#of whiskey and whims

[callsignserpent]

🥃 𝕆𝕗 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕪 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕤🥃

💀'GHOST' RILEY X READER ONESHOT💀

It was only supposed to be a quiet evening alone out at the bar after exfil... until a chance encounter left Simon 'Ghost' Riley's head and heart entangled....

• fluff; angst; language; brief mentions of violence/blood

He'd never forget that voice, not for a while.

"Table for one?"

You'd approached him with no fear, no hesitation... and it'd stuck with him ever since.

Ghost takes a seat at the table, leaning back with a sigh, the sound deeper than all the countless lives that were currently weighing on his conscience, his very soul.

It was ironic, really.

Here he sat, bearing the callsign 'Ghost', and yet... the very reason he took up the name in the first place, was the same reason his thoughts, his dreams, his nearly every waking moment were being haunted.

Funny how the past has a way of eventually catching up to oneself...

"Your usual, mate?"

The quiet voice of the bartender briefly pulls Ghost from the dark chasm of his thoughts, and he gives a wordless nod, tired eyes watching the bartender disappear back behind the counter.

It'd been the same routine for the past few months now, a sort of downward spiral.

Infil, mission, exfil, post-op, drink... no sleep.

Infil, mission, exfil, post-op, drink... no sleep.

And the voices, the faces.

Ghost didn't know which was worse: the fact that he hardly slept anymore, or the fact that when he was lucky enough to be able to close his eyes, all he could see were the countless thousands of faces who'd died at his hands.

People who, like him, had once had a family, friends, loved ones... but no more.

Because of him... the Ghost of 141.

Jaw tensing, Ghost lets his fingers curl into an idle fist atop the worn wooden table, only loosing them momentarily when the bartender returns with his usual: glass of straight whiskey, on the rocks, leave the bottle.

It'd quickly become both his favorite and worst vice, the one poison he knew he could drown his thoughts and conscience in.

Reaching forward, Ghost's fingers curl around the glass, shadowed eyes narrowing above his mask as they stare through the amber liquid and the ice, as if looking for an answer, a prayer... a way out.

But that was just it: there was no way out.

There was something his Captain had said once, and it'd stuck with him ever since.

"We get our hands dirty so the world can stay clean..."

But how much more blood would spill on his hands, how many more faces would he have to see behind closed eyes, before it'd be enough?

Jaw tensing again, Ghost brings the glass up to his mouth, lifting the edge of the mask just enough to swallow down a mouthful of whiskey.

He didn't even feel the burn of it in his throat anymore, having grown numb to it.

If only the same could be said for his conscience, for the guilt and the memories...

Another mouthful of whiskey, another bitter memory gets swallowed down, the pain sharp like glass, cutting away at his insides-

"Table for one?"

That voice, so soft spoken, so warm...

It catches him off guard for a moment, and his head snaps up, brown eyes narrowing as he reaches up to adjust his mask back into place, fingers working to set the glass of whiskey down a little more harshly than he intends to.

You stand there before him, such a quiet little thing, eyes watching him almost expectantly, yet there's an undertone of patience there too, an old soul-

A soft clearing of your throat has Ghost's jaw twitching momentarily beneath the mask, and he realizes two entire minutes have came and gone while he's sat here, glaring up at you.

"Table for one?" you ask him again, softer this time, one slim brow quirking up at him.

The way you ask him, so unabashedly, ever so patient with him- it has his gaze softening, and before he knows what he's doing, what he's saying, what the fuck is he saying, don't-

"Sit."

The word comes out quiet, gruff.

And you do exactly that.

You work with nimble fingers to unfasten the buttons on your black coat, revealing a hint of red beneath, and you take a seat in the chair opposite him, and you smile at him-

Fucking hell, the way you smile at him-

It makes Ghost's chest ache, the feeling raw and unfamiliar and different from the usual ache.

A beat or two of silence passes by, a serene ocean of unspoken thoughts and feelings and how-do-you-do's, until-

"You look... lonely."

The observation, spoken so gently in that way that you have, it makes a muscle in Ghost's jaw tic briefly.

"M'not."

But it's a lie, and he knows it, and he wonders for a split second if perhaps you know it, as well.

Shadowed eyes watch the bar patrons, inked hands bring that whiskey glass back up to his mouth, fingers lifting the bottom edge of his mask to swallow down the poison, swallow down the hurt, bury it all-

"I've seen you in here before, you know..."

And those fingers tighten on the whiskey glass, tense and almost afraid to let go-

"You're alone this time. Something's different... your friends, they're back at base. They don't know you're here, do they?"

And it's not so much the way you say it, more so what you've said, that gets him.

The whiskey glass nearly slips from his hand, until a second hand comes into view, catching the fall, fingers brushing against his, and fuck, the warmth-

"What did you just say?"

The words come out a little more biting than he intends, British accent thick and voice all gravelly, full of accusations and hurt and wariness-

"You... you're military? Aren't you?"

You ask him so softly, unflinching and determined to keep this going, to keep him going...

"You don't sit and stare into your own soul and try and drown it like this, unless you've seen things, things you're not supposed to see. You're military?" There's that question again...

And before he can stop himself, Ghost is nodding, and letting you take the glass from him with gentle hands to bring it up to your lips, those haunted eyes of his watching as you take a sip from the glass, his glass-

"British army. Price's unit, yes? He comes in here sometimes with his team. Did you know, one of them goes by the name 'Soap'?"

The way you're sitting here in front of him, rambling on about his teammates, his Captain...

Despite himself, one corner of Ghost's mouth twitches up for a second at the mention of his best mate.

"Aye. Johnny. He's a good one."

The words roll off his tongue so quiet, a world of weight concealed behind them.

Johnny had been with him from the beginning, had seen and felt the weight of their work, the effect it'd had on his friend.

There was many a night where Johnny would sit here with him, the two of them drinking away the pain and the loss and the bloodshed... but tonight wasn't one of those.

No, tonight Ghost was alone with his conscience, his guilt, his soul.

Or at least, he had been.

"Hey. Look at me? Please?"

Such a gentle way you have of speaking to him, but why was there a touch of sadness there-

And before he can stop himself, Ghost is looking up, brown eyes meeting yours, letting you see and feel the gravity of what he'd felt ever since he took up this job...

He could swear he hears your breath hitch, in this quiet little corner of the bar, where two lonely souls sit opposite each other-

"It weighs on you, doesn't it? What they ask you to do, the things you've seen, heard...?"

"Not all rainbows and easy A's and sunshine, Miss...?"

"Y/N." You answer him with that look in your eyes again, such gentleness there.

"Y/N."

Ghost echoes the name, letting it roll off his tongue, and it tastes and burns sweeter than any poison this bar could ever offer him.

"Y/N," he starts, voice heavy with the weight of what he's about to say, "my job-"

But then his voice hitches in the back of his throat, and he has to swallow hard to keep going, oh fucking hell, he needs to keep going-

"I know."

The interruption comes so quietly, he almost doesn't hear it at first.

You know? What does that mean, you know, what the hell could you possibly know about what he deals with, what he is-?

Brown eyes narrow above the skull mask he wears, not to protect himself, no, but to remind others of what lies at his core, the darkness there, a warning of sorts, 'don't get too close'...

"You... are not your job."

Ghost's head snaps up, eyes widening, searching yours for an answer, a sign-

"What the fuck are you sa-"

"You. Are. Not. Your. Job."

The way you're leaning forward in your chair, eyes staring into his like you're trying to gauge his soul, to see what lies deep within-

"You're the one they call 'Ghost', yes? And yet... it haunts you. All of it. I can see that it does. But... you are not your job."

You sit in a quiet sort of contemplation for a moment, swilling the amber liquid around in the whiskey glass you still hold clutched between your fingers, before bringing it up to your lips, swallowing down the alcohol.

The quiet clink of the empty glass against the table is like a reflection of Ghost's being, his heart, the very core of who he thinks he is, who he's let himself become: hollow, empty, a mere shell of his former self.

But then your hands are working so gently to refill the glass, and there's more warmth there, more poison to drown it all down with, only something is different this time, it's... perhaps not quite as bitter and scorching and hateful as he'd allowed himself to believe...

And when you offer him the full glass, he accepts it with a trembling hand, fingers working to lift the edge of the mask that hides his scars, the ones he keeps on the outside, and the liquid finally burns as it runs down the back of his throat, but it's a different burn this time...

"You know it, don't you? You can see it? That you're more than just a name, a callsign, a weapon to be used... more than a job?

"What they would have you do, the blood you've spilled, the faces you have to see for the rest of your life... you're more than all of that. Please tell me you know that...?"

"M'trying-" the words come out strained, almost pleading, and for a moment, Ghost isn't entirely sure who he's actually trying to convince: you, or... himself.

"I know you are, and I see that. I see you. Please... in all the thousands of lives that have probably died at your hands, don't- don't let your own sit among their ranks."

His hands...

Ghost's gaze drops to rest on his hands, the muscles and tendons and ink stained with the blood he can't see, with the weight of each and every life he'd snuffed out at his fingertips.

And then a second set of hands, your hands, so small and warm and alive-

They take one of his between them, fingers folding over his, a silent reassurance, a promise, a simple 'I see you, I've got you'...

"Breathe."

Your eyes search his once more, and he can't look, but he has to, he knows he has to, and now he can't look away, and he's trying, he really is, but it hurts, his chest aches again-

"Breathe, Ghost. I know it's a lot. I know it's heavy, it weighs. But you can't let it..."

Those fingers give his a soft squeeze, a silent plea to hold on, just a little longer...

"We are more than the weight of our wars."

Those words...

'We are more than the weight of our wars...'

Those words, and the way you sit here across from him, the way you look at him, see him, truly see him, it's too much, and yet not enough, all at once.

Something inside of Ghost breaks.

Every single wall he's so carefully crafted within and around himself, not to keep others out, but to keep himself inside, to keep the darkness inside... all of it crumbles.

And this time, when you offer him the glass of whiskey, a cure to drown it all... he refuses.

His brows furrow, eyes narrowing and then widening and then narrowing yet again above his mask, his mind trying desperately to come to terms with the onslaught of emotions and denial and guilt and hurt and acceptance-

"Walk with me?"

You ask the question so softly, so sweetly, he couldn't say no even if he wanted to, but that's just it, he doesn't want to-

Ghost finds himself nodding, the harsh scrape of the chairs against the floor briefly grating against his nerves, there's a light rattling of coins being dropped onto the worn wooden tabletop, payment for the bartender playing host to his pain tonight-

And yet through it all, your hand remains firmly clasped around his, fingers lightly tapping against the back of his inked, worn hand.

The still half-full glass of whiskey remains abandoned on the table, bottle perched next to it, chairs lying open and ready for the next few ghosts of the past and present to sit and mourn.

A muscle in Ghost's jaw tics as he follows you outside, thunder rumbling in the distance, the clouds gathered in the velveteen night sky above heavy with the promise of rain.

"Home?" you ask softly.

Home...

Was he ready to go back yet? Ready to face all of that, another sleepless night?

"No."

Ghost's voice is quiet, gruff, a heavy sigh trailing after the single syllable.

"No?"

"No. Stay."

Two syllables this time, less harsh.

"Stay... with me. Please." Three.

He knows he shouldn't expect it, but somehow a small part of him remains hopeful...

And you do. You stay.

Such a small thing you are, tugging him by the hand down the sidewalk, until he eventually falls into step beside you, two souls on a sidewalk in the mid-October night.

Thunder rumbles again in the distance, louder this time, and as Ghost casts a look up at the skies, rain begins to fall from the velvet abyss that lies above.

And all too soon, the sound of your laughter is reaching his ears, and he's being pulled along the sidewalk again, hurrying to keep up with you as the heavens weep, the downpour soaking through the hood of his black denim jacket, the fabric of his mask.

More laughter reaches his ears, and somehow, the voices and faces that had been haunting his every thought tonight slowly fade for a little bit, lost in the light that is you-

"Here, here, quick-!"

Those words are all the warning he gets before Ghost is being tugged into a side alleyway, the rain a little less harsh here, the downpour a bit more forgiving.

More laughter rings out, echoing down the brick walls of the alley, and Ghost is a little surprised to find his own deep voice among the sound, joining yours.

"Fucking hell-"

The gruffly spoken swear words are followed by a brief pause, a momentary lapse of silence with only the rain as a backdrop, until the two of you are laughing again, and your hand is slipping from his as you dart to the edge of the alley, watching the other poor souls get caught up in the downpour.

Shadowed eyes watch as you wait until unsuspecting souls pass by the mouth of the alleyway, so you can kick up puddles of rainwater towards them, and the very sight has one corner of Ghost's mouth lifting up in a smirk beneath his mask.

And somehow, the longer he watches you, the more that smirk eventually becomes a full-blown grin, until he's laughing, striding forward and tugging you away from the puddles, deeper into the alleyway.

"You little menace-!" he's laughing.

And oh, how it feels so good to be able to laugh, for the first time in what feels like months, years, even-

And that ache in his chest has returned, only this time, it's much more different, sweeter, somehow...

But then all too soon, his boot is slipping out from under him as he takes a step back and he's falling towards the asphalt, and oh, fuck, your hand is still in his, oh no, what has he done-

And you land atop him, practically straddling him in the alleyway, staring down at him with those eyes of yours, fucking christ...

Ghost swallows hard, staring up at you, the rain soaking his face and likely making his eyeblack run everywhere, but in this moment, he couldn't care less, because the way you're looking down at him, the way you see him-

Perhaps it's just the whisper of the wind, but he could swear he hears your breath hitch, like earlier in the bar, as your eyes drop down to stare at his masked mouth, lingering for a touch too long before you're looking up at him again-

"Y/N-" he whispers, his hands finding yours and moving them up towards the bottom edge of his mask, letting you pull it up to see the scars that reside there, to see the real him...

There's a very deep part of himself that is terrified of how you'll react once you see the darkness that is him, once you see what lies within, what's at the very root of his core.

But then you lean down towards him, and before he can stop himself, he's leaning up to meet you halfway, his mouth finding yours and moving almost urgently against yours, as if he's only got a few moments' time left.

And it certainly feels that way, or maybe, just maybe, it feels like time itself stops for the two of you here in this alleyway-

The softest of groans looses itself from your pretty little mouth and fuck, if it isn't the sweetest sound Ghost has heard in his life.

He groans in response, the noise a deep rumble in the back of his throat, and he's sitting up, pulling you into his lap, one worn, inked hand moving to wind his fingers through your hair, tugging softly-

"Ghost, fuck-"

Your little whisper, your gasp, the way your mouth moves against his to form the words, has a shiver running down his spine, a feeling that has absolutely nothing to do with the slight chill of the mid-October evening.

"Simon-" he corrects you, shaking his head.

"Simon..." you repeat it.

The sound of his name, his real name, coming out of your mouth like that, it sets his soul ablaze, warmth trickling down his spine and bleeding into his bones, his heart.

"Say it again, please," he's begging.

And you comply only too easily.

"Simon..."

His mouth claims yours again with a deep groan, hips moving to rut against yours, free hand gripping your thigh until your hand comes down to rest atop his, holding on tightly.

"Simon, fuck- please please please..."

Ghost isn't entirely sure what it is you're asking him for, what you're begging for, but all he knows is from this moment on, he'll never get enough of you saying his name like that, like it's your lifeline, like it's the only word you know...

"Anything, love-"

The endearment slips out before he can stop it, and when you whisper "You? Please?" he's shaking his head at first, because he doesn't understand, how can you want that, want him, you just met him, you don't know what that darkness is like-

But then you're moving your hands to take his face between them, breaking the kiss to lock eyes with him, brows furrowing as you whisper a single word, a single little syllable-

"Please."

And the very last wall that Ghost had so carefully crafted for himself all those years since, it crumbles to nothing more than dust at your hands, your eyes, the way you see him, feel him, the way you want him.

And he's nodding, eyes falling closed as your mouth finds his again, whispering a softly spoken "Let me in" to which he finds himself answering with an equally soft-spoken "Always, love.."

Thunder rumbles in the distance, a quiet audience to the pain and the acceptance and the warmth between the two lonely souls caught up in an alleyway, the rain having stopped a good while ago.

And it's only when you're finally pulling him by the hand to his feet, your small hand clasped within his own, that Ghost finds himself able to breathe, to truly breathe, for the first time in what feels like a very long time.

"Home...?" you ask him, for the second time that night. But this time, he's ready.

"Home." he agrees, his tone soft and gentle.

And later that night, as he's lying back in his bed in the barracks, staring at his phone, the name 'Y/N' now in his contacts list, your number below it... Ghost knows tonight won't be a night spent haunted by the faces of the past.

No... tonight the only face he'd see behind closed eyes would be yours, full of warmth and light and love...

Tonight, the Ghost of 141 would finally rest.

🥃 𝕋𝕎𝕆 𝕎𝔼𝔼𝕂𝕊 𝕃𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ 🥃

"Nah, mate, I'm tellin' ye, next time he wants to show his ugly mug, he's mine!" the familiar Scottish voice rings out in the bar, followed by a round of laughter and agreement.

Ghost shoots Johnny a grin beneath the mask, the edges of it visible as his brown eyes crinkle at the corners. He raises his glass of bourbon in a toast, before lifting the bottom edge of his mask to swallow down the liquor.

It'd been two weeks since he'd last drowned his sorrows and his pain, and he'd abandoned his former poison, the whiskey, ever since, having chosen to move on to better, more promising things, something of substance and warmth, something that would be nicer to him.

Shadowed eyes glance down at the glass as he adjusts his mask back into place, staring down thoughtfully at the amber liquid and the ice... until a familiar voice sounds from nearby, causing a smile to break out beneath his mask.

He'd never forget that voice, not for a while.

"Table for one?"

💀 TAGLIST: @nixwolfe @konigsblog @konigslittleliebling @alecvolturiswifeforever @like-rain-or-confetti @simonghostrileylover @lay-z

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

re: your tags in your reblog about how taylor hasn't felt the need to fly back to the states during the euro leg and how travis was the one to go to her during his off season and the surprise pikachu of it all for her. think there are several things that have elicited that reaction from her where she's realized no, it didn't have to be the way it was despite maybe being made to feel the opposite at the time

Yup.

Again this is probably veering close to territory I don't/shouldn't get into on main because ultimately I don't think there's anything to add and it's all stuff we'll never know.

That being said, lol, I think there's been a lot in the last year that Taylor's discovered that has made her wonder about why she felt she needed to do things the way she did, and I don't even just mean in terms of her relationship. We've all kind of seen her blossoming in ways I suspect surprised even her.

But relationship-wise, I wouldn't be surprised if the way things seem to have felt easy and secure from the start with Travis made her wonder why it couldn't have been with other people in the past (ahem) and more than a little angry for a bit about how easy it is for her current partner to be supportive in a way that comes naturally when her previous one(s)... was(were) not. Obviously I can't speak for Taylor, but I certainly would have a moment of Petty Betty-ness for a little bit.

[sparrownnax]

wgats happenig

[coconutdays]

love line

s. on a very drunk night, satoru exposes your crush on the famous mma fighter, and friend of yours, toji zenin

w.c. 12.3k

w. fem! reader, mma!toji! x reader , fluff!, smut!

a/n: this might not be proofread well but I hope yall enjoy. im very in love with this man!

"I can't believe I lost that stock today!"

you're out having drinks with your friends at a fancy bar in shibuya when satoru gets shitfaced drunk. the matter is nothing new. he's the lightweight of the group and doesn't care about getting home most of the time because he knows either you or suguru will take charge and take him home.

you're taking frequent sips of your whiskey as you watch one of the country's most successful business owners mope over a small, so very minuscule, fraction of his wealth fly by. suguru is sitting next to you at the booth and exchanges a look of 'idiot' in reference to the white haired man's sad life story. sukuna is in front of you and no look needs to be exchanged because he simply acts on his thoughts and gives satoru a smack on the back of his head.

and toji's at the center of the booth, smooshed between shoko and satoru. he's looking at satoru in mild amusement, a small smirk on his face at the fool's stupidity as he too drinks from a glass of whiskey. he's wearing a low scooped black long sleeve that probably costs a thousand dollars and rightfully so, it makes him look so handsome. the price nothing compared to the pay he makes as a world champion mma fighter. 

you've known him for the better part of a year, a bit more actually. satoru met him near the end of your college career on a business whim with his father and has since made him a member of your friend group. you're not as close as you wish you could be, the immense nerves you have in fear of him even getting an inkling that you're attracted to him have always stopped you from initiating a more than necessary amount of text conversations or random phone calls. satoru could do that, you couldn't. god, you've even seen suguru have more dms with the raven haired fighter than you. even in the group chat all of you share, you can't bring yourself to connect with him aside from teaming up to tease satoru or sukuna. 

the last thing you ever conversed with him on your phone was a conversation you, surprisingly, started. he had told you about this one taco place and said you would love it based on your shared interest of food. when you told him you'd try it, he had told you, 'better send me a picture when you're there.' and you did. he had sent a laughing emoji when he asked if you liked the food and you said, 'I'd step on lime juice covered shards of glass to eat this again.'

that was the last thing you'd see in your messages between each other. 

he was close to four years older than all of you, except for sukuna, they were only a year apart. he had this endearing scar across his lip that curved so achingly whenever he smiled or grinned. he was built gorgeously, his back a sight to behold whenever you got to see him fight. and his eyes, fuck, the bright mix between grey and green always had you throwing a fit in your bed and wishing you could have him. 

nevertheless, you go back to paying attention to satoru. 

"you profit from so many other stocks satoru. that one stock is just a random occurrence."

"but the ladies won't want to go out with a guy who loses even one stock!" he looks up from where he's sprawled across the table, pouting at you.

"the fact that you're a millionaire at the age of 23 already gets enough ladies." you roll your eyes, unable to help the twitch of your lips at the sight of a little bit of drool seeping from the corner of his mouth

"it's not enough." he mutters

this time, you and sukuna share a deadpan face and you flick satoru's forehead, leaning only slightly across the table.

"yeah you're right. satoru gojo is such a loser for losing a stock, none of the girls are gonna want him now."

out of the corner of your eye, you see toji huff a little laugh at your antics, it makes your heart skip a beat a little that he finds you, even if its mostly satoru, funny.

"don't mock me!" satoru's cheeks are red as he scowls at you the best he can.

"she's not mocking." sukuna snorts, taking a swig of his beer.

"yea she is!" satoru points at you, "I never mock you about toji!"

everybody in the group stills except for satoru, who looks like he's still revved up about the subject.

much like cassie's reaction in euphoria when rue asked her how long she had been fucking nate, all you could do was nervously laugh.

"what–what are you talking about?"

you can feel your entire body starting to shake in fear. it was like you were in elementary again and some mean friend of yours was going to expose your crush on the popular boy of your grade. the fear was something you never thought you'd experience again.

"don't act stupidddd." satoru drags on, as if toji fucking zenin wasn't right next to him, "you're always talking about how bad you want toji and that ' I wish I could talk to him' bullcrap!" he says the last part in imitation of you with a high pitched voice.

suguru is staring at satoru in terror. sukuna is looking at you, in peril for you. shoko looks like she mentally checked out so she couldn't feel your embarrassment.

...and toji is staring at you, his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, like he doesn't know what to say.

your phone is in your pocket. check. your purse is on your lap. check. satoru can pay for your tab when he comes to his senses. check.

all you can do is abruptly get up and start to dash away, ignoring the yell for you from suguru. you don't look back, pure peril and adrenaline taking over your body as you make it out of the bar as quickly as possible, thanking whatever god that you chose to wear the easiest pair of heels to walk today.

the metro, the metro, the metro.

you look around for a quick second, only taking a second to remember what way the metro was before you rush in its direction. you feel a buzz coming from your pocket when you do, and you can only figure its one of your friends, trying to get you to come back.

you ignore it and rush down the escalator to the metro, making a glance behind you and noting that nobody was behind you. thank god. however, it doesn't stop your pace and your heels click and clack you all the way to a seat on the train to your part of town. 

fuck.

your entire body feels like its on fire and melting. 

toji knows you like him.

fuck.

suguru 5 missed calls

shoko girl where did you go?

sukuna 1 missed call dude, since when do you run track

you have to stop yourself from bashing your head on the pole in front of you. shakily, you press on suguru's contact to call him. you would tell him you were going to home so he wouldn't need to worry. what's the worst that could happen by now anyway. 

"y/n? hello?"

"I'm on the train home." you breathe

"that fast?" he doesn't exclaim, he's not the type to show his surprise so blatantly like his counterpart but you can hear his concern at the fact.

"yeah." you murmur, stomach churning now that the adrenaline's worn off.

suguru sighs, "satoru is scared you're going to kill him now."

and you can hear his wails in the background. 'no she's going to come after me!' 'I need to up my security!' 'is that her on the phone?! y/n pleasseee forgive me!'

your nose scrunches in annoyance and you blurt, "I'm not going to kill you stupid idiot!"

"she says she's not going to kill you." suguru says to satoru and you can hear what you presuppose is suguru pushing the drunk fiend off of him before he continues talking to you, "about toji–"

you feel your stomach drop at the mention of the name, he's still there with them, fully aware of your feelings for him

"ah! don't wanna hear it!"

the beginning of a call to your name from suguru went ignored as you immediately pulled your phone back and pressed the little red button.

the sky had literally fallen for you and now you had to deal with the aftermath—which you weren’t doing right this second, due to what you just did to your friends, but you’d do it eventually. being an adult made sure you had to face it sometime soon. its just that toji zenin learning from satoru gojo that you had a massive crush on him had not ever been something you expected. hell you never expected him to find out in any sort of way, ever. god, he was never supposed to know.

well, your fun was over, you had to move on now. if you wanted your friend group to stay normal and go back to the way it was, the looming existence of your feelings for the world renowned fighter had to die. you could tough it through that, you could come back and say ‘i thought it over and don’t have feelings for you anymore toji so don’t worry about acting weird with me. we’re casual friends like we’ve always been.’

a particular rattle of the train had you planting your feet on the floor purposefully and waiting for it to fully stop before you got up. you were five minutes from your apartment now, the walk you started now would pass by in a flash and you’d get to wallow in your misery soon.

ordering takeout sounded nice and so did watching your favorite show, especially after a warm shower, it had been quite chilly tonight. 

you had no room to really think about your predisposition in regards to toji zenin the next day, having to attend work then go to a work party afterwards at some high end restaurant/bar located at the top floor of a skyscraper overlooking tokyo. at work, you had to host various meetings and delegate new responsibilities you planned out the day before to your peers. it was all very hectic since it was all a completely new project. you had barely looked at your phone and even if you did, there wouldn’t be much to fret over, your friends had busy lives too. and right after, you had to head straight home and get ready for the party later that evening. 

you were sporting a tight black dress with light red flowers embellished across it later that night while you drank champagne and conversed with your coworkers. it had been a decent night so far and you had photos taken of you along with your peers, they’d probably be posted on the company website or social media. 

there had been some interesting work tea to listen in on too, your rival company was involved in it too and you were smushed against your coworkers in a red leather lined booth with dim lighting to listen in on all of it. it was more than worthy of your time by the end of it, you deemed. you would have to tell shoko and sukuna about it whenever you got the chance next time. yes, sukuna liked tea, he was an ass who loved hearing about ass things happening. 

the craving for a new glass of champagne sent you to the bar the moment the story ended, so you sat up on one of the chairs lining it while you waited for the bartender to get to you. you could see your ceo already getting shit-faced from where you were and it was funny, she always did that and always managed to get embarrassed the next time everyone saw her in the office. 

“are you part of that office party?”

a large and handsome figure suddenly appeared before you, blocking the view of your boss. he was wearing a rather expensive looking black suit with a silky blue dress shirt under, all of which couldn’t hide the obvious hard and sturdy muscles under them due to the complimentary tailoring. when you took in his face, you had to hold back the urge to widen your eyes. he was excessively good looking, with sharp and devilish features sketched across his face, intertwining hand in hand with his semi-long brown wavy hair pushed back and away from his face, save for a singular pretty strand falling near his brow and down his cheek. and that scar near his eye, it seemed so familiar…

you had to blink yourself back into reality when you realized you were taking a bit too long to answer his question. 

“yes,” you finally responded, trying your best to remain neutral and politely smile at him

he leaned against the open spot of the bar table between your seat and the empty one behind him, one hand in his pocket as he smiled down at you, “you’re very beautiful.”

your spit got caught in your throat at the blatant admission, this time unable to hide the way your head reeled back a little and started sporting a rising heat on your cheeks in slight shock, “oh–i–thank you.”

his smile grew wider at your flustered state and he reached a hand out for you to shake, “aizen sosuke.”

so at to remain polite, you shook his hand and repeated your name back to him in return for his, but in reality your head was falling in on itself

him.

fuck.

that’s aizen sosuke, the other world renowned mma fighter that you were very aware of due to his competitive nature and rivalry with toji. as far as you were aware, toji absolutely hated him, and you were sure aizen did too. anytime the rivalry came up into the conversation you saw toji’s eyes darken and his posture straighten in seething hate for the man. if satoru felt like getting on his nerves, as he did with everyone, he always knew to mention the tall brunette to get a visceral reaction out of him. it was bad. wait–

they have a fight tomorrow.

oh god, this was all types of fucked up. you've been pining after toji this whole year and he just found out yesterday and now you're talking to his rival who's very obviously flirting with you.

...but he was aizen sosuke, aside from that, and he just called you beautiful.

“is there any particular celebration happening?” he tilted his head to the side a little in curiosity 

“no, not this time,” you breathed, trying to shake the nerves off, “my boss just likes to treat us frequently and…well herself.”

“is that the only occasion where you get treated as of late?”

suave

and you can’t help the small knowing smile starting to creep up your lips, “as of late, yes, although she mostly does it in drinks.”

“dinner isn’t often?” he leans a little closer, his lips quirking up a little

“no,” you shake your head, aware of the way your eyes are smiling back at him too.

“allow me to treat you then,” he says confidently, watching as the bartender slides you your champagne

“In exchange for…?” you quirk a brow up at him as you take a sip

“what are you willing to give?” he bites back with a canine smile, still looming over you and infringing himself a little into your space even.

“nothing.” you snark back smoothly, pressing a finger into the middle expanse of his chest. he’s really sturdy, you note before continuing, “dinner with me should be a prize enough.”

he laughs at your response handsomely, reeling away from your space in accordance with the finger of yours pushing him away, “i’ll pay for everything. hell, send me the receipt for your outfit if you feel like it. i’m sure some sort of gratitude will overcome you.”

“ravenous,” you tut your glass in his direction, “i’ll politely decline then mr sosuke.”

“you haven’t even allowed yourself to grace over the thought of spending a night in my sheets,” he’s leaned down to speak so sensually next to your ear, “if your line of work is a stress, i can make you forget all about it.”

“i’ve allowed myself to grace it,” you speak back lowly, matching his game, “and i can only see you adding onto my stress by the end of it.”

“you’re oddly confident about that,” he smiles deviously, turning his head so that you’re face to face with him, “i aim to please, if any.”

“to please?” you question in haughty disbelief, squinting your eyes playfully at him

“to please,” he’s still smiling, eyes fleeting to your lips for a second, “i could relay the details if you’d like.”

“that’s unecessary,” you laugh at his boldness, turning your head away from his, “but it’s not something i’m interested in. im only looking for stability right now.”

“how unfortunate for the both of us tonight then,” he retreats back into his space before reaching into his pocket and taking out his phone, then splaying it out in his hand for you to take, “at least leave me your number. i can be capable of stability for the right woman.”

you feel your phone buzzing erratically that night, when you’ve washed away the night’s events and lay comfortably in your bed with a glass of water cradled to you. upon first looking at your messages, you were greeted by a paparazzi picture of you, courtesy screenshot from gojo, and aizen speaking at the bar. it was one of you smiling and looking up and him while he was leaning down, face inches away from yours as he returned your toothy grin.

satoru img_736 ?????? is that aizen sosuke?! dude are you fucking him rn

sukuna  take one of his trophy belts when you come back home

shoko lol he looks hot in blue

suguru  satoru, aren’t you supposed to be on your flight back from dubai right now?

satoru first class has excellent cell service ha and y/n hasn’t answered aizen def has his hands busy rn

shoko it’s only been five minutes since you sent that picture plus she’s at her work party, i think. she probably just met him there

satoru who cares bud looks like he’s ready to pounce 

sukuna heard he likes bdsm shit

satoru send pics of his paddle lol y/n

suguru both of you are despicable

shoko let us know if he has good stamina

suguru the three of you

all those messages had been sent ten minutes ago and you gaped at your friends’ mischief

y/n  I AM NOT WARMING AIZEN SOSUKE’S BED RN!

satoru liar, he’s in your mouth rn isn’t he

y/n  literally shut up toru i’m in my bed. no aizen near

sukuna  sure you are you looked real horned up smiling at him in the pics

y/n LMAO  he was a little funny ok, i couldn’t help laughing

shoko oh he was funny hm

suguru  actually worried a little at that statement wdym he was a little funny

y/n im going to crucify all of you he tried getting me to warm his bed and was very smooth abt it, but i said no gave him my number though :p since he asked for it

satoru was that before or after he told you you have great boobs img_737 could not have been more obvious about it

the stupid texts from your friend had you laughing out loud and setting down your glass of water on your bedside table before you pressed on the microphone button and sent a loud, giggly voice message for emphasis of your previous point.

“I didn’t fuck aizen! and he didn’t need to tell me i have great boobs, i saw him staring at them the entire time.”

sukuna you are not living this down if we see hickeys on you tomorrow

satoru what he said ^^

and there came the realization, 

toji and aizen’s fight was tomorrow

and all of you always showed up to toji’s fights ever since you befriended him

hell, fuck, you hadn’t even remembered he was in this group chat too. fuck fuck fuck. was this good? was this bad? he hadn’t said anything and he never really took too long to answer sometimes. no, this was the night before a fight, he’s probably already knocked out right now considering the late hour. but still, what of when he woke up to the messages tomorrow? would this help ease the knowledge of your being into him? oh she’s already flirting with some guy she’s not into me as much as a i thought so i dont feel as awkward around her anymore. but what if he thought you were doing this purposefully to get a reaction out of him and that you were so obsessed with him, you did it for that sole reason. you didn’t even want to come to the fight anymore. could you get out of it somehow? no, stupid satoru knows you’re free tomorrow and that would add more drama to your ‘up and dash’ incident from the bar yesterday night. 

you turned around and flailed on your bed, screaming into your pillow in the process.

regrettably, you show up to toji’s fight the following afternoon, trying your best to suppress the notion that aside from having to be near toji later, that aizen was going to see you too, and that whole ordeal would be something different entirely for you to deal with.

you dressed pretty well, you always did, but you added a little more effort than the usual when picking your outfit for the day. it was ufc fight night worthy and showed a generous amount of skin, the pictures you would upload later that night to instagram would be amazing. 

sukuna snickered when he saw you, pulling you in for a quick friendly hug as he said, “wanted zenin to see that you really didn’t fuck sosuke?”

you gaped at him and held back a smile as you smacked him with your purse, “i will hurt you ‘kuna.”

“try me, idiot,” he bites back with a snarky smile before sinking into one of the cage-side seats toji always managed to get for you guys. you had already said hi to the rest of your friends before getting to him and all felt normal until that dumbass made his dumb comment about your crush on toji. satoru, had of course, without a doubt, inspected you for hickeys and love bites immediately upon your arrival and had given you a suspicious look, as if to say, ‘you got away with it this time.’ he was always ridiculous like that, trying to cling onto random drama, even if he gaslit himself, all for his own fun. 

“i really did not expect to meet him last night at the bar,” you sighed after you sat down, taking in the bustling crowds of people gathering in the arena with him

“fuckin hilarous,” he all but barks evilly in amusement at your predicament before taking a swig of his beer, “paparazzi is gonna have a field day thinking you’re aizen’s girl now that you’re here.”

“WAIT!” 

you immediately sit upright at the realization and turn your body towards sukuna, jaw hung open and eyes wide in panic.

“holy shit. what the fuck.” you start having an existensial crisis and sukuna, the great friend he is starts snickering at your dilemma, finding humor in your panicked expression

“go sit near his side of the arena,” he jeers, “there’s some open seats.”

you run your hands down your face, stressed, “i thought the worst i had to deal with would be aizen seeing me here.”

“still is,” sukuna is still smirking at you evilly, “everything is shit about your day today.”

and then the lights dim and sporadic blue lights start sparkling across the arena

“get ready to say hi to your boyfriends,” sukuna teases with a canine grin before leaning over to see who would do their walkout first.

and it’s toji first.

he’s so beautiful and rugged, wearing skin tight black shorts that highlight every muscle underneath them and his eyes are glowing so pretty against the fluroscents, even if he has a murderous look on them right now. his staff are behind him as he walks through the arena, and looking at them almost distracts you from the way toji holds you in a cutthroat stare the moment he spots you, and only you.

you can hear satoru’s sly voice saying from near you, “nice.”

too scared to look away from toji, you can only speak to your friends without turning to address them, “why is toji giving me a death stare?”

“cause you fucked aizen,” satoru’s teasing lilt jeers

“yeah,” shoko agrees

“i did not fuck aizen,” you bite through gritted teeth as toji walks into the fighting cage, eyes still on you.

“tell that to him,” sukuna snickers

“don’t think about it too much,” suguru tries to comfort

then the lights starts blaring furiously again and aizen’s presence is announced throughout the entire arena. and you were really right about that suit being unable to hide those muscles, because without any clothing over them…they were enormous and mouth-watering.

all of you watch as he, accompanied by his staff too, walks to the cage, handsome smirk planted on his face. 

“would you look at that,” satoru starts, “he doesn’t have your scratch marks all over his back.”

“ha ha,” you sarcastically mutter back when aizen enters the cage and he situates himself in his side, taking in his surroundings, like those sitting in the cage side seats.

like you.

you know he’s spotted you because of the way his eyebrows raise in surprise and the wolfish smile that starts forming on his face the moment you make eye contact. and you know toji’s noticed too because of the way he turns to you too and keeps looking between you and the fighter in front of him.

satoru whistles while sukuna howls, both leaning down to elbow you from either side much to your annoyance

“scratch the paparazzi thinking youre here for aizen being the worst thing capable of happening today,” satoru sighs haughtily, “if toji loses, you’re in for it.”

you spin your head to him, panicked, “what?! is he gonna stop being my friend?!”

satoru shrugs, nonchalant, “don’t know, just keep watching sweetheart.”

so you did and it was unnerving.

when the fight started and toji and aizen started squaring up against each other, you could see aizen start speaking to him. his mouth was moving a little and a smile crept up on it when he jeered his chin in your direction, all of which you saw toji answer back with what looked like single word short answers and a sneer on his face.

“wonder what they’re talking about,” suguru questioned softly

“i have a small idea,” satoru said under his breath before toji threw the first punch and the chaos ensued.

the fight consisted of a lot of hisses and ows coming from everyone, including you, in the arena. toji and aizen were really putting in the work to beat the crap out of each other. ten minutes had passed and toji was already bleeding from his mouth and aizen had blood falling down his nose. both of their bodies were beat too, red splotches blossoming all over them as a reaction to the various kicks and punches both of them sent to each other. 

however it looked like it was reaching its cusp when aizen got toji in a headlock and muttered something while looking at you. 

which must have given toji enough energy to quickly peel himself off and knock his face in a couple of times. and when aizen stood up straight after it to counter, he was bleeding profusely from his mouth and smiled so devilshly at you before wandering into toji’s space again. 

“hot,” shoko commented while gnawing on a toothpick

and that continued, the smiles at you from him, with his questionably hot bleeding mouth while he sported a beating from toji or gave it to him. but it started dying down when toji actually started knocking him in so close to his own victory. and there wasn’t much aizen could do until toji pinned him down and forced him into submission,

all while aizen stared at you and even had the gall to wink while his loss was announced

satoru whistled again, “the balls on this guy. surprised you aren’t soaked right now.”

people were starting to filter out when the winner and loser were officially announced and were beginning to get escorted back to their locker rooms.

“come on,” sukuna muttered as he drank the last of his beer and got up with the rest of you to go to toji’s room.

when all of you are rushed into toji’s locker room, you somehow wound up standing next to him, where he’s seated on a bench and wiping the blood off his face with a hand towel.

“congrats,” you mumble, along with the others

“what’d he say to you during the fight,” leered satoru, both of his hands in his pockets and his shades over his eyes again now that he doesn’t have to watch the fight.

“none of your business,” muttered toji after wiping his face again, “where’s my fucking water?”

“here sir, here,” one of his goonies said while weaving through the people in the room and nervously handing him a water bottle

“thanks,” he huffs with a small glare before opening the bottle and starting to chug from it

“who do you fight after this,” sukuna asks

toji shrugs and looks towards his manager, who then starts to explain the next sequence of events after this win. and it lasts for thirty minutes before everyone falls quiet and toji gets up abruptly

“alright, get out. ‘m gonna change,” he all but demands for everyone to leave ominously

and you listen to his words, letting the half closest to the door start to filter out before you make to move your feet and suddenly toji’s holding onto your arm.

“where do you think you’re going?” he huffs when the last person leaves the room and the door clicks shut

you feel like a deer caught in headlights and feel yourself start to grow nervous, “outside…to let you change?”

“you gonna fuck him?”

and you gaslight yourself into pretending you don’t know what he’s talking about, “who?”

he deadpans at you with bored and almost annoyed green eyes and you have to look away from him when you murmur, “no…i don’t know. listen, me having a thing for you isn’t that serious and if i entertain aizen it isn’t so you can finally notice me or something, i just–”

“when the fuck did i say i never noticed you before?”

your eyes widen and you didn’t know what to say

“what? you think it’s so easy for me to try and talk to your dumbass too?” he pulls you closer by the arm he’s already holding, scowl etched across his face

“what,” is the only thing you can get out in your nerves

toji glares at you, “when silver spoon said you wish you could talk to me, did it ever cross your smartass that i don’t know how to talk to you either?”

“no,” you let out meekly, struggling to make eye contact with him and feeling your heart rate go up by a million beats per minute

“so,” toji tugs on your arm again, “are you gonna fuck him?”

you look away to a locker near when you mumble, “do you not want me to?”

“no, i fucking don’t.”

“then i won’t.”

“great,” he lets go of you and now centers himself to stand in front of you, quirking a brow up when he asks, “you gonna let me take you out on a date?”

you have to fight the urge to fiddle with your hands as you look back up at him, “when?”

“tonight.”

“shouldn’t you rest after a fight!?” your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets, pupils darting to the blood staining his lips

“not if i don’t feel like it,” he shrugs, before gaining a threatening aura, “or do you wanna bite the bullet and get lunch right now? you won’t have time to get a pretty dress on.”

panicked at his suggestion, you mindlessly put your hands against his chest and plead, “no! tonight is fine, tonight is fine!”

“thought so,” he huffs back at you, corners of his mouth quirking up a little 

and put on a pretty dress you did, a red sultry one that teetered between innocence and sex. it had toji staring you down as you took the unfathombly large bouquet of flowers he brought for you from his arms and set it on your kitchen island.

“where are we going?” you turned to look at him while he drove you to whatever destination he had in mind for tonight, playing with the metal clasp of your handbag

toji had been leaned against the driver side door of his car, with one hand holding onto his chin while the other steered, he seemed oddly pensive.

“allen’s,” he gruffly swallowed before straightening up and putting both of his hands on the steering wheel. you weren’t surprised by the mention of the michelin star restaurant, he could afford it and had the status for it anyways

so you couldn’t help but speak, “are you nervous?”

his entire body tensed visibly and his eyes slightly widened, glancing at you for a half second before looking back at the road and relaxing, “what do you think smartass?”

a smile crept its way onto your face, “well i am too.”

“you gonna run away again?” he side eyed you with a slight gleam of mischief

your face flushed and your mouth gaped, turning to look at the road too now instead of at him, crossing your arms as you huffed, “what else was i supposed to do? not like you had anything to say either, had your mouth open like a fish when i got exposed…”

“least i didn’t run,” he huffed back

“well you didnt try to contact me after,” you sasssed, sensing his growing irritation

“you’re a real pain in my ass,” he glared at you, “you know that right?”

“and you’re not acting like the guy who just won a fight earlier today.”

toji had just parked outside the restaurant and splayed his hands across the steering wheel, trying to control his breathing from what you could tell. 

“i didn’t know what to say, okay negative nancy?” he finally turned to you, green eyes striking under the night sky and neon lights from the restaurant name shining through, “and then when i was going to call your pretty ass the next day, i saw the pictures of fuck face raw dogging you at the bar.”

“he didn’t fuck me,” you whined in complaint as you splayed yourself across the center console of his car and batted your scorned eyes at him, “how many times do i have to tell you guys?”

“well you were real close to,” he smirked at you before something serious fell across his features and his eyes darted to your handbag, “matter a fact, block his number right now.”

your head perked up at the demand and you blinked at him, “i dont have his number.”

toji squinted his eyes at you, “you said you gave him your number in the group chat.”

“yeah but he hasn’t called me or anything, so i never got his.”

the ravenette rolled his eyes, taking his keys out of the ignition and pointing at you with them, “when he does, you better fucking block him.”

“i will,” you nod obediently, watching as he starts to get out of the car

you move to take off your seat belt and he leans back into the vehicle with a warning look, “i’ll unbuckle it, don’t move.”

and he does, closing the door of his side before walking over to you and opening the door to kneel in and take off your seat belt, then giving you a helping hand to get out.

“thank you,” you murmur appreciatively as you watch your step before landing a quick kiss to his cheek. and if it affected him, you wouldn’t know, he said nothing and held onto your arm softly while he guided the both of you to the restaurant entrance.

“you look hot by the way,” he breathed out before opening the door and entering with you, giving you no chance to respond when the hostess immediately greeted the both of you and began to lead you to a table.

it was intimate, the table. it was small and dainty, relatively little space would be between you and the gruff fighter. and both of your seats were at the same corner of the table, making the distance shorter than it would have been sitting across from each other. 

toji instinctively pulled out your chair for you and muttered out a sound of acknowledgement when you thanked him as he sat down. 

“you gonna drink?” he quirked a brow at you, gesturing towards the menu of alcohol planted right in front of the both of you

“a little red wine sounds nice,” you try to say politely, “you?”

“nah,” he responds while raising a hand for a waiter to come by, “i need to drive you home. you like sweet or bitter wine?”

“sweet.”

and so he orders a wine for you to drink right off the bat, saying a thank you as the waiter walks away to get the bottle.

“does your mouth hurt?”

toji hums mindlessly, as if his head had been somewhere else before he perks up again and says, “come again sweetheart?”

the pet name had you a little fluststered in speaking again, feeling your body grow hot as you gestured to his mouth meekly, “your mouth, it was bleeding after the fight, does it still hurt?”

the corners of his mouth start to rise as he encroaches into your space, eyes lusty, “nothing a little kiss won’t make better.” 

your breath hitches and you feel like pushing him away to hide how easily he’s affected you, “you’re shameless.”

toji is inches away from your face now, and he tilts his head in fake hurt, “i took those punches from the lowlife trying to steal my girl away, doesn’t that mean i deserve a reward?”

you try to keep your face serious as you deadpan, willing your need to laugh away as best you can, “your girl?”

“my girl,” toji grins sleazily 

you’re about to bite back when the waiter comes back with the bottle of wine toji ordered for you and the menus for tonight’s dinner. toji takes the bottle from the waiter and insists on serving you your glass himself while you begin to look at the menu. choosing a meal was difficult with all the delicious options available, every description making your mouth water, you wanted everything. when you complained to toji about not knowing what to get because of all the options, he brushed you off while still reading his menu.

“get whatever you want, we can come again and again until you try everything.”

well that’s one way to make you horny

so you settled for these sauteed calamari rings with a savory sounding sauce while toji got a steak under the pretense that ‘i need to stock up on protein after fights.��

while the both of you eat, good conversation comes up and the previous tense awkwardness of the both of you goes away.

“i haven’t dated anyone since my sophomore year of college,” you say while taking a sip of wine to wash down a bite of calamari

toji quirks up a brow in disbelief at your statement while he takes a sip of his water, a scowl almost, as if he’s offended for you, “what about that emo lookin kid—“

you tilt your head in confusion, not being able to pinpoint who he’s talking about, “emo?”

toji rolls his eyes, snapping his fingers at himself, “that kid, can’t even remember his name, with the blue hair, you know–“

“grimmjow?!” you gape, eyebrows knit

“yea that fucker,” toji nods before he takes a bite of his steak

“I never even got to have a thing with grimmjow,” you deadpan, swiveling the glass of wine in your hand, “we kissed like once and then he told me he wasn’t ready for anything the next day.”

“silver spoon made it seem like you guys fucked.”

you sigh in agonizing pain that your white haired freak best friend loves to say you fuck frequently, “satoru says that because he feels my dry spell more than me. horny ass. he wishes i could get laid.”

“what,” toji snickers, “haven’t fucked in a year or something?”

this was going to be a pain

“three years,” you clarify, staring at him with bored eyes because you know you’re going to get a reaction because of this, “with my ex was the last time. and i lost it to him.”

toji eyebrows immediately raise and he looks at you like you’re insane, “you’re lying.”

“don’t you think id rather say i just got laid two weeks ago or something?” you quizically ask him

“well yeah,” he scoffs, “but i'd rather you not at that point.”

you knowingly squint your eyes at him, jabbing a fork of calamari, “why’s that?”

and you laugh when toji drops his napkin back onto his lap very done with you and blankly stares you down.

“how long have you liked me anyway,” you continue, hoping and praying on the small chance that toji pined for you as much you did for him so that you didn’t feel as pathetic

he stays quiet for a bit, as if he didn’t hear you, and you feel embarrassed that you’re about to repeat himself until he looks up from his meal and says, “ever since business boy posted a picture of you before i got the chance to meet all of you.”

hoping and praying did you well

you had to physically stop yourself from giggling like a schoolgirl by holding your hands in fists under the table, “and..why did you never make a move?”

“i thought you had a crush on sukuna for a good four months,” he shrugged and if you were seeing right, there was a pink hue dusting the tips of his ears, “after i figured out you didn’t, i pussied out because i didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

then his eyes fixated on you, “what about you huh?”

you felt yourself growing small in your seat, beginning to play with the ends of your dress, “well, when we met and you told lent me your jacket because my cardigan was thin…”

“both of us have been idiots this entire year huh,” toji joked, laughing at himself and you

“yeah,” you meekly agreed, taking a woeful gulp of wine until you came to a realization, “wait, is that why sukuna thought you didn’t like him for the first few months of knowing him?!”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” the fighter grunted, looking to the side as he drank another gulp of water

by the time your date with toji ended you were as happy as could be, having felt fulfilled that yes you were on a date with your long time crush, but that you were also very compatible and had amazing chemistry. you kissed briefly, outside the restaurant when your heel got caught on a pebble and he held you upright so as to stop you from falling. you pulled him in for it to thank him and he held onto your waist so fucking well, the fact that his hand was almost the same size as your back was dizzying. 

he had asked for another date the following afternoon for brunch with him and you couldn’t deny, wanting to spend more time with him. you were telling satoru this on the phone before he said…

“so when are you guys getting it on?”

if you could, you’d throw something at him through the phone right now.

“you are such a pervert!”

“i am not,” satoru defends, “okay maybe a little, ha. but in all honesty when are you two going to rip off the bandaid? it’s not like you’re strangers and you have to do that awkward period of oh im respecting your space crap. oh my god, does he know you’ve never gotten head?”

your cheeks flush hot, “no.”

“this is hilarious,” satoru jeers, “try to last longer than two seconds when he eats it.”

you sprawl across your bed and almost scream, “stop, because im going to be really embarrassed if that happens!”

“i think it’d be a miracle if it didn’t happen,” you can hear the millionaire open another candy wrapper before stuffing the sweet into his mouth, “so when are you sealing the deal?”

“when even is the appropriate time?” you gaze at your ceiling, feeling hot all over your body and embarrassed that you’re talking to your friend about having sex with one of your other friends

“personally, i think he would’ve done it by tonight already.”

“you think?”

“he looks at your boobs when you aren’t looking.”

“what?! why didnt you tell me this before?” you sit upright in your bed

“him wanting to fuck you is obvious, i just didn’t know if he liked you, so i kept it to myself.”

“unfair,” you huff, falling back into your comforter, staring at the ceiling in silence until you felt your phone beginning to vibrate

pending call - toji

“toru, ill catch up with you some other time, toji’s calling me,” you usher out and immediately accept the incoming call before the snow haired devil can say something cheesy.

“hi,” you breathe out

“hey,” toji’s gruff voice responds through the small speaker, “how are you feelin?”

“about the food or you?” you tease

“both.”

“wish i could’ve eaten some of that peach cobbler the couple next to us ordered,” you fluff up a pillow behind you, wondering if you should go forward with a thought before you think fuck it, and say, “wish i could’ve kissed you more.”

“i can get you both angel.”

“what are you doing?”

“just put some patches on my back, ‘s sore,” theres a moment of silence before he quips, “was thinking about you.”

“me too,” you sigh, hoping he can’t hear how dreamy you unintentionally sounded

“what about me?” you can hear the smirk in his voice

and you indulge him a little, just to fuck with him, “how big your hands are.”

“you like ‘em?”

“mhm, they looked nice with the bruises on them too.”

“ ‘s that why you kept holding onto them?”

“maybe,” you watch as you kick your feet up in the air, finding something to exert your energy 

“yours are soft,” he breathes, “i like it.”

“you know what else is soft?”

“what?” you can hear his energy shift

“my hair, i use really good conditioner and product.”

“fuckin tease.”

you turned around in your bed to hold your head in one of your hands, “what ever do you mean by that toji?”

“you always pull shit like this and you know it. you made me think i forgot your birthday last week.”

you laugh at his offense, noting that you did get a good scare out of him last week when you pretended he said your birthday wrong, “okay that was a one time thing though.”

“and then you told me the chinese restaurant i sent you to had shitty lomein.”

he had recommened the restaurant to you last month based on the premise that the lomein was good as hell and that you’d like it. you didn’t think he’d fall for it, but you told him it was crap just to fuck with him and he couldn’t function for a minute. 

“okay okay maybe i do pull shit like that every once in a while,” you digress

“every once in a while…” the scowl on toji’s face is quite loud when he responds

“every once in a while,” you punctuate with a sing songy voice

after your brunch date with toji the following day, he took you vase shopping because when he showed up at your place to pick you up he had another very large bouquet of flowers in his hands for you. and unfortunately, you couldn’t even fit all the flowers from the night before into the three vases you had. 

he took you to a high end home furniture store that you were pretty sure millionaires only shopped in, your theory being proven when a rug you passed by was the exact same one satoru kept in his apartment and shamelessly replaced when shoko got red wine on it. 

“woah,” you say when you get to the vase section, “this is way different than the ones at ikea.”

“see anything you like?” toji moves to stand next to you while you take in the vast number of beautiful vases in front of you

and at first you think you have nothing to say, unable to pick from all the beauties in splayed out for you, until your eyes spot a pretty almost seashell shaped vase, with defining ridges, colored gold, it was beautiful and you wouldn’t mind a number of those decorating your apartment. 

“i like this one,” you murmur as you walk up to it, noticing the slight iridescent shimmers on it

you can see toji raise his hand and make some sort of mannerism towards someone, you assume a worker, out of the corner of your eye after you say that. 

which led to the predicament of accompanying toji into your apartment numerous times as he carried the multiple boxes carrying the same vase into your apartment. you weren’t allowed to, he had demanded. he even eyed you threatningly when you made to pick up your own box to take with him. 

by the time he had brought in the last box you were very antsy, trying to find something to do in return for him like offer a water or food, or what fucking ever, just anything in exchange for his buying you multiple luxury vases and carrying them into your apartment. 

“i did that shit because i like you and i think you deserve it,” toji huffed, eyeing you pointedly while he accepted the glass of water you had offered him, “don’t get all weird.”

“okay…” you nervously looked to the side as you traced invisible lines across your kitchen island, “at least sit for a while before we have to unpack them and put the flowers in them. please?”

the tall and buff fighter let your small and nimble hands drag him to your couch by the arm and then guide him to sit on it, with you following after.

“I was watching grey’s anatomy before you came over,” you start, looking at him earnestly, “do you wanna watch some with me?”

toji set the glass of water on your coffee table then splayed his arm behind you on the couch and nodded, “go for it.”

“okay,” you smiled lightly then, much to his obvious surprise, crawled over him and reached for the remote next to him, tucked into the corner of the couch just a little, then went back to your original spot next to him.

your eyes were focused on opening netflix when he spoke, “is that the uh–the show with the doctors and crap?”

you pressed play when you set the remote off to the side and leaned more into his space, “yeah! it’s a little cheesy, but it’s fun to watch, at least before a certain season. after that it just goes downhill.”

“alright,” the ravenette said, leaning closer to your space too

“glow in the dark,” toji exhales a light laugh at the mention of glow in the dark condoms

“ever tried those?” you look up at him from where you’re tucked underneath his arm, hand splayed across his chest and abdomen area

“never knew they were a thing,” he smirks, “you?”

“i don’t even know what head’s like,” you roll your eyes, “as if i would’ve gotten to the exploration stage of fucking.”

you can see toji visibly stiffen at your comment

“what?”

“there’s no way in hell that fucker didn’t eat you out,” he’s sat up straighter now, eyes pining you under his gaze

“well there is a way in hell,” you move your hands as if to gesture ‘it is what it is’, “he didn’t like the taste.”

“what, he got a wonder dick or something?” he looked annoyed, “that do the job?”

“i did not ever orgasm, so no,” you laugh, finding it funny how pissed he’s getting on your part, “why are you so pissy for me zenin?”

he gives you one glance before looking forward at the tv to avoid your gaze, sighing a little, “it’s stupid, is all.”

“me not getting head?” you’re still staring at him even though he’s watching george and alex bicker on the tv

“yeah,” he nods

and satoru’s words play through your mind again, ‘personally, i think he would’ve done it by tonight already.’

but you shake the thought away before you start something stupid and reassume your cuddling position next to toji, watching as it gets revealed that the neurosurgeon lover has a wife already. the previous piece of information making toji uncharacteristically scrunch his nose and look as if he wants to spit at the screen. 

“what,” he looks at you, eyes waiting in earnest for the next episode, “that the end? start the next one.”

“are you sure,” you giggle at his sudden interest in the soap opera.

toji sinks into his spot on the couch, bringing you closer to him with a hand on the skin just above your knee, “yeah, play it.”

while you take the remote to start the new season, you laugh, then place it down before leaning up and placing a chaste kiss on the fighter’s lips, “you’re cute.”

he gives you a bored look, obvious in expressing that cute is not something he wants to be described as, but you can also feel the grip he has on you twitch for a second. 

“what?” you smile, “can i not call you cute?”

“can’t you find something better?” he says, trying not to roll his eyes

“not when you’re acting cute,” you sit up a little and grab his face to place a kiss on his forehead, then his nose, which scrunches up cutely at the action. you can see toji try to chase your lips just the slightest when he sees your mouth fall away from his nose and wander so close to his mouth. you use the observation to tease him, making it look as if the next destination was his lips until you go further down and land a peck on his chin. 

toji’s had enough of it, it seems, when he swoops a hand under your jaw and near your neck and guides you to his own mouth. he's soft about it, simply trying to taste your lips and memorize the feeling of your lips on his, until–you dont know who–one of you takes a sensual turn and makes it much more intense than need be. although unable to find the culprit of before, you can say that toji’s first in sliding his tongue into your mouth moments after. he does it slowly, flicking the muscle to tease at your own before retreating, as if waiting for yours to give the same response and you do, shyly dipping yours in to lick across his tongue. almost like he lured you in, he intertwines his muscle with yours upon the interaction and you can’t help the small high pitched moan that escapes you. 

on some sort of instinct, toji uses the hand on your knee to hook it under his grasp and guide you to his lap, planting you thigh to thigh on top of him. your hands, having forgotten what to do in these situations, awkwardly place themselves on his chest, shakily feeling the hardness of his chest underneath them. he grabs onto one of them, caressing the skin of it, while his other hand finds comfort in your waist. 

a second moan makes it way out of your throat and toji’s hips buckle up subconsciously, which makes you gasp into his searing kisses. the action has you noting that he’s hard underneath you and the exact size of him is a curiosity to you, the thought making you reach a hand down to hold him. 

he’s big, an ‘it’s going to hurt’ kind of big. 

“don’t…” he grunts out, letting go of the hand holding onto his chest and reaching down to take off the one holding his length, “touch unless you’re ready.”

“i’m ready,” you shift your hips atop of him and being forced to look at him when he pulls away from the kiss, lips pink and splotched and his pupils blown out.

“I can wait,” he says, trying to control his breathing, the expanse of his chest rising and falling so controlled even though the look in his eyes says otherwise, “don’t worry about me, if that’s it.”

“well I can’t,” you tug at one of the buttons of his shirt for emphasis, then guide one of his hands underneath your skin and near your inner thighs, “feel me.”

slowly and hesitantly, toji moves his hand onto your panties and runs a finger across the excessively damp wet spot of them.

“fuckin tease,” he groans at the touch, sliding his finger across again and again, earning mewl after mewl from you

“do you want me?” you shyly pant as you hold onto his free arm, fighting the need to put your head in his shoulders

“yeah, i fucking want you,” toji growls as he pushes you onto his chest by a hand on your back

he maintains eye contact with you when his hand pushes your panties out of the way and immediately slips a finger into your heat. the pressure of his gaze turns feral when your eyebrows knit and a loud moan leaves your lips.

for some reason, trying to excuse the loud reactions he’s about to get from you, you heave, worried, “i—i haven’t done this in a long time and–oh mmmm–i won’t be able to help myself.”

“think i care?” he huffs, concentrating on you when he slips a second finger inside and curls them both curiously to find your spot, which he does, smirking a little when your hold on him grows tighter and your hips wiggle at the pleasure, “scream all you want princess.”

he starts jutting in his fingers quickly in and out of you after the words leave his mouth, and the stretch is so good, so unlike your small hands that haven’t been able to do crap for years, that you start squealing and hug toji in by the back of his neck and shoulders.

“there you go, there you go baby,” he coos, smiling a little at the cute sounds you’re making and relishing in the squelch of your pussy while his fingers abuse it. 

“wait–wait–” you heave, beginning to push him away, even though the advance is useless due to his iron grip and try to explain an embarrassing admission so as to warn him, “i feel like im gonna–”

he gives you no chance to finish your sentence when he punches in a third finger and makes you nearly scream.

“what?” he breathes, lusty eyes boring into your own, “you gonna cum?”

“no–”you shake your head, trying your best to still relay your message even though you can feel your orgasm taking its final steps near, “well yeah–but–but–”

your stomach starts dropping and toji picks up his pace so brashly that you release almost instantaneously all over him. your legs twitch uncontrollably and you bury your face into his neck while squealing through the feeling.

“shit.” he utters, still fingering you through it, “fuck, fuck.”

“i squirt,” you almost cry, embarrassed and shaken up by your orgasm, unable to look at him, “i’m sorry, i tried to tell–”

“shut up,” toji spanks your pussy and doesn’t care when you yelp as he throws you with your back on the couch and starts to tug your panties off, “you’re gonna do it again.”

submitting to him, you shimmy out of your dress nervously while he hastily undoes the buttons of his dress shirt. the burly fighter drags you, so your legs dangle off the couch before he kneels down and places his hands underneath your thighs to spread you out for him

“look at me when i eat you,” toji pinches your clit to get your full attention on his face, “don’t close your eyes or look at the ceiling, none of that shit. got that?”

you nod your head impishly, hesitantly putting a hand on your stomach, itching to hold onto his face or his hair. 

his eyes drift to your sex and you can see a hint of irritation paint itself across his features when he mutters under his breath, “didn’t like the taste my ass.”

within milliseconds, toji saves no mercy and starts to eat you out like a man starved. his mouth is hot and wet, and you don’t know where the mess is coming from, his lips or yours. the man spits onto your pussy and so sloppily makes out with your sticky heat, interchanging between that and sucking so harsly against your clit. 

your legs are twitching so wildly and the only thing keeping you from scrambling away is toji’s hands that are now wrapped around your thighs to keep you pressed against him. 

you’re basically screaming now, in utter bliss from the heavenly feeling, unable to speak. 

his eyes keep looking up to bore into yours all while he aggressively kisses your pussy. it has your breath picking up rapidly and goosebumps rising all across your skin. his tongue laps across your lips so foreign yet so deliciously that you can’t help the increasing reach of your orgasm.

“I'm close!” you squeal after a particular suck of your clit, thinking that he needs to heed to the warning because you’re so sure you’re about to squirt on his face

all toji does in response is growl and let go of one of your thighs to start fingering you with two digits rapidly.

he stares you down while you struggle to keep the eye contact, your whole body beginning to twitch uncontrollably and your vision starting to see white until the invisible cord snaps and you feel an immense relief wash over you–and him.

the juices seeping from you seem to spur him on and he doesn’t move in any sort of way to avoid them, instead choosing to lap at them and drink it in all while making growls and groans of satisfaction. 

he’s still going at it when you come to, and you start shuffling away–well try to–from him, yelping, “it’s sensitive toji!”

he seemingly listens to you after a few seconds, running his tongue flat against your folds before he lifts his face from you. the entire lower half of his face is covered in your juices and his spit and he looks outright animalistic as he looks back at you. 

he gets up and stalks towards you until he’s on top of your body and dives down to kiss you aggressively, making you taste yourself in the process. it’s so erotic, it has your pussy fluttering all over again. 

“fuck,” he groans deeply into your mouth, “you don’t have any condoms right doll?”

you shake your head a little, but you wrap your arms around his shoulders and offer something else, “i’m on the pill…so i don’t really mind…”

you can feel his breath hitch and you’re quick to add, “but! if you’re not comfortable without one–”

“you fine with me blowing a load in you?” he mutters and seizes the chance to nip at your bottom lip

“i wanna feel it,” you admit, glad he’s still kissing you so he doesn’t see the flustered look on your face.

“dirty fucking angel,” he says heavily against your mouth before he gets up to undo his belt buckle and push both his pants and briefs in one motion.

he doesn’t even really spring up free like you expected him to. his dick is so hung that well, it hangs. the size looks bigger than what you predicted already when you touched it earlier. your ex, the only person you’ve had sex with, was the stark opposite of this, easy to fiddle with and well below average. the difference of having toji’s thick length right in front of you now had you clenching around nothing. 

“you like it?” toji smirks at you while he goes up to you again and moves you so that you’re completely laying across the couch before he climbs up on top of you between your legs.

“mhm,” you nod, looking down and hoping his tip can at least graze your folds while it bobs down near your inner thigh and that’s when you get an idea.

“can we–” you almost hesitate, “can we do a mating press?”

“was planning on it,” he says gruffly when he leans forward and pins your legs next to your head. 

you giggle at the words and he smiles down at you, a moment of innocence before the both of you look down and he’s using one hand to guide his tip into you.

the pop of his tip inside of you is overwhelming. you feel like you’re going to push him out in a single clench with how girthy he is. and you think the previous two, very wet, orgasms are what lets him slide into you, even though it stings. 

“shit’s fucking tight,” toji groans, both hands back to your legs while he and you watch him pull out nearly all the way and sink back in.

“ ‘s so big,” you huff, feeling like he’s outright in your stomach, “feel so full.”

“bet you do,” he sounds so serious when he says it, still entranced when he starts to pound in and out of you at an average pace that, although it’s not fast, still has you starting to feel tears brim near your waterline

the man above you starts groaning in sync with your moans and whines, shuddering a little everytime you clench and suck him in

“beautiful,” toji groans under his breath and you can feel his pace start to pick up a bit, “getting fucked on a huge cock, little princess slut. tiny fucking hole’s begging for help.”

the mean words mixed with his praise has you feeling epically embarrassed yet turned on all at the same time and all you can do is moan in response 

“you like getting called a slut?” he presses himself against you, almost chest to chest, smirking evilly while he raggedly breathes, “or princess? or you like me talking about splitting your pussy open?”

“all…of it,” you gasp through two punctual thrusts of his, he’s hit your cervix multiple times but the pleasure is so overwhelming, you’re starting to enjoy it

toji snickers a little, opening your legs a bit further to expose more of your torso, your tits being part of it and his intention, you realize when he goes down to pop one of your nipples into his mouth. he swirls the bud around his mouth and bites at it with his teeth while he starts to jackhammer into you, making sure each thrust is deep.

his balls start making a pap–pap sound everytime he thrusts back in, accompanying the wet squelch of toji dragging himself inside of you repeatedly.

it’s rough and hard, but more intimate than anything considering the few words being exchanged. the both of you are more concentrated on each other’s presence and reactions because after toji comes back up from your tits, he finds your lips and starts to makeout with you languidly. 

the grip on your thighs grows bruising when you mix tongue into the kissing, coaxing him to do the same too. 

“feel so fucking good,” he hisses when you clench around him uncontrollably, a sign of your incoming orgasm, “pussy’s close isn’t it”

you nod instead of speaking, concentrating on the delicious drag of his veins against your walls and the prodding of his tip at your g-spot

toji leans close to your ear, voice hard and lusty as he starts to mutter sweet and dirty nothings, “such a pretty girl, taking this cock so good.”

he then bites your ear softly, “you gonna milk my cock like a good girl? squeeze my load all out?”

shivering, you nod again and make a whimper in response 

“squirt all over me angel, i know you want to,” toji starts plummeting a bit harder into your sweet spot, finding it again, the action has you looking down at where you’re both connected unable to fathom how large he is and just how he’s making it all fit inside, “look at me.”

one of his hands is gently under your chin now, guiding you to look at him since your eyes had strayed from his own. he’s breathing heavy now and his irises are almost completely gone considering the blown out size of his pupils. 

“cum with me sweetheart,” the hand from your chin snakes its way down to your clit so as to start rubbing harsh circles for you, and you just know you’re about to make a bigger mess than before, “wrap that pretty pussy around me. milk the shit out of this dick. cum’s all yours baby.”

“ ‘s too much,” you whine, breathing ragged, “i don’t think–oh my god!”

you feel the pleasure wash over your entire body and come out all over toji’s lower abdomen accompannied by the profuse hard flutters of your pussy on his cock. you release a combination between a whine and a cry, feeling completely wrecked by the sensation.

toji follows you the moment your release gets all over him, his hips stiling and jerking into you roughly, this time giving hard kisses to your cervix instead of the fleeting small pecks from earlier. his cum feels immense, its warmth you can feel pooling inside you as toji sputters it into you.

“shit! fuck!” he groans, watching himself push it all into you before looking back up and taking you into a passionate kiss

“atta girl,” he utters after swiping his tongue across your teeth, one of his hands coming up to tentatively hold one of your breasts, “that feel good?”

tired, you weakly nod and sigh a weak, “mhm”

he lets go of the one hand holding your thigh up and moves both of your legs so that they wrap around his waist. he hasn’t pulled out yet.

“gonna buy you a new couch,” his lips twitch a little as he looks at the surrounding area near the both of you, “shit’s soaked.”

“toji!” you whine, embarrased, and pull him into you so you can hide your face.

toji doesn’t let you, instead pulling away so he can get a good look at you and grin, “you got spare sheets?”

“yeah?” you furrow your eyebrows, “but what does that have to do with the couch?”

“it doesnt. I’m fucking you on your bed later,” he shifts both of your bodies so that you can sit on top of him now just as he shifts the conversation back to what it was, “we’ll go shopping for the couch tomorrow. make it celebratory gift.”

“for the first time we fucked?”

“nah,” he lands a teasing kiss on your nose, “for your first time.”

you roll your eyes at him, “just because its been three years–”

“don’t care, doesn’t count if you never came with shrimp dick.”

a fit of giggles escapes you as you press yourself up against him for physical support, “yeah okay, it’s my first time gift.” 

then your eyes stray to his very wet clothes on the floor next to yours, “sorry i got your clothes dirty though. I don’t think i have anything for you to wear either.”

toji puts both of his thumbs at the corner of your mouth to make your pout disappear, he snickers at himself for it, “i’ll call my assistant to drop off some clothes here.” 

“how long will that take?”

“long as our shower,” toji huffs as he lifts the both of you up and starts walking to your restroom.

“and how long will that take?” you laugh, wiggling your eyebrows at him and clinging onto his shoulders.

“three more orgasms,” he comments, opening the door and leading the both of you to a very steamy shower. 

“you haven’t even made the call yet!”

“shut up.”

[sweetiecutie]

Warnings: smut, mdni, monsterfucking

Even though underbed monster! Simon is a brat and very often a nuisance, he still cares about you!! You are his favourite hooman after all, his feeder, gladly allowing him to nourish off your energy, giving him small treats and indulging in all his little whims. So of course Ghost is worried when you come back home after having an especially bad day, all hot and bothered, chucking down a few glasses of whiskey to ease your mind - but it didn’t seem to help much. Ghost feels the need to soothe you, to make you forget all the bad events of the day, empty your head of all the thoughts and worries, to make you feel good and loved!

That’s why your not so little monster urges you to take off your clothes, his tentacles spreading your thighs open, exposing your gorgeous pussy to his crimson eyes. One tiny tentacle wraps itself around the needy bud of your clit, rubbing it softly yet firmly, causing wetness to drip down the cleft of your ass in a matter of minutes. Simon makes sure to hit and nudge all of the special spots within your soft cunny as he stuffs you full of himself, making you squeal and writhe in pure pleasure under him, your eyes rolling back and toes curling as you cum repeatedly.

And only after turning you into a sobbing boneless mess, all fucked out and happy, does your underbed monster ease three of his tentacles out of your sore and raw pussy, wrapping himself around your still trembling form and purring satisfyingly somewhere in your neck, clinging to you for some warmth.

Underbed monster! Simon likes you very much after all, so he does everything in his power to keep his favourite hooman happy<3

Requests are open<3 Feedback is very appreciated, give writers some love🩷

[ak4e7a]

kiss it off me — enha ot6 legal line foodplay !

cw: f!reader; 4nal, ass eating, temperature play, ice d1ldo, tit worship, possessive kink, cum eating, blah blah blah

a/n: for my freakhoonz OBVIOUSLY but most importantly for @heeslomll !!! congratulations on graduating nessa! i love you and i'll always be proud of you my sweet girl. twinz forever <3

this is in no way supposed to be an accurate portrayal of enhypen. minors dni, 18+ only.

heeseung

your boyfriend affectionately refers to your ass as his personal cake

and one day you're lounging in bed with him the AC isn't working; it's a hot ass day so both of you, of course, are naked and eating ice cream, giggling like kids up to no good

things start to get out of hand when heeseung shakes the can of whipped cream too hard and it gets everywhere, splattering your face in the process.

"hee!" you squeal, wrinkling your nose at him in half-serious disgust. "it's sticky!"

"sorry, baby. i'll clean you up, hold on." he takes his finger and swipes up the whipped cream that decorates your features, and you think he's going to either lick it off himself or feed it to you, but he does neither

with a mischievous glint in his eye he rubs it over your lips

"i'm still sticky," you whine

"sorry, here, i'll fix it," he says, giving you a kiss and licking the cream off your lips. he keeps his tongue poking out and licks all the way across your face. "mm, babe. you taste so good. just wanna eat you up."

flustered, you stutter out, "you can, if you want..."

"any part of you?"

"uh-huh," you answer, too fixated on his pretty features

"turn over, then, baby." heeseung makes you literally spread your ass open and for a moment you think he's going to eat your cunt from the back

but then you hear the sound of the whipped cream canister spraying, and then you feel the cold topping drip onto your puckered rim

and then you feel the familiar glide of heeseung’s rough tongue, although this time he’s not eating your pussy

but he does have two fingers fucking your hole open while he eats your ass

“want you to cum like this, baby. can you do that for me? please?”

you can’t do anything but obey; after all, your boyfriend treats you so well, all the time

the rest under the cut!

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿˚

jay

you’ve been wanting to ask your boyfriend if you can try ass play but you’re nervous

but also you just really really love him and you want to give him the honor of claiming your last untouched hole

so you when you bring it up, you also ask jay if you can do a shot of his expensive whiskey to help calm your nerves

and he’s like, “of course, darling, anything to help you feel good—but we don't have to do it if you’re not 100% sure about it.”

and you say, “no, i’m sure i want this, you know i just have a hard time relaxing…”

being the loving boyfriend who also loves to spoil you that he is, he gives in to your whims

but, also, jay being jay, obviously he isn’t going to just give you a glass with a shot of Suntory

he puts the shot in his mouth and then kisses you, spitting it into your mouth

and then repeats this a few more times until you feel the warm, dazed feeling of the alcohol buzz permeate through your insides

“‘m ready, daddy,” you murmur to him

“okay angel face, get on all fours for me, hm? face down, ass up, you know what to do.”

“yes, daddy,” you answer obediently

jay loves you like this: extra submissive and docile, not bratting out on him like you like to do

yeah he spits a little whiskey on the buttplug and then on your waiting hole to lube it up

“deep breaths for me, okay, princess? we can stop at any time.”

“no, daddy, want you to train me. wanna take your cock in my ass soon.”

“you’re such a good girl, aren’t you? hm? how does it feel, baby? tell daddy.”

“feels… ah! i feel so full.”

“you’re doing so well for me, baby. want my fingers, too? wanna be stuffed?”

that’s a rhetorical question. of course you do

jake

to get back at jake for him blindfolding you and making you ride his abs, you blindfold him this time

of course he’s all up for it

but what he doesn't know is that when you were out today

you picked up a box of your favorite donuts

which is your favorite treat

right after your boyfriend's big cock of course

you leave your blindfolded jakey in the bedroom, cock straining against his abs while you go to the kitchen to microwave the donuts until they're warm

and all the while he’s whining impatiently, “baaaaabe, come back” over and over again

when he hears your footsteps enter the room you see his cock twitch in anticipation

and it twitches again when he hears your mischievous giggle

“alright, jakey, no touching, okay? put your hands behind your head.”

he whimpers but does what you ask of him

and then you take his cock in your mouth, deepthroating him easily thanks to the countless times you've given him head over the years

he’s still whimpering, now with the addition of bucking his hips up trying to fuck your face even if you’re pushing him back down gently

you come off his cock with a pop! and reach for the box of donuts, pulling out a glazed ring and giggling to yourself again before sliding it onto his cock

“uh, babe? what’s that?”

“nothing, jakey, don’t worry about it,” you answer. “just a little treat for both of us. how does it feel?”

“warm… and sticky… kinda like you…”

“good.”

when he cries out that he’s about to cum

you stop sucking and use your sticky hand to jerk him off while you tongue at his balls

and jake cums all over your hand and it drips down onto the donut

you’re just as much of a freak as he is and you decide to eat it

with all the squirming he’s been doing, the blindfold falls off as you’re eating the donut

and he watches with his jaw practically on the floor as you do

you show him your empty mouth after you’re done: "look baby, all clean!"

his cock perks up again at the sight of you so happy, tummy full of sugar and his cum

sunghoon

he was fucking around trying to make popsicles and instead of being normal

he froze strawberries in WATER thinking that was a good idea

and you’re so annoyed with him bc wdym he froze your expensive japanese strawberries in water

he’s like “baby, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” but you're just giving him the cold shoulder…

until he says he’ll make it up to you, which has you intrigued

because sunghoon has some very interesting ways of apologizing

of course he knows how to say sorry

verbally

but also with his cock, among other things he uses to make you feel good

this time it’s the fucking strawberry-water popsicle, with the promise that he won’t let your precious strawberries go to waste

he gets you spread open on the bed, teasing your cunt with the popsicle

you shiver at the contact, feeling it already start to thaw against your heated skin

you watch him with lust-filled eyes as he brings the popsicle to his mouth and suck on it, his pretty pink lips forming a perfect pout

and then

“fuck, hoonie!” you cry out as he nudges the tip of the popsicle into your waiting hole

he gives you a moment to adjust before he starts to fuck it into you, the coldness of the popsicle contrasting with the absolute heat rushing through your gummy, slick walls

“i’m really sorry, baby,” he says again

you literally couldn’t give less of a fuck about the strawberries at this point but you might as well use your earlier annoyance with him to your advantage

“want your cock, too, hoonie…”

he’s in no position to make you beg for it as he usually does

so he gives it to you, fucking you slow and deep for a few strokes before switching back to the popsicle

alternating between his warm skin and the melting ice has you close to the edge

but what makes you cum is when

he pulls the popsicle out of you and replaces it with his cock, thrusting into you down to the hilt while he takes a bite out of one of the strawberries

“mm,” he coos. “tastes way better like this, baby. wanna try?”

jungwon

having an innocent boyfriend has its perks

one of them being that he’s willing to try literally everything

so when you walk into the bedroom with a couple towels and a bottle of chocolate syrup

his eyeballs practically jump out of his head he’s so fucking excited

like what do you mean he gets to have his pretty girlfriend naked on the bed while he plays with her

he’s going to have wet dreams about this for weeks

but that’s for a different post, not this one

anyways

he straddles your waist and experimentally drips some syrup onto your tits

he’s learned to be a tease after being with you for some time now

so he completely skips your nipples, much to your dismay

they're hard and in his face so it's hard for him to not pay attention to them when he licks off the chocolate from your tits

you whine impatiently and he laughs under his breath before he indulges you

because he’s weak for you

and he spends what feels like hours just licking and sucking and biting at your nipples

moaning at the taste of the chocolate

moaning because your tits are in his mouth

moaning as his cock gets some friction against your smooth skin

you fucking cum just from him playing with your tits so passionately and intensely

like he is paying attention to them like he’s never seen them before in his life

and then just when you think he can’t surprise you any more

he cums, too

all over your stomach and underneath your tits

he rubs his cum on your nipples and licks it off with more chocolate syrup

neither of you can speak and the room is hot hot hot

and sticky

and honestly you should have known that your boyfriend had a little bit of a possessive streak when it comes to you

you’re hot as fuck and he wonders every day how he bagged you

regardless it makes your eyes roll back into your head when you manage to read what he’s written with his finger in a mix of chocolate syrup and his cum

right over your neglected cunt

property of yang jungwon.

sunoo

you're not as much of a sweets person as he is

but you love your boyfriend nonetheless

and you always want to indulge him no matter what

even if it includes him laying on you and getting the sugar dust of his gummy peach rings all over your skin

because, come on, you enjoy when he licks it off you

he always gets carried away

and blames it on the sugar high

but really he’s just horny

this time is no different

he has the neckline of your tank top pulled down to expose your tits to the cold room air

your nipples harden in excitement

and also to the sudden change in temperature

but mostly you’re excited because you love when he gets like this

it’s not very often when he’s catering to you and not the other way around

after all, your sunny baby is the brat in the relationship

moving on

you watch him intently as he sucks off the sugar from a peach ring

and then

places it over your nipple before admiring his work

it confuses you for a second and you almost get annoyed at him for making a sticky mess of you and not doing anything

both on your tits and in your panties

you look at him like ???

and he just fucking winks at you before ducking his head down to your tit

laving his tongue over your nipple, swirling it around the piece of candy and moaning

the vibration makes your back arch, pushing your tits even more into his face

he grabs your tit with his hand and squeezes it

and you don't notice until later but he uses his other hand to get his cock out

and push it inside you

cockwarming while he sucks on your sugar-coated nipples

moaning when you clench around him

which, in turn, makes you moan even louder

“you’re so sweet, lovely. just like candy.”

taglist: @karinasbaby @enha-stars @intromortal @heeslomll @venomhee @heeheeswifey

[comatosebunny09]

light as a feather | sylus

summary: your lashes dance. you screw your eyes shut, offering him your wrists. “gonna tie me up?” he hums, entertaining the idea in his mind. “tempting. but not tonight, sweetheart.” you flinch when something cold, crisp, and silken grazes your cheek. sylus chuckles, the sound akin to distant thunder rolling over the horizon. “i won’t hurt you. i promise.” genre(s): romance, erotica warning(s): female reader, gendered terms, silliness, blindfolds, sensation play, praise, pet names, profanity, sylus may or may not be in his demon form throughout now playing: layin’ low - hyolyn

“Do you trust me?” he asks one night on a whim.

You set your book aside, straightening on the settee in the center of his study. “You know I do.”

Why is that even a question?

He smirks, a softness to his eyes as he takes your hand, acquainting his lips with each of your knuckles. He wordlessly draws you from the loveseat. Bewildered, you follow, lead through the stilled, winding corridors of his manor towards a room you’re all too familiar with.

“Nap time?” you jest with a humored look, bouncing on his bed.

“Hmm. Not quite.” There’s a tease in the low rumble of his voice. A promise of something more. You feel like a teenager, a hot rush of adrenaline spuming through your extremities.

He turns his back to you, rifling through his dresser. You maneuver this way and that, trying to get a look over his burly shoulder at what he’s up to.

In an a-ha moment, he finds what he seeks. Returns to you, aura bleeding bad intentions whilst he briskly shoves something into his pocket. Your breath hitches when he zeros in, and he pitches himself forward, caging you between his arms to murmur against the outskirts of your ear.

“Close your eyes.” You’re dizzy from the sound of it. From the heat he exudes, the heady scent he carries. Your mind colors with possibilities. Blinking drunkenly, you obey.

Your lashes dance. You screw your eyes shut, baring both wrists to him. Does he plan to subdue you? “Gonna tie me up?”

He hums, entertaining the idea in his mind. “Mmm. Tempting, but not tonight, sweetheart.”

You flinch when something cold, crisp, and silken grazes your cheek. Sylus chuckles, the noise akin to distant thunder rolling over the horizon. “Won’t hurt you. I promise.”

You nod, and he slips something over your eyes. Ties it over your ears, behind your head. The knot is secure yet loose enough to tear off if need be.

“Lie back,” he instructs, smoothing the flat sides of his fingers along the jutting bones of your wrist. You could get used to being ordered around like this.

Your lips twitching with a smile, you acquiesce, falling onto the cloud-like, lush comforter adorning his bed. You prickle with anticipation, your breath held at the crest of your ribs.

Give a little start when cold, idle finger pads slip beneath the hem of your blouse, touching the molten skin of your belly. You’re caught between a gasp and a laugh. Clench the comforter to ground you, your body reacting to the exploratory glide of his palm.

He chuckles again, dark like red velvet and smooth like whiskey. Voice abrasive as he bunches your blouse up beneath the swell of your tits. “Relax,” he soothes, and you shudder whilst his digits venture southward torturously slow.

He curls a thick hand around your thigh. Squeezes until flesh craters between his fingers, and he hums with a quieted satisfaction.

He’s by your ear again, dragging distended lips along the shell, nosing along the space behind. Fingers tip-toe up the inner trajectory of your thigh, smoothing along the plump, honeysuckle skin just shy of where your panties lie.

“What’s your safe word?” he husks.

Your breath catches, hips rucking up off the bed to chase the feeling of his palm on you. “Mary Poppins.”

Sylus snorts, nipping your earlobe in retaliation. “Too many syllables. You sure you’ll be able to get that out in time?”

A bout of vertigo crashes into you. You pulse. Laugh breathlessly, excited. Burn hot. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”

He taps your thigh once, twice. Mulls over your answer, and suddenly, his warmth no longer cradles you. You whine like a brat when he leaves your side. Pant, every nerve in your body exploding like solar flares beneath your skin.

He doesn’t leave you cold and wanton for long.

Something fluffy touches your skin, replacing the gentle stir of his fingers. You giggle, the sensation akin to tickle bugs crawling over your stomach.

Did he conjure one of his feathers just to tease you?

He chuckles alongside you, dragging it up the ripple of your ribcage. “How does it feel?” he queries, mouthing along the angle of your jaw. Nips your neck, breathes hot against your carotid.

“G-good. Real good.”

“Mmmm. Good girl. Stay still. Yes, just like that.”

He makes several expeditions over your body, paying special attention to the space shy of the line of your bra. When you’re thoroughly teased and gasping for air—sighing his name so pretty, arching your back for more—he drags the feather further south.

Encourages your legs to widen by smoothing it over your inner thighs, and you shudder when it grazes the seat of your panties.

He releases an appraising sound. Throat clicks, and he exhales slowly. Shakily. He does it again, dragging the feather along your slit, and your hips leave the mattress in pursuit of that sparkling feeling again.

“Like that?” he purrs low in his throat, thoroughly entranced.

You nod, hot in the face, reaching blindly across the bed for something of his to hold onto. He smiles into your ear, setting a steady pace with the feather against your slick pussy. And it’s embarrassing how quickly you fall apart. How your panties darken with gossamer beads of slick, and he hasn’t even done his worst.

Toss your head side to side, desperately clinging to him. Whispering his name like a broken mantra, undulating your hips like the lazy drag of a tide against a fucking feather.

“Sylus,” you breathe, not sure what you’re begging for. “Sylus, please.”

“Want me to stop?” he croons, not once relinquishing his pace. Agonizingly slow, the tip of the quill agitating your swollen clit.

You shake your head, your lip swollen and tucked between your teeth. He takes your cue, tugging your blouse the rest of the way towards your neck. Your bra follows, and you exhale slow when sweltering lips close around a pebbled nipple.

He throbs through the thick layers of his clothes, twitching against your hip, begging to be set free. His focus is on you, however, and he laves at your nipple, sending pleasant tingles throughout your body, crashing into your center.

“Fuck, Sy. I’m gonna-I’m gonna—”

“Cum?” he breathes against your tit, the sticky, wet sound of his lips suckling on your nipple making your pussy clench. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Please. Need you to.”

You pant, pushed near that slurry edge. Home in on that feeling brewing between your legs. On the sensation of the feather bumping your clit, the pitch of his voice, his ragged breaths intermingling with yours.

He’s in your ear again. Hot, muttering a litany of praise. “Pretty girl. So, so good for me. Let it go. Give it to me, sweetheart.”

And you do just that.

Your back arches, eyes screwed shut behind the blindfold. A cry lodged in your throat, and the world slides into white. Tremors of satisfaction tear through you. Ripple from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. Your fingers tingle. Ears ring.

You laugh all breathless as you come down, shuddering. Overstimulated whilst Sylus continues to ease the feather up and down the milky mess of your cunt.

“Delicious,” he hums, angling your face towards him with tender fingers beneath your chin. Draws you into a languid kiss, milking vulgar sounds from betwixt your lips.

masterlist | banner by @cafekitsune.

[artyandink]

necessary precautions

Summary: You and Dean hadn’t really gotten to this stage before. You were partners in hunting, not in that way. But when you’re trying to plant a bug and camera in a room at a gala, you realise that you have a lot more underlying chemistry than you thought possible. Even though it’s an act. Even if you both think you’re not good enough for each other.

A/N - Yet another drabble (promise I’ll get to the fics guys, I just have too much creative juice where this is concerned)

You were having a hard time keeping your head. Especially when Dean’s fingers were pressing into your waist like that.

You two stumbled through the door, you first and Dean after as his hands regretfully left you to let his blazer drop to the floor with a soft thud, the sound of your lips connecting over and over again the only sound outside of your hot breaths mingling in the small gap between your lips. And that problem was quickly resolved by them melding together again, soft and pliable to each other’s whims.

Fast, hard, but oh, so sensual with the way his hands traced your form like he was sculpting some damn fine art.

“God, baby,” Dean murmured, his tie next to go as you both struggled to keep a grip on reality. Dean found himself hooked, hooked on the feel of your plush lips on his after all this time. All this time of waking up in a sweat to the dream of your lips all over him, on his neck, chest, abs- from your position straddling him, grinding long and slow. Open-mouthed and yours.

Line and sinker when he finally registered the intoxicating flavour of morning coffee, beer, and whiskey (a woman after his own heart), and then he was hit with the dizzying aroma of your floral perfume, mixed with the smell of the bakery you got his pie from and topped off with the hit of sweet, sweet pheromones- lord help him.

You couldn’t get enough of his calloused hands on your body, feeling up every inch, over your waist, pushing and pulling your hips in a way that had you almost letting out a real moan, tangling in your hair and pulling so he could deepen the kiss, which made the moan fall past anyway and had his eyebrows raised slightly at how convincing that was.

He had you two stumbling further into the spacious room, eyes open and quickly scanning until he tugged on your hair twice, a signal that the room was clear that allowed you to pull back and try and scan the room for a good place to put the bug and camera that you had on your person. He mouthed at your neck, the hint of teeth and tongue nearly having your knees shaking and giving way under you had it not been for your (quickly wavering) focus.

Ok, so… there’s a bed, but not too central. His lips finding that spot on your neck with such precision it had you whimpering. A couple chairs strewn here and there. His hands disappearing under your blouse to map out every little freckle on your back, pulling the band of your bra and snapping it against your heated skin. A big-ass table in the centre of the room. His lips finding your pulse and teasingly sucking.

Wait- a big-ass table. In the centre… of the… room…

You found the cold surface of the table prick at the back of your thighs, finding that Dean had already got you there and had lifted you up, rucking up that pencil skirt.

God, that tight little skirt drove him up the wall. And he was climbing higher up it.

“Look so pretty like this, sweetheart.” He murmured at his position of attacking - for lack of a better word - your neck, his hand massaging at your left knee, moving steadily up, rolling the softness between his skilled fingers, inching to where you were aching for him. To where you were waiting for him.

Until his hand stopped, withdrew from its position tantalisingly close to your panties and quickly planted the bug and camera. That he got from the thigh holster strapped to you, from underneath your skirt, which he then pulled down to protect your modesty.

Even if that lace was rendering him insane.

Your breaths were both laboured, no words exchanged as your eyes stared into his own mossy ones and his back at yours, his swollen, slightly reddened lips parted and craving yours. His hand gripping your hair again, nose bumping yours and ready to taste you on his tongue-

The door burst open, snapping you out of your session, with a singular shifter walking in, one who knew you both as the FBI agents from earlier. How did you know? The building you were in belonged to a shifter mafia, who were holding a charity gala of all things this very night. You and Dean had just finished questioning and needed to put a bug and camera in their main room so Sam - who was now waiting in Baby - could keep an eye on what was being said and done.

You forgot that detail when Dean’s hand had slid over your ass to grip your thigh, strong, firm and possessive. And it was buried in the back of your head when you tasted apple pie, whiskey and burger grease on his tongue; smelt old leather, cologne and his body wash.

So now you had to improvise, putting a hand on your chest, gasping and giggling in embarrassment while Dean turned his body, sliding a firm arm around your waist, like he was stating that you were his. God, you wished you were. “Oh! Sorry, we thought this room wasn’t, y’know, occupado. Just needed to have some privacy, right, babe?” You turned to Dean expectantly, who chuckled and turned to the shifter with a lick of his lips and a grin.

“Just snuck away for a moment.” He smirked, inclining his head to you as his hand inched slowly downward. “Couldn’t keep my hands off this one. Especially when she’s wearin’ that pretty, little skirt.” He punctuated his sentence with a sharp slap to your ass, which surprised you, but you covered it up to a swat of his dress-shirt covered chest (that was way too taut on him to be legal) with a laugh.

“Stop that, you’ll get me going again.” You found acting Dean’s hormonal girlfriend was easier than expected, considering the odds of the alarm being sounded that you weren’t really there to get down and dirty. You faced the shifter with a real forced love-sick grin, biting your lip briefly.

And Dean’s eyes totally weren’t on your plump, pink bottom lip and wishing it was his teeth worrying it like that.

“Can’t keep my hands off this one. Hard to when you have a man that’s so handsome, firm and… forbidden.” As a spot of payback, you slapped Dean’s ass in return, which had him jolting slightly, eyes darting everywhere before looking to his feet and smiling to himself with a pump of his eyebrows. Was it bad to think that was hot?

What?! He liked his women possessive. Or more so he liked you possessive, but he’d never say that. He’d die again before he did.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to play it off. “Anyway, we’d appreciate if you kept this on the DL, away from our associate, Agent Pierce. Tall, with the hair.” He gestured up to his head, referencing Sammy’s gorgeous hair. “He’s a real prude.”

You faux-scoffed in agreement, internally apologising to Sam. Dean wasn’t. “Oh, yeah, that guy. He’s a real suck up to the big boys back in DC.”

“A grass to the brass.”

“Puts the tittle with the tattle.”

“Can’t keep his mouth good and shut.”

“Snitches get stitches, am I right? You know the type.” You waved the shifter off with a small, rich laugh. “And I’d like to keep my job, see this hunk lookin’ all delicious in a suit.” You gently tapped Dean’s chest, then you realised that you had to get out of there before things got overly hormonal and suspicious.

“You’re the one who’s lookin’ goddamn edible, doll.” Dean drawled, nuzzling your neck with his nose, his acting skills surprisingly good. You kept on having to remind yourself that this wasn’t real. Disappointingly.

“Anyway, well, we have to head out before Agent Pierce gets suspicious.” You hopped off the table, picking up Dean’s blazer and tie, having him hold it while you did his tie up like a good fake girlfriend. “There we go, hon.”

“Always making sure I look good, baby.” He kissed your cheek quickly, and as you strutted out in those goddamn heels with a wink back to Dean, your hair messy, cheeks flushed, hips swaying and lipstick smeared, he let his eyes roam over your ass framed in that skirt with a lick of his lips, seeing the shifter guy doing the same- wait, what?!

Now, that was downright unacceptable. Only Dean got to check out your ass. Wait, that came out wrong. You weren’t even his.

Though he wished you’d be. Then he’d get to kiss those lips like that and actually breach second base.

“Quite a girl you got there, Agent.” The shifter guy smirked, looking at Dean with an impressed nod. “Fiery.”

Dean chuckled, nodding and stepping closer. “Yeah.” He bent so his mouth was right by the monster’s ear, even though he was itching to get out his silver knife and finish the job, talking in a rough tone that made the shifter forget he was a monster. “Look at her like that again and I’ll break your face.”

I appreciate feedback so much, guys!

Taglist: @hobby27 @k-slla

[macbethsymphony]

Negotiations

Dracule Mihawk x Reader

wc: 5.2 k

tw: NSFW, 18+, this is just pure filth guys, it's 5k of smut, there's no plot. Edging, overstimulation, slightly dubcon, fingering, Mihawk has the hyperfocus of a god? this is highly toxic and slightly unethical ngl

Summary: The tale of how a negotiator convinced the marine hunter to consider becoming a warlord.

AO3

Eat, drink, nap, kill marines, drink some more, sleep, and repeat. That was the unvarying routine of Dracule Mihawk, marine hunter. At least, that’s what he’d been up to, these past two months.

Marine hunter. What a fucking joke. Marine killer was more accurate. The man was deranged, his actions driven by an insidious boredom that turned slaughter into a twisted game. It was painfully obvious that he was merely toying with the Marines, savoring the macabre sport, desperately looking for someone who would match his skills. If you had your way, you’d be plotting his demise instead. Though you supposed if you were here, it meant they’d all failed.

Tsuru’s words echoed in your mind, firm and unyielding: “I trust you are able to bring him to the table,” she had said. “You are our best negotiator, after all.”

So, you grit your teeth and set the scene. For in no world was disappointment an option; failing your superiors, especially Tsuru, was unthinkable.

Your officers were meticulously positioned, the bar’s usual faces replaced by those of disguised operatives. Only a few of the establishment's staff remained. A strategic decision to ensure the venue’s operations ran smoothly without drawing suspicion. The air was thick with tension, and you were acutely aware that the slightest misstep could unravel the entire thing. The possibility of disaster loomed large; a single error could transform this carefully orchestrated meeting into a chaotic bloodbath, with no chance of containing Mihawk’s whims.

Your heart pounded with an almost unbearable intensity, a drumbeat of anxiety and anticipation. You reminded yourself that your team were experts, each one adept at their role, and that every detail had been rehearsed to perfection. You could do this. You would succeed where all others had failed.

The door to the bar creaked open, drawing your attention as you smoothly transitioned into your assigned role. “Whiskey, neat, please,” you requested from the bartender, your eyes never leaving the imposing figure in the corner. “Actually, I’ll take the whole bottle.”

You watched with a tight-lipped smile as Mihawk, with deliberate nonchalance, made his way behind the bar. He selected two bottles of fine wine, his movements leisurely, and then settled into his usual spot, a booth in the corner, away from everyone. A fleeting, almost imperceptible smirk played on his lips as he uncorked one of the bottles and poured himself a glass. Your breath caught, a shiver of doubt sliding through you, but you forced yourself to look again. 

Good. 

It was nothing more than a trick of the light.

You downed your glass, slamming it with a bit too much force on the bar counter. 

Everything was falling into place. You had him where you wanted him; all you needed to do was stick to the script. You adjusted your dress, the provocative cut emphasizing every curve. Confidence surged through you. You knew how to handle men like him. This would be no different. 

You approached him, whiskey bottle in hand, your movements practiced and deliberate. “Hello, handsome,” you purred, your voice a silky caress. He would be putty in your hands before long.

But as his gaze locked with yours, the air between you seemed to thicken. The intensity of his stare left you breathless, feeling strangely vulnerable. The mastery you usually wielded over people faltered. You couldn’t decipher him, couldn’t read him. At all.

This was not how it was supposed to go.

Fuck.

Fuck.

You were always in control, always able to manipulate the situation with ease. You were the master and they the puppets. The fact that Mihawk’s inscrutable expression was completely impenetrable threw you off balance.

You were already committed, though. Backing out now was not an option.

“Mind if I sit?” you asked, voice dropping to a husky whisper. You allowed your fingers to trail delicately along his shoulder and then drift over the exposed skin of his chest. Your gaze flickered to the other banquette, the seat occupied by the bulk of his massive sword, back to him. The invitation in your eyes was unmistakable.

For a moment, you thought you glimpsed a spark of amusement in his gaze, but it was so fleeting that you couldn’t be sure. Mihawk tilted his head slightly, the feather on his hat accentuating the movement with a languid grace.

“Be my guest,” he said, his tone flat and devoid of emotion.

He made no move to shift from his position, no move to shift the position of his sword. You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to maintain composure. The arrangement was deliberate—there was no easy way for you to sit without essentially stepping over him and trapping yourself between him and the wall.

He was toying with you, you realized with a flicker of frustration. But if he wanted a game, you were more than capable of playing along. You were a master of your craft after all. With a deliberate motion, you took the third, more unexpected option. You straddled him, the hem of your already short dress rising even higher as your legs settled to his side. 

You held his gaze steadily as you sipped from the whiskey bottle, slamming it behind you with a practiced flourish once you were done.

His gaze didn’t shift as he drank in your form, lingering on your curves, then back to your features. You did the same, taking him in, the sharpness of his jaw, the solidity of his muscles. You’d already known he was handsome, hours of looking at pictures had told you that, but by the gods above he was almost ethereal. You prayed for a moment that the heat you felt was from the alcohol you just downed. But you knew it wasn’t.

“Bold.” The word snapped you out of your thoughts. “For a marine that is.”

Your spine went cold at the statement. 

He knew. 

Of course, he knew. 

But you were still alive, which meant he was still willing to entertain this scene. 

It’d been a power play you realized a touch too late. He’d just flipped the script you had so carefully prepared. 

Interesting. 

Absolutely thrilling.

You hadn’t expected that he’d be a worthy opponent and you’d let him earn the first point in your carelessness. It didn’t matter, however, you could easily recover from such a small blunder.

You leaned in closer, your breath mingling with his as you whispered, “Boldness is often rewarded, don’t you think, marine hunter?” Your fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest, feeling the marble-like skin, the uneven rhythm hoping to distract in its randomness.

Mihawk’s gaze darkened, his eyes flicking down to your lips before returning to your eyes. “Rewards come in many forms,” his voice was a seductive drawl. “Some more satisfying than others.”

You stopped the patterns, nails digging tenderly into hard muscles as you traveled down.

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, the sound low and inviting. “Well, I do aim to satisfy.” You pursed your lips, emphasizing the word. Your fingers continued their path, slipping to rest on his belt buckle, playing with the metal. “But satisfaction is a two-way street. What would it take to make you happy, Mihawk?”

His hand moved, a distracting caress tracing up your thigh, stopping right under the hem of your dress. The touch was electrifying, sending a shiver down your spine. “Happiness is a fleeting emotion,” he said, his eyes boring into yours. His fingers roamed back down, nails digging softly in the plush skin, mirroring your previous actions. “I prefer something more... enduring.”

Fuck.

He was good.

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. “And what might that be?”

He smirked, a predatory gleam taking over the amber hues of his eyes. “Isn’t that your job to figure out, little marine?”

You bit your lip trying to come back. He wasn’t just good, he was almost your match. You could feel the unbridled heat of desire starting to swirl through your veins at the challenge. “I’m very good at my job,” you whispered, your voice dripping with insinuations as you leaned closer, your lips a hair’s breadth away. “I’m sure I can find a way to please you.”

Mihawk’s fingers traveled back up your thigh, right past the hem of your dress, dug in before the curve of your rear, the pressure a mix of pleasure and pain. “I wasn’t aware, the marines sent whores to negotiate their deals.” He looked down at you, a sneer nearly breaking his lips. 

You felt a sliver of satisfaction. He’d almost cracked. Soooo, he had standards. He didn’t like things too easy, did he? You could play with that. 

You laughed, your hands roaming up, palms flat against his chest. You traced the sharpness of his jaw. “Oh no.” You brought the tips of your fingers to his lips. “I’m not here to whore myself out. But if it brings you to the table, I’m sure I can find the sweetest cunt on the grand line for you.”

His eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing through them as he considered your words. You were suddenly reminded of how he held every card, how you were at the mercy of his every caprice. You only happened to hold his attention for now, only happened to entertain him enough for him to let you and your squadron live. He was THE marine hunter. It didn’t matter if every officer in the establishment were to pull their weapons out and point at him. He’d be fine and you’d all be dead. The tension between you crackled like a storm about to break, every touch and every word a loaded gun.

“What a tempting offer,” he finally said, his voice a low purr that sent your heart racing in more ways than one. “But I find that I prefer a more... personal touch.”

To punctuate his point his hand reached further, against the curve of your ass, before coming back and digging in your hip, pressing you down to him. You almost moaned, every fiber of your being fighting the primal urges that strained to be free. You let out a silent gasp instead. This was going too far, getting out of your grasp. A mistake. An admission of your desires. You were slipping more by the moment. You moved your hand up, giving the signal for everyone to vacate. You’d have to do this alone, you wouldn’t risk so many lives on your inability to handle one man.

Mihawk noticed the subtle movement of your hand, his eyebrow arching with curiosity and a hint of amusement. “Calling off your dogs, are you? Either you’re very confident or very foolish,” he commented, his tone teasing yet edged with something sharper.

You felt a touch of annoyance prick at the edge of your mind. He was rubbing it in. Toying with you, trying to tease out reactions. Even though you felt anything but confident, you flashed a daring smile, the tension between you sparking with the undercurrent of unsaid words. 

You resumed your mindless patterns on his chest, slowly getting lower and lower. "Let's just say I would rather handle the finer details of these negotiations with more privacy. Make room for more... satisfying outcomes."

His fingers continued their dance along your side, dipping dangerously close to forbidden territory. Mihawk's smirk deepened as he seemed to see right through you, fixed right on your uncertainty. You felt yourself flailing, felt yourself losing your composure. 

“Privacy can certainly be... conducive to more fruitful negotiations,” he murmured, a dark caress relishing on the hold he held on you. He leaned in, reaching for his glass of wine. He took a slow sip, watching the gears turn in your head before putting it back behind you. “So what is it you want?” He asked, his hand grabbing to your chin, moving your head side to side with an appraising look, making you look at him.

You took a steadying breath, leaning into his touch, playing along with his game. “Oh not much,” You cooed, hand reaching his at your face, splaying it along your cheek, brushing your lips on his palm. ”I’ve only been instructed to get you to the negotiation table, nothing more, nothing less.” You dragged his hand down, spreading it along your throat bringing it over your heart. “I’m sure I could at the very least get you to consider it?”

It all happened too fast. You heard the sound of glass shattering on the floor before you registered the change in perspective. The hold he had over your throat was harsh as he pinned you down to the table, the remnants of the wine pooling in the tile like spilled blood.

“You think you can just waltz in and sway me with a few promises, like a common man?” There was something nearing disappointment in his tone and you realized you’d messed up. You’d been too hasty, too forward, he had been hoping to play longer. “How about this little marine, show me how badly you need me to do what you need and if you’re entertaining enough, I might consider it.”

The shift in Mihawk’s demeanor was almost terrifying in its intensity, and you struggled to keep your composure as his grip tightened on your throat. Your mind raced, trying to find a way to turn the situation back in your favor. The room was deathly silent in its emptiness, the tension palpable and if it wasn’t for the stiffness of his crotch against yours you’d think you’d lost all of your cards.

It might just get you killed but you arched your back beneath him, pressing into him. Your thighs trembled at his side as you struggled for breath but still, your hands grasped at his over your throat, pushing him further against you, cutting your airflow almost completely. If he wanted a show, then you’d give him one he’d remember until his last moments on earth.

Mihawk’s grip on your throat tightened for a second and you thought for an instant that this was it, that the underworld awaited you. But before darkness could cloud your eyes he loosened it, his gaze glinting with a mixture of curiosity and dark amusement. You could feel the rapid beat of your heart echoing in your ears as you gasped for breath, your whole body shaking beneath his. The room seemed to pulse with the intensity of the moment, every sense heightened.

“You’re quite the performer,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that only served to enhance the heat building between your legs. “But I’m not easily swayed by theatrics. Show me something real.”

You swallowed hard, your throat still aching from his grip, but you forced a smile. “Real, you say?” You let your hands glide away from his wrist, trailed your curves, and slipped the straps of your dress off from your shoulders, revealing more skin and black lace. “I can do real.”

Mihawk’s eyes darkened with interest, his gaze tracing the path of your hands as they moved. He released his grip on your throat, his fingers now trailing down to your collarbone, leaving a searing embers in their wake. The intensity in his stare was almost overwhelming, and you knew you had to find a way to keep control of the situation, even if it felt like you were barely holding on.

You grasped his hand, guiding it along your bare skin, to the plushness of your breast. “What is it you truly desire, Mihawk? Power? Control? Or perhaps something more... visceral?” You practically moaned out the words. 

His hand lingered on the lace, pushing it aside, fingers tracing lazy circles. The air between you was electric, charged with unspoken promises and the underlying tension of a predator toying with its prey.  This was a delicate game. You let out a soft moan, arching your back further, pressing yourself against him, rolling your hips.

A smirk broke on his lips as he saw right through your little performance. He knew exactly what game you were playing, and it was clear he was enjoying every moment of it. His hand moved with deliberate slowness, tracing the curve of your breast, his touch a maddening mix of gentle and firm. The control you sought seemed to slip further from your grasp with each passing second.

“And what do you propose, little marine?”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. “I propose we make this interesting. A game, if you will. You test my… resolve, and I test yours. We both get what we want.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “A game, you say? And what are the stakes?”

You bit your lip, your hand guiding his lower, your fingers ushering his along the dripping lace of your underwear. “If I can prove my worth to you, you agree to come to the negotiation table. If I fail...” You paused, letting the weight of the words hang between you. “If I fail, you can do with me as you please.”

He pushed aside the ruined fabric, the pads of his fingers meeting your slick before dipping inside. “You’re playing a dangerous game, little marine.” His smirk widened as a moan escaped you. “What makes you think I can’t just take what I want?”

The words hung in the air, thick with implication. You felt the intensity of his gaze boring into you, the heat from his touch searing into your skin. As though to emphasize his point, his thumb found your clit, tracing slow, deliberate circles, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through your body, mewls you tried to muffle out of your lips.

You swallowed hard, your breath coming in ragged gasps. “You could,” you admitted, your hand wrapping around his wrist as he moved his fingers in a come-hither motion, pressing all those delightfully right spots. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, fingers trembling, nails digging into him as a wave of ecstasy washed over you. You struggled to come back, half-lidded eyes meeting his. “But I’m sure I can make it much, much more entertaining for you if you decide to play along.”

His eyes flickered with a mixture of amusement and dark curiosity. “You certainly know how to make an offer enticing.” He leaned in close, his breath touching your lips. “But from where I’m standing you’re already breaking.”

He was right, you were so close to falling apart under him. "Am I not to your pleasing?" You asked, voice trembling against his. You reached up and discarded his hat, your fingers seeking to tangle in his hair. “Am I not entertaining enough for you, marine hunter?”

He chuckled, his lips brushing over yours. His fingers continued their tantalizing exploration, pushing you closer to the edge with each deliberate movement. He was testing you, pushing your limits to see how far you could go. And yet, despite the overwhelming intensity, you were determined to hold your ground.

“You are quite pleasing,” he admitted, his voice was thick with lust and its intensity almost sent you over. “But I wonder, how much more can you take before you beg for mercy?”

You bit your lip, a mixture of defiance and desire burning in your eyes. “I don’t beg, Mihawk. That’s what makes it interesting.”

His smirk widened, his fingers pressing deeper, eliciting another soft moan from you. “Bold words, little marine. Very bold indeed. Let’s see if that’s true.”

His lips met yours, slow and teasing, a dance of dominance and submission, a battle for control, a negotiation of its own. He moved against you with a practiced precision, each movement calculated to draw out your reactions. You could feel the intensity of his desire, the raw power behind each touch.

You were close. So fucking close. 

You swore under your breath as he suddenly stopped.

“I wonder what will make you break the fastest.” Satisfaction was evident in his voice as he felt you flutter around his fingers. “Denial or pleasure?”

Your breath hitched at Mihawk's words, the sensation of his fingers lingering just out of reach driving you to the edge of your sanity. This was a dangerous game, one where you had to balance the razor's edge between control and surrender. If… if you managed to hold out long enough… even he couldn’t resist lust forever. 

You couldn't let him see just how close you were to breaking.

Drawing on every ounce of willpower, you forced a sly smile. Your hands left his hair and traced down his chest. "Why not try both and find out?" 

He interrupted their path as you reached his belt. Deftly he brought them over your head, his weight pinning you entirely in place as he started moving his fingers again. His eyes gleamed as he looked down at you, relishing the arch of your body against his, relishing your struggle. 

He leaned close, his breath hot against your ear. "Now, now,” he tutted at you. “You can’t just skip ahead. Let's see how long you can endure."

Before you could respond, his lips descended on yours again, demanding and possessive. The kiss was bruising, filled with the same intensity that characterized every touch and word between you. His fingers made you see stars, their exploration agonizingly slow, teasing you mercilessly, never quite giving you what you needed.

You moaned into his mouth, bucked against his hand, your every instinct overtaken by a desperate need for release. The tension between you was unbearable, every nerve ending screaming for more. 

He stopped and started again and again and again, until you struggled with your breath and your whole body quivered and sang to each of his demands.

Mihawk's lips left yours, trailing down your jawline to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that almost made you lose your mind. "You're holding up better than I expected," he murmured against your skin, biting softly on your exposed nipple before soothing it with his tongue.

You barely managed a breathless laugh, closer to sobs than anything. "I told you, Mihawk. I don't break easily."

He chuckled, a sound that was both dark and amused. "We'll see about that."

His fingers moved with a different purpose now, driving you closer and closer to the edge, fast and hard. You could feel the tension coiling within you, the impending release just out of reach. And still, he held you there, teetering on the brink, refusing to let you fall.

It was maddening, the way he controlled you so effortlessly, drawing out every ounce of pleasure and frustration until you thought you might lose your mind. And yet, you couldn't help but crave more and he couldn’t help but to push you further, to see just how far you could go before you finally shattered.

"Please," you whispered, the word slipping out before you could stop it.

You felt his smile against your skin. “There we go,” he drawled out the words. “The little marine knows how to beg after all.”

With a sudden, devastating precision, he drove you over the edge, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm to bring you to the peak of ecstasy. You cried out, your body convulsing with the force of your release, your muscles straining against his hold.

As you came back to reality, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you gasping at the sudden loss. He brought his hand to your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. “Taste your resolve, little marine.”

You opened your mouth, taking his fingers in, your tongue swirling around them, tasting the remnants of your desire. The act was a surrender and he watched you with contentment, his gaze victorious.

“Good girl,” his voice was a satisfied purr, one that made your mind feel fuzzy and your body hot. “Now let’s see how well you break under pleasure.” 

His hands moved to your hips, his grip firm as he repositioned you with ease, brought you closer to the edge of the table. You felt some of your slick cooled by time, seep into the fabric of your dress, against your lower back as he pulled you over the puddle of arousal that had been slowly gathering on the wooden top.

His movements were deliberate, calculated, his eyes never leaving yours as he took off his belt, the leather sliding through the loops with a whispering sound. He eyed it for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his lips before his attention came back to you. 

“Will you be a good?” His tone was threatening. “Or do I have to restrain you again?”

You swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat. The challenge was unmistakable.  “I can be good,” you whispered, your voice hoarse but it sounded unconvincing, even to your ears. The thought of being powerless under his hold once again was somehow unbearable.

Mihawk’s smile widened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I don’t think you can, little marine.”

With a swift motion, he looped the belt around your wrists, pulling it tight enough to restrain but not to hurt. The leather bit into your skin, the sensation unnerving.

”You’re just waiting for a chance to turn the tables, aren’t you?”

You quirked your head to the side, a hint of defiance shining through. “Can you blame me?” He let go of your hands and you made no effort to keep them up, letting them drop to your stomach. “It’s not fair if you hold ALL the cards.”

“Fairness is a luxury, little marine.” His hands moved to your thighs, pushing them apart with a firm, insistent pressure. “A luxury one can rarely indulge in when playing to win.”

He paused for a moment, his gaze raking over your form, something you couldn’t decipher spreading on his features, an intensity you’d only ever seen on wild animals.

“I must admit, you’re quite the sight.” His fingers traced the edge of your underwear. With a swift motion, he tore the delicate fabric away, leaving you completely exposed. “But I think you’ll be much more entertaining once broken.”

Your breath caught in your throat in a small hiccup, the threat in his words not escaping you. Your eyes stood at a standstill as he deliberately slowly undid his pants.

His cock met your heat, gathering your slick and the soft pressure on your oversensitive clit made you want to twist and buck beneath him. He brought one of your already trembling legs over his shoulder, his hand roaming up and down in a soothing touch. 

You felt his tip at your entrance, the slow delightful stretch as he entered you in a tortuously unhurried advance. Your entire body reacted to the sensation, you arched beneath him, your eyes fluttering close, your wrists strained against your bindings desperate to hold unto something, anything to ground you. The pleasure was intense, almost overwhelming and as he met your cervix you couldn’t help the sharp cry that escaped your lips, nor the tears gathering in your eyes.

“You’re so tight, little marine,” Mihawk chuckled, taking in every detail of the moment and searing it in his mind. “So responsive. I can feel you clenching around me, trying to hold on.” 

His movements were controlled, each thrust calculated to draw out your reactions, to push you closer to the edge. You wouldn’t beg. You wouldn’t cry for mercy. You were so close. Each drag of his cock against your fluttering walls was heavenly. The room seemed to fade away, the only thing that mattered was the sensation of him inside you. 

You could feel the dam within you beginning to crack and then his hand found your clit once more and your breath stopped. It was too much. You came around him with a desperate gasp.

He didn’t stop, his thrusts still perfectly controlled. You knew the overstimulation was coming but it didn’t prepare you for the moment it washed over you. Your eyes shot open and makeup blurred tears stained your cheeks. You fought as though it was a matter of life or death. It was too much. Too fucking much. But his hands held you firmly in place, unable to escape his relentless assault.

And then a second orgasm rippled through your veins, blinding and even more intense than the first. 

But he still didn’t stop. Your cries stuck at the back of your throat, sobs wreaking your body. 

“Please,” you couldn’t help but beg again and again, your limbs so taut beneath him it was painful.

As his laugh hit your ears, you realized he didn’t care. Realized he was having fun. Your body twisted violently beneath him, too harsh for him to control and he let out an annoyed click of his tongue before flipping you over, the edge of the table digging hard into your hips as he entered you again. 

“Mercy,” you pleaded, wrists straining so intensely against your bindings that you knew you’d be nursing those red marks for days.

“Already?” His hand kneaded your ass roughly, pushing you even more painfully against the wooden top. “How disappointing, little marine.” His touch snaked up along your spine and tangled forcefully in your hair, keeping you pinned down and struggling against his hold. “I’m just getting started.”  He punctuated his statement with an especially sharp movement of his hips.

Your legs kicked in the air as another orgasm rippled through you, and you felt your arousal drip down your thigh and your drool seep out of your redded lips.

The world was careening around you and you couldn’t breathe and waves of pleasure washed over you so fast that your mind couldn’t keep up anymore. You eventually went slack beneath him, your entire body surrendering, and only then did his rhythm start to falter. 

He turned you back around, and you didn’t struggle, fully pliant for him. His fingers found your lips, played with the spit on your tongue, kept your mouth open as he reached closer to his own release. 

“Mercy,” you begged one last time, your words muffled, your lips wrapping against his fingers.

And he smiled, a predatory, victorious smile and you couldn’t help but think he looked ethereal in this moment. His hips stuttered one once more, his seed hot inside you and you clenched around him, white blurring your vision for the umpteenth time. 

He slowly pulled out, his gaze dropping to your entrance, watching his cum dribble out with a lust-blown stare. Your whole body still shook in the aftermath, your breath scattered and you spasmed at the feeling, a last vestige of submission as you whimpered. 

His fingers left your mouth and almost tenderly wiped your tear-stained cheek, brushing strands of hair that had been plastered on your sweat-covered skin behind your ear. His gaze stayed on you, considering.

“You’ve been more interesting than I expected,” He admitted as he pulled back up his pants.  “Very well, I’ll consider your offer on one condition.” He gently unraveled his belt, his hand lingering on your wrists and you gave a sharp hiss of pain he seemed to drink in with delight. 

“And that is?” you asked, your voice sounding far away, not your own.

He lazily passed the leather back in the belt loops, put back on his hat, making you wait.

“You’re the one who handles the negotiations. Just you and I. No one else.”

A slow smile of victory made its way to your lips.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

Masterlist

Might consider making a part 2, but don't hold me to that.

[whiskeynwriting]

Good Soldier

Captain John Price x Female Reader

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Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Age gap (20ish years - it’s so delicious), secret relationship, alcohol consumption (Price is drunk), dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, brief spitting, mentions of oral (m receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, squirting. 

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A/N: Drunk daddy Price babyyyy YESSS

Also, ty SO much to @thesleepingmusicneek for proof-reading this. I wrote this at 3am on a random whim and it was embarrassing how many errors it originally had🥲😂

Also also, I completely forgot to post this on Monday 🙃

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Captain John Price Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

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It’s early in the morning when he wakes you, rough hands pawing at the covers and soon your chest. At first, you’re not sure what’s going on; all you can feel is the weight of his body on top of you, the rough scratch of his facial hair rubbing over your face and neck. His back arches forward, curling around you, arms strong in their embrace. 

“Price?” Your voice is quiet and wispy, rough from sleep.

“Don’t call me that.” Comes his immediate response. “You know my name.”

And you smile at that, a sinister little smirk he can’t see through the darkness. He’s too busy pushing his lips against your cheek to notice it, anyway. 

“Sorry, sir.” That smirk is everlasting, body resting against the mattress as John works his way to your bare skin. “Didn’t realize it was that kind of moment.”

“Why the fuck else would I be on top of you?” He’s snarling, finally ripping your top from your body so he can grab a fistful of your tit. Breathing heavily, his mouth hangs open beside your cheek before closing with a deep inhale. The entirety of his presence is clouded with the smell of cigar smoke and whiskey, nothing you’re surprised by. And you’re not sure if your body is so limp and pliant because of your sleepy state, or your unwavering desire for him. 

“Wish you came tonight.” He then says in a rare moment of sweetness, almost cuddling into your body. 

“You told me not to.” Finally turning your head toward him, your noses meet, brushing over the other’s. “Don’t need your boys seeing us interact…” 

He frowns at this, your repetition of his earlier words. You’d wanted to go out with him, with all of them, but John was getting paranoid. He already felt like all eyes were on him when it came to you. Every chance he got, he went easy on you, gave all the hard paperwork to the other recruits, let you take as many breaks as you’d like during training, even made a habit of calling you into his office one too many times throughout the day. 

Reaching forward, John grabs your jaw, fingers pinching into your cheeks. That authoritative tone then makes an appearance as he demands slowly, quietly, “Behave.”

And that makes your cheeks run hot, a girlish little smile forming on your lips. Innocently, you reply with a whisper of, “Just repeating your own words, sir.” 

“Christ, you’re a sassy little thing.” With one quick motion, the hand on your face dives down to your thigh, squeezing its softness before moving to your ass. But even though he sounds genuinely annoyed, he’s still pulling on your panties, and it’s now that you realize he’s without his shirt. His chest presses down against your own, firm and full of hair and fuck if that didn’t turn you on more than anything. 

“Say my name,” He requests, mouthing at your neck. John is beyond sick of hearing that title, specifically when it came from your lips. He liked giving you this piece of him, liked creating this intimate space. 

Burning in the best of ways, his beard scrapes against your skin, soothed by the soft press of his lips. John seemed to be entranced by your entire presence, in the way you smile, the way you move. He’d never felt a sensation so ravenously delicious before he met you, so intensely carnal. 

Dropping his head down, John’s lips find your chest, mouthing at your soft slopes. It’s now that you fully give in, hands rising to either side of his face while arching into his touch. Both of those strong hands come up to grab you, too, molding your tits to fit perfectly in his palms. 

“John,”

“There we go,” With a broad smile, he praises you. “There’s the good girl I know.”

Those words make your head spin, make your center pulse and your body run hot. He knew what words like that did to you, even in the most mundane situations. You each had your triggers, particular words or phrases that made you weak in the knees and absolutely dumb in the head…

John liked to be called captain on the field, and when he heard you address him by said name, he had to fight the hard-on growing in his pants. But in bed, he liked John, he liked giving you that piece of him. And you, you fought for his attention, for the reward that made your eyes shine like stars in the sky - his praise. There have been too many times where John commended you for your hard work, even in front of the others, speaking words so innocent that no one but you could interpret otherwise. Good soldier, strong girl, even his favorite recruit. 

Days with extra praise ended with John pulling you into the locker room, bodies sweaty and sore but desperate for the other’s touch. He’ll lift you against the lockers, cold and rough against your back but it’s hard to notice when he shoves his cock between your legs. Heavy breaths and deep, quiet moans fill the smaller space, John’s sweat dripping onto your body. And you cling to him, too, with every limb you have, face burying into his neck to kiss and lick his sweat-slick skin. It happened often, way too fucking often. 

Other days, when he wouldn’t see you as much, that’s when he’d call you into his office. Little is said when this happens, John’s strong arms manhandling you over the side of his desk. He’d yank your cargos down and spit on you from behind, rubbing his fattened tip over your delicate lips. 

At times, he’d take you in the shower, too, his strength preventing you from slipping. Sometimes it’s up against the tiled wall, but more often than not, he took you from behind. Your cheek would press up against the cool tile, John’s front pressed firmly to your back. Shower sex was usually a more sensual experience, John’s hands roaming your body with an incredibly loving touch, lips obsessing over your jawline and neck. You’d sway back against him, feeling him throb inside your body while steam filled the room. You only got away with this when it was late, when no one else was in the room. 

But fucking in your room, this is new. 

“Perfect fucking tits,” He’s nibbling on your nipples now, wrapping his lips around them and sucking harshly. 

As if it’s your natural instinct, your hips rock up toward him, your blood rushing with excitement when he finally moves to settle his pelvis between your legs. It’s clear that he’s completely wasted, his movements both erratic and sloppy, but that’s never stopped him before. If anything, it makes everything that much more enticing to you. Even in his inebriated state, he wants you, he finds you. 

“Gorgeous girl, my gorgeous girl.”

With an intrigued grin, you return with, “Yours?” 

And that’s when his head shoots up, face inches from yours when he declares, “Mine.” Grabbing your jaw in one hand, he stares into your eyes as best he can with the darkness surrounding him. 

“You think any of those others boys will fuck you like I do? Think they’ll take care of you like I do?” His head tilts as he asks you this, free hand dipping to the space between your legs. “You’re my girl…” And then, his eyes are drifting down, watching the pad of his finger trace the damp trail on the center of your panties. “My good little soldier…”

“John,” The whimper that comes out sounds helpless, and he likes it that way. Lifting his head alongside a sweet smile, John leans in, finally reuniting your lips. He’s got you now, and he knows it. 

It’s been a few days, nearly an entire work week since you’ve last had each other. John was out with the task force for most of it, using tonight to celebrate a successful mission. And while it’s amazing he’s able to do that, amazing that he led another successful operation, to say you missed each other was an understatement. 

The hardened muscles of John’s chest press into you, pelvis grinding between your legs while he kisses you breathless. The hand on the back of your head keeps your mouth against him, his eyes closed in bliss. And when you moan, that liquor-soaked tongue takes advantage, shoving its way into your mouth and he’s moaning when you reciprocate the action. 

“Let me fuck you.” That raspy voice says, hands already on his pants. Looking up at him, you nod, no longer feeling like the fearsome soldier you know you are. With him, you can be soft. 

His own words prompt John to lean back then, undoing his belt and side-stepping out of his jeans. It’s quite the sight, watching this large, muscular man undo his jeans while towering above you. The bed dips with his weight, and you feel a brief chill in his absence. But it’s not for long. 

He doesn’t even bother taking your panties off, just slides them to the side before cramming his fingers into you. It makes you moan, makes you shriek when he curls them. And then you’re grasping at his shoulders, scratching over his freckled skin. Your captain doesn’t start slow, it’s quick and firm, the way he fucks you with two digits. 

“J-John, baby.” 

“Hush.” Is all he says before quieting you with his mouth, moaning into your throat when he finally tastes your tongue. “God, you’re so good like this.” Taking a breath, he shakes his head, scissoring his fingers into your dripping cunt. “Such a good fucking slut when you’re like this.”

“Fuck me,” Your eyes are rolling back, earning a proud grin from your partner. Is he your partner? Has it grown that deep? 

Before your sleepy mind can even comprehend it, he’s replacing his fingers with his cock, his head popping in. At such an early hour, it’s almost impossible for you to have a single coherent thought in your pretty little head, other than the sensation of his girth filling the space between your legs. It’s heady, and he’s heavy, throbbing against your warmth when you release such a cute little squeak. 

“Christ, just give it to me.” He grumbles above you, the scent of liquor and cigar smoke wafting through the room. That scent just does something to you, especially when you watch him smoke. Late at night, you often fantasize about blowing him while a cigar hangs from his mouth; maybe another time. “Ngh, just lay there while I take this tight little pussy.”

It fills you so completely, his warmth consuming your being. Every time you take him, it’s a perfect stretch, not enough to hurt but just enough to sting. Your hands don’t leave his shoulders, either, clinging to him and urging him down, closer to your skin. Happily, he complies; he’s been waiting for this all night. 

“Fuck, I wish you were there tonight.” John repeats, feeling you bite into his neck. “I really do.”

He tries desperately to keep his composure but he can’t, not when you’re squeezing him so sweetly, warm walls wrapping around him so tightly. It’s mere seconds before he’s moving his hips, not allowing you to take in the full sensation of him. 

“What if the boys see me?” Your question is breathy, lips kissing the hinge of his jaw and whining when he sinks back into your heat. 

“Y’know, sometimes princess…” Leaning back, John grabs onto both of your hips, staring down at you. And the window allows you the perfect view, far off street lamps illuminating the room. “I wish they would.” 

It’s then that he’s pulling your body back and forth onto his pelvis, forcing you to meet his movements. He can’t help but pound into your soft body, sinking in as deeply as he can. And wouldn’t you know it, the old man is already panting, blue eyes staring down at you with voracious desire. 

“Fuck, it’s so good. You make me feel so good, so fucking good.” John’s words, his moans, they’re louder than you’d anticipated they’d be. And honestly, it feels amazing to be able to do this to him; to be such a young woman and have this captain’s attention. 

“Baby…” Whining quietly, your hands reach back, holding onto the pillow beneath your head. It’s all you can do, really, while your body rocks against him with every thrust he gives. And John didn’t just plow into you, no… his hips swayed, plunging deep, hitting hard. “Please.” 

“Taking it so good for me, lovie.” You’re practically on display for him. With your arms raised, it leaves your entire torso vulnerable, presenting your body, as if to say use me, use me however you want. 

“Bragged about you today, princess.” 

“W-What?” The way your hips rut against him forces a groan from his throat, brows furrowing. 

“My good little soldier,” He explains, breathless, running a gentle hand down the skin of your stomach. “How well she’s done, how strong she is…”

“They’re,” Laughing briefly, you sigh. “They’re gonna figure it out.” 

“It’s like I told you… I don’t know if I care anymore.” Glancing down at your chest, John watches the way your tits bounce with his movements, the way your nipples harden when he leans in to spit on them. “Perfect fucking girl…” 

“Baby, please.” You don’t know what you’re begging for and John knows it’s just because he’s fucking you dumb, hitting that delicious spot deep inside your cunt. “Please, more.” 

With all your strength, you manage to wrap your legs around his waist, watching the reaction it pulls from him. Letting go of your hips, he lays both palms flat on the bed, dropping down to your chest. The moan that comes from John’s mouth is deep and needy, resting his face between the slopes of your breasts. He was such a sucker for that move. And that, combined with your sweet begs for more, please, John’s picking up his speed. The bed begins to rock from it, your hands leaving the pillow and finding the back of his neck and head. 

“Gorgeous fucking thing,” He says, kissing your nipple. “Sweet little girl… all for me.”

The way he moves is utterly devastating to your body, your nerves alight with that wonderfully erotic heat. Every time felt like the first with him, so passionate and erratic, quick movements and forceful kisses. He just wants you, wants to fuck you full until he physically can’t, to mark you from the inside out. 

“I fucking love it, I love this, baby.” The way your nails scratch down his back makes him shiver, strong legs supporting his body as he plunges between your legs. “You’re right.”

“I’m right?” John immediately asks, heavy breaths damp against your cheek. 

“You, you take care of me.”

And that fills him to the brink with pride. He really does try to, he always has the best intentions in mind when it comes to you. 

“Yeah, I do… because what am I, sweetheart? Who am I?” 

Fuck, you knew he’d bring this up. You fucking knew it. Of course he held onto that, your slip up from last week, before he left for the mission. But honestly, you haven’t been able to let go of it, either. The name left your lips in quiet pleas throughout the week, playing with yourself and imagining it to be him - in bed, in the shower, after workouts in the gym. And you wouldn’t have even thought of whispering that title if it hadn’t spilled from your lips the night John left. 

“I asked you a question.” He demands, punctuating it with a sharp shove. 

“Daddy.”

“Fucking Christ.” It punches out of his chest, the muscles in his body flexing to their limit. Both hands find your skin then, one securing to your hip, the other holding the back of your head. Leaning in, John rests his face against your neck, moaning freely. 

“Again.” 

“Daddy, please.” Your fingers rake through his hair, stinging his scalp when you pull on the shorter strands. “Please.” 

Tossing your head back gives him perfect access, his teeth digging in. Here, John sucks on your skin, rutting his hips against yours hard enough to slap against your ass. It rings throughout the room, alongside your collective chorus of pleasure. And he drinks in every little noise you make, every cute whimper that slips from your mouth. 

“Daddy.”

“I love it,” He can feel you sucking him in, can feel the way your slick drips down his shaft. “Oh Christ, I love that. I take care of you, yeah?”

“Yes, yes and,” Swallowing dryly, you sigh. “I wanna take care of you.” 

Together, your hips grind against each other, forcing him in as deep as he can get. Here, he pauses, breathing against your mouth before biting at your lower lip. 

“Yeah?” John questions, hand lifting so he can pull at your bottom lip with his thumb. “And how’re you meant to do that, hm?”

Moving slowly, your captain trails his facial hair along your cheek, your jaw, breathing airily against your neck. It runs a flurry of shivers down your neck and chest, arousal curling tightly in your abdomen. 

“I want you in my mouth.” Finally, you admit it. 

“Oh,” His surprised chuckle makes you feel hot in the face, sheepish. “What an offer that is. But… it’s not gonna happen, not tonight.”

“Why?” It’s a full-on whine; you can’t help it. With how wonderful he feels inside your cunt, you can’t even imagine how delightful he’d feel on your tongue. His heavy girth filling your mouth, leaking down your throat. 

“When I’m inside you, princess, feeling you raw,” Now, that ravenous pace returns, that broad body leaning back again to grab at your waist and ass. “I’m not pulling out, not until I’m done with you. And you want daddy to cum, don’t you?”

“Yes, baby. Yes…” 

Releasing a harsh grunt, John continues his movements, rutting into your core and throbbing against your welcoming warmth. 

“Can feel you dripping down my dick, sweetheart. You wanna cum?”

“John,” Arching up toward his body, you release a high gasp. “Yes! I want more, daddy, please. Please, I want more!” 

“Oh, god, you just love it, don’t you?” Snarling, John runs his nose up the column of your neck, taking in your scent. “My lovely little girl wants my dick, doesn’t she?” 

He’s whispering in your ear now, listening to your shrill cry of yes while your hand is grabbing at his ass, pulling him further into you. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, he’s grabbing your face and shoving his mouth over your own. It’s rough, mostly tongue and teeth, feeling overcome by his desire for you. 

John can feel every twitch of your velvety inner skin, can feel the way your slick drips down his balls. Christ, you get so wet for him, so wet for such an older man. 

“So sweet for me,” John huffs beside your cheek, kissing your soft skin obsessively. “Tight as a fucking virgin, aren’t you?” 

In the darkness of your room, your body rocks against the mattress, feeling John’s weight keep you down. All you can hear is his voice, his grunts and groans. All you can feel is the firm warmth of his body, his hot breath, his skin damp with sweat. 

“Cum for me,” Comes your small whimper, wanting to feel him inside you, wanting to know he’s inside you. “Please, John.” 

“No, I need you.” He insists, reaching down between your bodies. Here, his fingers toy with your clit, circling it, squeezing and rubbing it. “C’mon, princess.” John requests, lips beside your ear as he groans. “Cum on this fucking cock.”

“Fuck,” It comes out as a whisper, eyelids pinching shut with your lips falling open. 

“Feeling my little soldier… squeezing around my cock.”

“John, John.” The way he touches you makes you see fucking stars, a delicious little heat burning up through your belly. 

“Are you gonna cum for me, baby?” John can feel the way you spasm around his length, the way your breathing becomes shallow and erratic. “C’mon, lovie, be good for me. Cum on my cock, cum like you're supposed to. Just make a mess on me.” 

“I’m gonna,” You reply, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. Then, your body relaxes, hips jerking up in an involuntary act. And when John feels it, that hot rush of liquid on his pelvis and lower abdomen, he all but loses his goddamn mind. 

A groan punches from his chest, stuttering out through his mouth. Your girlish shriek forces his eyes back, feeling you tear skin with how hard you’ve scratched him. And he can’t wait for the boys to ask, he genuinely thinks he’ll tell them this time. Because… it won’t be the first time they’ve inquired about the marks on his back. 

At this point, he can’t hold back, he’s grunting into your neck while he absolutely floods your heat. Every spurt is accompanied by a sharp jerk of his hips, his body tensing and flexing and he’s doing everything he can to keep from falling on top of you. His arms hold you, squeeze you, rubbing the hot slick of your cum over both your bodies. 

“Mm…” He’s groaning, laying lightly over your chest. Your wetness has bathed his lower stomach and pelvis, the sight and feel and smell driving him mad. “Baby…” 

Gently, lazily, he kisses your neck, eyes closed in contentment. And for a moment, you wonder if he’ll stay. You’ve spent nights together before, parting in the morning to fulfill your separate duties. But will he allow himself to leave from your room? To allow the possibility of someone seeing? 

“You’re so warm.” Caressing his back, you sigh, drinking in the intimacy of this moment. He’s still inside you, flaccid and just resting. Your combined slick begins to drip from your folds but neither of you seem to care enough to clean it up, not yet. 

After a few minutes pass, John releases a saddened breath, muffling into your shoulder, “Should I go?” 

“No,” Instantly, you’re tightening your hold on him. “Stay.” 

A cocksure grin forms on his face from that, eyes drooping with exhaustion. “You want me to stay?” 

“Yes,” It comes out as a small giggle, fingers now running through his hair. “Stay, John.”

[autumnshighlady]

Run For Your Life (pt. 2)

Dark!Azriel x dark!reader

summary: you've been with Azriel for 6 months now, and you began to embrace your twisted side. Azriel finds out what happens with you're pissed off, and you decide to punish him.

special dedication to @febbrile for giving me this idea for part 2

warnings: DARK FIC! both Az and reader are unhinged psychos, sub!azriel, dom!reader, flirting, possessiveness, knife play, orgasm denial, masturbation, face sitting, gore and violence, terrible communication, there's one thing that's deliberately left unclear (send me an ask with what you think it is / what actually happened)

word count: 8.7k

see the playlist for this fic

read part 1 here

A/N: As you may know, i've had a very rough few days. I was going to take a break from writing but decided to finish this fic up first, so the last 500 ish words are rushed and i apologize for that but i hope you enjoy anyway

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

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“I’m going to have so much fun with you.” He purred before his shadows encompassed him and he vanished, leaving you alone wondering what just happened.

SIX MONTHS LATER

You tapped your nails on the wooden bartop, scowling. The whiskey burned your throat, but you barely felt it. You were pretty sure a male from a few seats down from you was trying to get your attention, but his yappy voice faded into the background. The skin tight black dress you donned was constricting, making your skin sticky and sweaty. But you paid it no mind, for your attention was elsewhere.

Azriel was chatting with a pretty female over by the counter where you order food. She was tall and leggy, curly black hair swept into an elegant updo that showed off the open back of her dress. Her hand was brushing against Azriel’s arm, her head thrown back in a high pitched laugh at a joke that surely can’t have been that funny. Anger shot through your veins as Azriel’s white canines flashed in a charming smile, not even glancing your direction.

You couldn’t decide whose throat you wanted to slit more.

For the past six months, Azriel’s visits had become an everyday routine. At first, you had resisted, attempting to fight him off as you began to realise one night wasn’t enough to satisfy his obsession with you. He always emerged victorious, always getting what he wanted in the end, your traitorous body urging you to let him take care of you. It had taken you a few weeks to come to your senses, but you were glad. Azriel knew exactly how to take care of you, not just in the bedroom, but in everyday life. He chose your outfits for you, your meals, your nights out, everything. At first, you hated it. But now, it was freeing. You no longer had to worry about anything, knowing Azriel would take care of it.

Azriel took excellent care of things that belonged to him.

Every cell in your body needed him now. He was like oxygen, a constant requirement to keep your body going. Every second the shadowsinger spent away from you was pure torture, leaving you a whiny mess when he returned from work. To anyone else, it would seem pathetic, like you were a helpless wreck of a female. But they couldn’t be more wrong. It was the opposite – it made you powerful. Not only did you belong to Azriel, but Azriel belonged to you. You had the spymaster of the Night Court all to yourself, wrapped around your finger and ready to bend the world to your whim. 

Except it didn’t feel that way right now, as the male you were now completely obsessed with was eyeing up the cleavage on another female. You scowled harder as he did nothing to deter the female as she stepped even closer to him, practically crawling into his lap. The bartender handed you another shot, and you angrily downed it, not even feeling the burn.

A male slid into the seat next to you, so close you could smell his cheap cologne. He was on the shorter side, blonde shaggy hair framing his boyish face. Large eyes drank in your figure hungrily, and he slid a hand up your back with the confidence of a much more attractive male. “Another drink for the lady over here.” He said to the bartender, flashing you what he must have thought was a charming smile. “So, what’s a pretty female like you doing–”

“Fuck off.” You grumbled, interrupting him. You reached behind and slapped his arm off your back, his skin like a wad of slime on your own.

“Oh, come on, baby,” The male persisted. “I just bought you a drink. The least you could do is entertain me.”

You groaned inwardly, sneaking a glance at Azriel. He had finally looked up at you, hazel eyes simmering with rage. The female leaning against him was too busy giggling to notice that his attention was no longer on her. His scarred hand was limp on her waist, his body frozen as he glared at you. It made you snort, how hypocritical he was being to only look at you when another male had your attention, despite him being the one with a female draping herself all over him.

So you ignored the shadowsinger. Let him have a hissy fit, as far as you were concerned he was going to fuck the pretty female anyway. If he can branch out, why can’t you. You quickly downed the drink the bartender sat in front of you, then turned toward the blonde male next to you, giving him your best sultry look. “I have a better idea,” You purred. “Why don’t I entertain you somewhere else?”

His eyes widened, a look of surprise and glee crossing his face as he fumbled to toss some money to the bartender for the drinks. You gathered your purse, turning around to meet Azriel’s stare once again. Rage came off him in waves, causing the few fae around him to scatter themselves elsewhere. Even the female that had been all over him had taken a step back in uncertainty, her eyes flickering between him and where his gaze was fixed – you. The spymaster’s body was frozen, a muscle in his neck twitching in anger. You half expected him to storm over and fling the male aside, grab you by the waist and drag you home to punish you. But he did no such thing. He only glared at you as you grabbed the male by the arm, leading him towards the exit.

You didn’t glance back at Azriel as the male followed you out of the bar and down the road towards the nearby motel.

**********************

Sunlight crept in through the small window next to the bed. The motel’s breakfast was dry and tasteless on your tongue, but you downed it anyway. The bed sheets were half on the floor, your dress from last night draped across the chair in the corner. You were wearing the male’s button-up shirt, the itchy fabric pungent with his scent mixed with yours, the bottom barely long enough to cover your ass. It was uncomfortable, but your dress got ruined last night anyway. You’d have to find somewhere to dispose of it properly.

You had a pounding headache, but the memories from last night couldn’t have been more clear. The images of Azriel’s angry glare, the male’s hands on your body, the pathetic noises he made for you after you left the bar, they were all crystal clear in your mind. You were still furious with Azriel, but satisfied that you got him back.

However, a part of you knew he was angrier than ever before. There had not been a trace of his presence all night, not even his shadows that seemed to always be around you, reporting your every movement back to him. Evidently, he hadn’t even tried to find out where you had gone last night. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous – either Azriel had abandoned you completely, or he was sitting at home, just waiting for you to return.

You shuddered, wondering what he was going to do to you. Maybe he truly would leave you for the other female, maybe that’s how mad he was.

No. You weren’t going to let him do that.

You downed the rest of the breakfast, gathering your things to get ready to check out. You sighed when you realised you had no pants, as the only thing the male had left behind was his undershirt. You stuffed your ruined dress in a paper bag, shut off the lights and left the motel room, not caring that your ass was nearly on display for the world to see.

First stop was to find some pants, and then you had business to take care of.

**********************

Luckily, it didn’t take you long to find a store to obtain some pants. Everyone had stared at your bare legs as you wandered in, but you didn’t care. In fact, it made you chuckle. If Azriel was here, he would have gone ballistic. He was the only one allowed to see you like this. If he knew that over a dozen people had seen your ass cheeks in the last hour, you couldn’t even imagine what he’d have done.

With a set of pants, you had returned to the bar, posing as a friend of the female Azriel was with last night and trying to find out more about her. The mother seemed to be on your side that day, as one of the bartenders was a close friend of hers. He blabbed easily, and within minutes you were able to find out her name, where she usually went on Saturday mornings like this one, and where she lived. Her name was Beatrice, and she always went to the farmer’s market every weekend to pick up fresh vegetables for the week. She lived in a house near the theatre, right in the heart of the city.

So you wandered towards the farmer’s market, hair down and hanging loosely around your face to hide it. The air was crisp and fresh, chatter from the market filling the air as you hovered in the corner, pretending to sift through a barrel of apples.

It wasn’t hard to spot Beatrice. Her curly black hair was trailing down her back, her cheeks flushed with evidence of a hangover. She wore a simple pair of black leggings and a yellow sweater, a cheerful smile on her face as she chatted with one of the vendors. It was almost annoying how she looked just as elegant as she had last night. You made sure to trail her from a distance, staying out of her sight. You wondered if Azriel would be proud, but shook off the thought as soon as it came. 

Once you were sure Beatrice only had a few more things to pick up at the market, you slunk down one of the alleys and headed towards her house. You knew it was the fastest way, allowing you to get to her house before she did.

It was a modest home, sunflowers lining the windowsill and a small swing on the porch. The trim was a deep brown, the wooden accents giving it a charming feel. You crept towards one of the windows along the side of the house, sneaking a glance behind you to ensure nobody was watching. You knew breaking into a house in one of the busiest parts of the city was risky. But that was also the beauty of it – there was so much going on that nobody paid attention to you.

It wasn’t hard to take a small knife and pop open the window then crawl through. You gently closed it behind you, then scanned the interior. You were in the living room, and you couldn’t deny that it impressed you. An elegant piano was in the corner, a large couch next to it with a soft-looking blanket with butterflies on it draped over the top. Various trinkets were scattered across the room, ranging from ancient-looking candle holders to a small music box designed to look like a bird cage. 

You couldn’t scent Azriel in the room, much to your surprise. But that surprise was replaced by anger – if he hadn’t taken her here, then he could have taken her to his home. The thought made you see red, but you took deep breaths and settled yourself on the sofa. Beatrice would be home any minute.

About ten minutes later, the sound of keys turning the lock at the door snapped your attention back to the present. The door opened, and Beatrice entered with a large bag of vegetables. She didn’t notice you at first, closing the door behind her and turning the lock shut.

“You know, you should really lock your windows too.” You spoke casually, and the female whirled around in fright, dropping her groceries. Her brown eyes widened in fear as they met yours, and you smirked.

“What… who the hell are you and why are you in my living room?” Beatrice stammered, backing herself up against the door.

You snorted, fiddling with the necklace you had picked up off the coffee table. It was the one she was wearing last night, you remembered – a gold chain with a small emerald. “Oh, come on,” You snorted. ‘You clearly didn’t have that much to drink last night, seeing as you were able to grocery shop this morning. Think harder.”

She frowned, and then her face went slack as the realisation appeared to hit. “You were at the bar last night. I saw you leave with that blonde male. Azriel was furious about it.”

Bingo. “Ah, so you know Azriel then.”

“Not really. We met last night and flirted. It was going well until he saw you with that male, then things got tense.”

Your voice was cold as ice as you spoke. “So Azriel flirted back, then?”

Beatrice shrugged. “Yes? I see no issue with that considering you left with another male, I assumed you weren’t together. Would you mind telling me what the fuck is going on so you can leave?”

“Come, sit.” You patted the space next to you. Beatrice stayed still for a moment, then carefully walked over to the couch. Her body was tense as she sat down, her breathing shallow.

“Look,” She said slowly. “I don’t know what the deal between you two is. I thought he was available, because he flirted back with me. He did not mention you, and I am sorry about that. But then he went quiet when he saw you with the male, and he was furious when you left with him. He tried to keep flirting with me after, tried to convince me to let him come home with me, but I turned him down. I wasn’t about to be caught up between some weird power struggle between what seems to be a fighting couple. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to let him use me as revenge. So I rejected his advances and went home alone. That’s all, I promise.”

You swallowed the bile in your throat. Azriel had started this by flirting with Beatrice, you had every reason to retaliate. You knew Azriel probably wanted to take her home, but hearing it out loud made it even worse. 

Your face must have given it away, because Beatrice’s expression softened a bit. “I’m sorry, I really am. This must be hard to hear.” She said quietly. “But in his defence, you went home with another male–”

“Shut up!” You yelled, slamming a fist into the table in front of you and making it shake. “Don’t defend him, I wouldn’t have gone home with that male if Azriel hadn’t been flirting with you first.”

Beatrice flinched away from you, fear beginning to creep back into her expression once again as she stood up. “I’m sorry,” She said. “I’m not here to judge you. I don’t want any part of this. But I’ve explained my side to you, so I think it’s best you leave.”

Beatrice walked over to where her groceries lay all over the floor and began picking them up. You bit your lip so hard you nearly drew blood, fist trembling with anger. You knew you should feel relieved that Azriel hadn’t fucked Beatrice, but that wasn’t enough.

So you took deep breaths, relaxing your body and leaning back into the soft cushion. “I’m better, you know.” You said, voice dropping huskily.

The female froze, turning around to face you once again. “What?”

“I’m better than Azriel.” 

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, I think you do.” Your voice purred like a cat as you stood up, walking over to Beatrice. She didn’t move as you closed in on her space, your body less than a foot from hers. You could smell her sweet scent, honey and lavender, you noted. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, and you leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Azriel is good in bed, but not as good as I am. Sure, he would have given you an enjoyable night, a great one even. And since Azriel is mine, and he failed to give you what you sought after, I feel I am obligated to fulfil your needs in his stead.”

Beatrice inhaled sharply, and you chuckled. You had always enjoyed bedding both males and females, and it had been so long with you submitting to Azriel that you had almost forgotten what it was like to seduce a beautiful female.

“I don’t want to get caught up in whatever this is between you two…” Beatrice’s voice was weak, the scent of her growing arousal betraying her lie.

“Oh, but this is just between you and me.” You said coolly, brushing a curly lock from her face. “Our little secret.”

When you cupped her cheek, she leaned into your touch. Satisfied, you smiled and stepped closer, pressing your body against hers. Your lips brushed hers as you spoke. “I need to hear you say it,” You murmured, caressing her waist with your free hand. “That you want me. Not him.”

“I…” Beatrice’s voice was barely above a whisper. She leaned forward in an attempt to connect her lips with your own, but you drew back.

“Be a good girl and say it.”

“I want you, not him.” She moaned as you squeezed her waist gently. “Please.”

You smiled, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the door at the back where you knew her bedroom was.

**********************

The sun was setting as you made your way back home, a small bag of vegetables in hand. The orange rays from the sunset reflected off the emerald necklace, the chain cold as ice around your neck. You knew Azriel would be waiting for you, and you were ready. You ignored the chill of the wind, still in the male’s shirt whose name you never bothered to learn. It offered you little protection against the cold, and you looked forward to the warmth of your home.

Stepping up to your door, the house looked empty. It was an illusion to anyone who walked by. You could sense Azriel’s presence in there, like an icy frost on the wood just waiting to bite you. But you didn’t care what Azriel’s wrath would bring. You had your own plan. 

You swung open the door, locking it behind you and placing the bag of vegetables on your counter.

“Would you mind telling me where the fuck you’ve been?”

Having expected him to make a dramatic out-of-the-dark entrance, you didn’t flinch like you used to when he’d sneak up on you. You sighed in annoyance, knowing it’d infuriate him more. “Farmer’s market.” You said dryly.

Azriel’s towering form appeared from the shadows, coming across to face you on the other side of the counter. You knew he was glaring at you, but you didn’t spare him a glance. “From sunup to sundown?” He demanded.

You shrugged, laying out the vegetables. “It was a busy farmer’s market.”

A shadow found its way to your chin, yanking it up and forcing you to look at him. The sight of Azriel made you gulp. His eyes were darker than you’d ever seen, the anger coming off of him in waves. If you were anyone else, you’d have cowered in fear. But you only raised an eyebrow. “Don’t lie to me.” He said icily. “You were with that male last night, were you with him today, too?”

“Why the fuck does it matter to you?” You spat. “You were too busy burying your dick inside that female to notice me. Not my fault someone else finished what you couldn’t.” The words were completely untrue, but you didn’t care. You just needed them to land their mark.

Azriel laughed heartlessly, but the anger in his eyes grew stronger. “Are you really that fucking pathetic that I’m not allowed to take my attention off of you for five minutes? Is that all it takes for you to go crawling to the nearest male ready to get fucked?”

“She was flirting with you, you absolute prick!” You screamed at him, ripping away from the shadow’s grip and storming towards the bedroom. “And you flirted back! Don’t act like you’re the victim here. You wanted to make me jealous, but what? You didn’t think I was capable of doing the same?”

Azriel followed you. “Don’t walk away from me.”

You tried to slam the door in his face, but his muscular arm caught it, easily prying it open. Azriel roughly grabbed you and slammed you into the wall. You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but he didn’t budge. “You’re the one who fucked someone else, not me.” He growled. 

You chuckled manically. “Is that what you think happened, Az?”

His grip tightened, bruising your arms. “Don’t play dumb, you stupid whore. I saw you leave with him.”

You kept chuckling, body singing with adrenaline. You saw Azriel’s gaze go down to your body, where an unmistakably male shirt clung to you. The look in his eyes was positively murderous. Wordlessly, he let go of you and you fell to the ground, continuing to laugh at him as he went towards the door. 

“Where are you going?” You asked through giggles.

Azriel grabbed truth-teller from his waist, turning to face you. “You have one chance to tell me where that male is, or I will find him myself.”

You pushed yourself up, sighing and letting out another sick laugh. Excitement bubbled in you as you spoke. “I’m not sure there will be much left of him to find.”

For the first time since you’d met him, Azriel’s eyes widened in surprise. He went utterly still, hand frozen on the door handle. Nothing moved, except for you. You were practically buzzing, a new kind of high taking over you. 

“What are you talking about?” Azriel’s voice was low.

**********************

The male’s hands were all over you as you walked towards the motel. You resisted the urge to squirm away at his teenager-like giddiness. You didn’t feel the cold night air, your body was hot with adrenaline.

“I can’t wait to fuck you, baby.” The male said breathlessly, squeezing your ass with one hand. 

You let out a fake laugh, but lead him off the cobblestone road. The motel was a few feet away, but that wasn’t where you wanted to take him. Your heels sunk into the mud, dirtying your feet as you headed towards the dark trees in the distance. You felt the male slow behind you.

“Aren’t we going to the motel?” He asked with uncertainty.

“What fun would that be?” You grabbed his hand and pulled him harder. “Come on, trust me.”

The moron just shrugged and continued to follow you. It was another ten minutes before you found a clearing, having nearly tripped over giant roots to get there. This place would do nicely, you decided.

You turned around to face the male, but his shirt was already off and he was in the process of unbuttoning his pants. “Adventurous!” He said excitedly. “I am so fucking hard baby, if you don’t get on your knees and do something about it now I think I might die.”

“Yes,” You said, sliding the knife out of the holster on your thigh. “You will.”

The male barely had a chance to speak before you brought the dagger up and slashed it across his face. Blood spurted from the nasty gash as he fell down, sobbing and clutching his face. His pants were down at his knees, a truly pathetic sight.

“There’s only one male allowed to touch me,” You said calmly. “And if he found out you laid your hands on me, he would do much worse to you than what I’m going to do. So be grateful.”

The male sobbed, pleading and begging pathetically for you to spare his life. But you weren’t phased. After all, your words were true. Nothing you did to him could compare to what Azriel would have done. You were proud of yourself for granting him this mercy. You didn’t know this male at all, know if he’d done anything to deserve a more painful death. But truthfully, you didn’t care.

You leaned down over him, pressing your body into his. It made you want to vomit, but you needed as much of his scent on you as possible. “I want you to thank me.” You said sternly. “Thank me for being merciful. Without me, your death would be stretched over the span of months, if not years. So thank me.”

“Thank you!” The male shouted. “Please, let me go!” It seemed he would do anything you asked if he thought there was a chance at sparing his life. But there wasn’t.

You slashed the dagger across his throat, and hot blood spurted all over you, coating your dress. The male choked on his own blood, sick gurgling sounds echoing throughout the eerie quietness of the clearing. It didn’t take long for the light to fade from his eyes, and death finally claimed him.

Satisfied, you stood up and headed over to the creek to wash the blood off your skin and wipe down the dagger. The water was refreshing, soothing your warm cheeks. You grabbed the male’s discarded shirt and pulled your ruined dress off, rolling the fabric into a ball and stuffing it into your purse. Pulling the shirt over your head, you strode back in the direction of the motel, knowing the wolves will have gotten rid of the body for you by sunhigh.

**********************

You smirked as Azriel stared you down after you told him the story, dumbfounded. His lack of ability to comprehend that you killed the male was almost insulting, but you mostly found it funny. He looked adorable with his eyes wide and his jaw slack, shock written all over his pretty face. It made your blood sing.

“You killed him.” It was more of a statement than a question. No judgement laced Azriel’s deep voice, just awe. Almost as if he was impressed.

“I did.” You said proudly, crossing your arms over your chest. “You would have been proud of me, Az, if you were there. If you had actually paid attention to me instead of trying to fuck Beatrice.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, and you instantly realised your mistake. He took a step towards you, cocking his head. “I never told you her name.”

You cursed inwardly at your slip up. You had gotten so caught up in sticking it to Azriel that you mentioned Beatrice by name, something you weren’t supposed to do. Oh well, you’d just have to improvise. “No, you didn’t.” You purred, pointedly bringing your hand up to toy with the emerald necklace.

Azriel’s hazel eyes zoned in on the necklace, and his face went slack once again. “Did you kill her too?”

You giggled, the ice cold necklace a contrast against your warm fingers. “That doesn’t matter to you. Because you won’t get to fuck her, so it shouldn’t matter if she’s dead or alive.”

“She was innocent in this.” Azriel growled. “She didn’t know you were with me.”

“Innocent is hardly the word I’d use.” You snorted. “Besides, you don’t get to be a fucking hypocrite. So you can kill males who put their hands on me but I can’t do the same?”

“You shouldn’t have to!” Azriel hissed, towering over you with his wings flaring. “You are mine. It is my job to protect you, to keep your hands clean. You should not be involved in this shit”

You glared up at him. “I guess I’m just as twisted as you now.”

Something inside the spymaster shifted at your words, and his shoulders slumped. He reached his arms out and wrapped them around you, pulling you into his strong chest. You felt his chin rest against the top of your head, and he inhaled your scent. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” He murmured. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have ignored you, this is all my fault. Please forgive me, I cannot lose you. You are all I think about every breathing moment of my existence. There’s not a line in the world I wouldn’t cross for you. Please tell me how I can make it up to you.”

Part of you wanted to melt into Azriel’s arms, to let him shield you from the rest of the world. To lay you down and worship your body like a priest at the altar, making you feel good and see stars. He was so good at taking care of you, even when he was an ass about it he always knew exactly what you needed at that moment.

But for the first time, you didn’t give in, wanting to show that side of you that you had kept hidden from him. Until now. “You want to make it up to me, Az?” You cooed.

He nodded against your hair, squeezing tighter.

“Kneel.” You said firmly. 

Azriel paused, pulling away but keeping his hands on your waist as he stared down at you in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said, kneel.” Your voice was edged like steel, a husky but harsh tone to it, one you hadn’t used in a while. At first, you weren’t sure if it would work. Azriel was a dominant male and loved control, seeing if he would be willing to give it up for you was a huge gamble.

But while Azriel had never uttered the words ‘I love you’, he had always promised you that you were his world, that he would do anything for you. And this was his chance to prove it.

“You think you’re in charge?” Azriel’s tone was light, testing the waters to see if you were serious or not. “Come on, sweetheart. You know how good I can make you feel. Let me take over, so you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about a thing.”

You stood with your chin high, unflinching as you repeated yourself. “Kneel.”

Azriel swallowed, and for a moment you thought he was going to laugh and walk out. But the male simply bowed his head, dropping to his knees and placing his scarred hands in his lap. You stepped back, satisfied as you admired the view. The silver moonlight through the windows cast beautiful highlights across the Illyrian. His glorious wings were flared out slightly, the bottom part lightly trailing on the ground. Azriel’s dark hair cast shadows across his face, the only light coming from it being his curious hazel eyes looking up at you. He looked like a fallen angel, a once mighty god begging at your feet. 

Satisfaction flooded through your body. The roles would be reversed tonight, you decided. Azriel would be the one begging you this time. You began unbuttoning your shirt, and the male’s hands instinctively reached up to help, so you slapped them away. “Did I say you could move?” You demanded.

“No.” Azriel said sullenly, moving his hands back into his lap obediently. His eyes were dark, a turmoil of emotions behind them. You could tell he was fighting his instincts to assume his usual role, grabbing you and pinning you to the bed to do with as he pleased. But he was fighting to obey you, to give you satisfaction in a different form.

“Then stay there,” You commanded sternly. “And watch.”

Azriel’s throat bobbed, seemingly swallowing his protests as he nodded. You shed your shirt and pants, striding confidently over to your bedside drawer, letting your hips sway as you went. You could feel Azriel’s intense gaze burning into you with curiosity, making you chuckle inwardly. He was about to get a taste of his own medicine.

For months, Azriel had controlled your pleasure. He decided when you could touch yourself, when you were allowed to cum, how many times you could be pushed over the edge. And you gladly gave yourself to him, willingly subjecting yourself to his torturous teasing whenever he was mad at you. Once, the spymaster had edged you for an entire night until you passed out. Tears had streamed down your face for hours, body aching the next day from being so tense. Azriel was a generous lover, but a cruel one as well. And now it was your time to turn the tables on him.

You opened the drawer, grabbing the blue vibrator he had gifted you all those months ago. It hadn’t been used much since – there were only a few times when Azriel’s shadows would hold the vibrator to your clit as he pounded into you, as he preferred to use his own hands. As good as the vibrator was, it couldn’t compare to the spymaster’s touch. Which is why you knew he was about to be driven to madness.

Sexual weapon in hand, you walked back over to the kneeling Illyrian. You stopped centimetres from his face, which was level with your thigh. He was breathing heavy, eyes dark as he inhaled your scent. But he had learned from his previous mistake it seemed, as he kept his hands to his sides.

“Take off my panties.” You said coldly. “And do not use your hands.”

Azriel stared up at you, the hazel in his eyes barely visible. He leaned forward, his teeth finding the edge of your blue lace panties. They grasped it, his lips brushing your skin as sharp canines tugged at the fabric. He visibly shuddered, his lips so close to where he wanted them to be, yet not allowed to touch. The scent of your arousal was thick in the air, forcing Azriel to ignore it. You sucked in a breath as his eyes met yours as he managed to slowly pull them down your thighs, not breaking eye contact as they fell to your feet.

You stepped out of the fabric, kicking them to the side and turning around to settle yourself on the bed. You sat on the end, facing Azriel and slowly spreading open your legs. The male’s eyes zeroed in on your glistening cunt, and you noticed his hands trembling with effort to keep them at his sides. You turned on the vibrator, placing the suctioning tip against your clit. The sensation made your legs twitch at the sudden contact, and you let out a loud moan, letting your free hand cup your breast.

Admittedly, the moan was a bit of an exaggeration to piss off Azriel. Evidently, it worked. The shadowsinger was glaring at you. “Oh please,” He scoffed. “We both know that won’t be enough to satisfy you.”

You let out another sigh, kicking the vibrator’s intensity up a notch. “It’s more than you gave me last night. I wore one of your favourite dresses, and you didn’t even try to touch me. I’ve had to go and find satisfaction elsewhere, since you wouldn’t give me any.”

The room was stifling, the scent of Azriel’s arousal mixed with your own, and the faintest traces of Beatrice’s honey and lavender perfume clinging to your skin. You rocked your hips against the toy, your cunt weeping mere feet from Azriel’s desperate face.

“Stop.” He growled sternly. “Let me take care of you, sweetheart. Come on, you know I can do better than that toy.”

 You ignored him, your other hand trailing from your breast across your collarbones, caressing all over your skin as you felt that familiar pressure build up in your stomach. It was a slightly foreign sensation, a different feeling than how the buildup to your orgasm when Azriel ate you out felt, or the way your body neared climax with his cock buried inside you. You imagined it was Azriel’s fingers on your clit, expertly working you as you came closer to your orgasm.

“Ok, this little act is over.” Azriel tried to sound firm, but there was a weakness in his voice that dimmed his threat. “Let me touch you. You know the rule – you’re not allowed to cum without my permission. And I don’t give you permission.”

You chuckled at the falter in his tone. “No. You are going to sit there and watch me do what you failed to do the other night. Your rules don’t apply tonight, Az, so suck it up. If you want to touch me, you’ll have to beg.”

Your voice went high pitched as your legs began to shake. Azriel’s protests faded into background noise as you came, your lower body heated and electrified as your orgasm went through you. It wasn’t as intense as some you’d had before, but the unceasing buzzing against your clit as you writhed through your high made you oversensitive. 

Once you had come down from your climax, you set the vibrator aside, staring at Azriel. The veins in his arms were prominent with his effort to keep himself from pouncing on you. Disbelief was written all over his face, as if he couldn’t believe you had actually obeyed him. And that he had let you.

“I told you, your rules don’t apply tonight.” You panted heavily. “Now remove your clothes and lay down on the bed.”

Azriel scrambled to his feet, glaring at you but obliging anyways. He smirked confidently as he peeled his shirt off, revealing those rock hard abs that you loved riding so much. You could never get enough of his body, no matter how many times he stripped in front of you. He was truly a work of art from head to toe.

The spymaster unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants and underwear down to reveal his rock hard erection. Your mouth watered at the sight of his naked form, but you did not budge. You only stared at him coldly, rather than dropping to your knees and giving in like he had clearly expected. Letting out a huff of frustration, Azriel crawled onto his bed, flipping onto his back and settling in.

Shadows curled around his wrists, bringing his arms above his head and holding them prisoner there. Azriel’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief, and you giggled. It seems his shadows were on your side tonight. 

You crawled over top of him, straddling his waist. His hard cock poked into your backside, making your core pulse against his muscled lower abs. You leaned over top of him, placing one hand beside his head and placing your face inches from his own. The spymaster was breathing heavily, staring up at you with awe. 

“You weren’t good to me last night, Azriel.” Your voice dropped, a dangerous tone gleaming on the edge of it. “You flirted with another female when I had gotten all dressed up for you. Instead of even just looking at me, you tried to take her home and fuck her instead of me.”

“I didn’t f–” Azriel’s protest was cut off by a gasp, as you lifted your hips off of him and your free hand reached down and firmly gripped the base of his cock, just how he liked it. He choked on his words, eyes widening as you slowly moved your hand up and down.

“You think she’d be enough to satisfy you?” You teased, mocking his words to you earlier. “She satisfied me well enough. But she wouldn’t be able to give you what I can. She wouldn’t know how you like your cock stroked, but I do.”

To emphasise your point, you squeezed him tighter and twisted your wrist, letting your thumb graze the slit. Azriel let out a breathy moan, shutting his eyes. 

“Look at me.” You snapped, forcing the male to open his eyes. He obliged, letting out little gasps as you continued to stroke him. 

You leaned forward and let your lips graze his neck, your teeth skimming the skin ever so slightly as you picked up the pace of your strokes. Azriel whimpered underneath you – whimpered. The sound was pathetic and needy, and filled you with so much joy. His pretty face was scrunched up with effort, his hands writhing in his unrelenting shadows. You lightly sucked and bit all across his neck and collarbones, knowing that the feather light touches would drive him wild and send him towards his orgasm faster. You knew Azriel always lasted a long time, his god-like stamina making your body tremble as he relentlessly pounded you through orgasm after orgasm.

But you knew by the way his cock twitched in your hand that he wouldn’t last long like this. You let the tip of his cock graze your slit as you pumped, and the shadowsinger moaned loudly, his muscles flexing.

“You like that, pretty boy?” You cooed against his neck.

Azriel whimpered, bucking his hips into your hand.

“None of that now,” You chastised. “I asked you a question.”

He exhaled. “Yes.” Was all he could manage through his moans. 

“I can feel how close you are, it’s pathetic. Normally you last longer. Is this something you’ve dreamed of, baby? Hm? Tell me, do you want to cum?”

Azriel’s eyelids fluttered as he fought to keep still underneath you, a thin sheen of sweat coating his tanned body. “Yes! Gods, yes. Please.”

You sank your teeth into his neck, biting down harshly and making him cry out. Your hand next to his arm shifted, letting your fingertips graze the edge of his wing. “Beg for it then.”

“Please,” The spymaster whimpered. “I’ll do anything you want. Please, just let me cum. Please.”

You hummed, pretending to consider it. Just as his abs tensed signifying his nearing release, you sat up and released his cock. Azriel let out a frustrated yet pathetic groan. “What the fuck?” He protested.

“Not so fun being on the receiving end of that one, is it?” You asked, sitting down on his abs and lazily grinding yourself into them. “I know you’d rather die than admit that you secretly fucking loved it. How pathetic is that? The mighty spymaster of the Night Court, crying underneath me because I wouldn’t let him finish.”

Azriel’s face was deep red, his jaw clenched. A few strands of black hair clung to his forehead. “Please,” He begged with droopy eyes. “I fucked up. Let me make it up to you. Please, let me touch you. Let me make you feel good. Please, I need to touch you. I need you. All I want is to make you feel good.”

You scraped your nail down his chest, eliciting a shiver from the body beneath you. “Is that so?”

“Yes ma’am.”

A wave of arousal had rushed through your veins at not just the title, but the ease at which he said it. It rolled off his tongue so naturally. Sure, you had been called many names in the bedroom before in both submissive and dominant roles, but this was new. And you fucking loved it.

You gripped his chin firmly, letting your nails dig into the skin as you brought your face closer to his. “Say that again.”

He gulped. “Yes ma’am. Please, let me make you feel good.”

You chuckled darkly, sitting up. The shadows repositioned his arms slightly, giving more room on either side of Azriel’s head for what you were about to do, as if they knew already. “I’m going to sit on your face and use you like my own personal toy. You are going to choke on my cunt just as I have choked on your cock, and you are going to be grateful for it and thank me after. You do not get to touch me with your hands, and you will take what I give you. Am I clear?”

Azriel nodded vigorously, eyes gleaming. Truthfully, you knew this was a reward for him. There was nothing in this world he loved more than eating you out. He had often even encouraged you to ride his face. But never before had he not been able to grab your hips and touch you.

You climbed up his body, seating one knee on either side of his head where the shadows had now cleared space for you. As you slowly lowered your cunt towards his face, the Illyrian strained his neck to lift his head as high as he could in a pathetic attempt to get closer to your core.

Briefly, you recalled all the times Azriel had lectured you about how you refused to fully sit on his face, afraid you’d suffocate him. He’d always end up growling in frustration and grabbing your hips, firmly pulling you down so you were seated on his face. 

It was time you showed him you learned your lesson.

With no warning, you lowered your cunt onto his face, fully seating yourself on it and grabbing onto his hair with both hands. Azriel groaned in delight underneath you, the sound sending vibrations right into your core. You moaned in relief, rocking your hips against his face. Lewd noises filled the room as Azriel ate you out like a man who hadn’t had a meal in days, eagerly slurping up all your juices. You shamelessly ground into his face, wanting more.

You cried out as his tongue shoved its way inside you, your clit scraping his nose in a way that made your legs twitch. For a second you wondered how Azriel was managing to breathe, but his relentlessness reassured you that he was perfectly fine somehow.

“You’re so fucking good at this,” You moaned. “It’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? Eating my pussy? Pretty boy is just a desperate little whore, isn’t that right?”

The noise Azriel made was muffled, but akin to a pathetic whimper. Something you knew would ring in your ears like a new favourite song.

It only took a few more minutes before your orgasm built up, barrelling towards you at rapid speed. Your thighs tensed up, clenching around his face as you came, yanking harshly on his silky hair. Azriel groaned as you did so, your juices coating his face. Part of you had been tempted to not let him make you finish, but you couldn’t help it. His mouth felt too good on you, something you had missed over the last few days.

Finally, you lifted yourself off Azriel’s face, hearing him take in a gasping breath as you did so. His hazel eyes were closed in bliss, face shiny from your juices as he panted for air. “Thank you, ma’am.” He murmured. You crawled down his body, seating yourself back on his abs while you collected your composure.

“You did so good, Az.” You purred, reaching behind you and gently brushing your fingers against his hard cock. “You’re so good to me. Now, have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Azriel said breathlessly. 

“What lesson would that be?”

“Don’t flirt with other females.”

“Exactly.” You pulled out Truth-Teller from its sheath and pressed the sharp blade against his throat, the shadows having discreetly brought it to you from the spymaster’s discarded belt. “You are mine, and mine only. Nobody else gets to have you but me. Nobody gets to touch you but me. If they do, I will remove their hands and feed their body to the beasts in the woods. And if you try to touch another female in a manner I would not deem fit, it will be your body that gets fed to the creatures. Understood?”

Azriel’s hazel eyes were wide, filled with a mixture of awe, horror, and lust. It made you chuckle inwardly, how he seemed surprised that this is who you had become. You weren’t sure why he would be – he had become your new life, every fibre of your being tied to his and his alone. Azriel was unhinged and possessive to begin with, even more so now that he had you.

He was bad, but you were worse.

“Yes ma’am.” Azriel croaked out, swallowing against the cold metal of the blade.

“Good. Now you’ve made me cum, I think it’s only fair if I let you do the same, right?”

“You may do as you see fit, ma’am.”

A smile bloomed across your face. You could tell it was hard for him to say – his cock was hard as a diamond, his body begging for a release. But he chose the right answer. “Correct. You may fuck me now, any position you see fit. But you are not to cum without my permission.”

The second the shadows binding Azriel’s wrists together slipped away, his scarred hands grabbed your waist and flipped you over, pinning you underneath him. His eyes were frantic as if he worried you’d change your mind. He roughly spread your legs and you let him, relishing in the feeling of him over top of you. He lined up his cock with your entrance and slammed in.

You gasped, the air leaving your body. Azriel’s size was something you would never quite get used to. It had taken you a long time to be able to take him with no preparation, and even then it still hurt like hell for the first bit. But you learned to relish in the pain, especially when he praised you for taking him so well.

But there was no praise coming from his lips this time. Azriel fucked you relentlessly, chasing the pleasure that you had denied him earlier. His movements were frantic, a change from his usual deliberate pace. The room was filled with slapping sounds and moans. Azriel was hitting so deep inside of you that you began to feel dizzy, your eyes rolling back in your head.

Azriel had fucked you harder than anyone ever had before, but this was completely different. It took less than five minutes for Azriel to tense up, signifying he was approaching his orgasm quickly.

“You’re going to cum, aren’t you?” You teased, voice shaky with the force of his thrusts.

Azriel leaned over you, his head next to yours with one arm cradled around your head. “Yes! Please, I need it! Please let me cum.” His voice was utterly broken and fragmented.

You were silent for ten seconds, just long enough to feel the panic coming from him, making him think you were going to say no. But you brought a hand up and stroked his wing in that one spot you knew drove him crazy. “Yes. Good boy. Cum for me, Azriel.”

The spymaster erupted into a powerful orgasm the second his name finished leaving your lips. Hot seed filled your insides, making you cry out. His hips jutted against you as he came, his head tilted back exposing his throat as he moaned loudly, a single tear running down his cheek.

Azriel’s thrusts slowed as he rode out his orgasm, pumping his cum back into you as it spilled out of your hole. He panted, wings twitching as he pulled out and slumped down into the spot beside you on the bed. “Thank you, ma’am.” 

You hummed, satisfied with your work. If you had told yourself months ago that you would be the one to break Azriel one night, you’d have laughed at yourself. It filled you with pride, seeing the stone cold, dominating shadowsinger become a whimpering mess all because of you. 

It made everything you had done worth it.

You reached for Truth-Teller, propping yourself up beside him and putting the cold blade onto his skin, causing him to flinch and look at you in surprise. You trailed the knife down his body, circling it around where his heart was. You angled the blade, pressing the tip of it into his skin, right above the beating muscle. A thin trail of blood ran down from the cut. “This heart is mine. And if you try to give it to anyone else, I will carve it out of you myself.”

The shadowsinger was holding his breath, unmoving against your touch. You knew that he would easily be able to disarm you if he needed to, but there was still a hint of fear in his eyes.

No, he was not scared of you cutting his heart from his chest. He was scared of you running away from him.

You smirked, satisfied at his reaction. You weren’t going anywhere. You were right here with Azriel, where you belonged. 

[povlnfour]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ END UP HERE (LN4)

pairing: lando norris x f!reader

summary: a night out, a long walk home, and a pretty stranger happy to accompany you.

word count:

content warnings: mentions of alcohol/being tipsy, not proof read bc authors dyslexia won

“how did we end up talking in the first place?” — end up here, 5 seconds of summer

“do you even know who that is?” was the first thing your friend had said when she dragged you away from the group gathered around you by the bar.

of course you didn’t know the names and faces of the all people who scattered the club. all you knew was that this was one of the hottest places in monaco, and it’s guest list bolstered some giants of the motorsports world, a fact you were well aware of before agreeing to join your friends for the night. the group were ecstatic to have received a private invite to such an exclusive place from one of your more grander friends, the prospect of mingling with celebrities certainly playing on their minds — but you were more bothered about trying as many cocktails on the long menu that the place offered.

what you hadn’t expected was to be a point of attraction the moment you walked in. you knew you stood out in here, dressing nothing like the celebrities and trust fund babies you mixed with, but you certainly didn’t anticipate this drawing people towards you.

a man had approached you as you ordered a round for the small collection of friends you had come with, asking for your name. wanting to pay no mind to potential suitors, you told him trouble, before a sharp tug on your arm to drag you back towards the dance floor (drink now in hand) had you being reprimanded by your friend.

“am i meant to?” you hissed close to your best friend’s ear, straining to be heard over the baseline.

“you’re hopeless.” she had groaned, swiftly merging back in with the other girls in attendance. the group was growing with every hour, the alcohol running through people’s veins allowing for more socialising with strangers.

the music blared on, and you suddenly realised you weren’t half as drunk as you had intended to be. there was a nice buzz below your skin, one that danced through your fingertips and let you lower your guard on the dancefloor, but it was clear you’d remember everything in the morning (which wasn’t your initial intention).

with a swift glance around the room, you caught the eye of a handsome stranger. his face was recognisable, but not enough to put one of the aforementioned names to the sight. he was most likely another driver, as you recognised a few of his friends that milled to one side from the television.

the pretty stranger sent you a wink from where he lazed against a wall, your eyes grazing down his arms to the small glass of presumably whiskey he was nursing. you may have done something stupid, approached him on a whim, if it weren’t for your friend grabbing your arm once again and dragging you back into the action.

your bold decision had been interrupted, but it didn’t stop you from putting on a show. you were suddenly aware of the eyes following every move, ensuring that each roll of your hips was perfectly in his eyeline.

a few drinks more, and a lot of dancing later, people began to file out with each passing minute. one of the friends you had originally attended with left with a man she had met that night, another leaving to get food with a group you had met on the dancefloor, until it was just you and two others from the initial gang left. there were quite a few people fluttering around still, clearly determined to stay until doors closed.

you were tired by now, more than ready to call it a night despite the adrenaline still flowing through you. it was more that stage of just drunk enough that you could keep going if you wanted to, but sober enough to be somewhat responsible.

well, somewhat responsible.

when your remaining friends had expressed their interest in moving to a different club, you had politely declined the invite to join. it took some convincing that you’d be okay walking home to your apartment on your own, but once they were thoroughly convinced, they bid you adieu and left you alone.

alone, bar the presence of a certain handsome stranger still hovering in the guest area.

he was flanked by some of the same people from before, the crowd having dwindled enough that it no longer looked impenetrable. you recognised two of the men from the group who had approached you at the bar, confirming your suspicions the brunette from before was involved in racing one way or another. if you had half a sense, that information would have made you turn back and rethink your decision.

you were too far into your master plan now (also known as: not sober enough to make fully calculated decisions), and you knew what you wanted.

so with shoes noticeable tighter on your feet than they were at the beginning of the night, you took a heavy stride towards the collection of people chatting amongst themselves.

before you had even breached the small collection of chairs that held the strangers friends, they all seemed to notice your arrival and disperse as though commanded, leaving only you and your target. you barely had to look up to know his attention was all on you at the moment, and the alcohol in your system brought out an involuntary giggle at the thought of keeping him hanging all night.

“hello, trouble.” he spoke breezily, accent a lot more british than you were expecting.

“glad to know that got around.” you grinned, stopping just a foot ahead of him, distance close enough that he could touch if he really wanted to “wan’a keep calling me that, or should i put you out of your misery?”

the stranger was even more tanned up close, skin smooth and glowing under the club nights. his cheeks stretched with a smile under your attention, and you couldn’t help but mimic the action. “i could think of a few other things to call you, but your name would be nice”

“y/n.” you offered, taking the drink out of his hand and downing the remaining drop as a form of payment.

he laughed lowly, accepting the now empty glass back without batting an eyelid. “lando.”

“well, lando. it would appear all my friends are gone, and i have no one to walk me home,” you put on your best pout, jutting one hip out to the side to really emphasis just how distraught you were over the turn of events “care to do the honours?”

lando didn’t bother pretending to dwell it over, instead pushing himself off of the wall in one smooth action, and offering you an arm to lead. you took it gladly, expecting him to at least offer a goodbye to his friends. to your surprise, he did no such thing, leading you to an exit you certainly didn’t recognise.

when the fresh air hit you, your body relaxed in relief, entirely unaware just how stuffy the large yet crowded club had been for most of the night. the silence in the roads around your exit told you that lando had most likely guided you towards the back door of the club, a much easier escape into the main streets of monaco without the fear of the crowds. yet another sign he must be someone important. if you thought about it enough, you recognised his name from the world of motorsports, but you couldn’t entirely place him.

you didn’t care to ask for now, way too focused on tearing the heels off of your feet to feel the cold ground below. dangerous, yes, but well worth the relief you gained from the relief of release from such terrible choice in footwear.

glancing back at lando, you found him watching in amusement, leant against the doorframe with an eyebrow raised.

“i didn’t plan to be out this late.” you defended before he had even said anything.

lando raised his hands in a defence of his own “no judgement here. you were certainly putting in a shift on the dancefloor.”

humming, you began to step along the curb side that started your route home, passing lando a glance over your shoulder. “i knew you were watching.”

“yeah? putting on a show?” lando caught up with you despite your head start, probably made a lot easier by the fact you were practically pigeon stepping along the pavement, playing around with your own balancing skills. he was able to make up ground rather quickly.

the bars and casinos that littered the streets around you were still open and bustling, the bright lights of monaco all blurring together by now. you noticed a few cars go by, ones you didn’t recognise but could certainly admire, and it seemed your new friend was doing the same.

“yup!” you exclaimed, pointing down a street that held some of the now closed cafes “this way.”

lando turned easily, his hand coming up to rest on your waist as the stones dug into your heels and you stumbled as a result. you steadied yourself with a determined got it, but weren’t deterred at all — if you wanted to walk like this, you were going to walk like this!

… a thought that only lasted a few more seconds as you got fed up of such a slow pace. you took to skipping instead, hopping slightly in front of lando and turning to face him. you could see the amusement on his face mix with a certain fear, most likely over the fact you weren’t looking where you were going. you swung the hand up with your heels in it as you spoke again, narrowly missing hitting yourself in the face. “i like your shirt!”

lando laughed, quickening his pace to close the gap, and gently engulfing your hand in both of his. you were just about to ask him what he was doing when he cleverly dislodged your heels from your grip and took them himself. you would have pouted, poked fun at him not wanting to hold your hand, had he not slipped his spare one into yours, pulling both of your arms back to your side and leading you down the roadside facing the right way this time.

“boo,” you shoved at his shoulder ever so slightly “i thought you’d be more fun than this mr. lando.”

like anyone would with a petulant child, lando grinned and pushed you away, pulling you back suddenly via your fingers that were intertwined. the action made you squeal, gripping on to his shoulder when you returned to his side. you frowned at him, no real weight in the action, but it was worth it for the reaction when he poked the tip of your nose with a wide smile.

“you’re certainly living up to your nickname, trouble.” he added, and you began to swing your conjoined hands between your bodies, a pep in your step that he happily mimicked.

you giggled, pulling yourself back to briefly bury your face in the crook of his neck, cheeks heating up at the memory of what you had done tonight. “i’m so sorry to your friend who i entirely pied at the bar.”

lando laughed again, this time full bellied and hearty. you could feel him shaking his head in amusement, glancing up from where you hid your face to find him already smiling at you. “don’t be. george needs humbling.”

you stopped walking suddenly, face gone pale as you realised who that man had been, and why your friend was so shocked. lando got the memo, stopping in concern and prepared to help you out of any hypothetical crisis. “please do not tell me i told george russell my name was trouble, and ditched him at the bar.”

there was a beat of silence for just a second, lando keeping his composure, before he suddenly doubled over in violent shakes of laughter. you whined in instinct, pleading with him that it wasn’t that funny, but eventually humour won and you joined him in his joy.

“oh my god my friends are never going to let me live this down!” you shouted, leaning on his hunched over body for support.

you were getting a few looks from passersby, probably confused at to why two young people were practically keeled over in the middle of the busy streets in the early hours of the morning. it was funny, really, you hadn’t even noticed just how busy the streets around you actually were as others made their way home. you had been so transfixed on the man beside you for most of it.

“that’s— oh my god i’m not letting him live this down.” lando chuckled, slowly gaining his composure once more as he straightened up. you didn’t miss the way he had to wipe tears from his eyes, and you thought briefly you wouldn’t mind making him laugh like that again.

“well, now i’ve embarrassed myself thoroughly…” you began, lando grinning as he smoothly linked your hands back together and continued the route down the road, counting on you for guidance as to the direction of where you were staying.

you hummed to yourself as you kept walking, a tune that you had heard in passing at the club that night. lando recognised it almost instantly, head turning to look at you with a raised eyebrow “bon jovi?”

you smacked your lips together “is that who is by? i only know like three lyrics. something about living on a prayer.”

“that’s the one.” he smiled again, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight tooth gap that made his grin so adorable.

whilst this wasn’t the way you had initially seen your night going, you wouldn’t complain about being looked at like that. it was surprisingly easy to talk to the man, despite his obvious status and the fact that he was most likely famous. he hasn’t made you feel out of place, and it made you want the night to keep going.

so when you stopped in front of your hotel, building towering over you, there was a surprising ache in your chest that this could be it.

“well, this is me.”

lando looked just as disappointed as you, clearly hoping the jaunt would be longer. he didn’t fret, simply offering to walk you inside so that he could be sure you got in safe. you both knew he could simply watch you walk through the doors and be fine — what with the establishments security and all — but it was clear neither wanted the journey to end just yet.

you accepted, not one to turn down more time spent with a pretty person, and it was only when you called the elevator that you began to say your goodbyes.

“well, thank you for, uh, walking me home.” you shuffled, watching as the numbers decreased on the led screen to indicate the lift was getting closer.

“thank you for making my boring night a lot more interesting.” lando retaliated, hands slipped in the pockets of his jeans to feign nonchalance.

the telltale ding of the elevator doors opening made your heart drop. perhaps it was the remaining alcohol in your system despite how much you had sobered up by now, but a certain bravery was lingering.

“i’m gonna wonder where this boldness came from in the morning.” you started, barely registering the confused expression on lando’s face before you pulled him down and crashed your lips together.

lando reacted instantly, hands wrapping around your waist as your own tangled in the curls at the bottom of your neck. the heels he held in one hand collided with your body at the impact but you paid them no mind as he confidently walked you back into the elevator until your back was pressed against the large mirror. he wasted no time in pushing your bodies together, using his strength to tug your waist against his as he reluctantly broke the kiss, still remaining close enough to whisper against your skin, “what floor?”

“seven.” you responded, kissing him again within milliseconds of finishing. you could feel his hands fumbling around on the buttons, helplessly searching for your floor without turning his head before the doors closed and you were finally away from the prying eyes in reception. you had certainly given security a show.

that would be an embarrassment for the morning, for now you were significantly more focused on the way lando’s hands traced the curve of your ass. he gave a firm squeeze that had you gasping into his mouth, an action he took perfect advantage of.

any vertigo the elevator moving upwards may have brought you was grounded by the firm hold on your body and the tongue slipping into your mouth. he tasted vaguely of whiskey, dulled throughout the night, and you found yourself getting addicted to the feeling of his mouth of yours. you may have done something more scandalous right then and there had the lift not drawn to a stop and the doors beeped open.

the two of you turned, being met with a giant FLOOR 8 ahead of you — and that was when you lost in once more.

leaning on lando, you couldn’t help the uncontrollable giggles that slipped from your mouth as he selected the correct floor this time.

“in my defence, i was preoccupied.”

a/n: hello pals

i realise only now how similar this is to overdrive but,,, forgive me i wrote it in a meeting

me vs characters meeting lando on a night out and being obsessed immediately >>>

i also: heavily dislike this it just felt rushed so any comments appreciated as author is suffering. battling with my dyslexia every two seconds writing this

- gigi xx

taglist (found here): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @paolexsstuff @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @moonypixel @celestialpato @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313

[bruciemilf]

Bruharvey but Harvey desperately has to impress single parent Bruce Wayne's flock of protective kids.

OHH, I think both Harvey and Two Face acknowledge that, while Bruce loves all his children dearly and needs all of their blessings, they can be bribed one way or another;

Harvey's a whole mafioso that robs banks on the regular. He becomes the personification of " daddy's money."

Dick? All the gym equipment he can imagine.

Damian? Lifetime access to the Zoo + petting privileges.

Tim? His own coffee shop.

Cass doesn't ask for anything besides her dads happiness and safety, but Harvey buys her a ballet studio cause she's his princess

Duke? Again, doesn't ask for anything. " I'm frankly offended that you think my honor and love has a price, --"

" So you don't want your own Batmobile?"

"...Hold on. Let's talk."

But. That being said. There's one child whose word reigns supreme over everyone else's. The one lounged on Bruce's lap like an evil cat.

Jason.

He can't be bought; Or flattered. Or impressed. Or be reasoned with.

Let's face it, the guy who masterfully bended an entire criminal network on a rebellious whim has little reason to value your word over his.

Harvey tried everything. A library cropped straight out of beauty and the beast. A fully paid college tuition for creative writing and English literature. Sending Tim to Mexico.

Nothing.

"Well," Harvey looks at Alfred while downing his 4th glass of whiskey. Jason had just BIT HIM after he tried petting Bruce's hair, " If I made YOU like me, this should be nothing, right?"

Alfred looks at him as if he's a particularly stupid puppy.

"...You like me, right, Alfie?"

" You're breathing, aren't you?"

[midnightsun-if]

How would ROs react to a Mc who is off in their own little world just playing with the ROs' hand before slotting both their hands together and holding it, just looking happy with themselves and not noticing the ROs watching them?

Koda: "I like this."

The soft statement, pulls you from your thoughts, causing you to meet gentle whiskey brown as Koda offers you a broad grin, his large hand encapsulating your own. You hadn't even noticed that he had turned to you and, from the looks of the darkened screen, had shut off his movie in order to give you his attention.

"Like what?" Your mind finally catches up on the sudden conversation, tightening your grip on his hand. "Me zoning out during one of your favorite movies?"

His grin widens further. "No," he replies, the rumbling sound of his laugh reminded you of the bear that lurked within him. "I like that you feel comfortable enough around me to do so. It makes me feel good knowing that I can bring you that much peace."

Surging forward, you press a gentle kiss to his cheek, enjoying the way he takes the opportunity to turn into a hug. "Even if I should be paying attention?" You lay your head against his broad shoulder. "Turn the move back on, Koda. I know how much you enjoy this movie and I promised I'd give it a chance."

"I'd rather watch you any day."

Scarlett: You're startled from your thoughts when a delicate kiss is pressed to the inside of your wrist, you hadn't realized that you had zoned out that much, wherein you hadn't even been able to notice that Scarlett had shifted closer. Though that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? Scarlett made you feel more serene than you had ever felt before, a steady rock in the whirling storm, welcoming arms after years at sea, the feeling of home all wrapped up in one person-- all of this ensured that you ended up drifting off to the whims of your mind, surrounded by the presence of the woman you love.

"Penny for your thoughts, my heart?"

The raspy chuckle intertwined with the question, coupled with the sparkling glint within viridescent eyes, causes your face to heat up in slight embarrassment. "Wasn't really thinking," you admit, rubbing the back of your neck ruefully. "Was just off in my own little world, I suppose." You angle your head to get a better look at her, well aware that she hadn't let go of your hand, choosing to rub her thumb across your knuckles soothingly instead, and it causes a warm feeling to settle within your chest. "What were you doing?"

"Staring at mine."

Cyrus/Cyra: It's not one singular thing that pulled you from your thoughts, nor was it anything super apparent, but something had been tugging at your mind in order to get you back into the present, to become aware of your surroundings once more. It's only when you turn your head and meet gentle golden eyes that the reason became apparent, the loving smile curling their lips filled you with warmth and a familiar tug of affection at your heartstrings.

"Were you just going to continue staring at me as I played with your fingers?" You ask, a teasing note in your tone. "Or would you have stopped me at some point?"

They tilt their head, pale blonde hair shimmering in the light. "Why would I do that, my flame? You're quite the bewitching sight to behold. I don't see why I would deprive myself from something so beautiful?"

You roll your eyes, fondness settling within your body like a soothing balm to your soul. "One of these days you're going to get bored of staring at me, Cy."

"I don't think that could ever happen; I was made to look at you like the Sun was meant to look upon the Moon."

Quinn: "Having fun there?"

You shouldn't be as startled as you were, if you're being honest, as Quinn's presence hadn't exactly slipped your mind, but your body still gave a light jolt regardless. Something that elicits a gentle chuckle from the wolf at your side, sapphire blue eyes watching you with utmost affection. It's only now, as their familiar warmth spreads up your arm, that you realize you had intertwined their hand with your own.

"Sorry," you apologize, angling your head to look at them better on the couch. "Didn't realize I zoned out that much."

"There's nothing to apologize for," Quinn soothes. "Do I look like someone that needs one? I'm quite content where I am."

"Are you sure?" It's something you can't help but ask, to make sure that Quinn didn't mind simply sitting back and relaxing on the couch -- not when you knew that they had planned to go for a hike through the forest. "I don't want to keep you from where you wish to be."

"The only way you'd be able to do that is if you left my side."

Caden: "I-I should p-put on some gloves."

It's a statement so out of left field that you're instantly aware of your surroundings, and the panicking phantom that was looking down at your intertwined hands with growing concern.

"W--" You clear your throat. "What? Why would you need to put on gloves?"

Pale silver eyes look almost doe-like in their worry. "I don't wish for you to get cold. I know it can't be the most comfortable thing to be touching me for this long." Caden dips their head, dark curls falling across their forehead haphazardly. "I should put on some gloves."

You flex your fingers around theirs, fully aware at the cool feeling against your own skin, but it wasn't overall unpleasant, especially not when you could feel Caden skin-to-skin. "I don't mind it, Caden," you soothe, a gentle smile on your lips. "But if you'd like to let me go then I won't hold it against you."

"That's the last thing I could ever want."

Sloane: Their hand tightens around your own, pulling you from your thoughts, as you suddenly find yourself tugged into their side, the smell of smoke and something inherently them surrounding you, as they settle back into their own spot; either completely oblivious, or ignoring, your confused stare. However, as you knew they would, Sloane soon broke as they had never enjoyed being stared at.

"Why are you starin' at me?" They huff, finally leveling you with a look. "Do I have something on my face?"

A smile upturns your lips. "No. I'm just curious why you decided to cuddle." You smooth a hand over their abdomen, crinkling the fabric of their old band-tee slightly, as their own arm tightens around your shoulders. "Since we're in the living room, out in the open, don't you have a rep to protect?"

It's an old joke, one borne from finally getting them to watch Grease 2 with you, but Sloane simply peers down at you with an undecipherable expression, before they lean forward to press a light kiss to the tip of your nose.

"The only thing that I have to protect is in my arms right now."

Blake: You almost jump out of your skin when Blake settles firmly into your side, their arm wrapped snugly around your waist, head firmly planted on your shoulder. "You're too cute, angel." They poke your cheek, violet eyes peering up at you through thick lashes. "Don't you know that I can't keep my hands off of you when you act like that?"

Having known Blake for as long as you have, although getting used to the romantic aspect of your relationship was still new, you were well versed in the confusion they could cause, but even this took that cake. Something that must have shown clearly on your face as Blake's smirk only broadens further.

"What are you on about, Herrera?" You shake your head, careful not to dislodge them all the same. "Act like what?"

"Like I'm someone worth holding onto."

Reginald/Regina: "Do you want to watch something else?"

A gentle tug to your hand brings you from your thoughts, the sounds of fighting becoming more apparent as the movie played on, but gentle blue-green eyes held you captive: the easy way they hadn't let go of your hand, simply interweaving your fingers together more firmly, or the depth of the affection within the turbulent waves of their gaze, causes your breath to catch.

"If this isn't your cup of tea, I'll be more than happy to watch something else." They incline their head towards the television, a wry smile on their lips. "Cause if you're not enjoying this movie, I don't think you'll enjoy it when we get to the prequels."

You shake your head. "No, I want to keep watching." Even if it was only to see the passionate gleam in your favorite pair of eyes as they watched the screen. "Just got caught up in my own head for a bit, but I'm good." Attempting to lighten the mood, you tease. "I'm surprised you were able to notice, I know how involved you get with these movies."

"Never to the point where I wouldn't notice you."

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎbilly rescues you from rivals but you were drugged౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x billy the kid

I couldn't resist going back for more I had another idea

On a cold, dreadfully rainy day when Billy was supposed to be enjoying a hard-earned whiskey after a long day of work, one of his gang informed him that you'd been kidnapped by a rival gang.

The news filled Billy's lungs with the smoke of anger. He'd fallen prey to this before, letting the adrenaline of his fury cancel out anything logical.

This was one of those times.

His men were put into action. They followed every trail, searched every nook of the county, preyed on every whisper they heard of you. They were familiar with this gang, their hideouts and haunts. But this was different. they'd obviously taken strategic measures to make sure you weren't found. Billy worked and worried in the meantime, hardly able to concentrate on any task he was given. His sweet girl wasn't safe in her bed, and that killed him.

But his men didn't disappoint. They never did.

They hadn't found you physically, but through word of mouth, they'd heard of an abandoned mining town in the mountains, and a group of rowdy men seen with a girl that matched your description. Since they weren't having any luck actually finding you, the lead was better than nothing.

Billy didn't waste any time riding with his men, tracking the whim of what a stranger had told them. When they reached the town, he felt in his gut that this was it.

The mine shaft was their first guess for a hiding spot, and they hit it right on the head. Men charged at them from every direction, but the Regulators were quick, the violence fleeting but the effects still the same. Blood and bodies littered the floor of the mine, the stench of death heavy in the air.

Immune to all this, Billy only had one goal. You. He spotted you quickly, slumped against the wall, your dress torn, looking like you'd seen hell.

He sheathed his gun, not wanting to frighten you. Then he knelt beside you, carefully taking your face in his hands and looking over you. "Baby...baby are ya hurt?"

Your eyes were glassy, and you looked up at him in a hazy way, tilting your head. "'M I dreaming?" you slurred.

Billy moved his hands to your shoulders to steady your slightly swaying body. "Dreamin' girl? Feels like a nightmare." He lifted your chin, peering into your eyes. "What'd they give ya? You got some poison in ya..."

You nearly toppled over. "Poysonn."

"Easy," Billy kept you sitting up, holding your shoulders again. "Here-" he took out his canteen, opening it and holding it out to you. They'd probably given you opium, based on your symptoms. "Drink this. You gotta stay awake for me."

You pushed it away. "They already gave me water."

"That was more poison than water sweetheart," his eyes narrowed. "A little water from me won't do ya any harm. Hell, it might even help." He lifted the canteen up again. "Drink."

Wrinkling your nose, you shook your head. "No."

Billy knew your drug-addled state would cause you to be distrusting, downright paranoid in some cases. But he knew drinking water would help you come down from whatever they'd given you. "You're a stubborn lil’ thing," he said, bringing the canteen up and taking a swig. His voice held a trace of amusement, but he still looked worried. "This is straight from the river, no funny business."

He held the canteen up to you lips, nodding encouragingly at you. "C'mon."

You hesitated, looking from him to the canteen. Then, slowly, you nodded.

Billy smiled, a little pride coming to his eyes. "That's a girl." He tipped the canteen up, water spilling into your mouth. You swallowed, and looked up at him, blinking sleepily.

He smiled, his hand coming back to your cheek and brushing his thumb over it. "There we go," Billy murmured. "How we doin'?"

You mumbled something incoherent, and he looked into your eyes, trying to understand. "Baby-?"

"What happened?" you slurred, trying to sit up a little.

"Shh, stay down," Billy said softly, his thumb roving down your cheek. "Rustlers took ya. Drugged you to keep ya quiet." He didn't expand on the details.

"Drugged?" you panicked, eyes widening.

"Easy, easy sweet girl," he soothed, his hand stroking your hair. "It's just gonna make ya sleepy, might make your mind a lil' hazy. You're fightin' it like hell though."

You breathed in and out, relaxing against him. "That's it?"

He hummed in affirmation. "That's it. You're gonna be okay, you're gonna-"

Billy was interrupted by a man stumbling through another door in the mineshaft. He stared at the sight before him: Billy and you on the ground, him cradling you to his chest.

The man's expression twisted, and without wasting a moment, he leaned in and wrenched you from Billy's arms, holding a gun to your head.

Billy's gun was drawn before the man could make another move. "If you know what's good for you you'll let her go," he growled.

The man ignored him, pulling a bottle out of his pocket and forcing the contents down your throat. You whimpered and struggled a bit, but quickly grew weaker, barely pawing at him.

More than livid now, Billy's heart pounded, his breath sharp. "You're a coward, hiding behind a woman. Drop her."

"You killed a great deal o' my men," the man shot back, gun pressed to your head. You were feebly stirring, the hazy look in your eyes back. However much he'd pulled you out of your drugged mindset, it was all back tenfold.

"You've signed your own death warrant," Billy spat. "You're gonna regret touchin' my girl."

"Take a step toward me and she dies," the man held you tight to him. Then, to Billy's horror, he smirked. His hand crept up toward your breasts.

Something snapped inside Billy. A tornado of fury raged with in him, his heart beating a wound into his chest. The protective streak was now a wall dripping with it. He acted before he could think about it, lunging at the man, shoving you to the ground.

His fists flew of their own accord. He hit him again and again, numb to the feeling in his knuckles as they pounded the man's face. Billy's blood was boiling, and he didn't stop even after the man was unconscious. His men had to step in, grabbing him by the elbows and hauling him off his unfortunate victim.

"Woah, Billy!" Charlie yelled, holding him back. "That's enough."

"He touched her, he touched her-!" Billy hollered, trying to get to the man again.

"You're scarin' your girl," Charlie hissed, nodding at you. That sentence finally made Billy stop. He looked over at you, a few feet away and tossed to the side. He'd been so preoccupied with avenging you that he hadn't even thought...about you.

Billy's muscles were tense from the fight. He looked back at the unconscious man, beat bloody, expecting to feel satisfied, but instead he felt disgusted with himself.

Looking back at you, still under the potent effects of the drug, he steadied himself, gearing up to help you. Stepping over the man's body, he knelt beside you, lifting you to sit up, cradling you against his chest, his heartbeat thumping its steady pattern. "Baby..."

"Who're you?" you murmured, head lolling to the side.

A fist clenched around his heart, and his brow knitted. "It's me, sweetheart. Your Billy."

"Billy," you smiled fondly, no recognition behind your eyes. But still, your body folded into him, instinctively knowing he was someone you trusted.

"That's right," he tucked your hair behind your ear. "I'm your Billy. And I'm gonna get you outta here, alright?"

He shifted you, preparing to lift you up into a bridal carry, but in doing so, you accidentally caught sight of the carnage behind him. The empty, shot bodies, blood stained across the scene, sprawled across the mine.

Your eyes widened, your chest heaving, the effects of the drug making things worse. Mouth open, ready to scream-

Billy reacted instantly, turning his body back to shield her from the gruesome sight, hands on the sides of your face. He nursed your little body, pressing his forehead to yours. "Hey now, heyy, it's okay. Don't look at 'em, they ain't worth a dime. Just look at me, keep those pretty eyes straight ahead f' me."

You still panicked, although doing as he asked.

"Breathe in and out, just like me," he whispered. "In and out."

Billy pulled your body against his chest so you could feel his breathing. The feeling helped you match it, and he nodded, keeping you steady. "You can do it, my girl. You're doin' it."

The coppery smell of blood wasn't helping matters. Even though you weren't hysterical anymore, your body was still tense and panicked. He needed to get you out of there, and fast.

Overwhelmed and exhausted, you started to cry, and his heart broke. His baby, his poor, sweet girl had been through so much. Billy held you tight to him, rocking you back and forth. "I know." You let out a sob. "Oh sweet girl I know. It's been a hell of a night. Just let it out, I've got ya."

He whispered soothing things to you, getting your breathing to a steady place before lifting you up. Billy made sure your face was pressed into his chest before he started walking,

Carrying you out of the mineshaft felt like carrying an angel. He carefully set you against a tree, kneeling in front of you. The sun was setting, painting the sky a blurry orange.

"Hey sweetheart," he cooed, keeping himself close. "How you doin'?"

"'M good," you slurred, smiling lazily. "How're you?"

Your sweet response brought a little smile to his face. Even drugged up you were still his sweetheart, that inherent kindness your natural state. "Don't worry ‘bout me baby. Let's focus on you waitin' out this drug."

He needed you to stay awake as long as you could, so he sat next to you, an arm around your shoulders. "Alright sweet girl, we're gonna play a game."

"A game?" you smiled, the drug's effects rendering your mind more innocent than usual.

"You're gonna tell me three things you can see right now," he nodded, his voice filled with warmth. "Go on, tell me one you you can see."

"Umm," you frowned, thinking. Then, your eyes lit up, and you moved your hand to the ground, letting a ladybug crawl onto your hand. You held it up to show him.

A smile curved his lips, his heart softening. "Look at that. You got a little ladybug. Ain't she pretty?"

You nodded, studying the bug and turning your hand over as it crawled. He admired your delight in something so little, something he'd always admired about you, but seemed to be enhanced now.

"What else do you see, sweetheart?" he prompted, his voice gentle.

You frowned in thought like you'd done before. Then your eyes caught on the ladybug on your hand again, and you held it up to show him...again.

Billy couldn't help his chuckle, but he kept it light, not wanting it to seem like he was making fun. "That's the same ladybug darlin'. Can you tell me something else you see?"

You held up your hand to show him the ladybug again.

His heart squeezed tight at the gesture, and he stifled a laugh. Your innocent gestures were more endearing than you knew. "That's right sweetheart. Ya found the same ladybug again. You think you can find somethin' we haven't seen before?”

As you looked around, he discreetly covered the hand holding the ladybug with his own, so you wouldn't show him again. He was careful not to harm it between your palms. You found a daisy nearby, picking it and giving it to him.

"For me?" he smiled, twisting the flower between his fingers. "Nice of ya, sweetheart."

You rested your head against his shoulder, moving his hand so you could watch the ladybug again. He found your fixation with it adorable, your drugged mind finding solace in its simplicity. "You like that ladybug, huh?"

Nodding, you let the ladybug crawl onto his hand. "They're good luck. Make a wish."

Your request made him smile. There was such a sweet pureness to your world right now, the very bones of what made you you. He closed his eyes, humoring you. I wish I could keep you safe forever.

He opened his eyes just in time to see the ladybug fly away. Billy couldn't remember the last time he'd made a wish, but the fact that it was because of you made the moment all the more sweet.

You picked another flower, pressing it into his hand with the other one. Billy looked down at his two flowers, a fond expression taking over his face. "You're givin' me all your flowers, huh?"

"You need 'em more than I do," you murmured, closing your eyes and resting your head against his shoulder.

He rubbed your shoulder. "Gotta stay awake baby. Look up."

You opened your eyes, looking up at the stars. Billy squeezed your shoulder. "How d'ya reckon they all got up there?"

"My mama always told me that each one's a person," you mumbled. "When people die, God puts 'em up there so they can shine forever."

The story was sweet, and Billy pressed a kiss to your temple. "Your mama knew what she was talkin' about."

"I hope so," you said, looking up at him. Looking into your eyes in that moment, he knew you knew who he was, knew you were safe with him. Your mind was coming back, and he could breathe easy now.

"We gonna go home?" Your little words tugged at his heartstrings.

Billy looked down at you and kissed your forehead.

"'F course baby. We're gonna go home now."

come talk about billy here!

[cheralith]

and when you catch me ; kaeya alberich

content tags/warnings ; roommate!kaeya x reader, gn!reader, no pronouns used, fluff, slight angst if you squint, modern au, slight fanon characterization of kaeya sry lolol

word count ; 2.4k

now playing ; plot twist - niki

Before you came, Kaeya used to spend his mornings in complete silence. It’d only be broken by the occasional slurps of coffee and the creak of the hardwood floors when he’d saunter across what used to be a lone apartment. 

Before you came, Kaeya used to spend his Fridays and weekends going to bars and flirting with anyone his sparkling eye catches on. He’d have an expensive whiskey in hand, seductively drinking from it with a smirk as he’d never break eye contact with the person he was conversing with, their flusteredness going very much noticed. 

Before you came, Kaeya used to order takeout to suffice for dinner, spending more money on a single meal than proper groceries. He’d pile up the single-use plastic containers and cutlery in the garbage, going faster than them than a box of cigarettes. 

Before you came, Kaeya used to go out on the balcony and fill the night air with the smell of tobacco pushing out through his nose and lips. He’d feel the sting of the nicotine in his lungs, lavishing in its pain masochistically at the stroke of midnight when sleepless nights took over.

Kaeya’s heart was free and unbound. He was an eligible bachelor with no intention of caging himself in a relationship despite the many sweethearts that desired to capture his heart for themselves. He loved the freedom given to him by being single and loose, with no one to boss him around or tell him the correct direction of life. There was no one to take away his third glass of wine for the night, no one to cook him homemade meals, no one to tell him off for smoking nearly a pack of Marlboro in a single sitting. There was no one to sit down with him on a Friday night to watch a 1990’s romcom with cheap popcorn, there was no one to quietly sing out classic jazz in the morning dawn, there was no one.

Until you came. 

When you came into Kaeya’s life, you came into it by accident. He was working with you in a group project and he found you both cooperative to work with and easy to talk to and throughout the period, he was able to genuinely call you a friend. You would’ve been a perfect target to seduce if it weren't for the fact that he would routinely see you for the next month or so until the project was finished, meaning an awkwardness that was waiting to blossom would have to come sooner or later if he did take initiative. You began ending up sharing Kaeya’s simple two-bedroom-one-bathroom apartment when you accidentally slipped out one day whilst working with him that your landlord was going to raise your rent by a hefty amount through a soft laugh. 

Kaeya had looked at you almost amazingly—almost surprised at how you were so calm. He remembers that you went straight back to your laptop after mentioning the feat before he had broken the silence with the simple phrase he didn’t know would change everything.

“Do you want to move in with me, instead?”

Honestly, he should’ve known better. Who asks a person he had known for only three and a half weeks to move in with them? But you were out on a whim, and though you would’ve never admitted it, you needed the help. As if a broke grad student like you could afford a shoebox apartment whose rent was twice the amount of Kaeya’s.

It had taken him a good hour of convincing you to move in with him, telling you that his apartment was larger than life and most certainly needed more people to fill up the void. You were only half-convinced afterwards, but he supposes the glimmer in your eye when you spotted the untouched reading nook with a gaping window sill staring out of the city was the kicker for you to move in. 

It was a quick move—your apartment was so small you were able to move everything you owned into only one trip. Kaeya had purchased most things like cups or bowls in doubles or even triples, so there wasn’t even a need to get more cutlery or furniture. He had always felt like his apartment was meant to be shared considering the large amount of empty space he’d often wander around or how much he’d contemplated actually needing six bowls in the cabinet. 

He wasn’t accustomed to having to do more batches of laundry on the weekends at first—nor was he accustomed to coming home with the TV on, having the kitchen smell faintly of basil, marinara sauce, and meatballs. The evidence that someone else was home besides him didn’t grow on him so quickly. It made him uncomfortable for a bit, even, knowing his personal space was now overlapping with another’s.

But as the weeks went on, as the months went on, he began to grow used to the piling dishes in the sink from the night before. He began being used to the hamper being half full with the week only being a third done. He began to smell the aroma in the air in the evening, trying to guess what you had cooked prior and searching if you saved him some. 

And those silly little habits became routine as you slowly attached yourself to his life without either of you realizing it. 

Kaeya supposes that those little things that you did were the very things that made him lose himself in the one thing he thought he would never get tangled in. 

And damn, did he despise it.

To have someone pay this much attention to him without the feeling of desire and lust is something all too foreign to the libertine. The way you noticed his little things made his heart sting. You had memorized his coffee routine after the first week and never went a day without it having been prepared and ready for him in the mornings. You noticed how he always sets the TV volume at either an even number or at a multiple of five and never changed it to anything else. You noticed how he’d fidget in a sort of nervousness—whether that be picking at his fingernails or toying with the cuff of his sleeves—when he would ask you if you made him something alongside your dinner. And the answer was always. 

Kaeya had eaten alone by himself ever since he blossomed into his teenage years. Adelinde, in the old family mansion he used to live in, was his only company, but even so, she would merely stand idly a few feet away from him as she waited for him to finish his supper only to clean up after him. The conversations rarely lasted a minute between the two anyway.

It traveled to adulthood, eating alone. The company that tagged along with him whenever he’d eat out with friends made him uneasy—talking while eating made him hasty. So Kaeya ended up just skipping friend dinners altogether and would catch up for drinks at a later time. 

But when you had patted the chair next to you on the kitchen island the evening you moved in, that uncomfortability he held so strongly had chipped away ever so slowly with every dinner you had with him. 

Kaeya would find it strange, at first. How do people talk whilst eating without being gross and spitting out food? How do people manage to hold conversations when one should merely focus on finishing their meal? He didn’t understand how you had so much to talk about in a single slice of time with him and still manage to enjoy the meal you ate. That sort of multitasking didn’t exist within him. 

But he slowly realized that it wasn’t the food that connected people as they ate together. 

It was the time spent with each other. Food just happened to always be in the foreground. 

He didn’t even realize he began looking forward to those dinners with you until he had complained you ate dinner without him at that singular time when you nonchalantly mentioned the food was in the fridge before he forced you to eat a second dinner with him or else he wouldn’t let you go to bed. 

“Kae, I’m full—”

“Don’t care,” he huffed, pushing your stiff form from the living room to the kitchen, “We’ve always eaten together and that’s how it’ll always be.”

“Just get the food from the fridge and eat it in the living room!” you exasperated.

“No, it doesn’t feel right,” he insisted and plopped your pouting form into your usual seat near the island. “We’re eating together and that’s final.”

But it wasn’t when you made that little comment that one moonlit evening that you had pulled him into a whirlpool of strange feelings without being conscious of it. 

There was a time that Kaeya didn’t have work while you did, and he ended up sparing some of that time attempting to learn a recipe as a thank you for cooking him lovely homemade meals (it didn’t even turn out half bad despite being a menace in the kitchen when he attempted to help you!). Being the extra person he was, he had covered the island with a satin tablecloth and had picked up a neat flower arrangement from the florist down the street to plop into the vase gifted to him by the elderly landlady that claimed he should one day be her son-in-law. 

The candelabra that held up three candlesticks was perhaps a little too much, he had thought seconds before you had walked through the door. By then, it was too late to remove or add any little details since upon entering your shared home, you had commented on the sweet aroma that wafted the air from the oven, not knowing that it had just finished up baking a simple lava cake. 

It was only after you had finished the three-course meal that he prepared that Kaeya realized what he had prepared for you unintentionally. 

“It’s almost like we’re on a date!” you had laughed lightly.

Kaeya paused as your giggles died down, staring at you almost incredulously, trying to take in what you just said without thought. “H-huh?”

“I mean,” you cleared your throat with the prepared wine and gestured to the preparations. “Look at this. The flowers, the candles, the moonlight. You can’t tell me this doesn’t give ‘ dinner date’ vibes.” 

He could only stare at your blurring figure for a second or so before muttering, “Yeah… I guess it is like a date…”

That pivoting point was what made Kaeya start noticing the little details adorning your being. How you always reached for a specific cup for tea, what you liked to wear according to your wardrobe, those sort of little petals of yourself that slowly fell into his palms began to decor him in your little habits. 

And it was sort of comforting. 

He’d never admit to falling in love. Oh, no, that wasn’t the case at all with him. His little gifts to you and acts of servitude and occasional warm touches to you were not droplets of love… they were mere… favorited affection… as Kaeya would nickname it. 

But love? 

Absolutely not. That’s too much of a title.

Him noting to get you that ivory ivy-patterned dress once his pay cheque came while you both window-shopped in autumn was not love. Nor was idly wrapping himself around you and resting his chin on your forehead as you cooked, breathing in your scent and feeling the softness of your skin. Neither was carrying you to bed after falling asleep mid-movie and tucking you in before counting your breaths as he laid his head next to yours. And don’t get started on how he would get too worried if you still weren’t through the door at the designated time you said you’d be home by to the point where he considered calling the authorities (only for you to graze in three minutes later), because that was just him worrying about your safety like any other ordinary roommate. Love was not embracing himself in your warmth during the coldest of nights in your room, under your comforter. It wasn’t listening and singing to the songs you liked, and it most certainly was not making sure you both had time for an “outing” with each other every Saturday of each week.

Love isn’t wrapping you up in his scarf immediately when you give the smallest sneeze as a chill passes by. Love isn’t excusing himself early with an outing with friends when you text him if you want to catch up on the show you were watching together. Love isn’t contemplating whether the title of calling you his “lover” would suit you, nor were the imaginations of holding your face in his hands with his lips tenderly kissing yours as the flurrying feeling inside him melds together into a pool of amorous yearning for you and you only. 

Love doesn’t keep up late at night a room away from you, wondering if you thought of him as much as he thought of you that day. Love doesn’t make him weak in the knees when you gleam a glorious smile at him at peak happiness—the type of smile where your cheeks hurt a little bit and your eyes crinkle so much, the whites aren’t visible anymore. Love doesn’t make him stare at your ring finger, wondering what size it is and how a jeweled band would look around it.

Love doesn’t make him do any of those things. 

Kaeya Alberich does not love you in that sense.

He is one hundred percent sure of that. 

…

“Kaeya!” you call from the front door, poking your head in with a concerned look on your face. “You said you were ready? Our brunch reservation isn’t gonna eat itself—you know how busy it gets on Saturdays.” 

Swallowing thickly, Kaeya shoves his hand inside his coat pocket smoothly. “I’m coming, I just need to find my wallet,” he lies nonchalantly, “Start the car, I’ll be down in a few.” 

You eye his right hand suspiciously for a moment. “Alright…” you murmur with a raised brow. “Don’t take too long though, I’m getting hungry!” 

With a quick creak of the door and the snapping of a lock, Kaeya lets out a tense breath before pulling his hand out. Opening the modest white velvet box, he glides his thumb on the delicate sapphire promise ring, making sure it’s free of any marks and spare dust before closing the box and tucking it safely into his pocket again. 

With another sharp breath and a quick fix of his hair, he whisks himself out to face what could be the most important day of his life. 

… or maybe he’s ninety-nine percent sure. 

a/n ; this was an old work i had totally forgotten about until i was cleaning up my drive and decided to post merely because i thought there were some tidbits that deserved their spotlight. the original title was actually "and when i catch you", but since it centers kaeya's perspective, i tweaked it a little bit to make it more fitting :>

anyways, thanks for reading as always!! your time, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated and never unnoticed <3