#next time bring up irritations sooner if you can

[rotationalsymmetry]

...there's a false premise in the way this is laid out, which is that either the friend is too needy (a personal flaw that they need to change) or OP just has to put up with it and do whatever the friend wants.

But it doesn't have to be either. People, including OP, can establish boundaries with friends, and/or request specific changes, without anyone being in the wrong.

A somewhat different example, if someone asks for money to pay a medical expense on here and I'm not willing/able to contribute, there is no need or benefit in me telling a story that that person is a scammer who doesn't really need the money. Sometimes one person needs a thing that another person has no moral obligation to provide. That's a very common situation.

It's also more constructive to treat these problems as several small problems rather than one big problem. Not "my friend is too needy" or "I am not patient enough". But instead: I don't like being late to things and I also don't like being the time monitor. (Possible solutions: ask friend to set reminders on their phone, plan get togethers where start time is flexible, tell friend I find being time monitor irritating but would find it less irritating if they said thank you (if true), spend less time with friend.) And also, I don't like speaking for them at restaurants and stores. (Possible solution: I don't know. Maybe hang out in quieter locations? Maybe they can communicate with index cards prepared in advance or something?) And also, I don't like being around friend when friend is in a persistent bad mood for reasons I think are trivial. (Possible solutions: mental reframing, having less open ended plans or just chanceling plans when friend gets into a bad mood, talk with friend about emotional management if it's a close relationship, ???)

If it were me in the friend's position with the emotional triggers/bad moods, I generally have a great deal of appreciation for people who are willing to listen to me talk about my feelings, but that's not necessarily a universal thing. And I do try to reciprocate and be supportive when the friend/whatever has their own problems and wants emotional support. But I do recognize lots of people do not want that involved of a friendship. And everyone's different and this friend might not want that. Or they might want company while they're experiencing disappointment without the talking about feelings. Or something else. Sometimes people dislike being around somebody in a bad mood because they feel like a bad person if they can't fix things; if that's the case with OP it might be good to ask the friend what sort of reaction or support they want when they're in a bad mood, and if they say something like they just want company, to accept that providing company is helping and doing a good thing as a friend, even though the friend's mood doesn't immediately transform.

(From a social justice perspective especially around not cutting off people with eg depression just for having an illness, I think it's important for people to learn to tolerate socializing with people who are not happy when possible.)

These multiple small problems can easily seem like one big problem, because the frustration is cumulative (people tend to be more likely to tolerate one irritating quality in a friend than a bunch of irritating qualities) but they are not one big "friend being needy" problem nor does "friend being needy" particularly suggest a solution. They are several different problems: a timekeeping problem, a social interactions problem, an emotional management and/or tolerating being around a person in a bad mood problem, and they might all have very different solutions.

It is possible to address them all in one conversation if you really want to, but procede with caution, because people pretty consistently react badly to hearing "here's multiple grudges I've been holding that you knew nothing about" and typically respond much better when friends bring up problems when they're still only mildly to moderately irritated and there's only one problem to address, not several (and also not "one problem" that sure sounds like "hey can you just be a different type of person?")

Human relationships are messy and involve compromises, but also there are some approaches to conflict resolution that are more likely to be constructive than others and making specific requests, or making specific changes that are up to OP and not up to the friend, are more likely to be constructive than either "hey friend you are too needy stop that" or "hey self, your own needs do not matter just let your friend treat you like a doormat no matter the cost to yourself, that's what good friends do."

Very reasonable to ask for feedback on this.

WIBTA if I confront my friend about being too needy?

My friend (mid 20's) is a really cool person but I (30's) struggle with how much help they need from me. Needy is a really uncharitable way to put it, I know, but I don't know how else to describe it.

Whenever we hang out we are constantly late to everything even with me prodding them that we have x minutes to leave. They freeze up often when approached by staff in restaurants and stores and I have to speak for them. And they have a ton of emotional triggers that I struggle to navigate. Just as an example they were talking about wanting to get into the same industry as me. I really enjoy the my career, so I told them what it was like. It wasn't what they expected. They then sighed, said "I don't want to do that anymore," and pouted about it for the rest of the night.

I haven't talked with them yet, but my friend does talk at length that they are autistic and things intimidate them. I'm not autistic and I am older, most of these things don't intimidate me. While I don't mind stepping up and helping people on occasion, I don't think it's unfair to point out that their issues have been offloaded to me without even asking if I'm okay with it.

What gives me pause is I've talked about this problem with some friends who are autistic and they said that they understand why I feel the way I do, but I should be more patient. The same friend does the same behavior with them but I guess it bothers me more than it does other people? I am rapidly running out of patience and the situation still feels like I have to be the one to tank everything because I can deal with it better.

I know that for the health of our friendship I really need to talk to them about this. I am worried that the friend in question will shut down and I won't be able to emotionally regulate my own frustrations well enough. Then other friends will think I'm being callous.

TL;DR WIBTA if I confront my autistic friend that they need too much help from me?

What are these acronyms?

[moonyspupp]

You just don’t listen do you?

Severus snape X f!Reader smut

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My first fanfic on here!

CW: teacher student relationship (reader is of age!) breeding, minor name calling, SMUT

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While your many years at hogwarts went by very quickly, it feels like only yesterday you first stepped foot onto the grounds. Even though you had to stay an extra year due to poor marks, you loved hogwarts the same nevertheless. With all the laughter and excitement you shared with your classmates and friends these years, your mind was always occupied with the thoughts of your potions teacher;

Severus Snape

You weren’t sure what about him caught your eye, all you knew was that you wanted him, badly. None of your friends knew about your secret desire or you could even say , the hots for your teacher, how could you ever confess to that? But as your final year at the school comes near, there’s a dreadful realization that once you’re graduate, that’s it for your little dream when it came to him. As you daydream about graduation day and the fact you’ll leave everything in this school behind very soon, sooner than you realize. You’re suddenly brought out of your trance as Professor Snape smacks the back of your chair with his book.

⋆┊ ┊ . ┊ . ┊✩ ⋆┊ ┊ . ┊ . ┊✩ ⋆┊ ┊ . ┊ .

"Daydreaming again, Miss (L/N)?" he asks, his voice heavy with irritation.

My eyes snap open, the force of the smack bringing me back to reality. I look up to see Professor Snape looming over my desk, his lips curled into a sneer. I shake awake at his words; now fully processing it. “Oh shit..” I mutter . The class now quiet now as no one dared to say a word; the only sounds that could be heard were the bubbling cauldrons

“I-im sorry sir, im just a bit tired today” I say stuttering from embarrassment

“Well obviously you’ve been tired for the past three weeks , obvious by looking at your marks” Snape says harshly giving my seat another quick smack. I nearly jump in my seat , not daring to meet his gaze, I slightly tremble not knowing what to say next; what he would say next . “See me after class miss (L/N), at this rate I’ll be surprised to see you graduate this school” he says nearly snarling “I would hate to have you again as a student.” The class is still dead silent, as if everyone’s waiting for something to happen. “Yes sir” I say muttering trying my best not to make it so obvious I was beyond embarrassed at the confrontation about my marks. Snape eyes me up and down before returning back to the front of the class, his dark robes trailing near his feet as he walked briskly. For the rest of the class period, i try my best to focus on the lecture, but i can't shake the feeling of the embarrassment I faced earlier. Every time you glance at Snape, i can feel his gaze on me, like a hawk watching its prey. I thought to myself, “I knew I wanted his attention but this is NOT what I meant..” I tap my foot against the cobblestone floor nervously, keeping my eyes down either at my shoes or my empty notes.

As the class comes to an end, the students pack up their things and start to leave. My friends give me a look of nervousness, I knew I had to stay back but the fact it was going to be just me and him alone in the classroom was so terrifying but somehow it wasn’t in a scary way. Snape's voice rings out, stopping me in your tracks as i attempted to leave the classroom before he could see.

"Not you, Miss (L/N). Don’t forget you’ll be staying behind today."

I let out an annoyed groan before I turn around and face him, the realization that the only two people in this now empty classroom were you and him.

Your potion teacher, the one teacher you had the hots for

I feel my face slightly flush at the thought. The room was quietly; the only sound my nervous breaths in the still air. Snape stands at his desk, idly straightening some papers, his dark eyes never leaving you. I feel his eyes almost burning into me, even though i didn’t look up once after we were alone, i could just feel it. I take a seat in one of the chairs in the front row.

"You've been struggling in my class for quite some time," he says, his voice low and stern. "Why do you think that is?"

“I’m just a bit scared that I’ll graduate soon sir.” I let out a nervous laugh, I tap my foot on the floor once again but this time even faster. Snape's eyes narrow slightly and he stops straightening the papers, his full attention now on me.

"Is that so?" he says, his voice neutral. "You think that's a valid excuse for your poor performance in my class?" Snape stands up and walks around the desk, his footsteps echoing in the silent classroom. He stands directly over me, his body just a few inches away from mine. I'm not one to tolerate excuses, Miss (L/N). I expect excellence from all my students, and you haven't been living up to those expectations.” He snarls

I shake at his words, he’s never scolded me in such a way like this other than today, sure he’s called me out in class for sleeping or missing notes, but never this way, never this close. I couldn’t shake the feeling of fear and somehow, desire as well. For a few seconds longer I let my thoughts dwell until I bring myself to answer, “I apologize sir it’s just-“

He cuts me off slamming both his hands on the desk, the sound nearly echoing in the room. “I don’t want to hear any of your excuses” he groans, his facial expression changing to one that’s obviously more irritated. “I’ve heard it all before, you think I’ve never had a student who couldn’t care less about my class Miss (L/N)? You wouldn’t be the first he hisses” He says his eyes fixing on me.

“But sir that’s not it I swear to Merlin, I’ve just been distrac-“ I say frantically trying to prove to Snape wrong. Snape's hand reaches out quick and grips my chin, gripping it tightly and forcing me to look into his eyes. His eyes burn into mine as his face was mere inches away.

"You've been distracted?” he asks sarcastically , his voice a low growl. "It's a wonder how you manage to pass your other classes;if you even are at this point, with so much going on in that pretty little head of yours. Tell me, exactly what is causing this... distraction?” I tremble at let out a whimper as I feel his grip tightening on his face, He forces my chin up even higher to try to get an answer out of me. I see Snape’s lips curl into a slight smirk, my breathing became more unsteady by the second , as I feel my desire and arousal growing.

“Nothing sir” I say looking scared

Snape backs me up to his desk. “You must think I’m stupid little girl, do you really think I was born yesterday?

I see the way you look at me in class, this entire year, don’t try to deny it now miss (L/N), look at the way you’re quivering under my touch.” He says his voice trailing off and grip still steady on my neck. My breathing hitches at his words “fuck he’s right” I thought to myself. I feel my brows furrowing and my face becoming hotter by the second. I stir slightly at his grip needing more, more of his touch, I accidentally let out a soft moan. Snape nearly flinches at the sudden sound.

Your moan sent a shiver down Snape’s spine. He can feel your body responding to his presence, the combination of fear and desire making both of your heads spin. He eventually releases my chin and moves even closer to me, his body now pressed against mine. His hand shaking around my waist with a grip that was almost painful and apparent with desire.

"I know what you want little girl," he whispers in my ear, his voice low and seductive. "And I have just the way to get you to admit it." My arms wrap around his neck to bring him closer. Merlin you just had to feel more of him..

He nips at my earlobe, his teeth biting at my skin. The feeling goes straight to your core, and I can't help the small gasp that escapes my lips. I feel my legs shaking around his waist. I breathe heavy in his ear, my face turning even more red at the realization that he hasn’t even touched me yet and I’m acting this way.

Snape lets out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying the effect he's having on you. "Hush" he says, his hand moving to grip your hip. "No sounds until I tell you, if you want to misbehave in my class then you’ll have to work for your pleasure. Bad girls don’t get rewarded."

“Yes sir” I say shaking

He shifts himself so I can wrap around him better, I can feel his hard length lining up with my core. I grip his robes tightly as I feel it throb under his pants, the desires I’ve had are slowly becoming a reality, I have a hard time accepting that and my brain feels as it’s nearly melting at this point. I hear him groan as the readjusted position seems to have an effect on him too. I lightly squeeze my legs together and push myself further down onto his hardness just to be a bit of a tease to him.

I feel his grip on my hips tighten , his nails digging into the flesh of my thigh. His hand comes back up to grip my chin once more, “you minx” he hisses before crashing his lips onto mine. The kiss was possessive and rough, I moan as I feel him hold me tighter against him. His tongue slips into my mouth, it feels demanding, dominating even, I give into the feeling and let myself be devoured in that moment. It nearly feels like forever until I pull away from the kiss slightly to meet his gaze, breathing heavily with a moan in between each breath.

With my swollen parted lips and my eyes slightly heavy with lust “Professor” I say huffing with desire “Ravage me.” His eyes widen at your words, a hungry grin spreading across his face. "You don't know what you're asking for, Miss (L/N). Are you sure you can handle it?"

“Please!” I say nearly whining, my heads thrown back and my legs are shaking now more than ever. I feel the desire pooling in my core making it impossible to speak properly, all my words come out in almost a babble, but deep in my head I know I’ve entered dangerous territory, but you can't help yourself. You want this, you want him.

Snape smirks, his grip on you tightening. "Very well," he says, his voice a dangerous growl. "I'll give you exactly what you're asking for."

I can barely prepared what happens next until I feel him spin me around and pins me against his desk. His body pressed against mine even harder than before, his hands roaming over my body, his lips finding my neck once again.

"You asked for this," his voice a low growl. "And I'll give it to you, all of it.”

I moan loudly at the sudden feeling , my backside now exposed to him, I feel my legs slightly kick and twitch in anticipation.

Snape runs two fingers up and down my soaked panties then pulls them to the side, my body shakes slightly at the pleasure, I subconsciously let my moans out. I feel a tight grip on my hair then my head being pulled back, I hear him whisper; voice dripping like sweet dark desire. “I thought I made myself clear when I said to hush?”

“m so sorry sir! ” I say with slight tears welling up in my eyes. He brings his face closer to my bare neck and I feel his lips biting on my exposed skin. I cover my mouth with one of my hands to muffle any potential moans that could come next. I shut my eyes and let my body accept the feeling.

“Such a greedy thing” he whispers in my ear as his grip on me tightens. I can only whimper in response“So bold of you to tell me to ravage you. You don't even know what you're asking for." His whisper turning a primal growl. I moan into my hand once more nodding feverishly, my body responding to his every touch and every word. His hand moves back down to my ruined panties, his grip tight and possessive on me. "But I'm going to give it to you, darling," he hisses. "And you're going to take whatever I give you, aren't you?"

“Yes professor!” I cry out, my hips moving against his hands greedily. I feel my heart racing, my head is spinning, and I can barely think straight. I hear him laugh, his hand continue down its path down your body. He tugs at the hem of your skirt, his breath hot on your ear.

"I thought so,” he whispers. “You’re trembling so much dear, you want this more than you'd like to admit, don't you?"

“Yes sir” I say burying my face into my arms shyly. My body still violently shaking with pleasure and embarrassment. I hear the sound of his belt unbuckling followed by the sound of fabric hitting the floor, he slips off my ruined panties as well. I nearly wince at the feeling of Snape rubbing the swollen head of his cock up and down my leaking slit. I moan loudly at the feeling and feel a sharp slap come down onto my behind. I arch my back at the sudden pain and shriek.

“You just never listen do you Miss(L/N)?”

“Please professor I can’t take it anymore” I say tears running down my face now. “Im begging you please” I could no longer create coherent thoughts and all the words that came out of my mouth became nothing but babbling.

Snape chuckles “Then let it all out then dear.”

I feel him push past my fold, sheathing his entire length into my tight insides. I let out almost a scream at the feeling of pleasure. “Professor!” I say crying out , I throw my head down even lower, not being able to keep it up any longer. He leans over my back and moans, “fuck, you’re so tight. It’s like your body was made for me to claim” He groans. He was now balls deep in me, I shake at the feeling of being stretched out so much and by the man I wanted so badly. He kissed and bites my shoulders and back wildly as he pounded me hard and primal into his desk. I felt my back arch as he gripped my hips tight and thrusted even harder. “You’re so perfect..” I heard him mutter under his breath as he moaned. “more please sir I can take it” I say babbling , gripping onto the edge of the desk for dear life. Snape happily obliges, I feel my insides nearly split open as he continues his rough pounding. Hearing his guttural moans sends me over the edge.

His grip comes up to my throat , the gasp that came out my mouth sounded strangled yet full of pleasure. I feel another sharp slap come down my ass. “Fuck!” I scream out

My potions teacher was ravaging my pussy, using my body.

My eyes begin to roll back into my skull as I let him do as he pleased with my body. I felt my desires begging to turn primal, “Professor breed m’ please” I said barely holding onto my composure. A dribble of drool began to seep its way out of the corner of my mouth as I huffed. Snape come undone by my pleas and need to be bred.

I hear his breathing hitch into gasps, I feel him trembling as he continued to pound behind me as I heard him speak “ you’re sure love? You want to take that chance? You’re willing to let me breed you? Without any protection?”

Though I couldn’t see behind me I still felt a smile creep onto Snapes face. “Yes please breed me professor let m’ have your children! I cried out” , whining at the need to be filled to the brim with his cum, to carry and become round with his children. All the thoughts and pleasure overstimulated me to the point where the only thing I could do was moan,whimper, and drool.

Snape fucks me even harder , the desk below me starts to creak and thump against the floor. I moan loudly at his brutal rough thrusts. “Gonna fill you up so full with my cum darling” “gonna be so fucking pretty with your belly full with my children, you’d want that wouldn’t you slut?” He asks , “yes please don’t stop” I babble not being able to lift my head up to speak properly. “

he groans at my fucked state, “gonna cum “ he mutters. I feel his grip on my hips becoming tighter, his nails digging into my behind, his thrusts became more and more sloppy by the second, “m’ too sir “ I say muttering; my brain nearly fried at that point. The volume of our moans combined eventually spilt us both over the edge. I feel Snape feel my warm cunt up full with his hot potent seed. Afterwards I felt him lean over my back for quite a while , obviously tired from that entire ordeal, maybe even a hint of hesitation when it came to pulling out played a part in that.

Eventually he did, drops of his seed dripped onto the floor under us, the withdrawal made me whimper at the loss of what made me feel full. Snape and I take another moment to collect our composure. He sets me upright on his desk and placed a soft kiss on my lips.

“Gorgeous girl..” he mutters , I smile at his words , “I’ve always wanted to do that” I say shyly

“I know” Snape says buckling his pants again.

I give him a pout at the fact he didn’t play along, “can I stay with you for tonight sir?” He rolled his eyes and nodded. I slip my underwear back on and readjust my skirt and top, I grab onto his arm, “don’t pretend like you don’t like me sir, I know you’ll miss me once I graduate” I say still giving him a pout.

He gives me an irritated look but I could sense a slight bit of affection through it

“I’ll still be seeing you after you’re graduated.”

I give him a sweet smile now holding onto his hand as he led me through the corridors to his quarters..

[aphroditelovesu]

can you please write 🦄 for either yan!steve or yan!bucky?

❝🦄❞ - ‘’I... I really can't let you go.’’

❝tw: kidnapping and slight angst.

When Steve found you at home, well, at least he considers it your home, you were lying on the couch, reading a book of your favorite genre. The mere sight of your presence made him smile and he unconsciously moved closer to you.

"Hey, honey." He murmured as he sat down next to you on the couch, close to your feet stretched out and bare beneath the soft fabric. Steve frowned slightly when you didn't respond to him. "Honey? I'm home." He tried again, his voice firmer.

But he got no response.

Steve sighed irritably when he realized what you were doing. The punishment of silence.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, feeling his frustration growing. He knew the punishment of silence was your way of showing that something was wrong, but he couldn't understand what he could have done to deserve it.

Everything he did was for you. Always for you and would always be for you.

He leaned forward, placing his hand gently on your knee. "Honey, please tell me what's going on." He pleaded, concern evident in his voice. "I can't fix what's wrong if you don't tell me."

The book in your hands continued to be your only answer. Steve sighed again, deeper this time, and decided to try a different approach. He got up and went to the kitchen, preparing your favorite drink. Maybe, with a little patience and a gesture of affection, he could break the silence and find out what was going on.

Steve quickly returned to the living room, bringing with him a silver tray with your favorite drink and snacks. He placed it in front of him, on the coffee table. However, you refused to talk to him, or even look at him.

Had he done something wrong?

Steve tried to search his mind for anything he could have done that triggered such a reaction from him, this coldness that hurt him more than anything. He sighed when he finally realized that it may have been the sudden change in your life that caused you to become so cold towards him.

You still hadn't completely gotten used to his presence, to living with him. It had been something sudden when he brought you here, but Steve couldn't leave you alone, not when the world was becoming more and more dangerous. He couldn't even imagine what he would do if something happened to you.

Steve sat next to him again, this time closer. He gently touched your shoulder, trying to get your attention. "I know things changed too quickly." He began, his voice low and full of regret, "I brought you here thinking it would be for the best, but perhaps I didn't consider how much it would affect you."

He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words, "I just wanted to protect you, make sure you were safe. But I understand if you're feeling like you've lost your freedom, your old life. I'm sorry if I was selfish in not realizing it sooner."

Silence still hung between you, but Steve continued, determined to get through to you. "I want you to feel at home here, not like a prisoner. And if there's anything I can do to make this easier for you, please tell me. I'm here to listen."

You finally looked at him and placed the book down in your lap. Your gaze met his and you spoke, your voice loud and clear. "I want to go home. To my real home."

His gaze suddenly hardened and the grip on your shoulders tightened, becoming painful. His voice was low but you could feel the anger, the pain, in them. "No."

Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden change in his behavior. Steve had always been protective, but he had never been so authoritarian. You tried to pull your shoulders away from his grip, but he wouldn’t budge.

"Steve, you're hurting me." You mumbled, trying to keep your voice calm even as fear rose within you.

He took a deep breath, eyes softening a little, but his grip still firm. "Sorry." He murmured, slowly releasing you. "I just... I can't let you go. It's dangerous out there, and I can't risk losing you."

You rubbed your shoulders, feeling relief mixed with growing discomfort. "But I can't live like this, Steve. I need my freedom, my space. I can't be a prisoner. I can't."

He shook his head, visibly struggling with his own emotions. "It's not a prison. It's to protect you. You have to understand that."

Steve grabbed your hands and squeezed them gently, touching you as if you were made of glass, and with any wrong touch, you could fall apart. He rubbed your fingers and replied, "I... I really can't let you go."

His words were painful to hear because you knew he was telling the truth. He would never let you go.

[charliemwrites]

Commission: Bastard's Bishop

Hello, hello!! It's been a minute, hasn't it? Here's a commission I did a couple weeks ago for my dear fishstick! I had a blast writing this and learning more about packers!

Please note that I've included some general content tags, specific warnings for intimacy, and lastly, some notes for terminology used for the reader character, Bishop, and his genitalia. All my love <3

Content: FTM reader, obsessive/possessive behavior, mild harassment, dub-con Dub-Con intimacy: thigh-riding, intercrural, unprotected PIV, semi-public, overstim, praise kink, mild dacryphilia, mild size kink Trans Man Reader terminology: cock/clit semi-interchangeably, cunt, hole, he/him pronouns and endearments, reader has a packer

divider by user: gildui

You narrow your eyes as your back twinges for the third time today, grip tightening on your mop handle.

It’s been like this all week, a tight pinch somewhere between your spine and your right hip. A deep ache that no amount of stretching or heat packs has soothed thanks to the demands of your job. Repeatedly stooping to pick up trash, move furniture, and clean floors tends to undo most of the rest and recovery you achieve in your off hours.

Still, after being out all of last week, your PTO is running a bit thin, and you can’t afford to take more. KorTac’s employment package is good – but not that good.

You pause long enough to take a deep breath, willing the muscles to relax.

The clock on the wall reads late afternoon – not much longer now. Just this last hallway (all admin offices and conference rooms) and you’ll be done. Most of the operators have left already at least. In and out of base early, leaving you to clean up after them, when you’re not at risk of hearing any confidential information.

You’re glad for the solitude today, not quite up for polite half-smiles you sometimes get when you accidentally make eye contact. You’d much rather just put your head down and do your job – the sooner you can crack open that bottle of paracetamol in your locker.

All around, it hasn’t even been a bad day, apart from your sore back. You got in on time, your boss is out with appendicitis, and the bane of your existence hasn’t made an appearance at all this week. Lisa in accounting mentioned he’s away on a mission, so hopefully you won’t have to deal with him for—

“Daydreaming on the job, Schatz?”

You jump at the gruff voice next to your ear, headphones slipping down to your collarbones. A startled curse mangled in your throat as you brain catches up, recognizing the gravel-on-stone accent rumbling too close for comfort.

Already scowling, you turn on your heel, face-to-mask with green netting and broad shoulders.

As always, Krueger’s obscured features bring you up a bit short, mouth popping open for a sharp remark your brain lags to provide. Bastard.

“I’m not daydreaming,” you end up huffing. Try to sound clipped, despite the thumping of your heart, but it comes out sullen. Close enough.

“It is okay, I will not tell anyone,” he leers, “as long as you were daydreaming about me.”

The worst part is that you kind of were. Maybe not the way he means – this time, anyway – but close enough to the truth that you feel your face growing warm despite yourself.

“You’re delusional,” you scoff, turning away. You scrub harder than necessary at the linoleum, trying to work out the frustrating mix of irritation and intrigue that Krueger inspires in you.

As always, he fails to take the hint.

“What, you did not miss me while I was gone?” he mocks.

From the corner of your eye, you can see him shifting closer. Too close. Far past politeness and skirting rude, damn near crowding.

It makes you all too aware of the slight angle you’re bent at, pushing your ass out. Thankfully, the baggy fit of your khakis obscures any suggestive shape, providing modesty you shouldn’t need while doing janitorial work.

“You were gone?” you reply, flat. As if you didn’t feel a conflicted pang in your chest when you realized you’d have a few peaceful, uninterrupted days.

He simpers, “I missed you last week. Where did you go, hm?”

His audacity almost coaxes a disbelieving laugh from your tongue. Intimidating and oddly charismatic as he can be, you’re not about to abide him being so blatantly nosy. You’ve already learned this lesson with Krueger – give an inch and he’ll take miles and miles before you even realize what you’ve done.

That’s how you ended up with him calling you “Schatz” so casually.

“None of your business,” you reply.

“You were sick, no?” he continues as if you haven’t spoken. His voice drops to a near purr, “You should have called, I would take such good care of you, Liebling.”

You stiffen, eyes tellingly wide. How the hell does he know that? And why?

It’s the one question that nips at your mind every time he interacts with you – the why of it all. You don’t get it. He’s one of KorTac’s best soldiers, dangerous and competent and funny for all he’s an arrogant prick. You’ve seen plenty of other KorTac employees flirting and checking him out. He’s not hurting for romantic or sexual prospects.

So why the fuck does he ever spend time on you? Teasing you, baiting you? You, the grumpiest of the janitors with chipped nail polish and the baggy clothes and the giant headphones that practically scream “leave me the fuck alone.” Why does he always seek you out?

You don’t trust the answer. It prods at uncomfortable, hurtful suspicions that you refuse to entertain, so you just try not to think about it at all.

Instead, you feel genuine irritation flare in your chest and clutch onto it, pushing away any fondness-born vulnerability aside. You dunk the mophead hard into the bucket, a soapy droplet landing on his scuffed black boots.

“I don’t need taking care of,” you snip back. “Especially not from you.”

It’s the sharpest you’ve ever been with him.

There’s a single, stony beat where you realize this is not the time or man to let your temper get the better of you.

You can feel his gaze boring into you through the netting. You’ve seen him without it before, know that his eyes are dark as obsidian shards and just as sharp. Can already imagine them narrowed, his jaw tense. You peer at him from the corner of your eye, feel your breath catch when his hand starts to reach for you…

“Hey, Bishop?”

You jolt once again. Know your eyes are way too big when you whip around, looking past Krueger to the doorway. One of your coworkers is there, poking their head around the frame and blissfully oblivious to the… well, to whatever this situation is.

“Would you mind helping me move a shelf? Someone dropped their coffee behind it.”

You damn near fling the mop aside, adrenaline buzzing through your veins as you realize just how alone you’ve been with Sebastian Krueger of all people.

“No problem,” you reply, eye twitching when your voice cracks a bit.

You don’t dare glance over your shoulder as you flee like a hunted rabbit. You already know Krueger will be staring after you.

You sigh as you swallow the last of your lukewarm water, easing the paracetamol tabs down your esophagus. Your locker is open just to your right, sparse and bland, but functional. Your casual clothes are waiting, half-folded on the little shelf inside. Mostly clean, still baggy, but a lot more comfortable than your khakis and polo.

Finally, you think, kicking your work shoes off to begin changing.

A flicker of movement is your only warning.

A hand darts past your head, slamming your locker shut with a clang that echoes in the empty lavatory. You yelp and spin around, only to be pushed back against cold, unforgiving metal. Krueger looms over you, nothing but a dark shadow beyond that green netting. Big and intimidating and here.

“What—”

He shushes you, quiet and drawling. Like he’s got all the time in the world. A shiver races down your spine and pools low in your gut.

“You seem to be using your words poorly today, Schatz,” he says, barely more than a rumble in his chest. “Perhaps you should stop using them, hm? Before I find a nicer use for your mouth.”

And you hate that your voice dries up, throat parched despite the half liter you chugged just a moment ago. He plants his other hand beside your head, caging you in. You’re dismayed to realize escape didn’t even occur to you before the option was revoked.

“We are friends, Bishop, no?”

You don’t dare answer. He doesn’t wait for one.

“As your friend, I worry that you work too much. This is why you were sick, you see? It is no good to work so hard all the time. No breaks, no rest.”

He speaks so casually, treating this like a normal conversation with an actual friend. But there’s no missing the edge in his voice, something predatory lurking between consonants and vowels. You heart claws at your ribcage, prey trying to escape a trap it can’t see.

“What is that English saying? ‘All work, no play,’ something like that?” He shrugs, and in doing so, sways closer.

He feels like a furnace without even touching you, making you flushed, sweaty. The scent of gunpowder peppers the heated sliver of air between your bodies, ready to ignite. You try to raise your hands, urge some distance. Overwhelmed by his proximity.

In one swift, yet almost lazy movement, he captures both of your wrists in one big, gloved hand. Pins them firmly over your head. You gasp and try to tug free, to no avail. While not painful, his grip is vicelike, unwavering. Tucking you neatly out of his way.

“Without proper rest, we become mean to our friends.” You shudder as his free hand begins tracing leisurely down your neck, over your bobbing throat. Even with the tactical glove on, his touch is deceptively light, almost ticklish. “You were so mean today, mein Prinz, when I was only trying to be a good friend.”

His fingers trail lower, down to the center of your chest, where he can surely feel your heart pounding. Your breath catches as his attention moves sideways and you realize his goal.

“Kreuger—”

He clicks his tongue as you start to squirm, as much a warning to you as part of his speech.

“Lucky for you, I am a very good friend.”

An embarrassed noise squeaks out of you as his index finger loops around your nipple, already tight and hard against the stiff fabric of your shirt. Little sparks of electricity crackle through your body, lighting up your nerves.

“I will take care of you as I should have when you were ill.”

This is his idea of sick care?! you think frantically, as mean fingers pinch your nipple through your shirt.

Another noise gets caught on the back of your tongue, a high-pitched whimper that you barely manage to swallow down.

“K-Krueger—” you cut yourself off with a whine as his tugs and then releases, swiping his thumb back and forth over the sensitive peak. The friction makes you tender in seconds, knees nearly buckling. “Th-this isn’t funny…”

He switches to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment until you’re throbbing in your boxers. You feel dizzy and needy, horrifically aroused and not even sure if you want to be. Your nipples are going to be sore if he doesn’t stop; they already ache just the way you like but somehow, maddeningly, he never crosses the line into rough.

“I am not laughing,” he replies, dead serious.

You want to say a million different platitudes – all those cheesy lines you usually snort at in romances. Knock it off, this isn’t a joke, you don’t scare me, you can drop the act.

Because you know he won’t, it isn’t, you are, and he’s not.

“Krue – ah!”

“What is my name, Liebling?” he nearly growls. You shudder, ducking your head. But he just follows, the hood brushing your flushed cheek. You’ve never felt more like prey. “You do not call your friends by their last names.”

“S-Sebastian…”

He practically purrs, drawing a heart around your areola with the tip of his thumb. “Good boy.”

You clench around nothing, hole aching, devastatingly empty. Arch into his touch before you realize you’re doing it, needing something, anything.

“You deserve a treat, hm?” he chuckles.

The hand on your chest disappears beneath his hood. Through the weave, you see a flash of white teeth. The rip of Velcro is loud in the otherwise empty locker room. You’re so, so lucky that you waited until the rest of your coworkers went home before changing – you don’t think Krueger would have a problem doing this in front of them…

That train of thought (that definitely doesn’t make your cock pulse) is cut off when Krueger’s hand slithers beneath your shirt. His bare hand.

You moan as his hot, rough palm smooths up your heaving ribs, right back to your sensitized nipples. He twists and pinches and plucks at them, ruthless and relentless. You didn’t think it could get any more intense, but it’s like he’s unravelling your self-control with those clever, cruel fingers. Every bitten off noise and aborted twitch of pleasure just spurs him on, a soldier on a mission.

A particularly sharp squeeze makes your hips jerk, banging back against the metal. You’ve tipped your hand again.

He bullies his thigh between yours and presses it tight against your slick, throbbing core. Your packer presses just right against your clit, sending pleasure rocketing up your spine. There’s no stopping you from rocking down against the thick muscle, chasing after more.

“There we go,” he coos, voice so deep now that it rattles in your cloudy head. “You just needed to be taken care of it, is that it?”

You bite your lip, but it doesn’t stop you from whining, horrified that you’re not more pissed off by his condescending tone. Worse, you’re getting off on it, humping his leg like a horny teenager.

“My sweet little Prinz,” he continues, “mein Shatz. Working so hard all the time.”

You whimper, trembling with the pleasure burning in your veins. Already close, that coil grows tight in your abdomen, pitching your voice up higher and higher, louder and louder. Don’t think you could pull yourself away now even if he let you, too focused on riding his thigh. Just that little bit harder, that little bit faster…

“Are you going to cum for me, Liebling?” he croons. “Do it, show me what a sweet boy you are.”

You fall over the edge with a shout, crumpling against his chest. Shuddering and twitching, panting into his shoulder. It feels like he’s everywhere, all you can see and smell and feel.

“S-stop,” you yelp when he tweaks your oversensitive nipple again. “Too much, Sebastian…”

He tuts sympathetically, giving your side a surprisingly comforting squeeze, before withdrawing his hand from beneath your shirt.

“There, are we feeling like a better friend now?” he hums, lowering your arms.

You take a deep breath, trying to assemble anything like coherent words from the scramble of your brain.

Before you can, the world spins. You blink, staring uncomprehendingly at the flaky grey paint of the locker you were just leaning against.

“Wha…?”

“Time to be a good friend in return, little one.”

You don’t even have a chance to wonder what he means. You can feel him pressing against your lower back, hot and thick and dripping. A pathetic noise eeks out from your throat as you brace your hands against the lockers.

“What are you going to…?”

You gasp again as he jerks your hips back sharply, a big hand between your shoulder blades to keep your chest pressed to the lockers. The cool sensation is heavenly on your sore nipples, but it doesn’t stop the nervous alarms ringing in your mind at the suggestive angle.

He hums, thumb caressing the dimples at the bottom of your spine.

“I have been stressed too, you know. My best friend was mean to me today.”

Your nails scrape against the metal as he tugs your pants and underwear halfway down your slick thighs. He whistles lowly, a satisfied noise in the back of his throat. You glance down and groan in mortification – the fabric of your boxers is absolutely drenched, clinging obscenely to your skin and the ridges of your packer.

“All this for me… such a good little Hase.”

You can tell he’s growing impatient now, though, because he doesn’t waste time teasing. You moan softly as his cock glides between the slick, sticky folds of your cunt. The bulbous tip skates along your own, still twitching with aftershocks and not at all prepared to be touched again so soon.

You whimper and try to jolt away but Krueger’s hands clamp down on your hips and rock you into the cradle of his own. He groans low and rough as he glides through your wetness, arching your spine to give himself a better angle to frot.

“So soft,” he mumbles, “such a good boy for me, I knew you would feel so good. Just had to show you how to behave. Shatz, my Shatz.”

You keen softly, find yourself squeezing your thighs together, giving him a tighter channel to fuck into. He’s so hot against you; you think you can feel drips of precum glossing your cock, the head of his dick catching on your hole when he pulls back too far. It’s tantalizing and thrilling, you don’t know if you want it or not anymore, and justify that he’s holding you too tight to escape anyway.

It shouldn’t be this easy, you think desperately as the flames of a new orgasm ignite from embers of the first. You’re too sensitive, too overstimulated, too—

“You’re going to cum for me again anyway,” he growls, and you realize you’ve been babbling all of that out loud.

Fuck.

It’s not a choice – it never was. He’s going to make you cum again and you’re drooling for it. You loosen your hips and spine, rock freely back into the urging of his hands. His hips pick up speed, settle into a rhythm better than any toy or vibrator you’ve ever played with (always thinking guiltily of him).

The next orgasm practically sneaks up on you. Building up until it’s spilling over all at once, ricocheting through you like a stray bullet. You damn near lock up with the shock and pleasure of it, but Krueger doesn’t let you, rubbing his cock against you until your knees buckle.

“No more games, Liebling,” he snarls.

He practically rips your pants and underwear the rest off the way off, leaving them in a puddle on the ground. A thick arm slithers around your waist, hauls you over to the locker room bench. Krueger drops onto it and drags you into his lap.

You catch yourself on his broad shoulders, staring wide-eyed at his cock jutting proudly between you two. It curves towards his stomach an angry red. Gleaming under the fluorescent lights with your slick, a pearl of it pooled right under the head, oozing down a pulsing vein.

Your mouth waters, but he doesn’t make good on his promise to use your mouth.

Instead, he scoops you up with a hand beneath your ass, the other wrapping around the wide base. Your fingers clench in the fabric of his shirt as you resist, whimpering nervously.

“It’s not going to fit, Sebastian!” you complain.

“It will, it will,” he soothes, “you are a big boy, you can take it…”

It’s not a choice, you think again, as he notches the fat head at your entrance.

You’re in no condition to hold yourself up in defiance. Not at your best, and not now when you’re already shaky and kitten weak on two orgasms, with even a fraction of Krueger’s considerable strength lowering you.

It stings.

You whimper and whine, bowing towards him, trying to relax. He coos and soothes with absent, sugary whispers until the head pops in. With his newly freed hand, he tugs the hood up to his nose and guides you into a wet, filthy kiss. You’re desperate for the distraction, licking the taste of iron and cigarette from his sharp canines.

With you distracted, you don’t notice his hand sneaking down again until his thumb is massaging your clit. You nearly jump out of your skin, only kept in place by his quick reflexes and unyielding strength.

“Hush, little one,” he murmurs against your jaw, “I am helping. Let me play with your pretty cock.”

You moan into his mouth as he works circles into that swollen bundle of nerves. It eases the discomfort of his cock sliding into you until you drop that last, mind-blowing inch and he’s bottomed out.

“Fuck, Schatz,” he groans, head tilting back, mouth parted.

You squeeze around him, so full it feels like he’s in your throat. He’s still rubbing your clit, making your walls pulse around him with every delicious swipe of his thumb.

“Come now, time to bounce, Hase.”

Despite his words, he’s the one bouncing you up and down, your legs barely able to support your weight. You could swear you feel every ridge and vein of the cock stretching you and it’s too much for your fucked out brain. All you can do is hold onto him, tears pricking your eyes. You’re not even upset when you feel his tongue licking them from your cheeks, can only shove your tongue in his mouth to get a taste.

He twitches up to meet your hips on the next thrust and you go cross-eyed at the angle – too good too goodtoogood.

You’re begging and whining, completely gone on ecstasy, grinding down on his lap every time you drop down. It’s loud and wet, something out of your dirtiest dreams. He’s fucking against your g-spot, bullying it, abusing it, and you can’t get enough, rolling your hips with each movement.

“I-I’m gonna, I’m gonna—”

“Milk my cock, scream for me, that’s it.”

And you do, shuddering and squeezing so tight around him that he makes a rough, punched out noise. He doesn’t stop as wave after wave washes over you, until you finally wail his name and go limp. Buried deep inside you, he cums without remorse in long, hot spurts against your walls.

In the aftermath, you’re panting and sweaty. Utterly ruined. Brain not quite online due to three back-to-back orgasms from a man who could probably kill you with two fingers. He’s mumbling in your ear, stroking your back. It’s almost pleasant. Maybe he isn’t so bad…

“Now, then. We will go to dinner like a proper couple.”

What happened to being friends?!

[daisynik7]

imma hit you with a twofer: extra smooth by aaliyah with geto...and gimme more by brittany spears with kishibe

Extra Smooth

Pairing: Suguru Geto x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.0k

cw: next-door neighbor Geto who is kind of an asshole, shy reader, smut – PIV sex (doggy style), cunnilingus, sex without a condom, sex toy use

Summary: Your next-door neighbor is loud, inconsiderate, and unfortunately, very hot. No matter how many times you bang on his door with another new noise complaint, he’ll continue to repeat his offenses nearly every weekend. You’re too timid to submit a formal complaint to the landlord, so you shrug it off, hoping that one day, he’ll suddenly become nice. That day comes sooner than you think, when he unexpectedly makes a visit to your apartment, discovering the real reason you need your peace and quiet.

Author’s Note: @demonwoman Mephisto! I LOVE this song and Aaliyah, honestly this was so perfect for Geto. Thank you for requesting a two-fer for the y2k karaoke party! I’ll post the Kishibe one soon. Had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you have just as much fun reading it! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciating, thank you for reading! MDNI divider by @/cafekitsune.

part 1 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

Even with your headphones in, music on high, you can still hear the loud bass reverberating through the shared wall of your apartment. You remove one of the buds in your ear to press it to the plaster, listening carefully to your neighbor having another party next door. Rolling your eyes, you save the document on your screen before shutting your laptop closed, quickly putting on a pair of mismatched sweatpants and sweater. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to go over to Suguru Geto’s apartment to ask him to lower the volume. You did it last weekend, and the one before that, even twice last month. It isn’t fun for you to be that person, but the intense bass that rattles your bedroom walls really is distracting. You thought that after the first two times you complained, he would be more conscious of it. Nope, still noisy and obnoxious as ever. The problem is you’re too chicken shit to make a formal complaint to your landlord. Of course he isn’t taking it seriously, not from his timid, home-body neighbor next door. Why should he when it’s only you that it’s bothering? 

You slide into your fuzzy slippers and make your way out into the hallway, closing the door shut behind you. A few steps and you’re in front of Geto’s, knocking three times. You can hear people chatting and laughing from inside, not responding. You wait another couple of seconds before forcefully pounding on the door with your fist, finally getting a reaction. The chatter hushes and soon, he reveals himself, answering the door with a tight grin on his face, clearly annoyed. “What can I do for you, neighbor?” he grits through his teeth, still maintaining a forced smile. 

You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly insecure in his presence. There’s no denying it; he’s an attractive man, tall and lean beneath tight-fitting clothes. Long, black hair drapes down his back, a portion of it wrapped in a loose bun, loose strands falling before his handsome face. And sure, maybe sometimes he crosses your mind while you’re in your bedroom, playing with the toys you have currently hidden away in your nightstand. But that’s as far as it goes: fantasy. In reality, your next-door neighbor is an asshole.

“Could you please lower the volume of your music? It’s really loud.” You decide not to bring up the other incidents from the past, not wanting to aggravate the situation any further. 

He grins at you, disingenuous, definitely irritated, but trying not to show it. “Sure. I can do that. Anything else?”

You shake your head, muttering a quiet, “Thanks.” You glance at the people inside, who stare at you, snickering to each other.  

“Nice slippers, by the way,” he taunts, before slamming the door shut. There’s an uproar of laughter from inside, and you retreat back into your home, irked by his attitude. It’s not that hard to be considerate of others, right? So why is he making this so much more difficult than it needs to, making you feel like the asshole? You shake it off, trying not to let it bother you. He actually does lower the volume, so you’re satisfied, despite the unnecessary insults you hear from the other side. God she’s so lame. She’s home alone on a Friday night, what do you expect?

With another roll of your eyes, you open your laptop, resuming where you left off. Your fingers type away at the keys fluidly, your concentration regained, hating yourself a little bit for what you’re about to type, especially after what just happened:

Yeah, you want this cock, don’t you?

Been hungry for it this entire time, huh?

[clothing rustling]

Well, go ahead. Come get it. Use me like you’ve always wanted to. 

[spits into hand, starts stroking his cock]

I’ll be a good neighbor to you from now on. The very best.

~~~

You finish the script past midnight, falling asleep before you get a chance to proofread and edit it. There’s no title yet, though you have a vague idea of what you want it to be. Saturdays, you’re usually out with friends throughout the day, so you decide to finish the rest of it once you’re back home from dinner tonight. Before you leave, you type a quick title at the top of the page: [M4F] Your Hot Asshole Neighbor Finally Decides to Be Nice to You. 

This isn’t the first script you’ve written. Last month, you tried your hand at it and it got picked by one of your favorite nsfw voice actors. The thrill of hearing their deep voice moaning the words you wrote motivated you enough to work on another. The commission payment is an added bonus. With your full-time job occupying your week, weekends are the only free time you have to write, especially Friday nights. That’s why you need your concentration; and that’s why Geto’s loud music bothers you so much. You can’t completely hate him, though. After all, he’s the inspiration behind this latest piece, though you will never admit that to him. Ever. In fact, this entire gig you’re doing is a secret only for you to harbor. Not even your closest friends are aware that you’re doing this as a hobby. 

The document sits temporarily forgotten on your laptop while you galivant with your besties throughout the day. After a delicious dinner together, they drop you off to your apartment, where pour yourself a glass of white wine to sip on in your pajamas while you edit your naughty script at the dining table. 

You’ve read it twice through, starting from the top for a third review when there’s a knock on your door. You check your phone, searching for a text from a friend who might be stopping by, but you see none. Confused, you tip toe in your fuzzy slippers to look through the peephole, surprised to see Geto standing on the other side. 

You open the door, greeting him hesitantly. “Um, hi.”

He nods, hands in his pockets, giving you a quick scan before speaking. “Hey. I, uh, locked myself out. The landlord isn’t going to be back until an hour or so and I’m too cheap to call a locksmith right now. Is it cool if I just hang out in here while I wait?”

You consider this carefully, still in disbelief that this happening. You can’t just kick him to the curb and refuse, especially when it’ll only be for a short while. Deciding to let bygones be bygones, you agree to help him, opening the door wider to let him through. 

“Thank you,” he mutters, stepping inside. “Do you want me to take my shoes off?”

“Yes. I think I have some slippers for you. I’ll be right back.” You rush to your bedroom, searching for a pair of slides that he can use in the meantime. It takes a while to find them, buried under a pile of junk in your closet. Before you head out to meet him, you quickly put a bra on, acutely aware that he might have caught sight of your nipples peeking through the thin layer of your shirt. It doesn’t matter, though; he doesn’t think of you in like that anyways. You’re just his lame, lonely neighbor next door, right?

You return, looking towards the couch, expecting to see him sitting there. To your horror, you catch him at the dining table, seated where you previously were before he arrived, staring at your laptop screen. 

“Hey!” You hustle towards him, slamming it shut with enough force to rattle the table. 

He glances at you, cheeks red, an odd expression on his face. “What was that?” he asks, pointing to the computer. 

You snatch it away, storing it in one of the kitchen drawers, desperate to hide it as if the damage hasn’t already been done. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

He stands up, lips parted, trying to find the words to say. “That was…I’m pretty sure it said…Is that about me?”

Your skin is sweltering now, beyond freaked out and unsure how to fix this mess. Is it better to lie and try to chalk it up as one big joke? Or should you be honest and hope he’s understanding about it? Either way, there’s no turning the clock back. He’s already read something, and it’s not going to be leaving his mind anytime soon. 

You decide to tell him the truth, as best as you can explain it. “Okay, I know it’s weird, but I write these types of scripts for voice actors to perform. It’s just a little part-time hobby I have, and I even get paid for it. Sure, it’s a little risqué, but it’s nothing illegal, okay?” He continues to stare at you, expression relaxing just the slightest bit. 

“Also, it’s not about you. Maybe it’s a little bit inspired by you, but it’s definitely not about you. Not exactly,” you add, uncertainty laced in your voice. This is even more mortifying than you expected it to be. Is it too late to break the lease on your rent and move across town?

It’s quiet for what seems like forever. He doesn’t respond, contemplating your explanation silently to himself. Eventually, he takes a couple steps towards you, reaching behind to slide the drawer open, pulling your laptop out. You’re frozen, stunned by his close proximity, anticipating his next move. Finally, he says, “I want to read the rest of it.”

“What?”

He smirks, tension easing from his shoulders as he sits down, taking a swig from your wine glass. “I want to finish it. It was getting good before you stopped me.” He opens your laptop screen, the document appearing exactly where he left off. 

You bury your face in your hands, taking the seat beside him, groaning. “I can’t believe this is happening right now.” You refill your glass almost to the brim with wine, taking a large gulp of it before passing it to him. 

“Did you really think you could keep something like this a secret? This is pretty wild,” he chuckles, tipping it into his mouth, at the same spot where you did.

“I didn’t think you’d be the first person to find out, though.” You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for whatever is about to unravel from this. 

“Fair enough.” He scans the words, reading each one meticulously. “So are these lines supposed to be, like, what the voice actor says? It’s just them talking?”

“Yup.”

He giggles, blushing. “Okay, so, we’re pretending that I’m the asshole neighbor. Got it. Are you sure this isn’t about me?”

“It’s inspired by you. Inspired,” you reiterate, swallowing a large gulp of alcohol. 

He bites his lip, hiding his smile. “Okay. Um, so it says here in the bracket that there’s knocking.”

“That’s the cue for sound effects.”

“Got it. So,” Geto knocks thrice on the surface of the dining table, reading, “What can I do for you, neighbor? Oh, you want me to turn the volume down? Is it too loud for you again? This is totally about me!”

You can’t help but laugh, shrugging. “Maybe it’s a little bit about you.”

He hides his smile behind his hand, swearing under his breath. “Shit, okay.” He clears his throat before continuing. “I’m sorry for being so noisy these past few weeks. Do you think you could ever forgive me? Do people really get off on lines like this?” 

“Just keep reading it!” you yell at him, playfully kicking him beneath the table.

“Okay, okay! Ahem. I think I know exactly what I can do to make it up to you. I know you like me, even though I’m such an asshole. Think you can forgive me for just one night?”

You clench your thighs together, concealing the arousal growing between your legs. You’ve always thought he had a sexy voice but paired with the script and knowing what’s about to come, it’s hard to control your desires.

His voice is hushed now, low and sultry. “Yeah? That’s what I thought. You want this cock, don’t you?” Geto swallows thickly, pausing to catch his breath. “Been hungry for it this entire time, huh?” There’s a blush in his cheeks again. He shifts in his seat, hands down at his lap. “Well, go ahead. Come get it. Use me like you’ve always wanted to. Whoa, okay, this is…this is getting a little crazy now,” he chuckles nervously, avoiding your gaze. 

Unable to resist your curiosity, you glimpse at his crotch, an obvious bulge protruding from his sweatpants, stunned that he’s hard right now. Without thinking, you scoot closer to him, placing your hand on his knee. He meets your gaze, eyes wide, lips parted. 

“If you want to, we can stop,” you whisper, fingers trailing his inner thigh delicately. You can’t deny it any longer. You want him. You’ve always wanted him. And if he didn’t feel the same, he would have already been gone by now, too weirded out by your strange hobby to stick around. Yet, here he is, playing along with it, playing along with you. 

You wait for his answer, resting your hand dangerously near his erection strained in his pants. “I don’t want to stop,” he says, spreading his legs wider for you. “l want to be a good neighbor to you from now on. The very best.”

~~~

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he pants, stripping his clothes off hastily as you watch him, already naked on your bed. When he’s finished, he hovers over you, relishing the sight of you beneath him. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a passionate kiss, tongues swirling around each other’s sloppily. “You’re sure you want to keep going?” you ask between smooches. 

He laughs, sucking on your bottom lip. “I’m not stopping this for anything. Are you sure you want to keep going?”

You nod at him, guiding his hands to your breasts. “Absolutely.”

He pinches your nipples until they’re perky and you’re whining in ecstasy, rutting your hips against him, desperate for friction. He slides down, leaving a trail of kisses along your body until he’s at your arousal, tongue lapping at your clit. You squeeze his head between your thighs, his mouth pressed firmly to your cunt, slurping at your juices. “Fuck, Geto. Feels so good.”

“Suguru,” he muffles, lips latched to your swelling bud. “Call me Suguru.”

You run your fingers through his hair as he eats you out, tugging at the strands when you reach your first orgasm, gushing all over his face. He licks you slowly as you come down from your high, flicking the tip of his tongue on your sensitive bud. He reaches down to stroke his cock, stiff in his fist and leaking with precum. “Fuck, you taste amazing. So fucking pretty when I eat out this sloppy cunt. Can I fuck you now, sweetheart? I want to make you come around my cock.”

You roll over in bed, spreading your ass cheeks for him. “Yeah, fuck me, Suguru. Fuck this wet cunt.”

He wipes the sweat beading on his forehead, jerking his cock feverishly in his other hand. “Fuck, I knew you were a slut, I just knew it,” he huffs, slapping his dick on your ass, rubbing it slowly between the soft flesh of your cheeks. He guides himself inside you, stretching you out little by little until you swallow him up completely. He starts thrusting, his motions extra smooth from your previous orgasm. “All those nights, I listened to you touch yourself with those vibrators. I’d stroke my cock with you, come whenever you did. Your little whimpers are so fucking sexy, especially when you try to hide them. You have no idea what you do to me.”

You’re too fucked out to process his confession, throwing your ass in tandem with his thrusts. His grip is tight on your waist, fucking you like you’ve never been fucked before. Suddenly, he pulls out, pussy fluttering around nothing, eager to be stuffed gain. You whine, craning your neck to glare at him while he gives you a naughty smirk, reaching for your nightstand. “Are they in here? Your toys?” He searches it blindly, retrieving one of your favorites, clicking the button to activate it, buzzing in his hold. “Use it while you use me.” 

You obey his request without question, holding the vibrator against your sensitive clit as he pushes himself back inside you, pounding away at your cunt. You climax twice more around him, completely spent now, brain like mush, letting the toy fall off the bed, slippery with your cum. He laughs at your docile expression, pulling out to bury his face back into your pussy, licking off all the cum smeared over you, determined to make you come again. When you do, he crawls up the bed, a satisfied smile on his face, straddling you while he pumps his cock in his fist. After a couple strokes, he shoots onto your tits, covering them in his pearly cum, moaning your name. 

He helps you clean it off, grabbing several tissues from the nightstand, wiping your chest dry. You scoot closer to the wall to make room for him, snuggling beside you with his mouth grazing your forehead, giving you a smooch. 

Thinking logically again, you recall his confession from earlier. “Can you really hear me through these walls?”

He chuckles. “Yeah. But only if I’m listening really carefully.”

“And did you really…?”

“Yeah. I did,” he admits, blushing. “Sorry. I guess I’m kind of a pervert.”

You giggle, nuzzling into his chest. “Well, what does that make me then? Who’s the one who wrote filthy scenarios about you?”

“I thought you said it was only inspired by me?” he teases, cuddling you closer. 

“It was totally about you, okay? I just never thought it’d actually happen.”

He massages your back lovingly. “Aren’t you glad it did?”

You peer up to smile at him. “Yeah. I am.”

~~~

The following weekend, there’s another noise complaint. This time, however, it’s you receiving it from your neighbor on the other side, complaining about how loud you and Geto are while having sex.  

[affableramen]

suitable for: dottore, pantalone, ayato || geto suguru, sukuna, nanami kento || dr. ratio, sugilite, sunday, luocha

slight tsundere character x tsundere reader dynamics + any of your condescending/dominant aura favs

“I dislike it when people who have more power than others use it so bluntly to put them low. You’re disgusting.”

“Oh, you think so? Then why don’t you fight me now?” He throws your weapon to the ground near to your feet. “Don’t be a coward and fight me.”

Just when you grab the weapon he shoves you against the wall and steps back, as if giving you some space to think your strategy and prepare to strike (or defend).

“You are even more pathetic than me!” You raise your weapon, but your powers meet. The elemental energies of the both of you… too strong, too emotional… no, they’re rather filled with negative emotions. Your spirits meet and create a blast. The both of you fall back, yet he gets up sooner, faster that you and presses you against the wall, gripping your hands together.

“Someone’s walking on a thin ice. Don’t you know who you’re speaking to? You’re but a little annoying weakling, causing trouble here and there for me.” He presses his forefinger against your cheek. “A brat who gets on my nerves so frequently I lose my mind.”

You block a series or his merciless, furious attacks.

“Damn you! Do you even realise your place, you fool? I’m a gooddamn (—)! You should be bowing at my… mmm—” his lips close around yours, “…feet.”

The kiss is rough, dominating, but sweet at the same time. It is hot, but loving. The coldness is absent, leaving space for emotion, sacred tenderness and burning desire all at once to fit in one room. His grip closes ‘round your waist getly, you feel the heat spread through your body. You grip his hair, scratch his neck. You protest.

“Mmm!”

No… It’s not a protest. Before kissing him back you bite his lip. Painfully, but in a way that bluntly shows your earnestness. His voice breaks, he moans into the kiss, sensitive to your burning touch. Take his hair in your grip once again - and he’ll shatter into a million pieces.

“Fuck you”, you say but keep kissing him.

He moans and grunts against your lips, his tongue seeking entrance rudely, decisively, as if it’s the only time he can do that with you ever. He is so desperate, he fears, he is trembling. 

“Look at yourself… swearing at a (harbinger/sorcerer/king of the curses/etc)”, still pinning you against the wall he almost tastes your flesh as his tongue smoothly runs down your chin, later - your neck. “Freaking gonna eat you.”

You grip his hair just firmer once he attacks your neck.

“You get me so worked up, and you barely even did anything, you little minx.”

“Do not kiss there - it’s embarrassing!” You shout at him but you do not mean it, no, not at all. 

“Where should I kiss you then, hm? Tell me.”

His rings and gloves are cold to the touch, the metal grazing over your neck brings shivers down your spine. You’re speechless.

“Oh, baby….”

And just when his tongue stops licking your neck after you asked him, his hands slide to your hips.

“Mmm… Delectable”, he squeezes your butt, your eyes widen and you shake with irritation. 

An instant pull on his hair signals for him to not go past the line. He unwillingly returns his hands to your waist and up, to your back. 

“Sorry, I touched where I wasn't supposed to.”

“You idiot…”

He laughs bitterly and tastes the aftermath of your kiss on his lips. He wishes you would leave marks on his neck, but not this time, probably. You were too shy, too bashful, while he decided to take it all. 

“Ahem…” he clears his throat, the affection almost completely vanishes into a professional look. A look of someone who is not entirely your friend. “Our fight isn't over. This isn't the end. The next time we meet, I will most certainly crush you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Be ready, little minx.”

When he leaves in the gloomy shadow of the dusk, you finally allow yourself to touch your own lips - where he was touching. How utterly pleasant and captivating. To consume you in one go, but leave a lingering feeling of gentleness and affection marked on your body and mind. Perhaps, the next time you fight, you won't let him go.

divider: @anitalenia

taglist: @silverstardream , @shirenui , @lavandulawrites , @orphic-musings , @sagyunaro , @mienroe , @minichampagne , @ichikai3 , @venicecherryblossom

[rogueddie]

A Spot in My Life T | 953 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is keeping a spare sweater or blanket in the car because they always get cold

Steve Harrington is a bitch.

It's something that Eddie knew, all through high school, but he had thought that Steve had somehow became a new person- thanks to the Upside Down and constantly almost seeing the world end.

Steve isn't a bad guy, he can admit. He's still trying to keep an eye on everyone, make sure they're ok, even checking in with Eddie in his own way.

But he's very sly about it, hiding it being playful jabs, eye rolls and cocked hips.

It rubs him the wrong way. And it's only made worse by how much Eddie still likes him. It's as if the bitchiness only draws him in more, even as it makes his chest burn with irritation.

He tries to avoid Steve for as long as he can. He knows that finally befriending him like they both want will only end badly, but he knows he can't resist the temptation.

He enjoys the time before as much as he can, reveling in how often Steve will try to corner him so they can hang out, how much he whines and pleads and pushes. He enjoys the illusion that Steve could feel anything for him like he does for Steve.

And, when they finally do hang out, his fears are confirmed.

Steve is amazing. He's funnier than he comes across as at first too. He pays attention to what Eddie says and tries to get him anything he wants.

He's the type of friend that anyone would fight for, Eddie is sure. It explains how he ended up so popular in high school too.

If Eddie had known what Steve is truly like, he'd have been lining up for a scrap of his attention like everyone else.

"They're assholes," Steve explains, when Eddie finally asks about his old lackeys. "Tommy always took shit a step too far. I didn't need them. Probably shouldn't have befriended them in the first place."

"They were your friends," Eddie reminds him.

Steve sighs, leaning back. "Yeah, I guess. Just wish I'd realised sooner, how they were getting."

He never complains about the kids, not genuinely. In the quiet moments, when Steve is honest with an almost painful degree of vulnerability, he talks about how amazing the kids are. He talks about how honored he is to be friends with Dustin.

It only makes Eddies feelings inch ever closer to 'the L word'.

"You should talk to him," Robin suggests. "He really is amazing."

"I know, but... guys that are ok with lesbians still get weird about gay men, you know?"

"Yeah, but Steve isn't like that. Did he ever tell you the full story of how I came out to him?"

"It was after the Russian torture drugs, right?"

"We were in the bathroom, near the cinema. I thought we might have puked it all up, so we decided to test it, ask each other questions. So, I asked him if he was ever in love..."

"Oh... oh no."

"Oh yes. He liked me, told me so, and that's when I came out to him."

"Holy shit, Robin."

"But that's my point. He was a little surprised, sure, but he started making jokes, like, immediately. Didn't phase him at all. He got with it immediately. We're just friends, and that's not a problem for him."

Eddie groans, throwing his head back so it thumps into the wall behind him. "But that just makes him more hot!"

The story plagues his mind, to the point that it's the only thing he can think about when he picks Steve up for their next hang out.

In the dead of winter, Steve feels the cold worse than anyone else that Eddie knows. He runs hot, and the sudden temperature drops brings out the worse in him.

He's shivering when he climbs into Eddie's car.

"Fuck, why isn't your heating on?" He whines.

"It's broke," Eddie reminds him. "It's fine, don't worry."

"Don't worry? I'm gonna get hypothermia, Eddie! I don't want to turn into an ice sc- what is that?"

He takes the blanket that Eddie had reached back to grab, staring at it.

"It's a blanket."

"No shit, I mean... it's yellow."

"Yeah? You like yellow."

"You got this for me?"

"You see anyone else shivering in my van?"

"No, it..." Steve pauses, glancing at Eddie before slowly wrapping the blanket around himself. "Sorry, uh... thank you. This is, um, nice."

"it's nothing."

"It's not. Just- take the thanks, Ed."

"Alright, alright."

They're silent for the rest of the drive. It's so unusual for them that it has Eddie nervous, glancing at Steve every other moment.

When they finally pull to a stop, Eddie turns to Steve, who stays where he is. He stares out the front window for a moment, before turning to face Eddie.

"Are you alright?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, I am. Enjoying the warmth."

"That all?"

"... yeah."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "You're a terrible liar."

"Wh- hey, I'm a good liar!" He tries to glare, but quickly backs down with a huff. "Alright, fine, but it's really sappy! Don't say I didn't warn you!"

"Oh, no, the horror."

"Shut up. I was just thinking about how, like... there's so many little things in your life that are for me. My tapes in your room, spare clothes in your closet, this blanket... I really appreciate it, man. You've made space for me in your life. It means a lot to me."

"Oh, right. That's... yeah. Of course, Steve. You're always welcome. I love- uh... spending time with you."

"Good. I love spending time with you too."

"Good."

"Great."

Steve's smile is wide and goofy. He's sure that his own is just as cheesy.

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

500 Followers = 500 Words Event: Felix

*for some reason I think that ring is the kind of ring felix would get his fiancee.

-> Pairing: Lee Felix x GF!Reader

-> Requested by: @staytiny2000

-> Prompt:  No. 24 - Drunk Confessions: “I think we should get married. Should we get married? We should totally get married.” 

-> Warnings: A drunken attempt at a proposal. Drunk Felix. Y/N gets called Noona by I.N.

-> Word Count: 551

-> Requests: Closed

-> Tag List: Open. Send me an ask or fill out this form - Tag List Form.

500 Words Event M.List | Felix Masterlist | Stray Kids Masterlist

Y/N swings the door open, irritation bubbling up at the late-night visitor for interrupting her peaceful slumber. She’d just gotten home from work an hour ago. But as she sees Seungmin and Jeongin struggling to support a tipsy Felix, her annoyance melts away. 

"Sorry, Noona," Jeongin apologizes, looking guilty knowing she had worked late tonight. It was the reason she wasn't able to join them for the sunshine twin’s birthday celebration. She has something planned for just the two of them tomorrow. "He was refusing to go back to the dorms with us. Said the sooner he can be home the sooner he can spend time with you." 

"He also lost his key," Seungmin adds. The two younger men had stayed sober because they have separate schedules tomorrow. "That's why we had to knock."  

"Oops," Felix giggles drunkenly, finding humor in his own mistake. 

Y/N chuckles softly, shaking her head. "You’re lucky I’m not sending you back to the dorms to sleep it off," She steps aside, gesturing for them to come in.  

As they shuffle inside, Y/N closes the door behind them and follows them into the bedroom. She watches as Seungmin and Jeongin not-so-gently drops Felix onto the bed, his laughter echoing in the dimly lit room. The sight of him, with his long-tousled platinum hair and slightly flushed freckled cheeks, brings a smile to her face. She can’t help but feel amused by the trio. 

“You better not let me get like this on my birthday,” she overhears Seungmin say to Jeongin, his birthday being a week away.  

After Jeongin nods in agreement, he turns to Y/N. "Do you want us to help get him into bed?"  

"I think I can handle it from here," she replies confidently. "Thanks for making sure he got home safe,” she adds as she walks them to the front door. "Enjoy the rest of your night." 

"We'll try," Jeongin shudders at the thought of dealing with his other drunk Hyung's but puts on a smile. 

After exchanging goodnights, Y/N closes the door and locks it before heading to the kitchen to grab some hangover remedies and a couple of bottles of water. When she returns to the bedroom, she finds Felix curled up on his side of the bed, eyes closed and breathing steady, making her think he’s already passed out. She places the stuff she grabbed from the kitchen on his bedside table before climbing back into bed. 

Just as she’s about to drift back to sleep, Felix’s voice, deep but somehow soft at the same time, fills the quiet room. “I think we should get married. Should we get married? We should totally get married.” 

Y/N opens her eyes, looking at her boyfriend with surprise only to find his eyes are still closed and his breathing calm. She can't tell if he's awake or sleep talking. Her heart races hearing him admit out loud that he wants to marry her. They haven't had an actual conversation about marriage yet but they both had been leaving hints that it is something that they both desire.  

"Maybe this is a conversation we should have when you're sober," she says quietly, unsure if he could even here her. 

He pouts, his next words, surprising her even further, “But I already have the ring.” 

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[one-piece-aus]

What would marriage life would be like with the seven warlords?

This is an old anon request, I do apologize for not getting to it sooner but here we go

What Marriage Life Would Be Like With the Seven Warlords (Headcanons)

It's pretty chill being married to Mihawk

Y'all just vibe in a mansion on an isolated island

I imagine Mihawk is a person of quality time and acts of service so the two of you would often spend time together

Whether it's reading in your library or cooking dinner for each other, every moment you do together and action you do for him is cherished in Mihawk's heart, even if he doesn't mention it

He makes sure you're healthy and well (eating properly, making sure you get your sleep)

This man will be able to instantly tell if your state is the slightest bit off and will not hesitate to voice his concern

He is not opposed to having children, the idea might amuse him

In fact, after Zoro and Perona had made their appearance, Mihawk grew fond of the idea taking care of his own child, even if they would be irritating at times

Btw, Zoro and Perona think you two act like an old married couple ❤

Only way this would be possible is if you are someone like Luffy

She might not understand exactly what marriage life means but she will do her best to make you happy

She is going to cook for you and feed you

She will bathe you and make sure you have the best clothes to wear

And she will order the best doctors to bring you back to your best health if you get sick

She is taking ✨amazing✨ care of you

The two of you are just living the life of luxury regardless of where you choose to live because you two are together and happy

You will not have kids (for a number of reasons that I will not get into because this is supposed to be a fun post)

Alright, I had no idea what to do for Moria so I asked @ask-the-night-crowl for these headcanons, thank you again Snugs

In a marriage, Moria would totally rely on his partner to fulfill all the duties he has/ should be responsible for. Granted, the other mysterious four already take over most of those, but someone has to keep them all in check.

His spouse better not be aversed by his crew, because for as much as he says he doesn't care about these idiots, he would also face death to protect them.

Unless him and his s/o have known eachother for a pretty long time, he'll try to keep them at an arm's length. Not necessarily because they don't have good enough of a connection, but the idea of loss is always on his mind.

He doesn't mind affection. In fact, he'll back-handedly seek it out by annoying his s/o until they give him attention if he so desires. He's pretty much like an oversized cat.

On the other hand, you'll also have to be prepared not to see him for days on end, because of his sleeping habits (Again, like a cat).

But in that time, cuddling with him is totally fine, because once that man is out, he sleeps like a rock.

His frequent nightmares might lead to the conclusion that comforting him would be the answer. But he hates the idea of being treated as weak as that and would much rather appreaciate the mere presence of his s/o when he wakes up next to them.

In contrast, he'll offer the same to his s/o when they feel down and would have an immediate (even petty) grudge against anyone harming them.

Staying in with him at a fireplace, drinking fancy wines and making fun of the other warlords would be his favorite way to spend time when he's awake for once.

If the spouse is good at cooking, you can bet they'll become his personal chef - after all, love goes through the stomach amirite.

If you're marrying Doffy, his family comes as a package deal, you can't have him without it, that being said, he expects you to get along with them (you can tolerate them instead but just don't let him notice)

Of course, he will expect you to take care of Baby 5, Buffalo, and Dellinger as if they were your children, he is open to making blood offsprings, but never put them before him

Doffy is your number 1 priority, whatever he says goes

But just because he's demanding doesn't mean he won't show you affection, in fact, most of his demands is just him wanting to give or receive affection

You are showed in gifts and luxury, he is the king of Dressrosa afterall, your word has every weight as his own since your are his queen

He is proud to show off his spouse, you are his most prized possession after all

However, you are more than just a trophy, after the loss of his dear mother and brother, he holds you close and tells you how dear you are to him every night

You are often woken up in the middle of the night due to his rustling from nightmares, just hold him to calm him down

Crocodile keeps you in the dark about his work, for all you know, he is a casino owner in Alabasta that keeps the people safe from pirates since he's a warlord

He takes you out for a stroll around in the evening, outside to admire the stars, or in the casino where your every need is met

He doesn't show affection in public but his gestures do show you belong to him and no one else

He keeps you company in bed at night until you fall asleep but when you wake up, he is not there, he's working as always

When see him next, he'll have a gift for you, an apology for not being able to always be around as he is a very busy man, but he'll make it up to you

I imagine it would be comfortable, like little cottage in nature kind of comfy

You both would wake up in the morning with a nice cup of tea

Your place would be clean and organized

You'd receive lots of comforting hugs and cuddles

Life would be peaceful

Until strawhat crew comes knocking on your door

Don't quite have any ideas for Kuma so... This is end, I hope you enjoy anon, and thank you for requesting

[darylsdelts]

Hi! Could you write a Daryl x f.reader hc in the mornings? I feel like slow mornings would be Daryl's favorite time of day, just enjoying his partner without having to think about the day ahead..

P.S: how did you not start writing sooner?? I love how your pretty brain brings our delusions to life lol

I’m gonna do the smaller request’s first so that they don’t pile up because having loads of requests makes me anxious😭 idk why but I’m getting to em all!

Anon!!! I love this so much! I love domestic daddy Daryl so much like yes! Idc what anyone says, he’s sooooo husband! And alsooooo… TYSM! I’m not really a writer😭 I didn’t intend to actually write on here but people started sending full on essays for me to write so why not. I did write some stuff on Wattpad though that I could post here??? If y’all want??? Anywayyyyyssss ily!

I always imagine these sorta things with you and Daryl in a secluded cabin, away from the community. You’re still part of the group but you and Daryl prefer to be alone together.

Living away from the community, Daryl is like a different person, he’s way more relaxed and less on guard. Less irritated by people too.

The sunlight seeps through the cracks in the curtains in the early mornings.

Daryl usually wakes up first but if he doesn’t then you shift closer, resting your chin on his bare chest and admiring his sleeping face.

His hair framing his relaxed face, he looks younger when he’s sleeping, your favourite part is how his rounded nose twitches when he starts to wake up.

As soon as he opens his eyes, you feel his chest vibrate as he hums, bringing his hand up to push a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What’d I tell ya ‘bout starin’, Hm?”

His lips twitch upward, he fucking loves the mornings when it’s so peaceful and it’s just him and you, like the world doesn’t really exist.

“I think you told me to quit it”

He chuckles, rubbing his thumb across your forehead.

Daryl thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, especially when your hair is messy from sleep and you’re in barely any clothes.

There’s no doubt that every morning, his mind drifts to thinking about staying in bed with you all day, worshipping your body and making you feel good.

And that fantasy is almost always thrown out the window when the both of you hear paws enter the room, dog jumping up on the bed, licking at Daryls face.

“Dog! Jesus chri-… yeah, okay okay, good boy”

After getting out of bed, Daryl pulling on just his jeans that sit low on his waist and you in a thin night dress, you both go to the kitchen area.

Daryl feeds dog so he stops whining and then he’ll cook up something he hunted and serve it to you.

You’re greatful for your hunterman, taking such good care of you.

Even after being together all these years, Daryl still gets shy, sitting opposite you whilst eating, barely able to make eye contact.

Some mornings, if it was hot enough, you’d go swim in the lake with dog whilst Daryl would watch over the both of you. He’s not greatly fond of swimming in the lake since he wouldn’t be able to protect you as well as he could from the side.

“Can we go to the lake?” You ask as Daryl takes your plates.

“Ya wanna? Ain’t so hot out today, darlin’”

“I wanna”

He’d roll his eyes, he could never say no to you.

He’d sit on the bank next to the lake, watching you in just your panties and bra, swimming around in the water with dog.

After you get out you’d complain that it’s too cold and he’d bite his tongue, he did tell you so.

He’d wrap you in a towel and leave you shivering whilst he towels dog off.

“Shouldn’ta let ya go in the damn water, yer gon’ get sick”

You’d pout as you shiver, Daryl wraps his arms round you, kissing the top of your hair.

“Let’s get ya inside, warm my girl up”

You have a feeling you know what he means.

This isn’t even really hc’s 😭 full on story I’m sorry but I always get so carried away.

[number1jeonginstan]

HEYYY

My first time sending in an ask as an anon to you...sorry I haven't sooner.

Can we have a skz fluff (as your bf-established relationship) reacts to girlfriend who is a dancer (preferably ballet but if it's hard to write for if you don't do it, it can be general) who overworks herself trying to get something right, but she just can't get it and is getting irritated? Possible angst if some of the argumentative boys wanna argue her instead of comfort.

TYSM AND I LUV UR WORK

A/N: I’m so glad I could write for you!!! I really hope you like it, I tried doing my research and using my amazing ballet skills (aka watching the Nut Cracker since I was little) to try and describe it more!

WC: 1.4k

Warnings: None, just fluff and a bit of angst, but everything gets resolved!

Chan: 

You were in your studio, trying to perfect a sissone sur le point, and you kept messing up. As you slid onto your pointe, you kept slipping and you were frustrated. As you tried again, you fell to the ground, eliciting a groan from your lips. 

You had been at it for a while, barely taking a break to even drink a sip of water. You had no idea truly how long it had been as the only window in the studio was secluded. It wasn’t until you heard a knock on the door. “What!” you yelled, still frustrated from not getting it. 

“Y/N, are you okay? You’ve been in here for 4 hours.” It was then when you registered truly how long you’ve been practicing for. “Oh, I didn’t realize” you sighed, finally taking a sip of your water. “You can’t be doing this, it’s not healthy” he sighed kissing your forehead. 

“I don’t really think you should be talking Channie, you are usually cooped up in your studio working and barely ever sleeping,” your voice coming off a bit more condescending than you meant it to be. 

“Hey, I know I do that, but at least I take a break. You haven’t been on your phone since you entered here, I should know, I texted and called you multiple times.” 

“You did?” you asked, not believing til you checked for yourself. “Yes, now please take a break, eat something with me. You won’t get it unless you take a break and reflect, and get something in your stomach.”

You just nodded, taking his hand as you both exited the studio. You were grateful to have him to make sure you don’t overwork yourself, hugging him from the side and kissing his cheek. 

“What was that for?” he giggled, placing a peck on your lips. “Just because,” you grinned. 

Lee Know: 

You had spent at least two hours in the studio trying to perfect your gargouillade, you were struggling, constantly annoyed by how you were doing it, but it wasn’t looking clean. Again, you told yourself, and you could feel your muscles tensing. You just had to perfect it by the end of the day and make it look clean, but you kept failing. 

You gave up, laying on the floor, tired of exerting your body for two hours straight. Anger was ridden on your face. Minho entered the studio giggling, holding a container filled with japchae for the both of you, only to see the anger on your face. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked, setting down the food next to your bag on the bench. 

“No!” you shouted, still not wanting to get up. “I don’t know why I can’t get it to look good” you groaned, placing your hands on your face. 

“Maybe you need a break, overworking yourself will only make it worse baby,” he said while kissing your head, “not to mention so sweaty.” 

“But I have to get it perfect, I don’t know how you get your dances perfect the first time you try, it’s so unfair.” 

“Y/n, first off I don’t, secondly, I practice a much different medium than you. Yours takes much more core strength, and to build that,” he runs over, bringing the japchae with two forks to you, “is to eat good food.” 

 “Don’t worry, you will get it, I believe in you, now please eat.” He held a fork of the food in front of your face and you caved in, taking a bite as he fed it to you.

Changbin: 

“YAH!” you heard a yell from behind you, “do you know how much you’ve been overworking yourself?” 

Before you could even say anything, Changbin had thrown you over his shoulder, stopping you in the middle doing your hops en pointe. “Put me down!” you yelled, smacking Changbin’s ass in hopes he would. 

“Nope, take a break, your muscles will get too sore if you do this!” He yelled back, placing you in his lap. Before you could protest, he began massaging your calves, eliciting a groan from you. 

“See, I told you your muscles are tense, from now on you should listen to me” he grinned from ear to ear as you just nodded. 

Maybe all you needed was a quick break and a massage from your loving, but loud boyfriend. 

Hyunjin: 

You were on the floor, practicing your arabesque penche, trying to make sure you were not falling or tilting to either side. Your body needed to be stable, and you couldn’t possibly get it down. 

Hyunjin came into the room clapping for you, causing you to fall down. “What was that for!” you yelled, not meaning to raise your voice or your temper.

Hyunjin looked startled by your reaction and profusely apologized. “Shit, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to distract you.”

“No, I’m sorry I’m just really frustrated” you sighed, walking over to him and peppering his face with kisses. “It’s okay, I understand, now go back to dancing, I want to draw you looking beautiful” as he took out his sketchbook and pencil eliciting a giggle from your lips. 

Jisung: 

You were frustrated out of your mind, unable to complete your move properly, making you a bit angry. You just wanted to curl into a ball and never do ballet again at that moment. Han had decided to enter the studio at that exact time. 

He saw you curled up and decided to lie down next you. You didn’t notice he was there until you opened your eyes, flying back to see him. He erupted into a fit of giggles, “I didn’t mean to scare you, baby,”

It caused you to start laughing as well, being next to him while you both erupted into giggles was exactly what you needed to take your mind off of everything.

Felix:

“I can’t do this anymore!” you groaned while Felix came in beside you. “I’ve been trying for hours and I haven’t gotten it down.”

“What if I dance next to you, I bet I would look really good in tights,” Felix said, trying to imagine himself in a pair. “What, you don’t have to do that?” you quickly replied, not wanting him to struggle with you.

“But whatever we do, we do together, right? So come on, let me do this with you, or you can do it perfectly now and we can go home and eat brownies.” 

That was all the motivation you needed to try one more time, and you got it. “Felix, I finally did it!” you shouted, running into his arms. “I told you, you can do anything, you just have to get out of your head at times,” he said, kissing your face with a smile.

Seungmin: 

“If you don’t want to do it anymore, you should just quit. It’s only 16 years of your life down the drain,” Seungmin told you, watching you struggle. 

You had been complaining for hours that you couldn’t get your sissone sur le point to look right. It was too difficult and very few people could do it perfectly. “I can do it, stop bringing me down,” you groaned trying it once again. 

“Come on, you are the one who said you just wanted to quit, so quit.” Seungmin said out loud, trying to get a rise out of you “I don’t know why you are trying if you know you are going to fail anyway.” 

That was all the motivation you needed, you needed to prove him wrong. You had tried once again, finally successfully doing it. “Ha!” you screamed “In your face Kim Seungmin!” 

He just laughed “Finally, now can we please go before we miss our movie?” 

Jeongin: 

“Can I try with you?” he asked. “Are you sure, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You were confused, you were stuck on the same move for days, constantly crying to Jeongin about how you couldn’t get it down. 

“Just show me one more time, please?” 

You did, landing perfectly. “I did it! Wait, WHAT!” you yelled, tingling Jeongin’s eardrums. 

“I told you, sometimes you just have to leave that pretty brain of yours.”  

[yoonkinii]

How y♡u first met Sukuna!

Warning(s): None Requests open! (only for this AU) Masterlist (check for more AU content here!)

Life feels like a dull melody, endlessly looping without change. Each day blurs into the next: wake up, attend college classes until your brain can’t take it, work until your feet throb, return home to study and work some more, then catch a few fleeting hours of sleep. The cycle repeats over and over again, with only minor changes being added to the never-ending routine. 

The air of the store is frigid as you reorganize the frozen food, red vest covering your white long-sleeve uniform shirt. THe fabric irritates your skin, causing an incessant itch, but you had to endure it, knowing that wearing anything else would beckon the wrath of your shift manager. 

Your fingers ache, tinged a faint red from the freezer’s chill. You could have finished a lot sooner were it not for the haphazardly thrown boxes of frozen food, which you have to constantly rearrange in order for them to be in the right places. Every time you thought you were done, another misplaced container catches your eyes, prolonging the task. 

Letting the magnetic door shut with a soft thud, you sighed, shoulder aching from the relentless task of lifting and moving items. Stepping back, you inspected the freezer for any remaining misplaced containers. A wave of relief washing over you when none were in sight. 

“Um, excuse me?”

You turned to the voice beside you, the well-practiced customer service smile automatically appearing on your face. 

“Yes! How may I help you?” 

Your tone was cheerful as you clasped your hands in front of you, looking at the customer. He wore an unfamiliar school uniform, dark blue pants and a button-up sweater with a red hoodie-like trim. It was clear he was in high school based on his attire. His hair, an unusual color cut into an undercut, caught your attention.

He must dye it, you mused, maintaining your smile. As you observe him, you also notice two matching, almost triangular slits under both of his eyes. Perhaps scars or birthmarks? It wasn’t your place to know, so you quickly pushed those thoughts aside. 

“Oh, I was just wondering where the canned sodas were.”

Your mind instantly mapped out the store’s layout, a skill honed from countless hours of restocking. 

“Those are in aisle 5C. I’d be happy to take you there if you’d like.”

The boy’s smile could rival the sun as he nodded eagerly, showering you with ‘thank you’s’ for your help.

That’s how you found yourself in the drink aisle, having an interesting discussion with the young man.

“Yes, but wouldn’t you say Dr. Pepper is better than just plain Cola?”

You hummed in thought, eyeing the vast array of soda crates lining the shelves. “While Dr. Pepper is good, if you’re bringing it to a class party, wouldn’t you want more variety? For example,” ou bent down and pulled out a certain crate of coke. “This pack has a variety of flavors, and some people can’t stand the taste of Dr. Pepper. Are you sure everyone in your class likes it?”

The young boy was silent for a moment, now crouched beside you as he examined the crate. “You have a point.”

“Yuji, what the hell are you doing? I sent you in to get drinks for your class like ten minutes ago.”

Both you and the boy, now known as Yuji, snapped your heads up at the sound of another voice. Yuji stood up immediately, turning to face the source of the interruption. 

“Sorry, Uncle. I was having a hard time deciding,” Yuji apologized, scratching the back of his head. 

You grabbed the crate of soda you had recommended and stood beside Yuji, finally getting a look at the man who had spoken. Suddenly, a loud crash resonated through the aisle as the crate of sodas slipped out of your grasp and landed on your foot, eliciting a string of curses. 

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” Yuji’s voice echoed in your head as you kneeled, cradling your throbbing foot.

Oh my God, he was stunningly handsome. Not Yuji, but the resemblance was clear. Yuji’s uncle, whoever he was, was breathtakingly beautiful, and you had just embarrassed yourself in front of him. He easily stood over six feet tall, towering over his nephew. While Yuji shared similar features, his uncle’s were sharper and more defined by age. Intricate face tattoos adorned his skin, accompanied by two slits in both of his brows, a barbell piercing through his left brow. His hair, styled similarly to Yuji’s, appeared to be its natural, unique color. 

Maybe it wasn’t dyed after all. 

He looked every bit of a high school troublemaker. His ears were pierced with gauges and several piercings lined his helix. Tattoos, similar to the ones on his face, trailed down his neck and beneath the collar of his sweatshirt. His hands were casually shoved into his jean pockets as he quirked up a brow of annoyance. 

Mentally scolding yourself, you stood up and bowed at the waist. “I am so sorry. The crate slipped from my hands.:

“No, no! It’s okay, really. Are you sure that you’re alright?”

Yuji’s voice carried concern, his brow furrowed as you regained your full height. There was no way in hell that you would admit that his uncle had been the real reason you dropped the crate. 

You tensed as Yuji’s uncle shifted, sidestepping you to bend down behind you. He held up a new crate in his hand. “Let’s go. You’re already wasting my time, kid.”

Yuji nodded briskly, taking the crate from his uncle’s hand and hurrying towards the front of the store. Swallowing hard, you glanced at the man beside you. His eyes met yours, almost making you jump out of your skin. Quickly looking away, you stared at the floor in silence.

“Sorry if my nephew bothered you at all.” His voice, velvety smooth, resonated through the aisle. 

“What?” You blinked, turning to face him. “Oh no! He wasn’t a bother at all.”

Your heart thundered. His eyes—a deep maroon that gleamed in the light—captivated you. Did Yuji share the same trait? You couldn’t remember. 

He arched a brow, seemingly unconvinced by your response, before walking away and disappearing from view. As he departed, you visibly relaxed, leaning against the shelf for support. Your hands rose to cradle your heated face.

God, who knew someone could make face tattoos look so hot?

[mmhcs]

They've Got Chemistry!

Miguel O'Hara x Science-Lover!Reader

A/N: Big hearts and big brains.

Warnings: Long fic, Miguel is (sort of) bad/rusty at science, and, while I tried to make this as accurate as possible, I must admit that I'm not as well-versed in the sciences as I'd like to be (I'm trying, though!) and so some information may be incorrect (I apologize to any science lovers/studiers in advance!)

As a geneticist, Miguel is obviously well-versed in all branches of science. But he loves biology. He loves all branches but that's where it's at for him. There's just something so interesting about what two organisms can create and how certain things can be moved around for better or worse. He likes the foresight that comes with the study, how one can predict and prevent.

Due to his role within the Spider Society, Miguel has taken a special interest in molecular biology. His favorite part is seeing how a Spider-person's DNA structure changes after being bitten. His least favorite part is seeing the damage that can be done when a person who doesn't belong travels to another universe. From what he's concluded, DNA becomes damaged following exposure to another universe. He wishes he would have known that sooner.

When Miguel first sees you, it's at one of the many labs within the Spider Society. You're sitting at a table with Miles, helping him with his Physics homework. The first thing that comes to Miguel's mind is wow. Because you mean to tell him that you're pretty and smart? And you're a science fanatic like him? Most Spiders he works with a smart (even Peter B.), yes, but whenever he starts going into the specific details of what makes up the Arachno-Humanoid Poly-Multiverse, their eyes start to glaze over.

But you - you explain everything to Miles with evident eagerness. It makes Miguel want to go up and say something, pick your brain and have his own conversation with you.

"...Now, Miles, when you want to find the density, it's mass divided by volume—" "Could you please keep it down in here? I'm feeling the reverberation of your soundwaves in the next room," Miguel says as he casually strolls up to you and Miles. "Excuse me?" You watch as this big man saunters over to the two of you. "If we're being factual, the frequency that we're speaking at right now wouldn't even be enough to be picked up from behind the door of this room." Though almost unnoticeable, Miguel's false irritated demeanor falters at your words. It was a joke. He was joking. Nonetheless, he continues walking towards the table, stealing a chair and plopping down opposite to you. "Hey!" Miles yells, almost knocked out of his chair by Miguel's hasty actions. "Relax, kid, you're fine," he hisses before turning back to you. "Miguel O'Hara" —he extends his hand, hoping that his eagerness isn't evident—"and you are?"

He basically hijacks Miles's study session with you. And, while annoyed (because physics is way harder than it sounds), Miles finds great amusement in seeing Miguel get fact-checked back-to-back.

Following your "conversation", Miguel makes more of an effort to brush up on his knowledge of science. You made him realize that he's been neglecting so much of the scientific world in favor of work.

He totally doesn't use this as an excuse to spend more time around you, though. The reason why Miguel silently observes you as you work in the lab is because he has to make sure that you don't accidentally screw something up, not because he wants to get to know you more but he's nervous and afraid that he'll say something stupid.

Oddly enough, you also bring Miguel and Miles closer together. After noticing his behavior around you, Miles goes to him, hoping that he can offer some advice.

"Look, it's a crush—no biggie!" Miles says, lackadaisically waving a hand. "I get them all the time!" Miguel doesn't say anything, only looks down at Miles from his platform. "Hey, my Uncle Aaron always used to tell me that when you like someone, you go up to them, put your hand on their shoulder and say 'Hey' really smoothly. Gotta make your voice come out like mantequilla, y'know? Makes 'em go crazy—" "Get out." "Huh? What? But tío, I'm just trying to offer some advice man-to-man—" "Get. Out." Slightly defeated, Miles turns to head for the door, mouth scrunched into a tight knob. "And that's what you're having trouble with in Physics?" Miguel adds. "A baby could do those problems!" "Hey, you got three of them wrong!" Miles calls back.

When you two finally start dating, Miguel tries his best to be the smartest, most educated version of himself. He's constantly spitting out random scientific facts or calling you to do experiments with him. He wants to impress you.

As the leader of the Spider Society, it's very rare that Miguel asks for help. He doesn't even like calling for backup when he needs it. But whenever he's working on something or needs to be reminded of what correct term to use, he calls you. You're the only one allowed in the lab with him while he's working and you're the only one allowed to pitch and test new ideas. It's a great display of trust and vulnerability on Miguel's part, given out of his trust and love for you.

He even allows you to make jokes when he messes up.

Carefully, Miguel picks up a piece of potassium with a pair of tweezers. In front of him is a row of beakers, filled with everything from water to new, colorful concoctions that he'd mixed together. He studies the potassium and then eyes the row of beakers, deciding on which one to drop the sucker in. "Cariño, come look at this, porfa," Miguel says once he's decided. You swivel around in your chair to look back at him just as he drops the potassium into the beaker of water. Before you can say anything, sparks fizzle within the glass followed by two loud pops. Miguel remains frozen in place, both in embarrassment and disbelief. He meant to drop it in the beaker next to the water. It's only when you come up and peck him on his ear does Miguel finally snap out of his thoughts. "Was that deliberate or are you just excited to see me?" you ask with a chuckle.

While you're not a fan of Miguel staying late and overworking himself, sometimes you plan dates in the lab where you two do fun, non-work-related experiments. While it's not as good as having him home and resting, you take solace in the fact that he's taking a break from work to do something fun.

Miguel dedicates himself to learning more about your favorite branch of science. Whether it's chemistry, physics, or a subfield such as acoustics, you best believe that he's going to read every book, do every experiment with you, and make sure that he understands how to better relate to you.

Likewise, you and Miguel also do a lot of biology experiments together. Even if it's something as plain as extracting and comparing DNA from different fruits, he likes to hear you prattle off facts and make observations and hypotheses.

You also use "research experiments" such as "the effects of sleep and relaxation" in order to coax Miguel into taking care of himself.

Miguel's favorite cheesy joke to make is that you two are like protons and electrons because you're a beam of positivity in his life and he, like an electron, is insanely attracted to you.

Your late-night talks are both existential and logical as you discuss how the Web of Life and Destiny bought you two together and whether or not it's a canon event, you two were meant to be.

Overall, Miguel loves you. Not just how easy it is to get lost doing something he loves but just you in general. Your brain, knowledge, face, body, how you keep him on his toes and constantly inspire him to learn and relearn—he loves all of it. And he forever cherishes you.

A/N: Once again, so sorry about the length of this! If any science aficionados would be so kind as to share some links to videos, websites, etc. that help them to better understand science, that would be much appreciated! Hope y'all enjoyed!

[unforgivenn]

The room was dark, save for the flickering light bulb hanging by a thread. Sidekick's breaths came in ragged gasps, each one more painful than the last. The metal cuffs bit into their wrists, sending sharp, electric pain shooting up their arms. They tried to shift, to ease the pressure, but the chains rattled loudly in the silent room.

"Please," they whispered, the word barely audible. Their throat was raw, and every syllable felt like sandpaper. What did he want? How long had it been? Hours? Days? Months? Time had lost all meaning.

A creak echoed from the shadows, and Sidekick's heart lurched. He was coming back. The steady, deliberate footsteps grew louder, each one a hammer blow to their fragile hope.

Sidekick's thoughts were a jumbled mess, a frantic scramble for escape that their body couldn't follow. Stay calm, stay calm, you can get out of this. But how? How, when every movement was agony, when the darkness pressed in so tight it felt like drowning?

The footsteps stopped, and the figure stepped into the dim light. Cold eyes met Sidekick's, and a cruel smile spread across his lips.

"Did you miss me?" Villain asked, his voice dripping with malice.

Sidekick closed their eyes, bracing for the next wave of pain, a single thought echoing in their mind: Survive

Villain reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, gleaming knife. The light from the bulb reflected off its blade, casting eerie shadows on the walls. He took a step closer, and Sidekick could feel the air grow colder, the fear wrapping tighter around their chest no matter how much they tried ignoring it.

"You look like you've had a rough time," Villain sneered, tilting his head slightly. "I would offer you some comfort, but where's the fun in that?"

He traced the edge of the knife along Sidekick's jawline, not cutting, just enough to make their skin crawl. "Tell me what I want to know, and this can all end. Don't you want to go home Sidekick?" A look of innocence filled their face.

Sidekick's eyes snapped open. "I don't know anything," they rasped, the pain in their throat flaring because of the dehydration that the Villain had caused them.

Villain's smile faded, replaced by a look of irritation. "You expect me to believe that?" He gripped Sidekick's chin, forcing them to look at him. "Everyone knows something. Everyone has a price."

"I told you, I don't—"

The knife's point pressed into their skin, silencing their protest. "Do you think I'm stupid?" Villain hissed. "Do you think I don't know how this works? You're a liability, Sidekick. And liabilities must be managed."

Sidekick's mind raced. Desperation clawed at them, and in the back of their mind, a voice kept telling them to tell Villain what he wanted to know. They couldn't deny that they, in fact, did want to go home. They wanted to go home, forget all of this ever happened, and get cozy under loads of blankets and coffee in their hand while binge-watching their favorite series.

"If you kill me, you'll get nothing."

Villain's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I won't kill you. Not yet. But.." They dragged out the last word, before looking straight into Sidekick's eyes and whispering. "I can make you wish I had."

"Let's see how long you can keep that brave face, Sidekick."

The knife dragged down their throat, letting small beads of blood drop down until, suddenly Villain slashed the knife down their arm clearly getting impatient with all of this. Sidekick's world turned into hot white pain and they couldn't even realize that they were screaming. It burnt.

Another slash. More pain. And with more pain came more screams and crying.

"Ready to tell it now, Sidekick? You do know that I'll make you tell it to me sooner or later. You're just bringing yourself more pain, y'know."

Sidekick breathed heavily, tired. They just wanted to sleep. To escape this living nightmare.

"I guess not." Villain shrugged before continuing to cut Sidekick's skin. Sidekick tried keeping their tears in though in vain.

They kept imagining Hero was next to them, giving them words of encouragement that kept repeating in their head. Again. And again. They wouldn't, couldn't, tell villain.

Because hero's, they never give up.

[blackmoonowl]

Probably will end up being a shorter story but can i request one with Gage when overboss! Reader decides to do Open Season and kills all the raiders? Romantic or just platonic, either is fine

Open Season

ꨄ Pairing: Porter Gage x reader

ꨄ Summary: Pretty much what the request asked for. Made it romantic because live laugh love Gage. Wrote this in Gage's perspective as I usually do.

ꨄ Word Count: 2028

ꨄ A/N: Content warning for blood, death, mild gore. I mean what do you expect going into this?

"Ye sure you need all that?"

Gage stood crossed armed by your side as you bought more ammo than he could care to count. He was all for being prepared, but this seemed excessive. "Preparing for something big, Boss? If so, I'd love to know."

"Just in case, before I forget." Was all he received as reply. A frown played across his lips. You had been standoffish all morning. As both your right-hand man and your partner it seemed off to him, but after so long he finally trusted you.

"If you say so, just hurry up. Sooner we finish this shit, the sooner we can take a break." Gage noted his own phrasing, he didn't want to slip up and let everyone know about your little relationship, even though he knew most had already figured things out. Still, best to keep it under wraps for now.

Aaron Corbett quietly handed over the items you purchased. Gage noted the moments of eye contact you shared with the slave. There was something there he couldn't quite identify. He figured you may have put the man his place for his constant attitude. It was about damn time too; he thought to himself.

"There you go," Aaron spoke. "I'm sure you know the price at this point, been selling you crap long enough.'

Gage narrowed his eye at the slaves words. He opened his mouth to retort, but you raised your hand to stop him. It irritated him, you were the Overboss, not a doormat. You paid the slave the owed caps before turning to him.

"Alright, I'm done, what's next?" You asked, putting the items in your bag before turning to him. Gage nodded his head to the exit of the marketplace, you following after.

"Still want you to think about takin' over those settlements," he began. "I know you ain't fond of the idea, but we gotta keep these assholes happy or it's us on the line."

"Yeah, I get it," you replied. Gage shot you a glance. Something was definitely up. He waited until the two of you were in a more secluded area of the park before he gently pulled you behind a wall.

"Boss, what's goin' on? You're acting weird and you're not telling me shit," he brought up in a hushed, yet frustrated tone, his brows furrowed in a stern glare. He was leaned close to you, wanting to keep the conversation private.

"Just, got a lot on my mind is all," you replied, rubbing your neck. "I'm fine, really."

"You're not goin' soft on me, are you?" Gage replied. "Look, I want you to succeed, for your own sake as well. But you can't screw this up for us. We got it good here," Gage reminded you. It was the closest he could bring himself to telling you he was worried.

The look on your face made Gage's gut twist with confusion, concern and suspicion. Guilt, you had a distinct look of guilt on your face.

"No, no you're right, I'm sorry." He sighed in mild annoyance at your response, leaning back a bit.

"Don't apologize to me, you're the boss, you don't apologize to anyone, remember?" He scolded you, before he softened up slightly. "But good to know you're taking me seriously."

He let you hug him, as far as you could with his armor in the way. The raider pat you om the back before pulling away, stepping back onto the square. You looked even more conflicted, but he figured he wasn't going to get much more out of you.

"Either way, we should probably check on the park, make sure the raiders didn't destroy their new territory," he continued. You nodded in agreements.

"Let's split up, you take the Galactic zone and Safari Adventure, I'll do the others. We'll get more done that way," you suggested. Another odd thing to him.

"You sure about that boss? I mean I bet it would be safer to stick together, but I guess the gangs like you enough not to immediately gut you." Gage stopped at the entrance. "Alright, meet you back here when we're done. Don't do anything stupid." He quickly placed a kiss to the top of your head before strolling over to the Galactic zone. Your expression changed to a more stoic one, you walked back into Nuka town U.S.A, your own plan ready.

The raiders hadn't bothered to clean up the place, though Gage wasn't sure what he was expecting. He collected the gifts the gang had left for you. Part of him was surprised at the gesture of Gratitude, but it was a good sign, nonetheless. He made a short round before heading tot he exit so he could check out the Safari Adventure, until the moderate silence was broken.

Gage barely reacted when the first shot rang out. He assumed some drunk raiders had a brawl or one of the people they kept trapped made a break for it. But then a second shot sounded, then a third. Most other raiders didn't seem too concerned, occupied with drinking or screwing around. Only a few of the Operators gave each other looks. A sinking gut feeling sent dread washing over him as he looked around the area he was checking in on. His first thoughts rang to you. It there was a massacre going on, he'd have to pull you out.

"Boss?!" Gage yelled out, power walking out of the section of the park, making his way back to the main area. He continued to hear the gunshots, no longer from just one weapon, and he heard yelling. His mind was racing. He didn't know what he'd do if you got hurt. The logical part of his brain argued it was because of his own safety. If the Overboss bit the big one, his own life would be on the line again. But there was a part of his heart that ached at the idea of losing you, the only person he actually cared about.

"Boss!" He called out, his voice wary. Bodies littered the ground, and blood stained his shoes. It seemed like some sort of war was going on between the gangs, grabbing his own weapon, he made sure he had enough cover if he needed it. He was relieved when he didn't see you amongst the suckers shot dead. But he still needed to find you, pushing through.

"That's far enough." Gage grunted as the barrel of a gun was thrust against the back of his head. A raider stood behind him with gritted teeth.

"The fuck are you doing?" Gage bit back. "Park's gettin' shot up and we're in the open!"

"Don't think I don't know," the raider hissed. "Real clever of you both, getting rid of us to claim the park for yourselves."

"What's that supposed to mean, where's the boss?" The raider didn't answer Gage's question, only getting more pissed off.

"Playing stupid isn't gonna get you anywhere, fucker. Real convenient you left right before the bloodbath started." Gage's blood ran cold. Realization hit him like a sucker punch to the gut.

"Listen pal, I don't know what's going on, put the damn gun down," Gage tried to defuse the situation. That wasn't necessary anymore as the Raider was shot down as well. Gage stood face to face with you, gun in your hands.

"Boss, what the hell are you doing!?" Gage exclaimed, tightening the grip on his own gun, careful not to raise it too soon.

"I'm doing what has to be done, I'm taking the gangs out. I just needed them to be spread out enough to where it wouldn't be too big of a problem," you replied.

"You planned this... you fucking planned this. All this work and trust I put in you, and you fuck me over!" Gage's shout cracked halfway.

"It had to be done," you replied, approaching. "I can't do this, Gage. What we're doing is inhumane."

"What do we care!? We had it good, we were on top of the world. You and me against the world, commanding a group of suckers to do our bidding!" Gage raised his gun, aiming it at you. He didn't want to shoot you, he really didn't. But the rage of your betrayal was strong in his mind. Another gunshot sounded, and both of you sought cover. Gage took the chance to make a break for it. Another bullet struck him in the leg. Raiders from the different section were flooding Nuka town U.S.A. None of them knew what was going on, and it was devolving into a blood-stained chaos. Some blamed him and you, but most blamed each other.

Gritting his teeth, Gage managed to drag himself into the lobby of the Fizztop Grille, gripping his leg tightly. Making sure to barricade the door to the best of his ability, he could only hope they wouldn't use the lift to ambush him. He didn't have the strength to get himself up to his belongings within the restaurant, and he backed against the wall, letting himself slide to the floor. All he could do was try and wait out the carnage. He could hear the gangs tearing each other apart. He didn't care about any of them, but he did care about the position he put himself in. He felt himself dangerously close to passing out, doing what he can to wrap up the wound on his legs.

Hours felt like days until the sounds from outside calmed down. A knock sounded on the barricaded door. Gage kept his mouth shut, not wanting to alert anyone to his presence. He internally cursed when he heard the lift start up, and he held his gun tightly. Footsteps began sounding above him, before he heard someone going down the stairs.

The gun shook slightly in his hand when a Stimpak was slid his way across the floor. Gage looked at you, angry and suspicious. But he desperately needed it. Keeping his eyes on you, he grabbed the Stimpak, injecting it in his leg with a grunt.

"Came to finish the job?" He bitterly spat as you approached him carefully.

"No," you replied, slowly lowering your gun, though he kept his trained on you. "This isn't how it has to end, you know."

"The hell do you mean?" Gage retorted, backing up against the wall further. "You killed everyone!"

"I didn't kill you. That's what matters, right?" You replied, kneeling down by him. "Let's face it, we were never going to last in all this. One sign of weakness and someone overthrows us."

"And holing up in shitty settlements is so much better?" He snapped as you inspected his leg. "I fucking told you we were doing much better than everyone."

"For now, but at what cost?" You questioned, putting mild pressure on the wound and causing him to hiss. "The traders are taking back control, no one left to detonate the collars. That or they no longer care to try."

"Great, another problem on our hands," he grumbled. He looked back up at you. "So, I'm good enough not to die? Gonna tell me you care about me now?"

"I don't want to kill you, so I'm giving you a choice." You said, standing back up. Gage shot you a questioning, yet still completely pissed look. If you hadn't been the person he cared about most he would have killed you on the spot.

"You can stick with me, we'll get that nasty wound treated and you can continue as my Right-hand man," you offered. Gage leaned back.

"Or else?" He asked skeptically, his head leaning against the wall. You looked down at him.

"Then this is goodbye. You can leave, find another crappy raider gang. Maybe you'll make it to sixty before either the wounds or your fellow raiders kill you. But given my limited experienced in the wasteland, I'm not that confident you'll make it that far."

Gage bit back a sharp response. His gaze drifted from you to his wounded leg. He wasn't going to make it that far, not on his own. Finally, he looked back at you.

"Fine."

[vithir]

Su- what kind of flowers?

Chapter 11 of Bright Water by AstronomyAddict on ao3

Regulus lifted his glass towards James. “Shall we toast?”

James reached out and clinked his glass against Regulus’s. “To what?” he asked with a crooked smile.

“I don’t know yet,” Regulus said with a twinkle in his eye. “Perhaps to understanding each other a little better.”

James smiled back, still nervous, but oddly calm in his company. “Was that an invitation to get to know you better? I’ll take it that way, so okay, I have at least 100 questions for you. Where do I start?”

Regulus chuckled and took a sip of his wine. He fit in so well here; in a fancy restaurant with fine food. “Start with the easy questions, please.”

James thought carefully. He wanted to know so many different things, and he didn’t know where to begin. Regulus had said easy, so that’s what he would try.

“What change would you like to see in the world?” James asked eagerly, and Reg laughed again. “I said easy! That was not an easy question.”

James didn’t have to think long before he had an easier, yet not boring question. “What music do you listen to?”

“Classical.”

James nodded slowly. That actually made quite a bit of sense when he thought about it

“Do you play music then?”

“Yes, I play the piano, and I’ve been doing it since I was four,” James was lost for words. Could this man be any more attractive? “I also compose my own music.” Yes, he certainly could. Regulus played and composed music! James didn’t know what to say, but he realised that his silence was starting to stretch on too long.

"Wow, that's wonderful! We should do something together one day." He flashed a crooked smile at Regulus, still trying to take in the new information. He composed music? Of course he did!

"Next question!" Regulus ordered.

James massaged his temples in a thoughtful gesture, even though he already knew what to ask. He had so many questions and wanted to fire them all off at once—

"What's your favourite place to take a nap?"

"The floor."

"How often do you dance?"

"Never."

"Which workers have the worst job?"

"Nursery teachers."

"Favourite scent?"

"Cinnamon."

"Food?"

"Snails."

"Favourite flower?"

"Su—you're absolutely not getting that out of me!" Regulus glared across the table. James couldn't help but laugh. That glare was so adorable, filling every corner of his heart.

"Why won't you say it? I'll figure it out anyway. Whether I get it out of you, or I have to bring you different flowers every time we hang out, that's up to you."

Regulus glared even harder, leaning over the table toward James.

"Oh, is that what you think? I can tell you right now that—"

"Dinner's ready." Regulus was cut off by a short-haired woman who entered with two delicious-smelling plates. Regulus leaned back as she placed one plate in front of him and the other in front of James. She stood beside the table, looking expectantly at Regulus. He said nothing. With a small sigh, she left, and James couldn't help but laugh. Regulus had just brushed her off, which meant he wasn’t interested in her. James picked up his cutlery and began cutting into a potato. He had never been that keen on squid. It was a bit rubbery, and the taste was something he'd never quite gotten used to. He couldn’t understand why Regulus appreciated it. With his French background, it made sense that he was used to eating odd things—snails, frog legs, and yes, squid.

"So," James said after the silence had stretched on for a bit too long. He put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "The favourite flower. I’m serious. I’ll figure it out, sooner or later."

Regulus slowly looked up from his plate, his eyes glinting with both irritation and amusement. "Are you seriously bringing up flowers right now? In the middle of dinner?"

James laughed and nodded. "Yeah, why not? Flowers are interesting! They say a lot about a person."

Regulus rolled his eyes and took a bite of his food, but James could see he wasn’t planning to answer immediately. Instead, he took his time, chewing slowly, as if weighing his next move.

"Alright, let’s say I give you my answer," Regulus finally said, his voice low and almost secretive. "What are you going to do with that information? Buy me flowers all the time?"

James blinked dramatically, pretending to think deeply about the question. "Maybe. Or maybe I’ll just use it against you every time I need to make you smile."

Regulus snorted and shook his head, but there was a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You’re an idiot."

James laughed again and shrugged. "Maybe, but I’m your idiot."

There was a brief silence where Regulus just looked at him. "I don’t have a favourite flower," he said suddenly, but James could hear the doubt in his voice.

"I don’t believe you," James said. "Everyone has a favourite flower, even if they won’t admit it. But fine, I’ll figure it out. You won’t be able to hide it forever."

Regulus simply gave him a sceptical look but dropped the subject. Instead, he took a sip of his wine, as if he had won the battle—but James knew better. He had all the time in the world to crack Regulus’ shell. "Wait and see," he muttered to himself with a satisfied smile.