh atm I was pretty scared.

I asked Z again where exactly is his house. He stuttered and said I don't need to worry, we would get there very soon. He said if I was too tired I can hop on his bike and he would get me there. Then he attempted to take my hand but that creeped me out so I stepped away from him. I turned my bike, ignored his calls, and just went as fast as I can toward the direction I thought would lead me out of the woods. He called out to me and began to chase after me too, but gave up after some times.

I then just rode my bike with full speed, somehow got out of the woods into a strange road I didn't know, asked around for direction and got home safe. My mom scolded me for being so damn late and I apologized. I never tell anybody, and never talk to Z ever again. He didn't bother me either. And that's the end of the story.

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Every Little Thing She Does is Magic, Chapter 1

Pairing: Platonic Steven Grant x Reader (for now)

Rating: T

Word count: ~3150

Story Summary: Steven meets a beautiful woman in the Egyptian exhibit at the British Museum...

...Too bad she's his new boss.

Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergent since Steven still works for the British Museum post-canon, No Jake Lockley, developing friendship

A/N: Welcome to the start of my first Steven Grant story! This will be multiple chapters (not exactly sure how many, although I don't expect it to get too long.)

If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this (or any of my other writing), please let me know!

Title from the song of the same name by The Police.

Steven Grant whistled cheerfully to himself as he ascended the steps of the British Museum. He had managed to successfully translate the hieroglyphic code he had been working on for the past week, gotten a full night's rest, and had even caught the early bus to work.

He checked his watch. Eh, I've got a bit before I have to clock in. Might as well pop by the Egyptian exhibit to see if they changed the placard for Mekhet yet.

He headed over to the exhibit, sighing with disappointment when he noticed that the placard was still incorrect. It's been three months. The least they could do is place a temporary sign until a new, permanent one came in.

He was just about to go put his bag in his employee locker and clock in early when a woman walked up next to him and began reading the placard on the statue.

“You know, that's actually wrong,” Steven said.

The woman glanced over at him. “Excuse me?”

Steven placed her accent as American, but couldn't pinpoint the region. Must be on holiday. He pointed at the placard. “The placard. It says that this is Menhit when it's really Mekhit.”

The woman looked at the placard, then back at the statue. “Oh, is it really?”

Steven nodded. “Menhit was actually a solar goddess, representing the brow of Ra and depicted by a reclining lioness, while Mekhit was the goddess of war, which is why she's depicted as a roaring lioness.”

The woman smiled at Steven. “Well that makes sense.”

“She was also known as the ‘Eye of Ra’,” Steven continued, encouraged by her friendliness. “It was said that the Eye left Ra and transformed itself into a lioness, after which it was hunted down and returned by Onuris, then it transformed into Menhit, which explains the similar names. And there's also Mehit, with no k or n, who was associated with the moon and was also depicted as a reclining lioness, but with three sticks behind her.”

The woman chuckled. “Imagine someone in Ancient Egypt accidentally praying to the wrong god or goddess because of a spelling error. Like, ‘oops, sorry, I meant for Mut to help me, not Nut ’.”

Steven grinned. “I've been trying to get my bosses to fix it for months now, but honestly I shouldn't be surprised. Took them ages to correct the banner depicting the Ennead. Only seven of them were on there when there were supposed to be nine.”

The woman glanced over at the banner, which now included all nine of the Ennead. “Oh, so you work here?”

Steven nodded. “Oh, er, sorry, yeah. I'm not just some nutter chatting you up in the Egyptian exhibit, I promise.”

The woman laughed. “Well either way, you're very knowledgeable about Egyptian history.”

“Oh, I love history, especially ancient Egyptian history. I find it fascinating.” Steven bit his lip. “Is it alright if I show you my favorite exhibit? It's just right over there.”

The woman nodded. “Sure.”

Steven led her over to the statue of Hathor. “This is Hathor -- Egyptian goddess of music, joy, pleasure and love.”

The woman grinned. “I see why she's your favorite. She gets all the fun stuff.”

Steven chuckled. “She was also goddess of beauty and the protector of women, and she was considered one of the most powerful of all the gods and goddesses. Early cosmetics and mirrors were left at her temples as offerings.”

The woman smiled. “She sounds pretty amazing.”

Steven nodded. “Oh, she was. In fact, it's said she--”

“Oy! Stevie!”

Steven startled at the sound of Donna's voice. “Oh, bollocks,” he muttered. ‘I'm sorry, I've got to run.”

The woman nodded. “That's quite alright. It was nice meeting you… Stevie, was it?”

Steven shook his head. “Actually, it's Steven. With a ‘v'.”

“Nice meeting you, ‘Steven-with-a-v’.”

“You too.”

Steven tried to hurry away but was accosted by Donna, who immediately began to give him an earful. “How many times do I have to tell you, don't bother the visitors!” she hissed loudly. “The new museum director's coming in today and the last thing she needs to see is employees faffing about.”

“But I’m not -- wait, new director?” Steven vaguely remembered Donna mentioning a few weeks prior that the museum board had finally hired a new director. “Who is it?”

Donna shrugged. “I dunno, some poncy American. Anyway, as I've said before, you're not a bloody tour guide. Your job is to sell overpriced rubbish to whiny little brats and their caretakers. Now, I want the gift shop fully stocked and in tip-top shape by the time the new director arrives. You should've been doing that already instead of dawdling.”

Steven glanced back at the woman, who was now studying the hieroglyphics on one of the nearby sarcophagi. “But I'm not -- I was just --”

Donna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, flirt on your own time. Not like she'd be interested in the likes of you anyway, innit?”

“But I wasn't --” Steven sighed as Donna stalked off. “Okay then, good talk.”

He trudged over to the staff lounge area, stashed his messenger bag in his locker, and clocked in before heading to the gift shop.

He cringed when he saw the state of it. Clearly no one had bothered restocking after the gaggle of families and tour groups had blown through over the weekend. This'll take me all bloody day. Luckily Mondays are usually pretty quiet.

He quickly pinned his name tag to his shirt and began to straighten and organize the various plushies and knickknacks between customers, making note of what he needed to grab more of from the storage room.

He was organizing the Seshat figurines several hours later when Donna walked out of her office. “Oy, Stevie, the new boss lady wants a word with you upstairs.”

Steven swallowed nervously. “Me? What for?”

Donna shrugged, a slight smirk on her face. “You know, I heard that there was a bit of a shakeup coming with the new regime but I thought it'd at least be a few days before you got sacked. Guess not.”

Bollocks, Steven thought. Hopefully there's at least a decent severance package. “Okay. Well, off I go then.”

He set down the last figurine and headed out of the gift shop towards the lifts. “Maybe they'll at least let me finish my shift before they give me the boot,” he wondered aloud as he pressed the button to call the lift.

“Why are you so worried?” Marc replied in his head. “You don't even like this job.”

“I do like it,” Steven protested, catching Marc's face in the reflection of the shiny metal doors. “Well, sort of. And anyway, we can't afford our flat without it.”

Marc was quiet for a moment. “I got some money,” he finally said as the lift arrived. “From Dad, after Mom… Well anyway, I've never touched it so that should keep you afloat for a little while until you find another job.”

The ride up to the 5th floor was one of the longest of Steven's life. He stepped out of the lift, nervously trying to tame his wild curls but ultimately just making his hair more messed up. Oh, bollocks.

He walked down the hall to the door marked Director and knocked.

“Come in,” a voice said.

Steven took a deep breath and entered.

He froze. Standing behind the museum director's desk was the woman he had been talking to in the Egyptian exhibit before Donna had spotted him. “Oh, erm…” Just my bloody buggering luck.

The visitor from earlier (the new museum director, you bloody great twit, he corrected himself) smiled warmly. “Hello again, ‘Steven-with-a-v’.”

“Er, hello, Miss.” Steven could see his employee file open on the director's desk and began mentally going over their entire interaction from earlier, trying to figure out what exactly he had done in order to get sacked so quickly. He hadn't been on the clock at the time so it wasn't like he actually had been dawdling instead of working, and he hadn't really complained about his job beyond mentioning that the display placard for Mekhit was incorrect and about how long it took for the banner depicting the Ennead to be corrected.

The director motioned to the chair in front of her desk. “Have a seat.”

Steven sat as the director took her seat as well. 

The director folded her hands in front of her and placed them on her desk. “First of all,” she began, “apologies for not introducing myself earlier. My name is Y/F/N Y/L/N, and I'm the new director here at the museum. I'm sure you're wondering why I've called you to my office, especially so soon after starting my tenure here.”

“Er, yes ma'am,” Steven replied nervously, glancing up at the framed Ph.D hanging on the wall before once again looking at his open employment record.

Dr. Y/L/N slid Steven's file over to her and studied it for a moment. “You work in the gift shop, is that correct?”

Bollocks, here it comes. “Yes, ma'am.”

“You've never had any interest in becoming a tour guide, have you?”

“I'm sorry, ma’am, I wasn't trying to --” Steven blinked rapidly as her words registered. “Wait, what?”

Dr. Y/L/N looked up from his file. “Tour guide. You ever thought about it?”

Steven nodded. “All the time, actually. It's what I dream of doing.”

“Then why haven't you ever applied for an open tour guide position?”

Because Donna keeps telling me that there's no way it would ever happen, so why bother? “Well I, er…”

Dr. Y/L/N leaned back in her chair. “We actually have a current opening for the Visitor Engagement Specialist position… if you're interested, that is.”

Steven was speechless. “Visitor Engagement Specialist? But that's -- that's the head of programming and tours.”

Dr. Y/L/N nodded. “Yes, that's right. I'd like to offer you the position.”

She gestured towards his employee file. “I've read over your CV, Steven, and you're more than qualified.”

Steven was still processing. What the bloody hell is happening? 

Sounds like you're not getting fired, Marc answered. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Steven shook his head. “Even if I applied for the position, wouldn't I need to interview for it as well?”

Dr. Y/L/N’s lips turned up in a small smile. “Oh, but you already have.” 

Steven’s brow furrowed. “I have?” 

Dr. Y/L/N nodded. “The museum’s visitor numbers have been declining lately, so over the weekend I took a few tours to see how they could be improved, and to be quite honest I learned more from speaking to you for 10 minutes in the Egyptian exhibit than from taking 3 separate hour-long tours throughout the entire museum. You certainly had me enraptured during our conversation about Mekhit and Hathor this morning.”

She gave Steven a warm smile. “I would consider that enough of an interview to offer you the position, wouldn't you?”

Steven huffed out a nervous chuckle. “I -- I suppose so, ma’am.”

“The current tours are stale and boring,” Dr. Y/L/N continued. “And the guides themselves could use some, well, guidance  from someone with your knowledge of and enthusiasm for history and folklore. I think you could plan some wonderfully engaging tours.”

Steven rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I do have some ideas on how the current tours could be improved… So, er, what exactly does the position entail?”

“You'd work closely with the Curatorial department to develop programming and tours based on what we have on exhibit at the time while concurrently managing the Programming department. Of course, that would include being on the regular tour rotation as well as handling any specialized tours -- large groups, VIP guests, and the like. I know it would be a lot of work, but the position also comes with your own office as well as a sizable increase in pay.” Dr. Y/L/N quoted a figure that was more than double what Steven currently made. “Plus benefits.”

Steven’s eyes widened. With that sort of salary he could afford a bigger flat closer to the museum. “That's -- that's quite generous. I don't know what to say.”

Dr. Y/L/N nodded. “I know this is probably a bit of a shock, so feel free to take some time to think about it. Think you could give me an answer by the beginning of next week?”

What's there to think about? Marc chided him. You're being handed your dream job on a silver platter. Say you'll take it, dumbass.

Steven ignored Marc. “Yes, ma'am.”

Dr. Y/L/N closed Steven's file. “By the way, I put in an order for a new placard for the Mekhit exhibit. Thought you'd like to know.”

Steven grinned. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

“And one other thing…” Dr. Y/L/N paused briefly. “Does your current supervisor often speak to you the way she did this morning?”

Steven was taken aback. “Donna? Well, actually, er… well, she's a bit prickly, yes.”

“I see. And have you reported her behavior to anyone?”

Steven shook his head. “No, ma'am. Don't want to cause a scene or make things worse.”

“Mmm. Well, this 'poncy American' is going to have a private chat with her later on the way we treat our subordinates… and refer to our superiors.”

Marc chuckled. I think I'm in love.

Yeah, me too, Steven replied. Too bad she's my boss.

He really hadn't been flirting with Dr. Y/L/N earlier, although if Steven had been more confident he might have actually considered it. As it was, however, he was glad he hadn't. Most likely would've gotten sacked in that case.

Dr. Y/L/N stood. “Alright, Steven, thank you for coming in. Please let me know as soon as possible what your decision on the Visitor Engagement Specialist position is.”

Steven stood as well. “I will, ma'am. And no matter what I decide, thank you either way for the opportunity.”

“You're welcome. And thank you for such a stimulating conversation this morning. I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

Steven smiled. “I did too.”

He headed back down to the gift shop, where Donna was standing behind the register reading a book.

She looked up as Steven approached the counter. “What, still here? Figured you'd have cleared out your locker by now.”

Steven shook his head. “The new director just wanted to introduce herself and speak with me about something. Guess she's doing that with everyone.”

Donna rolled her eyes. “In that case, when you get done with restocking there's a new shipment of items that need to be unpacked and sorted.”

As if she couldn't have been working on all that shit herself while you were gone, Marc said as Donna headed back towards her office. Would you seriously rather be stuck with that than be the head of tours and programs? You know she's just going to make things more difficult after she gets reprimanded this afternoon.

Steven sighed. Yeah, I know.

Being a tour guide is exactly what you've been wanting to do since the day you started, and being the head of the entire department? Just think… you'd actually be in a higher position than Donna. Wouldn't you like to rub that in her face?

Steven chuckled to himself as he thought about Donna having to answer to him for a change. Yeah, actually, I quite like the thought of that.

Then what are you waiting for? 

You know what? You're right. Steven straightened. I deserve this position.

Damn right you do. Ever since we figured out how to work together you've been able to hold down your job just fine and haven't even been late once. You'll be great.

Steven moved over to the phone and pulled up the staff directory before dialing Dr. Y/L/N's extension.

“Yes, may I help you?” Dr. Y/L/N's voice said briskly over the line.

“Er, uh, Dr. Y/L/N, this is Steven… Steven Grant, from the gift shop?” Steven stammered out, suddenly losing his bravado.

Dr. Y/L/N's tone warmed immediately. “Yes, Steven, what can I do for you?”

Steven took a deep breath. “I've decided I don't need the week to think about your offer. I accept.”

“Wonderful!” Dr. Y/L/N sounded pleased. “I'll have HR start on the transfer paperwork right away so we can have you in your new position by next Monday. There's a couple of new Egyptian artifacts on loan from the Cairo Museum arriving on Thursday afternoon and we're wanting to have them installed by the beginning of next month, so hopefully we can have you settled and able to rework the tour to include them by then.”

Steven nodded even though he knew she couldn't see him. “That shouldn't be a problem. Thank you again for this opportunity, Dr. Y/L/N. I really appreciate it.” 

“You're welcome, Steven. I honestly think you'll thrive in your new position and I'm glad you accepted it.”

“Me too.”

“The museum board is introducing me to some benefactors in ten minutes so I'm afraid I've got to run in a few, but I'm looking forward to hearing your ideas on how to improve the current tours. Maybe we can talk more on Friday? I'll be meeting with the Curatorial department that morning to discuss placement of the new artifacts.” Dr. Y/L/N paused. “You know, actually, now that I think about it since you're going to be involved with that anyway I'd like you to sit in on that meeting as well, even if it's just to observe and check out the new artifacts for yourself.”

“Certainly, ma'am.”

“Ok, great. I'll let Donna know that I've scheduled another meeting with you and that your shift needs to be covered on Friday. What's your current schedule looking like for next week?”

Steven rolled his eyes, grateful that Dr. Y/L/N couldn't actually see him. “Donna has me doing inventory all next week.”

Dr. Y/L/N hummed. “Ok, well then it shouldn't be a problem to find someone else to cover that.”

“No, ma'am.”

“I'll see you Friday morning, then. Goodbye, Steven.”

“Goodbye.”

Steven hung up the phone. “Wow,” he said under his breath. “Wow, wow, wowee wow.”

Marc chuckled in his head. You've hit the big-time now.

“I get my own office. I get my own phone extension.” Steven's eyes widened. “I get my own business cards. ‘Steven Grant, Visitor Engagement Specialist’.”

Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

Steven nodded. “I still can't believe it.”

Believe it, buddy. Life is looking up.

Steven grinned. "It is, isn't it?"

He knew one thing for certain -- he couldn't wait to prove to Dr. Y/L/N that she had made the right decision.

[spiritualviolation]

HEADCANON FREE SPACE - GRIAN

from the response to this post

hi hello!! this post is a free space for people to come by and share their headcanons about a specific mcyt character, and this post is for grian!

grian is like. one of those chars that are just headcanon central, so i thought it be appropriate to start with him

not-exactly-rules but some guidelines + my own headcanons under the cut!

- GO ABSOLUTELY NUTS!! share as MANY as you like, i literally don’t mind if you’re going to make a ten page essay about your headcanons. just go wild, just as long as it sticks to the character of this post! bc if it i do multiple characters on one post it might get overwhelming and messy

- you can either do it in the tags or you can just reblog and add to this, i don’t mind as long as it’s convenient for you! you can add to other people’s rbs but i do think it would be better if you rb it straight off this post, but that depends on you!!

- if you want to reblog with your design as well so you can explain your hcs, go ahead! i would absolutely love to see how people design the characters individually!!

i will probably make a masterpost for this but for now we’ll start humble, but i’m aiming to release one post per week, but maybe would speed it up if my schedule allows me!

so yea, go wild!

i will probably start with the life series peeps first but i am thinking of maybe doing qsmp peeps as well after!

my grian headcanons cause i wrote a whole thing in my notes app:

- in my hc, the forms of watchers are dream-like and amorphous, basically visual mindfucks in appearance. grian who was fairly new to the watchers still kept his regular human form, but those who have been watchers for a very long time eventually would lose their individual human identity, and is assimilated into the collective that are the watchers. grian, if give or take maybe a century, the same thing would have eventually happened to him.

- his wings, gifted to him when he was ‘taken’, are generally amorphous and shifting, and you can never focus what shape they’re supposed to be (they can give you a headache the longer you try to look at their genuine form), but he can disguise them in any shape he wants (bird wings, dragon wings, etc.) so it doesn’t hurt to look at them.

- grian cut off his association with them just several months after he was taken, joining hermitcraft not long after, estranging themselves from them.

- he can still use his powers (which include astral projection, and etc.), but because of his cut ties they’re significantly weaker than the average watcher. for example, watchers can ‘watch’ over an entire server, but grian can only ‘watch’ one person at a time.

- his reasons for not wanting to be assimilated into the watchers is that he knows what it’s like to have been pushed and forced to take up a role against his will (ahem high school ahem), and it’s hurt him and he won’t want to let it hurt him again. aside from that, he finds that the watchers are extremely boring, considering all they do is observing passively from the sidelines and all that, which is the complete opposite of how grian likes to operate. he finds it extremely restrictive and prevents him from actively participating in things. not wanting to be confined to that, he cut ties with them.

- however he still uses his powers for troublemaking and mischief, and also to help others when they need it. he doesn’t consider himself affiliated with the watchers because he thinks it’s merely some godly title and also because he wouldn’t want anyone to think him differently, so he doesn’t really hide it.

- as he denied his watcher status very early into joining them, he still has the physicality (stamina, energy and such) of a regular human. only his wings are amorphous instead of his entire form since his wings were given to him when he joined them.

- made the life smp as a fun game for his friends, but in my hc, they did a test run before starting 3rd life. it was during that test run when the watchers seized control over the server.

- during 3rd life, he put admin restrictions on himself to remove his wings so he couldn’t fly and it was fair game for the rest.